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hey-hamlet · 4 years

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‘BANHA’ Fic

aka, my friend who hasn’t watched bnha got really pissed when I told her about Bakugo and Izuku’s old middle school. So pissed, in fact, that she wrote almost 3000 words of a character created solely for this purpose beating the tar out of Bakugo.

Shes my idol.

(I edited the names for spelling and edited the dialogue for speech patterns in exactly two scenes. See if you can pick all 3 edited lines)

“Happy birthday Arlea!” Arlea Hunter started from where she was sitting and chewing on cereal like it was going out of style. Aunty Chitose placed a small cake on the table by Arlea’s bowl, a single candle on top, she gave her a bright smile.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to get me anything,” Arlea said, looking at the cake, it looked delicious. With white frosting that was layered thickly and the words ‘Happy birthday’ scrawled in purple icing. Arlea blew out the candle. Putting her hands together. Squeezing her eyes shut to make a wish. Her Aunty ruffled her hair.

“What are you saying? Of course I’d get you a cake, although it’s a bit little, you can’t share it with your friends.” She said.

“It’s ok, I wouldn’t want to share it either way.” Arlea pointed out. “Except for you of course,” she added, standing to pick up the knife from the counter. proceeding to cut it into quarters.

“Oh, thank you very much, and I’m going to eat three pieces then?” she asked.

“Alright fine, Uncle Hideki and Hanabi can have some too.”

“You two will have to pack it then, since you’re almost late for school.” My aunt pointed out, moving back to the kitchen. Arlea glanced at the clock and almost swore. Scrambling to pick up her lunchbox and carefully pack the cake.

“Hanabi come on down! There’s cake here for you!” Arlea’s Aunt called. it was accompanied by the sounds of frantic footsteps. Eventually Hanabi made it down the stairs, with school bag in hand and her blonde streaked brown hair bouncing around her heart-shaped face. The little princess of the family, with sharp bright blue eyes and a killer smile. Arlea really took time to reflect how different their families were.

Her cousin was a year younger than her, and had an outgoing happy personality, cute sized, whereas Arlea was willowy, with straight drab hair that looked almost black, black eyes. and while she had a quirk of an infectious smile. Arlea’s dove wings wasn’t exactly as useful. It’s not as if she could use them. she reflected ruefully

“Thanks mum!” Hanabi squealed, sitting at the table. “Not now, pack it or we will be late.” Arlea commented. Hanabi glancing at the clock and jumping up again.

“I can’t be late today! I promised Haru I’d help her paint one of the school festival posters.” Hanabi grabbed her back and bolted for the doorway. Arlea shifted past, letting the girl go past her without knocking both of them over. She turned back and packed the second piece for Hanabi, placing both lunchboxes in her bag. She was used to her airheaded cousin forgetting things, and definitely loved her for it. Hanabi made Arlea feel good and reliable. Isn’t that a sad realisation? She mused. heading out the door at an angle and calling her goodbyes to her aunt.

“Come on! move those wings, if we’re late I’m blaming you!” Hanabi called, she grinned at Arlea without any malice. Setting a brisk pace along the sidewalk. Arlea caught up easily, she was taller than her cousin by a couple centimetres. Arlea wasn’t exactly new to Japan, her mum had been from here, and she’d been born here. but growing up in a different culture entirely, and coming back at the age of 15, 12 years later was an… experience.

Specifically the school life, ending up going to Aldera middle school wasn’t exactly fun. It wasn’t a great school, but her area wasn’t a great area, and it would be expensive to send two near-high schoolers to a private school. Public schools weren’t a problem though, after all, if Arlea could survive a public school in Woodridge Australia, she could survive anything.

The school gates loomed ahead and Hanabi called out to her friend Haru. A small girl with curly dark hair, glasses, and a shy personality. Haru smiled, waving at us both.

“Good morning Hanabi, Senpai!” she greeted. Arlea gave her a smile, Hanabi was already dragging her off however.

“I’ll see you at lunch!” She called back. Arlea gave a little snort, unlikely, until she figured out Arlea had her lunch. She didn’t blame her cousin. They had only gotten closer over the past year Arlea had been here, but that probably wasn’t entirely by choice. It’s been a year since Arlea’s mother died, and she had to move to this second-rate school. At least she could get into a better high school.

She was sitting with her friends when Hanabi came running over. A slightly panicked look on her face. I smiled at her.

“Forget your lunch today?” Arlea asked her as she reached where Arlea and her friends were eating lunch, a small little side-hall that was open enough to have cool air come through and bright enough for a nice atmosphere. But as she drew closer Arlea’s smile fell. She looked absolutely terrified. Pale faced, on the verge of tears.

“The- that kid in your grade! They’re… beating him up.” She said between sobbing breaths. Hanabi reached her too. She was crying.

“That’s Deku, leave him be, it happens.” One of Arlea’s friends commented. Hanabi cousin looked at him, her face starting to get blotchy as the redness of running took over her straight panic.

“They look like they’re beating him to death! They’re not stopping!” Hanabi rushed out. Arlea looked at her, then stood up.

“Where are the teachers?” Arlea’s friends watched her silently, a few of them staring at their lunches, but no longer eating them. There was something wrong about this situation, sure people were bullied in Australia, but it tended to stop once a teacher was in view.

“They’re just watching!” Hanabi half-shouted. Arlea turned an accusing eye on her friends. Seeing no support on the kid’s side. no cry of outrage.

“Where?” She asked seriously, ignoring the slight shake of her friend Satoru’s head. Hanabi took off though, and Arlea went after her. Haru following them from behind. Taking a couple shortcuts through empty classrooms Arlea could see where people were gathered on the second floor above one of the yards, staring down at the commotion. Hanabi was slowing down. Arlea slid to a stop next to the furthest student, hearing someone shouting.

“I’m doing you a favour Deku, you’re better off dead than quirkless!” The voice below called up, loud enough to be heard from here. Arlea felt a cold snap of rage, gripping the windowsill she jumped up, Hanabi turned back, calling her name. Arlea leapt out, aiming for Bakugo. One of the popular kids in her grade. He had a cascade of sparks, ready to use it on the kid that was already bleeding from most of his face. His shoulder looked dislocated too, he looked up at Arlea through one eye, the other puffed shut, his lip was broken and bleeding, and he had a serious burn mark on the right side of his neck.

Arlea heard movement and turned her attention. Bakugo stood up, disorientated, Arlea looked at him, gripping her hands into fists, temper, temper. If she lost it now the teachers might actually do something.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” one of the ones holding the boy asked. she turned on him.

“Let him go, or I’ll cut off your creepy salad fingers.” Arlea said. he let the boy go, he crumpled to the ground.

“Get lost, or I’ll give you the same to you, shithead.” Bakugo replied coldly, walking over threateningly. Arlea looked at his face, altogether much too perfect, maybe a broken tooth might teach him a lesson. She decided. He reached her and she rounded a hit on him before he could see the fist coming. The wet slap of her flesh against his face satisfyingly echoing in the semi-empty yard.

“Bakugo!” Someone called from behind, Arlea turned as one of the less active of the bullies ran at her. She gave a cold laugh, before leaping on him, wings outspread in a terrible arch as she twisted into the air, bringing the entire force of her body and slamming into him.

“That’s enough!” someone shouted, Arlea stood, the bullies standing back as a teacher walked this way.

“Oh, is it? And was it enough when they were beating this kid in front of you? Or are you so piss-poor at your own fucing job you couldn’t be bothered actually interfering?” Arlea shouted at him. She stuttered through the Japanese, not exactly fluent, but good enough that the meaning came across strong. The teacher went red faced, walking this way in angry strides, Arlea looked at him, temper ticking so close to being officially lost.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you off for this one, but you’re going to detention for this-“ The teacher stated. He grabbed Arlea’s wrist.

“For what? doing your job for you?” she asked. The teacher turned to look at her.

“How dare you.” the teacher hissed.

“The fuck is wrong with you, why would you waste all your breath on a quirkless bastard?” it was Bakugo again. Temper officially lost. With a swipe, she took the teacher’s legs out from under him, before turning on Bakugo, he put his arms up in defence, seeing the attack this time but not counting on the amount of force behind it, people never did. But wings were extra body mass, no matter how hollow the bones. The two of them fell.

There was only a short scramble, before Arlea was sitting on his chest, hands wrapped tightly around his throat. His eyes bulged. Gripping her wrists, trying to ease the pressure.

“Unfortunately for you, my mother happened to be quirkless. She’s gone; because of scum like you.” Arlea said, a smile on her face as she strangled the boy. “Call this your official warning, if you ever mention that little quirkless thing again, you or any of your little boys. I’m going to hunt you down, slit your throat from ear to ear, and watch you bleed out with a smile on my face.” Arlea wasn’t joking either. She’d almost killed people for less. Bakugo’s struggled became desperate, tears and spit rolling down his face.

“Stop it,” A hoarse voice croaked. Arlea glanced back. the kid was sitting up, looking this way, barely conscious. Arlea turned back. She let go of Bakugo’s throat, not before giving him two more solid hits to the face, one of them crunching at his nose. She stood up, turning back. The teacher must have hit his head, because he was sitting up with a dazed look in his eyes. Arlea turned to look at the kid who was staring back at her with fear. “Don’t - Kacchan’s going to be a hero, it’s only because I’m-” the boy stuttered.

Arlea turned to look at the people on the floor, the two still standing watched her with fear. She turned back to look at Bakugo, who was coughing and staring up at her.

“Quirkless?” She ground out, teeth audibly grinding against each other in her rage. “It’s ok because you’re weaker than him?” She turned back to Bakugo, snarling. “Newsflash asshole, heroes help people weaker than them. You’re no hero, just a twobit jackass with too many people fawning over your flashy quirk.” Arlea turned back, grabbing the boy by his good arm and wrenching him up. Taking him towards the infirmary, the kids gathered gave her a wide berth, except for Hanabi, who walked forward, and helped support him on the other side, being careful of his arm.

“Are you ok?” she asked softly. the boy looked at her. but she was looking at Arlea. Who’s jaw was ticked tight, fury in her eyes.

“I’m going to burn down this fucking school.” She replied coldly in English. Hanabi winced,

“I’m sure… that if he knew, he’d not have talked that way.” Hanabi responded softly, Arlea felt her anger cooling. Her cousin trying hard to calm her down and making an effort to speak in English made her feel better.

“If he knew and actually had the audacity to say that, I’d have already killed him.” Alrea pointed out. reverting back to Japanese.

Hanabi gave a shaky sigh, “Mum is going to be furious…”

Well, that she already knew.

Surprise, surprise, Arlea was called to the office. She walked there, blood still on her uniform, sitting down politely on the waiting room chairs. The woman there was tense, not looking at her. After a while, the phone rang, and the woman picked it up, putting it back down.

“Please make your way through.” she said, giving Arlea a tense smile.

Arlea stood up, taking a breath. Inside was a furious principal, the concussed teacher, two police officers, and someone who looked like he was a hero. She stopped at the door, looking at the hero and freezing. Well, that didn’t bode well.

“Arlea Hunter, I am appalled by what I’ve heard this afternoon. You were a good student, top of your class, an outstanding reputation. But today you not only attacked 3 of your peers, but a teacher as well. These men are here to escort you off my campus, you’re hereby expelled. I’ve called your aunt to tell her that you’re being escorted to the station. Honours exchange student or not, I will not tolerate that kind of violence on my campus.” The principal, who Arlea was shocked didn’t run out of breath halfway through, was red-faced. Furious, the teacher was watching her with a smile.

Arlea turned to him. “Really? Not only will you let another student burn Deku’s face off, but you’ll stand there and smile when the only person willing to stand up for him is being sent off?” She asked. The teacher paled.

“She’s lying!” he immediately cried. Arlea crossed her arms.

“Bakugo told Deku to kill himself because he was quirkless, then went ahead to hit him again, and everyone stood around and did nothing. This student who had the audacity to think he was going to become a hero.” Arlea was enraged now, walking to the desk and slamming her hands down.

“What the hell is wrong with your teaching staff? A single boy was being beaten to death on your school grounds by four people and your staff did nothing! What kind of sicko school do you run?” She was screaming now. then turned to the police.

“You want to take me to the station? Good! I’ll be a valuable witness, and I’ll proudly stand against Bakugo, what kind of sick psychopath burns the face off one of his peers?” She rounded on the principal again. “I’m also surprised that you called my aunt, you should have kept quiet, because you know she’s just going to come here and take my side. And when there’s an internal investigation? You’ll find me watching you burn to the ground with all the rest of your staff. You run an institute that’s supposed to support your student base, and watch them grow. Their parents are relying on you to keep their children safe, and you’re sending one of them home with injuries nearly every day!” Arlea pulled herself to full height, looking down at the man sitting there, getting paler and paler at her accusations. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” she hissed out finally.

There was a tense silence, neither the teacher nor principal would break it. Arlae had just gone and blurted out their failures in front of two cops and a hero. If that didn’t scream ‘doomed’ she didn’t know what did. The hero spoke up first.

“Today has been quite the eventful day for everyone involved. What I suggest happens is that Principal Satoru runs an internal investigation into this matter. Bakugo will be flagged to watch for quirk abuse on U.A records. I also suggest you discuss a solution with Arlea Hunter’s aunt when she arrives, so that expulsion can be avoided.” The hero said calmly. Arlea blinked at him.

“How can you speak reasonably in this situation?” She asked, outraged. The hero pinned her with a steady gaze.

“You were also using your quirk maliciously in body slamming a student. If this Bakugo is punished. You will be also, if the student who was injured decides to go ahead and press charges, then we will do something about it and bar him from entering our academy, if what you say about him wanting to become a hero is true. You may find yourself with the brunt of the punishment however, the student you attacked was not Bakugo by the sounds of it, which means you didn’t use your quirk for self defence either.” The hero turned and walked to Arlea, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“In this instance, it would be logical to just let it go. It would be a shame to lose a potential student with such a strong motivation for justice.” The hero nodded his goodbye to the principal and left. giving Arlea an encouraging smile. She didn’t feel it, wanting instead to throw her fists around and continue her angry outburst. Trying to attack a hero would be a tad ambitious. It also made her feel worse that he thought he saw justice. But it was just selfish, bitter anger. Just piss-poor timing for Bakugo to be an asshole. A year ago today her own mother killed herself over the same words. You’d be better off dead than quirkless. Arlea glared at the two people left in the room. before turning and walking out again. she needed a good cry behind the furthest building, at least before her aunty arrived.

#not my fic exactly but it sure is fic

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shyficwriter · 5 years

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Making Mischief Pt.2

Guardians of the Galaxy Fanfic | Reader, Loki, Yondu, Kraglin

Summary: Kraglin and Yondu are NOT happy about a prank you and Loki pulled.

Authors Note: After finishing this chapter I realized that maybe I should have combined this with the previous chapter into one longer chapter. I’m posting this separate for now for those who already read the first part, but I will also be adding this chapter to the previous chapter to combine them into one.

Word Count: 1,484

You were startled awake by the sounds of shouting coming from somewhere in the ship. It took only moments for you to wake up enough to realize that Kraglin and Yondu must have discovered the prank that awaited them in their showers.

Unsure of the time you check your watch and realize it was morning, meaning that they either opted to wait until the woke to shower, or that neither of them had bothered to look in the mirror before heading to sleep last night. You quickly get up and get dressed to assess the damage, trying to hide the grin on your face as you exited your room.

Your glee was short lived, however, as when you finally tracked the shouts to their source you realized that the guys were yelling at Loki, and they looked very mad.

“Ya think this is funny, boy?!” growled Yondu, shoving Loki against the wall. Yondu was mostly dressed, and looked to be dry. Kraglin, however, was still mostly wet and was still in his towel. Looks like both your assumptions were right.

Loki held his hands up in surrender and claimed innocence, but you could see he was trying desperately not to crack a grin at the sight.

Kraglin was stained with reddish splotches covering most of his face and torso, but Yondu was now a solid new color. The red had blended with the blue tint of his skin and resulted in a deeper purple, very similar to the shade he had turned that time when a dye bomb blew up in his face, but much more even. It was apparent that Kraglin had noticed the color change much faster than Yondu, and must have jumped out of his shower halfway through, whereas Yondu obviously didn’t notice anything until he glanced at a mirror this morning. ‘The man must have been very tired last night or he showers in the dark,’ you thought.

You suddenly realized that Yondu was a shade of purple that very closely related to Barney the Dinosaur and a snicker escaped before you could stop it.

The three look toward you.

“Yeah, get a good laugh.” Kraglin scolded. “We’re throwing your friend out the air lock.”

“What?!” You and Loki cried in unison, Loki now starting to look concerned. He clearly hadn’t anticipated this.

“Why?” Your eyes were wide as you quickly made your way over to the men. Surely they wouldn’t?

“Why d’ya think?” scolded Yondu, motioning to himself and Kraglin. “I bet he didn’t like me warnin’ him to stay away from ya and decided to turn the water in our showers red!” He sneered, grabbing Loki’s collar “I knew it was a mistake allowin’ a guy who calls himself a ‘god’ on the ship.”

“You can’t!” you blurt out. “It was me! I did it!”

The three men look at you again. Kraglin & Yondu in bewilderment, as you never admit to your pranks, and Loki in both relief that this might save him an unpleasant trip and awe that you seemed willing to take all the blame.

“What now, girl?” Yondu said coldly, still not yet releasing Loki.

“I did it! It was just a prank! You can’t throw him out the airlock!” Your voice was almost pleading. “It- It would be bad form to do that to a man who didn’t deserve it!” you tried. You were sure you remembered a pirate from a movie citing something about bad form, and Yondu was just a former space pirate, right? Surely this would resonate with him?

It worked.

Begrudgingly, Yondu shoved Loki away with a scowl. “Ya get out of it this time, boy. Get out of my sight.”

Loki shot you a quick grateful glance and wasted no time making his way away from the angry captain.

Yondu then turned to you. “I can’t exactly say I’m surprised, but yer still gonna scrub the M-Ship for this, missy,” he scolded. “D’ya have anythin’ to say fer yerself?

You grinned nervously. “Uh... it was funny?”

Kraglin glared at you. He had clearly gotten the worse end of the prank since he had jumped out of the dyed water partway through. “Yeah, I disagree, brat. Try again.”

“Um... yeah, I got nothin.” You confessed. “I mean, I got Yondu because he was being a mother hen, but you were really just collateral damage.” you giggled nervously. Kraglin was definitely going to kill you. He stormed off, stating that he was going to try and wash off as much of that dye as he could once his water ran clear again.

“A mother what?” Yondu asked, sure that he should be insulted, if only he knew what that meant.

“A mother hen? You know, being really over protective?”

“I’m not over-protective, girl!” he scolded.

“You so are! I mean, you yelled at Loki yesterday just because he said he leant me a hand when I fell, and you constantly obsess if I’m hurt and check up on me every 10 minutes!”

“I have my reasons.”

“Yes, I know you care about me, but this is exactly the reason I hid this from everyone for so long in the first place! I don’t need to be babied!”

Yondu softened a little. He more than understood by now your desire for independence after everything you had been through. “Come here, little girl,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “I know. I know ya can take care of yerself, but I just wanna make sure yer ok. Ya scared me. I thought I’d lose ya too.”

You sighed, accepting the hug. “I know. But I’m doing a lot better now, you need to see that. I’m not just going to drop dead any second, you kind of made sure of that for me,” you tried to joke about it, but the subject of your new heart was still tender for you, and the humor fell a little flat.

Yondu didn’t say anything for a moment, just rubbed his hand your shoulder in a comforting gesture. He knew he had made a decision for you that wasn’t truly his to make, but he didn’t regret it for a second. He also knew you weren’t ungrateful, but it would still take you time to come to fully come to terms with it. Eventually he tried to lighten the mood.

“D’ya think Kraglin knows that stuff ain’t gonna wash off?”

You giggle and break the hug to look up at him. “No. He’s gonna be stained all blotchy for weeks because he let it dry on him like that. You got lucky, at least you’re an even shade of purple.”

“I suppose being too tired to notice had its advantages.” Yondu laughed, tweaking your ribs in retaliation and eliciting a squeak from you. “Ya better hurry up and get that M-Ship washed before I think of another way to punish ya,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes playfully but did as you were told. In a way you thought you were getting off pretty easy, at least it wasn’t toilet duty.

“An’ don’t think about doing this again!” Yondu called out after you. “Or I’ll put you on grease trap duty for a month!”

You grinned and shot back a thumbs up as you walked away. It’s not like you had a choice anyway, that was the last of your dye.

*** After you finished cleaning the M-Ship you looked for Loki and found him relaxing atop his bunk in his quarters. You looked around for Yondu before entering, not wishing him to assume anything else. You lightly knocked on his doorway to get his attention.

“Hey, so uh, sorry about earlier. The whole... you almost getting ejected from the ship thing, I mean.”

Loki grinned and sat up. “I’ve had worse. Though I must thank you for taking the blame to save me from a rather unpleasant fate. They don’t quite seem to like me, do they?”

“Let’s just call us even, since you covered for me yesterday and Yondu made you scrub the kitchen,” you laughed, “and you’re just new to them still. I’m sure they’ll learn to trust you over time.”

“Well, perhaps not if we continue making mischief at their expense,” he chuckled. He pretended to think a moment. “Perhaps we should... stop?”

“That’s unfortunate,” you grin, certain he didn’t mean a word of what he was saying. “how else will we entertain ourselves? And moreover, I’m surprised the ‘God of Mischief’ would suggest avoiding mischief.”

Loki looked at you, slightly surprised and intrigued. “Madam, are you suggesting that you’d like to make more mischief? Aren’t you concerned of the consequences?” You could see a grin playing at his lips.

You grinned wider, “Maybe I am. Besides, didn’t you say ‘the danger is just part of the fun?’”

A mischievous smile cracked Loki’s face, “Well then, where shall we start?”

#GotG #GOTG FANFIC #gotg2 #gotg fanfiction #gotg vol 2 #yondu #kraglin #loki #yondu lives #loki lives #Yondu Udonta #kraglin obfonteri #Loki Laufeyson #yondu x reader #loki x reader

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hustlebonezzzz · 4 years

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A look back on my past hairstyles

Hair is a strange thing. It is a social phenomenon of self expression that can communicate a meaningful message to the world around us. The inferences we make based on someone’s hair is huge. Religion, gender roles/sexuality, socio- economic background, or even political leanings, are just a few examples. Hair is a tool of individual identity, and we are obsessed with hair in our modern culture. The time and money spent on hair is grand. At any given store, there are whole aisles dedicated to hair care and maintenance. I’ve even seen hair dye at the gas station. Sometimes, I think about how before hair dye, people had to live with their graying hair. There was no hiding it. These days we attach others peoples hair to our own head, get hair transplant procedures to prevent thinning, and most importantly, we alter our hair chemistry with harsh chemicals.

In my own experience, I never thought I had very much going on with my hair throughout my life, at least as far as being meaningful. However, as I sat and thought about all of my past hair styles and choices, I realized that my hair played far more of an emotional role than I had ever imagined. It still does. A bad hair day can ruin any day, honestly. So without further ado, I present my visually dated descent into madness as shown through my past hairstyles.

***

Ages 0-5: At this point in life, societal expectations of hair was not on the radar. You were busy being a kid and not caring.

6-11: The bob/bang combo haunts you. Mom has taken all creative liberties over your hair and has decided that this haircut is IT. You are not completely self aware yet and still have yet to care. You’ve barely brushed it these past five years anyway. It’s just hair, right? Right… But what’s this? At age 11 you look in the mirror one day and think “this.. looks oddly familiar… oh no, oh god, *gasp* I look like COCONUT HEAD from Ned’s Declassified!” You decide to live on the edge and say fuck it! You sweep the bang to the side, slightly. A new era of hair is in the making. Remember that self awareness we talked about earlier? It is arriving.

12: Mom decides that it’s time for a bang trim and you are back to square one. You do not oppose the supreme Authority and her desire for the bang. You also chemically alter your virgin hair for the first time. Mom convinces you that highlights would be “sooo cute!” and you oblige willingly. The process is exciting and the anticipation builds through each step. The mixing of the bleach, the slathering onto the hair, the foil, the waiting. You finally wash it out and it’s time for the big reveal: You hate it deeply and cry many tears. You don’t have the heart or guts to tell Mom that you hate it, so you tell her that you love it. “Amy, have you been crying?” “No..”

This is also the point where you discover the flat iron. Everyone in middle school is straightening their hair, therefore you do as well. Simple as that. You desire to be hip and on trend, and this means clothes from Aeropostale, plaid bermuda shorts, and pin straight hair.

13: Dad has convinced Mom that it’s time to let you have a little independence with your hair, and she can’t pretend that you’re her little 6 year old forever. You haven’t realized it yet, but Mom is having a hard time with you growing up. Anyways, now we can really get to business. You want to be “scene” so bad, but you know that will never happen, so you try to keep it lowkey. Swoop-y bangs, layers, and hair growth? Yes, yes, and yes. They layers get a little too short and you look like a founding father when you put your hair in a ponytail, but you like this for some reason. You’re also still trying to figure out the bang situation, but rest assured you’ll get their in a few years time. Also, you SO wish you could dye your hair fire-engine red like Hayley Williams. In your dreams, girl.

14-15: You have decided that flat iron = the devil. You have crispified that absolute shit out of you hair over the past couple years, and you decide that au natural is the way to be. The bangs continue to grow until the entire forehead is consumed, resembling a mushroom cap. You’ve started high school, and you hide behind the bangs that you refuse to push out of your eyes. Social self awareness levels: off the charts.

At 15, you took the plunge and decided to razor cut your bangs all by yourself, holding your breath the entire time. You angle them, shortest point a half inch above the brow, longest point, right below the brow. And they look.. Good? You covered all the bases. Swoop-y? Check. Covering entire forehead? Double check. Eureka, you have found THE bang. A hair stylist will NEVER touch your precious bangs ever again. They will try and they will fail. You’ve also done away with the extreme layers and have decided that it’s time to grow out your precious mane.

16: You got your first job at the grocery store and bought red Manic-Panic hair dye from Sally’s. This is about as close to Hayley Williams as you will get for awhile. Despite the tasteful placement, mom ain’t pleased. Dad ain’t pleased because the dye stained the sink. Oops. But you’ve always wanted to dye your hair and teen angst is beginning to take over. You were inspired to do it because your best friend put a single stripe of purple in her hair. You expressed that you weren’t sure if you should put the red in because you didn’t want to piss off Mom. Her response? And I quote, “Do it pussy.” That’s all you needed.

17: You get caught sneaking out to go hang out with your scumbag boyfriend (unfortunately, you figure out the scumbag part far too late). Mom gets mad and cuts off your hair in blind rage.You cherished your newfound long locks and she knew that. You dread going to school the next day with your botched haircut. The haircut feels like a permanent scarlet letter. Everyone asks the same question: “So what made you want to cut your hair?” You respond “Just needed a change, I guess.” You feel ashamed and embarrassed every time, like your teachers and peers know the real story.

After getting the haircut fixed by an actual stylist, you dig the short, sassy hair. You decide that this haircut was meant to be and embrace the hell out of it. It was a great character building moment anyways.. right? Later, you discover Sun-In, a spray in lightener that promises natural highlights. You spray too much on and your hair turns a strange brass shade. Jake from work asks “Did you dye your hair?” “Yes.” “Oh.” The “Oh” echoes in your mind. Oh? Just oh? You don’t like my hair, Jake? It’s cool. It’s fine.

18: Ah. the age of legal adultness. You get fed up and move out of the clutches of your family home and in with your best friend. This was clearly a recipe for a drastic hair change. After all, you could do whatever the hell you wanted now. Less than a week later of being gone, you dye your hair bright pink, and then later purple. You are feelin’ damn good. When you come home for Christmas, your four year old sister proudly exclaims, “You look like a My Little Pony!!” Pinky Pie, to be exact. After getting disappointed looks from the rest of the family, you find that your sisters enthusiasm was really all you needed. Pinky Pie is awesome.

You continue to learn that you get more attention with bright hair, and it’s a great conversation starter. The attention is mainly positive, but occasionally, a boomer will chime in with the rude opinion you never asked for. The personal favorite remains: “Kill the manic who did THAT to your hair!” You respond “I don’t really want to kill myself.”

You then panic at the thought of graduating high school and being perceived as immature for having bright hair, so you dye it brown and cut it shorter than it’s ever been. It’s an angled cut, and you feel like a Karen. Instinctually, you immediately message “I’ve made a grave mistake.” to the group chat you had with your friends. You are very melodramatic and your friends think that you must have crashed your car or something. Nope, just another bad hair cut. But life goes on and it grows out. Thankfully, you recover from the Karen cut just in time for graduation.You attempt to dye it deep brown, and it turns black. It’s all good though.

19: You decide that you still want color and opt for a small peek-a-boo section of the hair. “Do it pussy” forever resonates in your mind. Purple, blue, red, and orange are the colors of choice. You get a better boyfriend with this hair, and all is well in the world. You feel cool, yet classy. Was this your hair peak?

20: The brown keeps fading out and looking all blotchy from that time you decided to bleach it for the pink and purple. You decide that you need to cleanse your hair of it’s sins. This means more bleach. Fuck it, you are going blonde. This is the last time you will torture your hair with chemicals. Alas, the blonde doesn’t last very long.

You want some flair, so you go for the most bold natural color and order natural red henna powder. Everyone thinks it’s real. Ha, fools. You get tired of breaking hearts when you explain to those who ask that this is indeed not your natural color. You instead opt for the response “Grew it myself,” which is technically not a lie.

21: You continue to discover how much old men fetishize red hair and think you must be feisty or something. Gross. “You know what they say about women with red hair, right?” “No?” You also grow it out and recover what was lost in high school. Your friends cheer you on and convince you to hold off on chopping it when you’re having a moment. Things get weird and sad after leaving the community college and starting the big ol’ university. You gain 25lbs and revert to straight bangs and a middle part, and use your hair to hide again. It’s kind of sadistic. You quickly learn that this choice is a mistake and revert back to your true form: side part and angled bang.

22: It’s finally long.. but also very crispy. It’s time to say goodbye. You’ve been wanting to say goodbye. The hairstylist gets cold feet and doesn’t cut off as much as you ask her. You don’t say a damn thing, and eventually finish the job at home. Who knew cutting hair at home was so easy? Money and time become scarce, so retouching the auburn color doesn’t really happen anymore. In the past this might have troubled you, but for now you don’t really care.

***

So there you have it. It’s just hair, right? Dead stuff growing out of your head. Well, yes. But it doesn’t take a genius to understand that hair is a big part of many people's identity. It’s one of the first things we tend to notice about others. Whether we mean to or not, we prejudge on appearances. Hair can get so emotional the more you think about it. I never knew how emotionally attached I was to my hair until it was taken away from me at age 17. Personally, my hair was a security blanket growing up. I learned to use it as a way of hiding my face and shying away from others. It was also one of the few things I had control over, and indeed became a major part of my young identity. Turning 18, I asserted my own ultimate control when I dyed my whole head bright pink. I now realize that this was in essence my way of letting my odd family know that I was in charge of my own endeavors from now on. The legality of turning 18 meant so much to me at the time, and pink hair was a grand symbol of it all.

So now I invite you to go look back on your old photos and brew on them. Reminisce, perhaps. Ultimately, you should at the very least laugh, because I know we’ve all had shitty haircuts at some point.

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berrylumpz · 4 years

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A look back on my past hairstyles

***

Ages 0-5: At this point in life, societal expectations of hair was not on the radar. You were busy being a kid and not caring.

***

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baeyeonsei · 7 years

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101: FASHION/APPEARANCE STATS

» completion points: 3,450 » objective: BOLD what applies to your muse. Don’t forget to include pictures, and/or detailed descriptions.

Body: Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms.Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame (5 ft 4 or shorter). Lanky frame. Short nails.Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thighbrows. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet.Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hand. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

** Irene has been known to be quite a petite woman with her features small yet well-proportioned; small waist, narrow hips, tones stomach and legs of average length make up Bae Joohyun, who in pictures, look taller than she actually is in real life. Though she’s received much criticism for her small stature, Irene has also been known to be an idol possessing the desirable S-line figure.

Height (click here to convert to feet): Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

** Officially, Irene’s height is listed 161cm ever since debut. Unfortunately, since she has debuted at the age of 24, women don’t normally grow even an inch at that stage, so she’s been stuck with the same height ever since. As mentioned above, her great proportions gifted her to deceive people, making her appear taller than her actual height especially when she wears pants as of recent. Some, however, say that in real life, she looks around 155 to 158cm, proving how short she really is in some side by side photos with their tallest member Joy or with other tall idols, male and female alike.

Skin: Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft.

** Although there were certain speculations of Irene getting excessively whitewashed by her fansites and reporters alike, many low quality pictures and even fan accounts can deny this (even I can testify to this this...). She, together with member Wendy, appear paler side by side their members. Additionally, Irene used to battle with really bad acne due to schedule stress at that time, but she seems to be taking good care of her skin as of late as it appears more dewy and smooth even without makeup.

Eyes: Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Red. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond.Close-set. Wide-set.Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

** Irene has said that the part she is most confident about herself are her eyes. Her eyes are animatedly wide and expressive with thick lashes and double eye lids. Her double eye lids give her the doe-eye look, even being compared to past EXO member Luhan during her debut days due to her eyes. An interesting fact about her eyes is that she has a mole on the inside of her left eye, just beside her iris.

Hair: Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight.Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows.Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows.

** Unfortunately, Irene’s hair isn’t in the best of state. Since then, her hair has been cute very slightly just to get rid of damaged hair. Although her hair is naturally straight, she’s more often than not seen sporting a wavy do. She’s also tried outrageous hair colors ranging from platinum blonde to ash grey/purple, thus causing the slight damage of her hair. As for her eyebrows, Irene doesn’t have think eyebrows and her eyebrows aren’t shaped in a way to alter her overall look. Normally, stylists (and herself) just follow her natural eyebrow shape with a subtle arc.

Tattoos/piercings: Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). OTHER ( auricle piercing)

** Irene has quite the traditional ideals, so even if they were allowed to get tattoos on visible body parts (which they aren’t considering television rules), she still would not consider getting one. Piercings, however, are okay. She has two on her ears, yet she probably would stop at that, too.

Cosmetics: Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make up.

** Irene is quite insecure with her bare face though many have told her of how pretty she looked, so she often sticks to putting on makeup. Normally, her everyday makeup consists of light eyeshadow one shade darker than her skin tone to highlight her bottom crease, a gentle line, some mascara, and lip tint. However, with stage performances or photoshoots, it depends on the given instructions to the stylist or the concept of the shoot, really.

Scent: Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food.Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood.

** I don’t know. I’m not really all too sure about Irene’s scent nor what she prefers to use. I think she really likes fresh scents like vanilla. She also likes lavender-scented candles. But I sort of see her as someone who would smell like fresh baby powder.

Clothes: Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yogapants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt.Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band Tshirt. Sports tshirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skit. Tshirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jeans shorts. Sweater.Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit (bespoke, made-to-measure, or not at all). Hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs.Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels.Black. Dark colors.

Shoes: Sneakers. Slip-ons. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high boots. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors.

** Irene actually doesn’t think too much about what she wears most of the time. She doesn’t have a fashion formula, either. She just likes to go with what she is comfortable with or what her mood tells her to wear. There was a time where she was basically obsessed with leather jackets, but lately she’s been wearing a lot of stripes and/or dresses. Most of the time, she’s seen sporting comfy looks such as oversized sweaters and shorts, and oversized shorts paired with leggings or yoga pants. As for footwear, she’s so random with them at times. At airports and on the way to schedule, she’s seen always wearing sneakers, but there was a random occasion at the airport where she wore heels. These days, she seems to be into wearing round specs, too.

#{ bottom line is irene is really smol and everything about her is tiny LOL }#kr:101complete #kr:fashion #( ;stories of spring )#{ it's finally done }

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