#[ vet ] –✞– visage.

[loyalpromise]

katjaa m. tag dump:

[ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / answered. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / about. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / headcanon. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / interaction. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / style. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / aesthetic. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / likes. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / fc. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / reply. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / musings. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / music. [ kindhearted vet. ] katjaa m. / visage.

[lovlelymama]

(via T-shirt classique « Chemise d'amant de chien, visage de chien drôle, » par LovlelyMama ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐)

[valved]

Tags !

[ ooc ] –⎔– general.

[ ooc ] –⎔– prompts.

[ medic ] –✚– general.

[ medic ] –✚– ic.

[ medic ] –✚– headcanon.

[ medic ] –✚– musing/aes.

[ medic ] –✚– visage.

[ biker ] –※– general.

[ biker ] –※– ic.

[ biker ] –※– headcanon.

[ biker ] –※– musing/aes.

[ biker ] –※– visage.

[ vet ] –✞– general.

[ vet ] –✞– ic.

[ vet ] –✞– headcanon.

[ vet ] –✞– musing/aes.

[ vet ] –✞– visage.

[wanderbreadsworld]

Your Odd Airbnb Host

Vampire!Konig x reader

Summary: Reader travels to Europe and decides to get an Airbnb. After vetting the host, they finally booked the little cabin in Austria, only to be met by her odd host. He's. Strange to put it best. But he doesn't get in your way, nor you his. Luckily he only got up at night. Wait, what?

TWs: none so far

The plane finally landed. After hours of being stuck in one seat, I jumped at the opportunity to get out of this sardine can of human beings. Grabbing my things, I waited, albeit impatiently, for my turn to finally exit the craft. Once out of the terminal, I stepped to the side, so as not to be in the way, and then checked my phone. I had told my host when I'd be landing, and I wanted to make sure he saw my message. When I made my arrangements to do schooling here, he was kind enough to help me make most of them.

'He is waiting for you by the gate. Tall with a black suit, dark hair and sunglasses.'

Read his message, lighting up my face in the slightly dim airport. I lifted my head, and instantly spotted him as if he had just appeared. I rushed my way over, tired smile on my face as I was ready to get into a bed and sleep.

"Thank you for coming. I know he hired you for me, but thank you anyway." I thanked, grateful for his help, even if he was being paid. He gave me a small smile, taking one of my bags from me and wordlessly leading the way to the car.

The ride to the Airbnb seemed to take forever. I would have enjoyed the countryside along the way. But the fact it was night prevented me from seeing anything. And that's if I could even keep my eyes open, shamelessly falling asleep in the car. Curse my late flight.

"Miss? We've arrived." A voice pulled me from my slumber, and I realized we had made it. Overcome with excitement, my tired daze slipped away and let me be more awake. I eagerly hopped out of the car, to which the driver barely let me grab my own things, carrying them all himself. I conceded, letting him take my things. Instead, I took in the sight of the Airbnb. All the lights were on, illuminating the cabin from the inside, as well as the porch lights softly lighting my way to the front door.

The chilly night air pierced through my clothes, sending a chill down my spine, making me hurry for the door. But before I could knock, it swung open to reveal my host. A tall blonde man, easily as tall as the doorway. With piercing blue eyes. His visage took my breath away. I only shook myself out of my daze when I realized I was staring.

"Welcome. It is nice to meet you. You must be exhausted, come in!" He welcomed me inside, stepping behind the door to let me and the driver in. The warmth inside the house warmed my bones, and made me shiver as it washed over me. I barely even heard as my host behind me told the driver where to drop off my things, going ahead of me and out of sight. The inside of the cabin was cozy. I couldn't help admiring the simple, yet effective, architecture. It led me back in a circle to meet my host once more.

"Yes! Konig! It's nice to meet you finally! I wish I could've gotten here sooner. I hope I'm not interfering with your schedule, I know you said you prefer nights." I apologized, holding my hand out to shake his. He took it after a moment, seeming a little surprised I reached out to shake him hand, or even touch him at all. "It is no problem. I made sure I would be here to welcome you. I wanted to be an attentive host to help you settle in." He stopped a moment to wave the driver back out the door, sliding him a bill I could not see. "Would you like a tour now? I can give you one tomorrow evening, if you prefer to rest." His words were sweet. Each one dripping in his accent and sweet voice. It certainly did not match his physique, but I wasn't complaining about either one.

"I would take one tomorrow, if that would be alright. I'm afraid I must sleep. That flight was exhausting and I'm jet-lagged. Not used to such long flights." I chuckle lightly, rubbing one eye quickly. Konig gestured me towards the stairs. "Then I will show you to your room. If you'll follow me." From all our online interactions, he seemed sweet. And even more so now. He seemed very understanding.

Leading the way to my room, I didn't take in much detail of my surroundings. I was barely awake as he led me upstairs to the cozy little bedroom I would call mine for the next semester of school.

"I will leave you. You get some rest. I should rest soon as well. My night is nearly over." He checked his watch, realizing we were well into the A.M. by this point. "I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight." We exchanged goodbyes, and I got to close my door for the first amount of privacy I've had over the past 13 hours. I didn't even remove my clothes before climbing beneath the covers. The warmth of the cabin overtook me, and quickly lulled me into a deep sleep.

(Sorry it's kinda short, I just wanted to set this up. This fic will be very self-indulgent, with very specific details. I just wanted to share it anyway, because I like writing and wanted to share. It's been a while since I've written a fic, let alone one with chapters. Wish me luck lol.)

[wormbloggign]

Glenn Chambers wore plaid pants with red and green, and a pink dress shirt, His belt bore a buckle with the PRT logo on it. His hair had changed too, parted neatly into what I assumed was ‘geek chic’, and the glasses had changed as well, with thick, round frames. An ID card hung around his neck. He didn’t fit any of those particular archetypes.

i love how shit his fits are. this man CANNOT dress. let him micromanage every aspect of your persona.

“Go, and hurry,” Glenn said.  “Tell them to fix it and cast another prototype before the run starts.  These are toys, they’ll be in the hands of children and collectors both.  The people who are buying these are fans.  What’s it going to say if their most immediate association with Esoteric is the broken toy sitting on a shelf?  It’s going to convey that he’s flimsy.”

ok thats just poor organisation, you'd have the base construction and elements of the doll figured out WELL before you start working on its visage. glenn has dropped in my opinion of him

“I asked to speak to you because I wanted you to know about the damage that’s being done.” “Ah, this is about the butterflies.” “It’s about a lot more than butterflies.  It’s the whole mindset.  The attitude of the heroes.  I’d talk to Chevalier, but he’s too busy.  I’d talk to Rime, but she’s recovering from being shot three times.  You’re the only other person I’ve met so far who really seems to be in a position to know what I’m talking about.  Besides, as far as I can figure, image and PR seem to be at the heart of the problem.”

she's back to her favourite pastime. (i genuinely love everytime she does this)

“The focus isn’t on lethal or nonlethal,” Glenn said. “It’s on whether we can trust you to keep on the path you’re walking. If you start taking shortcuts now, what happens a year down the line? If we decide you can go all-out in one specific situation, does that open the door for another?”

genuinely good point, good to see glenn is trying hard to properly vett new capes

taylor goes so hard as a monster i really do love it

“Until I turn eighteen,” I said, feeling a little hollow.

that's less than a year, you can handle that.

Chevalier approached.  “You murdered two people.  Three, going by your admission while in custody.  Two PRT directors, one major hero.  When Dragon and Defiant suggested we bring you on board, we were divided.  It was Glenn who offered the compromise that we ultimately agreed to.  This compromise.” I glanced at Glenn, who shrugged. Glenn?

glenn wanted an excuse to integrate hexagon tiling into NEW PRT advertising didnt he

“That’s why you’re waiting two years?  You think that it’ll take that long to vet me, before you can give me actual responsibility?”

two years? didnt she turn 17 around the time coil did his big bombing run? did she just forget?

LETS FUCKGIN GOOOOOO

that's genuinely horrifying, thanks

Mail from all around the United states.  From strangers, from fans. Words of support.  Criticism.  Death threats.

this is functionally the first time the general public has had the chance to communicate directly to her. yeah i expected as much

hes bumbling 🥺🥺🥺

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! what the fuck???

aishas doing great actually

lisa is lisa-ing

Atlas died.  I wanted to let you know.  Tattletale had him, but he wouldn’t eat or move.  We asked for him, and we found a place for him.  The guys say they think they know a good way to make a mold.  They’re covering him in brass. A way of saying you’re still with us.  Take care of yourself. -Char

MY BOY ;-;

silly goofy, rachels going through it.

overall, taylors polycule miss her and the others have their own thing

Withdrawing a notepad, I started sketching out the designs I was thinking of. Alterations to the costume, weapon ideas, tools and concepts.

!!!! !!!!

The costume Defiant and Dragon had given me was theirs, not mine.  The fighting style that had been dictated was Glenn’s and Chevalier’s. This, this would be me.

im gonna have to draw her new costume too when it get out arent i.

(we are pretending like im not incredibly excited about this development)

[littlemourningstarr]

Dreamstate

Vette can't be sure why he agreed to leave his home in Secomber and follow Gale to Waterdeep- but he told himself the possibility of learning under such an accomplished wizard was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he needed to take it. But Waterdeep is a completely different world, and Vette is forced to realize just how alone he has always been- and that, perhaps, he felt it was justly deserved.

Chapter 6: Illusionary

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Original Male Character

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Tags to be added as this journey continues, teacher-student relationship, fantasy racism, pining, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, if you squint there is some past sexual trauma, masturbation, fluff, slight voyeurism, handjobs, blowjobs, just a touch of sugar baby treatment

“And so, if you invoke all the senses with your illusion, you can easily set an opponent off guard.” Gale paused his pacing at the center of the room, eyes sweeping out along the students. Vette was seated in his usual spot in the back, still isolated from the actual students.

There was a singular empty seat, down towards the front- where the elf who had stabbed him used to sit. Vette had missed if there had been any reactions or talk regarding his initial absence, but he noted that occasionally a few of the students that still sat in that area would glance back at him, mouths drawn into hard frowns.

He told himself he didn’t care.

“Professor Dekarios?” A girl asked, raising her hand straight up. She looked young, compared to most of the students- Vette thought she might actually only be in her teens. Gale gave her a nod, and she lowered her hand. “Is it really worth the concentration? Even if you were to unbalance an opponent mentally, the force of will you’d need to conjure illusions for all of the senses would mean that you can’t focus on an attack or escape.”

Gale grinned. “You have a very good point.” The girl utterly beamed, and Vette understood the feeling- praise from Gale could make the heart sing. “It takes an accomplished magic user to truly fool all of the senses. It’s best for these cases to start from memory- remember last week, we discussed the easiest way to delve into hallucinatory terrains is to build off of memory.” Gale paused, before he glanced up towards the corner, eyes falling directly on Vette. “Vette, would you come down here for a moment?”

Vette stiffened, awkwardly pointing to himself. Gale had never once really acknowledged him in class, beyond the one admission when more than half the class had been gone that he was his apprentice.

Gale gave a little laugh, this carefree lit that had Vette’s belly up in butterflies. “Yes, you.” Vette hesitated another moment, before he stood up, slowly making his way down towards Gale. As he did, the wizard continued, “Class, this is my apprentice, Vette.” He beckoned Vette close, and the half-drow had to resist the urge to slide right up into his space, meld himself into Gale’s side.

There hadn’t been another kiss, since those a few nights ago. But they were still fresh in his mind, making him feel feral with a need to get in Gale’s space, soak up the heat of his skin.

“Demonstrate for the class,” Gale said, leaning back against his desk, folding his arms. Vette glanced back at him, a little wide eyed- unsure why he was being asked to do this. Yes, Gale had begun to try and get him to work on his concentration over the past few days, but it was still dismal, and this-

They hadn’t even practiced this.

Vette closed his eyes for a moment, thinking he’d try to summon up the visage of home- but that felt simple. And with Gale’s eyes watching him- gods, he could feel them like blackfire, he found he wanted to be extraordinary.

Instead he pulled at newer memories, eyes slitting open as the room began to fall into darkness. The students glanced around as the walls seemed to melt away, tables and chairs now situated in a cramped stoned hallway.

Vette rubbed two of his fingers together, the lighting changing slightly- moving from dim to blackness, so that none without dark vision would be able to see.

He could hear a number of students casting it, quickly.

One sense down, but there were more. He thought of the chill that had been in those fetid halls, deep below the moor. He flexed his fingers, trying to coax the temperature to drop, initially thinking to push coldness out-

But the weave pushed back. Vette ground his teeth, trying to think quickly, knowing he had seconds at best to deliver more before the students grew restless.

Instead of trying to push cold into existence, he curled his hands, welcoming the heat of the room into it. It soaked into his skin, his blood calling to it, and he felt the temperature dropping drastically. He actually heard a gasp.

Once he had the heat bundled inside him, he recalled the sounds- or lack of. The tunnels had been silent.

Casting silence under his breath nearly threw off his hold on the room’s heat, but he managed. The room fell into a deathly silence.

The last two memories were mingled- taste, scent. The air had been stale, wet, smelled of stagnant water, overlaying the sweet scent of decay, the dust of old bones. He felt his muscles going tight as he tried to evoke the memories into reality, the weave within him pulled in so many directions it was making everything begin to ache.

He opened his eyes properly, could see the students all awash in gray- looking at him, waiting on his every breath. There was fear, growing in some of them- he swore he could smell it, wasn’t sure if it was from his memories or the current reality.

He licked his lips, and then lifted his foot, stomped his heel down hard onto the floor. In his mind the movement had been the shattering of a glass bottle, and Sekh’s illumination potion lit up his memories.

Pulsing blue lines began to spread throughout the classroom. He grinned- couldn’t stop himself- and thought for a moment that perhaps he could conjure up the memories of the scrabbling of the undead, along the ceilings and stone floors- the sounds of nails and paper thin skin…

The moment was enough for his concentration to flicker, and the illusion began to fade. Suddenly he could hear everyone breathing, the scent of still water gone. He tried to hold it, to pull back the control- but his fingers locked up as he tried to move them, pain seizing along his spine as his body rejected the control he needed to hold the illusion.

It fell away in an instant, the classroom returning, the heat Vette had pulled into himself bursting out. The moment it did he felt deathly cold, clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.

The opposite of how he always felt, in the classroom.

He expected sneering from the students, considering he hadn’t held the illusion for very long- was afraid to glance back at Gale and see the disappointment in his face-

But then the student who had first asked the question stood up, nearly pushing her books off the table and leaning forward, as if she might climb over the table itself to get closer. “That was horrifying,” she breathed, and suddenly the class was murmuring- the array of students from all ages glancing at each other and seeming to agree.

The only group that seemed silent were the few still clustered around an empty seat.

“How did you imagine that?” the girl asked again, drawing Vette’s attention back to her. “That was so real. Professor Dekarios- I thought only the most skilled magic users could pull from imagination like that.”

Suddenly Gale was at Vette’s side, a hand resting on his shoulder, giving it a single squeeze. Reassuring.

Proud.

“I did say that, and you’re right. What you just saw wasn’t imagined, it was from memory.” Gale gave Vette’s shoulder another squeeze, turning his head to glance at him. “Wonderful job Vette, thank you.” Vette could only manage a nod, sure his eyes must have looked like a confused puppy-

He had done alright? But it wasn’t perfection-

“What you all just witnessed,” Gale said, stepping away from Vette, who took the silent que to hurry back to his seat, “was the beginnings of a story I do believe I promised to tell you.” He moved back to his desk, hopping up onto it and sitting casually.

Vette realized the students were all waiting on bated breath, eyes locked on Gale. The wizard looked at ease with their attention, as he began the tale of what they had discovered, in the High Moor, weeks prior.

*

They walked back to the tower that evening, instead of teleporting. Vette was honestly rather glad for it- as intimidating as Waterdeep was, it was still thrilling. And it felt safe to see, at Gale’s side.

So much felt safe, next to him.

His hand itched to reach out, grab his mentor’s, tangle their fingers together. He was almost glad he was still wearing his student robes, as it hid the little motion. Instead he curled his hand into a loose fist, told himself to be patient.

He’d get the chance, eventually. Those few kisses, nights ago- they had to be the beginning of something, right? He’d never had to wait for something like that- granted, he couldn’t say anyone had ever kissed him in the way Gale had.

He moved to turn a corner, but felt a hand grasp his forearm gently, stopping him. Vette glanced over at Gale, who was simply smiling. “We’re taking a little detour.”

“Where?” he asked, turning and following Gale away from the tower.

“Well if I told you that, it would ruin the surprise.” Vette bit at his tongue to keep from retorting, chose to follow Gale in silence through the city teeming with evening life. They ended up in what had to be a shopping district, which Vette hadn’t expected. He was trying to take in the many shopfronts, when Gale paused at a door, opening it and gesturing for Vette to enter.

The half-drow did, almost cautiously. He stepped into a shop and was instantly hit with the smell of books, parchment and leather covers, strings and glue for bindings.

Gale stepped in behind him, and said, rather softly, “surprise.”

“You’re going book shopping?” Vette asked, thinking that the shop seemed almost… average. Nothing seemed to be pulsing with the weave, nothing smelled like magic.

“You’re going book shopping,” Gale corrected, a hand finding the small of Vette’s back. It felt like a burst of fire, through Vette’s clothing. He swore it could soothe his spine- his body still harboring aches from the sheer force of concentration he had used earlier. “We’ve got access to a near endless array of magical tomes and ancient texts- but that’s not all there is to read.”

Vette glanced at the wizard, who moved his hand from the small of his back to the curve of his waist, settled in quite close. And when he spoke, it was so softly.

“You’ve read about your heritage, I know. You deserve to have your own library of knowledge on who you are, as a drow.”

Vette stared, felt his ribs squeezing tightly at his lungs, his heart. Gale remembered? Vette had been able to keep up with Sekh’s knowledge of drow culture and the Dark Seldarine to a point, but had only been due to the one admission that he read any book he could get his hands on.

Gale gestured towards a section, before he pulled away from Vette, offered a loud greeting across the shop. Vette noticed a half orc at a desk, who grinned at the sight of Gale, the two jumping into a conversation immediately.

The half-drow moved towards the section Gale had motioned to. It was a shelf boasting an array of theology texts- histories of the gods, they’re disappearances, their rises, their worshippers.

Finger running along the spines, Vette paused at the first mention of the Dark Seldarine- Gods of the Drow.

He pulled it from the shelf, shocked that it wasn’t paper thin, and opened randomly. He almost recoiled at the sight of Kiaransalee’s name, the memories of what he had seen in the High Moor too fresh now that he had conjured them up for Gale’s students.

Still, he didn’t set the book down. He closed it but held it to his chest, moving a few shelves over, finding a small section of topography. He couldn’t find anything that specified just the underdark, but there was one with a map of Faerun that had a few tunnel entrances marked. He grabbed it as well without a thought.

He could always ask Gale’s advice on which one to get, after all. 

He was glossing over a section branching off from topography on flora and fauna, when he heard the wizard’s footsteps. He didn’t glance up, as the man took up space at his shoulder, peering at the titles of the books in front of him.

“Oh, don’t bother with this section,” he said, “If you care about plants Sekh will get you anything you could ever dream of. I can write him tonight.”

“I was just looking,” Vette offered, turning to face the wizard, offering up the two books he was holding. “I think this one regarding Faerŭn topography is more useful, but I do think the theology book is more… interesting.”

Gale arched a brow, and then said rather loudly, “you’ve only got two?” Vette just stared at him, before Gale shook his head, taking his arm and pulling him through the store. “You leave me unattended in a bookshop for a few minutes and I’ll be using mage hand to carry my findings,” Gale mused, pausing at shelves that seemed at random, and yet finding exactly what he seemed to be looking for instantly, stacking them into Vette’s arms.

In a matter of minutes he had a stack he was going to have trouble seeing over. Vette tucked his chin onto the books to keep them steady as Gale walked him over to the counter, motioning for him to set them down.

The half orc looked beyond amused at the sight. “Taking your students shopping now?” she asked- and Gale smiled in a way that Vette had trouble reading.

“He’s my apprentice,” he said, and Vette realized it had been pride.

The woman smiled. “I’d heard rumors you had one, but wasn’t sure if I should believe the talk.”

Gale just kept smiling, and Vette couldn’t stop the color rising in his cheeks. He glanced down, as Gale suddenly said, “oh!” and rushed off for a moment.

When he returned, he was holding multiple packages of parchment, a few new pens, and an inkwell that looked like it cost more than all of the clothes Vette had brought with him to Waterdeep.

He set them on the counter, and Vette realized this was all for him. He wasn’t choosing a book from the pile, Gale was simply buying all of it.

There wasn’t even time to react, one moment Gale was adding the last items to the counter, and the next they’d been purchased and he was piling various things into Vette’s and his own arms.

The half orc wished them both a lovely evening, and Vette barely managed to get out pleasantries of his own, before they were back on the busy street. “We’d best teleport home,” Gale mused, managing to shift some of his purchases to one arm, the other grasping at Vette’s waist as he spoke a quick incantation.

And then they were in the tower. Vette was almost sure the dizziness that overtook him was more from the whirlwind of the impromptu shopping trip than the teleportation itself.

Gale made his way towards Vette’s room, setting down the items he was carrying on Vette’s desk. “We’ll have to do some real organization,” Gale mused, glancing at the sparsely filled shelves. “And if you find topics that we are unable to find in the shops here, we can look elsewhere. I’ve kept quite a good network of book sellers under my thumb for years. Of course, not counting anything more magical, those may require a bit more hunting-”

“Gale.” The wizard paused, turning as Vette set down the books he was holding. “Why did you buy me all of this?”

Gale stared at him for a long few seconds, seeming completely perplexed by the questions. “Because you have an interest in your father’s heritage,” he said, as if it had been obvious. “And you should be writing your mother on nice parchment, and with all the glyphs you’ve been practicing I know you’ll be running out of ink, and frankly you should have a nice selection of materials to work from-”

“Gale.” The wizard paused, pinching his mouth shut. When Vette didn’t elaborate, Gale cleared his throat.

“You should have access to everything you need,” Gale added, and then, after a moment of hesitation, “and perhaps I want that to be the finest of anything I can find.” The wizard reached up, rubbed at the back of his neck, adding, “and I was quite proud of the work you did today.”

The single word nearly had Vette tipping to the floor. Proud? He must have gawked, because Gale smiled at him, fondly, causing little crinkles along the corners of his eyes.

“The amount of concentration you showed today was extraordinary. I know it has been the most difficult thing for you, but you proved to me today that not only can you do it, but I believe I found the exact way to get you focused.” Gale took a step closer to him. “Stress.” Vette frowned, and Gale actually chuckled at him. “Or some rush of strong emotion, at least. I’ve been thinking on it, since you teleported yourself back here after… the incident with the Ashbreaker.” Gale paused, as if even saying the family name had left a bad taste in his mouth. “You haven’t been able to teleport before.”

No, Vette hadn’t. He assumed it had been dumb luck, and maybe the weave itself taking solace in the blood he had quite literally been shedding.

“And today, with that illusion you managed.”

Vette studied Gale, before something dawned on him. “You were testing your theory by having me do that?”

Oh, Gale beamed. “That’s my clever boy.” He took the few steps to Vette, reached up as if to tap his nose, but the sorcerer grabbed his hand instead, guiding it to his jaw, to slide along the side of his neck. Gale moved as if that had been his first intention, cupping the back of Vette’s neck, soft grip making Vette’s breath catch in his throat.

“What if I had fucked the whole thing up?” the half-drow whispered, as Gale’s other hand found his waist, held him as if it was instinct. Gods it was good to be this close again.

“There isn’t a reality where you would have.” Gale tipped his head up, and for a moment Vette thought he was going to kiss him-

And he did, but it was a tender kiss to his forehead, against a mess of red and gold scales. Vette swore for a moment he legs were going to melt beneath him- a combination of the soft touch, the affection, and the fact that this man believed in him-

Gale pulled back slowly, almost reluctant to let go of the sorcerer. Vette wished he hadn’t, wished Gale had given him the moment to clutch at his robes, get his arms around his neck, have them flush so he could wish to feel the very drum of Gale’s pulse through his skin.

“I should leave you to your books,” Gale offered, “you’ve got quite a bit of reading to do now. And after today’s display, I think you deserve a bit of the night off from any real training.” 

Leaving was the last thing Vette wanted Gale to do. He took a step towards him, thinking to tell him no, he didn’t need a night off, or time away from him, or anything that wasn’t Gale within an inch of him like a comforting ghost-

As he moved his muscles clenched painfully, reminding him that he was still feeling the residual effects of his earlier display. He meant to ignore it, but he grimaced just slightly-

It was enough for Gale to notice. Eyes going from a joyous pride to concern, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Vette could have lied. He probably should have- but Gale made him honest. “Just still sore from earlier. That much of a show pulled the weave from my bones.” He tried to smile, like it was a joke, he’d be fine, but when Gale’s expression didn’t change, Vette sighed, added, “I couldn’t get the room to cool down, so I might have absorbed all of the heat. Releasing it back out might have been the uh… tipping point.”

“You shouldn’t have hurt yourself.”

Vette shrugged a shoulder- that wasn’t new. But what was- “I wasn’t going to disappoint you.”

Gale’s face softened. He shook his head once, as if he simply didn’t know what to do with this man, before he was moving past him, telling him he’d be right back. 

The half-drow worried his lip, wanting to chastise himself for his honesty- gods, did he sound like a hopeful child, just wanting Gale’s approval? But it was true, he couldn’t lie to himself- he just wanted the man to smile at him, to be proud.

When Gale returned, he had shed his teaching robes, had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was holding an ornate bottle in one hand, all colored glass and jewels. It looked expensive.

“Off with your robe,” Gale said, and Vette listened without hesitation, shedding the fabric and leaving it tossed over his chair. “Shirt as well- then lay down on your stomach.” Confused, Vette just stared at him, trying to ignore the way his belly lit up in an inferno at the instruction to even partially strip. When Vette didn’t move, Gale added, “I’m going to work the tension right out of you.”

Oh. Vette turned away then, fingers working on his shirt as his hands shook. Once he’d pulled it off, he glanced back as he tossed it away, noticed Gale was watching him, the gentle look in his eyes replaced by something sharp, dark.

Afraid he might whimper under that stare, he turned back towards his bed, climbing on it and settled on his belly, face turned to the side and settled on his pillows. He felt the bed dip as Gale climbed on himself- and then the pleasant weight of his body, as he straddled the back of Vette’s thighs.

The sorcerer was almost thankful he didn’t have long to dwell on that feeling, as moments later he felt Gale’s hands grasping his shoulders. They slid along skin easily, the oil filling the room with the scent of wood, incense.

Gale’s hands worked along his shoulders, pushing just hard enough that for a moment the muscle cramped- but then the discomfort was replaced with relief. Vette groaned, unable to bite back the sound, as Gale’s hands moved to his back, thumbs working down his spine and seeming to find all of the hidden cracks in his vertebrae where the pain wanted to hide.

The wizard was silent, and Vette wished so badly he could be inside head, in that moment. Just for a breath, a single thought. Was the heat of Vette’s skin driving him as mad as the pressure of Gale’s fingertips was driving the sorcerer? Was being this close evoking images of so many could-bes?

Vette bit his lip as Gale worked at his lower back, felt his cock throbbing between him and the bed. If he could think beyond the weight of Gale settled on the backs of his thighs, he might be alarmed at how quickly he’d gotten hard- but his mind was nothing but molten iron, dripping along the confines of his skull.

Gale worked up his back again, hands moving along his spine, over the scales that adorned the entire length of it, the movement having him leaning forward, pressing into the swell of Vette’s ass.

For a moment the joyous delirium turned into a thrumming panic, and Vette went stiff, his body’s instinct to brace for discomfort-

But Gale was just a pleasant weight and heat. He noticed the tension, however, and pulled his hands back, breaking most of the contact quickly, making Vette want to cry out in dismay. “Don’t,” he managed, his voice coming hoarse, a rasp from his tight throat. “Don’t stop.”

“You went tense,” Gale observed. However he reached forward again, got his hands back on Vette’s back, had the muscles singing for him again quickly.

“Just memories,” Vette mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut again. When Gale leaned into him again, he swallowed down the urge to panic- he told himself he wanted to believe that things would be different, with Gale. That the man wouldn’t hurt him.

He hadn’t, thus far. Gods he’d done the exact opposite that any lover had ever done to Vette, in the past. And Gale wasn’t even his-

His what?

Gale got his hands on the dip of Vette’s shoulders, pushed at nerves that had the half-drow gasping, the sound ending in a whine. The sorcerer shifted his hips, nearly wanting to grind into the bed over the feeling-

But instead pushed himself back against Gale, slightly. Just enough that it seemed accidental- hells, it was- but gods, he could feel a tension go through the wizard, as if he was forcing his muscles to steel, to keep from canting his hips forward.

He could feel the shape of his cock, pressing against his backside.

Vette slid his hands along the bed, grasped at the blanket, as Gale pushed into the muscles at the top of his spine one last time, before he leaned back, quietly studied him.

One of his hands ran along Vette’s side. “Can you roll over?”

Vette shook his head, only pushing further into his pillow. Gods if he did, it would be obvious how badly he had liked Gale’s touch, what it had done to him.

Gale leaned over him again, braced his hands on the bed so he was bracketing the sorcerer in. Vette felt the drag of his mouth, on the back of his neck, a whispered, please? that had his heart beating so erratically he feared he might die.

He swallowed thickly, nodded, and Gale moved off him, sat on the edge of the bed. Vette took a deep breath before he shifted, moving to his back, staring up at the ceiling and trying so hard not to focus on the way his cock was aching for a touch, pressing against his pants.

He squeezed his eyes shut, heard Gale shift, could feel the man lean over him, a hand plant firmly on the bed near his arm-

And then the feeling of his lips, pressing sweetly to Vette’s.

The sorcerer trembled, an arm reaching up, hooking up over Gale’s shoulder, holding onto his shirt. He tipped his head back slightly, let Gale press to his mouth harder, gentle drags of his lips becoming a well practiced dance of his mouth, making Vette tremble down in his belly. He swore all he could do was follow the wizard’s lead, react when his tongue flicked against his lips- gasp when Gale nipped at his lower lip, pinched it between his teeth and let out a devious chuckle that shook Vette to his core.

Gale’s hand shifted, grasped at Vette’s that was still twisting the blanket, guiding it to rest on the sorcerer’s bare belly. The older man’s knuckles brushed against his warm skin, the trail of fine, straw blond hair that led to his groin.

“Don’t be scared of what you want,” Gale whispered, against his mouth. Vette forced his eyes open, peered up through heavy lids as his wizard smiled down at him, his eyes dancing like black flames. Vette flexed his fingers against his own belly, and Gale leaned down, pecked his lips, then the bridge of his nose, before nosing towards his ear. “How can I take care of you if you won’t take care of yourself?”

Vette choked, a whimper trying to claw up his throat. Gale smiled, gods he swore he could just tell when the man did, before he was pulling away, standing up.

“I’ll go start dinner,” he offered, looking down at Vette, drinking him in. The half-drow wanted so badly to see what he saw, to hear even a fraction of his thoughts. Gale’s eyes lingered on his lower belly, the hand splayed there, darted even between his thighs, at the obvious bulge of his cock. “When you’re ready, come join me.”

He turned, headed for the door, stepping over the threshold. The door shut, and after a moment of silence, Vette realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, slowly, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t heard Gale walk away, yet.

He was fairly certain he was still on the other side of that door.

He teased his fingertips along his happy trail, before he pushed his hand further, working quickly at the buttons of his pants. Gale had made it fairly obvious what he’d wanted Vette to do-

The half-drow freed his cock, sucking in a breath as the air in the room felt so much cooler than his burning skin. He wrapped a hand around himself, eased it up slowly, let his head tip back with a relieved exhale at the touch. He arched slightly, smiled when the bed creaked with the action, as he rubbed his thumb over his cockhead, smearing precum from his slit over the sensitive skin.

He rolled his thumb just under his cockhead, over the bundle of nerves there that had his breath coming faster. “Fuck,” he groaned, squirming slightly along the bed. He wanted to tease, but the impatience in him was growing to such a degree he swore it was a beast that would consume him whole.

He grasped himself again, stroking quickly, shaking as his muscles- so sweetly lax thanks to Gale’s hands- began to tense, but pleasantly so. He wished Gale had stayed, wished the man had wrapped one of his hands around him, stroked him however he wanted. Vette didn’t care- so long as the man touched him, he swore he’d find oblivion.

And gods if Gale would just keep kissing him.

“Gale,” he breathed, to himself, wanting to taste his name, learn how it felt to wantonly gasp it. Then, bolder, swearing the wizard had to still be on the other side of the door, groaned much louder, “Gale.”

His toes curled, pressure growing at the base of his spine, making his belly and his balls go tight. Gods, he was close, he was so fucking close already. 

He swore he heard the faint sound of wood groaning. Had Gale leaned against the door? What if he was touching himself, too? What if he was out there with his hand around his cock, desperately seeking the same release Vette was chasing.

Vette licked his lips, would have given anything to have the fucking guts to just get up, rip the door open, grab the wizard and kiss him with every bit of desire he harbored down into his bones. To drop to his knees in front of him, taste the salt of his skin, feel the weight of his cock over his tongue, until Vette was nearly sobbing as his jaw burned-

He gave a quick, wordless cry, shoulders digging into the bed as his orgasm hit him with the force of an ocean wave. He trembled, stroking himself through it, felt a splash of warm cum along his belly- and then another, as the crest of his orgasm seemed to hold for a moment. 

His body relaxed, until he swore he was melting into the bed. He released his cock, hand resting on his belly, dangerously close to the pearly mess he’d left. He was panting softly.

He dared to flick his eyes to his door- and could just make out the movement of shadows and light, beneath it.

Gale had been there. And there was no way he hadn’t heard his name, from Vette’s lips.

He knew then that if he wanted Gale, he’d have to act. His wizard could dance this routine forever, but Vette felt so sure in his gut that Gale was trying to coax him out of himself.

Trying to tell him if he wanted something, he had to take it. To just embrace his ambition.

[deltaruminations]

caring for your horrible bird-thing gaster

we all know how it goes: you’re hunting out deeplore for your favorite story-driven indie RPG, maybe digging a little too deep in the data mines, when you realize you’ve caught the attention of a fourth-dimensional daimon with the personality of a perpetually hungover post-doc researcher, and now he’s scuttling around your walls and asking you for your favorite flavor of blood.

wuh-oh!!!

you cannot fix him, nor can you get rid of him, but with a little know-how, you can learn to coexist peacefully with him until he loses interest on his own or finally achieves whatever inscrutable peace his restless, tortured mind is seeking. whichever comes first!

and who knows — maybe you’ll find this curse is really a blessing in disguise! for the right person, the bird-thing can make a very good friend. he already chose you, didn’t he? :)

SO, here are my Top Tips for living with your personal instance of the horrible bird-thing!!!!

🕊️ bird-thing 101!!

be not afraid!!! while he may be a towering Luciferan abomination of shattered bone and twisted wings, the bird-thing means you no harm. he is simply curious about his new friend! remember: underneath his hollow, mask-like visage and nest of tangled limbs, the bird-thing is a deeply self-conscious, lonely nerd with the social skills of moldy drywall. he’s more afraid of you than you are of him!

despite having what look and feel much like bones, feathers, hooves, and fur, keep in mind that your bird-thing is really just the distilled consciousness of the world’s most pathetic lich, which exists separately from any physical form. the vessel he presents to you is a non-biological construct formed out of the concept of vacuum and forced by the quantum-field perturbations rippling from his past actions into the shape of his sin. he’s not like a dog or a cat or your gay aunt’s cockatoo — his needs are as special and unique as he is!

because your bird-thing is a cruel, mocking shell of his former self and literally made of Nothing, he has no need for food, water, or medicine. talk about easy!

your bird-thing may display strong signs of autism. that is because he is autistic

if your bird-thing’s wings seem to be perpetually broken, backward in their sockets, constantly shedding feathers, or otherwise looking malformed or diseased, DO NOT PANIC! this is normal and natural for him! it is a punishment from God

likewise, it is perfectly normal for your bird-thing to have several cracks in (and possibly large chunks missing from) his skull, to smell lightly of ozone and scorched bone, to resemble an emaciated raven trapped against the windshield of a rapidly-moving truck, and to occasionally drip a thick, tarry substance from his feathers and/or the cracks in his head. don’t worry! there is no need to bring him to a doctor or vet. he can’t get any sicker than he already is!

your bird-thing should have six wings and seven voices. if he is missing any of those, just lock him in a lightless space (basement, closet, large safe, etc.) for a while and he will knit the missing pieces back together from the quantum strings binding him from across space-time to his countless regrets. if you hear any wailing, weeping, pounding against the door, and/or desperate pleas to be let out, IGNORE THEM! they are a normal part of the process and a sign that it is working :)

the holes in your bird-thing’s hands should appear to you as pitch-black, bottomless voids, regardless of what’s on the other side of his hand. whatever you do, DO NOT look directly into the holes with intent to see through them. in the event that any image(s) start to manifest within their inky depths, avert or close your eyes IMMEDIATELY, no matter how fascinating or beautiful the image(s) may be, or you may find your perception of reality irrevocably altered by the Thrall of Hole.

the one exception to this is Egg produced from the Hole. it is safe to look upon Egg, for Egg is a Gift. the offering of Egg appears to be a bonding ritual of great importance to the bird-thing, and it is advisable to accept it. Egg will typically resemble that of a chicken — normally white, occasionally brown, and sometimes dyed and painted, often around holidays. the purpose of Egg is unknown, only that it is of middling importance and should be saved. Egg will not go bad, but may become more Egg over time. if you decide you have no use for Egg, then there will be no Egg. Egg is wonderful to share with family and friends!

if you are very concerned about the Thrall of Hole, consider covering the holes with gloves or mittens — safe, practical, AND fashionable! because your bird-thing has terrible, uncanny skeletal human-hands, the options are endless — anything in a men’s size extra-large should work! if you have trouble with him immediately taking them off, consider investing in a quality pair of handsome, smart-casual gloves. his vanity is easily appeased by fine leather.

if your bird-thing gaster has pink and yellow eyes and a wide, toothy smile, that is NOT your bird-thing gaster! that is your FRIEND puppeting his shape. if you find yourself in the company of your FRIEND, keep calm! all you have to do is get as far away as you can as quickly as you can and then stay there, never again letting your gaze linger over shadows, never again trusting a grin, and never ever ever answering the goddamned phone, no matter how incessantly it rings, no matter if you’ve destroyed every phone you own and your skull still rattles with the endless ringing ringing ringing. see? easy peasy!

and finally, if you’re ever unsure what to do, just take a deep breath and remember: your bird-thing gaster cannot die, no matter how much he wants to!

[punk-in-metal-detector]

Apparently I should not be here but my visage of a sad vet cat and complete inability to function like an adult has won them over

[adozentothedawn]

⭐️!!!

Original Ask

Decided to talk about my latest little piece since that is part of what I'm still working on.

"Anon straightened again, grinned, smoothed out her leather coat and waved the little booklet around. "This? It's useful to keep track of all the little details of etiquette, ceremony and all that. I am still somewhat new to the job and practicality has taken precedent over decorum for now." She resisted the urge to turn away and give her treasure another loving lookover. The first thing she'd done after Theodora's untimely and extremely convenient demise had been to dig through all documents on her new writing desk. In the process of vetting everything for interesting information she'd found the little booklet abandoned in a corner of the office together with other material Theodora had apparently not found worthy of her attention. It was of smooth, pearl white paper, with the distinct smell of cotton grown in the peculiar soil of Kolarrax Six, a world deep in the Winterscale protectorate, and bound in wonderfully soft, red grox leather. A beauty and a joy to write in. Using a datapad for her notes would have been an unforgivable waste."

So this entire thing was just birthed from a joke line ("I shall give you the honour of a prolonged session of admiring my wonderful visage to this sour backdrop. We'll both be stuck here considering my lack of a Navigator and your lack of a..." She threw a pointed look around the gore decorated room, before raising her eyebrow at the young woman before her. "Well, anything." this one to be precise) and in the middle of writing it I kinda forgot what fandom I'm writing for and thought I had to make up an excuse for Anon to use a paper booklet. My brain got Star Warsed. I did later realize that this is Warhammer where people still use candles so no I didn't need an excuse, but nontheless, Anon is now a paper nerd. Cause why not. I thought it'd be a funny little detail for the pirate woman to have a paper hobby that she's unbearably nerdy about.

[muutosarchive]

put the gun down. now. ( donny and rambo )

PROMPTS FOR ACTION, CHAOS, AND DRAMA / / @chrchgrl

nostrils flare. eyes widening, as he hits the wall. panicked. dragging breath over both tiers, as the trained revolver is aimed straight. no wavering in the face of fear. but that's what training gets you. a weaponized man, yet his visage reads like a deer in headlights. eyes wide open, neck drawn back & away from the man before him. sweat beading, pricking, & coating his entire dirt ridden face. the drifter not in a position to bathe more-so than what's allowed in a bus station bathroom. pupils darting about, without moving his face -- or disengaging with the target.

one flash, & he was back there. it didn't matter if it was another vet on the other side. loud noise & the glinting of silver, naught more than a lighter most likely. & rambo had put any objects nearby between he & novitski with record breaking speed -- brandishing a revolver he'd stolen, with his survival knife still tucked in the waistband of his dusty, acid wash jeans. training it, on the man before him. though when he locks eyes with the man, proper form on the gun... there's no easing of his posture. shaggy hair trembling at his temples with the curt & short shaking of the vet's head. very quick movements, nothing uncertain. lips remaining parted, to breath through them. slowly, but surely. two large breads of sweat sliding slowly down his cheek. "how do i know you won't hurt me?"

[terrence-silver]

Any Terry headcanons you have please! 🙏

Terry Silver is ambidextrous, not because he was born that way but he simply trained himself to be that way; something or other about him merely having a greater command over both of his hands regardless if he plays the piano, fights or is busy signing documents and contracts, teaching himself to utilize his arms as if though they're both equally dominant. And of course, not to forget that he loathes to have limitations of any variety and loathes even more to be controlled by them, even if they're of an entirely arbitrary nature nobody could possibly have a choice in. Well, Terry has a choice in it, because he made that choice for himself --- he gave himself that choice; namely, to overcome and teach himself to be better. Always striving to be greater than he initially started out as.

Dynatox started out as an elaborate, indirect revenge for the things Terry Silver experienced in Vietnam, specifically targeting places he considered, pardon my language ''Third World Hellholes'', because if he couldn't enact what he felt was justice and emotional closure in the literal sense, he would do so in a roundabout way, ensuring he pollutes said Global South, developing countries as much as legality allows (and even pushing the red line of international law on the regular) utilizing every method, venom and tactic he observed in the army and making a hefty buck out of it too. Agent Orange galore. Sure, in the end, it is all business, and Terry considers himself a shrewd, calculating businessman, but it is undeniable there's a shred of the extremely personal involved. It is revenge. A form of warfare. War part two, where Terry gets to win.

Terry Silver has never attended a single military reunion, club, gathering, or anything of the kind. Not in over fifty years. Never. He simply had this odd feeling that such things are for those who survived and that he didn't. He died, metaphorically, on the battlefield, a long time ago, or was at least meant to, and he lives now in this odd limbo, through someone else's usurped visage, neither here nor there, too dissimilar from most of his peers to ordinarily mingle and too similar not to re-traumatize himself, and his awkwardness and guilt was always too big to visit such commemorations in person. Not that he'd ever admit to that! No, no! He's too busy! He has to be in New York, on business, by Monday! Sure, he might be the shadowy hand donating to some Vietnam War Vet. charity or fundraiser because he does care, but he is never present in the flesh. Could also stem from the innate fear that someone will recognize him and refer to him as Twig again.

He has no living blood relations. Not since the late 70's and early 80's and all until present day. Truth is, Terry has spent most of his life as quite literally the last living Silver; the sole remaining member of a formerly great dynasty that has reached its ultimate and utter decline in his youth somewhere after the time the only confirmed person he was connected to, in the form of his father, undoubtedly died. Sure, the perks of that are that he was also the sole inheritor of all the movables unto which he's added the fortunes of his own successes and business endeavors after he returned from Vietnam, but the downside was that the price of that ultimately came with it being fairly lonely on top of the world. Again, another thing he would never readily admit to because it would mean he'd admit to having a vulnerability and being controlled by a sensation so mundane, but Terry is, regardless, the only Silver.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

a kiss shared on a rooftop while the sun sets - Tarhos and Haru

KISS & TELL a kiss shared on a rooftop while the sun sets Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez & Em Beihold ═══ MODERN VERSE ═══

It was a stupid idea, to think that sitting atop the roof of Haru's grandfather's shitty cabin could possibly give them a better view of the sunset, as if it could even try to reach the tree tops - but that didn't matter. Not when Tarhos was looking at the sunset with the most beautiful, hazy stare...a dreamy look that Haru could watch for hours, maybe even until he died. He really had no idea how beautiful he was...did he? The younger shifted beside the vet as he leaned his heavy, slightly tipsy head against his palm. Haru's own lashes falling halfway and his mind burning out everything else around them. Fuck it. It couldn't possibly matter more than what he was looking at.

He didn't care about how nice the sun might look, about the tweeting birds, about Bonnie's idle little barks from the porch below them... The whole damn forest could be on fire and he wouldn't notice the flames until he was half burnt. Hell, he barely even picked up that Tarhos was speaking until he turned to face Haru, a demure look of surprise when he realized that Haru's dark eyes were only settled on him. The words slipped out before he even knew he was speaking, accompanied by a sweet, adoring smile that felt all too comfortable to let go,

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

There was that precious blush Haru loved so much, the one that brought out the azure of Tarhos' eyes, the one that pulled at Haru's heartstrings and told him that he was perfect for him. Yeah...this is what life had been leading him to, this moment with them on the top of a shitty cabin roof getting bitten by mosquitos after drinking 1 too many shitty beers. He wasted no time as he placed his hand over Tarhos and closed the distance between them, relaxing into the kiss almost immediately. His heart fluttered when he heard that cute little gasp resound from his boyfriend, his elation only growing when he felt the flex of his lips, and heard the low rumbly purr that echoed from his chest.

Or the honeyed whimper as Haru slipped his fingers into his hair.

After a moment he pulled away - God - the way Tarhos leans back into him to further the kiss is enough to drive him up a wall. Those big sad puppy eyes meet Haru once more and he melts on the spot, cupping his cheek with a gentle stroke under his eye. Perhaps it was the alcohol but Haru swore he could see the canyons of Tarhos' skin grow deeper, the scattered gray of his hair expanding to his whole head... Is this what people meant when they could see themselves spending the rest of their life with someone? A few blinks and his cute boy is back to his usual visage but... Ugh. He'd have to talk to his mother soon about rings and shit wouldnt it? Sure they'd only been dating for less than a year but...

Haru could keep that secret.

[benjaminlas]

Embracing the Digital Mirror: iFoto's AI Haircut Simulator as a Catalyst for Personal Style Progress

In the realm of personal aesthetics, the journey to finding the perfect haircut can often be fraught with uncertainty. How many of us have feared the chair, dreading the scissors' snip that might sentence us to months of regrettable bangs or an unexpected buzz cut? The advent of digital tools, such as iFoto's innovative "Try On Haircuts" AI haircut simulator, marks a pivotal moment in the fusion of technology and personal style. These digital dress rehearsals allow us to experiment with the nuances of hair design without the commitment or the cost.

Consider the pixie cut—a bold statement that requires a leap of faith. This chic, cropped style is not for the faint of heart, and yet, with iFoto's simulator, one can don a virtual pixie cut and immediately assess its impact on their overall appearance. The AI's sophisticated rendering process considers facial structure, hair texture, and even the subtle contours that define an individual's visage. It's not merely about visual experimentation; it's about understanding the principles of proportion and symmetry that underpin a truly flattering style.

The magic of the "Try On Haircuts" feature lies in its user-friendly interface and the precision of its AI. As we navigate through the myriad options, we're not just playing with looks; we're engaging with a tool that embodies the essence of a haircut's design philosophy. It encourages us to ask questions: What does this style say about me? Does it complement my features or contradict them? How does it interact with the other elements of my style—my wardrobe, my accessories?

As we manipulate these digital avatars of ourselves, we're tapping into the power of visualization—a key component of creativity. The simulator acts as a bridge between imagination and reality, allowing us to iterate on our looks with the click of a button. This democratization of style experimentation is nothing short of revolutionary. No longer do we need to rely solely on the subjective opinions of stylists or the nerve-wracking anticipation of a salon visit. Instead, we can become our own stylists, informed and emboldened by technology.

Moreover, iFoto's AI haircut simulator is a testament to the potential of technology to serve as a complement to our innate human desire for self-expression. It doesn't replace the human touch; it boosts it. The tool can suggest styles that might otherwise never cross our minds, expanding our horizons and encouraging us to step out of our styling comfort zones. The pixie cut that seemed too audacious might become our new signature look, all thanks to the confidence instilled by a virtual try-on.

Yet, the benefits of such technology extend beyond the individual.Salons and stylists can harness the power of the AI to better understand their clients' preferences and provide more personalized services. Imagine a consultation where the client walks in with a handful of styles they've already vetted through iFoto, eager to discuss the nuances of each with a professional. This symbiotic relationship between tech and tradition fosters a collaborative environment where the client's vision meets the stylist's expertise.

In the broader context of the beauty industry, the "Try On Haircuts" feature represents a shift towards a more engaged and informed consumer base. As users explore various styles and settle on the ones that resonate with their identity, they contribute to a cultural tapestry that's rich with diversity and individuality. The digital mirror not only reflects our potential looks but also our evolving relationship with technology and self-image.

To sum up, iFoto's AI haircut simulator is more than a simple tool for trying on different hairstyles. It's a gateway to self-discovery, a playground for creativity, and a bridge between the digital and physical worlds of personal style. With such technology at our fingertips, the art of conversion is not just a aspiration—it's a reality. So, why not embrace the digital mirror and let it guide you on your journey to finding the haircut that truly speaks to you?

[notladylikes]

they’re sitting in the warm sun, in the back bed of rebekah’s pick up truck, fast food wrappers littering the space around them. both girls have burgers in their hands and a buttload of french fries, followed by two impossibly large drinks. the sun is setting in the sky and it leaves a faint glow about them, gentle breeze blowing through tousled hair as rebekah glances over towards elizabeth.

nobody made mention about the streaks of blood that still sit across their cheeks, or the fact that there is dirt caked under fingernails. they had just finished a hunt - a nest of vampires that had been causing mayhem to one of the local ranch owners, and were treating themselves in the proper manner - fast food and good company. rebekah takes a sip of her drink before she speaks, glancing over to elizabeth who’s mouth is half-full of a handful of french fries. she obviously waits for her to finish before talking.

“if you could have any job in the world other than ours, like, if you were completely mundane, what would it be?” she knows that her female compatriot works as a vet tech and takes her time in the rodeo, but were those her life’s goals? or is there something out there that seemed so far out of reach she would never be able to achieve it. rebekah pops a french fry into her mouth before she continues speaking, not waiting on an answer before divulging her set of information.

“i think i would have liked to be a surgeon, or somethin’. blood is obviously no issue,” she says, gesturing to the stains that litter the front of her t-shirt. “but ya’ gots to go to school for so long for that and i ain’t willin’ to risk the money when life is so…..let’s just say hectic. you ever think’a these things?” she’s got her head tilted towards @thefair, a curious look set about her visage.

[orangetintedglasses]

Something was certainly trying to happen as the door slammed shut behind them, the lights on the panel lighting up red to signify that the door was locked. Nothing was getting in or out... but by the sound on the other side as it closed-- metallic banging and thumping, and something slithering up against the other side --whatever was keeping it closed was aiming for the former.

"I... I-I don't know..." the little Greenie whimpered with a shaking voice, looking from the door back to his friend--bleeding, he was bleeding, he was hurt-- "I can't remember!"

The distress that echoed through the lifeless visage of the room wasn't helping. The shards rattled like wind chimes, and the room itself was already starting to shift again, the floor beneath their feet showing those same cracks from before, starting right from where the little Vash stood. He took a step back, away from Vet, as tears began rolling down his face.

"I'm sorry...! Y-you got hurt because of me, you shouldn't be here!"

The acrid smell of smoke was creeping in from under the door, where those roots were trying to slip in.

"It's my fault!"

fortheloveofpeaceandpeople​:

Now cradling the fragments in his arms, close to his chest, eyes going from Vet to the piano and seeing more and more vines start to coil up from behind it, poised to strike at the intruder again–

“This way…!”

–he grabbed hold of Vet’s hand again and took off in a run, keeping the shards tight to his chest with his one arm, the scene around them starting to shift once more just as hair-thin cracks started to appear at the edges. It went through a few different changes this time, not just going from point A to point B like it had with the piano room– no, this time it shifted them to another hall, then to another, with Greenie leading the Veteran Vash to a specific door. One that opened as they neared without needing the use of the panel, like it was expecting them.

Or, maybe, like someone had opened it for them.

Another shift. The room they were in didn’t come into clear focus, hazy at the edges, and lacking color in a few spots. But there weren’t any vines here, at least not yet. It looked like a personal quarters, with a bed, and a chair and desk with an empty bell jar sat in the middle, and more of those scattered glass shards hovering above them. Vash looked… unsettled, by this new spot, but he shook it off. His new friend had just–

“A-are you hurt…?!”

| 🌱 | The Veteran blocked another stabbing vine with a feathered tendril as Greenie gathered himself to run. The older Plant let him take his hand and guide him--he turned in time to miss another swipe at his head, feathered wing knocking the vines away.

The journey through the ever-changing hallways and scenes made him unsteady on his feet, but as long as he held to the child’s hand, he knew he would be fine... 

The room they stopped in felt... hazy. Unsteady. Or that could be the damage done by the vines.. Who knew one could be hurt in such a physical-feeling while inside the mind? He hoped his body was in better shape--but that was a concern for another time. 

“You did so well, Vash! I’m okay...” Blood flowed from the edge of his hair, and from his cheek. And he thought perhaps a few other, minor places, but the dark red-purple-black of his coat shrouded in energy would hide that... “Don’t you worry--I’m tough, I’ll be just fine...!”

Looking around himself... Dread crept inside him. Something even more familiar about the room than he could have expected. The shapes were different, the colors, but the feeling of the room was... 

“I-is this your room, do you share it with your brother? Or..” Why did he feel like he was waiting for something to happen? He reached out to one of the shards, attempting to touch it made it shimmer and tumble in slow motion in the air. 

[neverlcckback]

archangelxgabe said:👮+ percy | a moodboard about my muse’s occupation