my hair just did this on its own

Isak and Even hair drabble | what even is this tho?

I miss Isak, I miss Even…I wonder what they are doing right now…

I imagine that they are being goofy as always, showing their affection by arguing about something silly like 

OMG like Isak deciding that he wants to get a flipping haircut! And Even is just like NO !!!!! FUCKING !!! WAY !!!! BOI. He is literally so offended and I mean this actually turns super serious. Isak kinda just said it one day like “Ugh my hair is getting so long, and it’s so curly and so annoying and I just want to chop it all off” and Even’s all like “lol don’t do that baby, you would not pull of bald. You’d look like a cute baby egg” and then he just kisses his golden curls and Isak playfully slaps him away while grinning “Shut up! I would not, I’d look like a fucking king” 

Even just laughs and is like “sure baby” 

but then of course eventually it gets serious??? like Isak brings it up again one day, like Even mentions a film he wants to go see and Isak is like “Oh let me know the time it’s on because I was thinking of getting my hair cut on Sunday” and Even just like freezes and is all “EXCUSE ME? wot da fuq” and Isak looks up at him and is like “yeah i mean i’m just gonna get it cut a little shorter so it’s not as curly and annoying.” Even’s hand (which was stroking all of Isak’s ‘annoying’ curls) has just stopped in his hair and he is just Not. Chill. At. All. he looks at Isak with his mouth all open and pouty “You are not cutting your hair.” he declares meeting Isaks eyes. 

Isak laughs “what??” he shouts amused and surprised at the passion inside his boys voice over his damn hair. Even just tilts his face down and gives Isak his “I am not kidding babe your not going there, fight me boo” look. 

and Isak just laughs before shouting “oh my gosh your being ridiculous! It’s just hair It doesn’t even matter EVEEEEEN!” 

so then Even just thinks oh you want to fucking start this before smiling and nodding. Isak nods with pride thinking he’s won this fight befooooore Even says 

“You know what? You’re right, summer is coming up and it just gets so hot, I think i’ll go and get my hair cut with you.” 



Isak looks back up at him in horror “NEI!” he practically screams before he could rethink it. 

Even’s eyebrows shoot up smugly “what? no? But baby it’s just hair right?” 

Isak rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in defeat “Fine…fine no fucking hair cut. I hate you.” 

Even rolls over and pulls grumpy Isak closer to him, holding him against his chest. “You love me…” He runs his hand through Isak’s prince hair and kisses it before whispering in his ear “and I love your hair.” 

Isak smiles to himself and blushes. He would never tell Even but after hearing those words from the man of his life, Isak has never looked after his precious curls more.  

adult situations

He tastes like tequila and smells like rain.

This is Clara’s only thought as she kisses Ethan for the first time. She can barely see him in the dark of his bedroom, but she can feel him well enough. Slender body, all sinewy muscles, made up of long limbs. He puts his hands in her wet hair—he loves her hair he told her once and she smiles against his lips at the thought. Ethan tilts Clara’s head back, nips the sensitive skin of her neck, and presses a light kiss to the soft flesh. She clutches at the fabric of his shirt.

“Turn around,” he says, and she does as she’s told. He touches her bare shoulders, like she’s been wanting him to do all night. Then slides his fingers down her back, following her spine. He unzips her dress, and she takes it off. Strips down to nothing but her plain, cotton underwear.

Clara laughs, and the sound warms him. “If I’d known this was going to happen I would have worn fancier panties.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ethan says. “You won’t be in them for long.”

To prove it, he pulls her underwear down and slips a hand between her legs. She whimpers and moans his name. She’s so wet for him already, eager.

A minute later Clara steps out of her panties and turns to face him. She’s naked, all slim lines and gentle curves. She gasps as he cups her small, pert breasts, drags his thumbs across her nipples. She trembles and her breathing grows shallow.

“You all right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Clara says, and she smiles. “Just a little nervous.”

“Why?” And she’s almost glad for the darkness so he doesn’t see the childish blush marring her cheeks.

“Because it’s you,” she says. “Because I—it’s been a while.”

She thinks her sudden shyness might bother or unsettle him, so she breaks the silence in an attempt to keep it going. 

“Your turn,” Clara says. “I want to see you without clothes in the way.”

Ethan undresses quickly, and he lets his shirt and pants and boxers fall to the floor. When he stands before her, bared, she feels a strange apprehension. Not because of their nakedness; she’s confident in herself and comfortable in her body. Still, she can’t place the source of her own hesitance.

There’s a moment where they simply stand across from each other, no movement, only heavy breathing between them.

She’s the first to break the spell. Take the plunge. Her hands roam along the contours of his stomach and chest. “You’re beautiful,” she says and she thinks she hears his breath hitch in surprise.

They stumble to the bed, mouths matched, all over each other. Entangled already, a mess of limbs and first time exploration. Ethan pushes her down onto the mattress, moves on top of her, and Clara wraps her arms around his back. Holds him to her and kisses his neck, bites his shoulder. A small pain that amplifies the pleasure. He touches between her legs, and she is warm and soft and, in this moment, his. Clara throws her head back, breaths sharp and labored. Lightning illuminates the room and he sees the graceful line of her throat, the sweet curve of her breasts.

It doesn’t take long, and when Clara peaks her back arches off the bed. She grabs at the sheets and moans—a high, staggered, needy sound that drags Ethan to slip two fingers inside her. To fill her and feel the wet quivering of her body as she comes. By the time she falls to the mattress and whispers, “Now, please, now,” he’s already opened her thighs and pressed himself against her. She slides her hands down his chest, holds him, guides him inside her body.

Ethan kisses her and pushes into her gently, testing. Kisses her again, swallowing the soft sounds she makes every time he thrusts. Her lips taste of tequila as well and something that is purely Clara, and she feels so good, so tight that it almost hurts, but not quite, like her nails now biting into his back.

They move together, slow, languid, hands and mouths exploring while they (fuck, she thinks, distracted, is not the right word for what they are doing). Until slow and tender is not what he wants anymore, and Ethan pulls away from her, out of her. Their bodies part, and Clara asks, bereft, “Ethan, what are you—?” He turns her over, presses her down, flat against the bed. Understanding, she opens her legs, grips the sheets, and he loses no time getting inside her again.

He braces himself over her and now it’s faster, harder. Clara’s moans are muffled by the pillow, and it seems like he doesn’t like that cause he grasps her chin, turns her face to the side, and says, “I want to hear you.”

His breathing grows ragged as he gets closer, and he can feel the muscles in his stomach and legs tensing. He tries to slow down, to even out his rhythm and bring her to climax again, but it’s been so long, and he’s overwhelmed by the fact that this is the Clara, the woman whose warmth he’s craved since they first met. Pleasure coils low in his belly, spreads throughout his body, and Ethan comes with a shudder and a half-shout. He spills himself inside her, shaking. Then, as much as he wants to collapse, he’s careful to continue holding his weight above her.

She sighs as he kisses the back of her neck, because even when he’s spent he needs to keep touching her.

Later, they lie side by side, fingers entwined, listening to the storm. Rain pounds against the roof.  It scares him a little, the effect she has on him. Having sex with her so soon was not, perhaps, a wise decision. 

She turns on her side, drapes her arm across his chest, and asks, “What are you thinking?”

He could lie, but it seems wrong, after what they did, to be false with her. “I’m hoping this wasn’t a mistake,” he says.

Clara lays her head on his shoulder. “Do you regret it?”

“No, but I’m afraid you might.”

She shakes her head, nuzzles his neck. Her breath is warm against his skin when she says, “I could never.”

She hopes that that alone is enough to relieve him.

“I like you… a lot,” She whispers, and she wishes that he can’t tell from the tremulous tone of her voice that she’s nervous. “Can I say that? Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind.” Ethan plays with her still damp hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “I like you a lot too.”

Her anxiety eases. She’s well aware that this intimacy they just shared was far from planned. Clara understands his unease; and she wants him to understand too that, despite the fact that they had a bit to drink, she is well aware of what she is doing—of what they just did.

“I’m glad,” she says. “You make me happy, if I can… If you’ll let me, I want to do the same for you.”

His silence is deafening. Maybe she’s laying it on too thick, maybe the alcohol is making her speak too much. She thinks back to her sister for a moment, who swears its better to be on the ‘person who cares less’ spectrum of the relationship. Briefly, she wonders if, yet again, she is the one who cares too much because Clara is only capable of being scared or wearing her heart out on her sleeve.

It’s a few moments later that she pulls away from him, gets out of bed, and puts on her underwear.

Ethan sits up. “What are you doing?”

She finds her dress and says, “I, well… I thought I should go home.”

He watches her with intense blue eyes, holding the wrinkled black dress, and she’s waiting to see if he will invite her to stay. “Come back to bed,” he says after a moment.

Clara smiles, slips beneath the covers, and curls up by his side. They kiss until the rain stops and the sky lightens, and then she falls asleep in his arms for the first time.

So I finally did it. I cut my hair, it was down to my waist and literally everyone I knew told me before not to do it. How I will regret it and I’ll feel ugly. WELL SUCK ON MY SEXY ANDROGYNOUS TITS.

No seriously this is the sexiest I’ve ever felt.

So message of the story do what you want to your own body. ITS YOUR BODY. (Just don’t self harm because we all love you

I take no credit for this lovely hair…all i did was recolor it…All the credit goes to Stealthic be sure to go grab hers as you can have both in game..Just when i am gonna use a hair a lot i tend to like to have my own preferred colors and its why i decided to share because i thought maybe someone else would like my colors as well..

Click to download =)

I will have to say to date that this hair is probably my very favorite custom hair made so far by any creator out there….and that is saying a lot.


okay so, there is nothing i dont love more than long haired gingers that are vampires, so yes. i am calling this General Hux the vampire because this is my jam! Interview With The Vampire Kylux AU is what im talking about, and i just couldnt help myself. I will do a master post soon.

but yeah i have not been myself lately and my laptop died tonight so i did a makeup test and there you go, enjoy.


Nero - The Boy Who Fell

I FUCKING DID IT!! (maybe i’ll convince one of my friends to be Yuu next time…..)

I honesty have way more pics of the bunny than i do of the cosplay! its just too cute and it fit perfectly in the ring of the sword!!! (that was a happy accident!!)

I had one person recognize me and ask for a pic and that was awesome, thanks stranger!!!

oh god i had to trim the bangs that morning, so thanks sooo much to my friends who waited for me and also helped me do it! (i’ve cut my own hair bunch but it was so much harder and terrifying to cut this damn wig!!)


Look at this stuffed Toothless my little sister made me for my birthday! She sewed the entire thing herself, and it’s the first one she’s ever made. It’s AMAZING. What does every 23 year old girl need for her birthday? Her own Toothless, obviously. 

Thank you @precisely-random! I love my Toop :D


What started as a night to get drunk and rob each other blind quickly turns into Cabot’s resolve to find an early retirement plan.

“Okay, I have to know. Just how long is your hair?” Blackwall began, squinting over the rim of his pint as he watched Thalia, once again, tuck a stray lock into the pile that rested atop her head. The moment she did, however, another tumbled straight out. The only thing that kept it up at all were about half a dozen ribbons. And magic, probably. “It’s like…it’s like a living thing with a mind of its own. Why in the world wouldn’t you cut it? It’s probably a horrid pain to deal with in battle.”

Thalia giggled, pausing to shuffle through her cards. “It reaches my knees, but I’m not allowed to cut it until I get married. Also, I’m putting in two silvers.”

“You don’t have two silvers, Butterfly.” Varric chuckled, encircling his arms around his winnings to reel them in. “In fact, you might as well give me two inches of your hair, that’s the only silver thing on you.”

“…Two coppers?”

“You don’t have any money left, darling. You have to fold.” Dorian leaned in to pat her shoulder sympathetically.

“How abooooout…” She trailed away, bending down to dig at something beneath the table. When she emerged, she slapped down what looked like a pair of badly patched up socks. “These?”

“Thalia. Love. You lost.” Blackwall snickered, fanning out his cards. “Don’t feel bad, though. You’re still a wee little babe when it comes to this game.”

She turned a flat glare to him, opening her mouth to protest and quickly closing it to puff out her cheeks in a pout. A ribbon was then pulled from the depths of her pale hair, allowing just enough to fall so that she might take it and arrange it into something resembling a beard on her face. She screwed up her eyes and jut her chin forward, speaking in a deep voice. “My name’s Blackwall and I think I’m so smart because I’m older than the Maker’s balls.”

He arched a heavy brow at that. All around, the group began to burst into thunderous cackles.

“Hey, that was pretty good! Ooh, ooh, do Sparkler.” Varric goaded, and abandoned his cards to eagerly lean in. All around, everyone did the same.

Without a word, Thalia freed every ribbon from her hair until it all fell down her back in a soft, gently waving sheet. A shorter chunk that curled into her cheek was pulled forward to stretch over her top lip. Dorian nodded approvingly amid the chorus of snickers and guffaws, and tweaked the end of his own mustache. “Uncanny, that.”

“How about…Cullen?” The Iron Bull suggested next. Silent as before, she gathered her hair and fluffed it up into tangled clouds, pulling it down to pin against her shoulders until it resembled his coat. An exaggerated frown took form on her face.

“I can’t even defend myself.” The commander snorted with a defeated shrug. “Alright, Iron Bull then.”

She jumped up from her seat to hurry into the kitchens, prompting Cabot to quizzically stare after her before shrugging and resuming the polishing of a mug. When she returned, two large, crescent shaped rolls were in her hands. She wrapped her hair around them, securing them with the previously abandoned ribbons. It was messy, but there were definitely horns shaped into it. She smirked with pride at the applause that followed.

“How ‘bout Vivienne?” The big Qunari said with a nudge to her shoulder. “You’re already halfway there.”

Frowning thoughtfully, she tapped a finger to her lips. Then with a snap, she turned to Blackwall and made her expression as haughty as possible. “You’re gross.” She confidently proclaimed, sending the entire table into an uproarious fit.

The grizzled Warden wiped the tears from his eyes as he managed to collect himself. “That’s…that was brilliant. Okay, okay, Varric this time.”

Untying the ribbons and shaking the rolls from her locks, she gathered all of it at the nape of her neck and stuffed it down the back of her shirt. She pulled it under her armpit and out through the collar so that it hung over her breast, fluffing it up once again. In a deep, husky voice, she grumbled, “well. Shit.”

At this point, Sera had tumbled from her chair, the Iron Bull coming dangerously close to following suit. Blackwall was draped over the table shaking violently, and Dorian had slapped a hand to his face and sagged bonelessly in his seat. Cassandra covered her mouth politely, but her cheeks had taken on a bright, healthy glow. “Can you do me?” She asked in a manner almost timid. It was clear her own ale was finally getting to her.

Thalia’s fingers worked out a braid faster than any of them thought imaginable. She wound it around her head into a crown, then lifted from her seat to loom over Varric with a harsh scowl. “Ugh!” She grunted in disgust.

Too drunk to argue it, Cassandra lost herself to laughter with everyone else.

“Me! Me! Me next!” Sera cried out, bouncing up and down like an excitable child. This took Thalia another long moment of thought, but eventually she just shrugged, shouted “Piss!”, and blew a raspberry. With five pints in her tiny body and no standards to speak of, Sera cackled until she was gasping for air.

“How about Cole?” Suggested Dorian, pointing to the quietly grinning boy curled up in his chair. Combing her hair forward to cover her eyes, she leaned over to pluck the hat from his head and placed it on her own, mimicking the bent posture perfectly.

“You look very nice in my hat, Thalia.” Cole murmured gently, and smiled at her with a warmth that could rival the sun’s.

“And you look even better in it, Cole.” She replied, dropping a kiss to his forehead before returning the hat to its rightful place.

“Oh! Solas!” The Iron Bull bellowed. “I have got to see this one.” Sure enough, he began to bang his enormous fist on the table when Thalia pulled all of her hair back to bare her entire face, covering the top of her head with a white hand so it might resemble his bald head. Everyone dove forward to save their respective drinks.

“Maker’s mercy. What were we even doing before this?” A very red-cheeked Cullen asked with barely enough breath.

“Oh, who knows and who cares. Our lady Inquisitor just won everything in the history of ever.” Varric shook his head and pinched the skin between his brows. His chuckle sounded tired, as if he’d exhausted himself through sore sides.

“Wait!” Apparently recovered, Sera slapped a hand to the table. “One more. You do this one right, you get my winnings.” Standing as straight as she could (and with no small amount of precarious wobbling), the thief spoke in an almost solemn authority. “Coryphe-shits.”

Thalia laced her fingers together, frowning in contemplation for what may have been three minutes, and reached forward to take the jar of strawberry jam that accompanied the loaf of bread Cabot brought them earlier. With the most neutral facial expression she could muster, the pale-haired elf smeared it across her cheeks, held her hair over her shoulders as she had in her impression of Cullen, and took a deep breath through bared teeth.

In the many months that followed, it was often asked of Cabot, the humble bartender with a legendary amount of patience, what his most memorable night working in the Herald’s Rest tavern was. To their surprise, he did not answer with the massacre of Adamant, the great relief that followed the rescue of Empress Celene, or even the victory over Corypheus himself.

No. Instead, he would slowly lower the mug he was dutifully polishing and tell them with a weary sigh, “I’d have to say it was the night the Inquisitor got completely shit-faced, stood on the table, and screamed out, ‘I am a giant bag of darkspawn dicks.’”