#professional trimmer

[clutch-him-tightly]

IDW Sonic the Hedgehog, Issue 48 Page 18

Panel 2 of 2

[certifiedclippers]

Beard Trimmer Basics: Your Ultimate Styling Guide

Facial hair is in style, and there is no denying it.

Men are boldly embracing facial hair of varying lengths. The right look that complements different features and face cuts can be achieved. The right clippers and trimmers are responsible for achieving the right shaped and groomed beard. The precision of the blades of professional beard trimmers and their adjustment capacity allow a barber to sculpt beard hair with ease.

Let’s first understand the basics of beard trimmers and their features:

There are various types of beard trimmers; they are categorised into two parts.

Corded Trimmers: Corded trimmers need to be plugged into a power outlet. A regular power supply ensures that the trimmers work seamlessly. Although the cord may restrict movement, professional barbers prefer to use it as a long beard trimmer.

Cordless beard trimmer: These are some of the best rechargeable beard trimmers and work the best for professionals who often visit client places. An important feature is that they give a lot of freedom to move, and hence are best for small corners and spaces. Professionals need to consider the cordless trimmers’ recharge and battery life.

For professionals and home users, understanding the key features of trimmers is also indispensable.

Blade — The blades of electric blade trimmer, are made from high-quality titanium or stainless-steel materials. Sharp blades in trimmers are known to give the best and smoothest cuts.

Battery life- This is important to consider for cordless trimmers that work on battery. As professionals, considering the battery life of the trimmer will help provide a seamless trimming experience.

Changing settings — All electric trimmers have adjustable lengths, which is a boon for professionals. The length adjustment versatility in trimmers helps achieve the right beard length and hairstyles with precision.

Attachments and Precision — A high-quality blade trimmer can be bought with attachments that will aid in better cuts and precision. Styling and trimming of beards, hair, sideburns, and moustaches need clean cuts and lines. Most professional trimmers can help achieve the desired results clients and professionals look for.

Achieving your style is now easy with this hack in beard trimming:

Using Guides: Top-rated beard trimmers often come with a guide comb. These combs are essential for any professional barbering kit. They work best to adjust lengths and uniform cuts for beards. With the right comb attached, the right, bearded look can be achieved by running the trimmer along the contour of the face.

Maintenance: A cordless beard trimmer is great for personal use. With adjustable combs, men can now trim their overgrown beards or even create new styles instantly. Keeping your facial hair from overgrowing is now possible with the use of cordless trimmers.

Initial Prep: Before trimming or cutting your beard, keep the hair moist by washing and drying your beard. Untangle your beard by regularly combing it and before trimming it.

Certified Clippers has a wide range of high-quality cordless and corded trimmers. The best cordless beard trimmers for your personal and professional use are now easy to choose. With a huge variety of trimmers, every professional, beginner or home user can easily buy one.

[abouthairstyling]

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Say goodbye to split ends with Alan Truman's professional split end hair trimmer. Experience precise trimming for healthier, beautiful hair. Order yours today!

https://alantruman.com/collections/split-end-trimmers

[electronicsworld1]

[beautyandhealth11]

[yiwuhiena]

Professional Barber Hair Clipper High Quality LCD Power Display Electric Cordless Hair Trimmer Advanced All Metal Gold Barber

Blade Material:

Stainless steelApplication:

Car, Outdoor, Hotel, Commercial, HouseholdWashable:

YesPower Source:

usb, Battery, Electric, Vehicle Power SupplyApp-Controlled:

NOMaximum Runtime:

＞90minPlace of Origin:

Zhejiang, ChinaBrand Name:

HienaModel Number:

HI-202Product name:

Hair Trimmer Professional ClipperColor:

PictureUsage:

Human Hair CuttingMaterial:

All-MetalFeature:

SafetyCertification:

CEMOQ:

20pcsAccessories:

Comb+brushDisplay:

LCD Digital DisplayBlade:

Stanless Steel Blade

[freshfunbeard]

Electric Hairball Trimmer Smart LED Digital Display Fabric Lint Remover ...

[mitigatedchaos]

Kontextmaschine is Dead

(~1,000 words, 5m)

Noted blogger @kontextmaschine is presumed dead, following the discovery that the sole resident at his most likely residence was found deceased during a wellness check initiated by concerned Redditors.

Prior to his last post on Aug 22, which indicated a serious health problem, he reported taking over twice the dose of creatine he had been taking at the beginning of his lengthy post-COVID health saga, in which he also reported becoming bisexual, having "zero" anxiety, gaining 3D vision after years of not having it, becoming incredibly convincing, and having to learn to walk and use his muscles properly again. At the time, he felt he was becoming trimmer and physically stronger, and reported engaging in a long project of yard work, although photos from the inside of his house generally looked somewhat messy.

A Tumblr user who met him briefly in person after the beginning of the health saga but before these most recent events reported that he was friendly, charismatic, hospitable, and clean, but "physically, a mess," with motor control issues on one side of his body.

Topics of discussion were similar to the content of kontextmaschine's blog, such as differences in east and west coast government in America, said to be "totally on brand," but it was said that the prolific poster seemed "less self-grandiose" in person.

Redditors theorize that the decline of kontextmaschine's health following his first self-report of COVID-19 infection may have been due to undiagnosed brain cancer, which could be more consistent with observed changes in behavior than the after-effects of a viral infection, given that most reports of "long covid" are about effects like fatigue, and not total loss of anxiety or alteration of sexual orientation.

Despite multiple suggestions, from both anonymous and pseudonymous users, kontextmaschine refused to seek professional medical care for his condition.

Regarding the mourning of public figures, in 2018, a period of increased Progressive sensitivity during the Trump Administration, kontextmaschine wrote,

through the years realized that through whatever blind groping the ‘90s-ass “edgelords” were desperately trying to save us from this, through proper gatekeeping and filtering at first I’d thought it was gratuitous and supported it being relaxed, maybe not shaming everyone who publicly mourned a suicide, mea culpa, mea culpa, I have debts to pay

In 2019, he added:

That was how we kept the internet culture from growing mawkish and cry-bullyish: basically, if you were so weak as to get weepy over corpsemeat you got cancelled, the shame would follow you forever and you’d never be allowed to forget it.

Given his writing, it is likely that kontextmaschine would not have supported excessive public mourning over his death, though in 2017, following the theft of his motorcycle, when the popular blogger @argumate jokingly criticized him by writing, "no references to pinball, no insight into historical Americana, this isn’t the kontext I signed up for," kontextmaschine wrote,

“when bad shit happens people mock me accurately” is the community I’ve been looking for my whole life so

Like argumate, perhaps the most famous of the rationalist-adjacent bloggers on Tumblr, screenshots of kontextmaschine's Tumblr posts would end up on outside websites.

Kontextmaschine was generally considered an interesting, if controversial writer. One Tumblr user characterized him as a member of the "obnoxious Tumblr right," though another user asked, "wait, how is kontextmaschine is right wing?" After another user claimed that the nuclear bombing of Oregon would be a net improvement in the world due to kontextmaschine's residence in Portland, tumblr user @random-thought-depository wrote a 2,400 word theory post arguing that kontextmaschine's philosophy was a means to coordinate to join a future political coalition favoring the formation of a more brutal and oppressive hierarchy in pursuit of his own advantage.

Though kontextmaschine's ideology advocates that humanity should adopt "r-selection," meaning more offspring with less investment in each (or youth, sex, and death), this blog dissented against the coalition theory, arguing that motorcycles, kung fu, women, Hollywood, and not having to report to HR are all traditionally cool, and the causality of the kontextmaschine ideology could easily run the other way.

Though he had a period of identifying as female in his youth, appropriately LGBTQ for a Tumblr user, his 2011 statement of principles, including "the lesser yields to the greater" and "suffering is the mark of a wrong person," and general body of work, could be described as a strain of right-wing thought, though not of the traditionalist Christian or rational technocratic varieties.

Prior to the post-covid health saga, kontextmaschine's health posting was primarily about his bipolar disorder, with both manic and depressive phases.

Kontextmaschine maintained generally friendly relations with other bloggers in his sphere of discourse, sometimes debating but rarely aggressive, except in response to anonymous hatemail. In response to one particular piece of hatemail, kontextmaschine stated that as a writer, of course his primary form of influence would be his posts.

In a post chain reblogged by dozens of Tumblr users, multiple Tumblr users wrote that they enjoyed his writing and are disappointed by his death, describing him as a unique thinker that will not be easily replaced. Several felt that there was not much they could have done, as after returning from his covid infection, he was not taking medical advice.

One Tumblr user wrote, "rip. Inspirational manic poster," while long-time and prolific poster argumate described him as, "one of the bloggers of all time."

Internet users speculate that Kontextmaschine is survived by his outdoor cat, Badger, about whom he posted frequently. He may also be survived by other members of his family, with whom he apparently did not live, and rarely spoke about.

It is recommended that enthusiasts of kontextmaschine's blog make backups of his writing for archival purposes.

[sofasoap]

At the barbers

Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)

Summary: Part of @glitterypirateduck's John Price "O, Captain! Challenge" prompt used : 92: Giving Price a haircut and/or shave

Warning: T-M rating.

A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military. Thank you @mini-metal for giving me few suggestions and few ideas! *hugs*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series

Master list

“Love.”

“Hmmm?” 

“Would you mind giving me a hand here please?” John struggled as he tried to lift his injured arm to trim his beard. 

You sighed. “I am only good with surgical knives and scissors.” You took the trimmer off his hand and gently pushed his arm down. “Why not go to a barber?” 

“.... I am not quite comfortable with someone holding a blade to my neck.” 

“And you are comfortable with ME doing it?” you cocked an eyebrow. 

He hummed. “That’s because you are my wife. I trust you with all my life.” he pressed a kiss into your forehead. Wrapping his good arm around you as you sink into his embrace. 

“Well I am flattered by the great Captain Price trusting me with a knife to his throat.” you giggled, “But I really wouldn’t trust myself to trim my own dead ends off, let alone take a risk of destroying your luscious mutton chop.” You could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he mumbled something incoherent.

“How about one of the boys helping you?”

“I don’t trust them either.” he rumbled. “I trust them with my life.. But I wouldn’t trust them NOT destroying my beard. I already heard them plotting to shave my beard off in my sleep a few times.” 

You couldn't help but laugh. “ Well… We gotta think of something. Can’t let you leave your hair and beard go until your arms heal….” 

The strong leathery, lavender and cedarwood, faint hint of cigar smell hits you as soon as the two of you walk into the shop. The old radio playing some jazz music in the background, the old barber sitting on the wooden stool, reading the newspaper. It brings you distant memories. One of those rare happier moments when you were younger…. 

John finally agreed after a bit of coaxing from you to get his hair and beard done by the professional instead of you trying your luck. 

“I will go with you, how about that? And maybe I can learn a few tricks and tips from the professional?” you suggested. 

The barber waved to your husband to sit down on the chair after you explained to him what needs to be done. He was more than happy to teach you how to help John to maintain his pride and joy. 

Price couldn’t hold back his smile as he saw how focused and concentrated you are, pouting and wrinkling your nose as you listened to the barber explaining each step and how to use the tools. It helps to distract him from some strangers working so closely to him with sharp apparatus. The barber even handed over the scissors a few times for you to try out. 

“Stop moving, you are laughing too much.” you mumbled as you tried to trim the extra long strains around the edge of his jaw. “I don’t think you want me to accidentally take a chunk out of your beard, and have the boys laugh at you at work.” “I could always shave all my beard off.” “Oh so you changed your mind? You're definitely going to give them a heart attack and give me a heart break if you do that. So…  Never.” you laughed as you handed the scissors back to the barber. 

“You get to see Lieutenant John Price?” 

“As much as you were a handsome young man back then,I would rather keep that memory in the photos.” You pointed out as you sat back down, letting the professional get back to work. 

You observe your husband’s side profile with a faint smile on your face as the barber finishes off the rest of the trimming and hair cut. Even after years of marriage, you still have a hard time believing, this handsome man is your husband. 

The moment you set your eyes on him, you didn’t think you had much of a chance. The ranks, the personality, the background…. Everything. 

But he chose you. 

“I choose you? I should be thankful you chose me, my love.” he whispered into your ear one night after you confessed your insecurity. Nuzzling his face into your neck. “For bearing my temper…my imperfections.” 

“What do you think?” he looked at your eyes through the mirror as the barber dust the rest of the beard and hair off his shoulder, seeking for approval. 

Moving yourself to stand in front of him, you gently lay your hand on his face, tilting it to the left, and to the right, and finally, giving him a kiss on the lip, enjoying the smell of the aftershave.

“Handsome. And the best mutton chop I have ever seen.”

“You sound like you have seen quite a few in your life.” he chuckled as thank and paid the barber for his service.

“Maybe, maybe not.” you teased him as you wrap your arm around him. “But it’s definitely the mutton chop that always gives me a good time.” you could see his cheek redden under the beard. “Now, it’s not so scary is it? Having someone else to trim your beard for you.” 

“If you come with me again next time.” he squeezed your hand fondly.

“Gladly.”

“Oh what, you mean we missed out a chance of trying to shave his beard off?” “And You will get your mohawk shaved off too if you do that, MacTavish.” 

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for hosting another wonderful event!!!! *hug*

Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@homicidal-slvt @mini-metal

@okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar @roosterr

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @tapioca-marzipan @alypink, @liyanahelena, @phoenixhalliwell

[certifiedclippers]

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[abouthairstyling]

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[shiyorin]

I was quite surprised when someone sent me a warhammer request on marshmallow, but here we go.

#Modern au. You are a designer who oftens works from home.

#Just a normal morning with primarchs

#Menu: Imperial Secundus

#I promise it only has romcom

Lion El’Jonson

Lion's eyes fluttered open. The alarm blared, jarring him from a dreamless sleep. He groggily fumbled along the nightstand, groping in vain until his palm struck the clock itself, knocking it to the floor. Finally, blessed silence.

He rolled over with a grunt, hugging the blanket tighter and started to drift back under. But a relentless pounding on his door shattered the tranquil haze.

"Lion!! Wake up!! You told me to wake you up early today!" came your insistent voice from the door.

Ugh, did he say that? Of course, he must have, you never would have disturbed his rest otherwise. Lion pulled the covers over his head, letting out a petulant growl. He'd finally gotten some leave time, intended to sleep it away after months of grueling deployments. But apparently obligation called once more.

There was an important PR ceremony today, some ribbons and handshakes to help soothe the civvie politicians. A necessary, but not how he wished to spend his brief repose. For a treacherous moment, the stubborn soldier considered ignoring your wake-up call.

But no. You would only escalate your reminders, and he cringed at the thought of what inventive method you might employ next time. Best to acquiesce... for now.

Lion threw off the sheets with a resigned sigh and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded into the bathroom, glaring at the haggard reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown considerably during his absence, an unruly rug framing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks.

He grabbed his trimmer and set to taming the wilderness, meticulously shaping it back into a crisp military cut. Freshly groomed, he tugs on the crisp dress uniform laid out the prior evening. Drab olive tones that do nothing for tired but befit the solemn occasion.

One last lingering look in the mirror confirms his stone-faced professionalism. No one would ever suspect the churning sea of doubts and regrets that dwell behind those cold eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he steps out into the living room. Immediately he's greeted by an unexpectedly enticing sight, you lounging on the sofa in minimal loungewear.

You were sprawled on one end of the sofa, some oversize tee and cotton shorts clinging to your languid form. A tablet danced in your delicate fingers, your face a mask of fierce concentration for whatever design you worked on. Lion couldn't help his treacherous eyes from tracing your curves, taking in expanse of naked legs on a sumptuous display.

On impulse, he crept closer behind your perch, locking onto that elegant neck arching so invitingly. He bent low, baring his teeth ever so slightly as a humid breath rolled across your flesh...

"What are you doing?!" 

You flinched bodily, whipping around with wide eyes. Lion recoiled slightly, caught like a schoolboy playing mischief. But your shocked expression melted into an exasperated look as he feigned innocence with lofty indifference.

"Nothing."

Lion cleared his throat.

"You know, you could go outside once in a while. A little sun might be beneficial."

You shot him an icy scowl over the edge of your screen before shrugging elaborately. "I get plenty of Vitamin D, thank you."

He snorted inwardly at the subtle double entendre. Of course you did. Drawing near with an exaggerated sigh, Lion jerked his chin down in clear expectation. You dutifully rose without comment and began smartly knotting his tie, making a few last tidy adjustments before stepping back to appraise your work.

Your bright eyes raked over his crisply-attired form, sparkling with unreadable thoughts before giving a slight nod of approval. "Very handsome. I'm sure they will like it."

"If only..." Lion muttered "I'll be counting the hours until I get cut loose from these."

His gaze subconsciously drifted to the framed awards and photos lining the shelves, stark reminders of his true calling, a life of struggle and valor amidst the echoing guns. And here, he felt like a caged beast, bored, aimless and shackled.

"Speaking of eating..." He turned back to you "What say we go out for a nice steak dinner tonight? I should be done with this whole circus by mid afternoon."

You cocked one shapely eyebrow, unmistakably intrigued. "A prime rib does sound tempting... and you're paying of course?"

"Better than tofu and kale, right?" Lion's eyes crinkled at the corners, indulging his rare playful side. "We could even get a nice bottle of Cabernet to go with it." 

You said with a smirk "Wait... Is this a date, sir?"

A delicate flush colored his cheeks for just a moment as he turned away dismissively. "Well, I'd say it's just dinner."

You chuckled "Alright sir, it's time to go.."

He shot you an incredulous look as you give him a wink.

"As if you're one to lecture anyone on getting out more..." He muttered under his breath once the door clicked shut.

But a smile played across his lips as he grabbed his keys and cover, already counting down the hours himself.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius slowly peels open his eyes as the first rays of dawn filter through the bedroom window.

Despite being a morning person in theory, his body protests at the early hour, muscles tight and eyelids heavy from a restless sleep. He drags himself out of the tangled sheets, padding wearily to the bathroom.

The hot shower does little to shake the lingering weariness. It clings to him like cobwebs as he towels off and slips into a plush silk robe, a small indulgence. He catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy mirror, pausing for a beat. His chiseled features and athletic physique betray no hint of the pain that gnaws at his insides lately.

Pushing those nagging thoughts aside for now, Sanguinius drifts out to the kitchen. He uncorks a deep Cabernet Sauvignon decanter to pour himself a generous glassful. Not exactly the most typical breakfast beverage, but he's long past caring about societal conventions.

When he turns to join you at the dinette table, he's greeted by the sight of his disheveled roommate cradle-hugging a steaming coffee mug. You're barely awake yourself, straggles of hair framing your bleary eyes. Despite your almost comical morning disarray, you're still the most gorgeous thing Sanguinius has ever seen.

Instinctively he opens his arms for an embrace, a silent good morning routine. You merely stare at him through slitted lids before downing the last of your coffee. Then, with neither word nor warning, you thrust the empty cup into his hands and turn to go.

Sanguinius is left bemused for only a heartbeat before chuckling softly. He rinses the mug out, refilling it with the last of the coffee and offering the fresh cup which you accept with a grateful nod. You vanish into the living room, curled up on the sofa mere moments later. Your bright LED monitor casts a blue glow across those striking, angular features, already immersed in rendering textures for another character model no doubt.

Padding over, Sanguinius gingerly retrieves his portfolio from beside the armchair. He sinks back into the plush cushions, leafing through page after page of Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces. Yet he can't seem to focus on the brushwork or chiaroscuro artistry today.

He finds his gaze drifting from the pages time and again, stealing glances at the beauty, studying the delicate shape of your lips, the color of your eyes, the effortless fluidity with which your graceful fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Don't stare at your phone and eat at the same time," He chides warmly as you start scrolling through work emails with one hand. "You'll choke."

"Fair point, from the man sipping wine at 7 AM."

You arches one shapely eyebrow but doesn't deign to reply further. Sanguinius drains his own goblet and rises to clean up. He takes his time, puttering about the loft tidying this and straightening that, all while keeping you in his sights through stolen glimpses.

Once finished with his little chores, he finds himself drifting over to your place without even thinking about it. You don't seem to notice or mind as he leans over the back of the sofa, studying your latest creation in-progress.

"Impressive," Sanguinius murmurs, genuinely awestruck by the master-level craftsmanship. "Truly remarkable."

You pause for a beat, gracing him with the faintest of smiles before turning back to the grindstone, lost in your creative zone once again. He remains looming over you for a long moment, close enough to catch the faint scent of your hair's jasmine essence and feel the soft warmth of your body heat.

Then, finally, Sanguinius straightens up with a heavy, wistful sigh. He pads across to collect his folio and jacket from the armchair.

"Well then, I should get going. I've got a gallery walk-through this afternoon for the new exhibition."

On impulse he leans down, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight embrace from behind. You stiffens for the briefest heartbeat before your body seems to melt and settle into him. He nuzzles his nose into your fragrant tresses for one fleeting, delicious breath.

"I'll see you this evening."

*****

Sanguinius sighs heavily, doing his best to focus on the massive abstract canvases arrayed before him. But despite the confrontational slashes of color and impassioned brush strokes, his mind keeps wandering.

Wandering to thoughts of your legs and hair as wild and as unkempt as the paintings themselves. To the smirking cupid's bow of full lips perpetually pursed in sardonic amusement at his romanticized notions.

A shiver runs down Sanguinius' spine as he recalls their very first encounter in vivid detail...

Perhaps today he might finally dare to put brush to canvas, crafting the masterpiece that's been swirling in his mind for months now. 

It may very well be the only art that truly matters in this life.

Roboute Guilliman

The pre-dawn stillness hung heavy over the apartment as Roboute Guilliman stirred awake. His body clock was precisely punctual, never requiring an alarm. But it had become a morning ritual nonetheless.

Rolling over, he lay motionless in the darkness, his soft breathing was the only sound. Exactly four minutes before the jarring beep of the alarm was due, Guilliman's hand shot out and silenced it. 

With a quiet sigh, the politician slipped from the bedsheets, feet touching down soundlessly on the carpet. As the sheets were tucked with crisp military corners, he pulled the curtain across the bedroom before retreating.

Down the hallway, he rapped his knuckles firmly on your bedroom door in passing. Just a simple courtesy to avoid catching you if you happened to be awake and roaming.

A low grumbling seeped out from behind the door. Apparently his roommate was still very much entombed in slumber at this hour.  

He shook his head with a sigh as he made for the apartment's main living area. You could easily sleep till noon if permitted. But you needed to get on a decent schedule, your deadline for that game company's new character model was rapidly approaching.

Guilliman shrugged into his robe and settled into his daily routine. First a pot of strong coffee set to brew while he goes out to the lobby for the morning paper. The brisk chill of the morning air roused his senses fully. 

As the newscasters on the television in the living room prattled about yesterday's legislative victories and this morning's planned protests, Guilliman flipped through the paper's headlines. A frown creased his brow as his eyes scanned snippets:

*...divisive new social policies expected to be blocked yet again as party ties remain locked in stalemate...*

*...public trust in elected officials is at all time low amidst deluge of corruption scandals...*

He shook his head with a weary sigh. The political realities of governance had proven far more vexing than any military campaign ever faced back in his service days. Compromise and incremental change seemed the agonizing order of the day, no matter how dire the situation.

The timer's shrill beep indicated the coffee was ready. Muscle memory took over as Guilliman retrieved the carafe, split the hot brew into two mugs, then poured in the respective milk and sugars to each's preferred taste.

Almost on cue, a sleep-tousled you shuffled into the dining room with a jaw-cracking yawn. Your silk robe hung open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the matching negligee beneath. 

"Mmmmmorning..." you mumbled groggily, bare feet padding across the linoleum.

Guilliman turned at the exact moment you wrapped your lithe arms around his midsection from behind with a contented sigh. Your cheek nuzzled against the flat planes of his back as he stiffened self-consciously.

"What's for breakfast, hmm?" Your voice was blissfully sleepy, still thick with half-dreams and warmth.

Clearing his throat, Guilliman gestured to the set table with a prim nod. "Belgian waffles and seasonal fresh fruit compote, as requested. With the coffee you prefer."

Your answering hum of delight vibrated through his robe pleasantly. "Love you."

Guilliman felt his face grow warm as you giggled, returning to slather the unappetizing bread-slab with sugary condiments. Best to ignore such needling - especially when you have a point. He couldn't help but spoil you.

… Besides, how many other politicians were roomies with a character model designer? He couldn't be too harsh.

Before he could react further, you released your lingering embrace and flopped bonelessly into your seat. Guilliman blinked, momentarily flushed, before joining you at their customary places across the small table.

They ate in a relaxed quiet broken only by the newscasters' prattling drone. Guilliman couldn't help noticing the elegant,delicate way your lips pursed around each forkful...

A loud slam from their neighbor's door shattered the reverie, making them both jump slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head. "Honestly, can people not control themselves for five minutes..."

You reached over to give his clenched fist a reassuring squeeze. "Any luck with the proposed housing reforms? I saw it was on the docket again this week..."

Swallowing hard, he mustered a tight smile. "Well, progress remains...incremental." His eyes flicked to the  mobs of irate citizens wielding placards and crude banners on television screens. "The special interests dig their heels in deeper every time."

"Just give it time." Your tone was soothing even through your usual wry inflection. You sipped your coffee thoughtfully, ruby lips leaving a perfect imprint on the porcelain mug. "They're going to feel awfully silly someday for not listening to you."

"I certainly hope--"

Guilliman glanced down at the time on his portable cogitator, eyes widening. "Blast! I'd best get moving if I'm on time for the morning session."

He rose swiftly, tucking in his chair and gathering the dishes in one practiced movement as you watched with bemused detachment. Within moments he was already depositing the load in the sonic dishwasher, suit cuffs neatly buttoned. 

At the door, he hesitated with one hand on the knob. Glancing back, Guilliman called over his shoulder, "I may be late this evening. There are deliberations scheduled on--"

"I know, I know." You waved him off with a little smile, one foot tucked under your thigh as you sipped your coffee. "More stuffy old men yelling and accomplishing nothing, as usual."

Lips pursing tightly, Guilliman simply grunted before slipping out into the corridor. Your teasing was affectionate but still stung just a bit.

Carefully straightening the crisp lapels of his suit, Guilliman cleared his throat. "Do try and not bury yourself in laptop too deeply today, yes? Your health is as important as any project deadline."

You waved an airy hand, taking an uncouth slurp of your coffee. "Yeah yeah, mom, I know the drill. Now get going before you're late for all your super important senatorial meetings."

Pausing at the door for one final longing look at that adorably disheveled figure, Guilliman repressed a smile. He truly was a lucky man, even if his roommate could be his pain at times.

As the oaken portal swung closed and his strides carried him off to another long, grueling day of civic responsibilities, the statesman couldn't help but look forward to returning home this evening.

[cookie-crumblr]

GN!READER x 3 YANDERE OC’s

thinking about how Enix, Lucy and Issac would be the first three of my OC’s to cut our legs off if we disobeyed them or tried to run away an i MMMMMMMMMM

CW: GN! Reader, no body descriptions for reader, dismemberment of reader, reader referred to as they/them, murder, drugging, vomit(non descriptive dw), spoilers for lucky, permanent body mutilation, non con, p in whatever hole you have, somno(in Enix’s part), reader has hair in lucy’s part mentioned (not described) Not proof read!

!!MINORS DNI!!

Enix~

When you first awoke in shackles, you couldn’t imagine staying! this guy that you had once thought was just a shy nerd, turning out to be a psychopath to this extent!? You can’t!

You think of a plan to escape as soon as you can.

He let you loose after a while. you promised you’d be good, schmoozed up to him too, pretending nothing had changed. And he believed you.

You ran the first chance you got. A neighbor saw you running in your underwear and hurried you inside. You asked to call the police, she rushed to find her phone.

But too soon after, Enix busts through her front door.

He has a pair of hedge trimmers in his hand… You tried to run but you were frozen solid watching him beat the old woman to death with them. You tried to tear yourself away from the gorey scene unfolding, you tried to run, but he caught you.

“Butterflyyyy~ Looks like Ill have to rip off your wings after all…” He holds you tightly in his grasp, his tall body fully encasing you. “I really didn’t want to”

He injects you with something as he’s holding you, and you feel your body grow suddenly so heavy and your vision fades.

Now he’s looking over your precious, sleeping form, you are even easier to watch and protect! and he can’t help but love how dependent you’ll be on him from now on.

His dick throbs.

You’re so perfect, even just sleeping under anesthesia. He lifts your stumps and gently feels his work… He shouldn’t. He stops himself. Not yet anyway, he wouldn’t want to injure you while you’re in a serious recovery phase.

But soon, he’ll definitely put you back under to fully enjoy what he’s done.

Upon waking you feel terrified… Something is so very wrong! you can’t move your legs! You shoot up into a sitting position, and see the reason…

You vomit over the edge of the bed.

Your legs are gone.

(He definitely mounts them on the wall in the bedroom with a little plaque and everything like they’re one of his prized specimens)

Lucy~

You’ve disobeyed her too many times recently, you’ve ran and hid yourself inside the forbidden red doored room.

You didn’t anticipate how obsessed with you she turned out to be.

The room is completely filled in every corner with something that has to do with you. Pictures and posters of you cover the walls, they look professionally taken. The shelves are filled with photo albums, journals detailing your days and old documents. Some have your thrown out med bottles, vials of what you can only assume is cum in some and blood in the others…. You shiver. You don’t want to keep looking, but it’s all around you.

There’s what looks like some kind of Alter at the front and center of the room.

You find it hard to breathe in here…

You think you might get sick if you stay too long.

There are two windows that don’t have screens on either side of the alter. You dash to one of them and try it, luckily, it slides right open.

“Where are they!?” She screeches. You hear her heels clicking against the wood down the hall. “Find them.”

You escape down a trellis covered in blue morning glories, and run into the gardens.

All too soon you’re being tackled to the grass, as one of Lucy’s guards finds you.

Lucy walks out next, taking her time to get to you, building up even more of your tremendous anxiety. Your heart is thumping in your throat, you can see each beat pulsing in your vision. You’ve never seen her so mad!

The guard holds you down obediently.

She’s got an axe.

“You don’t need both of your legs, right Y/N?” She stands over you.

“Wh-what??”

“Hold them still.” She says to the guard.

“Lu-Lucy!?”

She brings down the axe onto your thigh, a harsh, heavy pain bursts through you and you scream out. Your bone definitely snapped but she wasn’t strong enough to take off your leg in one clean hit….

She brings it down a second time, missing the same spot and just causing you more blinding pain, you scream until you’re coughing and almost vomiting.

“LUCY!!! STOP!!!!” You beg and plead but she looks wildly ecstatic as she brutally mutilates your body.

Again the axe comes down finally separating your leg from your body. the pain is immense and your blood soaks the garden bed. You’re so dizzy and you feel sick, you’re writhing and sobbing just glad the worst is over.

“Call the doctor. And a taxidermist.” She licks your blood off of the axe before she throws it and picks up her dress instead, and steps over you. Her body falls over yours, cradling your face in her arms as she now sits on your midsection. You’re fading in and out of consciousness and weakly try to do anything, but the pain is overwhelming.

“Aw… You’re so cute Y/N, I can’t stay mad at you~!” She pets you and wipes some sweat slicked hair off of your forehead.

Her soft lips come down to yours, you barely register the sensation. As you’re fading you feel her rocking her hips on you.

(She def keeps them in her worship room)

Issac~

“This is necessary, Y/N!”

“NO ISSAC PLEASE!!!!!” You threaten to rip your vocal cords with how loud you’re screaming!

He brings the hacksaw to your thigh, right under your cheek. You feel the rough metal touch you and flail wildly.

You’re on your stomach so you thankfully don’t have to watch…

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!” You repeat over and over, snot and tears staining your face.

“I hate to do this to you i swear! But you’ve made me! we told you not to run!!”

“I WONT I WONT I SWEAR I WONT!!!”

“We already gave you that chance.” He states coldly.

The metal touches your flesh once more, but this time he slides it across with pressure enough to cut right down to your bone. You feel the vibrations against the solid part of your body and shiver. The pain is intense and you don’t recognize the voice coming out of you anymore.

You writhe and curl into yourself against the concrete while he pushes the saw back over you, and then again.

The pain doesn’t stop when he stops cutting.

It’s the most intense thing you’ve ever felt.

You’re biting your lip and groaning and wailing when he puts it in you.

“What!!” You cant wrap your head around what’s happening! He’s entering you, while your bleeding out from your thigh!

He spreads your legs wider, you hear him sloshing around in the puddle of your blood.

He fully shoves himself inside you without regard, he can’t help himself every time that you’re completely at his mercy.

You’re all out of wailing at this point, you’re throat is too dry and torn. Your vision is filling with black spots and you feel terrified. All you feel is the throbbing numbness of where your leg used to be, and his huge dick slowly stroking your insides.

You feel the familiar sweat inducing sensation of a saw blade against your other thigh now, You can’t even scream anymore or beg him to stop, you just feel your skin start to be torn open all over again and pass out.

He cums inside you and it spills out around his length mixing into your blood puddle.

[pawsitivevibe]

As a ~Professional Dog Nail Trimmer~ I gotta say Aussie Dog nail clippers are the BEST and I'm kinda mad my coworker has introduced me to them because they are so goddamn hard to find anywhere? Their website is useless? And I honestly really hard to find because typing in 'Aussie Dog' got me a million results about Australian Shepherds lol. But I must obtain some for personal use. They are so much better than any other clipper.

They are sharper than most other nail clippers so they cut through the nail faster and smoother and dogs don't hate them as much because they don't squeeze or make noise. A game changer.

[lunar-years]

For the first sentence of a fic thing:

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious.

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious. "And neither of you have seen it?" he repeats slowly, staring at each of them in turn with his most intense, patented glare, waiting for one of them to break.

Jamie's face remains completely stoic--impressive, actually. Usually he's first to crack. Keeley shrugs innocently and murmurs, "Guess you must've misplaced it again, babe...."

Roy snorts. Yeah. He'd believed that the first time, when he'd found it buried on Jamie's shelf buried amongst his many, many hair products. Roy must've confused the shelves one night. His eyesight is shit in the dark, after all. Then when he next went to use it, the thing was fucking broken, so okay. Shit happened. Order another, no big deal.

This time, though, the trimmer was brand-fucking-new. And he knows exactly where he placed it once he'd removed it from the packaging. "You know that this is important, right?" he growls. "I've got be at the club in like two hours. Looking professional."

He glances past their heads to catch a sight of himself in the mirror. He meant to get a real haircut, but after a few rounds of putting it off, it's gotten long enough now for the curls to really be coming back, in desperate need of a trim, and his beard looks utterly unruly to match. Altogether, he looks like he's an aspiring caveman instead of the fresh new manager of a Premier League team.

"Your beautiful curls aren't unprofessional," Keeley says crisply, arms crossed and looking all put out like he's offended her talking about his own damn hair. Jesus Christ. "Actually, Jamie found--"

Jamie is instantly at his side, holding out a bottle of curl shampoo. "Bit of this to reduce the frizz, lad, and some beard oil to tame you up a bit in the front...very professional, that. And if it happens to make you look dead sexy, too, well--" He shrugs and exchanges a look with Keeley, who nods encouragingly like he's really selling it. They're both ridiculous.

Roy rolls his eyes. "So you mean to tell me I haven't been able to shave in days because my trimmer keeps disappearing mysteriously, and Jamie just so happened to go shopping for fucking..." he takes the bottle Jamie's holding, "curl-defining shampoo in that same timeframe? By total coincidence?"

"Exactly!" Keeley says cheerfully.

"You know, two hours gives us plenty of time to try it out," Jamie adds nonchalantly, waving the shampoo. His eyes are fucking sparkling. He's gorgeous. He's always so fucking gorgeous. "Probably best if Keeley and I help you out. Gotta really massage it in to get the full effect. It will take all three of us. We should shower together!"

Keeley's heads bobs up and down enthusiastically.

"And my trimmer is--?"

"Oh hush," Keeley says, edging closer, "You can search for that later."

"...or not!" Jamie adds.

Yeah, he thinks, letting Keeley's deft hands work at tugging his shirt over his head. Or fucking not.