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reinacrbers · 1 year

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7 Flawless Short Hairstyles for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

7 Flawless Short Hairstyles for Black Women 2022 Home&Women #short #tenuedujour #jean #hairstyles #hairfashion #hairdo #hairoftheday #instahair #hairofinstagram #haircolor #hairdye #haircolour #hairideas #coolhair #braid #haircut #hairstyle #curly #longhair #perfectcurls #straighthair #hairstylist #straight #braidideas #brown #hairvideos #longhairdontcare #hairvideo #hairtutorial…

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 8 months

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One of the many things I love about YOI is how it ignores gender norms. Like Viktor wearing androgynous costumes as a junior because it matched his looks? Lovely. Yuuri learning how to dance like a woman as he explores Eros? Great! Let this boy do whatever he needs to find his unique Eros expression. Mila practising lifts on Yurio? Please give me more.

None of these form a pattern that indicates anything about these characters' gender or, more generally their queerness (spoiler: these could apply to a number of labels or to none; gender is a societal construct and the reasons to not want to conform to it are various), the show is that vague and it seems a deliberate choice. Viktor eventually changed his style and image. Yuuri finds his unique, masculine expression of Eros in episode 6 when he seduces Viktor with his own charms (as conveyed through the use of the masculine pronoun "boku"). These characters live in a world where gender norms don't matter and where everyone can express themselves and explore certain aspects of their personality without anyone telling them that it's not "appropriate" for their gender.

And you can spin this further in your personal headcanon. If Viktor wants to wear a women's yukata because he loves the flower print, he can do that. If Yuuri wants to do ballet in pointé shoes because it challenges his sense of balance, no one can stop him. (In my fics, Viktor wears such shoes for that purpose and because he loves the laces.) If Chris wants to wear an evening gown and high heels because he loves how it emphasises his thighs and his bum, he can just go for it. If Yurio wants to wear a mini-skirt to ripped jeans, no one will bully him for it. If Mila wants to skate in black skates because it matches the colour of her costumes better than white skates, no one would care (same goes for white skates for any of the male characters). If Phichit wants to wear make-up, no one would give him strange looks.

The beauty of Yuri on Ice is that the characters are free to do these things without having to fear judgement or repercussions. They are free to choose how they want to express themselves, be it for image reasons, because of a character they portray in their figure skating routines, because it ties into a certain aspect of their queerness, or because they just prefer this over a traditional expression. In the world of YOI, it just doesn't matter. I would love to live in that world.

Edit: I wrote a meta analysis about Yuuri's exploration of Eros throughout the show that discusses things like the pronouns etc. in more detail here.

(You might notice that I don't count hair length as gender norm because for many people it's a stylistic choice. I'm thinking of all the metalheads and women with pixie haircuts, which have been normalised in most societies I know of.)

#yuri on ice #yoi #gender norms #anime #queer labels #lgbtq

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shybunnie20 · 10 months

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Bearded Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

★Invitation ★My Masterlist

Summary: After nine years of living separate lives and carrying the weight of unresolved emotions, destiny intervenes when you and Eddie unexpectedly cross paths at your high school reunion.

Author's Note: I've been working on this since February and I'm so proud of how it turned out.

1994 AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Established past relationship. Reader & Eddie are roughly 28 yrs old. POVs are first told separately, refer to the time stamps! Reader is depicted as introverted but it's a minor detail.

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! Substance consumption, mentions of sex, includes swearing.

You’re not sure why you came here tonight, it’s not like high school was particularly memorable for you. Be that as it may, you’ve been feeling homesick lately and you needed an excuse to be in Hawkins. What better way to satiate a craving for nostalgia than to attend the class of 1984’s ten-year reunion?

As you stride through the double doors and enter the gymnasium, you’re taken aback by how dated it looks. Even though the light fixtures and basketball hoops have been replaced, it looks just as it had when you were here last. Judging by the meticulously buffed floor, it’s evident that the basketball team continues to receive the majority of funding.

The glossy court is dotted with circular folding tables that are draped with forest-green plastic runners. Each table has a bundle of balloons that are secured by gold foil weights. The decorations are fairly tacky but you expected nothing less. On the far end of the gym, the makeshift dance floor in front of the DJ booth lacks participation.

At the welcome table, you use the provided Sharpie to sign a sticky name tag. You blow on the wet ink to expedite the drying time because the last thing that you need is a jet-black stain on your favorite top. It feels silly to be wearing a name tag at a reunion but the harsh reality is that the majority of your graduating class doesn’t know your name; very few bothered to learn it in the first place.

While scanning the sparse crowd, your eyes land on a petite woman who is waving you over. You catch up with Mary, your junior-year lab partner. She introduces you to her husband but you swiftly lose interest in the interaction because they’re droning on about how difficult it’s been to get their son into a good preschool.

You hadn’t anticipated feeling this drained from a single conversation. You politely excuse yourself from the mind-numbing chat and scour the room for an available seat. The one that you choose has three people seated on the opposite side and they eye you while you pull out a chair. They look vaguely familiar so you flash them a polite grin. They resume their discussion without further acknowledgment of your company.

In front of you lies a pamphlet with “Go Tigers!” printed across the front in large block letters. Thumbing through the pages, you glance at the various pictures of high-achieving students who have since created prosperous careers for themselves. You look closely at the photos and then search for the individuals in the room, seeking to compare their old appearances to their present ones. It occurs to you how much beauty and fashion trends have changed in the past decade.

Most of the women here have abandoned their Aqua Net and mousse-finished perms. There are multiple pixie cuts, but what stands out the most are the emulations of the choppy and layered “Rachel haircut” from that new show Friends that your pals force you to watch with them.

You push air through your nose when you get a load of the self-appointed queen bee of your class. She’s wearing a gown that is unquestionably inspired by Princess Diana’s revenge dress. She looks ridiculous compared to the sea of casual attire surrounding her. It doesn’t surprise you though, she came from money and she likely married rich too. If anything, it would be out of character for her to be wearing jeans.

The booklet’s various snapshots make you wonder who achieved their goals or started families. Who peaked in high school and hasn't found any purpose in life? Who’s been arrested or fired from their jobs? As you reach the last page, you’re caught off guard by a large hand being placed on your shoulder. It makes you jump in your seat but when you turn to see who it is, the tension is alleviated from your body.

Scott Daley beams at you with his remarkably pearly whites. The five years of braces paid off and he’s obviously gotten professional whitening done. “Is that who I think it is?” He withdraws his hand from your shoulder and takes a half step back.

You’re enlivened as you get to your feet. “No way!” The hug is brief but not awkward. “How have you been?”

His blonde feathered brows arch gleefully at your reaction. “Not too bad,” Scott motions to the seat beside yours. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course!” After returning to your seat, you take notice of his gel-slicked waves and the ironed Polo shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

Scott angles himself to face you and shamelessly checks you out. “You look phenomenal, truly.”

Warmth spreads across your body because you’re not used to men being so forward with you. Although, this isn’t a stranger. Scott moved into your neighborhood when you were eleven. Your mothers became close friends so naturally you wound up being the best of friends. You didn’t sit next to anyone else on the school bus or at lunch; you were practically attached at the hip.

Scott wasn’t always this handsome. When you met him, he was nerdy and excelled academically. He may have been scrawny but his competitiveness made up for his shortcomings. He was motivated by receiving awards like trophies and plaques. Scott Daley had his eye on the prize, which was attaining a perfect report card and being elected as class president. He had an insatiable hunger for success and that was something you found fascinating.

After you became freshman at Hawkins High, you grew apart. You didn’t have any classes together due to Scott being in advanced courses. As one would expect, you fell into different social groups. Rather, he joined the tennis team and buddied up with the jocks while you faded into the background and kept a low profile. There weren't any hard feelings because you naturally grew apart.

You listen attentively while Scott fills you in on his experiences. He graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame. This isn’t shocking in the slightest, it’s a very prestigious school and he certainly has the brains to thrive in such a setting. He mentions having invested in a starter company that took off and now he gives entrepreneurial seminars around Indiana. Scott also mentions that he’s divorced with no kids.

It’s a relief to hear that the relationship with his high school sweetheart didn’t work out because you’re in the same boat, minus getting married and divorced. You’re glad that you’re not the only one here who’s companionless. It’s embarrassing to attend get-togethers like these as a single person but you’re feeling less insecure now that you know Scott has already had a failed marriage by the age of 28.

When he begins to gab about the parasailing classes he’s been taking, you gradually zone out. You don’t mean to but you can’t listen to the rambling any longer. Even though you’re visibly on another planet, Scott obliviously continues with how great his life has been. You immediately regret glancing away.

Your lungs are packed to the brim with fine sand and your throat fills like the stem of an hourglass. You didn’t anticipate seeing him.

Eddie looks older, even from a distance. The deeply set lines under his eyes make him look tired but the dark scruff brings an enticing liveliness to his fair complexion. His boyish charm is long gone but he’s a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Eddie’s charcoal dress shirt is undone four buttons from the neck, revealing the band tee he’s wearing underneath it. An eyebrow and nose piercing is a tricky look to pull off but it suits him. The array of black tattoos that adorn his veiny forearms is on display from his lazily rolled-up sleeves.

His left arm is slung around the shoulders of a dark-haired woman while he converses with two other people. When Eddie flashes his signature smile, your heart is carved from its rightful place in your chest. You’ve tried so hard to forget how much you missed being the reason he beams; back then, he only smiled like that for you. Up until now, you were fully convinced that you’d gotten over him. Yet, being merely fifteen feet away from Eddie causes bitterness to unearth. The resentment was buried but it never decomposed.

The woman can’t possibly be his wife because you vividly recall that Eddie didn’t subscribe to the concept of marriage. It’s not that he thought there was anything wrong with it per se. In the midst of one of his innumerable non-conformist rants, Eddie expressed that neither a ring nor ceremony is necessary to prove your devotion to someone. He made a good point because signing a certificate doesn’t lower the chances of a devastating breakup. Scott can certainly speak to that.

It wasn’t a big deal to you and if anything, you were indifferent toward his take on the topic. You agreed that vowing fidelity doesn’t have to be lavish and elaborate. But there was a small part of you that imagined a special day where you get to feel like a princess. The desire wasn’t all-consuming and by no means something that you strived for. Even so, it stung to know that wasn’t what your future with Eddie was going to look like. All in all, he wasn’t the marriage type and you accepted that.

A pair of binoculars would be awfully useful to check this lady’s finger for a ring, just to be sure. You’re struggling to put a name to the face. Her hair color is modern but her crunchy roller-curled bangs are a blast from the past. That’s the detail that yields the recollection of her identity.

Karie West. You had classes together but you never saw her and Eddie exchange so much as a glance. She was at the bottom of the upper-crust crowd because her family has run the local hardware store for generations. Not exactly brag-worthy but it made her somebody. Eddie and Karie are an odd pairing but maybe his preferences changed. To be fair, she’s pretty and you don’t recall having an issue with her back in the day. She wasn’t anything to write home about but she was nice enough. The real question is, did he raise his standards or did she lower hers?

Is Eddie sweet to her like he was to you? Do they talk about the future like you and Eddie did? He used to insist that you’d join Corroded Coffin on the road when they inevitably made it big. Over the years, you kept an eye on the tabloids at the supermarket to see if his band made their way onto the front covers.

Initially, you arranged to start your lives together after graduation but the plan was squashed. You walked the stage to get your diploma but Eddie didn’t. You stayed in Hawkins for another year and worked odd jobs while you waited for him to finish school. You sacrificed your personal goals to support him but Eddie didn’t graduate in 1985 either.

When it came down to it, you couldn’t bear to continue setting your aspirations aside when Eddie showed no initiative to pursue his diploma. In due course, a letter came in the mail informing you that you’d been awarded a full-ride scholarship to the university of your dreams.

You and Eddie talked about a community college that was three towns over but that wasn’t what you wanted. You knew you wouldn’t reach your full potential if you went that route. There were a lot of things that you wanted for your future and Eddie was one of them. At the time, you assumed that he would be ecstatic to hear the news regarding the incredible opportunity you’d been presented with.

It was a toasty summer evening. and like most days, you were lounging around and basking in the adoration you had for one another. His heavy-lidded mocha eyes studied your face while you snorted at his jokes. On your twin-size bed, Eddie was laying on his back with you nestled comfortably under his arm. He was sharing the ideas that he had for his next tattoo. You drew the concepts he described onto the velvety skin of his forearm with your fingertip. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed as your featherlight touch painted your interpretations in his mind. At some point, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Upon your return over a minute later, your heart stopped when you saw the cream-colored paper in his grip. “Are you shitting me?” he boomed with a piercing glare. “You’re fucking leaving?” “Hold on, let me explain-” You stepped forward to capture his free hand but he yanked it away before contact could be made. “I don’t see anything that needs explaining.” Eddie’s eyes had never looked more ablaze. “This school is hundreds of miles away. What happened to our plan?” His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as he boomed. “God, all you ever do is think about yourself. What about me, you’re just gonna leave me here?” Your red-rimmed eyes conveyed the harm done by the biting tone of his voice. “Why would you say something like that?” The blood in your veins began to boil and your face became feverish. “You don’t need to get so upset. We’re gonna make it work, we’ll talk on the phone every day and you’ll come to visit me during the holidays.” Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms with no regard for the letter being crumpled under his bicep. “You’ve convinced yourself it’ll be that easy, huh? You’ve lost your mind if you think being this far apart will be a piece of cake.” “I need to take this scholarship,” your eyes welled and your voice began to break. The defensiveness withered away with each word that you spoke. “This is a huge opportunity for me.” “I had no clue that you wanted to get outta here so damn bad.” Eddie’s voice dropped to a growl. “You weren’t even gonna tell me, were you?” You bunched the bottom of your shirt into your fist and squeezed so hard that your knuckle cracked. “I was going to but I was afraid of you reacting like this.” Eddie’s frown deepened. “Y’know what? I’ll make this easy for you then.” He crushed the letter into a ball and dropped it at your feet. “Since you’re doing what’s best for you, I’m gonna do what’s best for us.” Eddie stepped around you and stopped in the doorway. “We’re through. So uh- good luck with everything.”

In 103 seconds, the years you’d spent together were thrown to the wayside. You couldn’t wrap your head around how easily he threw in the towel at the mere proposal of attempting long distance. Apparently, you weren’t worth the trouble.

From thereon out, every waking moment was nothing short of hollow. For a week following the event, you stayed near the phone; but when it rang, it wasn’t him. You half-expected Eddie to show up with a teddy bear or a bouquet but he didn’t. Despite not being the one who ended things, the guilt picked at you like a vulture until your bones were clean. You didn’t mean for him to feel like you were putting your career before him.

Leaving the house was a rare occurrence given that you rarely got out of bed. Taking care of yourself wasn’t a priority. You were either eating too much or too little and the same went for your sleep pattern. Everything was in excess or deficit with no in-between. There were so many tear-soaked tissues on the floor around your bed that it looked like a gathering of white doves surrounding your place of blubbering. It was ironic, really. Doves are often seen as a symbol of tranquility and you felt anything but at peace.

Before then, you thought it was cliché when heartbreak was described as losing a part of yourself but you finally understood. Beneath the layers of blankets, you were splayed out as though your mattress was a sidewalk and you’d just plunged from the top floor of a skyscraper. Miraculously, you were alive but the impact left you broken in every way possible.

There were a few times that you picked up the receiver but you stopped yourself before dialing his number. Consequently, no contact was made for the two months leading up to your departure. In the fall of 1986, you left Hawkins and didn’t look back.

Being each other's first love, you and Eddie shared an irreplaceable bond. He was your reference point when it came to matters of the heart. In a world full of options and roads to take, you could’ve been anything but you wanted to be his again.

It took a while but you got back in the saddle. The mediocre dates outnumbered the satisfactory ones. You had a handful of boyfriends but none of the relationships got serious enough for you to meet their folks. You struggled to fully invest yourself even when they were the perfect gentleman who cared about you. They were nice but they weren’t Eddie.

You knew that you’d be okay someday. It took two years for the ball and chain to rust through entirely. While the ache may resurface from time to time, it has dwindled to a dull throbbing. Whenever the pain begins to swell, you remind yourself of how much you’ve achieved on your own. Hell, brushing off the hurt has gotten you this far.

Seeing Eddie canoodle Karie is driving you to question if you ever healed at all. Perhaps you merely fooled yourself into believing that you moved on. By the looks of it, Eddie is fulfilled being with her. You’re curious about what he remembers. Does he know your birthday or the color of your eyes? Has he forgotten the nickname that he called you so frequently that it made your real name sound unfitting?

With a subtle shake of your head, you concentrate on Scott, determined to divert your thoughts away from Eddie. As Scott continues his story of riding Vespas in Italy, you nod and grin, doing your best to feign interest and play it off as though you have been fully engaged this whole time. It’s difficult to fight the urge to sneak another glance at Eddie.

Despite your best efforts, your eyes betray you. They dart back in his direction. His curls, once a beloved characteristic, look soft and shiny. The chocolate coils cascade around his features like the delicate branches of a willow tree. Your mind conjures images of him carefully tending to them with care.

Eddie looks down at Karie and says something to her. In response, she kisses the hand of his that’s dangling off of her shoulder. Eddie and Karie's interaction, their seemingly effortless interaction, twists your guts like a saturated towel being wrung out until it’s bone dry. You wish she’d rip the look of contentment off of his face.

The overwhelming urge to avoid any potential encounter with Eddie intensifies. You don’t know what you’d say to him. As the pain of seeing Eddie persists, you use Scott as a lifeline to anchor yourself in the present. His animated gestures and stories offer an escape from the thoughts that threaten to consume you. He's going on about how your moms are still good friends and they started a book club together. As Scott mentions their current choice of reading material—a steamy romance novel—you can't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the wiggle of his eyebrows.

After your laughter dies down, Scott continues to ramble. His incessant words enter one ear and exit the other without leaving a trace. He’s like a chattering teeth toy that’s been wound up too tightly. You're acutely aware of Eddie’s proximity and it’s like an invisible weight on your chest. The mere thought of him conjures emotions you've been desperately trying to keep at bay. It's a delicate balance between acknowledging his existence and avoiding the sorrow that accompanies it.

The intro of "Heat of the Moment" fills the air, sending a jolt through your body. The song paints the picture of a time when it was your anthem, the soundtrack to your relationship with Eddie. But now it feels like a cruel twist of fate to hear it playing. As the thumping beat reverberates through the speakers and the lyrics echo around the room, it becomes harder to maintain your composure. You can’t remember the last time you heard it but it surely hadn’t hurt this much. In great need of space to collect yourself, you place your hand on top of Scott’s. The touch halts his self-absorbed rambling. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Sensing your distress, he looks at you with concern and his self-centered demeanor fades. “Sure thing,” Scott nods before sparking up a conversation with the trio seated across from him.

You weave around clusters of people until you find yourself in a less populated area. The sound of chatter and laughter recede into the background as you approach a short table adorned with generic-looking tiger decorations that are undoubtedly meant for children’s parties. The three-tier stand has been picked over but there are a few remaining cupcakes that have H’s messily piped in orange frosting on top. Across the backside of the table is a tri-fold presentation board with photos taken by the yearbook staff stapled to it. Yet again, you look at the faces of people who didn’t give your existence much thought. While you look closely at the images, you don’t realize that you’re humming along to the song.

The two asshats conversing with Karie are as uninterested in Eddie as he is in them. Rather than actively engaging in the dialogue, he adopts a passive approach by making occasional sounds that mimic agreement. He’s trying to make this experience as painless as possible.

He’s in attendance against his will but he’d rather be here than to have Karie on his case about her feeling humiliated for attending by her lonesome. Unlike her, Eddie doesn't place a great deal of importance on his reputation or what others think of him. It's one aspect of his character that remains unchanged.

Eddie observes the lively scene unfolding before him. He watches as people mingle and sip generic brand punch from disposable cups. His line of sight sweeps the seating arrangements and he does a double take. It feels like an arrow spears his chest and his heart is the bullseye. “Apple,” He breathes out with his mouth narrowly agape. Apple of my eye.

As Eddie looks you over, he takes note of how your appearance looks effortful and your jewelry pairs perfectly with your outfit. The subtle differences that time has brought make him yearn to acquaint himself with them. The dark circles below your eyes defy the light layer of makeup that’s been applied to conceal them. Your hair, styled in a way that accentuates your features, beckons his fingers to play with it.

He marvels at you, his eyes tracing the contours of your form. Eddie knew that you wouldn’t look the same if he saw you again but your mature beauty is throwing him for a loop nevertheless.

You’re talking to someone. He looks familiar but Eddie isn’t sure who he is. Sam? Brett? Who the hell cares, what’s for certain is that this dude is a hunk. His shirt is immaculate, devoid of any wrinkles. His facial hair is precisely trimmed to create a sharp edge along his jaw. Eddie's hand instinctively glides over his scruff and he regrets not touching it up while getting ready.

Judging by the way you’re engaging with him, it’s plain to see that this guy is your boyfriend or maybe even your husband. But since when are you into the athletic type? Obviously, the man is mindful of the food he eats and has a consistent workout routine.

Eddie looks down at his bicep, which rests behind Karie's head, and a wave of insecurity washes over him. He convinces himself that he is not toned enough to meet your preferences. You used to love the slight pudge of his belly but you probably wouldn’t find his physique attractive anymore. Ever the hypocrite, Eddie grits his teeth when your hand grasps the man’s forearm. Your laugh cuts through the noise and sends a pang through Eddie’s core.

He feels selfish for wanting the meathead to kick you to the curb and leave you so heartbroken that you come crawling back to him. Eddie could save the day and treat you well like he always intended. Is this guy keeping you comfortable and ensuring that your needs are met? Does he spoil you with gifts and shower you with affection?

He hates that he hasn’t seen or made you smile like that in so long. He tried to forget how much he missed the little things. He can’t remember the way your perfume smelled but he reminisces about the way it used to fill him with light. It was invigorating to smell, touch, and taste you. You had a way of flooding Eddie’s senses that was borderline addicting. You were oxygen to him and you breathed him back to life when he felt deflated. Throughout the years, Eddie had been holding his breath as he navigated life without you. Finally, seeing you as beautiful as ever, he feels like he can breathe again.

He wonders how you’ve changed. Above all, he hopes that your infectious laugh, with its distinctive snort that he adored, hasn’t gone away. He’s itching to walk over but Eddie finds himself restrained by Karie. He feels a sense of restlessness from how badly he wants to engage with you.

Karie looks up at him and asks a question but he doesn’t comprehend what she says. Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, that’s true.” He throws in a light chuckle and that sells it. She kisses the top of his hand and he feigns a grin at her affectionate gesture. The sensation of her lips pursed against his hand makes his skin crawl more than it usually does. Eddie imagines that they’re your lips instead. He knows that her gesture is for show. She’s not remotely this lovey-dovey behind closed doors. Karie is portraying the image of a stable relationship for people who could give a shit about her love life.

Eddie believes that you left Hawkins because you didn’t have faith in his third try at graduating. You left because he wasn’t good enough of a reason to stay. The argument you had flipped on the defense mechanism switch in his brain. It was a means of self-preservation and he protected himself in the only way he knew how. While this impulsive act may have prevented you from initiating the breakup somewhere along the line, it didn't diminish the pain of losing you.

When he got back to his trailer shortly after the fight, Eddie tore his bedroom apart to frantically collect any item that had anything to do with you. Within the jumbled mess of hair accessories and mismatching socks were the tangible reminders of your shared attachment—a skull ring you had given him on his previous birthday, folded notes, and Polaroids that were once lovingly taped to his mirror.

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to throw any of it away because it all meant so much to him. He simply couldn't bear to have any reminders of you lingering around. The keepsakes were dumped into a wilted shoebox and stuffed in the far back corner of the hallway closet. By stashing it away, Eddie was shielding himself from the sharp sting of abandonment that he feared would accompany their presence. He hoped that by removing the mementos, he could somehow free himself from the emotional burden that they carried.

Eddie may not have fit the mold of a traditional Prince Charming, but he regarded you as his princess in the imperfect fairytale that you lived in. Truthfully, he was flawed and so was the relationship. Some arguments started over trivial matters such as Eddie chewing with his mouth open after you asked him to stop countless times. There were instances that you reminded him politely but sometimes you were less than patient.

That’s one of your flaws that drove Eddie up the wall. It seemed that no matter what he did, there was a sense of dissatisfaction or criticism. Be that as it may, he accepted that it was part of the exchange. You hated shit that he did and he felt the same way toward your bad habits. No romance is without its trials and tribulations. The various points of conflict proved that love is not smooth sailing at all times. It requires effort, compromise, and understanding from both parties.

Occasionally, you would go to sleep mad at each other. When that was the case, Eddie insisted on saying “I love you” and exchanging a goodnight kiss. It didn’t matter if it was brief, on the cheek, or over the phone. He made certain that you never went to bed without a manifestation of his devotion. These acts of reassurance served as a testament to Eddie's refusal to let negative emotions overshadow the deep affection he held for you. Eddie ensured that you didn't spend the night in your respective bedrooms drowning in tears or overthinking every word that had been said in the heat of the moment. The first and only time he broke that commitment was the day he discovered the acceptance letter.

Despite not handling the situation well, Eddie wasn’t usually immature. He always listened intently when you spoke to him. He nodded and maintained eye contact to make certain that you knew he heard and supported you. One thing Eddie had to learn how to do was to stop giving unsolicited advice. It was a habit that stemmed from his discomfort with unresolved problems. It was challenging for him to refrain from trying to find solutions when handling a situation that seemed potentially fixable. However, Eddie gained awareness of his shortcoming when he realized that you stopped confiding in him about the girls who teased you in PE.

It was a love of such great intensity that many adults struggle to comprehend, let alone handle it if they are fortunate enough to find it.

After the season transitioned from crisp to bitter, Eddie went looking for a new way to keep himself warm. You were the only partner he’d had and he would’ve been content rolling around with you for the rest of his days. But you gave up on him, so he did whatever he had to in order to keep the loneliness away. To the best of his ability, Eddie avoided the memory of you by sidetracking himself with pretty faces. Engulfed in a string of one-night stands, he found himself desperately chasing the elusive feeling he experienced with you.

No rebound was going to help Eddie get over you. He realized that if he was going to live without you, he’d be miserable at best. Engaging in casual encounters did little to alleviate the emptiness within him. Instead, it merely provided a temporary surge of dopamine. This fleeting pleasure offered a brief distraction until he moved on to the next woman and endured yet another night without you.

Your lips left a watermark that couldn’t be washed away with time. Your touch was delicate as if you were scared he would shatter in your palms; but it wasn’t your touch that could break him, it was the loss of it. Eddie has been nothing short of broken since. You hold the key to the vulnerable part of his being. Behind a heart-shaped padlock lies his compassionate, goofy, and gentle side. A side that has remained locked away since you left.

Fortunately, Eddie earned his diploma on his third try after shedding blood, sweat, and tears. Regardless of his initial determination to leave Hawkins following graduation, Eddie didn’t take the leap. He realized that if he left, you would have no way of finding him. Despite the painful way things ended between you, he made a sacrifice, forfeiting the opportunity for a brighter future in the hopes that you might reappear in his life someday.

Sleeping around became tiresome so he reluctantly agreed to go on a blind date with Karie. It would be a stretch to say that he actively chose to continue seeing her. Following their dinner together, Karie became an unabating presence in his life, akin to a persistent house fly buzzing in his ear. She frequently called him, making her pursuit of him abundantly clear. Eddie found himself lacking the motivation to address and shut down her behavior, indifferent to the situation that unfolded.

At first, he was confused by her persistence because what would someone like her want to do with someone like him? She had run through all of the eligible bachelors in Hawkins, only to drive them away with her insufferable behavior, leaving Eddie as her last option. They’ve been on and off for so long that it’s merely routine at this point. He has no desire to try his luck dating other women. No matter how unhappy she makes him, it’s better than being alone. With Karie, the good times are okay at best. She has a tendency to instigate senseless arguments, seemingly for the sheer thrill of drama.

On top of that, the sex isn’t mind-blowing by any means, which hardly makes it worth it. For Eddie, it’s emotionless and strictly physical relief. He couldn’t get invested if he tried because of how controlling she is, inside and outside of the bedroom. When they’re in the car together he doesn’t get to tune the radio to the station that he likes. She dictates his plans and makes sure every moment of his free time is spent with her.

Eddie chose mistreatment over being lonely and longing for the girl he pushed away. Karie is a welcome distraction, albeit a toxic one, from what he really wants. Even if he could only be your pen pal or someone you get coffee with while you visit on occasion, he’d take the chance in a heartbeat. He’s bruised from years worth of kicking himself for letting you go.

Part of Eddie knew that you were unlikely to return to Hawkins, but he couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope. Each year, he would check the phone book and search for any sign of you. It was wishful thinking but he couldn’t let go. On occasion, Eddie asked around town in the hopes of gathering any tidbits concerning your whereabouts or how you were doing. His inquiries yielded no substantial leads or insights that could provide a glimpse into your life.

Eddie wonders how much time passed before you moved on. He can't help but hope that you touched yourself to the thought of him, that you cried into your pillow pretending it was his chest instead. He hopes that hearing your song kept the memories from eroding.

The absence of your light cast a shadow over Eddie's days, leaving him immersed in a perpetual state of darkness. He found himself trapped in a world of thunder and gray skies, where the vibrant colors of life had faded to muted shades. At night, as he lay in bed, Eddie's thoughts would inevitably drift back to the way it felt to hold you in his arms.

It shouldn’t have been goodbye, it certainly didn’t have to be. The discovery of the letter hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. It was a farewell, one that would unfold gradually. He was confronted with the painful truth that people inevitably walk out of his life. It was an inevitable pattern, one he had encountered time and again. Friends had drifted away, relationships had crumbled, and now it seemed you that you too, were going to outgrow him.

As the years went by, Eddie thanked himself for holding onto the shoebox of keepsakes; it was all that he had left to cherish. You were god knows where doing god knows what. The only place Eddie could find you was in his dreams and in that box. The selfishness didn’t falter as the regret heightened. He crossed his fingers for your plans to go up in flames, for you to flunk your classes so that you would have no choice but to move back home. If by chance you did return, he intended to do everything in his power to show you how sorry he was.

Eddie zoned out while a cyclone of feelings tore up his ability to stay present with Karie under his arm. He’s been so caught up in his head that he’s practically vibrating. As if the universe has decided to spare him, “Heat Of The Moment” begins to blare from the speakers. Eddie’s eyes snap to your table but you’re nowhere to be seen. His panicked eyes scan the floor for the pair of legs that never failed to make him drool.

As if luck is on his side tonight, Karie’s voice cuts through the noise. “I need to use the ladies' room.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie shrugs and watches Karie walk toward the restrooms. He spots you hurrying past a group of people. In this charged atmosphere, surrounded by the whispers of what could have been, Eddie has to make a decision. Is he going to take the leap and risk further heartache or let the moment slip away, forever wondering what might have been? Apparently, Eddie’s feet have a mind of their own because he’s going after you at a moment’s notice.

His scuffed sneakers squeak against the polished floor as he weaves with determination coursing through his veins. Eddie mutters, “Excuse me,” when he bumps into someone but he doesn’t stop moving until he finds you checking out the snack table display. As he steps closer, he gets déjà vu from being drawn to you the same way he was the first time he noticed you.

On a gloomy Friday in September during sophomore year, Eddie was in U.S. history when he was hit with inspiration. Ideas for a campaign flickered in his mind and he needed to capture them before they slipped away. While he scribbled, Eddie momentarily tuned out the ongoing presentation that was being delivered by his classmate. He was fully immersed in the realm of his imagination as he jotted down strategies and visual concepts.

Not long after his pencil hit the paper, Eddie felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Mr. Gatlin standing beside him with disapproval stamped on his face. Eddie tried to explain that he was taking notes for his own project, hoping to avoid any consequences. Mr. Gatlin was unconvinced and wrote him a detention slip.

In the designated classroom for the disciplinary measure were three other students who, like him, were slouched at their desks. Eddie kept himself busy by filling out the form that he needed to submit to start a new club. The blank space on the paper seemed to mock him, taunting his inability to come up with a clever club name. As Eddie's thoughts swirled around, he was abruptly brought back to reality by the sound of your voice softly greeting the teacher. With a lifted gaze, Eddie watched how you interacted with her, offering a respectful salutation instead of presenting a dismissive attitude like the average disgruntled student would.

His eyes traced the contours of your profile while you settled into a desk near the door. He couldn’t recall seeing you around, you seemed detached from any particular social clique. Eddie could tell that you didn't dress to conform or uphold a particular image. There was a refreshing authenticity about you. It was clear to him that you weren't shy. Rather, you preferred to avoid unnecessary attention.

It was as if a dormant part of him had suddenly awakened and the self-consciousness gnawed at him. His hair, which he had been growing out, was at an awkward length as it fell just above his earlobes. He frowned at his reflection in the nearby window, noticing the acne that bespeckled his complexion. He examined his shirt for any visible signs of wear and tear. The insecurities crept in, making him question whether his appearance was enough to catch your eye.

Eddie spent the entire hour utterly captivated by how cute you were. As the teacher announced dismissal and you gathered your belongings, his heart sank. He had the chance to make a move but his nerves got the best of him and he was rooted to his seat. The desire to go after you to introduce himself tugged at him. Eddie was stuck on all the reasons why he shouldn't. What if you didn't want to be approached? What if you had somewhere to be or you weren't interested in getting to know someone new? He berated himself for letting his insecurities hold him back.

That following Monday, Eddie was tardy to fifth-period study hall and when he lifted his eyes from his shuffling feet, his heart leaped in his chest. There you were in the far back corner of the classroom. As it turns out, you’d been in his class the entire semester. The teacher asked Eddie to take a seat. He swore under his breath and smoothed down his frizzy hair while he sauntered over to the available desk beside yours.

Eddie settled and a creak resonated through the otherwise silent classroom. You remained in your own world, engrossed in the act of doodling. He respected the reminder from the teacher to maintain silence, understanding that this was not the opportune time to introduce himself.

He stole glances at your notebook, intrigued by the abstract shapes and lines that decorated the page. They held a certain allure, a reflection of the intricacies of your mind. It was as though he was stepping into your dimension, one where vulnerability and creativity intertwined. Eddie felt a connection with you. He understood that sometimes, amidst the pressures and expectations of daily life, it was important to allow yourself to breathe and simply be. At the end of class, Eddie once again watched you gather your things and leave. Instead of being hard on himself for letting you go once more, he became eager.

The next morning, Eddie got out of bed early to spend more time on his appearance. He aimed to look and smell his best because he was finally going to put himself out there. Bouncing through his day with a spring in his step, Eddie made his way to the classroom. As he settled in the desk next to you, he intentionally made more noise than necessary. He rummaged through his backpack and shuffled the contents but you didn’t pay him any mind.

As Eddie tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, the sound echoed through the classroom, drawing disapproving glances from your classmates. With his slightly chewed-up number two pencil, Eddie wrote a message on the first line. He held his breath as he slid the sheet onto your Trapper Keeper. For a few heart-pounding seconds, everything else seemed to fade into the background. He had yet to exhale, watching as you picked up the note and read Eddie’s messy penmanship.

The furrow in your brow softened. In that instant, the ice that surrounded you began to melt. The brief moment of eye contact felt electrically charged. He swam in the hue of your irises as he looked past your initially withdrawn disposition. When your toothy smile took shape, it tugged on his heart. To him, you were more than just a pretty girl; you welcomed him with open arms, free of repulsion or fear.

The minutes ticked away while the paper was passed between you like a messenger. It was a blank canvas transformed into a heavily graffitied wall. High school had been nothing short of cruel to him so far, so he needed a friend. When the bell rang, Eddie folded the paper and tucked it away into his backpack where it would be safe. From thereon out, a mute dance evolved between the two of you on a daily basis. The restrictions of the no-talking rule seemed inconsequential as you found other ways to communicate, transcending the need for talking.

In times of solitude and introspection, Eddie has sought solace in those pages. Like a worn-out book, he knows them by heart, having reread them countless times. Whenever he opens that shoebox and unfolds those precious notes, he’s transported back to the time when his life was in technicolor. They became more than ink on a page. Each word, each scribble, carried the significance of your history.

It’s quieter by the snack table. The closer Eddie gets to you, the wetter his shirt feels. His palms begin to tremble as the adrenaline in his system kicks up. The sensation feels eerily similar to the pre-show jitters he used to get back in the day when he and his bandmates would take the stage at The Hideout. Eddie takes another step and now he can hear that you're quietly singing along to the song. He can’t stop himself from singing with you.

As his familiar voice reaches your ears, a mix of emotions well up within you, causing a lump to form in your throat. With a quick intake of breath, you turn around and put on a mask of surprise as if you hadn't been staring at him with his girlfriend. “Eddie!”

“Hey, you.” He purrs, casually holding his arms open. He wishes he’d taken a second to rehearse what he was going to open with but there’s no going back now.

At first, you’re rigid when he goes in for a hug. But once his hands find your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. Eddie's embrace tightens, lifting you slightly off the ground. Being lifted onto your tippy toes ignites a playful giggle and you bury your face in his silky curls. His chuckle rattles against your chest, the sound creating a soothing vibration that rolls deep within you. You nuzzle up to him as you melt. Being wrapped in each other's arms feels like a balm for the wounds of the past.

Eddie is a little too high to be on his best behavior. Your natural scent evokes a sense of nostalgia and comfort. The fragrance of your perfume adds a layer to the intoxicating mix, its fresh and mature notes entice him. Your bodies feel different pressed together but just like puzzle pieces, they only fit with their corresponding piece. Being chest to chest, your hearts dare to relink.

He guides your feet back to the floor and loosens his grip, splaying his palms flat on the small of your back. When your eyes meet, you feel like you’re anywhere but in the musty gym. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers down to your lips and you can’t help but do the same.

“Edward,” Karie says loudly, her voice laced with possessiveness as if she’s his mother.

Promptly pulled out of his lustful trance, Eddie releases you and steps back. A rough clearing of his throat breaks the stillness. He turns to face Karie and consciously composes himself by donning an innocent expression, aiming to hide the intensity of what just transpired. “Yeah, babe?” The pet name tastes sour as it rolls off of his tongue.

Karie loops her left arm around his right one and tugs him close. “Who’s this?” She doesn’t blink once while she looks you over from head to toe.

You nearly scoff because you refuse to believe that she doesn’t remember you. The audacity to pretend that she doesn’t know you were his girlfriend for four years. You can see right through her poised and cordial exterior. She’s intimidated because she knows how much you meant to him, and you’re not wrong about that. One day, Karie was being nosey and snooped around Eddie’s trailer while he was outside tinkering under the hood of her car. The desire to uncover any hidden secrets of his past compelled her to dig deeper, disregarding any boundaries of privacy. She came across the stash underneath his bed, nearly camouflaged by dirty clothes and junk food wrappers. The shoebox, once a privately kept capsule of young love, laid open before Karie. She knew exactly what she’d found.

Before Eddie can give a proper introduction, you outstretch your hand to her and do it yourself to see how long she’ll play dumb. You refuse to let Karie's facade deceive you, remaining steadfast in that she’s well aware of the impact you’ve had on his life.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and stares down at the floor while Karie repeats your name as if it tastes familiar but she can’t quite place it. She’s drawing out her performance but Eddie hasn’t picked up on it in the slightest. He isn’t any good at detecting subtlety. When you were together, he had to be told how you were feeling because he’s “not a mind reader.” Poor thing, he truly thinks that Karie has no idea who you are.

Her burgundy-painted lips curl inauthentically, revealing her somewhat crooked teeth. “Oh! We had algebra together, right?”

You let out a sound that resembles amusement, though the irritability with her bitchiness is evident. “No. American Literature, actually.”

She considers arguing that you’re the one who’s misremembering but Eddie pipes up before she has the chance. “Would either of you ladies like some punch?”

Karie says “No,” without taking her eyes off of you.

From the heat of her stare, the moisture in your mouth has evaporated. You meet Eddie’s gaze and grin warmly. “Sure, I could go for some.”

He leans in and winks, “Want me to spike it?”

You giggle and nod in reply. Eddie shoots you with finger guns and then walks away to the nearby table that houses the beverages. In his absence, it becomes apparent how much he was buffering the tension. It skyrockets and Karie’s glare is unwavering. Regardless of how uncomfortable she’s making you, you offer her pleasantness to glower at. “Well, it looks like you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snarls while folding her arms across her chest.

Thankfully, Eddie returns with the two cups of fruit punch and he hands them both to you. You hold them steadily as Eddie pulls a small flask from his sneaker. With practiced precision, Eddie adds a dash of the mystery liquor to one of the cups, while the other receives a more generous pour of two shots' worth. Oblivious to Karie's scoff and eye roll, Eddie remains focused on his task, unaware of the disapproval emanating from her.

Eddie takes the stronger cup and taps the lip of it against your own. “Cheers,” He grins before chugging the entirety of the concoction.

You take a small sip and watch as the flushed sunset crawls across Eddie’s neck. As you go to take another sip, Eddie gently lifts the bottom of your cup to encourage you to swig instead. Your eyebrows lift in surprise but you do what he wishes while he smiles goofily at you.

Now that you’ve swallowed enough to really taste it, you can tell that his palette has evolved. The bitter scald sends a shiver down your spine and you squeeze your eyes closed. A cough bubbles from your throat, bringing the earthy pine flavor back up with it. Eddie pats your back through your coughing fit as if it’ll help but he knows it won’t. It’s simply an excuse to touch you.

“Thanks,” You clear your throat. “That’s some strong stuff, pretty different from your Blue Ribbon days.” Back then, Eddie swore that Pabst’s Blue Ribbon Beer was the nectar of the gods and he vowed to drink it to his grave. Eyeballing the remainder of the tainted punch in your cup, you try to think about anything other than how awful the aftertaste is.

“Y’know, that’s forty-five dollar gin you’re choking on.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Woah, big spender over here.” Without thinking, you poke at his belly, sharing a laugh while the liquor warms both of you at your cores.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Karie is seething beneath her carefully curated surface. She taps her foot and looks around the room with her arms still crossed. Though she has been listening to your conversation, Karie has chosen not to participate. She perceives herself as being above Eddie's antics. But there's an underlying fear that lingers; she recognizes the depth of the bond that you have with him and she‘s threatened by it.

You’re getting a rise out of her by entertaining his spontaneity and it’s rather satisfying. The steam blowing out of her ears is just below Eddie’s emotional awareness radar. When your eyes meet hers, a nonverbal conversation ensues.

What the fuck is your problem, lady?

I don’t like you and he’s mine, so don’t even think about it.

Meanwhile, Eddie is bobbing his head to the music while the combination of substances takes him up into the clouds. Your focus is brought back to him when he resumes the conversation. “What about you? What’ve you been wetting your whistle with?” He continues to ignore Karie and neglects to include her. “Are you more of a chardonnay or champagne girl?” Eddie’s brows scrunch together. “Wait, what’s the difference?”

You giggle at his genuine puzzlement and it makes his breath quake. There’s something about the way you beam so dazzlingly while he’s making a fool of himself. Except, he saw you smile similarly at your boyfriend. Eddie can feel his temper ignite at the thought alone but that’s not the only source of heat. He’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of your radiance. Yet, he’s aware of the potential burn and consequences that may arise from getting too close.

Karie is tired of watching the spotlight be on you. She nudges Eddie and he grudgingly acknowledges her. “I’m going to go catch up with the Reynen twins.” At last, Karie has given up on doing her best to intimidate you.

“Tell them I say ‘hi,’ I guess.” Eddie’s mouth forms a straight line and he shoves his hands into his front pockets. When he looks back at you, joy returns to his face. Partially due to the buzz overtaking his nerves and because the wicked witch is gone. A silence hangs in the air while he thinks, God, she looks fucking incredible, but he forgets to say anything.

Your eyes land on the familiar necklace peeking out from beneath Eddie's dress shirt. The guitar pick dangles there, a symbol of his lifelong enthusiasm for music. “I’m glad to see you still play.”

Eddie sucks his teeth and flips the guitar pick between his fingers. “Uh- yeah, not so much anymore.”

“What, why not? You used to play every day.”

“I know.” Eddie murmurs, "Just been busy, y'know?" He’s making a feeble attempt to cloak the depth of his emotions. The timeline he recalls was the turning point when his love for playing began to wane.

Not only did Eddie lose his first love but you were his muse as well. After the split, music didn’t feel or sound the same. Sure, he listened to his favorite albums but to this day, playing feels meaningless. He tries picking up his Warlock on occasion but he never gets past strumming a chord before he gets too heavy-hearted and puts it back in its case.

Losing you immediately caused a rift between him and the other members of Corroded Coffin. Their disbandment was swift due to the altered dynamic. There was no passion and he had completely given up. As cold as it was for his bandmates to reciprocate his hostility, he did nothing to preserve his tight-knit friendships with them. Eddie had already lost the most important thing in the world to him and losing his buddies wasn’t going to hurt more than that.

“That’s a shame, you were so talented.” You shift your weight between the balls of your feet with a blend of shock and disappointment on your face. Feeling that this is probably the moment you should walk away, you muster the courage to give parting words. "It's been fun catching up, but I should get going." Your voice carries a tinge of sadness.

“Wait! I was thinking, uh- do you wanna go to The Hideout?” He licks his lips. “Like old times?” Eddie’s chocolate saucers search your eyes while twists the ring below his middle knuckle. “I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to.” Eddie is terrified that you’re about to slip through his fingers because this is his chance; this is what he’s been waiting for.

You bite the inside of your cheek at his pleading expression. “Are you sure? What’ll the missus think of that?”

Eddie dismisses your concern by blowing a raspberry with his tingling lips. “Pfft, I’m a grown-ass man. I can do whatever I want.”

“I don’t know,” Your mouth goes dry again at the thought of revisiting the watering hole that holds innumerable memories. It becomes impossibly difficult to deny him as his eyes reflect the light.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink,” He pouts.

You close your eyes and mull it over for a moment. The sound of Eddie anxiously tapping his knuckles together is enough to convince you. “Okay, fine.”

”That’s what I'm talking about!” he pumps his fists but then he pauses. “What about your beau?” Eddie motions to Scott who is still conversing at the table that you were previously sitting at. Buff blondie seems to have forgotten about your return.

You look between Scott and Eddie. “I’m here by myself.”

As much as he tries, Eddie fails to fight the cheek-aching smile that forms. His heart is thrumming so hard that he wouldn’t be able to stop it from bursting through his ribs if it went flying. “My mistake.” Eddie pulls his car keys from his back pocket and spins them around his index finger. “Wanna ride with me?”

Your mouth opens but instead of words, a squeak of agreement is all that comes out. You turn to walk toward the exit and without missing a beat, Eddie instinctively moves to your side, matching your stride as you make your way toward the exit. His smile is so deeply engraved on his face that he’s going to need to ice his cheeks later.

On your way out of The Hideout, Eddie holds the heavy metal door open for you. The clouds had opened up while you were inside and they’ve left the air dense with the scent of fresh rain. It mingles with the aroma of tobacco smoke drifting from the bar's door. In the street, puddles form small mirrors that reflect the pearlescent moon above.

You delved into conversation with ease and traded stories of the lives you’ve led since your last encounter. Tales of success and misfortune spilled forth, weaving your individual journeys into a tapestry of shared experiences. The interaction was a dance of subtlety, an unspoken agreement to move at a pace dictated by each other’s ever-growing willingness to explore. A brush of fingertips here, a gentle touch on the arm there—small gestures laden with hope.

Cars roll through flooded potholes and splash the curb with a wave of pavement fragments. The mist hanging in the air makes the streetlamps and neon signs glow. Eddie leans against the dampened brick and you echo his position, standing shoulder to shoulder. You frown when Eddie pulls a stray cigarette out of his breast pocket and balances it between his lips. “I kinda hoped you’d have quit.”

“I did for the most part.” He mumbles. As Eddie lights his cigarette, a wisp of smoke swirls lazily from the tip, blending with the haze of the earlier downpour. After taking a long drag and smoothly releasing, he looks at you. “I really only smoke when I’ve got a lot on my mind.” On the come down from his weed high, he’s combining nicotine and alcohol to combat the intense feelings of attraction stirring within him. It’s occurring to him that this night is coming to an end.

Eddie looks like he’s battling to stay in the present while actively seeping away. For a moment, you listen to the water drizzling off of the tattered awning and hitting the ground. Music escapes through the door as patrons go in and out of the bar. “So… Karie West, huh? How long have you two-”

“Don’t do that.” Eddie bites off the end of your sentence.

You turn to face him fully. “Don’t do what?”

Eddie huffs and flicks his cigarette. “Don’t bring her up. She’s the last thing I wanna talk about.”

“Okay,” You sigh barely above a whisper and glance away. The sting in your chest shoots to your fingertips at his sharp tone, not unlike the one he used that fateful day.

Eddie takes a shorter drag but holds it this time. He allows it to char the inside of his lungs before exhaling the plume of smoke. The events of the evening are rippling through his mind, the conversations and laughter seamlessly melding with the good memories he’s held onto. “I was gonna propose to you.” He states very matter-of-factly as if that isn’t a huge bomb to drop on you.

“Nu-uh.” You blink rapidly in utter disbelief.

“Yeah huh. I carried the ring box on me for like three weeks.” At this point, he can’t tell what’s what. Either his emotions are so strong that he can’t feel his toes or the booze, nicotine, and traces of weed are causing him to short-circuit. “But then I found out about-” Eddie stops himself, unwilling to relive it out loud. He flicks his cigarette and brings it back to his mouth.

“Wow,” There’s that stabbing sensation in your chest that you know all to well. Tears flood your vision because what could’ve been seems better than the life you wound up living without him. Due to the way you’re dodging his eye contact, he fails to see how glassy your eyes have become. You sniffle, your nose reacting to the drop in temperature and your emotions running high. The weight of disappointment settles heavily as you grapple with his statement. “Did you give it to her instead?”

Eddie tosses his cigarette to the pavement and stomps it out. “Fuck no,” His laughter is accompanied by a shake of his head as he entertains the absurdity of the notion. The very idea of such a fate makes his stomach churn; the mere thought could induce physical sickness. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then why are you with her?” You wish you hadn’t blurted it out, but if he’s so miserable then why does he stick around? Considering what you went through, you know damn well that Eddie isn’t afraid to leave when something no longer serves him.

He adjusts his back against the wall which causes the change in his wallet to jingle. “It’s complicated.”

Your persistence to know the truth causes the tears to spill over your waterline and drag streaks of mascara down your face. “Do you love her? Is that why?”

Looking into your eyes right now brings him right back to that day and he’s watching you shatter all over again. “Absolutely not.” The insecurity in your tone is obvious enough that Eddie picks up on it. He loses his train of thought in knowing that there must be a reason behind you asking that particular question. Eddie looks down before meeting your gaze again.

“D-Did you love me?” You nibble your bottom lip and watch the way his expression softens. At the time, it felt like he did but with all of the overthinking you’ve done, your view of the past has been distorted.

He can’t tell if he’s breathing right now, you look so beautiful with the streetlight reflections turning your tears into gems. “Did I love you?” Eddie chokes out, “Of course I did. I never stopped.”

Your lips part a sliver as your brain begs for more oxygen to cope. To soothe yourself, you begin picking at your cuticles but you can hardly feel the pinch.

“You were everything to me.” As Eddie steps closer, his scent overtakes you. His hand trembles as he swipes at your dampened cheeks. “I couldn't stop thinking about you,” he whispers, “Every day, every night, you were constantly on my mind.”

You’re frozen in place, fidgeting ceased as you stare back. You gulp at the way his hair flies behind him in the brisk twilight gust. Eddie takes your hands and the heat of his warms your own. A sense of intimacy flows through you, interlacing the past and present. “I thought about you too.” You look down at your joined hands, watching his fingers rekindle their connection with yours after so many years apart.

You trace the lines of his palms with your fingertips. It's as if your hands remember each other, relearning the contours and textures that were once so familiar. Eddie's eyes remain fixed on you, his gaze dripping with tenderness and longing. He guides your hands to rest on his collarbones and you can feel the strength of his body through his shirt. He gently caresses your ribs and slides his hands down to your waist. You respond eagerly by stepping closer and your navels touch.

His bated breaths mirror yours, both of you caught up in how it’s as if the universe has conspired to bring you back together. Eddie can’t bear the distance much longer. He rests his forehead against yours and it creates a bridge between your souls. You share the air, recycling each other’s breaths. The hovering of his lips causes your heart to pound against your ribs. But as his lips draw closer, you find yourself compelled to stop him. “Wait.”

Eddie pulls back ever so slightly to provide space for your voice to be heard. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking. “I don’t want her, I want you.”

You look away, feeling conflicted. Eddie guides your chin back to his and he strokes your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Meanwhile, his other hand applies comforting pressure to your hip. He studies your face while you lean into his touch. “I need you, Apple. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

His mind begins to race when he’s met with nothing in response, fearing that exposing his heart to you isn’t enough. After his words have soaked in, Eddie notices the shift in your expression, and relief rids him of the fear of being rejected.

“You won’t,” You hum and breathe as deeply as you can.

Both of your eyes fall closed and your lips brush with hesitance. It’s you who caves first; your lips interlock, pillowy soft, and sweet with a boozy burn. The kiss breaks. Both of your chests heave and your eyes remain closed. The briefness has you weak in the knees but your hold on his shoulder has tightened to keep you upright. Eddie tugs you impossibly closer and kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to. He has to make this count.

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat and his nose presses into the plush of your cheek as he deepens the kiss. It’s both a declaration and an apology, conveying everything that should’ve been said a long time ago. Your movements are slow, intentional, and the definition of pure bliss. There’s no rush or urgency, just the desire to savor each other. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck and your fingers gently entangle themselves where they belong. The nine-year gap between the last kiss and this one evaporates.

When you pull away to catch your breaths, aching smiles overtake your features. On the day of the fight, you saw nothing but indignation in his eyes. And now, all that you see is the promise of forever.

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tags: @tlclick73 @nj01

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skellymom · 5 months

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I love your haircut! That’s why I followed in the first place 😊

Omgosh, thanks! It's a lazy, messy mohawk. The silver is 100% natural and I started going grey at 15 years old. Dyed it jet black for awhile back in the 1990's as that was the only color that would stay. And, it worked as I dressed (poor/broke) Goth/Spooky back in the day (before affordable wearables were available to most of us then). Had extremely long hair (down to my butt) then and eventually got sick of dying it and my bathroom. So I eventually went back to my pixie cut style (from back in high school-graduated 1987) and grew out the grey. Didn't give a flippity F*%&k if it aged my appearance. One day, a woman on the street stopped and asked what salon I got my hair done. Looked at her like she done lost her mind (because my generation grew up with grey/silver hair being something only oldie-moldy women wore) and societal condition is a helluva thing. She LOVED it and said it was THE STYLE NOW! Done blew me away. Long blah blah short, glad you came for the hair and stayed for the star wars, clone lust, social political or whatever posts on my feed! Sending hugs to ya!!!

#skellymom #grey hair #gray hair

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scarlettlillies · 2 months

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Hetalia - Yesterday (Nyo!DenEst)

A very belated submission for APH Estonia Week. Prompts used were Yesterday and Beach.

This fic was only supposed to be a brief 500-word ficlet. It turned into a 1.4K fic of Nyo!Denmark being a hopeless romantic. I've missed writing them so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I had fun writing it. <3

If you prefer to read this on Ao3, please click the link here.

Summary: It was the final day of their brief holiday in Hiiumaa. Even though Estonia assures her that they will be back again soon, it's not enough. Denmark was tired of going home alone.

----

The smell of coffee and waffles lured Denmark from the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Estonia’s index finger tapped against the granite countertop as she patiently waited for the final set of waffles to finish. One plate had already been completed and it had been left on the island counter behind her. Next to the plate was a cutting board with fresh strawberries, straight from her garden, that had already been sliced up in half. To the left side of the cutting board, there was a bottle of syrup, a cinnamon shaker, an open container of blueberries, and a stick of butter. The sound of a documentary on barn swallows could be faintly heard on the television in the living room.

Denmark used the moment to sneak up behind her and wrap her arms around Estonia’s waist. A loud yelp quickly turned into nervous laughter as Denmark pulled their bodies close and she nuzzled her face into Estonia’s neck. In comparison to Denmark, Estonia was already dressed for the day. She looked so cute dressed in a solid-coloured royal blue dress with a cropped black cardigan. Not a single strand of hair on her short bob haircut was out of place. She could faintly smell the lilac body spray off of Estonia’s skin. It was the same kind Denmark gave her as a birthday present a few months earlier.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” she replied as she slipped in a quick kiss on Estonia’s cheek. Denmark could feel her lover’s tensions wash away as Estonia’s head fell back and onto Denmark’s left shoulder. Though the two women were close in height, Estonia was just a tad taller than her by only an inch or two.

“Did you sleep well?” Estonia asked.

“Always do. But why didn’t ya wake me earlier? I could have helped with breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I don’t think you would have appreciated me waking you up at six.”

Denmark groaned, “C’mon! We’re on vacation. There’s no need to get up that early.”

“Sorry but you know I’m an early bird! Six is the best time to be up.”

A loud buzzing noise interrupted the conversation. The waffles were finally finished.

Denmark was a tad disappointed to have Estonia break away from their quick embrace. But a surprise peck on her lips caught her off-guard. It was so unusual for Estonia to be this affectionate that it left her cheeks red and her head on cloud nine.

“I shouldn’t be much longer. Why don’t you get dressed? You must be cold with just a t-shirt and underwear on.”

She wasn’t wrong. Denmark was a little chilly. After all, she had just rolled out of bed the moment she caught the smell of Estonia’s cooking. Collecting herself, Denmark did as she was told, but not without stealing a blueberry from the open container while Estonia’s back was turned. Her eye caught the clock on the way out of the kitchen and noted that it was just after eight-thirty.

Denmark took no more than five minutes to get herself ready, wearing a simple red zip-up hoodie and matching red athletic shorts. She brushed up her pixie cut but skipped the makeup. She returned to the kitchen to see breakfast and coffee had been all laid out. Estonia was already seated across from her, enjoying a quick sip of her coffee. The smell of the cinnamon and the syrup made Denmark’s mouth water. She couldn’t wait to dig in.

Sunlight greeted the two women through white sheer curtains—a fitting end to their vacation. They mulled over their time in Hiiumaa. Estonia owned a vacation home on the island and they had been eagerly preparing their return here since the previous summer. Rain unfortunately put a damper on the majority of the vacation. But they made do with what they had. They hardly get to spend time together alone as a couple so a simple date night with dinner and a movie was all they needed to reconnect.

But yesterday had been perfect. Throughout the conversation, Denmark caught herself daydreaming about their time on the beach. She loved how perfect the warm sand felt between her feet. They rented out a small boat that fit just the two of them and rowed along a small portion of the coastline, with Estonia serving as her personal tour guide. Later in the evening, they swapped their swimwear for casual summer dresses to have a date night at a nearby restaurant. The staff knew Estonia well and were given the best seats they could offer—far enough that the two could have a private night to themselves, but close enough that they could still enjoy the local bands perform on stage. They stayed until the doors closed at midnight and they walked home hand-in-hand under skies where the sun never truly sets.

If only every day could be like yesterday.

“I know we have to head back to Tallinn today but is there enough time for one more walk on the beach?”

“I don’t see why not,” Estonia replied as she finished off the last few sips of her coffee. “We don’t have to board the ship until noon so we have plenty of time. It won’t be as warm as it was yesterday though.”

“That’s okay. I have you to keep me warm!”

Denmark was grinning from ear to ear and all Estonia could do was roll her eyes.

“Aw c’mon. I thought that was a good line.”

It really wasn’t. But she would never admit that she liked Denmark’s cheesy lines. The novelty would wear off quickly if she were allowed to slip them into every conversation.

Denmark hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she noticed Estonia still had half a waffle left and some fruit scattered around the plate. Their conversation had gone cold but neither seemed to mind. Estonia loved the peace and quiet. Denmark, meanwhile, was fixated on the scenery outside. Through the curtains, she could see the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. She shut her eyes and let her mind take her back to the beach once again. The two of them were alone and walking across the soft sand, wearing the same outfits as they were now. Before she knew it, Estonia slipped from her grasp, removed her white sandals, and made a run towards the sea. She ran far enough for the water to rise above her ankles. She lifted her dress just above her knees and began gliding her left foot across the water. Denmark watched with wonder as excitement built in her chest. Her movements were like a hypnotic dance meant for her eyes only.

Bright blue eyes met Estonia’s aqua-coloured ones. Her smile was enough to make Denmark melt in the sand.

Don’t just stand there! Come join me! The water’s perfect.

The sound of her laughter was music to Denmark’s ears. She dashed towards the sea where Estonia’s hand was reaching out to her, waiting patiently for her touch. At the moment where their hands met, Denmark’s eyes flew open at the sound of her name being called out to her.

“Taani—” She felt Estonia’s arms wrap around her shoulders. For a brief moment, Denmark felt slightly disoriented. She hadn’t expected that daydream to leave such a strong impact on both her mind and her heart.

“You don’t want to go home, do you?”

Coming down from the high, Denmark grabbed a hold of Estonia’s right hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The action alone was all Estonia needed as an answer.

“This place is perfect. I wish I could stay here forever—with you.”

“We’ll be here again soon. Before we know it, it will be the end of July and we’ll be back here on vacation again, just like we planned.”

It wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to fly back to her home in the Copenhagen suburbs. She didn’t want to go to work where the paperwork piled high and meetings with leaders took up most of her day. She didn’t want the city life where the mornings and evenings felt empty.

No.

That way of life wasn’t for her. Denmark’s dream life was ripped from the pages of the novels she and Latvia gushed over. She wanted the country life with the big garden, the calm boat rides under the warm sun, the long drives to nowhere with the wind in her hair, and the early mornings and late nights where time stood still just for them.

She was tired of going home alone.

It was an unrealistic dream. But she wished it could be yesterday every day.

#APH Denmark #APH Estonia #HWS Denmark #HWS Estonia #DenEst #hetalia #nyotalia #apheeweek #Lilly's Writings

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dykelawlight · 2 months

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top 5 hairstyles u would put misa in

Oh love this especially because I know fuck all about fashion or women's haircuts. Anyway

1. Jellyfish cut! I just think this would be so cute on her

2. I feel like a wolf cut isn't THAT far from her canon hairstyle minus the pigtails? I think this would sort of push her edgy goth idol look and then when she goes jailed housewife mode she grows it out to look more like regular layers.

3. Misa is literally constantly wearing makeup and insane overwrought girly lingerie in the second arc even when she's at home completely alone and I want to see her in a lazy clipped-up messy bun and sweats NOW

4. I'm gonna be real with you bro I'm running out of ideas. My last suggestion is the Gerard Way Black Parade era white pixie cut when it was at its absolute whitest and pixiest. Just for fun. I think it could be good for her to stop having to maintain long hair for a little while.

#anyway I think that's all I got but thanks for the question sorry to shortchange you

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magisteramentia · 2 years

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Lustful Codex - The First Night

(Prev) (Next)

Jerome was already breathing heavily before the lights went out.

He threw everything he could inside his briefcase and his backpack.

Including the book.

But something fell to the floor and couldn’t see what it was, nor could he be bothered. He peered over the window; the car was out of the question. He could see the lights searching the inside. They were two women with pixie haircuts wearing black suits.

It was the last attempt at whatever they were searching for, whoever they were.

First, they broke into his home. He thought it was a simple break-in. He could not call the police, but it didn’t seem they had taken anything. Then it was his office that was trashed. And this was the closest he had seen them.

He crawled over the floor as flashlights approached, rushing through the classroom door that was connected to the lab.

His translations, research, and notes about the book were inside his laptop. He didn’t need anything else.

The university wasn’t safe anymore, not his house, not anywhere. He needed to find a place to lay low.

When the flashlights went into the lab, he heard them trash around. It was his opportunity to scurry away, sneaking through the corridors of the university.

His footsteps echoed through the halls, and someone took notice. A flashlight blinded him as he came out of the building.

“DON’T MOVE” the female voice boomed him to stop.

Jerome froze for a second, throwing his hands into the air.

But inside his mind, another Voice that was not his own echoed with a bellowing commanding. It yelled at him over the will of the woman in front of him.

RUN. It said.

And like breaking a window, he snapped out of the order, running faster than he had ever run in his life. The woman stood frozen for a second, trying to follow his trail.

But a mist rolled down over the campus.

Then she shot in the dark.

Jerome fell forward, over his computer. He heard it crash.

It was painful, almost as painful as the searing sting on his side.

Groaning, he pulled himself up and ran, his right hand applying pressure to the wound. He ran until he hit the metal fence that surrounded the university.

He was breathing hard, his vision was getting blurry, the flashlights were light, distant stars over the mist that miraculously allowed him to escape. He ran through the University gardens until he reached the street wall.

He felt energy leave his body as he rested his head against the metal bars. “Fuck.” He clutched the briefcase close to his chest.

“FUCK” He groaned loudly as his knees ceded and he stumbled forward.

He felt something searing hot against his chest and the alien Voice echoed once again.

CLIMB. It ordered him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, and with some effort, he pulled himself up using the metal bars.

He had never been athletic, sure he was tall and his friends had tried to make him join the basketball team, but he was an academic, a nerd. He never pictured himself doing anything other than reading books.

Somehow he had run the fastest in his life, and now his arms were pulling him upwards along a fence, despite a wound in his abdomen. Blood in his hands made him slip a little, but his other hand picked up, and he pulled himself up with one arm.

When he reached the top and saw how tall he had come, he got nervous.

JUMP. The Voice commanded.

And jump he did, scratching his leg with the spikes at the top, ripping his pants, and as he fell, he heard something pop.

But he did not feel pain.

RUN. The Voice came again.

His body barely responded, but he limped as best as he could, the mist engulfing the streets as he went ahead. He heard the screeching of car tires turn and go behind him over the street, leaving the campus.

Jerome kept limp-running in the opposite direction until he reached the suburbs.

The energy the Voice summoned out of him began fading as he walked a block, and then the next, and so did the mist. It was almost 1AM in the morning and he could hear the cars roaring around him.

Sirens blared, and he felt nervous once more. Freezing, he fell to one knee and hoped the mist worked its miracle once more.

HERE. The Voice felt softer this time. Less like a painful order and more of a pleasant relief.

Jerome turned right and followed the feeling in his mind. The fog dispersed, and he saw a suburban home with white painting, the kind he only saw in movies with the perfect lawn and a big porch. The lights were on.

He limped his way until he rested his not bloodied side against the wall.

HERE. The Voice was soft and pleasant, seductive.

He rang the bell.

No one answered.

He rang again. And again, and again, desperately.

He knocked on the door, resting his head against the frame.

Then the door opened.

A man in his 40’s with peppered black hair, wearing navy blue pajamas, opened the door. He had a bat in his hand.

“Raul, wait,” a voice said from behind him, pulling Raul back.

It was a woman in her 30’s, she was wearing a silk robe that clung perfectly to her body, and Jerome noted, nothing more.

“Denise, I don’t think-” But she pushed him aside and rushed to Jerome.

“Are you okay?” She said, helping him stand up.

“No.” He said earnestly.

Raul and the woman pulled him inside, closing the door behind them. Raul took a double look to the dissipating mist to see if there was anyone else waiting in the dark.

“Here,” the woman said and laid Jerome over the couch. Raul ran upstairs and came back down with a small medkit and was already pulling alcohol and gauze.

“What happened to you?” She asked, pouring alcohol over the wound on his leg.

The doorbell rang again.

Everyone froze.

Then a cold knock resounded over the wooden door.

No one made a sound.

“Good night” A female voice came from behind the door, Jerome recognized it, it was the same one that had ordered him to not move.

Jerome shrank in his place, trying to hide behind the couch.

“It’s okay,” Denise whispered. “I will take care of this.”

She stood up, her feet finding the pink slippers, and walking towards the door.

She partially opened the door, her husband stood behind her with the bat.

“Good night,” Denise said tentatively.

“Good night, Ma’am,” the woman said. “We are going around the neighborhood checking if everything is alright. There was an incident at the university, someone broke in and there was gunfire. I noticed you had the lights on. I was wondering if you heard anything or saw anything out of the ordinary?”

Jerome could see the woman trying to push her way inside the house, but she could not see him, or at least he hoped so.

Raul stepped forward and covered her field of vision.

“I am sorry no, I was working late, and we were just about to call it a night.” He said and tried to push the door closed, “if you don’t mind.”

The woman pushed her hand inside, holding the door open with force equal or stronger than the man.

“If you see anything-”

“I will call the police, of course. What is your badge number?” Denise said.

Eery silence filled the night, and Jerome could hear a smile on the woman’s voice.

“I am sorry, sir, Raul, right,” she said, disregarding Denise. “We are the neighborhood watch.”

She pulled out a business card. “If you hear anything, call us, please?” She said in a high pitch, a coquettish voice that made Jerome shiver in place.

Raul reached for it without thinking, but Denise reached for the card before he could even touch it. “Thank you. Good night!” She said and slammed the door shut.

“Bitch,” she muttered and crumpled the card before throwing it to the bin by the door.

Jerome relaxed as the couple approached. Raul’s arms were crossed, Denise knelt by his side and began to undress Jerome to clean his wound.

“Who are you?” Raul demanded.

“Jerome, Jerome Masters. I am a professor at the Arkham University down the road,” he groaned.

Denise poured alcohol over the wound.

“It looks like it went through. You will need to stay put for a while. You will take some antibiotics so it doesn’t get infected… but I am more worried about your leg…”

She motioned down.

“How did you get here?”

“Willpower?” Jerome said, ignoring the hungry Voice inside his head.

Denise smiled and flushed.

“Why are they looking for you?” Raul interjected.

Jerome snapped out of it.

“I don’t know. Maybe because of my research, but it is not exactly interesting. I mostly deal with ancient artifacts, and…”

Jerome felt his head light.

“… and… I don’t… I don’t think they say who they say they are…”

“You should rest,” Denise said, laying a hand over his leg. “We can continue in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Jerome said with a tired exhale.

“Raul, get him a glass of water, please, darling?” Denise pulled on his pajama pants, Raul exhaled and walked over to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of water and two ice cubes.

“Drink this,” Denise handed him a couple of pills, “It’s for the pain… tho you don’t seem to be in much”

“I feel numbness on my leg and my side, but besides that, I feel fine.” Jerome stretched, his body responded to him, but numbness spread through his muscles, his leg barely moved.

“Do you think you can stand up? We have a guest room upstairs,” Denise asked, her hand going up his leg.

Jerome gulped down the glass of water along with the pills and tried to stand up.

“I think… I think I can limp my way.” Jerome said, pushing himself off the couch.

“Raul, dear, help him out, would you?” Denise pleaded to her husband.

He nodded and helped Jerome, pulling his weight over his shoulder.

“You can lean on the railing, I will help you up,” Raul said. Jerome noticed that while he was cautious, he was also very kind.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jerome said, his voice almost a whisper.

“It’s okay. Denise has a good sense when judging people’s character. I trust her, and I will trust you.” He gave Jerome a tired smile.

Jerome nodded.

At the end of the stairs, Raul helped Jerome sit on the guest’s bed.

Denise came back with bandages, his backpack, and his suitcase. Carefully leaving them on the desk by the side of his bed, she proceeded to bandage his foot. After she finished, she pulled her husband by the hand and led him out of the room, Jerome was barely conscious but she spoke in a whisper, “If you need anything, we will be just around the corner,” she turned off the lights and added, “If we can, we will take you to a hospital tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Jerome exhaled as he passed out from exhaustion.

That night Jerome didn’t dream. And in the following days and weeks, he would wish that it stayed that way.

As morning came and the sun woke him up, he felt like he had barely slept. His muscles were sore, his leg throbbed in pain, and his side…

His side didn’t hurt much.

“The medication should be doing its job”, he mumbled to himself. He rose up and noticed there was a cane by the side of his bed.

He looked around. It was a simple and mostly empty room, white with a window looking out to the suburban garden, a small cabinet, the desk and chair, where Denise had placed a glass of water, his belongings; and a standing mirror on the other side of the room.

Reaching for the desk and his backpack, Jerome took out the broken laptop. He sighed and placed it to the side. He rummaged inside to find what else he salvaged the previous night. There was Olivia’s notebook, filled with his own post-its and scattered notes.

Then he opened the briefcase. There it was.

The book.

He sighed in relief and chuckled. Was this so important? He caressed the leather cover that protected the yellowed and ancient pages.

There was a knock at the door. Looking up, he saw Denise standing by the door. She was carrying a tray with eggs, strawberries, orange juice, and toast. “Good Morning,” she said chirpily, “May I come in?”

Jerome nodded. He gave her a tired smile and left the book on the desk. “Good morning,” his voice came out raspy and he coughed but motioned her to come inside.

Denise rushed inside and left the tray by the desk. She handed him a glass of water. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Jerome said, his voice still raspy. He looked up at his host. The young wife’s eyes were brown and bright, filled with worry. She was wearing an old oversized heavy-metal concert t-shirt and sweatpants that fit her loosely. She was wearing her hair tied in a ponytail.

He coughed again, and felt his voice a bit different, deeper. “But alive, thanks to you.”

She gave him a sad, forced smile and grimaced once she noticed the state of the laptop.

Denise sat on the chair by the desk and handed the plate to Jerome.

“Where is Raul?” He asked.

“He just left for work. He works for a bank. His company created the app and system they use.” She said.

“And you?”

“I am a nurse in a small clinic not far from here. I called in sick. The doctor is very kind and told me to take a few days off. He doesn’t want me to brink any virus that might make things worse for the patients.”

Jerome took a bite from the toast, “Thanks, sorry you had to lie,”

“It wasn’t a lie,” she faked a cough, “See?” she said with a smile. There were shadows beneath her eyes. She had barely slept last night.

Denise reached for his hand. “I wanted to take you to the clinic, but the people from last night are still making rounds around the neighborhood,” she said somberly. “You will have to stay here for a while.”

Jerome gulped down a bite.

“Sorry for all the trouble I’m causing.” He held her hand. He was shaking.

“It’s fine. It is our duty to help people in need.” She said reassuringly.

“Why are they after you?” Her concern was visible in her tired face. “they are not police and I had never seen them. Who are they?”

“I don’t know. I’m a simple professor of ancient languages in the university. I don’t… I mean, why would anyone want a fake old book?”

Jerome reached for The Book and waved it like nothing.

“Fake?”

“It has to be fake, a sort of joke. A colleague of mine found it in a wooden box with runes beneath a Mayan pyramid.”

He opened the leather book.

Denise listened attentively, getting closer. Her hand slid over his knee.

“But it is leather-bound, as in cow-hide, and it’s written in runes, but the runes don’t make sense unless you are speaking Mayan. It has taken a lot of my time and concentration to decipher it.”

Denise’s hand slid over his leg. Jerome had her undivided attention. She leaned closer.

“It is like someone made a mess of various ancient languages from different cultures, more like a language anthropologist would challenge another than actual history.”

Her hand moved up his thigh.

He coughed as he felt her touch, but didn’t stop his excited rant.

“And then there is the box, which is in runes, but it’s written with an archaic syntax. And …”

He remembered how Olivia had disappeared. He closed the book.

Jerome looked up. Denise’s hand was over his hip. He could see the woman’s face blushing, the Voice in his head spoke softly. He could reach to her, touch the back of her neck, and kiss her. She wouldn’t resist.

Her lips were pink, and she was breathing heavily. Denise bit her lower lip.

Jerome coughed and touched her hand, pulling it off and placing it on the bed.

“And this must be incredibly boring.” He said with a gulp before reaching for the glass of water.

“No, not at all. It is fascinating.” She said, sitting on the bed.

“Anyway,” He said, placing the book on the bed between the two of them. “The carbon data says both the box and the book are pre-Columbian. And that is just… how?”

“A true ancient history mystery.” She giggled.

Jerome smiled, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t aliens?” She said mockingly.

He laughed.

“Right, or maybe it’s cursed.” She picked up the book and placed it on the desk.

Both of them laughed.

“Or maybe it is the Necronomicon,” Denise added between laughs. She was getting closer.

Laughter was nice after all that happened, but it was also painful. Jerome winced and hugged his side.

“Are you okay?” Denise asked. She reached and touched his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s just the wound from last night,”

She got up from the bed and took the plates with her. “Wait just a moment, I will be back to change your bandages.”

Jerome exhaled and chuckled. He laid down on the bed and reached for the book. “Yeah right, like a mystery novel,” he said in a soft voice, thinking of how people were outside waiting for him to steal whatever this book was.

He hugged the book.

Denise came back soon after and he sat back, leaving the book to his side on the bed. Slowly, the young nurse took the bloodied bandages off his body.

Jerome winced a little as the pressure against his abdomen subsided. After she was done, she took a clean rag and cleaned around the wound.

“That’s odd,” she said as she coated the wound with alcohol. “The wound is not as big as I thought last night.”

Denise got closer, examining his abdomen. She giggled nervously, “you heal very fast,” her fingers touched around the wound, “very fast,” she repeated.

She applied the new bandages around his abdomen, her hands guiding the cloth against his skin. Jerome held back a moan, and she tried to dismiss it.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. He felt her hands slide up to his chest. Her touch was warm on his naked skin. She finished bandaging him, but her fingers slid down his abdomen. She felt her fingertips on the rim of his pants, on his hips.

“Uhm, Denise?” Jerome said stiffly, opening his eyes.

The young wife’s voice was low and almost a growl. He felt her nails scratching his skin as she pulled down his pants.

“Denise?” he said a bit louder.

“I am looking for any other wounds or bruises I may have not seen last night,” her voice was close. He could smell her perfume, it smelled of summer, like strawberries and…

Jerome touched the back of her neck. Moaning softly, Denise froze in place. She blinked several times, as if she suddenly realized what she was doing, or was about to do.

Slowly, she sat back. Her hands let go of his pants, but her fingers slid over his legs. She was still breathing heavily and blushing.

“Everything seems fine,” Denise said, getting up from the bed. She was talking fast, “I mean, besides the bullet wound and the sprained leg.”

“I will check that out later. I need to run some errands and prepare lunch and dinner. See you later. Get well, bye.”

She took the bandages and alcohol and rushed out of the room and closed the door behind herself.

Jerome breathed out and closed his eyes.

He could feel the blood pumping away from his head and rushing between his legs. He groaned in frustration.

“Keep it together, man,” he told himself. “I barely survived being hunted, and I am already fantasizing about a married woman.” He covered his eyes with his arm and felt his erection straining against his pants.

“Fuck!” he groaned and tried to calm down.

——-

Denise ran out of the room and towards the bathroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, letting everything she was carrying fall to the floor as she slid down.

“Fuck,” she groaned.

She felt hot. She felt horny.

She couldn’t believe what she almost did with Jerome. He was hurting.

She was married.

“Fuck,” she moaned taking off her t-shirt. It felt constraining. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Why wasn’t she wearing a bra underneath? Her nipples were hard. Did he notice?

“Fuuuck.” Denise pulled on them. She couldn’t calm down.

Her other hand slid off her sweatpants and panties in a single motion, throwing them to the side.

Her right hand slid down between her legs.

She thought of Jerome’s chest.

“Fuck!” she moaned and touched her clit, pulling a single strand of lube from between her legs. She could not believe how wet she was, she almost…

Her finger slid against her clit. Rubbing slowly.

She almost…

She thought of pulling down Jerome’s pants.

Almost…

Mindlessly, two fingers slid inside her pussy. Reaching inside as her left hand pulled her hardened nipple.

She moaned, biting her lips.

Almost…

She thought of his cock straining against his pants.

Her fingers pressed into her g-spot, rubbing. Her other hand pinched her nipples.

Almost…

The memory of his skin live on her mind, her hands against his body, his naked chest.

She opened her mouth, just like she did back in the room, a desire to taste him, to slide her hands below his belt and feel…

Inside…

Almost…

Her fingers went deeper inside her. Feel his…

Then she thought of Raul.

She stopped.

“Fuck!” She banged the back of her head against the door.

She almost came.

“Fuck,” she repeated, groaning with frustration.

Denise pulled her hand away from her pussy. She felt like a live wire. Needy, desperate.

Breathing deeply, Denise tried to calm down.

She didn’t even know what she almost did, but it was certainly unprofessional and… improper.

And still, the image of Jerome’s member straining against his pants burned inside her mind.

She stared at her hand, glistening wet with her juices.

What does he taste like? A soft and hungry Voice in her head echoed with curiosity.

Denise opened her mouth. Without thinking, she brought her hand to her lips. Slowly licking her fingers clean. Tasting herself. Imagining what he would taste like.

“Jerome.” she moaned without thinking.

Denise turned red and closed her legs, pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“I need a cold shower,” she told herself as she jumped up, leaving her clothes on the floor and trying to think of anything else. Lunch. Raul. Anything.

But the Voice inside her echoed a single word that made her quiver in heat and fear. Softly, it whispered, “Master.”

———

If you want to support my writing habit you can join my Patreon where you can get ahead and read more stories at https://patreon.com/magisteramentia. Or you can invite me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/magisteramentia

#magister amentia #magisteramentia #hypnokink #mind control #brainwashing #the lustful codex #lustful codex #hypnosis

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juliehairstyles · 4 months

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Short haircuts

Certainly! There are many stylish short haircuts that look fantastic on black women. Here are some popular short hairstyles: See blonde hair

Pixie Cut:

A classic short cut with closely cropped sides and back, leaving a bit more length on top. It can be customized with textured or tapered sides.

Tapered Cut:

This style features shorter hair at the nape and gradually increases in length as it goes up. It provides a neat and sophisticated look.

Frohawk:

A Mohawk-inspired style for natural hair, where the sides are shaved or tapered, and the center is left in a curly or braided 'fro.

Fade Cut:

A fade involves a gradual length change from the top of the head down to the neck, creating a clean and stylish look.

Big Chop:

Embracing natural texture by doing the "big chop" involves cutting off chemically treated or damaged hair to reveal your natural curls.

Bob Cut:

A short bob can be a chic and timeless option, with variations like the asymmetrical bob or the blunt bob.

Short Braids or Twists:

Opt for short braids or twists for a low-maintenance and stylish look that showcases your natural texture.

Finger Waves:

A retro and glamorous style that involves creating S-shaped waves with your fingers, often worn close to the head.

Cropped Afro:

Keep your natural curls short for a bold and confident look. You can customize the length to suit your preferences.

Curly Mohawk:

Combine the edginess of a Mohawk with the beauty of natural curls for a bold and unique style.

#short haircuts

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olivando · 1 year

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Hair Matters

A somewhat silly tale of the time I almost had an anxiety attack at a tube station because of a haircut.

Hair is a potent signifier of health, status, style. It frames our faces, hides and reveals us. It can be a vehicle for self expression as much as a source of profound anxiety, which is especially true for cis women and queer folk. I'm no exception.

In her video about alopecia, Jen Campbell talks about hair loss in the context of chronic illness. Even though she never liked it much to begin with, and has many more pressing symptoms to contend with, societal equating of hair with beauty prompted her to reflect on the topic. Embarrassing as it is to admit, one of my main motivators to seek treatment for my anemia was the fact that my hair was falling off at an alarming rate. Like many trans men before and after me, I worry about what testosterone will do to my hairline. Mind you, it is not the main concern... but it's there, in the back of my mind.

I started dyeing my hair young. As a teen, I took full advantage of summers to experiment with length at color. I was daring: pink, purple, red, black, two-tone, wavy, straight, layered, anything that I thought might look cool. I have no idea why, but as a child I wished I had been born a wavy-haired redhead, so as a young adult I lived that fantasy. No regrets!

For all my boldness, there was one style I always coveted but had never dared try: "boy" short. The reason? Fatphobia. Unlike AMAB people, for whom short hair is commonly the default, AFAB people are told that we need to have the "right" face for a short haircut. "Right" meaning slim and angular, of course.

The day I finally took the plunge was the day I first came out as non-binary (story for another day). I was on the chair, waiting and texting. It took longer because my original hairdresser didn't know how to do short, so her colleague, who happened to be her mom, took over. She did a beautiful job, and oh, how the style suited me! Still, that was a "women's" pixie haircut; as per a friend's suggestion, I used Anne Hathaway as a reference.

After that, short hair became my new normal.

And yet, as with public restrooms (another post pending), haircuts became a minefield. Men's are cheaper (unfair, but especially unfair if you are getting the same haircut), so it makes sense to ask for that. However, many co-ed hair salons will still lead me to the women's section, where even hairdressers who do short styles tend to do feminizing cuts or are reticent to go ham with the clippers.

One day, because I wasn't fully satisfied with my previous haircut, I decided to try a fancy salon near my workplace which a friend had told me was trans-friendly. They had no appointments for the day, but they suggested their barber place a few blocks away, where, for obvious reasons, there were more staff that could do what I needed.

I walked there after work. It was very busy, full of stylish men chatting on the chairs, cutting hair, trimming beards, on their phones in the waiting area. It was exactly the kind of space I was drawn to as a kid, only to be shut off from as soon as puberty hit. Was I really gonna go there and sit for however long the cut took, listening to their talk, too uncomfortable to speak because of my voice (yet another post to come!)? Cue the anxiety attack.

I ran into the station's bookshop. Looked at the books. I breathed in, out, willing myself to stay calm and understand why a stupid haircut was causing me such distress.

What am I afraid of?

Honestly? that they would say "sorry, this is for men's only." This would not only make me feel bad, it would also put me in the position of either having to correct them, or look down, say "alright, then," and leave a coward. Had I chosen the latter, I would have been so disappointed in myself.

I want to be brave, always. For me, and for others.

So I went in and asked if they had slots for walk-ins. They did in an hour's time, an hour I didn't have as I had a ticketed event to attend. Such stress, for nought! Still, I'm glad I asked.

I ended getting my haircut at the same place where I went to cut my hair the day I first came out. This time, though, I asked for a men's cut. The hairdresser was a butch Brazilian who clearly thought I played for her home team. It was a good time, and my hair looks great.

I still want to try going to a dedicated barbershop sometime. I know there are plenty of openly queer places like that, and will look into those. However, it is important to me that I feel able to walk into any hair salon or barbershop, looking how I look, and ask for a haircut. If they say no? That's on them.

(In lieu of an epilogue, I wish to clarify that I would absolutely grow out my hair again in the future. I love experimenting with it! But being honest, I wouldn't do it until I've transitioned further—more on this later.)

#journal #trans #trans man #queer #lgbtq community #lgbtq #memoir

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reinacrbers · 1 year

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Chic Big Chop Short Haircuts for Black Women 2022 Home&Women

Chic Big Chop Short Haircuts for Black Women 2022 Home&Women #short #tenuedujour #jean #hairstyles #hairfashion #hairdo #hairoftheday #instahair #hairofinstagram #haircolor #hairdye #haircolour #hairideas #coolhair #braid #haircut #hairstyle #curly #longhair #perfectcurls #straighthair #hairstylist #straight #braidideas #brown #hairvideos #longhairdontcare #hairvideo #hairtutorial…

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isabellesfashionunit2 · 1 year

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1960s

Twiggy was an extremely successful model in the 1960s who still to this day continues to have an influence on our current styles. She was a fashion icon and by the time she was 17, she was already featured on covers such as Vouge and Tatler.

In the 1960s, she wore the shift dresses. A shift dress is a dress where the cloth on it falls straight down from the shoulders instead of fitting like a sheath dress. The shift dress is very comfortable and moves around with you (shifts with your body). Alongside Twiggy’s short hair, this dress added to the boyish style by hiding the women’s frame. Twiggy played a huge part in women dressing more masculine being so normal now by wearing men’s hats with her miniskirts and fishnet tights or thick ties with waistcoats. She was also often seen styling a pair of loafers with her everyday looks. She also joined a movement where she wore light camisoles instead of bras.

Twiggy is well known for her pixie haircut, however she revealed that she did not get it intentionally. At the age of 16, she made an appointment for a simple shampoo and set, however the owner of the salon asked if he could give her his new haircut and although Twiggy did not want the haircut, she was too shy to refuse. Despite being hesitant, she ended up loving the style. After the haircut was complete, the salon owner asked a photographer to take the iconic black and white portraits, which launched her modelling career.

In 1967, Twiggy launched ‘the Twiggy Look Collection’ which made it possible for the everyday women to adopt her unique style. Twiggy creating this collection made it possible for women to wear this style in the 1960s.

Mobile Styles. (2020). How Twiggy changed the world of fashion. [Online]. Mobile Styles. Last Updated: 20 October. Available at: https://mobilestyles.com/blog/posts/show/861-how-twiggy-changed-the-world-of-fashion [Accessed 31 January 2023].

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femalehairstylesideas · 2 years

Video

youtube

56 Women’s Undercut Hairstyles to Make a Real Statement | Sexy Undercut Hairstyles For Girls Undercut | Undercut Hairstyle | Undercut Hairstyle Women | Undercut Haircut | Hairstyle | Undercut Women | Undercut Hairstyles For Women | Undercut Haircut Women | Women Undercut | Undercut For Women | Womens Undercut | Bob Undercut | Undercut Hairstyles | Undercut Hairstyles For Women | Sexy Undercut Hairstyles For Women | Undercut Hairstyles For Black Women | Undercut Pixie Hairstyles | Undercut Hairstyle Woman | Haircut | Disconnected Undercut | Sexy Undercut Hairstyles For Girls #haircut #undercuthairstyle #undercuthairstylewomen ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Remark: All Images Shown In This Video Are Taken From The Net , And Are In No Way The Property Of This YouTube Channel. Thank You For Your Comprehension And Collaboration ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- @Hairzy YouTube channel does not promote any illegal content or encourage any type of illegal activity. All content provided by @Hairzy is intended exclusively for educational and informational purposes. The owner, administrator, author and publisher of this YouTube channel, @Hairzy, have no responsibility for the content of this video. #hairstyles #haircut #hair #hairzy by Hairzy

#hairstyles #haircuts #hair

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tonkivideo · 2 years

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My scanner wont work

#My scanner wont work full

Source: rambutbob You can disguise your round-shaped face perfectly when you have a rounded bob like this! No need to worry about this hairdo not suiting you either, fine hair texture will counter any effect just fine. 3- CLASSIC BOB, WITH FINE HAIR ENDS THAT SOFTEN YOUR ROUND FACE SHAPEFine hair will curve around your face in a way that will frame your face perfectly without appearing like it's too thick. This can have a slimming effect on the rest of your body, so it might be worth trying if you don't like what you see. The Box Bob haircut is good for making your face slimmer and lengthening your neck. The loose curls with bangs.Get this cut with waves and a side parting, which will suit round faces. Face shape: round, oval | Hair type: fine to medium. Our expert edit of the best bob hairstyles for every face shape and hair type. Chin-Length Bob Hairstyle With Bangs For Chubby Faces. You will find it easy and interesting to style your hair. Below are the best bob hairstyles for round faces. It creates a gorgeous juxtaposition of sharp angles with the soft, round curves and contours of your face.The bob hairstyle comes in different sizes, some short stylish sizes while others can appear medium and long. The chin length look calls attention to your jaw and defines your bone structure. A bob is definitely the best hairstyle for round faces, in addition to being wonderfully trendy.

20 Best Haircuts for Women with Round Shaped Faces.

One of the best short hairstyles for round faces and thin hair is an expertly cut bob that frames your face and gives the illusion of fullness to your strands. Pro tip: Rub and rake a dab of hair paste, like. A choppy cut like Viola Davis's quite literally cuts the face in half, giving you the appearance of a heart-shaped face.

#My scanner wont work full

The brown and burgundy hair hues add spice to the cut.12 Pixie With Full Bangs. There's a shorter straight underlayer and a wavy and messy top layer, cut choppy and uneven to enhance the fullness of the shape. Fabulous for curly hair and for thick hair alike, this medium, wavy cut is sexiness personified. With short length at back, the look adds charm and elegance to your face. Inverted bob is also one of the finest bobs for round face. Asymmetric is one of the most ravishing bobs for round faces. This is another funky look that you can go for in order to make yourself attractive. Messy Jet-Black Curls15.) Asymmetric Bob. It's a shape that's sweet and fun without being too childish. A combover side part creates additional volume up top, which can be helpful for fine hair. In this picture they are cut just beneath the chin. Emma Stone, Lily Collins, and Selena Gomez kill the cut.The right bob haircuts for round faces need to have proper face-framing layers. A-line bobs also work very well for round face shape. Leave full bangs and center parts alone, as they give fullness to an already full face. It helps to hide the width of the face while slimming. This middle-parted fluffy, short look is perfect for that.Flattering hairstyles: Slightly longer bob with added volume is the best option for round faces. Instead, you can focus on the face and hair as separate entities. Short hairstyles for women over 50 with round face shapes are great, as they stop your hair framing your hair and accentuating your face too much. And the tumbling, voluminous curls on top bring additional height that gives the face a more lengthened oval shape. Since the hair hits above the chin, it makes the face look lengthened by comparison. A short bob that hits above the chin in front is a great choice for round faces. Short Haircuts for Fine Hair and Round Faces. As the name suggests, this bob features an A-like angle that goes from short in the back to longer in the front. Another bob hairstyle that does a brilliant job of outlining a round face is an A-line bob. A little layering done just right goes a long way to create some roundness and fullness. The bob works best for my hair - fine and straight.

#My scanner wont work

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wintswag · 2 years

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One color hair ideas

#ONE COLOR HAIR IDEAS SKIN#

Without further ado, find 22 stunning shades of brown hair - based on skin tone - to consider next time you're in the mood for a color boost. They just work, and there's no doubt their colorists remind them of that every time they come in for a touch up. The edgy undercut adds angles and definition, while the longer, softly styled bangs keep it looking feminine. Not only is the combo of hot pink and purple perfectly blended to create an ultra violet finish, but the modern cut works with the color seamlessly. Think about it: There's a reason your favorite brown-haired babes like Kendall Jenner, Jessica Alba, and Kerry Washington have stayed loyal to their signature shades for years. This short haircut and color are a real head-turner. "Most of these celebrities are within two shades of their natural color, whether it's a tiny bit lighter or darker." Next time you head to the salon, talk to your colorist about which brunette hues will work best with your skin tone, seeing as some colors can work to enhance your complexion, while others could potentially wash you out. "It's about enhancing, not extremes," she says. According to colorist Marie Robinson, whose clients include Natalie Portman and Anne Hathaway, the best shades of brown and black right now are natural - kicked up a notch. This style blends various shades of blue to create one impactful hairstyle.Think blondes have more fun? Check out these sultry brunettes and think again. Shades of Blue Go blue or go home.įinally, consider a spectrum of one particular hair color. Handpick the exact shades you want to include but remember that hair color will show up in different ways depending on how well your hair lifts at the beginning of the process! 5. Why stop at one color when you can include the whole rainbow? This is a classic style and we love how edgy and unique it is. Rainbow Highlights Why stop at one color? Talk to your stylist about upkeep before you take the plunge! 4. This shade of hair color does require a lot of upkeep – especially when created on a dark base as shown here. This all-over hue has been applied evenly to an entire section of hair underneath the top layers. If you want to add some sparkle to your hairstyle, consider this shimmery shade of silver. Pop of Silver This shimmery pop of silver perfectly complements dark hair. The stylist then carefully curled and styled the hair so the beautiful sunset shades would come through! This hair trend depends a lot on styling and creating a color pattern that can either be hidden or brought out depending on the circumstances. Short Curly Hair Complement this fierce party hairstyle with an equally fierce and sexy makeup. Get a pixie cut to go with this gorgeous hair color, and you’ll fall in love with how fresh you look afterwards. This color suits women with pale or fair skin. Notice how the hue has been applied to the bottom of the section of hair. Combine red and a bit of orange, and you get ginger hair. Pinks, oranges, and blonde strands blend together to create this peek-a-boo moment. We can’t get enough of this beautiful blend of sunset shades. Sunset Hues These sunset hues are what hair dreams are made of. This duo will keep your style as fresh as the day you went to the salon. This means that when the hair is worn down, the bold colors will be completely hidden! Keep your fresh hair color vivid and bright by washing and conditioning with Suave Vivid Color Shampoo and Conditioner. Notice how the color extends from below one ear across the head to the other ear. This blend is the perfect way to play with bright and bold hues in a more contained way. This tie-dye pattern is a complex and fun pattern that sits neatly tucked into the bottom section of hair. For Color-Treated Hair Suave Vivid Color Conditioner

#One color hair ideas

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trustcentric · 2 years

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Low maintenance mens short haircuts

#Low maintenance mens short haircuts full

Just dont go too long if you notice thinning. Even short hair can benefit from texture. The quiff remains a fashionable sleek hairstyle choice for any style-savvy guy. So if youre planning to grow your hair this long you must know that you will have to invest in quality hair products. A layered short hair for women over 60 consists of disconnected layers and an undone style. Opt for a pixie thats edgy and low maintenance but fun for all ages.īuzz Cut With Quick Fade. It was first created by the famous barber Paul McGregor. The best thing about this is its low-maintenance and easy to style. The cons of short shag haircuts like this are that its not a wash-and-go kind of look. Shaggy short haircuts are beneficial for girls who dont mind taking a little bit of time to get their style just right every day. Show some more love to your curls with short curly hairstyles for men that let you show off their beauty to. Pixie hair is quite short which means that it may take you several months to grow out of it. We review the top mens faded hairstyles for short medium and long haircuts. 38 Flattering Short Haircuts for Older Women in 2022.Īlso washing and brushing your curls can be quite challenging. A taper fade adds just the perfect amount of style and boosts even the simplest of hairstyles. This long wavy hair for men requires a lot of attention. This article will detail 40 angled bob cuts and give you insight as to why they are so hot and popular. Its short enough that its low maintenance but theres enough hair to style. A Classic Military Cut for Men Find your unique easy-to-maintain style to look fresh. To inspire you with ideas weve compiled a list of the best short haircuts for men. Blunt cut for added volume and style up backward for added height.

#Low maintenance mens short haircuts full

Growing a full beard creates a divergence look as it stands out from your.įrom classic to modern styles explore these popular mens hairstyles to find short cuts and styles youll love. Angled bobs are the most versatile of all haircuts. One of the low-maintenance haircuts for black men featuring a hook part from the front lineup cut. Like all curly gals the hair needs moisture. This curly wavy hair is a universal look for many curly girls. The rugged messy top hair is kept short for low-maintenance leaving a stylish yet respectable look.įun Short Layered Bob for Older Ladies. Check our list of short and long bobs with layers and layered bobs with bangs to choose your next awesome style. A Classic Military Cut for Men Find your unique easy-to. It makes hair look fuller and can camouflage thinning a little bit says Rodney Cutler founder of the New York-based Cutler Salon. In shag haircuts the layers are generally done at the top and sides. Best hairstyles for black men Haircuts Low Fades comment below on which style your gong for. You could add bangs a few shorter layers or leave the front a little longer and it will still have that great shape to it. When looking for short hairstyles consider opting for a low-maintenance spiky pixie for 60-year-old women. This popular short shag is low-maintenance blonde hair. Super short shaggy haircuts are great for women with strong. Stylist Jessica Morgan from Tucson AZ is behind this Miley Cyrus look.Ĥ0 Of The Best Haircuts For Men Over 40 The hairstyle is a fun and sassy cut that is low maintenance with a lot of styling options.

#Low maintenance mens short haircuts

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