#i got myself a detangling spray the other day and that made it a little better but it's still a pain

[megah3rz]

doesn't somebody want to brush my hair for me. this could be us

#seele.txt #my hair isn't even long rn i just hate combing it #it's such a pain #i got myself a detangling spray the other day and that made it a little better but it's still a pain

[burnsopale]

So back in August I ensconced myself in a cabin on a mountain to do some writing, and I decided to do a take on the classic “Volkov returns from prison”-scenario.

I got five chapters and 35 000 words in and I will never ever finish it because I have no dicipline. So I figured I could at least share some of the readable bits with you.

Working title: Ashen Characters in this clip: BBA, Russian boys, PPB, mention of the Euro-team Setting: 7 years after season one, Russia, a beyblade park in the evening Summary: Volkov has escaped from prison, attacked PPB headquarters and taken back Black Dranzer. The Russian boys have been living with the PPB, and were used and hurt in the attack. Yuriy left with Volkov for unknown reasons. Daitenji Kogoro has gathered the troops and sent them to Russia to find out what Volkov is up to. Meanwhile, Kai’s grandfather is on his deathbed, and Kai is struggling to deal with it.

The crowd swelled, until there was no way that Takao was going to get any kind of private conversation with his friends. He gave up on the notion for the present, and threw himself into matches. He played the kids who wanted to, holding back as much as he could and leaving Seiryuu simmering in the blade, but eventually they called for a match between Takao and Kai.

Takao loved blading against Kai; somehow, he could never do less than his best against Dranzer, but when Kai now took his place on the other side of the small, grounded dish, something felt off to Takao. Kai looked dull, like he was going to the dentist and just had to get it over with. He fitted Dranzer into the shooter with a look like he was miles away.

“Hey,” Takao said, having to raise his voice a little to get past the crowd. “Are you there?”

 Kai looked up, a little surprised. “What sort of trash talk is that? Are you there?”

 “Just checking. I’ll be in your care.”

 “You’ll be under my heel,” Kai said darkly, and now Takao knew something was wrong, but a beybattle had always been Takao’s way to get through to people, so he just bent his knees and raised Dragoon in front of him.

 “Tri, dva, odin! Idi strelyay!”

 Out of the corner of his eye, Takao saw Emily startle, but he’d have to wonder about that some other time because Seiryuu would not be contained any longer and came out roaring.

Dranzer took Dragoon’s attack head on. Seiryuu bent over it like he was confused as to why Suzaku wasn’t joining him. For the longest moment, Kai just stood there, while Takao watched in disbelief.

 Then, as if he was lifting a great weight, Kai breathed in and cried, “Suzaku!”

 Even the vermillion bird herself didn’t so much soar out of the bit chip as climb laboriously out. Seiryuu hissed, offended by this poor showing, and the battle was over in less than a minute.

 Kai picked up Dranzer and went to stand next to Boris and Kyouju without even commenting on the results. The audience was, thankfully, satisfied, but Takao was not.

 He played Eddie and got a much better match out of him; Trypio was one of those tricky blades that you needed strategy and forward thinking to beat.

 Afterwards he got a chance to say two words to Emily about Kai.

 “He is going through a tough time,” she said.

 “Yeah, but he doesn’t usually let it hurt his blading.”

 “He can’t still be grumpy about the finals?” she wondered.

 Takao shook his head. “Nah, he agreed Ralf deserved that one.”

 Emily nodded, biting her lip in pleasure as she thought back. “Ralf was incredible. It was a team win, but he had the best individual result. The data output was like a laden buffet table.”

 “Ooh, buffet! ... Did he lose at all?” Takao didn’t think he had, but he hadn’t been able to catch every battle.

 “Hmm. Rai came close; lightning is good against such massive holy beasts, and it was close for Kai too of course, but no one can quite top the sheer mastery Ralf has over Griffolyon.”

 “It’s not mastery; it’s teamwork,” Takao insisted, frowning.

 “Call it synergy, then,” she said, shrugging. “Ralf knows his business, that’s all I’m saying. They all do, those European bladers.” She chuckled. “You know, Ivan calls them Earthquaker, Wingshaker and Heartbreaker, from back before he learned their names.”

 Takao matched the nicknames to their right bladers in his head. “... What does he call Johnny?”

 “The hedgehog.”

 “What about you?” he asked, nodding to the dish where Max was getting ready to battle Steve. “Are you going to play?”

 She shook her head, a look of pain crossing her sharp features. “Trygator is ... missing. He was taken in the attack. Volkov has it.”

 For a moment, Takao found nothing to say. Inside he was boiling. “We’ll get him back, Emily,” he vowed, clenching his fist. “I swear it.”

 She smiled a dangerous smile, not unlike a crocodile’s. “Yes, we will.”

 Eventually the group detangled themselves from the crowd and began to journey home. The world was growing dark, but the sky was still pale above. Long stretched of road lay without light, which came in handy when they had to escape from a few fans who apparently wanted to know where they were staying.

 They stopped on the lawn outside the hotel where Emily and company were staying, and Takao finally got to ask his question.

 “What happened?”

 The others looked at each other, except Boris who looked down, and Kai, who now said a brief goodnight, reminded them where to meet in the morning, and walked away. Max made a soft sound, but didn’t try to stop him. Kyouju seemed torn between not wanting to pry and dying to know.

 Emily made it easier by briefly telling them of her encounter with Peter Trotty. “Turns out his real name is Trotsky. He’s one of three Borg spies that have been undercover in the PPB for years. Or rather, one of the three we’ve found so far.”

 “What did he mean by that thing he said? Baba who?”

 The Russian boys shifted their feet. Sergei’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

 Kyouju could, as usual, not help doing a bit of teaching. “Baba Yaga is the name of a witch in Russian fairy tales. She is an old woman who rides through the woods on a mortar, and lives in a house that stands on four chicken legs.”

 “Chicken legs?” Max echoed doubtfully.

 “She is sometimes an enemy, but can also help the hero or heroine, if they do the tasks she sets them.”

 “In this case,” Sergei said, “she is a real woman. She was in the abbey. She trained us, Ivan and me, and sometimes Yuriy.”

 “Don’t ask about her,” Ivan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I hear the creaking in my head all the time. I thought I was rid of it. I thought it was over!”

 “She is dead,” Sergei said with conviction. It sounded like something he needed to believe. “She was old when I came to the abbey; she must be dead. But they had her voice on a tape recorder and ... it’s hard to disobey.”

 “Fuck her!” Ivan exclaimed, and then grew suddenly pale as if he had said something dangerous. “No more,” he said, more lowly. “She’s a fairy tale now. Only fit for scaring children.”

 For a while they stood in silence, and then Kyouju asked the other question, the one that had been hanging over them all day. “Why did Yuriy go?”

 “Because he’s an idiot!” Boris said, holding up clawed hands like he would like to wrap them around Yuriy’s throat. He turned away and roared behind his teeth up at the darkening sky. “He’s a stupid mudak! Fuck!” He kicked a turf of grass so dirt sprayed up. “Fuck, fuck fuck!”

 They watched him stomp repeatedly on the uprooted bit of turf, and then move on to a flower that was unlucky enough to stand nearby.

 “What Borya said,” Sergei agreed.

 “But we’re to blame too,” Eddie added, pulling his jeans jacket around himself like he was cold. “We thought we were doing a good job making them feel at home.”

 “We thought Michael was taking care of Yuriy,” Steve said, stern with himself. “But Michael and Yuriy are nothing alike. It didn’t work out.”

 “And we didn’t notice,” Eddie finished.

 “Don’t talk like that,” Ivan hissed. “Like we were your homework!”

 “But you were,” Emily said in her factual, merciless way. “At first. Then you became our friends. Now you are ours, whether you like it or not. You won’t rest until Yuriy is liberated, but neither will we. He’s coming back home with us.”

 “We’re with you too,” Max said quickly.

 Takao and Kyouju nodded determinedly.

 “The first step is to figure out where Volkov is and what he is planning,” Kyouju said.

 “And that means getting to bed, so we are ready for tomorrow,” Emily added. “Come on, boys. I promised Judy I’d tuck you all in by ... well not this hour, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

 Takao, Max and Kyouju watched them go, Sergei grabbing Boris by the lapel and pulling him away from the flowers he was chewing up. Then they turned and headed for their own hotel and their beds.

 “What do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” Max wondered.

 “We’re going back to the abbey,” Takao answered. “We could find anything.” A feeling of foreboding was growing in his stomach.

 Takao surprised everyone by being the first to get up that morning. He was too keyed up to sleep any longer. He was digging into his second round of breakfast when the others arrived, but politely stuck around to keep them company until they too were finished. It gave him time for round three anyway.

 “You’d think I don’t feed you,” Dad said as he brought his plate to the table.

 “You’d think Grandpa doesn’t feed you,” Takao retorted, looking at the mountain of food on his dad’s plate.

 Kyouju sipped his tea, two slices of toast with honey lying neatly on a plate in front of him. “Like father like son, I suppose.”

 “They snore like father and son too,” Max said, yawning as he took a seat between Kyouju and Kai.

 Kai smiled. He had his own room.

 Their friends arrived from the other hotel a little before ten o’clock, and at ten precisely, two large black cars came to a halt in front of the hotel doors. A huge man stepped out of the first car. He had bushy moustaches and bushy eyebrows, and a great big belly, and he wore shorts, sneakers and a yellow Hawaii shirt that looked deeply out of place in the middle of the city. He shook hands with Takao’s dad, and with Kai and Emily.

 “Hello hello, everywan,” he said, sounding exactly as jolly as you’d expect, like a big Russian santa. “My name is Gregor Gregorovitsj. You can call me Gregor. I will be your guide today. I understand that some of you will be coming with me to look at the papers and other inventory that we cleared out of the abbey, while some others of you,” He looked to Takao’s dad. “Want to go see the abbey for yourself.”

 He looked at them expectantly. Then his eyes alighted on Sergei, and travelled to Boris, and down to Ivan.

 “Oh.” He said. He scratched his head. “... They didn’t tell me why you wanted to go there. Why would you want to?”

 “You haven’t heard about Vladimir Volkov escaping from prison?” Emily asked.

 Gregor looked surprised, and then a little embarrassed. “To be honest, nobody tells me anything. I am only archivist, but I speak English, so they sent me. I have never been guide before.” He frowned. “But if that man has escaped ... hmm ... that explains some things. I may not be told anything, but I do hear things.” He frowned a little more. Kai cleared his throat, startling him out of his thoughts. “But we should get going! Okay, those who want to go to abbey go in the first car; the driver knows way, and someone will meet you there to show you around. Everyone else, in second car with me.”

 “Who is going where?” Takao wondered. “I’m coming with you, Dad.”

 “As am I,” Kai said.

 “And me.” Boris took a step away from his own group towards theirs. “You won’t find anything without one of us going with you.”

 Kai turned to him. “Then it should be Ivan or Sergei.”

 “No,” Boris said simply. “It will be me.”

 Emily pushed her glasses up and surveyed her troops. “Sergei is taking point on the textual evidence, and Steve and I read enough Russian to aid him. Daitenji Kogoro mentioned a warehouse with inventory, so Eddie and Ivan are going there.”

 Kai rolled his eyes in disgust. “And how do we know you won’t have another episode?” he asked Boris bluntly. “You think going back to that place won’t trigger any memories?”

 Boris lifted his head stubbornly. “There will not be an episode. I am going.”

 “You are not safe,” Kai growled.

 “Stop it!” Takao placed himself between them, facing Kai. “If Boris says he will be fine, then he will be.”

 “Why?” Kai sneered. “Because you believe in him?”

 “Because I trust him,” Takao answered.

 Dad put a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kai; we’ll be together the whole time. If anything should happen, we can handle it, but I think Boris knows best if he will be alright or not.”

 Kai shrugged off the hand. “I agree,” he spat. “I just also think he would lie about it.”

 Emily, Eddie and Steve were looking on in confusion and shock, while Ivan and Sergei’s faces were growing dark.

 Boris said something in Russian that was clearly an offer to throw hands, and Kai turned back to him like he absolutely meant to take that offer and go through Takao if he had to, until Max suddenly stepped in front of Kai and drove him backwards.

 “That’s enough, Kai!”

 Takao exhaled in relief as he saw Kai’s attention snap to Max with the irresistible awareness that Max always commanded of him.

 “This isn’t about Boris,” Max said, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward like he was at work and lecturing one of his kindergardeners. “It’s about you. If you don’t want to go to the abbey, then you don’t have to! But don’t take it out on Boris!”

 Kai’s face got all red and pinched.

 Max straightened up and exhaled. “Kai.” He shook his head. “I’ll come too, and like Kinomiya-san says, we’ll go together, and if you’re scared I can hold your hand and then it will be fine-”

 “Just get in the car,” Kai said in a strangled voice and immediately followed his own advice.

 “Guess I’m coming with you,” Max said, nodding to himself like he thought he had done a good job, and Takao thought so too.

 Max had a way of diffusing – or confusing – Kai that sometimes came in handy.

 Takao just wished they could get to the heart of the problem. This was not about the abbey, he didn’t think so, though it was about going together, and about being lonely even when you were surrounded by friends.

 “Well,” Gregor said, swinging his hands back and forth by his sides. “That was awkward. Would you like to go now?”

 Kyouju decided to go with Ivan and Eddie to the warehouse, and so the teams were agreed upon.

 Takao didn’t know what Daitenji-san wanted them to find in that black stone labyrinth, but as they left the city centre and began to near the desolate edges where Volkov had picked up so many of Moscow’s orphaned and abandoned boys, his feeling of foreboding grew stronger. Something was waiting for them. Something they were not prepared for.

#Beyblade #Judin writes #Ashen #I wish I had dicipline #Anyway enjoy #KaiTakao #just a little bit

[need-a-fugue]

Why Not? - Chapter Six

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​ for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done! 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Bit of angst, mostly fluff. 

Chapter Six

The next morning passes in an odd – and oddly wonderful – whirlwind. 

Annie wakes with a jolt, landing face first on a foreign floor, some sort of Lego action figure stabbing into her palm when she tries to right herself. “Oooow,” she moans, languidly shoving away the offending toy and rolling over onto her back. She cracks a single eye open, squinting to see the edge of the overstuffed couch she only vaguely remembers snuggling back into after dinner – and several beers – the night before. Another small moan escapes her as she drops her forearm across her eyes to block out the early morning sun beaming in through the wide-open curtains across the room.

Light, plodding footsteps sound in her periphery, a rather amused, “Hey, doll,” rumbling through the still air of the room.

Her arm shifts and again she cracks open just one eye, sneering as the sun works to blind her. She cocks her head to the side and blinks repeatedly, anxious to solidify his bleary form, to confirm that the smug-as-hell smile she hears in his voice is in fact perched across Bucky’s lips as he looms at the end of the sofa.

“I though you said the couch was good,” he teases brightly, his tone far too cheery for so early in the morning. “Not sure why you chose the floor.”

She shifts and rolls, slowly – very slowly – pulling herself upright and leaning back against the couch. “I fell,” she mutters, rubbing her fists into her painfully dry eyes. She peels them away with a grimace, stares down at her hands with suspicion, as though they had somehow caused her the discomfort. “And I slept with my contacts in.”

His voice is a bit more distant, emanating from the other room perhaps – she honestly still can’t quite see – when he asks, “You wear contacts?”

“Yeah,” she sighs out, pulling herself up onto the cushions and gathering the blanket that he had handed her the night before, his hesitant offer replaying in soft echoes – You sure you don’t want to crash in my bed? I mean… and I’ll stay out here? Or you can take Lana’s… she’s got an army of stuffed animals to guard you all night… keep you safe – as she lazily crumples the cover and positions it beneath her cheek. Her face twists, brows knitting tightly together as she blinks heavily a few more times, trying to seat the contacts in place, hoping the burning will stop. “Is that a turn off for you?”

By the time she opens her now red and watery eyes, he’s magically by her side, two mugs of coffee in hand. She sits upright and he offers her one, a wicked little grin just barely hiding behind the lip of his own mug as he takes a single, steamy sip. “Contacts? No.” He shrugs. “That hair though? Well, if that doesn’t turn a guy off, nothing will.”

She pulls in a sharp breath, almost a squeak, and reaches up to feel the wildly tousled rat’s nest piled on the top of her head. “Shit,” drawls out of her, a long, regretful moan. She hands him back the mug of coffee and bolts up, making a beeline for the bathroom, harshly tugging at the deeply embedded ponytail holder as she goes.

“I’m only kidding, doll,” he calls after her, doing little to hide the gentle chuckles pulling from his chest. He follows her down the hall, leans lazily back against the wall – double fisting their coffees – and watches her through the open bathroom door as she studies herself in the mirror. Red eyes narrowed and rapidly blinking, she finally manages to pull out the rubber band and begin picking at one of the more gnarly knots left in its wake. “Can you even see what you’re doing?” he asks, cocking his head and watching with a mirth-filled gaze as she inclines closer to the mirror.

“No,” she despairs finally, dropping her hands and frowning at the blurry mess of a reflection.

Bucky lets out another little laugh and scoots into the small room behind her, delicately stepping over a felled towel. He sets down the mugs on the cluttered countertop and ticks his chin towards them. “I didn’t know how you like it,” he says, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of detangler from off the side of the tub. “But there’s milk and sugar, if you want.”

“Black’s fine,” she breathes out, reaching for one of the mugs. “Like my soul.”

“Sure,” he smirks, an utterly disbelieving expression showing in the mirror as he steps back behind her and begins to spray down her hair.

A single, luscious sip of the thick, dark liquid is all it takes for Annie’s senses to begin to waken, to register the heat permeating off the body at her back and the heavenly smell of the coffee in her hand, the delicate scent of the detangler spurting out behind her curling round it. Her red-rimmed eyes remain trained on the man in the mirror as he thoroughly wets down her wild locks in Johnson & Johnson spray. “You gonna comb it out for me too?” she asks, cocking a teasing eyebrow high.

He glances up at her in the mirror, wiggling his own brows in response as he holds up a bright pink brush, pressed-on Disney princess stickers peeling from its back. “I’ll have you know, I’m an expert at this. You’re damn lucky I’m here.”

She stifles a laugh – can’t quite hide the beaming smile, though – and takes another sip of her coffee before leaning back her head and letting him brush through her hair. “Just full of surprises,” she quips lightly as he makes quick work of the thick tangles.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he mutters behind her, his face set and stern as he focuses on the task at hand.

He’s not lying when he says he’s an expert at detangling. She barely feels a thing as he brushes through, firmly laying an open palm at the back of her skull as he runs down the length of her tresses. She finds herself wondering how bad Lana’s thick, curly hair must get that he’s managed to gain enough practice to perfect these moves. It’s sweet, she thinks to herself, her gently waking mind beginning to wander.

She hadn’t known that he was a father when her crush on Bucky first sprang to life a handful of months ago, didn’t realize that there was a little girl who sat at the very center of his world. But meeting Lana that day at the garage – and seeing the two of them together – very quickly made her realize that there was no him without her.

And she liked that.

Annie had never dated a single dad before, never sought one out… nor avoided them like the plague, unlike so many of her friends. Aside from the handful of failed attempts her father made at getting back into the scene, the only real experience she’d ever had with dating dads was when her college roommate found out that her boyfriend had a kid he’d never told her about. She’ll never forget sitting on the dingy dormitory floor with her, lamenting in tandem how awful it was that this man had effectively hidden the fact that he had a young son from her for months. It wasn’t even the lying and secrecy that troubled Annie so much – though her friend was pretty damn upset about that part. It was the fact that anyone could compartmentalize a child. The fact that he could so easily separate the two sides of himself – the father and the boyfriend, the caregiver and the lover – made her question his overall integrity… and his virtue as a human being.

The truth is, any man who’s able to so easily disentangle himself from his own kid – to swiftly abandon such responsibility and love – isn’t a man she’d care to get to know further. But Bucky? He’s been nothing but utterly transparent – not only about just having a daughter, but about the role she plays in his life… in who he is. And damn if that doesn’t set off a budding excitement deep down inside that makes her desperate to know more.

She glances back at his reflection in the mirror, sees his eyes narrowing in deep concentration as he works his way through the final, most unruly knot of all. Her still bleary eyes take in the thick wave to his own hair. And she bites down on her bottom lip to suppress the urge to reach back and run her hands through it.

It’s no more than a few minutes before he frees her, setting down the big, pink brush and offering an accomplished nod before picking his coffee back up and sidestepping out the door. “Better take out those contacts,” he tosses over his shoulder, never catching – thankfully – the hooded desire clouding her gaze.

She frowns suddenly, blinking around the fire in her eyes. “I don’t have another pair,” she mumbles blankly. “Or my glasses.”

He pops his head back into the bathroom, wide grin on his face as he says slyly, “Guess I’ll just have to drive you home in the Cobra myself, then. Wouldn’t want you wrecking such a beauty.”

000

He does drive the Cobra, in fact. Though not back to her place. By the time they’re ready to go – sugary cereal and another cup of coffee filling them both up – it’s late enough that she begs him to just take her straight into work.

He shakes his head in a sort of disappointed chide, no doubt wanting to reprimand her for spending too much time at work – at least, she assumes that’s the case, because his expression mirrors her sister’s perfectly when she confronts her over that heavily debated issue. But he agrees nonetheless, wide grin never leaving his face as he drives the perfect convertible deep into Manhattan, down to the Stark Industries tower at its heart.

Annie rushes off to her office to change – pulling her glasses from her desk too so she can finally see – and returns with an out-of-breath thank you, a bright and beaming smile, and a nervous, delicate kiss to his cheek. She arranges to have a town car take him back to the garage – “There are always snacks in the back,” she tells him sneakily. “Be sure to grab some cookies for Lana before you get out.” – and lingers out on the sidewalk, waving goodbye as it pulls away.

He texts – no more than thirty seconds later – asking if he can take her to dinner. Tonight… tomorrow… any damn night of the week.

She’s about to text him back – thumbs lingering over the phone, bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth, only barely staving off the wide smile tugging at her face – when an all too familiar voice sounds playfully – and a bit intrusively – from the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” Tony asks, watching her with more than a hint of amusement as she perches with her hip atop her desk, staring longing down at the phone in her hand.

She lets out a small, surprised gasp, eyes shooting up to see him leaning lazily on the doorjamb, ankles and arms both casually crossed. “Tony,” she mutters by way of hello. Or perhaps by way of fuck off.

He unfolds his limbs and saunters into the small office. “Saw you come in on the security cam,” he says, idly raking a finger over the side of her desk as he approaches. He sidles up beside her, leans on the dark oak with his hip butting up next to hers, and reaches out to give a small tug at the gray suit jacket she only just put on. “Didn’t look like you were wearing this.” He raises a curious – and also rather knowing – brow. “Looked more like you were wearing the same thing you had on yesterday.”

She shifts to face him, narrowing her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Sri Lanka?”

He shrugs – “Left last night.” – and swipes at his palms in a gesture of finality. “Made the deal… moved on.”

She pulls away and circles the desk to drop down into the small office chair behind it. “These are the kinds of things you should keep me in the loop on, you know?” she mutters, entering in her password and quickly scrolling through the daily and weekly schedule on her computer. “Looks like you were supposed to have a nine o’clock with the CEO of – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts blithely, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “I canceled it. It’s fine. No messes for you to clean up this time. I promise.” She raises a wary brow. “I promise.”

“Alright,” she capitulates, swiftly pushing the thick-rimmed glasses back up her nose. “In that case, you should probably check in with Pepper and see what she needs you to do.”

He lets out a loud psh. “She’s got it under control.”

Annie looks up at him from over the top of the glasses. “Tony, your wedding is in a month.”

“Six weeks,” he argues blandly. “Six and a half weeks.” He slides to the very corner of the desk, twisting further to face her as a sly expression takes over her face. “And don’t you try to distract me from your love life by citing my own. I’m not that easily swayed.”

Her head drops, eyes turning back to the computer screen before her as she lets out a warning, “Tony.”

“I checked on the Cobra first,” he goes on, unaffected by her lame threat. “Everything looks good.” He shrugs. “I didn’t notice any bodily fluids anywhere, but… should I get the blacklight?”

“Tony!” she shrieks, jolting upright in her chair. A bright blush shoots up her neck, causing him to almost giggle with delight.

“Is that a no?”

She releases a small, rather despondent-sounding grunt. “No. Of course you don’t need a… blacklight. God. Who do you think I am?”

He shrugs, absently fiddling with the pens kept in the Good Morning, Sunshine! mug at the corner of her desk. He frowns down at the far too jolly smiling sun on the cup and mutters, “I think you’re a woman who needs to get laid.”

She leans back with a huff. “Tony, we’ve had this discussion. You can’t say things like that to an employee.”

“One day I’m going to put you in charge of HR,” he says, his tone almost threatening.

She settles a stern stare on him and begins a slow, steady rock in her chair. “Maybe I’d like to head up HR.”

He waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Nah, you like people too much to be one of those soul crushers. You’re better than that.” He pushes off the desk and waggles a pointed finger at her. “You,” he intones deliberately. “I have plans for you.”

“Well,” she breathes out, pulling herself back up to her desk and shooting a quick glance at the chiming reminder on her computer. “I hope that someday you’ll tell me about them.” Her eyes fixate on the new emails – nothing of any import, but a decent distraction all the same – as something churns and whirs with anticipation deep down in her gut.

“Someday I will,” he announces. “But in the meantime, I want you to at least try to focus on your personal life. I mean… not so much that you’re not here for me every time I need you…”

“So, every minute of the day?” she chirps with a sardonic lilt.

“But… well, I think you should at least try to find someone worthwhile to bring to my wedding.”

She looks up at him, a bemused expression building as a small grin grows. “Are you saying I should ask Bucky to be my plus one?”

He rolls his eyes – “No.” – and then drops a languid sigh. “I don’t know, kid. Are you sure about this one?” Her brows tug together confusedly, sparking a slight chuckle from her boss. “I get that the whole mechanic thing is a turn on for you. And, sure… I’ve seen the guy…” His face pulls into a teasing smirk, brows wiggling wildly. “Hot to trot.”

“Tony,” she chokes out amid a soft, bubbling chortle.

“But,” he goes on, tone turning somber. “He’s got a kid. And an ex. And that’s a lot of baggage for someone your age.”

“I’m almost thirty,” she tells him pointedly.

“Which is young. Trust me.”

“Tony,” she starts, tone matter of fact. “I’m okay with the kid. And the ex… although, I haven’t actually met her yet.” She drops a quick shrug.

He stares at her for a long moment, pensive expression settling on his face. “You’ll never come first, you know,” he utters finally, a tenderness to his voice. “I think you deserve to come first.”

Her eyes shift away from his achingly sincere stare. And she shrugs again, a tightness in her shoulders anchoring the forced casual gesture as she lets his words seep into her. “We’ve only been on a couple of dates anyway,” she intones softly. “It’s not like… it’s not like I’m expecting anything. We’re just… having fun.”

He nods, lips pursing. “Fun is good. You deserve fun too.”

Her lips quirk into a crooked smirk. “I deserve so much,” she mocks lightly.

He raises a brow, gives her as stern a look as he can muster. “I’m just trying to look out for you, kid.”

“I know,” she capitulates easily. “But, like I said, right now… this isn’t anything… serious. It’s not like you need to start your security checks just yet.”

“Oh, I ran those weeks ago. He’s clean. Mostly. One arrest in his early twenties… drunken disorderly. But… who among us, am I right?” She raises a rather rebuking brow. “Yeah. No, not you, obviously. Which is kind of my point. You’re… good, Annie. And that means you deserve good. And I’m not saying that this Bucky isn’t good. I’m just saying that you need to make sure he’s… good for you. Before you let yourself get too charmed. I met him, remember?” He shrugs, that teasing glint returning to his eye. “I was charmed.”

“Okay, Tony. Thank you,” she says, rising from her seat and taking hold of his arm. “Thank you for your concern. And for your… wisdom.”

He spins as she ushers him to the door. “Thank you for seeing that I’m so wise.”

She gives him a small shove out into the hall, soft chuckle spilling from her lips as she says, “I promise to be careful. Okay?”

He snorts in response, tiniest grin pulling at his lips, and he cocks his chin toward the cell left abandoned on her desk. “Better go text him back,” he intones lightly. “Nothing kills a budding romance like ghosting a potential suitor right after spending the night with him.”

000

By the time Bucky makes it back to Brooklyn, it’s after nine, the shop already having been open for over an hour, though he has a hard time feeling guilty about being late after Steve’s blatant tardiness the day before. Until, that is, a long and drawn-out whine greets him the moment he steps through the door.

“Daddy,” Svetlana drones as she hops directly into his path. Her tiny hands are tightly fisted, resting on her hips as she stares him down with an overdone frown. “You’re late!”

He stops short and quickly bends over to sweep her up into his arms. “I know, baby doll,” he breathes out gently. “I’m sorry.” He gives her a little jostle – and a wide, wily smile – as he moves towards the counter where Steve stands, finishing up with a drop-off. He glances to the side and sees a giant donut box sitting open on the counter next to a half-empty bottle of apple juice, and he rolls his eyes at his friend’s utterly predicable attempt at breakfast.

Steve shoots Bucky a grin and tells the man in front of him – who looks way too damn old to be driving –  that his Caddy should be ready by four. Then, after nodding a thanks to the old man and turning his attention entirely to his friend, he cocks a teasing brow and asks, “Where were you?” The question comes out with more than a hint of innuendo, his bright blue eyes positively gleaming as he waits for a response.

Bucky merely shrugs, still too preoccupied with erasing the glum look from his little girl’s face. “Did you miss me that much?” he asks Lana, pressing his lips into her curls and breathing in the soft scent of lavender baby shampoo. She says nothing, simply nods and wraps her arms tight around his neck, curling in close. “You smell good,” he prattles into her hair. “You get a bath last night?”

“Yeah,” she sighs out, voice sounding oddly dejected. He gives her another light bounce and she lets go of his neck, pulls back from him a bit so she can look him in the eye when she declares, “I like it at mama’s because… ‘cause… I can be a fish. Or a turtle. Or… or…” She spins in his grip and looks to Steve for guidance.

“A mermaid,” he croons with a wide grin as he leans casually over the counter.

“Yeah.” She shoves her hair out of her eyes, a hint of frustration blooming in her still-sour face as she squints at the sun filtering in through the wall of windows. “But… but… she don’t have all the bubbles.”

He smiles to himself, thinking about the absolutely astounded look on his baby’s face when he brought home a bubble bath variety pack a few weeks back. “Well, we can’t all be perfect,” he mutters lightly as she curls into him once again, scrunching her face and shifting to bury herself deeper into his chest. She huffs out an irritated breath and he glances up at Steve, shooting him a questioning look.

He lets out a long sigh. “Somebody didn’t want to go to bed last night,” he explains, raising an accusatory brow as he ducks his head to peek at the well-hidden little girl. “Too excited to hang out with mommy.”

She lets out a small grunt and tucks herself further into Bucky, rubbing her face into his chest as she turns away from Steve with apparent disdain.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky mumbles, hiking her a bit higher with his left arm as his right hand winds into her dark hair. “And Natasha was too happy to be back home to tell her she had to go to bed.” Steve’s lips quirk down as he lets out a casual shrug. “And even though this baby is tired as can be, you filled her up on sugar,” he says, eyes ticking towards the mostly empty donut box on the counter. “Am I right?”

“Svetlana,” he utters, voice a low, conspiratorial whisper as he tries once again to reach her. “I think your dad is on to us.”

Bucky merely rolls his eyes as his hips begin a slow sway, the little girl’s body growing steadily heavier in his arms as he gently rocks her.

“Either that,” Steve starts again, teasing glint returning to his gaze, “or he’s just using you to avoid telling us where he was all morning.”

“I texted to tell you I’d be late,” he returns, the words spilling softly from his lips, just above the crown of Lana’s head.

“You did,” he hums with a nod. “But that still doesn’t answer the question… where were you? And who were you with?”

Another eyeroll, this one even deeper. Yet he can’t quite keep the small, crooked smile from splitting his face, even as he offers a short snort in response. He turns away from Steve and pulls back a bit, ducking his chin to look down at his little girl, her tired, glassy eyes still open and blinking up at him. “What else did you do last night, huh, baby?” he asks, eager to avoid the knowing smirk plastered across his friend’s face.

But of course, Steve’s not one to back down. Not ever. Hell, if he knew how to effectively shut that guy up, he’d have been able to save him from his fair share of ass beatings… probably would’ve been able to save himself from a few as well. “What did you do last night?” the blond counters cheekily, winking over at the pair.

Lana lets out a long yawn, ignores her uncle entirely, and tells Bucky, “We had spaghetti and meatballs. And then dinosaurs.”

“You had dinosaurs?” he asks, eyes widening as he gazes down at her. “Did Steve put ‘em on the grill for you, or did you have to eat ‘em raw?”

“No, daddy,” she says, leaning back in his grip again and slapping him dully in the chest. “They’re on TV.”

“We watched a movie,” Steve corrects with a soft laugh.  

He looks up at him with an accusatory note. “Please tell me it wasn’t Jurassic Park.”

He scoffs. “Are you nuts? She’s with us for the next three days. I’d only show her something that’ll give her nightmares on a night that you have her.”

“Littlefoot,” Lana murmurs softly before pressing her thumb into her mouth, tucking herself back into her father’s hold, and letting her eyes finally flutter shut.

Bucky huffs out a sigh, his hips still absently swaying in a soothing rhythm for the girl in his arms. “I hope you’re happy,” he whispers over the top of her head as she burrows deeper into his chest. “She’s not gonna nap this afternoon now.” He sets off for the back office, taking short, lazy steps along the way.

Steve follows hot on his heels. “S’fine,” he offers with a shrug, hopping in front of him to swing open the door. He turns and digs around in the corner, eager to find the fleece Cars blanket that lives here for just these occasions. “That’s pre-K’s problem.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky mutters, pacing slowly back and forth in the small space for a few minutes more. He coos gently to the baby in his arms, pressing his nose to her hair and giving her the occasional small bounce, a habit picked up from when she was so tiny and delicate – and also loud as fuck. He’d had no idea that a baby’s wails could reach that earsplitting decibel, nor that he would ever be so desperate to make a noise stop. Natasha’s presence seemed to calm her right away, back in those first days and weeks. But Bucky… he had to work for it, building different routines of pacing and swaying, rocking and bouncing, shushing and cooing until finally some combination of them all might get her to settle.

Steve waits until he can hear the small, telltale snores of sleep emanating from the little girl, and he steps back to let Bucky gently deposit her onto the sofa by the window. Then he drapes the blanket over her, tucking it loosely around her curled-up form. “I’m gonna have to call them and tell them she’ll be in late,” he mumbles to himself before pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs distractedly as he waits for Steve to follow him out of the office so he can pull the door most of the way shut. They step back over to the counter at the front of the shop and he pats down his pockets, just now remembering the cookies he’d stashed from the town car. He pulls them out and drops them into the open box of donuts before plucking the last remaining blueberry cruller and biting into it.

“Uh,” Steve starts, staring blankly at the cookies. “Where did those come from?”

He swallows down the pastry and glares at his friend for a moment, seeming to think long and hard about just how much he really wants to share, unsure if it might come back to bite him. Ultimately, though… “Annie stayed the night and she slept with her contacts in… couldn’t really see in the morning, so I drove her to work and she sent me here in a town car. Which had snacks,” spills swiftly out of him. Then he shrugs, casual as can be, and shoves the rest of the donut into his mouth.

Steve stares, slack jawed and silent, the corners of his lips ever so slowly rising into a coy smile. “She stayed the night?” he asks, shoulders pulling back and face taking on an almost exhilarated glow.

“Relax, pal,” he tells him, scrubbing his sticky hands clean with a loose napkin and reaching around the counter for a bottle of water. “She slept on the couch.”

His brows curl together. “Okay… but before she hit the couch…”

Bucky can’t help the playful grin that graces his features, his head shaking back and forth as he watches his friend rock expectantly on the balls of his feet, excitedly fishing for gossip. “What, now that you’re all settled, you need to live vicariously through someone else?”

“I’ve always lived vicariously through you, Buck,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And besides, I’m not excited for me, I’m excited for you.”

“Really?” he asks, voice swimming in cynicism.

Steve pulls back a bit, face tightening, genuinely affronted. “Yeah, really.”

Bucky merely takes a long pull of the water, nodding absently but saying nothing in return.

“What, you think…” He shakes his head, confusion washing over his features. Confusion and… dismay. “I don’t get it,” he says softly. “I like Annie. I mean, I only just met her. But she seems great. And you… you deserve someone great.”

He gives him a bit of a snake-eyed glare, eyes narrowed incredulously. “Someone great or just someone?”

“What? Buck… what are you talking about?”

“C’mon,” he says, a bit of nonchalance slipping into his otherwise stilted tone. “You and Nat want me to find someone so you don’t have to keep feeling guilty.”

Steve’s eyes blow wide. “Uh, no. No, that’s not it at all.” He looks across the counter at his friend, solemnity clouding the piercing blue of his eyes. “We don’t feel guilty. Not anymore, anyway. I thought… I thought we were past that.”

Bucky swallows thickly, his breath stuttering in his chest. “I… we are… but…”

He shakes his head languidly, a bit of a frown tugging at his lips. “Buck, we just want you to be happy. And not because… because we feel guilty or, I don’t know, bad about anything that happened. Because the way things happened… You and Nat had been broken up for a long time.”

“I know that,” he interjects stiffly.

“We want you to be happy because we love you.”

His eyes shift away, gaze turning down towards the counter and focusing on each and every chip and scuff that mars its surface. “I know,” he admits, sounding all too regretful. He looks up after a moment, feeling Steve’s eyes boring into him the entire time. “I know,” he says again with a tight nod.

He raises a brow and offers a quick nod himself, a wordless, good, glad you get it. And he asks again, “So, what did you do last night?”

Bucky lets out a long, deflating sigh, shoulders drooping as he drops his elbows to the counter and leans heavily atop it. “We… I don’t know,” he mutters, almost sounding as though the whole thing is just too painful to talk about.

Steve groans. “You know, back in the day, you had no problem telling me all about your sexual escapades. Even when I – politely – asked you to shut the hell up about them.”

“First of all,” he intones, raising a brow at the man across from him, “I mostly did that because you told me to shut the hell up.” A small shit-eating grin tugs at his lips. “You’d blush so hard,” he teases with a short chuckle.

“Shaddup.”

“Second of all,” he announces, pulling himself upright, “there were no sexual escapades. Get your mind outta the gutter.”

He shrugs. “So what did you guys do? I wanna know. I gotta see how it stacks up to my night with spaghetti and mermaids and dinosaurs.” He cocks a brow and ticks a sly smile. “We also had a magical tea party before bath time. Can you beat that?”

He thinks about the princess dress – and the fairy wand that Annie found just after dinner and used on him, casting magical spells that resulted in a rather weird and kind of lame game of truth or dare – and he grins to himself, cradling the memory deep down inside. “No. Can’t quite beat that.”

“But… you said you drove the Cobra this morning?”

“Yeah,” he returns, a bright sort of enthusiasm washing over him. “And a little last night.” He gives a subtle shrug. “Annie was pretty tired after we stopped for ice cream, so she let me drive for a bit.”

“Back to your place?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes, back to my place. Where we talked, ate Chinese food, and went to sleep. Then I helped get her to work this morning, and… that’s it.”

He lets out an almost surprised sounding, “Hm,” earning him little more than a questioning look from his friend, a rather impatient look, truth be told. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned talking to a girl in a long time,” he says then, expression thoughtful.

Bucky’s countenance cracks, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Well, it seems like every date you’ve been on over the last few years has either been a disaster or, you know… a one night stand. I don’t think I’ve heard you say that you’ve spent time actually talking to someone in a while.”

His eyes tick nervously away. “I guess.”

“And you liked it?”

“Talking to her? Yeah, sure. I told you, she’s nice.”

Steve nods, brilliant smile pulling across his face. “So you’re going to see her again? I mean, two dates filled with talking… this could be big.”

The expression on his face is so over-the-top excited that Bucky can’t help but laugh, even through the rather intense eyeroll. “Yeah, I’m gonna see her again,” he replies, corners of his mouth shifting and setting into a beaming grin. “I like her. Alright? Is that what you want me to say? You want me to admit that I like her?”

He laughs as well – bright and buoyant – nodding all the while. “Yeah, man. That’s exactly what I want you to say.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x oc #LDAMC #dad!bucky #marvelau #bucky imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfic

[lovemesomesurveys]

[yoliebloop]

Hey bitch, What’s your fucking name? Um, you can chill. I’m not telling you now.

what color are your nails? They’re not painted.

last time you got some ass? Never.

do your parents like your style/music choices? My mom and I like a lot of the same music. My dad and I like some of the same stuff as well.

ever been verbally abused? No.

ever been in a fight? why? Not a physical one. I’m not a fighter and I’ve never been in the position where I or someone else wanted to fight, thankfully.

do you believe in God? Yes.

describe your looks? Trash.

in 4 words describe your day. I didn’t drag myself outta bed until 6 and now it’s 10, so in that short amount of time I’ve just had coffee, caught up on social media, watched TV, had dinner, and now here we are.

when did you last break down? Last night. did you take mirror pictures a lot? Back in the Myspace days.

what do you do before you sleep? My nighttime routine consists of scrolling through Tumblr, doing surveys, and listening to ASMR.

what time do you fall asleep on school nights? I’m done with school.

one season forever - which one? Fall.

do you use hair products? Just shampoo and detangling spray.

what's the worst thing about your school? --

what food do you always have in your house? Ramen.

last time you showered? Last night.

ever seen your parents make out? No.

who was your first kiss? My boyfriend at the time, Derek.

what's your dream height and weight? I wish I were taller and weighed a little more.

do you put your hair up a lot or down? It’s always up in a messy bun cause I don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything with it.

most of the time do you straighten or curl your hair? Neither.

what do you do when your house loses power? Thankfully, we’ve only experienced power outages that lasted a couple hours at most so we just wait it out, really. 

what piercing do you hate? I’m not big on piercings, but I don’t hate any. were you raised in a religious house? No.

do your parents get mad when your on the computer for hours? No, I’m 31 years old.

what kind of iPod do you have? I have an iPod Touch still, but it’s been stored away, unused, since like 2012.

have you ever been asked for a nude picture? Yes.

what's your favorite thing about your crush/bf/gf? I don’t have a crush or boyfriend.

what's the worst thing? --

ever been so scared you pissed? No.

can you watch scary movies at night and not be scared? Yeah.

would you rather be held or kissed? can't have both pick one! Kissed.

do you use a watch or a cell phone? I just use my phone.

last reason you got your cell taken away? I’ve never had a phone taken away.

When you cry is it usually hard to breathe? Yeah, cause I’m worked up and then my nose gets all stuffed up as well.

what song can bring you down? Sad ones.

On rainy days what are you mostly doing? I don’t do anything different.

Do you listen to sad music when your upset? Sometimes. I don’t turn to music as much anymore, though. 

Has anyone laughed in your face when your crying? Wow, no.

If you get the chance to kill your enemy, would you? I don’t want to commit murder and I don’t have any enemies.

if your in a hurry how do you do your hair? Like I said, it’s always up in a messy bun regardless. 

Style?(classy,trashy,goth) Super casual.

What's your current dream job I don’t have one.

what song is always playing on your iPod/stereo? I haven’t been listening to music much.

when you cry can you speak clearly? No. I don’t want to talk when I’m crying and upset.

What would you do if your parent hit you? Wow... I don’t know. I can’t imagine my parents ever doing that.

What's your most common mood? Sad, moody, irritable.

what's your grades in school/what were your grades? I always got As and Bs.

do you like poems? Some. I don’t read much poetry.

do you quote lyrics on your status often? Not anymore, but I used to.

what band would you love to hang out with? Hmm.

who has your heart right now? Myself.

have you ever felt so hurt you can't move? Yes.

do you wear your jammies all day on weekends? My jammies are also what I wear during the day, which are leggings and oversized graphic tees. 

take out the 2nd and 3rd letter of your name, how would it be spelled? Sphanie. 

would your rather never hear or never see?(just pick one) Ah, I don’t know.

Have you ever caught your ex cheating? No.

ever see yourself going to jail? No. does your family look down on you? No. I look down on myself, though.

last song you sang? I don’t remember.

do you know all the words to your top 3 favorite songs? I couldn’t choose my top 3 favorite songs.

when you lie to someone can you look at them in eyes? No.

do think Jerry Springer is fake? Absolutely.

Megan Fox or Kat Von D? I’m not a fan of either one. Nothing against them or anything, I’m just not.

has the last person you kissed slept with more then 3 girls? I’m sure.

ever been tested for any STD's? No, I’ve never needed to be.

what's on your take of music these days? I like a lot of it.

do you make your bed? It stays made cause I sleep on top and just use a throw blanket that I keep to the side.

what food item could you live off of? I eat ramen everyday, but that’s just one meal. I couldn’t just eat that or any one thing forever.

how much money did you last spend? A little over $30.

do you think its weird when girls change in front of their bf/gf? No?

to do like Techno, Rock, or Rap remixes of songs? Some.

can you name one song by the Beatles? “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

this Christmas, what do you want but cant have? I don’t know what I want, yet.

tongue ever hurt from eating to much sour candy? It doesn’t take much for my mouth and tongue to get irritated, which is why I’m not a fan of sour stuff. Or just the sour taste in general. I did used to like Sour Skittles, but yeah those really messed up my tongue.

rather get Chinese or pizza delivered? Pizza.

do you like cartoon or anime? Cartoons.

do you think anime porn is kind of creepy? I don’t get the hentai thing, sorry.

are glasses hot to you? Some guys do look good in them.

what do/did you usually eat at school lunches? In elementary school I liked the pizza, burritos, and chicken sandwiches. In middle school I brought my lunch a lot of the time. In high school I got school lunch during my freshman year, which was the same stuff for the most part and then the other years I brought my own. 

get a new camera or new phone? I just got a new phone this past Christmas and I use the camera on my phone, so I don’t have a need for a new camera either.

do your parents have time limits on phone calls? I’m 31 years old, but no back in the day they didn’t so long as I did my homework.

what about when you have to be in bed? When I was a kid, yeah.

does short hair girls mean there a lezbo? No...

would you change your eye color? Yeah, I’d love to have blue or green.

last person that saw you naked (can't be yourself) That’s it, though.

ever kissed someone half naked? No.

is being sweaty nasty? Ugh, yes.

do you wax, shave, or pluck your eyebrows? I pluck them.

would you spend 5,000 for hairless armpits and legs forever? Nah, I’ll just shave.

do you think its gay for male swimmers to shave there legs? No...

can you talk about your flaws and not be embarrassed? I own my flaws.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 111

June 30

You know it's been a busy day when I don't even start typing my journal until after midnight, but the funny part is that the day only got busy at like 10:15pm. Huge apartment complex fire one city over, and though I didn't have to go out to the scene this time, they had me doing virtual response, calling people and getting their information into the computers so the on-scene people could do the other necessary stuff. Twelve units, Jesus Christ. It always make me think, just for a minute, what we would do if it happened in our building. We have an escape plan, the kiddo even has a fire ladder under his bed that he knows  how to use because our kitchen is between his room and the door, and in sixteen years of renting we have never even had a fire evacuation, but it's just that thought in the back of your head. I don't think there were any bad injuries on this one, at least. 

Anyway, I am done for now, so I have fed the kittens but will forgo another cuddling session till tomorrow because Barry gets hissy when he is tired. Even more hissy. I toughed up today, put on long sleeves and gloves, and actually gave Barry a cuddle session, half-burritoed in a blanket. He was super not into being picked up, but once I had him, he was very compliant and just let me pet him for ten whole minutes. Progress! Bixby now does elevator butt when I pet him, which is extremely cute. I think Bixby may be ready to be let out to explore, and that means I need to clean up and kittenproof this room a lot more. My setup is for baby kittens, not big kittens who can totally jump hella high. Barry will not be ready for a little while, I think, but we'll keep working on it. I'm really happy that he never actually tried to bite me. That's a very good sign. "Will not bite you" is an important line item for most adopters. 

The kiddo and I went out this evening but did not leave the car, so I'm not sure if it counts. We turned on Pokemon Go and drove around to the Pokestops that are not within walking distance, and a couple of nearby gyms, where we got our pokebutts handed to us but had a good time. It is a little weird loitering around in church parking lots and outside the post office while the kiddo plays. Luckily, there was nobody else around at all in most of these places. I got a weird look from one maintenance guy but that was about it. Even just getting out a little bit put the kiddo in a better mood than yesterday, plus his room is finally clean and that helps. I made him take a shower this morning with conditioner because his hair was an unbelievable rat's nest that hadn't been brushed for days. I sprayed him down with detangler and spent half an hour carefully brushing out his hair and drying it with the hair dryer. He looked much better after that! I don't mind him having long hair if he wants it, but he needs to start doing his own maintenance if that is the case. It's nice to brush his hair once in awhile, though.

Today was the last day of the month, which means payday, which means tomorrow is grocery pickup day, yay! Walmart is back to next-day pickup availability around here, a very pleasing turn of events. I am still pretty nervous about all the new COVID cases all over, so it's a pretty big order, plus I can finally get hold of a few things I've wanted but couldn't get, like yeast! There are several cat toys in the mix as well, plus the stand fans we want for the bedrooms. Walmart has greatly expanded their pickup-available inventory since I started using it a couple of years ago in Florida. Back then it was pretty much just groceries from the grocery section, now I can get a new shower curtain shopped for me and put in my car! (I am doing that tomorrow because our current one got gross while we were gone so long.) It's very convenient, but at the same time I kind of wish I could just go into the store and push the cart around for an hour or two and look at stuff myself. A lot of people are doing that now, though, and doing it in really stupid and dangerous ways, so I'm going to stay home for everybody's sake. 

#quarantine #red cross #feral kittens

[s-horne]

8. Rhododendron (beware)

“I’m scared.”

Steve sighed. He was exhausted, bone-tired after having Peter crawl into bed beside him for days on end.

“I know you are,” Steve murmured, lifting his arm to let Peter cuddle into his chest, “but you really need to start sleeping in your own bed soon.”

“But they’re there,” Peter said with a wobble in his voice. “They can’t get me in your room.”

Steve took a deep breath to stop himself from pointing out the flawed logic in that statement. Any monsters that were hiding in Peter’s closet would have been more than capable of running across the hallway and taking up residence in Steve and Tony’s instead.

Peter’s sudden obsession with there being creatures living under his bed had coincided almost perfectly with Tony’s disappearance on a business trip on the other side of the country, but Steve couldn’t exactly blame the little boy. It wasn’t like Steve was immune to the absence of his husband and the loneliness was only growing more prominent when he was kept awake every night by a cranky and clingy child.

Carding his hand through Peter’s hair and letting out a soft sigh of relief when his eyes fluttered closed, Steve shuffled down the bed a little more. One more night, he told himself. He’d let it go for one more night.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

/

It was dark when Steve woke up. He let out a low moan at the fact that he was awake before he questioned what it was that had made him regain consciousness before his alarm.

A noise; a muffled thump coming from the direction of the kitchen. Steve jolted in the bed, whole body freezing as he strained to listen for more sounds. A few more bumps followed, the light chinking of china, a very faint curse.

Steve turned his head and relief flowed through him when he saw that Peter was still sleeping soundly, his body dwarfed by the comforter tucked right under his chin and his curls an unruly mess that would never detangle in a million years. That was one less thing to worry about, at least. God knows Steve would never sleep again if Peter woke up to a real-life monster in the house.

Turning back to face the door and about to make a move to get out of bed, Steve jumped out of his skin at the sight of a figure in the doorway.

“Shit!” he cried, barely remembering to be quiet as he threw a hand over his mouth in shock.

“Steve!” a familiar voice called out to him, arms held up in front of the silhouette in surrender. “Steve, shit. Babe, it’s only me.”

“Tony?” Steve dropped back onto the mattress as he slid his hand down to his chest, heart trying to beat right out of his chest. “Oh, fu – don’t do that to me.”

Tony padded into the room and crouched at the side of the bed, his hand hovering over Steve’s leg. “I texted you to say I was on my way home. Didn’t you see it?”

With a sigh, Steve sat up again and gestured for them to make their way out of the bedroom. They’d already been lucky not to wake Peter and Steve wasn’t taking any more chances.

“No,” Steve answered as he pulled the bedroom door shut behind him. “Can hardly remember to charge the damn thing, never mind think about where I put it.”

Tony winced when they made their way into the kitchen and Steve flicked the light on, bags under his eyes illuminated in full colour.

“Christ, baby. I know you said you were tired, but…”

Steve scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face and grimacing at the stubble that caught roughly. It was well past stubble, actually, and over half way to being a full beard with how many days it had been since Steve had had time to pick up a razor.

“Has he really not been sleeping?”

“No,” Steve said, resting his elbows on the table and letting his head fall into his palm. “He’s terrified all of a sudden. I can’t get him down in his room at all.”

Tony cursed as he switched on the kettle, fetching two mugs from the drying rack at the sink as quietly as he could. “He hasn’t watched anything?”

A yawn racked Steve’s body before he could give much of a verbal answer, but he shook his head anyway. “No. Like I said on the phone the other night, I have no idea where it came from. No films, no books, nothing at school. He’s just suddenly convinced there are monsters everywhere in there.”

“I’m sorry.” Tony crossed the room in a matter of seconds and wrapped his arms around Steve from behind. He dropped his head onto Steve’s shoulder and pressed kisses to the skin of his neck, nosing beneath Steve’s baggy t-shirt to get even closer. “I should have been here for you. For both of my boys.”

Steve lifted his hand and cupped Tony’s forearm against his chest. “You’re here now,” he said, closing his eyes and finally relaxing into his husband’s embrace as he’d longed to do for a solid week. “We’ve got you now.”

//

“Daddy,” Steve heard Peter say from inside his bedroom and knew trouble was starting. They’d had a good day finally back together, even managing to get Peter to take a long nap on the couch with Tony, but Steve had been dreading bedtime all day. “Daddy, don’t make me stay in here. Please.”

Steve bit his tongue as he waited to hear what Tony was going to say. It wasn’t that Tony was soft, but they’d all had a rough week or two and some days it was just easier to give in to the puppy-eyes instead of having to be the Bad Parent.

“Oh, kiddo, don’t say that. I bought something very special back from my trip; something just for you.”

There was a pause and a sniff.

“What is it?”

Even Steve was intrigued and he crept forward until he could peek round the doorframe into Peter’s room. He smiled at the sight of father and son cuddled on the little boy’s bed, Peter half on Tony’s lap with his arms clasped tightly around his favourite teddy.

“It’s an extra special potion,” Tony said, his eyes wide and voice low enough to create a bit of mystery. Peter’s attention was fully grasped – and Steve wasn’t far behind. “I had to go deep into the mountains to find this, Pete. Had to follow a secret trial and talk to a lot of important people.”

Peter gasped, head tilted back as he stared up at Tony. “What? Daddy, who did you talk to?”

“I talked to a witch.” Peter startled and Steve caught the way that Tony’s mouth twitched. “And then I talked to a Monster Catcher.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his arms squeezed his teddy nearly hard enough to split its stitches. “Daddy, that’s dan’rous! Monsters are scary.”

“Oh, I know,” Tony said with a grave nod. “That’s why they have to have Monster Catchers. But you know what?”

The look on Peter’s face was one of almost true terror and Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. They’d sort of thought it was just a childish fear, maybe even an excuse for Peter to spend the night in Steve’s big bed, but the boy looked genuinely scared at the mere mention of monsters.

“The Monster Catcher and the witch were very helpful. When I told them that I thought we might have a slight problem here, they started thinking of ways that we could solve it.” Tony hugged Peter to him for a moment and looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes through the crack in the door. With a motion of his head, Tony gestured for Steve to join them.

“What they say?” Peter asked into Tony’s shirt, nuzzling closer as Steve perched on the edge of the bed.

“They said that we could make a potion, kid.”

Steve reached out and took one of Tony’s hands in his, squeezing it lightly. Though he didn’t know where his husband was going with his story, he was certainly glad that he was no longer alone.

“Potion?”

“Mhm.” Tony very gently pushed Peter back up into a sitting position before he reached behind him and pulled out a spray bottle. It was a clear plastic with a large sticker on its front; a proud picture of a fuzzy blue monster with a thick red cross over the top of it. “This here, Petey-Pie, is a very special potion. It’s a monster repellent that I made myself!”

Peter’s eyes darted from Tony’s face down to the bottle in his hand, over and over and over again. “You?”

“Yup. Made it myself, babe, just for you.”

Steve’s heart was in his throat, tears threatening to fall. Never in a hundred years would he have ever come up with something so simple as a ‘monster repellent’, and yet Tony had thought of it whilst not even being around to deal with the problem first-hand. He had been knee-deep in meetings for a week and he’d still managed to take the time to find the materials for a DIY craft. It was bound to be nothing more than water in a dollar-store spray bottle, but Steve had never been more in love, never been more grateful for a single person ever in his life.

“Does it work?”

“Does it – does it work?” Tony echoed his son’s question, faux-outrage colouring his tone as he surged forward and caught Peter under his armpits, fingertips ticking the little boy and making him scream a laugh. “Of course it works, you cheeky little thing; Daddy made it!”

Steve couldn’t help his own laugh as he watched his two favourite people joke about, but he also couldn’t keep the thoughts of the past week out of his mind. Peter had had far too little sleep for a child of his age and Steve was desperate to rectify that.

“Alright,” he said finally, smiling as Peter dropped backwards onto the mattress with a heaving chest, “I think it’s way past someone’s bedtime.”

All too soon, the glee fell from Peter’s face and the fear came back. Before he could panic too much, Steve reached out and pushed his hair from his forehead. “The potion, Pete. It’s all going to be okay now, huh?”

“Will you do it?” Peter asked, hand darting out for the teddy he’d dropped in his excitement. “Will you spray it now?”

“Of course I will,” Steve said. Sharing a quick look with Tony – one that he hoped conveyed every overwhelming feeling of love and thankfulness and sheer, unbridled adoration – Steve took the bottle and stood up.

Making a big show of every movement he made, Steve walked across the room until he was stood at the closed door of Peter’s closet. Seeing the look on his son’s face and the way he was trying to hide behind Tony’s arm was all of the push Steve needed and he cracked the door open barely an inch before he started spraying.

After twenty seconds or so, he twisted to look over his shoulder, spray bottle held at the ready as he lifted an eyebrow. “Think I got them?”

“The bed,” Peter said, though a good three-quarters of his body was visible as he slowly moved away from Tony. “Under the bed, please.”

“Alright then.” Steve headed back to his family and crouched down. “I’m sorry, monsters,” he called out to the storage boxes and odd shoes he could see under Peter’s metal-framed bed, spraying them with what he really, seriously, hoped was just water, “but this house is not the place for you anymore.”

“See, kiddo?” Tony said, drawing Steve’s attention back to the top of the bed. “Nothing’s going to get you now. Not with Papa and Daddy here. You’re safe, okay?”

Finally, Peter nodded, face free of the hideous terror that had been etched all over it barely minutes previous.

“Think you can sleep now?”

“I think so, Daddy,” Peter said, voice already dropping low and eyes drooped. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Pete.” Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead before he stood up. “We love you so much.”

“Love too,” came some sort of garbled reply and Steve chuckled as he accepted Tony’s hand up.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Steve set the bottle of ‘Monster Repellent’ on the shelf next to Peter’s bed before he gave his own kiss to his son’s soft cheek. “Love you millions.”

 /

 “I love you,” Steve said, something close to desperation in his tone. They’d barely made it out of Peter’s bedroom and into their own before Steve had crowded Tony against the wall and caught his lips. “I do. God, Tony, I really do. I love you so much.”

“And I you,” Tony answered, accepting Steve’s deep kiss and surrendering to it quickly. “Missed you, baby. Missed you too much.”

The slide of Tony’s calloused hands over his back made Steve groan. It was too much after a week with no contact and yet never, ever enough.

“I can’t believe you,” Steve said in between heady kisses, “I can’t believe you did that. Monster spray. Damn monster spray.”

“It was easy,” Tony panted, lips brushing against Steve’s instead of moving back enough to talk clearly. “It was nothing.”

“Not nothing.” Sliding his hands down to grip Tony’s thighs, Steve pushed Tony harder into the wall. “That was not nothing. That was perfect. Amazing. I love you.”

“Anything for you. For either of you, both of you, I’d do anything.”

“Don’t ever leave again, you hear me?” Steve begged into Tony’s neck, tongue darting out to lick a thick stripe up Tony’s throat. “You’re never leaving me.”

“Never,” Tony replied, voice steady as his hands found their way into Steve’s hair, fingers tugging in a delicious way that had Steve’s teeth biting down on Tony’s collarbone. “I’m staying with my boys.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

#i wrote a thing #august in bloom #i don't know how or why i wrote 2k about monsters under the bed #stony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony au #superfamily fic #peter stark rogers #steve rogers #tony stark #kid fic #stevetony fic rec #superfamily fic rec

[spideyxparker]

love is war / p.b.p

A/N: Here is the prologue for my baby peter parker series. pls be kind, requests for imagines are also open :)) thank u! love u!

Prologue:

Rebeca's POV:

Before Strucker's work in Sokovia, there was Russia.

Before Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, there was me.

Orphaned as a baby, I was immediately put into a children's home in St. Petersburg. There I lived for almost 7 years, spending my days with the friends I had made and singing in the shower to pass the time. While it wasn't the most glamorous of upbringings, I had all I could ever want... except a family. I knew that it was inevitable, I either got adopted or I would be left to grow up an orphan and never be anything more.

I can remember the fateful day when there were whispers that a woman had come in looking to adopt a little girl. I quickly put on my favorite blue dress and tidied my half of my shared room just incase someone would come in. By some sort of miracle of fate, I was chosen out of all the girls in the home by the woman, whose name, she told me, was Tanya. She took me out of the city and to this dark factory just north of a remote village, I remember that she spoke softly to me as she told me that this was to be my new home. However, as soon as I walked in the huge iron-clad gates I could tell that a 'home' is the last thing that this place would be.

For years, I have tried to forget about the way that the evil men poked and prodded me with different tools. Forcing me down onto a table and strapping my arms down only to have an array of needles shoved into my veins; glowing, white liquids disappearing into my body. If I closed my eyes, I could see my limbs covered in carelessly-placed bandages and bruises, 'My battle scars.'

I had grown out of my favorite blue dress quickly and the scientists ever so kindly gifted me with one of their old, overly large t-shirts that wielded the HYDRA emblem. My hair grew long and knotty, and I had ripped part of the t-shirt off to tie it all up and out of my face. The rosy cheeks that I once showed off proudly were now sullen and lightly brushed with dirt. I marked the walls in lines, with a piece of coal I had found in the dustiest corner of my 'room', to count the seemingly endless days that passed. My childish hopefulness faded quickly with the weeks and months that passed. I knew that there was a slim chance that I would live through this nightmare; let alone escape it.

That morning had started off the same as any average one, shaken awake, hosed off, and the testing began. I was shown to the padded cell and sat on the ground, holding onto my favourite soft, plush elephant for comfort. The small window that led to the outside world was suddenly banged on, with a shout of "Вы знаете, что вы должны делать!" being thrown at me from the angry white coats. 'Play with the toys and they will not yell,' I tried to remind myself. I found the other toys tossed around the room, and I grabbed the ragged doll with long, dark hair and a beautiful violet dress on. I had decided to name her Rebeca as well and I played with her for what seemed like hours until I heard more shouting from outside. Cautiously putting the doll down and looking towards the door, I backed away into the farthest corner of the room, taking the stuffed elephant with me. I waited to see what was going to happen next and the world seemed silent, calm even before there was the horrible, sudden sounds of guns being fired. The tiny window gave way as a cascade of bullet smashed through it, spraying tiny shards of glass all around the room. Terrified, I let out a high scream and turned into the corner of the room, covering my head with my hands and huddling as small as I could, as an attempt to protect myself.

It was a short while before I heard the final gunshot sound and I still couldn't bring myself to detangle myself from the fetal position I had put myself in. When I heard the door to the padded room creak open, I held myself tighter, expecting the worst. It wasn't until I heard, "это нормально, я не собираюсь делать тебе больно," that I turned my head ever so slightly. I knew that I couldn't completely trust him just because he said that he wouldn't hurt me, I knew better than that. Slowly, the man came into my view offered a kind smile to me before, "I don't suppose you would mind putting down your forcefield, would you?" My eyebrows furrowed slightly, not understanding what on earth he was on about, until he tapped against an iridescent, glowing white ball of matter that had formed around me, that which I hadn't even noticed until just then. Gasping, I blinked and the next thing I knew, the forcefield was gone, and the kind looking man offered me a hand to help me stand. I stared up at him tentatively, wondering whether to trust him, but when he didn't go to grab me, I realised that he must be better than the white coats. Taking his hand, I stood from my protective corner of the room, and walked towards the door before suddenly stopping and tugging lightly on the mans arm, quickly running back to the cold corner and grabbing the elephant before rushing back and nodding, letting him know that I was ready.

The man held my hand gently as he led me out towards the forgotten outside world. The bright sunlight made me squint my eyes, as I readjusted to having natural light hit me. The first noise I heard was the twittering of birds and the distant caw of a crow. My eyes roamed the lush forestry that surrounded us, taking in the towering oak trees and cyan skies. A shiny, black car suddenly came into my view and drove up the long driveway, and the man knelt down next to me, "What is your name?" he asked me. Looking between the car and him, I took a deep breath and said, "Rebeca Alicia Petrova." "Well, Rebeca Alicia Petrova," he smiled, "let's get you out of here shall we?" He calmed opened the door of the nice car for me to get into, before sliding in next to me, "What do I call you?" I looked up at him curiously, waiting for him to answer. "You can call me Phil."

We had been traveling for what seemed like days, when in reality it was only a few hours, and the next thing that I knew, Phil and I were stood in a large glass box that brought us up higher and higher, I assumed it was taking us to where I would be kept. I held on tighter to Phil’s hand, the trust between us having grown immensely in the short time that we’ve been together. Eventually, the glass box came to a stop and the huge doors opened into an even bigger room with long, dark sofas that could probably hold about 45 people each, and a slim, black screen balanced on the wall.

Phil let go of my tiny hand when the doors shut behind us, and I took a small step forward to take in the marvellous sight around me. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps galloping down the staircase to the left of the room and I rushed back to hide behind Phil’s legs. To reassure me that there was nothing to be frightened of, Phil put his hand gently on my back and brought me around to face the other man. I held my shield of an elephant in front of me, as a precaution, as the well-dressed man bent down to meet my eyes, “Welcome to your new home.”

My name is Rebeca Alicia Petrova, and this is how I became a Stark.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland imagine #spiderman homecoming #spiderman imagine #fanfic

[tlbodine]

Hair

I’ve always had...baggage...about my hair. 

I was born bald as a cue-ball, a situation that took nearly a year to remedy before a fuzz of baby-fine curls installed themselves. There’s a curl from my first haircut in my baby book, and it’s the color of butter and finer than a spider web. 

By the time I was three, my hair was past my shoulders and coiled, bouncy gold ringlets that put Shirley Temple to shame. Strangers wanted to touch it, and often did, approaching me on the street and cooing in delight about what a pretty little girl I was and what wonderful hair I had. They called me Goldilocks and Rapunzel and sighed wistfully that they wished they could have hair like this. Sometimes they would run their fingers through it and say just how much they’d love to play with it; they’d say I was just like a real life Barbie doll, and how much fun must it be. 

By the time I was six, my hair was butt-length and still baby-fine. It was the color of fine gold chain and just as prone to tangling. Five minutes in the wind and it would be an unbearable snarl that would take hours to uncomb. 

We kept it braided most of the time, because there was no other way to tame it. Every morning my mother would unbraid my hair, and brush it, and it would be free for just a few minutes before going back into a braid. Curls always worked their way free of the braid, leaving a halo of frizz. 

On fancy occasions, we would braid it into a dozen cornrows that fell to the middle of my back and swung like a cat-o-nine-tails. I felt like Medusa, imagining the coils of snakes, and felt empowered and curiously afraid of myself. 

~*~ 

"I hope you’re not tender-headed,” they would say, and I would grimace and brace myself because it would not matter if I was. 

My mother would take me to salons sometimes. More strangers touching my hair, fussing over me, wielding combs and sprays and blow-dryers. All of them wanted to play with my hair. None of them knew quite how to handle it. Little blonde girls with curly hair to their knees, fine but dense, so thick that things could be taken up into it and consumed -- they thought they were prepared, but they never were. 

I never got a haircut. It would have been such a shame to cut such beautiful long hair. But a few times a year, we would book me for a shampoo and style, and they would detangle my hair. It would take three stylists. It would take three hours. 

By the end, it felt as though my scalp were bleeding. But I dared not say anything, because I understood that being tender-headed was a character flaw that i could not afford with the type of hair I had. 

~*~ 

My hair did not belong to me. 

It belonged to the stylists, who would loom close in my personal space and come up with ideas and suggestions. No one asked what I wanted, and I would not have known what to tell them even if they had because I had never had the opportunity to form those opinions. 

“It’s so long and curly and blonde!” Was the delighted, surprised refrain. “Let’s straighten it, and cut it, and what if we dyed it?” 

My hair belonged, too, to my mother, who spent so many hours with it, and grew so impatient with me when it would not behave. A day or two of neglect would lead to the creation of terrible, golf-ball-sized mats and snarls of hair. It would take hours to work through them. 

It got tangled from a swimming pool once, leading to hours of painful pulling and tugging and frustration. We were staying in a motel in another city where my father was traveling for work. There was a Toys R Us, and they’d promised I could go and pick something out for myself after we were finished making me look presentable. 

I snuck away to the bathroom and found scissors and cut away at a little bit of the impenetrable snarl of hair. I thought maybe if I just cut a little bit of it, the rest would come loose and the tangle would fall out and we could finally be done with it and I could get the toy I wanted. 

“You cut your hair!” My mother sounded horrified and accusatory. I had betrayed her deeply, done a thing that was unforgivable. We did not go to Toys R Us. I was grounded. I never cut my hair again. 

I was eight years old. 

~*~

I did cut my hair once before that. My mother always cut her bangs straight across her forehead, a classic look for the sort of long, gently wavy dark hair she wore. 

At three years old, I tried to do the same. I grabbed a fistful of hair and chopped. My hair curled and coiled like the top-knot of a poodle dog. 

My childhood photos are all of a chubby blonde wild child, hair in a messy unkempt braid, a mess of frizz sticking straight up at the top. 

My mother kept cutting my bangs that way for the next eight years as an implicit punishment for my transgression. Even now she tells me: “You did it to yourself.”

~*~ 

“If you ever cut your hair,” my mother told me once, when I was in college, “I’d want you to have it braided and cut off the whole braid and give it to me to keep. Then you could style the rest however you thought you wanted.” 

~*~ 

I grew up with a certain paranoia about something happening to my hair. I was admonished never to fall asleep while chewing gum or candy, lest it fall and tangle my hair (never mind the choking risk, that was not important). I was made paranoid about the prospect of boys behind me putting things in my hair or cutting it with scissors if I sat at a desk. This never happened, but I was warned against it many times. 

When I went to sleep-overs, my parents advised me to sleep with my braid pulled around to the side, to hold it like a teddy bear, so that no one would cut it in my sleep like in the Bible story about Samson and his beautiful long hair. 

~*~ 

By the end of high school, I had disengaged from my hair. 

It was no longer a part of me, or a thing that belonged to me. I shared a body with it, but I knew better than to touch it. There were rules in my house regarding my appearance and what I was and was not allowed to do with my body. I could not cut or dye my hair. I could not wear makeup. I could not paint my nails. I could not wear revealing clothing. I could not read Seventeen magazine. I could not perform femininity. 

I did not bother with trying to rebel against these limitations. I surrendered to them whole-heartedly. I wore jeans and shapeless t-shirts and tied my hair back in a ponytail and pretended it was not there until it grew so matted that I had to spend a day detangling it, and then the cycle would resume. 

Strangers stopped commenting on it. People stopped asking to touch it. 

~*~ 

In every photograph from my twenties, you cannot see my hair. 

A terrible irony: All your life, your most iconic asset becomes the one thing that no one ever sees. My hair itself had become like Rapunzel, locked away, too powerful to set loose. 

Every so often, I would let it down. Hours of preparation would go into it. It would look nice in photographs for an evening, and then it would return to its captivity. My hair was a wild animal that could not be trusted to run loose. 

~*~

In the shower, my hair becomes like razor wire, hard and sharp. I have scars on my fingers where the strands dig in, slicing down into the meat as I try to work out the knots and tangles. 

~*~ 

There is a difference between knowing what to do, and being able to do it. 

People will try to give you help, as if advice were the thing you were missing -- as if it were knowledge, and not ability, holding you back. It’s always well-meaning. It’s rarely helpful. 

Stop using shampoo. Stop using a brush. Use a comb. Blow it straight. Use a flattening iron. Detangle it wet. Only comb it when it’s dry. Use mousse. Use vinegar. Use coconut oil. Use this brand of shampoo. Conditioner, conditioner, conditioner. 

But you know. That’s the thing that no one ever realizes. Of course you know, because you have lived with this thing for all your life. 

The reason for your unhappiness is not, and has never been, because you don’t know what you’re doing. 

~*~ 

“I think I’m going to cut my hair.” 

I proposed the thought nervously, anxiously, the way you might confess to a crime that has been weighing heavily on your conscience. I had been up late the night before, imagining what it might be like, searching for images on my phone under the blankets in the 2-am darkness. 

“How short?” My husband asked, with signs of trepidation. 

I started to cry. And then I started to yell. I half-screamed, half-sobbed at him about hairdressers and a lifetime of baggage and fear and shame and bodily autonomy. 

And he held me and petted me and said, “Don’t worry about this. I’ll make the appointment. You can do whatever you want with it. I support you.”

I apologized for crying and he held me tighter and gently scoffed, almost incredulous. 

“Baby. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to feel things.” 

~*~ 

We went to Supercuts. 

It’s not a fancy salon, but I didn’t want a fancy salon. I did not want to be fussed over. That kind of pampering, invasive attention would send me running. 

I waited for my walk-in. I did not throw up. My stomach rolled around in my gut and I thought I might start crying again, but I didn’t. I read a Joe Hill novel in the waiting room, and again under the dryer while a heat treatment worked whatever detangling black magic it was supposed to do. 

My husband (ever the gossip) prepped his hairdresser for me. He warned her that I had a lot of baggage about getting my hair done. She didn’t understand, not really, but I don’t think maybe anyone could. But she got the gist of it. She knew well enough to leave me mostly alone.

I showed her pictures of what I wanted. She did it, with minimal fuss, and minimal commentary, and at the end I saw myself in the mirror and all she said was, “That looks beautiful! Do you feel better now?” 

I did. And I do. 

BEFORE: 

AFTER: 

#true story #personal #selfie #my hair #changes #my writing #long post

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter Eleven: See The Light

Chapter Log!

After some time, Michelle and I managed to let our sobs subside and detangled ourselves from the other's arms. But Michelle was quick to slap her hands to my cheeks, her eyes running over what was left to see of my now squished face. Investigating it closely. So close, I could have sworn to you she'd been counting every pore and freckle on the skin. "Well look at you," She smiled widely, slowly lightening her grip and letting my face start to reshape, "I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays!" I smiled back at her, laughing softly as I searched all the new records in my brain to remember I in fact hadn't seen her since winter break. "I'd been wondering how long I'd have to wait for you to find your way back here." Her hands finally dropped and she took a step back, her smile never budging an inch. "Well here I am!"

"There you are..." She breathed, suddenly pulling me into yet another tight hug. Huffing a hefty sigh as she did and burrowed her small head into my shoulder. "Lord only knows how happy I am that you're back." Smiling still, I returned her hug knowing exactly what she'd meant by that. And we stood there like that for a moment in a tearless embrace. Michelle thanking God I'd somehow remembered her. And me just basking in the same thing. Feeling more than grateful that somehow, someway I now had someone I truly knew to talk about everything to. Someone I remembered to help me navigate all that I didn't just a little bit better. That hug didn't last nearly as long as the last, and soon she was pulling us apart and taking a hold of my hand. "C'mon, I have something I've been waiting to give you!" She excitedly explained. Damn nearly pulling my arm clean out of its socket as she all but ran to the back of the shop. I'd always thought I was short in comparison to my father and Alex, and well everyone else in my other memories. But even at my short stature, I still had her beat by an inch or so. But that sure as Hell didn’t stop her from pumping those stumpy legs. Like she was Usain Bolt and the door she swiftly pulled us up to was the finish line in the Olympics'100-meter relay. The sign on the door read 'Authorized Personnel ONLY', and I guess that Michelle fell under that category now as she pushed it open with ease and uncovered the strangest yet most perfect little break room I'd ever seen. Once she'd dropped her death grip on my now probably broken hand, I followed in after her slowly and took in the room in its entirety. There was a small, paint smeared and wood chipped table off to the side, a single chair pulled up to it. It was pretty much empty spare a few napkins, a large, gaudy, borderline out of date boom box, and a small microwave. Diagonal from it in the corner were two oversized bean bag chairs that looked like they'd been used as punching bags for Rocky at some point or another. But by far the most impressive part of that oversized storage closet were its walls. Every inch covered from floor to ceiling and wall to wall in a wide range of posters, photographs, and record casings. There were band posters, album art, and torn off covers of Rolling Stone magazines. There were photos of Micah and Michelle at varying ages plastered everywhere. Photos of bands that had rolled through town, or those surrounding. Even photos of the Michelle and I, and the guys. Some were normal, and some were of Jack, Alex, Zack, and a third boy I assumed to be Rian playing all together. A full-blown band. I wandered around the room with wide eyes all while Michelle fumbled around in search for something. Taking the moment to soak it all in, even spotting a small polaroid photo of me. I was smiling widely, clearly laughing whilst holding a crumpled piece of paper that read 'EmpLoyEE of the mONth' in purple crayon. And I laughed softly, remembering Michelle doing that on the one-month anniversary of me working at that very store with her our Junior year in high school. "There you are, you little fucker." Michelle groveled under her breath making me laugh. I turned around to see her just barely miss smashing her head on the table's edge as she rose to her feet, tiny blue plastic bag in hand. "Only took a million and a half years to find it!" I furrowed my brow, propped myself up against a wall and watched. Giggling quietly at my friend as she tore the bag away its confines and was quick to rip the plastic film off a brand-new CD. "What are you doing?" I finally asked in an overly amused voice as she haphazardly tossed the scraps over her shoulder and popped the freed disc into the boombox. "Just being the coolest friend ever." She mocked me, turning around with a roll of her eyes and tossing the now empty CD case through the air. "Consider it a belated birthday gift, or very belated depending on which birthday you celebrated this year." I let out a bellowing laugh once I'd managed to catch it, only fumbling it in my fingers for a second. A questioning, yet still amused look in my eyes as I turned the disk over and tore my eyes from Michelle's to look down. My baby blues instantly tripled in size at the sight of what I was now holding in my hands. The black faded halo, the burnt orange bricks, the black, white and yellow spray-painted art. All physical attributes used to describe Green Day's, 21st Century Breakdown. My eyes were the size of moons when I looked back to her. My jaw slack, but my smile wide. "I've been waiting for this since they announced recording it in October!" I practically squealed. And she matched my excitement perfectly. "How do you have this?" I questioned, running the few feet over to her, "I don't even remember this being released!" I could see a flash of something in her eyes when I'd said that. But she quickly covered it up with a casual smirk and shrug. "We got right on the order and stalked up the second it came out, I've been holding onto this copy for about a week now for you." "Oh my God, thank you!" I yelled, wrapping my arms around her neck in the tightest hug I could muster. "Alright, alright I know," She coughed, pushing me off, or at least attempting to. "I'm the greatest best friend in all of existence but get off me so I can play it!" "Say less!" I huffed, pulling myself off her in an instant and allowing her to turn around and press play. As the first track began to spin, I returned to my place by the wall, leaning into it and scanning the back of the CD case. Taking in each and every one of the eighteen song titles. And Michelle pressed herself up onto the break table, swinging her legs ever so slightly as she watched me. For a while we just sat in silence listening to the music and taking it in. But it was hard for me to ignore the way her eyes were burning two little holes in my skull once I'd finished listing the tracks in my head. I knew she must have had a million and one questions, there was something about the way she'd been looking at me before. So shocked, and yet so happy. She must have been just as surprised as I'd been at the fact that I so quickly remembered who she was. And I'm certain she had a laundry list of things she wanted to ask me. About the incident, about what I'd remembered so far, probably even what I'd specifically remembered about her. But if I'm to be honest, it was nice for once to not have to think so hard about what had been going on in my life the past two weeks. Just being able to sit in a room with someone I knew everything about was all I ever wanted and felt just as good as I'd hoped. That is sparing the small hints of guilt I'd begun to feel about not remembering anyone else. But I didn’t want to talk quite yet. So, I held off, never meeting her stare and instead began to wander aimlessly around the room in circles, taking in everything that was stuck to the walls. Feeling memories tug at my mind just out of reach when I saw certain things. Letting my hands graze the scattered collection of posters and photographs, I stopped at one that caught my eye. Leaning in to get a closer look with squinted eyes. The poor-quality photo captured an image of Alex that had something tugging just a bit harder than before in the back of my brain. Standing in a dark room with broken ceiling panels. He had a pink electric guitar slung over his shoulder and a white bandana wrapped around his visibly sweat slicked hair. Even through the grain I could easily see the expression on his face as he hung his jaw wide and was singing into a microphone, thick vein bulging down the length of his neck clear as day. They were probably playing some form of a show. Zack could be seen ever so slightly behind him, the only thing keeping the shorter boy from fading into the darkness of the photograph was the bright red t-shirt stuck to his chest. "How much do you remember of him?" Michelle suddenly asked from behind me when she noticed me staring. Careful tone to her words. "Not as much as I'd like to." I admitted, dropping my hand and head in synchronization before turning around to see her staring up at me. A somber look to her pressed smile. "He's been keeping us all in the loop, you know." She told me, still swinging her legs. Eyes never leaving me as I made my way over and flopped down into one of the worn bean bag chairs. "Ever since you'd shown up at his house." "All good things, I hope?" I inquired. She nodded and I did too, biting down gently on my lip. "He said you're doing a lot better the past few days, that you remember more than you think." "I doubt that!" I scoffed, shaking my head and letting my eyes fall to my swaying knees. "Don't doubt Alex." She practically warned me, though with a playful twang. "He's known you better than you've known yourself since ninth grade. It's just a much easier competition for him in the time being." "Well, that's one wat to put it." I laughed half-heartedly. But only for a moment before a frown formed between my cheeks. "It kills me you know, not remembering any of them. Not remembering my dad, or my best friends." "Well you seem to remember me just fine!" She pointed out. Clearly searching under rocks for a silver lining to show me. Only finding rattle snakes hidden away. "Yeah, well you're actually the only person I really remember." I bitterly admitted. "And even that is a new discovery." "Oh, boo who!" She whined, and my attention instantly snapped up in time to see her rolling her big doll eyes at me. "Dee, do me a solid and tell the negative committee that meets in your brain to sit down and shut the Hell up!" "Excuse me?" I practically choked on my shocked excuse for a laugh. "You heard me." She said, narrowing her eyes. "This whole negative nelly, woe is me crap isn't you! You were bright and bubbly ten minutes ago until I asked about your progress. Look on the bright side!" I couldn’t even begin to help the way my eyes rolled at that. "Where is the bright side to forgetting your entire life." "How about getting a chance to remember it again." She said. And I looked to her again at the sound of her hardened words, only to see a cold glare looking right back at me. Things seeming to make a fast and drastic turn in a whole new direction. "Look Dee, something terrible happened to you. Probably the worst thing that can happen to a person. But in the bigger picture of things you got lucky!" "How?" I genuinely asked now, not as sarcastic as before. More curious per say as to where she was going with all this. She sighed and shook her head. "You were in a car full of people that played chicken with a tree and lost miserably. Not a single one of you walked away with just bumps and bruises. So, all things considered, if I were you, I'd start to just be grateful you walked away at all instead of focusing on smaller things." "I am grateful!" I quickly defended. "I know you are deep down..." She said, "But you're letting your memory cloud that. You're so focused on the fact that you can't remember that you're forgetting to count the biggest blessing of being able to remember anything at all." I bit my lip and looked away from her for a moment. My hand subconsciously running its way up to the back of my head where a line of small scabbed staples sat hidden beneath my hair. One of the last remaining bits of physical evidence. All that time at home I’d been trying my hardest to remember my life and think as little as possible about how I’d lost the ability to do so. I didn’t remember the crash. All I knew about it was what I'd seen on the news before the nurses would turn it off. And the few conclusions I'd drawn from the doctors questioning me. The biggest thing I had been blocking from my thoughts, now with Michelle's words in my head seemed like the biggest thing I should have been focusing on all along. That not everyone survived that night. And I was one of the four lucky ones who did. "Your memory will come back to you." Michelle whispered, pulling me from my thoughts. "And we are all going to be here until you do, helping where we can." I looked up to see her slowly sliding off the table she'd been sat on our whole exchange. Letting me nod before she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up into another tight hug. "You know I would never be hard on you unless you really needed a kick in the pants." She muttered as I wrapped my arms around her and took a deep breath. "But Dee, you just have to remember, you are here, you are alive, and you are slowly remembering things." "Thank you." I whispered, holding her closer. "I love you Tweedle Dee, you stupid stubborn bitch." She laughed, "Just, stop being so hard on yourself." "I love you too JuJuBee." I whispered back to her, closing my eyes to conceal the tears that were slowly beginning to form. "I'll try my hardest to remember that."

#atl #all time low #alltimelow #all time low fanfiction #all time low fan fiction #all time low imagine #Alex Gaskarth #Jalex #alex gaskarth fanfiction #alex gaskarth fan fiction #alex gaskarth imagine #alex gaskarth oc #jack baraket #jack barakat fanfiction #jack barakat imagine #jack barakat fan fiction #Rian Dawson #Rian Dawson imagine #rian dawson fanfiction #rian dawson fan fiction #Zack Merrick #zack merrick fanfiction #zack merrick imagine #zack merrick fan fiction #bands #band fanfiction #band fan fiction #band imagine #band imagines #imagine request

[rachelvalente]

15 Beauty Buys I’m Loving Now

Along with several other personal objectives I set for myself at the beginning of the year, I also made some beauty-related goals – I know that sounds strange, but hear me out!  I feel like I was getting pretty lazy with my skincare and haircare routines towards the last half of the year.  Some of that just meant that I got stuck in a rut of always doing/using the same things and, honestly, a lot of it was just a function of my schedule being too busy.

So I’ve resolved to take better care of the tools I have, purchase new items for those that need to be replaced and find new products that will best serve my particular beauty needs.  As part of my mission, I’ve been buying & testing quite a few things and wanted to share the best of the best with you today!

Makeup Brush Shampoo This is one area where I am committed to making a change – it’s slightly embarrassing how infrequently I was washing my brushes and, once I started doing it more regularly, I immediately noticed a difference in how much better my brushes perform.  This cleanser is by far my favorite – it gets my brushes looking brand new & the formula doesn’t irritate my sensitive skin (plus, it’s super-affordable!).

Makeup Remover Cloth I’m not a big fan of cleansing wipes because my skin never feels that great after using them – and, did you know, wipes are the third most wasteful product in the world?  This reusable cloth is the perfect solution because it removes even the most stubborn makeup with just warm water (waterproof mascara included!) and you can toss it in the wash afterwards.  More colors & sizes available here.

Detangling Hair Brush To be fair, I originally purchased this for my daughter because she has such a hard time getting the tangles out of her coarse, wavy hair.  But, when we were in Oregon over Christmas break, I realized I forgot to pack my brush, so I borrowed hers and didn’t want to give it back!  I was amazed by how well this worked – it detangled my wet hair without pulling and, when I used it on my dry strands, I felt like it created less static than the brush I was previously using.

Air Drying Hair Balm At my last hair appointment, my stylist mentioned that I had a lot of breakage & she suggested that I try to minimize using hot tools as much as possible.  So, I’ve been trying to let my hair air dry & embrace my natural waves whenever I can.  This leave-in creme has been a lifesaver in helping me achieve defined curls without the frizz.  I rub it through my strands and then take 1-inch sections of hair & wrap them around my finger, creating a ringlet.  Once my hair is completely dry, I separate the curls & finish with this texturizing spray.

Satin Pillowcase My husband bought me a this silk pillowcase a couple of years ago and I’ve been a huge fan ever since.  Even though it’s amazing for your hair & skin, it is quite pricey, so I was happy to find this more affordable option.  I actually might even like this one better because the material isn’t quite as thin (also, with it being satin, it’s a vegan-friendly alternative to silk).

Fask Mask Applicator I will never apply a face mask with my fingers again!  This handy tool has a flexible silicone applicator that is perfect for masks, body butters & hair removal creams.  I feel like less product goes to waste because I’m not getting it all over my hands and then having to rinse off – plus, they’re much easier to clean than a brush!

Firming Eye Patches There’s nothing worse than eye patches that slowly slide down your face after you’ve applied them.  These are hands-down the best drugstore eye patches I’ve tried – not only do they actually stay put, but the paraben-free formula is super-hydrating & was gentle enough for my sensitive skin.  I keep mine in the fridge for an instant cooling & de-puffing effect.

Dry Conditioner This is one of those products I didn’t think I needed until I started using it & realized what a HUGE difference it makes.  When I’m trying to extend the time between washing my hair, I often use dry shampoo, but the problem I have (particularly in the winter) is that the ends of my hair look dry & straw-like.  So I started applying my favorite dry shampoo at my roots to absorb any excess oil and then spraying this dry conditioner from mid-shaft to my ends.  I’ve found it to be the perfect combination to keep my hair looking fresh while still feeling soft & looking healthy.

Facial Dermaroller If you’re not familiar with dermarolling, it’s basically a form of micro-needling, where this roller tool creates tiny pricks in your skin to activate your body’s healing response and stimulate collagen.  I’ve been doing this for the last 2 years and have seen such great results.  However, my tool was needing to be replaced so I picked up this one on a recent Target run.  If you’re new to this technique, make sure you wash your face before using & soak your roller in an alcohol-based soak once a week.

Anti-Aging Night Cream I received a sample of this in the mail a couple weeks ago and have been testing it out ever since.  I really love the thick, velvety texture and I’ve noticed my skin is much softer & more dewy since I’ve been using it – which is really saying something because normally I’m so dry & flaky this time of year!  Needless to say, I’ll be buying another jar once my sample runs out.  I’ve been applying this cream after my dermarolling process at night, which really helps the formula sink into the skin deeply for maximum benefit.

Plant-Based Nail Polish As soon as I heard about this new vegan, 16-free polish, I quickly jumped online to order some & I used the in-store pickup option so I could test them out immediately.  I painted my nails on Saturday and I’m happy to report that they still look just as fresh with no chips 5 days later!  The colors I bought: Raw Cocoa, Pink Cardamom & Pomegranate Punch.  I haven’t tried them yet, but there’s also a nail strengthener & top coat in this line too.

Cuticle Balm As most of you know, I can be a little perfectionistic when it comes to my nails – I’m pretty obsessive about keeping them filed & painted and I always carry a little nail kit with me (which includes a file, nail glue, clear polish & cuticle oil).  When I was traveling last month, the cap to my oil came loose and went all over my carry-on bag, which was a nightmare to clean up.  Thankfully, I found this replacement for on-the-go cuticle care, which is much less messy but just as effective.

Leakproof Clear Pouch After the aforementioned airport fiasco with my bag, I decided it was time to invest in a few more clear pouches for storing things in when I travel.  This bag is TSA-approved & has an airtight seal so you can use it for snacks, toiletries or beauty products.  It’s also easy to clean so you can reuse it over and over again – no more spills for me!

Undereye Corrector If you’re like me, the battle to cover your dark circles seems never-ending.  I’ve been using the same concealer for the last few years and, all of a sudden (thanks to my aging skin), it just isn’t cutting it anymore.  I bought this concealer to try after a beauty blogger I follow shared it in a tutorial and I’m really loving it.  I use the shade Blue Corrector 1, which helps to neutralize & color correct my undereye area and then I set it with my favorite brightening powder.  It’s not cheap, but I’m willing to pay just about anything to look less tired each day!  Note: it has a slightly less creamy consistency than liquid concealers, so be sure to use eye cream first before applying.

Coconut Gel Sheet Mask Part of my new skincare routine that I’ve begun this year is to do a mask every Sunday.  I stocked up on a bunch during the Sephora VIB Sale that happened at the beginning of December.  I’ve been rotating through a few different ones based on what I feel my skin needs, but I keep going back to this one because it’s so hydrating (there’s also a brightening version here that I’m anxious to try).  Other honorable mentions include this pore-minimizing mask and this dewy skin mask.

The post 15 Beauty Buys I’m Loving Now appeared first on Penny Pincher Fashion.

15 Beauty Buys I’m Loving Now published first on https://skinalleyupdates.tumblr.com/

[justmyinkblot]

I decided to start the Maximum Hydration Method on a Friday to avoid having to worry about dropping my daughter off at school with a shower cap on. It was a LOT of work. I have pretty strict Monday-Friday rules for myself. I write a scene a day up front, and then I use whatever time I have until school pick-up for errands, or chores. I made sure I ran through my own usual process so I could fairly assess the before and after. I had an hour and half to gather all the ingredients, which included things that sounded hard to find like,  Bentonite clay, and liquid aminos. Between Whole Foods and Harmon, I found every single thing at a $50 price tag when all was said and done. Well, I did flub a bit on the applicator bottles. Why did I think 4 oz travel bottles would work? Probably because I was rushing. If I had to do it again, I would have prepped by hanging onto empty conditioner/shampoo bottles. Luckily I did have a couple hanging about, and the applicator tips from my too-small bottles fit them. I could have saved about $10 by planning ahead.

Once all the ingredients were procured, and the kids were back home doing homework, I got to work.

MHM Step One: Detangle and Cherry Lola

The Cherry Lola Treatment is a strictly Day One product. Once the 7 day cycle is complete you’re free to repeat it as often as every two weeks. I used half of the recommended baking soda, because this is an intended abrasive, and other curly girls have reported a potential disruption of curl. I also added an entire TBSP of avocado, because I didn’t have a 3/4 TBSP and I figured it couldn’t hurt. Oh, yeah, and I got to eat the rest of the avocado! Bonus yum! In my house bananas don’t last long enough to become overripe, so, at the suggestion of one of my friends, I baked a plantain in the toaster oven at 300 for 30 minutes. It worked to achieve the consistency the Cherry Lola Treatment requires, but I can tell you, after frying up the other half, it wasn’t sweet. Still, a couple slices double fried made excellent tostones! Bonus yum 2!!

My favorite part was detangling my hair. I never do this on dry hair, because it stretches my curl straight. Not completely straight. It’s about as straight as you can get a sheet of paper after you’ve crumpled it into a small ball. No matter how hard you push or press, without heat, it will always have creases. The same holds true for my hair getting detangled by a comb. It was like watching the balloons inflate for The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The circumference of my hair was stupendous. I couldn’t help but to take a selfie break. This needed to be documented. I should also mention, seeing the magnitude of my mane was a bucket lister for my husband. Bonus Dreams Coming True!

I combined the ingredients easily into the Ninja Blender Large Carafe until it looked like a kale smoothie. I didn’t bother trying to pour it into an applicator bottle. Instead I took the pitcher into the bathroom, and scooped it out as I saturated my hair with it. Definitely messy!! Be prepared to clean the tub afterwards.

The first thing I’ll say is that my hair did NOT like this combination of being detangled, and then coated with goop. Some of it started to frizz rebelliously, and it felt like it would never feel completely wet. I just kept applying it root to tip until it was all one big mass that I could wind into a bun on the top of my head. I covered it with saran wrap, and used a bandana to cover the edges.

     I stored the rest in a mason jar in the fridge. I think I have enough left for two more applications, but I’m not really sure how long this kind of mixture can be stored.

     Meanwhile, I prepared and bottled the rest of the rinses. I decided that I’d alternate ACV rinses and the option 2 baking soda rinse. Both were easy to prep. I used an old leave-in conditioner bottle to store the option 2 baking soda rinse, and still had about 4 ounces left over. Well, well, well, travel-sized bottle. One of you has served a purpose. The ACV rinse is all liquid, so I stored it in a 6 oz bottle I found, which an applicator tip fit on perfectly. *Note* Since writing this I have already completed some of the MHM cycle, and have since learned that the best practice for this rinse is a spray bottle.

     The clay rinse is slightly more complicated. If I’d bothered to read the directions more clearly, I would have seen the recommendation was to use an old 32 oz shampoo/conditioner bottle. It wouldn’t have mattered, because I didn’t have one of those, but I feel like I would’ve tried harder to source one. I mixed the conception in an old ricotta cheese container. It’s supposed to be a liquid consistency, but I left it a little gloppy. I figured I’d have to add water to it when I used it the next day, and would handle it in the moment.

This clay rinse is too thick to be used as-is, but I can add water when I need it.

     Once all the products were prepped and bottled, I took some time to clean up. Then I cooked dinner.

     It was over two hours later when I washed it off in the shower.

MHM Step Two: Deep Condition

     The MHM Method offers you a few options here, all of which involve 2-3 ounces of conditioner mixed with 4-6 ounces of water in an applicator bottle. The difference in the options has to do with length of time to keep the conditioner in, and the temperature of the conditioner you use.

Option 1 is to apply the conditioner mixed with temperate water, to your soaking wet hair, and leave it in overnight under a shower cap.

Option 2 is to apply the conditioner mixed with warm water (or tea), and then sit under a steamer hood (if you have one) for 15 minutes.

Option 3 is the same as option 2, just without the steamer hood, under a shower cap for 15 minutes. Alternatively, you can sit in a hot shower and let that function as a heat source, but that may be a big wasteful for some folks.

     I picked option 1 for Day One, just to give my hair the extra oomph. I mixed 4 ounces of water with 2 ounces of conditioner in an applicator bottle, and applied that to my still soaking wet hair after I’d turned the water off. I tried the saran wrap and bandana method, but it didn’t hold up to couch cuddling with my honey. I swapped it for my go-to overnight hair wrap from back when I was plopping my curls on the reg— the Curly Hair Tee. The recommendation is to seal in the heat with some kind of plastic shower cap, I think, but I couldn’t deal with it overnight.

     Remember how I told you in the last post, how I chose the FaceValues Tea Tree Oil Conditioner? Before you run out and purchase it, let me first warn you that the ingredients DO include Tee Tree Oil and spearmint. Either of these ingredients will make your scalp tingle, but the combination is pretty intense. Personally, I didn’t find it to be horrible. In fact, since it’s allergy season, the aromas actually helped keep my sinuses clear, which I found to be a major plus. I could see others, particularly those with low pain tolerance, or sensitive scalps, being really uncomfortable with it. My husband did his best to tolerate my minty-fresh scent, but I know it wasn’t the most fun for him either.

     Going to bed was NOT the end of Day One.

     In the morning I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair. I’d read that the best method was to pour water over your hair with a pitcher. I tried it, and found that my hair was incredibly soft and easy to detangle with my fingers BUT I ended up using my detachable shower head to make sure it was all out of my hair. Either way, my back was very unhappy afterwards. Bending over for long periods of time stinks. Don’t forget to stretch!

MHM Step Three: Clay Rinse

     I admit, this time I was also not paying much attention to the rules. Instead of thinning out the goopy clay mixture, I used the same scoop and saturate method I’d used with the Cherry Lola Treatment. Again, very messy. I vowed not to do that again, as I washed the tub after application. This was another back breaker too. the recommendation was to NOT pull it into a huge mass, but I didn’t listen to that either. It was so messy I couldn’t imagine being able to apply this AND try to coil it. A better solution was required. Either way I wrapped it into a shower cap and left it for 30 minutes, but 15 minutes is the minimum.

     I rinsed this off in the shower. It was a little unnerving because my hair was so clean it was actually squeaky! I confess that I never let my hair feel like that, because it feels like it would get too dry, and then too frizzy. The other thing was how easy it was to detangle with my fingers. The squeaky feeling usually comes with extra tangly coils, but this was the exact opposite. Everything felt soft and clean. While I was still in the shower I separated and clipped my hair, starting from the nape of my neck, in sections. Part of my goal is to reshape the way my curls fall, so I could get rid of the part in my hair, so I chose to define these sections as Bottom Layer, left and right; left side; right side; crown, left and right; front of head.

MHM Step Four & Five Leave-in & Curl Define

     This part is kind of tricky, because the mirrors are so steamy after a shower. Letting the hair clips full of hair drip, I toweled dry and got dressed, and opened the door to let the steam clear. This step is to apply your MHM approved Leave-in conditioner, and then your curl definer (whether it’s a gel or a cream) section by section. Do not apply the leave-in to your whole head, and then do the definer. I did this bent over for the two bottom sections, and the side sections. The crown section and the front of my head section I did while standing straight up (my back was killing me.

     Let it dry. Don’t touch!

     Letting it dry without touching it was so hard. I was dying to see the results! For one, the curls had started forming much closer to the root, and they were spiraling fully! I think I may have used more curl definer than I needed to out of habit, which is something I’ll need to work on. I think it would have been even softer to the touch had I toned it down. Even so, Day One of MHM gave me my one of the best hair days of the entire year. The weather was good for it too, no humidity or excessive heat. My husband said it looked like I’d come home from Ouidad, which is high praise. If this is it what Day One does, I can only imagine how this will look by Day Seven!!! What do you think?

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In my next post I’ll take you through Day Two, the pitfalls and the successes, and we can both see what if there are any curl gains to be won!

The one where I tell all about Day 1 of the #MHM 7 Day Challenge, and share the most embarrassing photos of myself on the web #naturalcurls I decided to start the Maximum Hydration Method on a Friday to avoid having to worry about dropping my daughter off at school with a shower cap on.

#curl tips #MHM