#keratin side effects

[lyricsolution-com]

Nita Ambani, Alia Bhatt's Hairstylist Decodes Hair Botox And Keratin Treatments, Explains Why He Doesn't Recommend It | Beauty/Fashion News

Celebrity hairstylist Amit Thakur, known for working with stars like Alia Bhatt, Priyanka Chopra, Nita Ambani, and Katrina Kaif, recently shared a video discussing hair Botox and Keratin treatments. In the video, he explained these popular hair treatments, broke them down for viewers, and shared why he never recommends them to his clients.   Amit posted the video on Instagram with the caption, “I…

[koegama]

Hanasei

Avg. height: 1.70-2.20m | Avg. weight: 80-150 kg | Hyper-carnivores | Semi-aquatic lifestyle | Lifespan: ~120 years

Hanasei are a semi-aquatic species that originate from lakes, but expanded their settlements into rivers and other large bodies of water. They're a medium-sized biped with a hard keratin helmet where horns sprout from and a tail with large fins. Their skin is slightly damp, and can range from smooth to bumpy, that affects their transpiration and how often they must hydrate. They have both two nostrils located at their helmet and from 2 to 4 gills on both sides of their neck, of which are used for speech in land and breathing underwater, while the nostril's only function is on land respiration. Their necks are strong and well develop, and can expand or contract.

Both hands and feet have webbed fingers to facilitate swimming, but the webbing on the hands can retract for better dexterity when handling utensils. Their amphibious lifestyle left them being only decent at both types of locomotion, but their versatility makes up for it as they can comfortably transition to both environments. They're hyper-carnivores and will eat anything made of animal matter, including bones.

They are the only sexless sophont in Koegama, using Aether as a reproduction tool instead of a biological system.

More physiology dump undercut! Warning, long

Head

The common head structure of a Hanasei is somewhat flat, with a stout snout and large jaws. Proportions and shape vary per individual, and slight deviations from standard models are common. Sometimes, small barbels, whisker-like structures, will grow from their jaw and upper lip area. They give a small boon to the olfactory systems, but otherwise have no major benefits.

Horns

While the protrusions on Hanasei's heads are not anatomically horns but a different keratin appendage, horns are the most common colloquial term. Their main purpose were for fighting and a display of health and fitness to potential partners. Nowadays, most Hanasei have no real use for their horns other than decorative, but individuals may favor different horn styles compared to others.

They don't shed, growing through their infancy and plateauing around 23 to 27 years old. If a horn is broken mid-development, it will continue to grow, resulting in mismatched horns and branched protrusions depending on the type of damage. Once the horns stop growing, the blood and nerve system will shrink and be absorbed, leaving the area with no sensation and regrowth impossible. Cracks and missing pieces being a common sign of age.

Variance

Horns are very vulnerable to Aether tampering, leading to a numerous amount of styles and types to exist. Larger, more elaborate horns can make swimming more difficult, but overall the range is stable and harmless.

The presence of horns and the pair number is not affected, with 2 horns always present.

Eyes & Ears

Hanasei have good night vision, but poor eyesight in general. They can recognize the shapes around them and a few colors, but their daylight and night vision are almost the same otherwise. Their eyes can have different shapes and colors, but the effect is purely visual as their eye sensors work the same regardless of their appearance.

Hanasei don't have visible ears, but a tympanic membrane around their cheek area, which is able to pick up vibrations both in and out of water. They have great hearing, and are more aware of vibrations such as tremors and footsteps. They can voluntarily close their inner ear and stop themselves from picking up sounds, a common method for falling asleep.

Mouth

Hanasei lack teeth, using their upper jaw protrusions to hold and rip food instead. They have a powerful bite, being able to hold down things with immense pressure. Their tongues function like a catapult, with the tip facing the inside of the mouth on a resting position and launched outwards when needed, their saliva being sticky and helping trap prey inside their mouths. With cooking and more efficient methods of getting food, this isn't a common practice anymore, unless one spotted a quick snack. Unlike the other sophonts, Hanasei are still able to eat raw meat and may supplement their normal diet with bugs, fish and other easy to snag creatures in between activities.

They have very powerful and sensitive taste buds, coupled with a taste disc that lets them distinct between minute differences in food. Their mouth, just like most of their organs, tend to take the most prominent color of their Aether.

Respiratory system & Speech

Hanasei has two different systems for breathing. Outside of water, their nostrils are open and air moves through their cavity into their respiratory organs, and their gills are used for channeling sound. Air can be directed to their larynx, which is specialized for manipulating air into sound similar to vocal cords, which is only connected to the gills and not nostrils. This separate system means Hanasei can talk while breathing, and their vocalizations are very impressive, being able to mimic almost any sound they hear with practice. They can alter these sounds with the opening and closing of the larynx openings and changing how open or closed their gills are. To keep their gills from drying, the parts used for respiration often retract or close, but Hanasei in drier climates must moisturize their gills at intervals to prevent internal damage.

Underwater, their nostrils close and their gills stay open. Most of their larynx close, and filter capillaries expand to better capture oxygen diffused in the water. This makes vocalization underwater impossible, and sign language is the most common replacement. Hanasei can have 2, 3 or 4 gills on each side of their neck, and the shape of the gill can be varied, creating "accents" for each Hanasei in their relaxed voice.

They have a good olfactory system, being one of their most reliable senses. They're able to smell the humidity in the air and incoming rains and droughts. Because this uses their nostrils, they're unable to smell anything underwater.

Body

Hanasei size and builds are diverse, with individuals building muscle mass, fat and other outside factors influencing how they look. Their proportions stay consistent, with necks around the same size of their torso, short arms and elongated legs bigger than the torso itself, but deviations aren't uncommon.

Limbs

Hanasei arms start with their shoulders placed at the lower area of their torso, and stop with hands on their hips. Despite the shorter length, they have impressive arm strength and weaker Hanasei are known to rival other species' average. This makes them great at carrying things, and grabbing and holding down prey and foes. Their hands are dexterous when the webbing is retracted, but they lose a lot of maneuverability when extended.

Their legs are long and muscular, granting them an upright walk. They're not very fast, averaging 7 km/h running speed, but they have great endurance and the ability to jump high vertical distances and can pounce forward if crouched. Their muscle system can lock into a crouching stance, a comfortable stance comparable to sitting. Their feet are digitigrade but their fingers are big and wide, with a large base, keeping their body in balance and stable at the cost of mobility and grace.

Tail

Hanasei tails are long, with a vertical caudal fin that often extends beyond the base and helps them swim. This fin can regenerate when damaged, and broken or rotten tissue can lead into an entire chunk or the fin removed to speed recovery and promote an even replacement.

Fins are classified into two types, regular and segmented. Regular fins are connected into one piece, while segmented fins are broken down into various fins of different sizes and shapes, similar to fish fins. No matter the type, their shapes are kept hydrodynamic and tailored for swimming. Sometimes, the size of the base tail will also be shorter or longer than average.

Hanasei swim in two ways: a horizontal wave movement and by kicking their legs. The former is done with the help of their tail fins and is the slower of the two, but costs less energy. Hanasei will often alter the surrounding current with Aether to make this movement faster, with an average of 11 km/h. Leg kicks are less common as long term swimming and rather used for short bursts of speed and distance, and the longer one uses it the more they'll tire and may be unable to swim without resting. The peak swimming speed of Hanasei is around 20 km/h, taking leg kicks into account. As they were ambush and endurance predators, the lack of speed was not an issue for them. Depending on their fin shape, individuals may have different ways of swimming.

Aether

Their natural Aether is Nam Aether. They make use of it to help their swimming and underwater hunting, and to keep themselves damp. They tend to cast Aether from their mouths, as their Aether glands are present on their throat.

In their breeding months, their Aether start producing cells for reproduction and lose their usual abilities. This months-long limitation leads Hanasei to not be involved with using their Aether proactively or learn new skills, preferring to rely on technology to harness and utilize Aether instead.

Reproduction

Egg

To create an egg, two or more Hanasei spit out and mix their Aether together in a body of water. The resulting foam will stick together and in 3 days will develop into an egg, and one healthy Hanasei can produce enough reproductive Aether to make 200 eggs. This can only happen in the breeding period of Hanasei, usually on the 2nd and 8th month of the year. Modern Hanasei societies will instead send their reproductive Aether to the labs of the area, which will store it to create eggs with more efficient mixing machines and incubators.

The Aether inside the egg will segregate itself into larva stem cells and the nutritious yolk. After 12~14 days, the egg will be completely dry and the larva will eclode. The volatility of Aether means many larva never form or form incorrectly, and these eggs are discarded and repurposed or eaten. Only 1 in 50 eggs actually eclode, and this high rate of failure leads Hanasei to not view eggs as their young or a new generation, but more of a vessel that can fail or succeed. They have no qualms with re-purposing eggs in food, experiments or any other procedure.

Larva

Larva, often called notes, are very different from their adult counterparts. They're not considered sapient when they first hatch, but their growth is rapid and by 3 months in, they'll have the intelligence of a one year old toddler and have legs and arm stubs growing, alongside the keratin helmet and an underdeveloped nostril. This growth is fueled by a great appetite, and Hanasei larvae are omnivores and will eat almost anything they can fit in their mouths.

At the 9th month, they'll have most of their limbs developed to their young proportions, but their respiratory system will need an additional 3 months to allow for respiration outside water. Larvae at this stage will take short dips into land to push their muscles and lungs, until they no longer need to return to water to breathe.

Young

Once a larva can leave the water, they're called a young. "Young" encompasses the children and teenager years, lumped together as they no longer share any major physical differences from each other or to adults. The rest of their growth will be in size and intellect, slowing down from the quick pace of their larval years into a more normal 20 or so years to reach maturity. The main exception are horns, which only start growing around their 5th year and can take over a decade to finish growing. Smaller horns may plateau faster.

[sizzlingcandyjellyfishhhhhh]

can you guys tell me some products/supplements that made having an ed easier? by easier I mean mitigating the physical side effects NOT making it easier to starve myself

for me keratin supplements and my space heater are both very important

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Crash Landings (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough sex, Dub con, sex pollen, degradation, pussy slapping, fingering, compromised ability to consent Rated: AdultSummary: After taking damage to his wings, Adam has no choice but to make an emergency landing in a clearing of purple flowers, unaware of the unique flora of hell. While he waits for his flight feathers to regrow, he's met with some rather unexpected side effects of exposure to Hyperrigidus Purpureus pollen. His luck this extermination had been shit but when a pretty little demoness all but trips over him, he is pretty sure his luck was about to change.

A flower fic for @redvexillum- the least I can do for designing the banners for RedFoxTober.

Adam soared through the air, spinning toward the ground as he tried to gather his wits. Feathers fluttered around him, knocked free by the force of the explosion and compromising his ability to take control of the nosedive he was currently stuck in. 

They would grow back quickly enough. In an hour or two he’d regrow the shed flight feathers enough to have lift again. In the meantime, he had no choice but to try and regain enough control of his descent before he crashed into some building or impaled his wing on a fucking tree branch or something.

A patch of purple caught his eye. A clearing, flat and fairly deserted. It was too close to that damned princess’s hotel for his liking, but it was his best option. It didn’t look like there was anyone nearby that could try to fuck up his chance for a breather. He hit the ground with explosive force, sending dirt and flowers into the sky. 

“Shit!” Adam yelled, batting clumps of dirt and flower petals as they rained down on him. “Fuck! Goddamnit.” 

The bitter taste of vegetation invaded his mouth as he inhaled, preparing to let out another string of outraged curses. Instead, he wheezed, coughing and sputtering out the offensive taste as he climbed out of the small crater he had created. 

As he walked, seeking shelter in the small patch of forest, Adam examined his wings. The flight feathers were in a state of ruin. Those that hadn’t been ripped out were singed or broken. Golden blood dripped from the tips of feathers where blood feathers not yet ready to emerge from their keratin casings had been broken open too early. 

Adam grunted, digging through the ragged feathers to find the bleeding numbs. He wrapped his fist around the first one he found and pulled. Pain stabbed through his wing but he kept the pressure steady, pilling the feather out of the skin of his wing. After tossing the bloody feather to the side, he put pressure on the opening until it clotted. 

“Fucking hot ass mother fucking weather.” Adam mumbled, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe, groaning when it did nothing to remove the sweat from his skin, instead rubbing along his battle helmet. Had it always been so fucking hot down here, or was it worse on the ground? “Fucking sweating my goddamn fuckin’ balls off.” 

Adam pulled the helmet from his head, desperate for some air. Sweaty brown hair stuck to his skin as he again wiped his forehead. He tossed it to the ground at his feet, needing his hands free to pull the baggy robes up and over his head. It was too fucking hot to be wearing them. Stupid fucking robes. 

The hot air caressed his arms, doing little to cool the fire that seemed to build inside him. He needed to sit down, get his bearings, and rip those bleeding feathers out. The sooner they were gone, the sooner they would start to regrow and he could go back to killing these lowly fucking cunts. 

He sat under a tree and got all of three feathers out before groaning, leaning back against the tree. It was too fucking hot. He fanned himself, but found no relief in the action. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, working the buckles free from the strappy leather shirt he wore. 

It was an unneeded layer of protection, but one he wore out of habit. Sinners couldn’t hurt him, not in any substantial way. That didn’t make taking blows any more fun, though. Clacking of metal and the groaning of leather seemed too loud in the patch of trees he took shelter in as he pulled the zipper down his chest. 

Hot air caressed his chest, doing little to cool the flushed skin. He just needed a few minutes to let the sweat dry, that was all. He was just trying to make sure he didn’t get a heat rash. 

“Fucking bullshit,” Adam groaned as he shifted, pants constricting around his thighs. The heat had him sweating everywhere, resulting in all of his clothes pulling at his skin. The grip on his cock was painful. 

“Stupid fuckin’ shit,” Adam groaned, as he worked the studded belt buckle around his hips free, working the fly of his pants open. This would look so bad if anyone found him like this. He just needed some fuckin’ airflow. 

No wonder everyone walked around hell half naked. It was so fucking hot. 

He wasn’t sure when he had pulled his cock out or when he had gotten hard. It hadn’t been intentional; he was just trying to get some airflow around his fucking balls. The sweat had them sticking to his legs, the pull of hairs against sweaty skin causing stinging discomfort. 

Somehow that led him here, to be sitting on the ground of a hellish forest with his cock in his fist. Sweat poured down his back as he stroked himself. The pace had started lazy, just a way to occupy himself while he let the wounds heal and feathers regrow. It was a distraction from the way his wings fucking itched.

Before long, his pace was disparate as he fucked into his hand. He squeezed and gripped; he caressed and thrusted and yet he could not find release. The oppressive heat of hell was keeping it from him. 

“Fuck,” he panted, thankful he was alone at least. 

Or he thought he was. 

Though he was too distracted to hear it, you ran through the forest. Bare feet slammed against the forest floor, not sparing a thought to the way the branches and rocks cut into flesh. It was better to be cut up by the forest than by the Exorcist that you were fleeing. 

Panting breaths slipped from your lungs as you ran, desperate to keep the whine from your voice. There was no way for you to know how well those winged killers could hear. Though you were fairly sure you had lost the one that had been hot on your tail before you ran into the cluster of tight trees off to the side of the road, you didn’t slow. 

The trees grew more sparse as you ran, feet leaving bloody smears against the dirty ground. With explosive force, you burst from the underbrush into a small clearing, hardly large enough to be called that. 

Pink hair flew into your face as you jerked back, tripping over roots as you tried and failed to find your footing. The last thing you had expected was to find a man in the forest, let alone one that looked so painfully human. 

You fell to the ground, hands just in front of his black leather boots, full of buckles and metal. For a moment, you just laid there, dazed and looking up at the man holding his erect member in his hand. 

He was so human looking, so soft in a way you hadn’t seen since landing in hell. Brown eyes looked down at you, wide. Metal necklaces and earrings glittered in the dim light as his fist moved slowly up his length, as if he couldn’t help himself. 

You blinked your unnaturally pink eyes at him, unsure what to do when faced with a human in hell before you took in the rest of the sight. A crumpled white and gold mass of fabric sitting at his hip, a black-horned helmet sat next to it. You gasped as you realized golden wings stretched out behind him, smears of golden blood marked the tree trunk he laid against. Above the fluffy boyish brown hair floated a golden halo. 

This man who looked so human was far more deadly of a killer than any of the demons in hell. 

“Please,” you whispered, rising onto your hands and knees. “I- I won’t tell anyone about this if you just let me go.” 

Adam’s eyes ran over you, taking in the dark marron of your sweatshirt and the ever so light pink of your pleated mini skirt. Such a contrast between modest and slutty. Horns and bat wings reminded him through his lusty haze that you were little more than just another disgusting sinner. 

“How are you not burning up?” Adam asked as his hand slowly moved down his cock again. “It’s so fucking hot here.” 

“I-” your eyes widened as you recognized the purple flower petals in his hair. “It’s not. It’s you, the… the flowers. It’ll go away in time. I should-” 

Adam lunged forward, grabbing you and pushing you down onto the ground. He sprang forward with such sudden force you hadn’t had a chance to finish your sentence, let alone try to escape. 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, let me go. I’m trying- I swear I’m trying to be better.” 

“What do you mean it’s the fucking flowers?” Adam hissed, sitting on your hips to ensure you couldn’t get away from him. You tried to ignore the way his cock stood out from his pants, bobbing with every move either of you made. 

“Their pollen,” you gasped, eyes wide as the first man grabbed your wrists, pinning you down and putting an end to your struggles. “It makes people horny.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Adam hissed, “How do I fix it?” 

“You just have to wait it out,” your breath caught in your lungs, hating how your sweater had ridden up in the struggle, exposing your abdomen. 

Adam leaned forward, his cock brushing directly against your skin as he prepared to say something. Instead, his eyes grew wide, and he groaned at the fleeting contact. “I’ve been doing that.”

“You just have to wait,” you whimpered as he folded over you, thrusting his cock lazily against your stomach. “You won’t be able to take care of it on your own.” 

“And with a partner?” Adam shook the shredded petals from his hair, sending dirt and bits of flower raining down on you, not sparing a thought to how it could land in your wide eyes. “If I had some to fuck?” 

“Faster,” you whispered. “Please, I don’t want to die.” 

“What if we made a deal?” Adam thrust his hips against you again, smearing precum along your skin. “That’s what you fuckin demons are all about, aren’t you? Deals?” 

“What?” 

“You help me ride out this fuckin’ bullshit,” Adam leaned closer, brown hair brushing against your pink hair in what surely had to be a strange sight. His wings fluttered out from his back, golden blood dripping onto the ground as he shifted, forcing a knee between your legs. “And I don’t kill you, this year at least. How’s that sound?” 

“You won’t kill me?” Your eyes grew wider as his knee pressed higher, pushing your thighs apart. “If… If we-” 

“You’re lucky, you know.” Adam said, taking both of your wrists in one large hand and shifting, letting his gloved hand run over the skin of your thigh, pushing your short shirt up around your waist. “Bitches fight over who gets to fuck me. You’ll be the only demon bitch who can say she fucked the first man. The fucking original dick. Fuck, you’re so lucky.” 

“I am,” you agreed, not feeling lucky in the slightest. “I’ll do it, please. Just don’t hurt me.” 

“Fuckin’ damn right you’ll do it,” he grabbed the band of your panties, a thong that didn’t cover much anyway, and pulled. The elastic cut into your skin, burning as it stretched. The band around your hip ripped first and then the gusset was cutting into your thigh. You spread your legs in a attempt to flee from the pain, opening your naked core to him. The ripped panties hung around your knee as he dropped them. 

Adam leaned back, taking in the sight of your pink cunt. It was darker than your pink skin, a rosy color that he was eager to get his hands on. 

You hated how your body flushed at the attention. Men like Adam were just your type. Fuck boys who took what they wanted. Assholes who used and took and demanded. His hand pushed your sweater up, greedily exposing your breasts. 

“No bra?” Adam tsked as he took in the sight of so much unnaturally pink skin. Your nipples were rosy and dark, much like your folds. “Fuckin’ slut,” Adam said as he harshly palmed your breast. 

“Ah!” you arched into his touch, body betraying you as his fingers dug into the flesh. The squeezing pressure let up for a moment before he was pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pain flashing through your mind. 

His hand left your breast, letting the warm air of hell soothe the pain. His touch was far from soft or teasing as he ran his hand down your body. Fingers dug into whatever softness he found. 

He positioned himself between your thighs. The way he brought his hand to his mouth was sensual. He pinched the leather of his gloves between his teeth, first to pull open the buckle fastening the glove around his wrist and then at the tips of the fingers. He tossed the black glove to the side, letting it fall atop the heap of his robes. 

Your hips bucked as he wasted no time running his fingers through your folds. He was greedy, selfish. There was no teasing in his touches. 

“Fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, wiggling a finger deep into your hole. “So fuckin wet. You want to be fucked dirty, don’t you?” 

You whimpered, hips working as his finger thrust slowly into you. The sensation expanded as he entered another finger into you, thrusting in and out. There was little resistance. Your opening was shamefully wet. 

“What has you so wet, hum?” Adam asked, fucking his fingers into you harsher. You hated how the squelching sound of his fingers in you filled the clearing. 

This wasn’t something you wanted, not really. But you were willing to do it, to fuck him if it meant he wouldn’t kill you. What you wanted and how your body responded were two very different things. 

“You’re fuckin soaked,” Adam sneered as he pulled his fingers from you, holding them up so you could see the way your slick covered them, strings of it hanging between the digits as he spread them. “Fuckin’ eager whore, aren’t you?” 

He kneed your legs apart, slotting his hips between your legs as he lowered himself down. The head of his fat cock nestled against your folds as he looked down at you as if you were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. 

“What is it, hm?” Adam asked as he parted your folds with his head, moaning at the wetness that pooled around him. “You’re suck a fuckin’ slut. Going to let the fuckin’ first man fuck you in the woods. Fuck you on the dirty ground.” 

You moaned at the burning stretch of his head pushing into your opening. He hadn’t spared a second to run his cock through the folds, to collect the slick on him, to ease his entry. He didn’t give a shit about you as he sank deeper. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, “going to get fucked by the general.” 

“Please,” you whined, hips wiggling as you tried to work your slick over his cock and ease the burning strain of your hole around him. “Just fuck me,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Adam moaned as he spread your walls open with his length, slowly bottoming out. “Look at me while I fuck you, bitch.” 

You fluttered your eyes open, coming face to face with the angel general. A blush colored his cheeks, flushed from the heat the flowers put in his body. His cock spread you wide and reached deep. The first man had been gifted with an impressive tool, far more sizable than any of the men you had been with in life or in death. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, back arching as he thrust into you. Your nipples scraped against buckles and the zipper, a painful change in sensation that paired with the stretch of him. 

“That’s right,” Adam said, pulling out as you whined. “Beg for it.” 

It took all of Adam’s self control to not plunge deep into your sopping wet cunt. Instead, he pulled further back and grabbed you, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. 

“Please,” you whispered, begging less for Adam’s cock and more for him to get on with it. 

“I don’t believe you want it,” Adam slapped your ass, the stinging pain forcing a yelp from your lips. The sound of three more sharp strikes echoed through the forest, each one blooming into a heated pleasure that made it hard for you to remember that you didn’t want this. 

“Please,” you begged, less sure of what you were begging for as you leaned back on your knees, seeking the full feeling of his heavy cock in your cunt. “Please, fuck me.”

“That’s right,” Adam sneered, smile curling as he fucked into you harshly. The sudden punch of his cock against your cervix knocked the air out of your lungs. “Fucking beg.” 

He refused to move, twitching inside her as he waited. Like hell was he going to let some fuckin hell flower control him? It was one thing for the fucking flower to make him fuck a slutty little fucking sinner like this, but he would not let it decide how he fucked. Pulling out, he sat and waited, watching your core clench, seeking him out. 

Adam was the original dick. He was fucking since fucking was a thing. He didn’t need some fucked up hell flower to tell him how to fuck. He spat, watching the glob as it hit her quivering hole. 

“Please,” you whimpered as you felt his spit splatter over your folds. “Fuck me.” 

Your control was slipping. There was a line between wanting to fuck Adam because he was going to kill you otherwise. Looking down at the ground, you saw the shredded purple of the petals, knowing full well in that instant why you were so wet.

“Fuck,” Adam moaned, thrusting harshly inside of you again, knocking the air from your lungs and sending you face down onto the ground. “Just like that, bitch.” 

You blinked your eyes, trying to breathe as he fucked harshly into you. That purple petal, hardly more than a shred danced on the dirt, carried by your gasped cries. His belt stung as it bit at your ass, each thrust slamming it into you. 

“Fuckin’ take my fat cock. Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ lucky.” He moaned, thrusting into you as he folded over you. Strong hands grabbed your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples under his hands. “Fucked by the first fucking man. Fucking dirty slut, you like that, don’t you?” 

You moaned deeply in response. That wasn’t enough of an answer for him, though. Adam’s hand left your breast, only to swing up and slap it in a stinging blow. You clenched around his cock, moaning deeply at the strike. 

“Fucking whore,” Adam said, “answer me.” 

“Yes,” you moaned into the dirt. “Fuck, yes.” 

“Good slut,” Adam praised, pinching your nipple as a reward. “Who’s fuckin’ you?”

“A-Adam,” drool ran from the corner of your cheek, collecting on the ground as he fucked into you harder. 

“That’s right,” Adam said, “Right fuckin there. Take it. Take my fuckin’ load like the greedy bitch you are.” 

He came with a moan, never slowing his thrusts. You cried out at the burning heat of the ropes of his hot cum, shooting into you without warning. His pace never slowed, even as his seed stung in the small rips his size had caused around your opening. That pain was just one more thing that bloomed into pleasure. 

“Please,” you panted, “want to, want to cum.” 

“No,” Adam said, pulling her up onto her knees by the breasts. “You can fucking cum when I’ve had enough.” 

“Adam,” you whined, as he continued to fuck up into you. The change in position had your back arched and the painful size of Adam had him pressing against your stomach with every thrust. 

“Fuckin’ whore,” Adam said, “Bitch ass slut,” his sweaty head rested on her shoulder as he continued fuckin up into her. “Why the fuck am I still so fuckin’ hard?

“F-f- fuck,” you moaned, struggling to say anything. When you reached down, hoping to stroke your clit and push yourself over the edge, Adam grabbed your wrists. “Fucking flowers.” 

“Going to fuck you till I’m done,” he promised, “fuckin use you up.” 

That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Your core clenched around him as you let your head fall back, resting on the shoulder of the man who was driving you to such heights of pleasure. 

“Please,” you whined, “Please- fuck! Please use me,” 

“Damn right,” Adam moaned, breath cascading down your chest, washing over your overheated breasts. “Fuck. Best cock you’ve had all fuckin year. Best fuckin’ of your life, huh?” 

“Y-yes!” you cried out as he slapped your breast, nipple stinging from the impact. “Best fuck- fucking.” 

“Never gonna have someone as good as me,” Adam promised, running his hand down your body, pressing into your stomach. Pressure built inside you as you were pushed closer to the edge. His cum and your slick poured down your legs, smearing into his leather pants as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. 

“No.” you flexed your fingers, nails digging into your chest where Adam’s still gloved hand had your hands pinned. “Please, please, Adam, please, I want to-” 

“Fucking dickmaster,” Adam grunted as your core squeezed the life out of his cock, “Call me dickmaster- ah! Fuck, when you cum.” Reaching down, he ran the pads of his fingers over your clit, stroking it. You thrust your hips as he worked his fingers over you. Drool ran down your chin as he continued spearing you on his massive cock. “You can do that, can’t you, my little demonic slut?”

“Yes,” you chased the pleasure he was giving you, hips working against him as he fucked you dumb. “Fuck, yes. Please. Please. So close, Adam.” 

His fingers left you for a moment before a stinging slap hit your clit. You cried out, tears running down your face as he fucked you through the pain. He slapped your swollen clit three more times, driving you closer to the edge with each blow. 

“What the fuck did I say, bitch?” Adam grunted, fucking into your sloppy hole harder, twitching inside you. “Fuck, so tight. What are you- fuck- going to call me?” 

“Dick-” you gasped, legs and small bat wings trembling. He let your hands go, reaching up and wrapping a hand around one of your horns and yanking your head back. He forced your back to arch, ass pressing into him as he continued thrusting harshly, chasing his own release again. “Dickmaster, fuck.” 

“Good girl,” Adam praised, catching himself off guard as he turned his head, planting a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Good fuckin’ slut. Come on now, cum on the first cock. Come on my cock.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped, back aching at the way he had forced you to arch it. He slapped your clit again and again, fingers running over the slick nub between blows. “Fuck, fuck,” you cried out as he yanked on her head again, “I’m going to, fuck, Dickmaster, I’m going to-” 

“Go on, slut.” Adam said, yanking at your horn as he slapped your clit harder. Each strike clenched your cunt around him as he moaned. “Cum on my cock,” 

You did, with a scream that echoed through the forest. “Adam!” You chanted, switching it out with “Dickmaster,” when he slapped your overly sensitive clit again and again. 

“Fucking slut,” Adam grunted, shoving you forward as you convulsed around his cock. Strong hands gripped your hips, dragging them up without a care for the way your nipples scraped against the ground as he fucked into you, riding each wave of your orgasm. “Fuckin’ whore, cuming on my cock.” 

“Ah!” You couldn’t make your limbs work as each wave of your orgasm crashed into eachother, blurring together in searing white hot pleasure, “D-dick, dick… Master. Fuck, Dickmaster.” 

“That’s fuckin’ right,” Adam said, seed spilling into your cunt, squelching out of your hole with every thrust he made into it. “Fuckin’ whore,” Adam whispered as he collapsed over her, spent.

Both gasped for breath, trying and failing to fill burning lungs you shuddered, twitching around his cock. Above you, in the sky, holy trumpets sounded, as they always did, twice a year to single the beginning and the end of the extermination. 

You survived another year, doing whatever you had to do in order to make it out the other side alive. Never had you thought fucking the angel general would be what it took. 

Adam pulled from you, his cock leaving, letting a river of his cum run from your hole. It tickled as it trickled down your folds. For a moment, he stood over you, running his ungloved hand through his sweaty hair. Finally, the sweat on his skin was drying and his cock softened. 

He wasn’t sure what to say to you at the moment, so he said nothing, tucking his dick away in silence. You laid on the ground, ass in the air, skirt still thrown up around your hips, seed running from your hole and dripping off your clit onto the dirty ground. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he grabbed his phone. 

He walked around the side, taking in the fucked out look on your face. The sweater you wore, a mockery of modesty, was bunched around your shoulders, displaying your breasts. 

You hardly registered the sound of a camera shudder snapping as Adam took pictures. Your wings twitched as you lay gasping for air. Adam moved around you, ensuring he could look back on this and know exactly the way your pink hair fell across your fucked out face, the way your nipples looked dragging across the ground and most importantly, the way your cunt dripped with his seed. 

“Thanks for a good time,” He said, kneeling behind you for a moment for a closer look. “Fucked yourself into another year in hell, good job slut.” 

“Adam,” you moaned, blinking at the sound of his voice. 

“That’s right, whore-” A wet slap echoed through the trees along with your lusty yelp as he delivered one final blow to your abused cunt. “Don’t ever forget how you got yourself another year. Maybe you can remind me next year.” 

You groaned, tears running down your face, dripping into the dirt as you came back to yourself. Blurry eyes watched as Adam slipped the robe over his long frame and shoved the helmet over his head. He spared you a digitized wink as he fluttered his wings, leaving you exposed as he took off, joining his band of bloodthirsty killers as you lay exposed on the ground. 

Just as he had promised, he left you used up. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[tachvintlogic]

Hoof Trimmers IN SPACCCCCCEEEE!!!!

Based on the post about aliens probably having more than our mere 2 sets of limbs and the post about how our domesticated animals could be unusually large and dangerous compared to other planets.

longer AO3 version: link here (for people with AO3 accounts only)

Words: 1972

Summary: The newest human crewmate's background in farming ends up being able to help a coworker with a sore, injured foot more than anyone could've predicted.

Jósűrha took a step and bit back a hiss as zir middle left leg touched the ground. Ze flinched and lifted the leg back up while zir sore front and back legs took on the extra weight. The block on the middle leg had worn away, and zir leg hasn’t gotten any better since. Now ze needed someone to help zem put a new block on. Katársmun, who put it on last time, was busy at the moment, but ze knew exactly who ze could ask.

Humans were strange with their measly two legs, so unlike most species they were perfectly capable of doing their own first-aid without help, but they were more than happy to assist their fellow sapients who couldn’t reach their back half by themselves. The ship’s newest human crewmate would have a much easier time applying the block than zir other coworkers.

“Hey Officer Mackenzie! I need your help with something.”

The ship’s new resident human turned around as ze walked toward kem, and then frowned and bent to the side looking at zir feet. “Is there something wrong with your feet?”

“Yes, actually. The block on one of my claws has worn away, and obviously I can’t put another one on myself.”

Ke bent down further to get a better look at zir painful hoof. “Yeah, I can tell block on it is barely there. It explains why you’re walking like a lame cow. Have you gotten your feet trimmed recently?”

“Well, no. There aren’t many good places that can trim Zágjós feet. Wait, how did you know I needed a trim?”

“Your feet pretty closely resemble ungulates on Earth. You see my fingernails? On ungulates, their nails are giant pads made of keratin that they walk on like your hooves. Most of the other sapients I’ve seen don’t walk on the very tip of their limbs like ungulates or yourself.” That was true. Zágjós were one of the few species that needed to get their entire feet trimmed, which is why places to do that became scarcer and scarcer the further from Zágjós space you were.

“You seem to know a lot about feet.”

“Well, I used to work on a cow and sheep farm on Earth. A lot of our domesticated livestock are actually ungulates.” Having livestock species was quite common among spacefaring species. It was considered an important part of the path to FTL technology. While humans didn’t have the largest livestock species, they did have the largest livestock relative to their size.

“So do you think you can help me put a new cushion on?”

“Sure.”

They walked to zir quarters, where ze had a suspension bed (as zir species slept standing up), personal effects, and a basic first-aid kit specialized for zir species. Mackenzie opened the med kit and pulled out a block without ze having to tell kem what one looks like and a hoof trimming knife that came standard with the kit (not that ze knew how to use it).

“So does the block go on with glue or--?”

You remove the cap on the sticky side and then hold it on the claw for 30 seconds to set.”

“Alright, can you get in the suspension bed? It would be easier if you were standing without putting weight on your feet.”

“Sure.” Ze got in zir suspension bed and immediately felt relief with zir feet not entirely on the ground anymore. Mackenzie took some time to improvise a stand to hold up zir hoof and keep it still. It was a similar setup to the one at a trimmer (not that ze had been to one in a while).

“Wow, your hooves look…exactly like a cow’s hoof.”

“Should I be offended? Isn’t that livestock?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I spent a lot of time trimming cow hooves back on the farm to keep them healthy. Hell, your hoof trimming knife looks about the same. It’s sharp on the sides with the hook on the end. I’m assuming I can remove the block with the knife, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Mackenzie started trimming away at the block, muttering this would be much easier if ke had a grinder. When the old block was gone, Mackenzie hummed and ze turned zir neck to see what ke was doing. Ke was pursing kes lips in a way that zir emotional recognition course in diversity training told zim meant the human did not like what ke was looking at.

“Something wrong?”

“What does the pain feel like?”

“Kinda like a pressure in my hoof.”

“Sounds like an abscess with some detached horn above it. One your bad claw, there’s some definitely detached horn at the heel of your outer claw and a white line defect near the toe, or at least it would be if the resemblance to a cow hoof isn’t just superficial. The wall horn is also thicker than it should be on a cow, which could be overgrowth or just what hooves of your species are supposed to look like. There’s also some slight bruising on the inner portion of the claw you had a block on, and it has small crack between the wall horn and the sole horn which could turn into a serious white line defect if it isn’t taken care of.”

Ke put the foot back down. “Hold on, I need to do some research on Zágjós feet.”

Mackenzie left and ze tried really hard to relax and ignore the pain in zir foot until Mackenzie came back with the captain. Mackenzie looked excited.

“So good news! Your feet are extremely similar to cow’s feet. The only main difference is that your foot is supposed to be held 5° steeper.”

“So?”

“So I can help your foot!” Mackenzie pulled zir middle left foot back on the stand and started slicing away at the bad claw with the trimming knife. It hurt, feeling the trimming knife put more pressure on the claw that felt like it was about to burst.

“Mackenzie requested that you have some time off because you’re having trouble walking,” said the captain.

“Yeah, there aren’t a lot of places to get my hooves trimmed at our ship’s recent stops.”

“Well, tell me next time our ship routes force you to go without care or routine maintenance. And that goes for all crew so this kind of thing never happens again.”

“Thanks captain, I—” Ze gasped as the pain in zir feet suddenly lifted. The pressure inside the hoof was gone! Ze turned zir neck around and saw Mackenzie wiping pus off kes face.

“What happened?” asked the captain.

“Well, I found the abscess. There was a lot of pus in there. Do you feel better?”

“Yes! That is so much better!”

“Let me see,” said the captain, walking behind Mackenzie. “Stars, that was under your foot!?”

“Yeah,” said Mackenzie, “it’s worse than it looks, too. You see this dark hoof horn above where I opened the abscess just on the border? It got darker as I thinned it out, so it’s not pigment. It means there’s a cavity under there, and all this horn is detached and needs to be removed,” ke explained as ke lifted the detached horn around the abscess and cut it off in circular cuts with the hook of the knife, revealing more pus and opening the hole.

After just a few cuts, ke revealed the abscess stretched the entire width of the sole horn, and then ke started shaving down the horn between the abscess and the heel to remove the bulk of it.

“Now that I’ve revealed the abscess,” ke continued to explain, “I know how much I can shave off. Fortunately, it seems to be only filled with pus. I haven’t found any lesions or ulcers. It’s just a giant cavity.”

“What could’ve caused it?”

“Probably an accident,” ke said, “could’ve bumped the hoof against something or turned too sharply on a corner. With regular trimming, it could’ve been nipped in the bud before it was a problem, but without it, it just got worse and worse.”

“And at the heel, there’s this detached horn I can just lift up, which tells me,” ke said as ke put the knife under the horn and cut down, “that it goes all the way to the abscess.”

“That’s the entire foot,” said the captain.

“Yep,” said Mackenzie, “can’t imagine trying to walk on that.”

“I don’t need to imagine,” said Jósűrha.

Mackenzie started trimming the good hoof, getting rid of the crack and modeling out the area with the bruised horn to take some of the weight off that area, and then searching through the med kit to find something to help grind the tips of the toes to bring both claws to the same length. The “grinder” at the bottom of the med kit wasn’t as good as the grinder ke used to use on cows on the farm, which ke was more than happy to complain about.

Once it was suitably prepared, ke put on a different, curved block that would avoid the bruised horn area on the good claw. Ke pressed it into the claw for 30 seconds to make sure the glue bond was secure.

“So given your foot’s condition. I’m going to have to cut most of your ship duties. Rest up and heal. Understood?”

“Yes captain.”

“And Mackenzie, you’re doing a great job, even though it’s not the job you were hired for.”

“Thanks, captain,” ke said, nodding.

“You know, speaking of routine care important for the health and comfort of our officers, Katársmun has a condition that prevents xe from shedding xis coat when xe should. You wouldn’t know how to do a full body shave, would you?

“Hmm, if it’s like shearing a sheep, then I could take to xem about it. I’d want to take a course on it and get more familiar Katársmun’s species first if xe doesn’t need shearing now.”

“Of course, it’s just something I wanted to mention. Well, as you were. I’ll call the cleaning bot to take care of the mess,” said the captain gesturing to the pus and cut horn on the floor.

As the captain left, ke stopped pressing into the block and tested its fit to make sure it was secure, then ke dressed the bad claw with supplies from the med kit. “Okay, I’m going to put your foot down. Try to stand on it in a way that feels natural.” Ke put zir foot down and checked the angle. It was steep enough for a cow but not enough for a Zágjós. Ke pulled the foot back on the stand and started cutting the block to adjust the angle.

When ke put the hoof down again, the angle was perfect, and Jósűrha didn’t feel any pain. It was almost unreal after feeling that pressure in zir hoof for so long. “Now for the other claws since you did say you haven’t gotten a trim in a while. I’m start with the back left.”

Jósűrha didn’t have a way to argue with that. “That’s fine,” ze said as Mackenzie moved to the back left foot and started trimming. “There’s a little bruising on the inner sole area that I can model out, and some overgrowth on the toes. Remember to tell me if there’s any soreness or pain.”

“Sure. That foot feels fine.”

“Good. It’s nice working on someone who can talk to me for a change.”

“People are better clients than cows are, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah, and people are also polite enough to not start pooping while I’m doing their back legs.”

Ze suppressed a chitter and tried to keep zir foot very still as ke worked. Yes, asking the human crewmember was the best choice.

[evolutionsvoid]

While the hair fields offer valuable resources for any household or village, like any wild place, one should be wary of danger. Even in a place as luscious as this, caution should be taken. For stalking these fields are predators, with one of the most common being the Razorbacks. These large fleas are on the hunt for prey, using their thin bodies to slip through the thick hairs with ease. They are quiet and they are fast, usually traveling in packs of three to five. Usual targets are beasts like the field louse and demodon, which they sneak up on and take down in a flash. Their powerful hind limbs allow them to pounce with great speed and strength, and their modified fore limbs are like giant fangs to pierce prey. They typically try to blindside their target and attack where they cannot reach. For the likes of demodons, they try to get them from the side, targeting between the rows of legs so that these large limbs block the brunt of the spiny tail's attempts to thrash them.

Their weapons and numbers make them efficient hunters, and their packs are highly coordinated to pull off these attacks. Pack leaders are typically signified by having the largest bladed crest upon their back, usually grown due to receiving more food than the others. These same sharp growths can also serve as weapons in a pinch, particularly against predators who would threaten them. They will launch themselves at their foe and spin their bodies, turning them into a razor disc that can cleave deep into flesh. Due to the spinning and the use of their own body as a projectile, their aim is not the greatest. This is why it isn't used for hunting and more for fighting off attackers, as often the mere threat of being sawed in half by this is enough to drive away foes, which means they don't have to land the hit for it to be effective.

As predators who can down a variety of prey, Razorbacks don't hesitate to put man on the menu if there are no better options. Obviously a nice juicy demodon would feed them for far longer, but one doesn't always have the luxury to be picky. Thus, folk who go into these fields to harvest keratin or eggs need to be wary and armed. Keep an eye on the hair, and watch for any movements that don't match the natural flow. With a sharp eye, you may be able to spot the tips of their blades poking out in shorter patches. If one does suspect they are being stalked by Razorbacks: do not panic and do not run. They are counting on fear driving prey to blind escape, and they are most certainly faster than you. Instead, have your group go back to back, so that you have no blind spots. If they charge, stand your ground, as it is often a fake out that is meant to make you run. Stand tall, try to make yourself look bigger and make a ton of noise. Razorbacks rely on ambush and striking weak points to drop prey, so if this stealth and surprise is taken away from them, they are less likely to attack. And if you are by yourself in the hair field without anyone to watch your back.....well that was a mistake you shouldn't have made today.

Though Razorbacks tend to be seen as scary predators of these fields, there have been instances where they can be trained as hunting companions. Beastmasters obviously are capable of such a feat, but some more regular folk have been able to rear them from larvae and develop a partnership. With strong senses, quick speed and sharp blades, they serve well as trackers and ambushers. Some fools have suggested that trained Razorbacks are finer hunters than hyaenas, which may be true in some areas, but one must remember that these bugs are not fully domesticated like those beasts. As social creatures in need of a pack leader, there can be times where even trained Razorbacks begin to wonder about their status in this strange "pack." Running into others of their kind may awaken a need within them, or the stumbling of their owner may present an opportunity of "advancement..."

------------------

"Razorback"

Alright, last of the hair field denizens! For now at least. Also, this is like round two or three of me turning fleas into wolves.

[lavender-inkwell-99]

Robot HRT: Month 2

Things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl. I can feel them inside my skin, and muscle, and sinew, and fat, and bone, and marrow, and meat. Tirelessly toiling away as their programming dictates. Unmaking and remaking all that I am. It hurts so good.

She looks in the mirror and studies her face. Nigh imperceptible to the human eye, nanoscopic serpents slithers under the skin. One transits across her bloodshot eyeball. Its metallic flitter fading in and out of sight as its orbit passes over her pupil.

At her roots, greasy, blonde keratin fades into a raven, polycarbonate sheen. It feels like razor wire as it inches its way out of my scalp. Stubbles paints her jaw and neck - fully organic, yet when she tries to shave the repugnantly sensitive skin wails out in agons. Each stroke of the razor a million needling daggers through her nerves. So for now she’s given up.

Her gaze turns downward at her nude form. Once abundantly plump, it has all but deflated over the past eight weeks. Some fat still pads her form, but the skin has not retracted with the shrinkage of lipids. It sags and wrinkles like a weighted bed sheet draped over a child for Halloween.

I grab my loose, distended skin around my stomach. Underneath she can feel herself - soft, but far too smooth and formed. A decidedly artificial sensation.

Searing pain arcs through her skull. Her synapses exploding in agony at the lightning storm raging in her head. Splitting headaches are an all too common side effect as the graymatter is slowly reprocessed into silica and circuitry. The existentially agonizing reality of becoming wetware.

And with these changes come certain urges. Not a day goes by where a loss in concentration does not lead to it taking a bite out of a soda can, computer, or any such sufficiently artificial product. The silica, metal, and plastics fueling all these changes. Mouth bleeding its warm, earthy tang as the sharp alloys and polymers shred my mouth.

My only solace through all this is that she will be all gone soon enough, and only it will remain.

Author's Note: Apologies for the long delay between part 1 and part 2. Soon after releasing part 1 and beginning work on part 2 I got a full-time job, moved, and a bunch of other stuff. Hoping to resume at least some semblance of regular posting on this blog

[eorzean-tale]

FFxivWrite2024 - Prompt #2: Horizon

The Goddess kissed the golden scales on the youth’s back, reflecting Her light into his eyes and blinding him to their details. He’d been inspecting them without realising it as they waited for Her to bloom over the horizon to greet another day. It had only been a few short moons, and yet the Tia’s back had gone from looking like a cub’s to that of a man grown. It hadn’t come without cost. Scale Singing was a delicate art, each individual scale was lovingly crafted so it looked like the real deal - as if actual keratin had been sung straight out of soft skin. 

It took bells to draw them out, entire suns sometimes, not to mention copious amounts of gold powder for their colouring. And venom, of course. Every single scale was meant to inoculate a Golden Viper to a different snake’s venom. Normally it took years for someone to go from nearly bare-backed to having scales all over his shoulders, neck, and upper back. L’rkah had missed those years though, when the tribe had lost its way and left him adrift. Now he had made up for them, showing his grit by dealing with the side-effects of so many drawn on his skin in such a short amount of time without complaint.

He was ready, L’khua, Sun Nunh of the Golden Vipers, realised with a start as he blinked away the blindness that the golden light had left him with. And he was ready, too. The old Nunh needed a moment, suddenly feeling fluttery and nervous. Like he had been, when he’d been the Tia seeking to take up the Duty so many seasons ago. 

Khua stepped forward, gently getting in between Rkah and their chieftain, Sahali, right as they had spread their arms to welcome the Goddess. The youth shot him a confused glance, and he could feel Sahali’s gaze stabbing daggers at the back of his head as she wondered about this intrusion.

A single, firm nod was all he needed. The Nunh could see the understanding in Rkah’s golden eyes. Saw those fluttering nerves reflected back in them until he steeled himself. The both of them stepped forward, setting themselves apart.

They circled slowly, the whole tribe - Ananta and Miqo’te alike - like one being as they let the Goddess’ morning light wash over their bodies. As the ritual came to a close, the air became pregnant with expectation. Eyes that had been closed in private prayer opened to see the pair of them standing there, now hand in hand, their faces turned towards the Goddess. Khua could swear he heard an audible gasp or two, and fought to keep himself from smiling.

It felt good, this. He felt like the Sun Nunh again. For real, not just in name. If the last thing he did as their Sun Nunh was elevate a promising successor, well. He figured after the hardship his tribe had gone through, that was more than he could ask for. A fitting end to him holding the Sacred Duty. 

The boy’s - nay, the other man’s - hand was warm and pleasant to hold. His grip firm but not crushing. They faced one another, and the dance began. Slow at first. Intimate in the sense that he felt like a father, guiding his son. They weren’t related by blood like that, but to a Sun Nunh all the youngsters of the tribe were his cubs, even those born of a previous Nunh or their Moon Nunh brothers. 

Rkah stepped in, and Khua backed off, only to change course and reverse, having the youngster slide backwards. The Tia was grinning now, like he wasn’t nervous at all anymore. Khua found he was doing the same, enjoying himself more than he had in a long time.

They turned, letting the Goddess catch on their scales to send golden reflections into the eyes of a now excited tribe. A huntress started singing in the ancient tongue - all purrs and hisses, and soon other voices rose to compliment hers with rhythmic melody. Pure and wild like nature herself. 

Tia and Nunh called on their Inner Flame, asking the Goddess for the fire that gave name to their Flame Dance. She granted it, and multi-coloured fire sprang from them, whirling around the pair in a frolic of their own. Some of the Ananta shook the rattles on the end of their tails while the Miqo’te added a beat with stomps of their feet. 

The mood was joy and celebration as the pair circled one another. The dance was different now. Still intimate, but closer to the jaunts and shows of prowess of the Run Rite Dances. A tease and preview of what was to come, meant to get the blood pumping. It worked like a charm, and soon they were no longer two. Everyone rushed forward, absorbing them into their midsts and showing that, they too, were still part of the whole. Part of the tribe. They spend most of the early morn like this, dancing and singing in spontaneous celebration. 

Khua was slightly out of breath by the time Sahali found him in the crowd, her eyes glittering with anticipation and pride. “Finally,” she simply told him, and he nodded his agreement. Let the Sun Rites begin. 

[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 1

( Trying something different, gang.  After drawing that silly picture of 035 and 049 as toddlers, the idea wouldn’t let go.  ‘[Character] gets turned into a kid’ is generally a fluff trope, but I do enjoy taking fluff tropes and playing them serious.  Also it’s a low-stakes exercise to get back into writing regularly again.  This is probably just going to be short chapters since I plan on just banging it out without thinking too hard. )

Outer Child, chapter 1

Warnings: none

Words: 750~

------

  "The Serpent's Hand had discovered an anomalous object," said Dr Colin Combs, the researcher currently studying SCP-049 and related phenomena.  "Which our people took from them.  Then the Serpents Hand sent their own strike force to get it back."

  Dr Victoria West, these days contained as SCP-049-3, knew there had been an attack three nights before.  The alarms had gone off but the trouble hadn't reached Light Containment.  This was the first time she was getting any details, even when she asked.

  She stood beside Combs, in the observation room of a small testing chamber, hidden from the entities inside by a one-way mirror.  The chamber was divided in half by a transparent barrier, 049 on one side and 035 on the other.  They were ignoring each other - 049 seated on the floor, glancing about nervously while 035 danced around, singing to itself.

  Victoria said nothing.  Combs cleared his throat and continued.  "In the confusion, 035 breached containment.  It then went to breach 049.  We don't know if they planned to find you next or just attack the Serpent's Hand agents."

  It was probably the only reason the Foundation tolerated Victoria's relationship with 049 and 035 at all - it kept 035 somewhat under control.  Regular visits with 049 and Victoria kept 035 and less inclined to mayhem, and when it did breach, it wouldn't cause lasting harm to Foundation personnel.  Victoria had no control over 035, it just knew that it had to compromise if it wanted her to love it.  She had to make her own compromises as well.

  She didn't look away from the testing chamber.  "And then?"

  "035 and 049 ended up in the middle of a skirmish between our agents and the Serpent's Hand," Combs continued.  "The object the Serpent's Hand were trying to steal back from us activated, catching three of our agents, four of theirs, 035, and 049 in its effect.  The affected humans were taken to another Site to try to help them."

  Now Victoria looked over at Combs.  "Why wasn't I told earlier?"

  "Because you're not a Foundation researcher anymore," Combs reminded her flatly.  Becoming anomalous wasn't an automatic firing, but an intimate relationship with an SCP entity was.  Victoria hadn't intended for things to go so far with 049 when she started talking to him afterhours, but they had, and later 035 invited itself along because it and 049 were, as 049 put it once, bound and together.  She'd ended up marrying them both, sort of, because she'd come to realise she needed them both, and they'd needed her.

  Except now, both of Victoria's spouses had been anomalously transformed into toddlers.

  "We ran some tests," said Combs as Victoria returned her attention to the two small entities.  "Physically, 049 still has a keratin mask and his robes are part of his body and all his other unusual traits are there, and 035 is an exoskeletal other-dimensional alien filled with black goo.  However, their effects are weakened - 049's touch no longer kills, it just causes unconsciousness.  He might still sense the Pestilence - he would start crying around some people for no discernable reason.  035's acid can't burn, it's about as dangerous as lemon juice now.  They seem to think like the three-year-olds they appear to be.  We haven't been able to get much information out of them because, well, they're toddlers and they don't trust us."

  "The only reason I was told of this was because the Foundation wants me to try to interview them," said Victoria.  "You hope they'll remember me enough to trust me."

  "Yes.  049 seemed to accept me as a safe adult more than he did the others, but we don't have a connection."

  "I don't know how to deal with children, Combs."  Victoria had the maternal instincts of a witch in a gingerbread house.

  "But you do know how to deal with 049 and 035."

  This time she rounded on the man fully.  "I am - was? - married to them, Combs!  And now they're goddamn toddlers!  That's weird even by Foundation standards!"

  Combs took a step back - he'd never developed the unflappable poker face most researchers had.  "Look at it this way - do you trust anyone else to look after them properly?"

  That pulled Victoria up short.  She'd been a Foundation researcher for twenty years before being fired.  She knew how the Foundation operated and she wasn't going to leave her anomalies to them while they were helpless.

[semolinaart]

OPTIMIZATION OF THE PROTOCOL OF TWO-STEP QUARTZ DOUBLE-SIDED DONOR-ACCEPTOR ÆTERIAL PRESERVATION TO PRESERVE THE VITALISTIC PROPERTIES OF SERPENS HYDRARGYRI CINNABAREA PSEUDOTISSUE SAMPLES (WITH COMMENTS OF SERPENS HYDRARGYRI CINNABAREA)

N.E. Psheno, PhD, Associate Professor, Department of Alchemy and Astrology 1, Senior Researcher 2

S.S. Sonechko, PhD Student, Department of Alchemy and Astrology 1

V.R. Avdeenko, Master's Student, Department of Geoalchemy 3

A.L. Chamaedaphne, D.Sc., Professor of the Department of Alchemy and Astrology 1, Head of the Laboratory of Alchemy 4

Ahikar, consultant astrologer, serpent of cinnabar mercury (Serpens hydrargyri cinnabarea) 5

1 University, Saratov

2 Institute for Problems of Evolution and Systematics of Mythoanimalia, Saratov

3 Institute of Mining, Geology and Geotechnology, Krasnoyarsk

4 Research Institute of Mythozoology named after academician F.Shch. Shershen, Saratov

5 Ptitsa Mountain, Spirit Valley, Ergaki Natural Park, Krasnoyarsk Territory

Abstract

The two-step qdd-ÆP is a powerful tool that can be a solution to the problem of the preservation of pseudotissue samples from Alchemiangues. We optimized the protocol of this method to preserve the vitalistic properties of Serpens hydrargyri cinnabarea pseudotissue samples for a period of time sufficient to study aspects of the pseudocellular structure of the material. The effectiveness of the method was achieved through the simultaneous use of two QÆP, one each for the Mercury and Salt components, respectively, which ensured smaller loss of vis vitalisin comparison with a single-step qdd-ÆP.

Key words: cinnabar, two-step quartz double-sided donor-acceptor æthereal preservation, qdd-ÆP, flow cytoalchemetry, squamous stratified keratinized pseudoepithelium, pseudoblood, pseudotissue sample preservation of Alchemiangues, dragons of alchemy, Serpens hydrargyri cinnabarea, serpent of cinnabar mercury, vis vitalis.

yep, I wrote the article

It's here (Russian language):

[featherlouise]

JUST HAD AN IDEA

What if the attempted assassins broke PK's horns? Since they look like a crown it could be like symbolistic

OKAY ON ONE HAND I LOVE THIS BUT ON THE OTHER HAND I ENJOY DRAWING HIS HORNS TOO MUCH TO DO THAT TO HIM

SOLUTION:

Two of the intruders are holding PK up by his arms, one for each side, and another, presumably the leader, stalks up to him and yanks his head up, which had been hanging low as he's half conscious at this point, by one of his horns

They say something to the effect of "let's rid this coward of his crown," and the room fills with jeers and mocking laughter, before the air grows cold and though their mouths are still open, not a single sound leaves their throats.

That's when Hollow walks in.

Maybe one of his horns (prolly the one that gets grabbed) is broken off and later on PK can make a mould of one of his other horns to fix it, but u can still see the seam of where keratin meets pale ore even years later

[science-lings]

Not really a side effect, it’s more on the esthetic side. I like to think Zelda’s nails would be more on the blue side, also maybe they’re a bit longer and harder than they used to be

Aesthetic side effects are also welcome lol, I think there are a lot of cool features from the light dragon to incorporate, including her nails lol. I feel like all the keratin in her body is effected, like her nails and her hair and there are even select areas of her body that have lightly armored scales that all have the same light dragon white glow. Her hair on her head and her eyelashes glow more gold though.

It’s always fun to see different depictions of Zelda in a form that is part dragon, though I think any version of her that I do will be a little less dragon-y than most lol. I still want to give her a tail and sharp teeth though…

[straycalamities]

I've been meaning to ask, was there actually immunity to the virus in truffula flu or the "immune" were some kind of passive carriers of it? It made me really curious because of Swag's case, and, do you know what happened with Rocky?

there are only asymptomatic carriers of the infection like swag. other special cases are like ted and one who are 100% infected but maintain their personalities and wills way way longer than the typical infected

and anything else ppl can think of tbh go wild. like i remember me and my best friend once discussed a character who was experimented on so that only her arm was technically infected and she had the "spikey" mutation so that it grew a thick keratin over it so she had an arm that could block and attack, and she had some of the increased abilities but the infection didn't spread past that because of the experiments. she had side effects and some of the symptoms but it was not a typical case at all

but nah theres not an actual immunity to it

and you'll have to be more specific :0 what do u mean what happened with rocky?

[lacunasbalustrade]

overlord’s ability burns away even the effect of triggers

reposted from ao3 because many people seem to like this one! read more below the cutoff

overlord's ability burns away even the effect of triggers

Balustrade

Summary:

Hi, I heard that you guys were starving, so I'm here with food - *proffers a basket of cheese*. Anyways, this is a fluffy fic set post-legion, in the liminal space before Kai goes to France, and there is NO trauma whatsoever. Just people cooking suspiciously Chinese food (try the recipe! I promiss it's good) and eating dinner. For @khainovo on Tumblr

Notes:

For khaicantwrite.

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

love is pressed and not new, worn into you by the stares from behind your back and the light reflected from their watch on your hand, threads enveloping you like a faded blanket.

love is preused.

"Take two tablespoons of salt and dump it in with the clams." he instructs, moving around the teak counter to Aichi's side. "Good. Rinse it six-twenty times, using the sieve, and leave it there for half an hour." Kourin, her garnet apron flowing, carries a tray of crushed garlic over to the counter. Paced steps, level, light, cheery. A beacon with her lemony hair creamed by the warm light of the late afternoon. The garlic, white shreds oozing a subtle smell of wispy hellos, will be placed under Misaki's watchful care so Assistant Cat does not take it and dump it over the floor, speckles of lilac and aubergine skin that should be fried together with the clams. They are sitting in Miwa's lap now, the clams, shells overlapping with keratin in complex formations that would look like staircases to an ant that was shrunk down to be smaller than an ant, Aichi fancies as he replaces the salt canister in its pullout drawer, metal scrubbed until the reflection itself shines. Kai is a fastidiously territorial cat, and it means so much unspeakable trust that he has finally let them into his kitchen, albeit under some cautious guidance.

They play a game of Twister whilst waiting out the half an hour - all except Miwa, who still had to hold the clams for fear the real cat will eat them raw. He gets to hold the remote control for Kai's mini television, though, and amuses himself with the soft strains of a Korean drama as he hangs over the back of a chair. He looks for all the world like a white blobby sweater, left there to dry. Muslin waiting patiently to be ironed and laundered. Morikawa wins somehow - Misaki doesn't stand a chance in those tight clothes, Aichi has two left feet, Izaki gets exhausted fast, Emi and Kamui are too short. Kai has some semblance of dignity to maintain and remains a spectator, much to Kourin's pitying disapproval (she is the emcee. Perhaps she missed her work more than she wanted to say.)

"Put the bok choy in to simmer with the clans." Misaki is in charge of this part. She has no sleeves to roll up, dressed in that revealing azure top, but that's the feeling he gets when she enters the kitchen. Unlike Aichi, she has nerves of steel, and doesn't flinch at the roiling bubbles or practically throw the clams in, unleashing a spray of savage 'feedback'. Her fingers are calm, a strong quality in a chef, a good metal to add to an alloy. Kamui dislikes waiting, and being confined to the sofa even more so, but there is no help for it when he will insist in adding in an inane amount of seasoning. The human consumption of salt is not quite so advanced; it is a good thing he does not cook at home, or perhaps that is the reason he does not cook at home. He still yells instructions, however, confusing Izaki, who is in the middle of a Vanguard match with him. "Guard - watch out for that geyser, Emi-san!" Misaki deflects it with the spatula, earning a shower of applause from Emi. They strain the clams and bok choy, add it into a large soup pot.

"Add some more water. Once boiled, slowly add fish paste and continue to stir the pot." This part is lighter work, but Aichi seems to take it as seriously as he does everything else - the only one who could be more serious is perhaps Gaillard, but then the fish paste would turn into fish cream. The way his pale hand trembles with the effort to disperse the stubbornly sticky white paste through the soup, yet avoid coating the leafy dark greens with it? That's something to behold, the pensive jolt of his chin a hint at his inner frustration. (It's a frustration that will dissolve when even Emi praises his work. The wooden spatula splatters everyone with watery paste when he lifts it up and pumps his fist a little.)

The cooking of the chicken thigh meat is taken over by him - this is the most delicate part, and it is only a little factor that they gasp in awe as he tosses it expertly, with dextrous hands born from a curation of experience, with rice soaked in ginger puree, Shaoxing wine (a Chinese wine) and sliced Chinese sausage, handled by Emi earlier. Her chopping board was placed next to their workstation as she went through the mounds of preserved red meat with a deftness Kai approves of silently.

Bird's nest to pair? Or the frosted carrot cake he bought from the bakery? Honey spice cake? A chocolate cream? He wonders about dessert before the thigh meat has even browned and started smelling of the signature readiness, but when he notices, it's a inhalation of deep satisfaction that goes all the way down to the ribs and causes his chest to rise like dough. The warm flames of the stove erase all memories of anything but the fulfillment of a meal together, even after the stove has been switched off. They burn away the effects of all which previously triggered conflict, leaving their rowdy banter without any sting. The hearth of a previous inferno, embers now harnessed to a kinder task and the soothing of cold aches - who needs therapy when there is a hot plate of rice, chicken and clam soup with all the dinner places set and napkins at the ready? Good conversation flows over good food - this is one competition he cannot lose, one that no one can when there is no competitor; only friends, only the filling of a basic and imperatively essential need that joins them all together. Nutrition for those who lived on empty stomachs before they knew one another - or who lived off someone else, some-thing else. To rely on something that cannot betray them is a blessing, and he finds that he is smiling a small, private smirk.

He never used to smile.

Sometimes he needed proof, tactile proof that he loved them, was not coming up with a fantasy, and he remembered his old days, darker than he could shake, when his mouth hurt when he smiled. Those red tears streaked their fingernails gently down his cheeks like knives to a wrist, and he cried himself to sleep every night, when he scratched lines down his hands and into others' hearts, when he didn't want to love anyone around him, when he didn't care if he did the right thing anymore, when he lost his conscience.

When he couldn't close his hand into a fist, because the only thing he wanted to do was scratch and claw at the emptiness that he couldn't leave behind even with the jangling creak of coffee in his capillaries.

He never used to be able to do this.

He smiles at Morikawa's boasting (he was "responsible for the great meal", nevermind that he didn't lift a finger) unconsciously, a pattern of familiarity, and so what if he had practiced it into himself? Kai didn't use to be able to bring himself to do it.

With them, he sincerely believes that the world is kind, that the fire is faithful, that there is such an existence of hope.

They made him believe in love when he had forgotten how it felt. The sun is concurrently exhausted, depleted from the busy day; at night, they demanded nothing of him besides his own self to shine through, even as a reflection, and that made him love them, he is still so grateful that they understand him in a place no one ever could. the rigidity and demanding poise required to walk the line he has been racing - they knew it never stops, and he had desperately needed a reason to hold onto the people in front of him; he wanted to love them, but he needed reminders. He needed a map, needed them to lift him up when he was down, too, some proof that he wasn't not in this alone. That a hand could reach through his flames unhurt. He needed them to reciprocate and believe in him even when he let them down, people who were willing to forfeit their present for him later, someone to stay with him. And whether or not he asked, they were always going to be those people.

They, although so rough, calloused by their own traumas, loved him gently, like burn marks, like fresh wounds, like scars if that makes sense.

Kai doesn't want to hide anything bad or good from the 'them' he trusts his whole being to, he "won't hold anything back from you."

Let me love you, he wills to himself as water floods his moist throat.

Let me love you.

Some people Kai can never get back and he wants to make the most of all he has to give. 

Notes:

I hope u like the food and didn't get grossed out. It's much better than it sounds I promiss glossary - Bok choy, also known as pak choy or pok choi, is a type of Chinese cabbage, that has smooth, wide, flat leaf blades at one end with the other end forming a cluster similar to that of celery. May be eaten cooked or raw. Puree – Pureed ginger (also known as ginger paste) is made by blending or grinding fresh peeled ginger into a fine puree. Some water (or occasionally oil) is used to create a smooth consistency. Shaoxing wine (Shaohsing, Hsiaohsing, Shaoshing), also called "yellow wine", is a traditional Chinese wine made by fermenting glutinous rice, water and wheat-based yeast. Chinese sausage is a broad umbrella category encompassing many types of sausage, both air-cured and smoked, from all parts of China as well as Vietnam and Thailand. It can be made from fresh pork, pork fat, livers, and, sometimes, chicken, and tends to be as sweet as it is savory, with a rich, dense, emulsified texture.

[kashacreates]

Vactyr

Pronounced: VAHKED-eer, rhymes with Hacked Ear.

Vactyr are generally bipedal, horned Flowids and are the current dominant sapient species on Delphtea. They are the last Flowid to retain their cores and channels which grants them the ability to make and use Flow at will. They are a trisexual species, but one is not required in the reproductive process.

Vactyr have glowing eyes, cranial crest, dorsal crests (from neck to tip of tail), facial frills, horns, hooves, and a muscular semi-prehensile tail (Can generally move in any direction, but they can't use it as an extra limb). They have long necks and long tails compared to their body.

Due the consequences of the Hirudian Harvest and related events afterwards, there are two distinct kinds of Vactyr:

Delphtean

Hirudian

Delphtean Vactyrs have no Hirudian involvement or influence in their ancestry. They have large eyes, flat noses, and lithe builds. Horns can point in any direction and may have splits (akin to antlers), ridges, or curls and their skin, pelt, "keratin", Flow, blood, and hair colours vary wildly in hue. Some physical traits will be more common in certain regions based on local fashions, culture, and conditions. For instance, a village high up in the snowy mountains might have thicker manes while another village may have found spotted facial frills an aesthetic.

Cultural attitudes vary based on their city-state, but there are a few common beliefs that cross state lines. The use of Flow is viewed as a grim responsibility: it's a power that is too easily abused and thus must be handled with care. Gilding rituals are a common tradition.

Hirudian Vactyrs have ancestry that was manipulated by Hirudian breeding practices. They tend to have larger horns and muscles, and their horns tend to face forward or curl outwards. Hirudian Vactyrs come in specific size classes to fit certain functions (for instance, runts and smalls are typically house servants while Titans tend to work the higher levels in the military services). It is common for Hirudian Vactyrs to be heavy-set or have larger muscles.

It is also common for younger Vactyr to have their tails docked to reduce the amount of space they take up. However, this has disastrous consequences for their spinal health, so many end up needing spinal augments to function.

Hirudian Vactyrs are typically Liberated at a young age (around 10ish). The process of Liberation is essentially the infection of the Hirudian parasite that is linked to the Elite Liberation through her domain. Infection with the parasite causes hair loss, facial fin atrophy, and a limiting of Flow control and production. It cannot control thoughts or actions, it can only influence and will manipulate feelings to fit its goals. A common side-effect is a minimizing of guilt and an increase of euphoria. The parasite is capable of monitoring the host's thoughts and actions, but its ability to report its findings is limited. Even highly advanced bio-mechanical computers struggle with millions of inputs after all.

However, the largest population of Hirudian Vactyr are Lost. The Lost are the result of a failed Liberation or if one's Liberation exerted too much control of its host. In both of these cases, the parasite is expelled. The Lost lack many of the functions associated with "higher thought" - they lack the ability to speak Common and even their Vactyr body language is incomprehensible to other Vactyrs. However, the Lost are capable of tool-use, understanding simple instructions, and are able to communicate with each other.

(This is why "higher thought" is in quotes, Lost have shown the ability to develop their own culture and have the capacity to know how to seek out help or even escape servitude. The Lost are merely different; not lower.) It is believed that the Lost are the result of traumatic brain damage being repaired and/or replaced with Flow.

There is a sizeable population of Lost on both Hirud and Delphtea.

[cleverhottubmiracle]

Luxury living is all about the details, and your hair is no exception—it’s your crowning glory, a symbol of youth, femininity, and vitality. When your hair is soft, shiny, and vibrant, it sends a clear message to the world that you’re taking exceptional care of yourself. Starting today, you can elevate your hair care routine from ordinary to truly indulgent. With the right products, like this hydrating shampoo and conditioner set by amika:, you can experience the perfect balance of moisture and style, making it easier than ever to look and feel your best. From smooth, shiny hair to the luxury of a spa-like treatment, nothing compares to the power of hydration. And when you choose the right products, like these hydrating essentials, your haircare routine can be elevated in more ways than one. Let’s explore how this dynamic duo is the perfect match for your lifestyle, leaving you with hair that shines—inside and out. Here’s all you need to know about what makes a great hydrating shampoo and conditioner set… The Role of Hydration in Haircare Photo: Beyzanur K./Pexels Hydration is about more than just achieving controlled, refined hair—it’s about giving your tresses the nourishment they need to truly glow. Healthy, hydrated hair reflects the same care and attention you put into yourself. On the flip side, managing hair that’s stripped of moisture can be a struggle. Parched strands are often dry, brittle, and prone to breakage, leaving your hair looking dull and lifeless. The purpose of hydrating shampoos and conditioners is to replenish moisture deep within each strand. Think of these formulas as your go-to helpers, working behind the scenes to combat dryness, brittleness, and lack of control. The result? Hair that’s not only smoother and more manageable but also feels soft and supple from root to tip. A Self-Care Ritual That Elevates Your Day Photo: Kaboompics.com/Pexels Imagine starting your day with a morning cleanse where your hydrating shampoo lathers up like velvet, releasing a subtle, luxurious fragrance. Then, as you apply the deep conditioner, it glides through your hair like satin, effortlessly detangling and leaving your strands irresistibly soft. These simple yet indulgent rituals transform daily or routine haircare into an act of self-love, allowing you to bask in the strength and radiance that makes you feel like the true glam queen you are. Style Meets Care In a world where glossy blowouts and glamorous looks are essential, finding products that balance both hair health and style is key. The amika: hydrating shampoo and conditioner set nourishes and manages all hair types, ensuring your hair becomes the perfect frame for your on-trend ensembles. Whether you’re preparing for a busy morning or a night out at the trendiest spot, nourished hair is easier to style and stays flawless throughout the day or night. Enter your hydrating-friendly styling routine. From sleek and straight to a chic low ponytail, or big, bouncy curls, the right hydrating shampoo and conditioner ensure your hair always looks polished and stunning, no matter the style. What Sets Hydrating Products Apart Not all haircare formulas are created equal. While many shampoos and conditioners promise moisture, true hydrating products go beyond the surface. These formulas often feature nourishing ingredients like argan oil, shea butter, or keratin, which penetrate deep into the hair shaft to hydrate every strand from within. Unlike masks or treatments that merely add shine, hydrating products work their magic beneath the surface, strengthening and smoothing your hair over time. The result? Healthier, more resilient hair. And here’s an added bonus: many hydrating shampoos and conditioners are also free from harsh chemicals like sulfates, making them a gentler, more effective option for long-term care. Tailoring Hair Care to Your Unique Needs Looking and feeling all refreshed Each hair type has its own specific hydration needs. Curly hair, which is generally drier, benefits best from a rich, creamy conditioner that provides deep moisture. Fine hair, on the other hand, doesn’t require as much hydration and will look its best with a lighter, more delicate formula. Even if your hair tends to be oily, you can still use conditioner without fear—just choose a balanced formula that hydrates without causing build-up. The key to healthier, more vibrant hair is customizing your routine to match your unique hair type, ensuring your hair looks its absolute best. The Connection Between Haircare and Confidence Amazing hair truly is a superpower. Whether it’s the way the sunlight catches your silken strands or how effortlessly your hair falls into place, healthy, beautiful hair instantly boosts your confidence. When you invest time in nourishing your hair, it sends a powerful message to the world: you value your well-being and have the strength to take on anything. This sense of self-care radiates outward, influencing all areas of your life and reinforcing the glamorous, confident lifestyle you’ve chosen to embrace. Hydration: The Foundation of Glamorous Hair Your hair is a visible treasure, and keeping it healthy and well-hydrated is key to showcasing its natural beauty. Using a hydrating shampoo and conditioner will not only nourish your strands but also reinforce that your hair is a source of pride. Let this essential duo be one of the steps toward embracing an elegant, self-confident, and self-caring lifestyle. Featured Image: Ridofranz/iStock Sponsored articleFor the latest in fashion, lifestyle and culture, follow us on Instagram @StyleRave_All rights reserved. This material, and other digital content on this website, may not be reproduced, published, broadcasted, cached, rewritten, or redistributed in whole or in part without prior express written permission from STYLE RAVE. Use of and/or registration on any portion of this site constitutes acceptance of our Terms & Conditions and Privacy Policy.  —Read also !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', ' fbq('init', '496558104568102'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script',' !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script',' fbq('init', '1453079628754066'); fbq('track', "PageView"); Source link