Basically I've noticed a complete lack of hair!kink fics within the Klaine/Glee fandom. I want to change that!
I mostly write Klaine, but am open to other shipping suggestions.

Please feel free to request whatever weird scenario you want to fill your needs (so long as it's hair!kink related) I also take requests of real-life shippings too.

Not a spoiler free blog

 

fangirlarmoire:

justalostnostalgicgeek:

i was waiting for my snack wrap but everything changed when the fire nation attacked 

this looks like something out of a freaking sims game

fangirlarmoire:

justalostnostalgicgeek:

i was waiting for my snack wrap but everything changed when the fire nation attacked 

this looks like something out of a freaking sims game

(Source: 103312)

nerv0uskids:

yeigar:

YOU KNOW WHATS HORRIBLE, WHEN YOU HAVE A CRUSH. NOT A FUCKING “OOH ID PUT MY CHIP IN THEIR DIP” BUT A FUCKING CRUSH THATS SO STRONG THAT YOU CAN IMAGINE THEM HUGGING YOU FROM BEHIND, AND PUTTING THEIR FACE TO YOUR BACK OR NECK.  THEIR LITTLE SLEEP SOUNDS AND THEIR DISGUSTING MORNING BREATH THAT YOU DON’T MIND BECAUSE YOUR CRUSH IS THAT FUCKING STRONG

Ugh yes

A co-worker closed the door to the staff room behind him.
It locked automatically
and I started planning what I could use as a weapon:
smash the glass beside the fridge into his eye.
pick up the fork next to me and sink it into his leg.
claw him across the face if I couldn’t get to anything in time.
As I calculated how hard it would be to shove his body weight off of me,
he finished making his lunch, said, “Sup,” and left,
the door automatically locking behind him.
I expect if I told him I was prepared to stab him with the corner of my staff ID if I had to,
he would say what I’ve heard too often, the one we all know
but are getting wearily suspicious of:
Not all men are like That.

When I was eleven, all the girls in my class got sent to self-defence
because they assumed we’d need it one day.
When I was twelve, there was a prostitute’s body dumped in the river next to my house
because someone thought she was disposable.
When I was thirteen, it happened again and this time the man went to jail
and people stood outside the courtroom and held up signs that he did the right thing.
When I was fourteen, my friend showed up to a sleepover late, chest heaving from sobbing
and from running four blocks after getting chased by a man that followed her off the bus.
When I was fifteen, my mother accused me of being a Man Hater
and I said, “No, but god, would you blame me if I was?”

I got catcalled and then got laughed at when I flipped them off.
they pulled up beside me and I clutched my bag tighter,
my hand going in for my keys and my mind going over how their noses would look
if I smashed them in with my elbow.
“What’s the big deal,” the guy at the steering wheel asked. “We’re just complimenting you. We’re not like That.”

Sorry, but I’m not going to trust you in case I end up on a poster labelled ‘MISSING.’
Even if you seem like the nicest guy, I’ll still have one hand holding my keys
as the only knife I’m allowed, because I don’t know how far you’re going to take it:
if you won’t back off when I tell you I don’t want to date you
if you’ll shout BITCH at me when I don’t respond well to your catcall
if you’ll expect my body as a reward for treating me like a human being
if you’ll try to take what you think you’re owed by being a man
if you’ll turn me into another statistic that people shudder away from.

I have been trained to assume that it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing
or face the consequences.
I don’t know if you’ll nod when I reject you
or pump me full of bullets.

Every single woman I’ve talked to has a story where they haven’t felt safe in their own body
because of what a man said or did.

Not all men are like That, but god, it’s enough.

'Welcome to Girlhood: None Of Us Are Safe,' theappleppielifestyle (via tiredestprincess)

(Source: theappleppielifestyle)

pornstarch:

i hate when ur boob starts falling out of ur bra like excuse me ma’am please return to your assigned seat

November 19th, 2013,
‘Selfie’ was named the Word of the Year by the Oxford Dictionary
Pseudo-intellectuals everywhere cried about the ‘death of the English language’
Because God forbid modern colloquial speech be recognised as valid.
Time Magazine refers to ‘millenials’ as the ‘me me me generation’
Selfish, all we care about is personal gratification
Lazy, entitled, shallow narcissists.
A picture of a girl taking a selfie on her phone is used for the cover
Because our selfishness can be summed up in the fact that we like how we look enough to document it.
We are consumed, they tell us, with our self image.
Everything is about us.
Me-me-me.
With the addition of every word to the dictionary,
‘Hashtag’. ‘Perf’. ‘Sexting’. ‘Totes’. ‘Selfie’,
The ‘me-me-me’ generation continues to make it all about ourselves,
And we should, they tell us, weep,
We should weep because we are entitled,
Because all we care about are selfies and parties and Instagram,
Because this is the generation that will one day run the world,
And for that, we should weep,
Because all we are is ‘me-me-me’.
Let me tell you something.
Every year, university tuition will be 2.3% more expensive for MY GENERATION,
MY GENERATION reports the highest levels of anxiety and depression than ANY other generation,
15% more of US than YOU will go to university,
But 46% of MY GENERATION won’t find a job until over a year after law school,
MY GENERATION, on average, is $47,628 in debt.
58% of girls in MY GENERATION feels like they are the wrong weight,
95% of people with eating disorders are part of MY GENERATION,
And MY GENERATION has a million dollar industry telling us that we are not good enough,
That we are ugly, lazy, and entitled,
And anything we do to be financially successful,
Or less stressed,
Or beautiful, god dammit,
Is in vain.
So pick up your phone,
Pick your favourite filter,
And take a goddamn selfie.
You deserve it for having to grow up in these times.

My poem, ‘Hashtag Selfie’. (via dingdongyouarewrong)