#Again: feel free to inquire about specifics

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, jealous / protective / possessive Simon, rough kissing, arguments, angst, TF141 shenanigans

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Part Ten of Ink & Needle

Soap, Gaz, and Price come for a visit. At a local pub, Simon notices you are sitting with a stranger. An argument ensues. Things get heated.

Chapter Nine // Chapter Eleven

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Simon leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, sighing heavily. The rolling chair groans a protest. The thing is so old it’s a miracle that it hasn’t collapsed under Simon’s weight. He’s been meaning to replace it—it’s not like he doesn’t have the money—but there are so many other things going on in Simon’s life that he keeps putting it off.

His work laptop is open on the desk in front of him, the bright glow of the screen showing him the thousands of emails sitting in his inbox. Being on the cover of UK Ink is a tremendous honor, but it’s also becoming its own sort of creeping horror. Figuring out which inquiries are genuine, and which are just people seeking attention, is taking a tremendous toll on his personal time.

Every day, more and more emails clog his inbox. It’s likely that as he starts deleting them, more will suddenly appear, popping forth from the hidden depths of whatever server it’s connected to. Plenty of the emails are straight spam with a few consisting of people sending unsolicited nudes. Those go straight into the trash folder. The only naked body Simon wants to see is yours.

Many of the emails are people seeking to book appointments with him for tattoos and piercings. While a good chunk of the emails come from citizens of England, plenty more are from people all over the world. International inquires are a good thing, but those appointments have to be booked around flights and trips. There is also no guarantee that those people will actually show, which is why Simon has started to double-book in some places, or set forth a non-refundable fee for securing a time and date.

He's only one person, and the pressure of that is starting to creep up on him. Simon is going to have to hire more people. At least one additional person at minimum. Even if all they do is answer emails all day and book appointments, Simon will take it. Sitting on this fucking chair in between clients is exhausting.

Through all of that, there are also publications (both large and small) seeking their own interviews with the masked tattoo artist knows as ‘Ghost.’ Some are local to the region while others are international, reaching an even wider audience. For each inquiry, Simon is grateful. To see his work—his art—be appreciated to such a large degree is a great point of accomplishment for him.

It's not like Simon’s work during his time with the military. That is different. That was work. That was blood and metal and dirt. Tattooing doesn’t feel like work to Simon. It is freeing. It is creative. It is the release of a muscle after a long tension.

Tattooing is a distinctive sort of freedom. A place for Simon to lose himself in, to enjoy life again, to find comfort in a craft that doesn’t involve destruction.

But Simon is also distracted. Not because he’s stressed or anxious or concerned or even from the number of emails piling in. Simon is distracted because you were in his arms last night. You were sitting at his kitchen table. You ate the food he made. He distinctly remembers your soft smile as you gazed at his sketches.

Sure, Simon was making dinner, but he was keeping an eye on you the whole time. He noticed every expression on your face as your gaze admired each sketch. He noticed the way you held every piece of paper with tenderness, as if all of them were sacred and special to you. It was after, when the two of you talked, that Simon sensed hesitation.

He questioned you about Cambridge and Evie. You were not entirely honest, not that Simon believes that you lied, but he knows there is more you haven’t told him. Whether you don’t want to tell him or are hesitant to do so is still uncertain. What Simon wants, more than anything, is for you to feel safe enough with him to tell him everything. Simon desires your sharp edges. He wants to know how he can help smooth them, to ease all the worries in your head, to remove some of those burdens.

Which is why he asked you to come to bed with him. He thought that maybe if he kissed you for a bit, you might soften, and that is all he wanted. But then he had you under him, opening for him, and Simon’s control was close to shattering like thin glass under pressure. Your fingers found him, and Simon would have given anything to stay in that bed and make you understand just how much he desires you.

The glowing screen of the laptop and the sight of you sighing in pleasure beneath him keeps colliding with each other. It keeps melding, melting together only to break apart before meeting again.

The current email opened on the laptop screen is gibberish. No matter how many times Simon attempts to read it, your face appears there instead. Then, Simon’s mind drifts off to dream of your seeking fingers, and how perfectly they wrapped around him.

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He needs to fucking focus. He will see you again, and when he does, he is going to fucking enjoy it. The two of you are taking that date. The two of you are going to get away for a while. When that happens, Simon will make you his in all ways.

Exhaling loudly, Simon drops his hand from his face to rub at the back of his neck. He rolls it slightly, popping some of the tension out of the joints. He leans forward a bit and manages to focus on the email.

Spam. Fucking spam.

Simon hits the little rubbish icon and watches the email blink out of existence. His gaze returns to the little blue number next to ‘Inbox’ and immediately shudders.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, wanting nothing more than to shut the laptop and pretend they don’t exist for a while.

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon spies the front door of the shop opening. He turns his head to the left to see if it’s his final customer. Instead, he’s greeted by an annoyingly overenthusiastic Scotsman.

“Lt!”

“Gotta stop calling me that, Johnny,” sighs Simon loudly, as if getting out of his chair is a major hassle. Simon comes to his full height, hands on his hips as John MacTavish bursts through the door.

On his heels are Captain John Price and Kyle Garrick.

“Simon,” nods Price in greeting.

Kyle gives Simon a little playful salute before immediately heading for Bravo. The German Shepard goes up on his back legs. Kyle seizes the dog’s front paws in his hands, the two of them doing a little dance in the middle of the shop.

The moment Simon steps away from the chair, MacTavish is on him, throwing his massive arms around Simon’s middle in a hug.

“You’re bloody crushing me, Johnny.”

MacTavish squeezes him a bit tighter in response. When he let’s go, he grabs hold of Simon’s shoulders, shaking them slightly. “Fucking look at this place.” MacTavish glances around like he’s never seen it before.

“You’ve been here,” deadpans Simon. “Hasn’t changed.”

“But it has, Lt. You’re on the cover of a magazine.” MacTavish smirks and drops his hands from Simon’s shoulders. He then promptly punches Simon lightly in his upper arm. “We’re in the presence of a celebrity.”

“Hardly,” mutters Simon, but he’s smiling behind the balaclava.

Price presents his hand, and he and Simon grasp forearms. “Good to see you, Simon. Been a while.”

“It has,” replies Simon.

Johnny leans toward Simon and cups the side of his mouth like he’s an old hen about to drop a piece of juicy gossip. When he speaks, it’s just a projected whisper that everyone can hear clearly. “Captain bought up a bunch of magazines and handed them out to everyone on base.”

“Soap,” barks Price.

MacTavish holds up his hands, and then points at Price with one finger, jabbing it in the captain’s direction. “Just proud of you,” whispers MacTavish.

Simon simply nods but he’s grinning like an idiot behind the balaclava. Price glances in Simon’s direction and shrugs apathetically, not denying or confirming.

Glancing over Price’s shoulder, Simon frowns slightly. Bravo has his front paws on Kyle’s shoulders as he aggressively scratches the dog’s sides. Bravo’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth, hanging down toward the floor as the dog pants happily.

“Get down, Bravo,” sighs Simon, indicating with a quick nod of his head.

Bravo sucks his tongue back into his mouth, ears drooping slightly with disappointment. Kyle pats Bravo’s side and removes the dog’s massive paws from his shoulders, gently guiding the German Shepard back down to all fours.

On the phone, Johnny said they’d stop by on Saturday. It’s Saturday. Fairly late on a Saturday, with a final customer still expected to walk through the door, but they are here, just as promised.

Kyle strides up and clasps Simon’s shoulder. “Place looks good.”

“Hasn’t changed,” remarks Simon for a second time.

“Saw you on the cover of UK Ink,” continues Kyle. “Didn’t know until this guy started handing them out on base.” He tips his head in Price’s direction.

Price sighs heavily but says nothing.

“Big deal,” finishes Kyle.

“Congrats, Lt.” MacTavish grins and Simon cannot help but feed into their praise.

It is a big deal. This one interview, this one award, is pushing him beyond the scope of his vision. In forced retirement, Simon expected to fly under the radar, to enjoy himself while he created art. He never expected his work to be recognized internationally.

“Sign my copy yet?” asks Johnny.

Simon backtracks to his desk, picking up the copy MacTavish sent him in the post. Lifting it up, Simon brings it over to Soap, smacking him in the chest with it. Johnny whistles and holds it with both hands in reverence.

“She’s a fucking beauty, Simon.” Johnny places one hand over his heart. “You’ve honored me.”

“Piss off,” mutters Simon as Kyle expertly snatches the magazine from Johnny’s hand. He opens it up, flipping through the pages, side-stepping every attempt by Johnny to seize it back.

“Did we come at a good time?” asks Price as he and Simon watch the two idiots playfully bicker over the magazine.

Simon shrugs. “I have one more customer. Free after that.”

Price nods and grips Simon’s shoulder. “We have lots to talk about.”

There is a slight twitch in Price’s clenched jaw that puts Simon on edge. He isn’t sure if he should press Price and try to wrangle an answer out of him, or let it go and see what happens.

“Shit,” says MacTavish, drawing Price and Simon’s attention to him. “Nearly forgot.” He extends an arm to Kyle, making a “give it to me” gesture with his hand. Kyle, with a sly smirk, unzips the front of his windbreaker. Reaching inside, he presents a manila envelope.

Johnny takes it and then offers it to Simon. “Thought I’d give this to you in person. You know, instead of over the phone. Or email.”

Simon takes it, instantly feeling the heft and thickness to it. Opening the tab, Simon slides his hand inside, removing the thick stack of papers.

“It’s everything I could find on her,” continues Johnny. “Where she went to school. Social medias. Every person she’s possibly dated.”

Tucking the manila envelope under his arm, Simon starts sorting through the information. A copy of your birth certificate, school records from elementary to high school, recent phone records. There is even a list of every restaurant or fast-food place you ordered from over the last five years with a credit card.

Simon flips past another page and freezes. His head snaps up, a growl sitting in the back of his throat. “You included her fucking banking information, Johnny.”

MacTavish shrugs dismissively. “I was thorough.”

“Thorough?” mimics Simon. “Fucking hell.” Simon returns everything to the envelope and places it on his desk next to his laptop.

Simon will have to shred it all after he looks through it. But only after he takes a look. He did ask Johnny to find what out what he could. While it is a major invasion of privacy, a more primal part of Simon reassures him that he’s doing the right thing. He needs to be able to protect you, and these are just tools in his arsenal to maintain your safety.

“She’s pretty, Simon,” says Price.

“You told them?” asks Simon, turning his attention to Johnny.

The Scotsman’s cheeks redden slightly. “He bullied the information out of me.”

Kyle leans in and drapes his arm over Soap’s shoulders. “Price told him he’d put him on inventory for a month if he didn’t spill.”

“Wanted to see this beauty for myself,” grumbles Price, glancing at Simon. “Give you a hard time.” He winks. “She yours yet?”

She yours yet?

There is a double-meaning there. While Simon’s instinct is to say “yes,” he also knows that that isn’t entirely true. The two of you haven’t verbally confirmed what this thing is. Simon has only just now asked you on a proper date.

Can Simon call you his?

The possessive, protective part of him shakes its ownership of you in its fist. But Simon isn’t impulsive, at least not all the time. With you, the need to react is strong, but Simon also understands that Price is asking in a more traditional way.

Licking his lips, Simon forms an answer. “She will be.”

Price nods. “Good man.” He glances briefly at Kyle and Johnny before returning his gaze to Simon. “Mind if we stick around?”

Simon shakes his head.

“We’ll help you clean,” adds Johnny.

“Will we?” asks Kyle slowly, eyebrows rising slightly as he turns on Soap.

Johnny blatantly ignores him and keeps his gaze locked on Simon. “You call the shots. Isn’t that right, Lt?”

That’s when Simon’s final client of the evening finally walks through the door. Simon doesn’t have a chance to answer. The customer is a bit bewildered by the small crowd, but the guys know to make themselves scarce. They head over to the couch, lingering in the waiting area with Bravo, chatting quietly as Simon escorts the newcomer into the tattoo chair.

Bravo moves from Johnny to Kyle to Price to Johnny again, seeking attention as Simon sets to work. The tattoo isn’t complicated, and Simon completes in about forty-five minutes. The guy is in and out in an hour.

When the four of them are standing outside in front of the shop, Simon pushes up his balaclava and lights a cigarette. It’s warm for autumn, the leather jacket he wears already making him run a little hot.

“We’ve got an upcoming mission we want your thoughts on,” says Price. “Need somewhere quiet we can go and talk.”

An upcoming mission? That’s not entirely unusual. Price has reached out to Simon on multiple occasions post-retirement to ask him for advice or to dig around in his head. But never—never—has Price and the rest of the team showed up to talk to him a group or in person.

There’s something else going on.

Clutching the cigarette between thumb and forefinger, Simon opens his mouth, exhaling smoke, intending to suggest a few places.

But before anything comes out of his mouth, Price shots him a look. “Not that fucking pub with the old folks.”

“No one will bother us,” replies Simon dryly. It’s true. It’s why he goes to Dancing Faun every Sunday. And Ben will close up for the public but stay open for just the four them. They won’t be bothered, and they will have as much time as they need.

“You might be an old man at heart, Simon, but I’m not getting harassed by older women whose husbands have been dead for years.”

Kyle bursts out laughing before promptly covering his mouth.

“Don’t like the attention, Captain?” teases Johnny.

Price points at each of them individually. “Fuck off. All of you.”

There are only a few places they could go on a Saturday night where they won’t be disturbed. Sighing, Simon rattles off a couple within walking distance. The four of them debate until Price becomes so annoyed with their continuous back-and-forth that he abruptly selects for all of them.

The walk over is quick, and the four of them enter the dimly lit pub. It’s one of only a handful of places that serves food late. It’s also on a side street away from the main road. Traffic is light, and the interior isn’t crowded. Simon is starving, and he’d appreciate a full belly with a whiskey or two before he starts talking about things he’d rather forget.

Finding a dark corner, they settle in at a four top. Kyle and Simon settle in the booth, facing the pub while Price and Johnny take the seats across from them. Simon settles into the cushioned seat, contentment sliding into his bones. He’s at peace, even if the coming conversation might be messy. He’s with people he cares about, and tomorrow, he’s off.

Tomorrow, he can go see you. Maybe. If you’re not busy. The two of you can talk about that date, maybe go for a walk and then lunch? Simon just wants to spend time with you, and tomorrow is the perfect day to do it.

Simon shifts in his seat, leaning his crossed arms on the edge of the table, glancing out across the pub. His gaze travels over every person, his old habits from the military coming to the surface. Recognizing exits and looking for suspicious behavior is as natural as breathing. But everyone around them is minding their own business. They’re either sitting by themselves or with others, not glancing Simon’s way at all.

He does one finally sweep, and that is when his gaze falls upon two people sitting at a high top together near the very back of the pub. Of the two, Simon notices the man first. He has dark hair, possibly brown but it’s difficult to say with the low light. Slightly older than Simon by a few years, and the bloke is wearing an impeccably made suit. It’s odd for a place like this. It stands out.

Simon doesn’t like the man’s demeanor either. It’s…smarmy. Pretentious. Like he not only believes that he’s better than everyone else in this establishment, but that they should all know it. The way he sits in the high-backed stool is off too. It’s relaxed and yet completely on edge.

Simon frowns, gaze panning to the woman the man is talking to.

Everything suddenly goes cold within him. Arctic. The room has become a meat freezer and Simon is just a piece of dangling meat.

Because that is you, and you’re sitting next to a man Simon doesn’t recognize.

You are here, alone with a man Simon doesn’t know.

A bright, blindingly hot sensation roars to life in Simon’s chest. It wraps around and between his ribs, seizing him in a vice-grip. Against this heat, the iciness melts off of him, dripping to the ground to pool under his boots.

“Simon?” asks Soap, the middle of his brow creasing with concern. “What are you—fuck. Is that her?”

It doesn’t fucking matter who this guy might be or what he might mean to you. Simon is going to crack his fucking skull open.

“That’s her,” murmurs Simon, the low growl previously lodged in his throat coming up suddenly.

Price leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the top, glancing to where everyone else is looking. “Want me to take him out to the alley? Give him some fresh bruises?”

Simon’s hands form into fists. He starts to stand but Kyle and Soap grab onto him, shoving him back down into the booth. “Relax, Lt,” soothes Johnny. “Might be nothing.”

You haven’t noticed Simon yet. You’re too busy looking at this man—this stranger. Turned slightly to the side, your gaze wouldn’t fall across Simon unless you purposefully scanned the room. The worst part is that Simon has no idea if you’re enjoying yourself or not. There is a blankness on your face that Simon loathes.

Do want to be here? Do want to be talking to this man that Simon doesn’t know? And why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you say anything? Is there someone else Simon needs to worry about? Does he have competition?

Silently, Simon begs for you to turn in his direction, even if it’s only a bit.

This unknown variable, this stain of a man, reaches out. With red-drenched horror, Simon watches as he places that very hand on the top of your thigh.

All Simon sees is blood.

This bastard is going to lose that fucking hand. And then he’ll lose his goddamn head.

Simon bolts up out of his seat again but Kyle and Johnny are right there, grabbing onto him, wrangling him back down into his seat.

“Let me go,” snarls Simon through clenched teeth.

“You’re gonna cause a fucking scene if we do that,” hisses Kyle, shoving downward on Simon’s shoulders.

Why are you letting him touch you? Why, when just yesterday you were beneath Simon, seeking him with your fingers, begging for him, are you allowing this?

But you’re not allowing it. You didn’t give this man permission.

Within seconds of the man’s hand connecting with your thigh, your gaze turns downward, lips curling back into a disgusted snarl. You twist your body enough for his hand to fall away, and a flare of pride swells in Simon’s chest.

You didn’t want this man’s touch. Which makes Simon momentarily happy before it all comes crashing down. This man touched you. Without your consent. And that makes Simon angrier than if you had wanted it.

Simon craves blood. He needs his knuckles drenched with it. For it to sit between his teeth. To taste it on his tongue.

“Who the fuck is that?” asks Kyle.

“I don’t know,” growls Simon, wanting to take off and punch the guy right out of his fucking chair.

With the removal of his hand, the guy’s smug smile drops. He bares his teeth, starts speaking to you in a way that Simon immediately dislikes. Sure, Simon cannot hear what the man is saying to you, but from the look on his face and body language, it’s nothing nice. He is angry, and you’re clearly upset. Simon wants this to end, to go up to the guy and throttle him, to whisk you off and make you forget all this unpleasantness.

But Kyle and Johnny keep him seated. They won’t let go, which means Simon will have to literally fight them to get to you.

Small pieces of the conversation start to make its way over to the table.

“Archie.”

“Estate.”

Simon frowns, hears something that sounds like “pregnancy” and immediately rethinks everything. Does this have something to do with your friend? The husband is dead, but is this someone the husband knew? Is it a relative?

And does that matter to Simon?

No. He still plans on knocking the man’s teeth out.

Simon only catches a few additional words here and there, but then he hears three that make his blood boil.

“You fucking whore.”

Simon knows that Johnny, Kyle, and Price all hear it too because their gazes move away from Simon and to the man at the table. Soap and Kyle’s hands fall away from Simon’s arms, giving him permission.

Pushing up from his seat, Simon steps around Johnny and strides toward the high-top table. Your back is to Simon from this position, but that doesn’t matter. Simon has his sights set on this wanker who needs to learn some proper fucking manners.

The man notices Simon first, his angered expression turning away from you and switching to Simon. It slips slightly, the faintest bit of fear sliding across the man’s features as he realizes Simon is aiming for him. Simon inhales, falling effortlessly into Ghost, allowing the phantom inside himself to seek out its need for blood.

But with his removed attention comes your own turning. A wanting to know what it is he’s looking at. When your gaze falls upon Simon, Ghost deflates, softens, giving way to confusion. All the emotions passing over your face nearly stop Simon’s forward momentum.

Your own anger gives way to sudden panic, then switches quickly to irritation, further compounded by confusion. It’s likely that you didn’t expect Simon to be at the same place. And while Simon wants to turn to you and give you reassurance, he’s too fucking focused on this asshole you’re sitting with.

Simon decides not to address you. Instead, Simon turns on this thickheaded prat. “What did you fucking call her?”

The man’s lip curls. “Mind your own business.” Immediately, Simon notes the man’s accent. It speaks to social status and aristocracy.

Simon steps closer. “Repeat what you said. Out loud. Want to make sure I heard you right.”

“Simon,” you hiss, desperation leaking into your tone.

Your guest turns on you, anger flaring anew in his gaze. “You know this…man?” He says man like he wants to say animal.

“He’s—” you begin, but Simon interrupts.

“Direct your questions to me,” growls Simon, placing himself between you and this stranger.

“Simon. Please.” You tug on Simon’s leather jacket but he shrugs you off. His attention is completely on this asshole.

“Are you with him?” The man’s gaze flicks from Simon to you.

“Adam—”

“I thought we could have a civil conversation—”

“What’s civil about calling her a whore.” Simon’s voice rises slightly as the raging tide of fury boils within him like a thunderstorm.

Adam’s face grows bright red. He turns on Simon. “Do you know who I am?”

Simon could give a fuck. He could be the fucking King and Simon would still punch the piss out of him for speaking to you that way.

Price shoves himself between Simon and Adam, keeping his back to Simon, creating a barrier. “Let me help you to your car.”

Price isn’t doing this to be nice. He’s doing this so the police aren’t called.

Adam stands but isn’t nearly as tall as Price. “If you put your hands on me—”

“Deal with me or him. Your choice.”

Adam straightens his shoulders and tugs on the front of his suit, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Fucking prick.

He glances over Price’s shoulder at you. “This isn’t over. You’ll hear from the family solicitor.”

“Let’s go,” mutters Soap, caging the guy in, forcing him to move away from Simon. Kyle trails after them.

Price turns around, facing Simon directly. “We’ll stop by another day. You deal with your woman.” He squeezes Simon’s shoulder before following out after them.

Simon watches Price leave, and then he’s seeking you out, expecting you to be thankful.

But you’re not. Your anger is palpable.

Simon needs to fucking fix this. “You’re coming home with me,” is the first thing out of his mouth. It’s a command. Not an ask. And his tone is rough, nearly raspy.

Your eyes widen slightly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you whisper.

Simon draws back, startled. “You okay with him speaking to you like that?”

You huff, and get up from your chair, collecting your coat and purse. “You don’t know anything, Simon. You have no idea who that is and why we were even talking in the first place.” Shoving past him, you start for the door.

“Fuck,” mutters Simon, following after you.

His legs are longer, and he catches up to you easily. Before you make it to the pub’s exit, Simon inserts himself in your path, blocking your attempt to flee.

“Move.”

“No.”

“You’re making a scene, Simon.”

He glances up, notices everyone looking on with varying degrees of interest. Some confused. Others concerned. Sighing, Simon reaches back and pushes open the door, stepping aside for you to exit.

Once the two of you are outside on the street, Simom grabs you by the forearm, pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Let me go,” you snap.

“We’re going to talk.”

“Fuck off, Simon.” You yank your arm out of his grip. Something is forming on the tip of your tongue. Simon sees it in the way your lip quivers. But you don’t. Instead, you sigh heavily and wave him off like you’re tired of it all.

Turning, you try to cross the street, but Simon is already snagging your arm again, yanking you away as a car zooms by.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“Then give me some fucking space.”

“No.”

You release an exasperated breath and try to circumvent him. Again, Simon steps into your path. The two of you keep moving like this down the street. Every attempt you make only puts you closer to him.

Simon is herding you on purpose, pushing you closer and closer to his flat. He wants some goddamn answers, no matter how mad you are with him. And he doesn’t understand why you’re upset in the first place.

When the two of you are outside his shop, Simon indicates the exterior door that leads to his flat.

“Get inside,” he demands.

“Don’t order me around.”

“Inside,” repeats Simon, shoving the key into the lock, opening the door, revealing the hallway that connects the shop to his flat.

You stare between him and the open doorway. Your chest is heaving, and fuck—you look so beautiful right now even though Simon can tell you’d really love to hit him.

The tips of his fingers itch to just push you inside and shut the door, but he doesn’t need to. You make the decision for him, heading inside. Simon follows, and as the door shuts, you’re already moving like a bolt of lightning, walking fast enough to create a significant amount of distance.

No. Fuck that.

With a few massive steps, Simon is on you. He grabs the front of your throat, yanks you back against his chest, pushing your face toward his. The balaclava is already up, already in place, and his lips connect with yours.

At first, Simon can sense the tension but then you melt into him as his other hand slides to your front, pressing low on your belly, pushing your ass into his groin. Your own arm slides up, drapes over his neck in such a loving way that Simon momentarily forgets all his anger.

The two of you hang like this, suspending, but you come back to reality, yanking yourself out of his grip, almost violently.

“You can’t distract me with kisses, Simon.”

“Want to test that?” asks Simon, reflexively reaching for your waist.

You allow him to touch you, to draw you back into him, but your arms are crossed over your chest defensively. “You don’t know,” you murmur. “It’s—it’s too much and you don’t know. You don’t understand, Simon.”

“Then help me understand,” he says softly.

You shake your head and there are real tears there in your eyes. Simon hates it. He wants to take them all away.

“You’re not my husband, Simon. You’re not even my boyfriend. I shouldn’t burden you with any of this.”

You will not push him away. Simon won’t allow it. The two of you are in this together, and he needs to know.

“I care about you.” Now Simon is the one shaking his head. “Don’t tell me what I can’t handle.” His hands draw upward, cradling the sides of your face. “We’re going up to my flat. You’re going to talk. I’m going to listen. Okay?”

One tear rolls off the corner of your eye, trailing downward to kiss his palm.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Okay,” you reply.

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—————

Full transparency, I genuinely don't know how long I have left. My family and I have been going through some very difficult times lately, but especially financially. Our family business hasn't been doing well ever since the mall closed off the parking area where our shop resides, consequently reducing our exposure visibility to the general public. We don't have the capital to buy for marketing materials like posters and flyers. It's been a rough month for us sales wise. There's talks of our store having to shut down if this keeps getting worse before the construction may be completed sometime in 2025.

We're just barely getting by. We've had our power cut twice already because of late payments. We've lost running water once. Not to mention we're still behind on dues to the mall for letting us rent out the space, the suppliers, the employees working for us. There's so much we have to pay, and right now, our revenue is not enough. At this point, we're only banking on a miracle to save us from complete financial ruin. Hell, I don't even know if we can even afford basic necessities in the near future. This includes the internet and my education, which sucks because I'm so—so close to graduating and being able to help out in some shape or form.

I'm telling you all this because it means I'll be forced to let go of stuff that I'm genuinely passionate about. Finding a job in this economy is already fucking difficult for anyone, let alone in this country with horrible pay and inflated living costs. I don't wanna waste hours away at a thankless job I'm clearly not fit for, and I might as well spend that energy on something I have some experience in. I will deal with burnout when I get to that point; right now it's about making the most of whatever resources I have currently to live another day.

I am not requiring you to feel sympathy for me or asking for free money. I know that you have bigger priorities than to show care for some random person on the internet. But even just a reblog to spread the word is more than enough. I seriously cannot be here without your continued, unwavering patience and support even after three years doing this. I know I'm not the best, but I certainly am trying.

With that said, all my content will remain freely accessible regardless. If it's in my masterlist, it can be read. Thank you—thank you—so much for reading.

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 6 Eng Sub

VS SHOOTING and VS FALLING IN LOVE

It's the season 3 finale!

For downloading instructions and where to find the raw files, please check our masterpost.

[Subs link]

We ask that you not upload our subs to streaming sites.

Sharing with friends is fine. We’re also OK with folks sharing them in other ways as long as they aren’t public. Please use discretion when talking about the fansub outside of tumblr, but don’t hesitate to get the word out in other ways, and feel free to promote it here. Please credit ikeoji-subs whenever possible—we put a lot of time and effort into this.

Feel free to use the fansub for fandom purposes. Gif-making, meta-writing, and other fandom-related creative endeavors made using our fansub are not only welcome but encouraged.

This is the final episode of this season! We're both going to miss working on this project. When it comes to plans for the future, we're still figuring that part out, but rest assured that we'll keep everyone posted here if we have another project in the works. For the moment, we once again want to thank everyone who has spread the word or had a kind word for us in the tags and elsewhere.

Big big thanks to our pal @my-rose-tinted-glasses for letting us make use of her talents and helping our posts and translation notes look special.

translation notes:

about “acknowledge the way I feel” (20:27)

The first, more literal translation of this line, which Hatano says on the bridge, was, “Can you accept my feelings?” That line definitely gets something across, but I knew we’d be leaving it open to varied interpretations–some of them inaccurate–if we didn’t make it more specific. I might go a little overboard in the specificity department sometimes. I think it’s probably due to a combination of my ADHD-related quirks and having spent too much time picking apart variables as a researcher. Whatever the reason, this time I was kind of in overdrive because this line seemed pretty important. 

I asked Snow some questions about what “accept” meant in this instance. In English–and in the American cultural context I’m used to–there are lots of specific ways to talk about a situation like this one. Someone in Hatano’s position in the US would have a plethora of options for inquiring about Mob’s thoughts and emotions and/or making requests about how he might respond to their feelings. Is Hatano asking Mob to simply believe that he has these feelings about him? To let him show these feelings toward him openly, even if he only allows this passively, without offering anything in return? To receive them in a way that implies he returns them or that otherwise implies some degree of connection between them? And so on. 

I was expecting cultural differences to come up around this line, but they came up in a way I wasn’t expecting. Snow responded by telling me that there wasn’t a really specific meaning behind the Japanese wording of this line and that that was characteristic of the Japanese language around such things. I knew that I was more intense than the average American about wanting to pinpoint the meanings of things, but it would seem that the average American is more intense about it than the average Japanese person. 

That was a really interesting insight (one that I’m still thinking about), but it still left me with a conundrum when it came to this line. I could stick with “accept,” since it had a kind of vagueness to it (which was part of the reason I started trying to reword the line in the first place). But I thought “accepting” feelings sounded closer than I’d like to possibly reciprocating them, and I knew from my conversation with Snow that that shouldn’t be implied here. 

I started looking at thesaurus entries and going down different synonym paths. I wanted a word that, in its broadest sense, would be asking very little of the other person. I figured if the Japanese wording was open to being interpreted as either asking for very little or asking for more, then the English wording should be something that could at least be taken as not asking for much, because the implication that Hatano wants more than that from Mob is already clearly present. 

When I came across “acknowledge,” it fit the bill. At first, I just thought of its meaning on a smaller scale. It’s not much to ask of someone to simply acknowledge something, in most contexts. 

But after just a little bit of thought, I realized it also had a useful kind of vagueness. Acknowledgement can be as small as a barely perceptible nod, but it’s also used to talk about thanking someone, giving credit, commending or honoring someone, even giving someone a reward. In a romantic context, depending on the specific story, you could imagine “acknowledge” meaning anything from “yeah, I see you over there” all the way to someone’s devotion being rewarded in all the ways they’ve hoped for. 

Some of these uses are more of a stretch and would only work in just the right context. The default meaning of the word is clearly on the more modest side. But that works well, too. I took this request as coming from a pretty humble, unassuming place and I figured “acknowledge” was reflective of that. 

I ended up being really happy with this word choice. Hopefully, it’ll get the right idea across to folks who watch the show with our subtitles, even if they don’t read this translation note. But I hope that reading this gets it across even more effectively.–Towel

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[yamysunmoon]

The Anticipation

Pairing: agatha harkness x rio vidal

Summary: Rio crosses boundaries challenging Agatha's orders, and faces the consequences submitting to a punishment session.

Words count: 3-4k

Warnings: bdsm, specifically d/s dynamic, bondage and mouth mask. Mistress!Agatha, Sub!Rio, Brat!Rio. Oral sex, masturbation.

A/N: I was really looking forward to write agathario fanfics, this is the first but won't be the last. English is not my first language, sorry if there's any mistake.

Requests are open! if you have any suggestions feel free to share

creds to the best editor one could have, @milfsdoll (check out her work she's amazing)

Enjoy!

"Alright, so... We have to do the groceries, purchase clothes because I really need a new coat... Was there something else? There's something I'm missing... That's right, Jen! She texted me, the candle you were waiting for is done" Agatha took a glaze at her right. "Hun? Have you heard me?"

Rio was staring at her with a lost look and a sly smile. She bliked twice as she heard the nickname. "Yeah, okay", she babbled. "Can we stop at the mall the latest? If you don't mind" she suggested in a soft voice Agatha loved. The blue-eyed woman nodded in response and took a short glanze at her, again.

Rio loved mornings like this. At the car with Agatha, watching her drive with her right hand, her head resting on her left hand carefree. She looked so relaxed and had an unbelievable profile side. Rio was admiring her pretty big nose, her long lashes guarding those beautiful breathtaking blue eyes; and her full, soft lips; as the woman was mindlessly listing what they had to do.

"Yeah okay, I don't mind" Agatha said, totally overlooking Rio's intentions. The green witch had something in mind. She couldn't bare having her wife looking that good and not doing something about it.

Over the next half hour they had already done the groceries, put them in the car and were now on their way to Jen's. Rio said she wanted to walk, which surprised Agatha yet she agreed.

They were walking when they brushed hands. They both felt the familiar warmth in their chests, Rio grabbed Agatha's hand making her stop. They shared a gaze, it was clear what Rio wanted. Agatha looked both ways of the street before staring at her again. "Not here".

Rio was smiling softly. "Why not? Who cares, we are free now!"

Agatha smirked, she loved it when Rio celebrated they had overcome their first years of relationship, when they were forced to hide their love and Agatha would always be paranoid about her mother finding out.

Rio took a step closer to her. "We're free now" she repeated and squeezed her hand once. Agatha broke the distance between them giving her a soft kiss.

Rio attempted to deepen the kiss, but Agatha quickly pulled away, a cocky smile gracing her lips. "I said 'not here', doll" she warned her. Rio smiled back and nodded, obedient.

Later at Jen's store, Jen and Agatha were chatting and Rio was supposed to contribute to the conversation too, but she couldn't listen to a single word the women were saying. She just couldn't take her eyes off her wife.

The wide, tucked-in, slightly unbuttoned shirt that she was wearing was driving her insane, and her confident elegant presence and figure had Rio blown away.

"Rio, you haven't said a single word. Is the candle to your liking?" Jen tried to chat. She hummed in response and didn't even looked at her. Jen turned to Agatha. "Is she okay?"

Agatha gave Rio a quick glance. This time, she saw something in her eyes. "Yeah, she's fine". She was lying.

As they left, Rio seemed distracted and Agatha was already suspecting of her. "What was that?" she inquired.

Rio shrugged, pretending innocence. "It was nothing" she lied too. Agatha knew, so she let her be and the seed of expectation was planted.

Already in the mall, Rio started with her plan. She started giving Agatha careless caresses here and there, back and forth, each time she would pass by her looking for the perfect coat. She was subtle at first but Agatha soon discovered her intentions and deliberately ignored her.

Rio gradually lost delicacy and went from carelessly brushing to grabbing her arms as she passed behind her, squeezing twice, talking to her in a soft whisper, "is this what you want?" casually referring to a coat, apparently.

Agatha knew how to control her temper, but Rio was getting to her nerves. At some point, they were at a side of the store where no one was watching them and Rio hugged her from behind and rested her body on Agatha's, going full contact.

Agatha groaned. "Do you really want me to stop, sweetheart?" The green witch asked in a sweet, enchanting tone.

Agatha remained still. Rio lightened her grip and her wife walked away taking Rio's hand, driving her to the fitting rooms without saying a word.

She pushed Rio up against the wall as soon as the cortains were drawn. She grabbed her by her clothes and shortly lifted her off the ground. Agatha's pupils had dilated and were staring deep at Rio's eyes.

Rio was feeling her fists against her skin thriugh her clothes and sly smiled. She had won. She had her full attention now, and had defenitely turned her on.

Agatha slowly approached leaning for a kiss when Rio tilted her head to a side. She looked at Agatha sideways, who was giving her a gaze of disbelief.

They shared a glance, challenging eachother. Agatha lowered a hand to Rio's crotch, but she then pulled her legs together.

Agatha raised both eyebrows, her eyes widened. She took a step back and got her hands off her wife. She was offended. "Are you seriously turning me down right now? After provoking me the whole morning?"

Rio couldn't help but smile mischievously, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall in a cocky gesture. Agatha snorted, outraged.

"Oh, you're in trouble, bratty girl. You. Are. In trouble. We'll talk about this at home" she took a step to whisper, "upstairs".

She walked away before seeing Rio's expression, which was of pure excitement. This is exactly what she wanted from the start.

"Look what you've done. Now you're getting punished" she quietly whispered to herself.

"Can't wait".

Rio was surrounded by almost complete darkness. The only thing that enlightened the room was a squared shaped skylight.

She was in the playroom they had at the attic.

The skylight was pointing to the black king sized bed they had in the middle of the room. It poorly lit up some handcuffs hanging on the headbord and an eye mask. Surrounding the bed there were big closets that kept all kind of sex toys and sex torturing tools.

Rio didn't know what Agatha had planned for her, but she was dying to find out. She had dressed up for the occasion, she was wearing a vaporous green top tied to her back and back of her neck, and a simple yet effective black thong. She was barefoot, feeling the cold floor below her feet. Less means more when it comes to seduce Agatha, it's what she thought.

Rio took a step closer. She ran her fingertips through the satin sheets and closed her eyes as she felt the smooth fabric. She breathed in, the leather smell of the room filled her nostrils. Her whole body shivered with anticipation.

And she stood there, her back to the entrance door, her hands relaxed still in touch with the sheets, her head tilted up, to the skylight, her eyes closed. Breath in, breath out. She was waiting.

Agatha made her entrance a few minutes later. Rio felt the nervousness growing in her stomach. The sound of Agatha's heels was getting closer and closer. She finally closed the gap between them until she found herself right behind Rio. She ran her fingers along her spine.

"Do you know why you're here, brat?"

Agatha's voice was deep, serious and slightly raspy. Rio smiled and tilted her head towards her.

"Have I been bad, perhaps?"

Agatha's right hand was now running along her neck. She grabbed tight and Rio could feel her inditex and thumb on the sides of her neck. Her bodies were brushing.

"You haven't behaved like I needed you to. It's unacceptable".

She was looking at Rio's eyes with irritation and disapproval apparently, but deep down she enjoyed punishment sessions just as much as her brat did.

"I'm willing to pay for my actions, M'lady" she was using her brat voice again, she was mocking Agatha giving her a smirk.

Agatha squeezed harder. "Don't call me that now. I'm your Mistress". Rio gasped and her smile widened, looking psychotic.

"Whatever you say, Mistress".

Agatha nodded now satisfied. Rio looked down to her lips and was about to approach when Agatha stopped eye contact.

It was then when she showed what she was carring with her left hand. She positioned it in front of Rio's eyes, who looked ahead. Her eyes widened as she inmediately recognized the toy. She held her breath for a second feeling her core shrink.

"You were really disobedient before. It really annoyed me". Agatha's voice behind Rio was mesmerizing, and her right hand was now carrissing her chin. "Are you willing to put your voice and complete being at my service?"

Rio was staring at the mouth mask with determination. "I am, Mistress". Her voice shoke with pure excitment.

"Do you know what to do if you can't take it?"

Agatha needed to be sure about Rio's commitment and consent at all times. She wouldn't be able to speak up, so they had non verbal ways of communicating through the session. Rio sure remembered what she had to do, but she couldn't help but giggle, her brat nature overcoming her once again.

"You think I can't take a little ball in my mouth?"

Agatha looked at her from her left and made her tilt her head. "No more games, bratty. Stop it now". Oh, she was pissed.

Rio said no more. Her brat mode was on, she couldn't stop herself. She wanted to take her wife and Mistress to her fucking limit, so that she would take her to the limit. So she just stared at her and raised an eyebrow. She looked at her lips again, so soft and seductive.

Agatha then raised an eyebrow too and gave her a little smirk. Her eyes lit up with a sort of macabre vibe in them, and she stepped back leaving Rio eager.

She stood behind her again. She was running her fingertips all over her nude arms, shoulders and back, giving her goosebumps. Finally she tucked Rio's hair behind her shoulder so her face would be exposed. She took a glanze at her once again, "Open your mouth", she said, before placing the toy.

Rio instantly opened her mouth just wide enough so that the ball could be placed. She couldn't help to close her eyes in pure pleasure as she felt the object, its smoothness and slightly cold sensation.

Agatha took the belts and adjusted them on the back of her head. Rio felt them tighten around her head. The leather fabric was soft to the touch.

"Is it too tight?" The Mistress joyfully asked. Rio nodded, also playing. Agatha knew she was kidding, so she tied it tighter with a determined pull. Rio mouned in response.

Agatha stood again behind her and started running her fingertips, touching her arms, shoulders and hips. She removed the threads that kept Rio's top hanging and unraveled two more on her waist. The piece fell on the black sheets. Agatha heard Rio's gasp.

She countinued touching her very superficially, barely meeting her skin and defenitely not satisfying Rio's desperate need of contact. She was teasing Rio's body with her hands, challenging her, torturing her.

Rio knew she wasn't allowed to move. She was at Agatha's will now. She had to be patience and good so she would eventually give her what she wanted. That was what the whole show back in Jen's shop was about. She teased her earlier because she couldn't bare how much she needed her. So she claimed her attention until it was too much, until she was too bad and had to be punished. Now she'd have to be obedient and compliant. Agatha would reward her later.

At least that's what she was telling herself as Agatha's hands kept touching her in that breathtaking way. She thanked Gaia the ball of the mask had holes, and her heavy breathing invaded the whole room.

Agatha wanted to tease Rio as much as she could but her discipline was starting to fall apart. Rio was trying her best not to move but the goosebumps she was giving her were obvious.

She slowly approached until her lips met the back of Rio's neck. She kissed her skin chastely. Rio almost shook her head, but managed to stay still and instead just hummed.

"Very well" Agatha kissed her again in sign of approbal. "This is exactly how I want you, bratty. Just like this. So good" she kept talking in a calm voice as her kisses went down her spine.

She got on her knees meeting the last piece of fabric that kept Rio for being completely naked. She breathed in, breathing in her scent. She smiled again, she was crazy for that smell.

"Looks like you're ready for me, aren't you?", she looked up. Rio nodded fervently. The brunette was dying to touch Agatha, she sure was. Agatha knew that. That's why she loved how Rio's whole body trembled as she took the black thong' strings and pulled it down.

"Up" she whispered grabbing Rio's right leg. Rio raised it so Agatha could take the string. Did the same thing with the other side. Rio stood up firm again and Agatha took a minute to admire her.

"Oh, how good you look from down here" her voice was still whispers, she was amazed. Rio raised an eyebrow, pleased.

"Spread a little, my bratty" her tone became hardened but still in a whisper as she stood up to take something from a closet Rio couldn't see.

She obeyed, positioning herself as she knew Agatha wanted her to. When Agatha turned around and saw her, her jaw dropped for a moment. She stared at her from where she was, where Rio couldn't reach her, as she played with the toy between her hands.

"Lean on the bed" She bit her lip as Rio did exactly what she said. She could watch her like this all day, spread for her, resting her hands on the mastress, still stood up. Agatha was still playing with the toy, she turned it on. The sound of vibration instantly filled their ears.

Rio recognized that sound at once. She sighed and let out a desperate groan. Agatha's deep laugh was what she recieved for response at first. Then, she reached Rio and stood behind her again and made her wait a little longer before the clit-sucker entered in contact with her body. She first positioned it at her left thigh, so close to her vulva. She moved it around that zone, same thing on her right thigh.

Rio was doing an incredible job holding back. She craved that vibrations just some inches further up, and a little move would place the toy just where she needed it, but she knew that would be silly. She had to wait. Just a little longer...

Agatha knew her lover's body as if it was hers -though it kinda was hers-, she felt her desperation, but she wanted to test her. How much could she take?

This is what she was referring to when she asked earlier. It wasn't physical resistance what intrigued her. She wanted to make Rio go insane, because that's what she deserved for being such a fucking brat.

"This is what you've earned", she kept moving the object impossibly near to where it was needed, yet not reaching that point. "This is what you gain when you disobey my orders, bratty".

Rio would've talked if she could. She knew how to win her with words, she always managed to find a way out. She knew how to seduced her.

But Agatha sure knew how to play that game to.

The Mistress kept teasing her for fifteen torturing minutes. She was dragging the toy from her pubis to her groins, never sucking what it should.

It was in such an intense mood that was actually stimulating Rio's clitoris down her lips, but it still wasn't enough for her. Both could feel Rio's wetness making the toy slip more than once, touching her folds for a second, causing her to tremble and groan.

Agatha could feel Rio's wetness all over the place, soaking her fingers when she slightly touched the zone everytime she moved the toy back and forth. When the toy slipped, she showed no mercy and pushed it away each and every time.

Although it was incredibly difficult to hold on, Rio had enough control on herself to stay still. She had to grab the sheets, groan and heavily breath the whole time - teasing Agatha without realizing-, but managed to keep still.

At some point she started feeling numb, losing her senses. She needed to be released so bad her arms ached and trembled, she was so needy and desperate she started to moan in a different way. Agatha recognized that specific moan. Rio was begging.

Heavily breathing, Rio tried to vocalize her need eventhough she knew she probably wasn't allowed to. She didn't care at this point, she needed to be fucked.

Indeed, Agatha could not understand her but she had a vague idea. She let out a maquiavelic, light cackle.

"Alright beauty, are you gonna behave now?" she finally asked.

Rio nodded eagerly and hummed, and tried to look at her, but couldn't tilt her head just enough. That made her feel even more needy.

"Aw, breaks my heart to see you like this" she mocked her with a touch of pitty in her tone. "You really can't take this any longer, can you?" She turned the clit-sucker off.

Rio furrowed her eyebrows and felt angry and arrogant for a moment, but horniness quickly won the war. Agatha had got closer now so Rio could communicate with her. Still with her eyebrows frown, Rio reached Agatha's arm and squeezed twice.

Agatha smirked and returned the squeeze. "I love it when you give in like this, beauty". Rio snorted in response, making Agatha laugh as she positioned behind her again turning the toy on. "Come on, you love it", she paused, "the anticipation".

Rio heavily breathed in. She was feeling numb again, it was as if Agatha had put a spell on her. It wouldn't be a surprise, tho. She nodded gently, docile.

Agatha was finally pleased. She was very excited too at that point, and couldn't extend this very longer eather. She explored Rio's mound one more time before finally introducing it between her folds.

Rio let out a loud groan as she finally felt the damned toy sucking what it should. "Ough, it was fucking time already" is what she was trying to say with that mask on her mouth preventing her from doing so.

Agatha was holding her by the right hip. She gave her a warning grab. She moved the clit sucker a few milimeters away as Rio whined again. "Don't be a whiny and get on the bed".

Rio crawled to the middle of the bed and stayed in that position, her legs spread and her back curved. Agatha stood on her knees right behind her and started properly masturbating her at last.

Rio groaned, head back and eyes closed. Agatha's right hand positioned on Rio's right hip moved in a way that Rio knew very well. She was letting her swing.

Rio grabbed the sheets and started bouncing her hips against the clit sucker in a profound, firm way. She rested her forehead on the mastress and made her ass go up as her back bend.

Agatha gasped, she started breathing heavinily and she pleased her wife, her bratty beautiful woman, as she watched her get absolutely lost on her pleasure.

The bratty woman started fucking the toy in such a violent, thirsty way. Agatha was playing with the sensations moving it at her will, making it stimulate this or that zone of Rio's vulva, going from her major labia to her clit, to her entrance, spreading her wetness everwhere, enjoying Rio's gasps with every move.

Rio followed Agatha's hand at all times and her hips followed her Mistress rythm. She felt sweat trickling down her thighs, she felt Agatha licking her back. She felt her hands stiffened from gripping the sheets so tightly. And she obviously felt the tension building in her lower stomach and in her cunt. She tried to pull it back again and again, and Agatha smirked at the vision of Rio's way of torturing herself, without her intromision.

She squeezed her hips lovingly, ready to be there for her. "You can cum now, bratty", she said.

Rio didn't thought it twice, she actually wasn't thinking at all. She crumbled down on Agatha's hand, sinking so deep in her yearned enjoyment, feeling those vibrations deep inside her, making her tremble and shake and shudder so hard she couldn't hold her orgasm anymore.

She released a loud, high-pitched moan as she held it, Agatha moving the toy up and down just the right way to extend it as long as possible.

Agatha knew exactly when to put it away, just when Rio was feeling overstimulated. When Rio was finally free, she let herself fall on the mastress, face down, gasping.

Agatha laid next to her and held her whispering praises. She untied the mask and stroke her hair lovingly. She started breathing deep and camly so Rio would copy her, which she did eventually.

Rio moved away a few minutes later, lying face up. Agatha was watching her every moves, resting her elbow on the pillow. Their gazes met, they laughed for a moment. Their laughter faded, Agatha was about to kiss her but Rio talked, with determination.

"I'm ready".

Agatha rewarded her with the sexiest smile before pulling her closer into a deep meaningful kiss. Rio was cought by surprise but instinctively gave in. Agatha grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her up, leaving her leaning against the headboard of the bed. Rio let out a gasp as her head hit the wood.

"What are you going to do to me?" She asked joyfully.

"Nothing you don't desire", was all she said before kissing her passionately.

Rio was barely putting her hands on her when Agatha stopped the kiss to grab the handcuffs hanging above them.

"Ough, Mistress,..." She was about to complain but Agatha glared at her with a warning expression in her eyes. Rio gulped and said no more.

Agatha cuffed her to the bed within seconds. She took advantage of the positions they were in to look at her clothes for the first time. Agatha was wearing a tight deep purple and black corset that lifted her chest and lace black panties. Her High heeled boots went almost to her knees, and these were also black, made of latex.

Rio started feeling distressed as she found herself deprived of moving again. Agatha was on her knees in front of Rio, cupping her beautiful face with one hand. Rio looked at her eagerly.

"I beg of you, Agatha. Mistress... My mistress, please, let me touch you" her glanze went down to her body. She was starving.

As Agatha's panties were black, Rio couldn't tell but she was soaked wet. She knew exactly what she was gonna do to her. She got up on the bed and, leaning against the headboard of the bed with one hand, she lifted one leg and slowly stuck the needle of her boot between Rio's boobs.

"Oh, and i'm letting you, my dear. I'm gonna let you touch me, for sure. Don't you think it's time for you to please your Mistress?"

Rio felt the needle pressuring against her skin. That kind of pain was tickling. Her jaw dropped. "Fuck yeah" she concured, her eyes wide open. Agatha chuckle, arrongantly. She pulled away the boot and started taking off her clothes.

She got undressed with Rio's gaze all over her, greedy. She had the idea of doing it slowly, but after watching Rio cum the way she did, and look at her like that now, she was done playing games. So she took it all off and sat on Rio's lap.

Rio went for her tits without hesitation and let out a moan as soon as the pink hard left nipple brushed her lips. Agatha grabbed Rio's hair and moved it at her will, making her kiss, lick and suck wherever she wanted her to.

She bounced towards her bratty letting her instincts take control. Rio also moved her body towards Agatha, groaning as her hands couldn't reach her beloved.

Agatha kept Rio stimulating her for some minutes, and she would've loved to stay like that for a while, but her body had other plans. The pressure building in her lower stomach was persistent.

"Fuck, I need to sit on your face" she said standing up.

"Do so, then" it's all Rio could say before reciving Agatha's cunt right on her mouth.

She started sucking and licking as if her life depended on it and Agatha rode her without an ounce of mercy. She was bouncing so hard she had to hold on to the headboard of the bed. Taking advantage of her position, she uncaffed Rio with a simple gesture of her hands. Rio was quick to react and grabbed Agatha's ass, pulling her even closer.

Agatha fucked Rio's face for a delightful time. Everytime she was feeling the orgasm reaching her, she slowed her movements. Rio also licked lightly everytime that happened. Then, as she felt more in control, Agatha would speed up again, making herself and Rio go crazy.

They both had a great time playing with Agatha's body that way, to a point in which she wasn't able to contain the pleasure any longer.

She let out a freed loud moan as her cum soaked Rio's lips and chin. Rio still sucked for a little while, while Agatha rode her gently a little longer.

"Fuck, sometimes I don't know when to stop" she admitted in a sigh, getting off her, she sat on Rio's lap. They looked at eachother's eyes.

"I can't get enough of you, M'Lady" Rio said, fearless. Agatha was already gasping and her beloved still wanted to leave her speechless.

"I love you", those were three words she always managed to say, tho. They relied on eachother's foreheads and their noses brushed.

"I fucking love you too, Agatha".

[yourmoonmomma]

ABOUT ME & READING SERVICES

Re-doing my pinned post again, now that another birthday has passed and have returned from my paid reading hiatus.

I'm a 24 year old cosmic witch with a Cancer Sun, Pisces Moon, and Sagittarius Rising; I have a Cancer & 8th House Stellium. I'm transmasc, and my pronouns are he/they. I prefer gender-neutral and masculine terms, with "mom/momma" being the only exception.

This blog is dedicated to witchcraft. I will post about my life from time-to-time as well, but these posts will use the #abt me. If you are only here for readings and/or astrology, look at #readings or #astrology. I also have a #divination and #witchcraft tag. I do have a multitude of sideblogs for my other interests, feel free to inquire about them if you are interested.

This is my full-time job, so any and all support is appreciated. Ko-fi is the best way to tip me, which you can access by clicking here! If Ko-Fi doesn't work for you/isn't available, let me know and we can discuss other tip/payment options. I do also have 3 published poetry books that you can find on Amazon. Their titles are "I Call For You, Endlessly", "I Bleed Your Blood", and "Into The Floral Night" written by Alexandra Joan.

I started studying astrology, divination, and witchcraft somewhere between the ages of 7-9 years old. You can check my #reviews tag for reviews.

FREE READINGS

My free readings are always open! You can ask through DMs or my askbox. Please do not send more than 5 questions more message/ask, as it becomes a little overwhelming, however you can send multiple messages/asks! Do not ask about health, death, or pregnancy. If you tip with the free reading request, I'll give you a more in-depth answer to your question(s). As well, as a disclaimer, the answers you receive are not set in stone. You can make the decisions in your own life, and you should not base serious decisions on what a stranger on the internet says. You control your own life. Not me, or any other reader.

PAID TAROT READINGS

3 Card Reading - $6.25 - You can ask 1-3 questions for this reading, however only 3 cards are pulled. Meaning either a 3 card pull for 1 question, or 1 card per question if you ask 3 questions. Clarifiers to be pulled if needed. This can be done as a written reading or a video reading.

Multi-Question Reading - $13 - A 3 card, at least, reading where I pull a minimum of 3 cards to answer each question you have. Meaning if you ask 3 questions, you will receive 9 cards. Clarifiers are pulled as needed. This can be done as a written reading or a video reading.

PAID ASTROLOGY READINGS

All astrology readings require your birth date, birth time, and birth place. Some readings may require additional information.

Transit Analysis - $18.75 - A written reading to either provide you with a week-ahead forecast based on how the week's transits interact with your Natal Chart, or to let you know how a specific transit will affect you (such as Mercury retrograde). This reading does require your current place of residency.

Specific Placement or Question Analysis - $24.50 - A written reading to either give you further insight on a placement in your Natal Chart (this extends to asteroids as well!) or to answer a specific question you have (such as "what career suits me best") using your Natal Chart. This reading is best for someone who has already read their Natal Chart/understands it.

Natal Chart - $44.75 - A written reading analyzing your Natal/Birth Chart.

Composite Chart - $44.75 - A written reading analyzing your relationship with someone in your life. It is best for learning how the relationship exists as its own entity, the way the relationship changes and shapes you both, and the world around you. I will need the second person's birth date, birth time, and birth place as well.

Synastry Chart - $56 - A written reading also analyzing your relationship with another person, however this is best for learning how you & the other person interact with one another, where the pitfalls & shortcomings exist in the relationship, and the way you two can support each other & communicate healthier.

Solar Return - $56.50 - A written reading analyzing your Solar Return Chart. This Chart is created once a year, on/around your birthday, when the Sun returns to the same position it was when you were born. It helps provide an idea of what opportunities and obstacles your Solar Year holds for you, and how you can best take advantage of the year.

If there are any other readings you are interested in, and you don't see them listed here, let me know. As well, if you have an idea of what you want, but don't know what reading is best, also let me know!

[dukeofdelirium]

This has to quite possibly be the dumbest Anti-Aang I’ve seen on Tumblr. “Aang didn’t go out of his way for anyone”. Like that’s objectively wrong, factually incorrect. Like saying The Earth is flat, you can think it all you want, but it ain’t true. I ask you, I genuinely ask you, how can someone call themselves a fan of this show when they completely misinterpret it and hate the main character this much? This person’s crazy.

Aang never went out of his way for anyone? My god, if this take were true, Zuko would have been dead at the end of season one. Everyone aside from Aang was fine with the idea of allowing Zuko to freeze to death, leaving him to die. Aang was the one that saved him.

Holy shit, the first thing Aang ever offered to do with no expectation of anything in return was to offer Sokka and Katara a ride home before they died themselves stranded in the tundra. He then offered to take Katara to the other side of the world to fulfill her dreams. When he was banished from her village, he left without protest and even said he didn’t want to come between Katara and her family. Even when he was sad to leave because he had just made a first friend in who knows how long (seeing as we know he was ostracized at the temple), he still left.

He then came back not to break the banishment but to save their lives. He offered himself up, LITERALLY sacrificed himself for them, with no expectation of anything in return.

Aang is an extremely compassionate, good natured person. He is the most “altruistic” character in the show, followed only by Katara who comes nearly as close (one of the reasons they are so good together).

He singlehandedly put the fires out on Kyoshi Island that ZUKO SETS, he protects the NWT from invasion in every possible way he can and singlehandedly wipes out their fleet when he gives himself over to the ocean spirit, he demands they search for Bumi NOT because he needs a teacher but because bumi is his FRIEND! He saves everyone in the cave by making sure they don’t get fucking crushed with its collapse, he is willing to sacrifice himself and force himself into the Avatar State to win the war because he is that guilt ridden even when the AS is extremely painful and traumatizing to him, he stops this only when it affects Katara because he loves her, he offers to let Toph run away with them not because he wants to use her as a teacher but because he listened to her life story and wishes to help her feel free, he fucking dies for Katara and sacrificed his own love for her to save her life

he tries to shoulder every burden he feels on his own as a means to protect the other characters

he supports Sokka when he voices insecurities, he is welcoming and friendly to Hakoda and even inquires about how Katara is feeling when he meets Hakoda, he sobs during the eclipse invasion because Katara and Sokka have to be separated from their father again and Aang blames himself for this defeat and is grief stricken because he is so upset they are losing their dad again (and he thinks it’s his fault)

Why the actual fuck would Katara ever “choose” Zuko over Aang?

Katara was never deeply tied to Zuko. She always saw him as an enemy trying to take away the boy she loved. This is why she threatened to fucking kill him.

Zuko helped his sister murder Aang right in front of Katara’s eyes. It was canonically the darkest period of her life.

Katara’s anger and hatred toward Zuko is 100% justified. Of course, Zuko is a self absorbed ass, so he claims her anger isn’t justified and that she’s just projecting. Her anger toward him specifically had far more to do with what he did to Aang and far less to do with what the Fire nation and Zuko’s family did to her mother. Even still, she’s right to be angry about her mother’s murder too, and Zuko’s piece of shit family is responsible.

Why the fuck would Katara magically drop to her knees and suck Zuko’s dick? He’s literally a colonizer for over 2/3 of the show. He didn’t just have a passive role, he was an active player in the war and invaded the NWT with the FN as a means to capture Aang and take him back to his daddy, where Aang would have undoubtedly been tortured mercilessly and kept on the brink of death. He assaulted Katara during this and knocked her unconscious, he taunted her with shitty words and undermined her bending ability and threw some racial/classist remarks as well as some misogynistic ones her way.

When he eventually did get his shit together and join the group, he just used her mother’s death against her and Sokka because that’s all he ever did in regards to Katara and Sokka’s mother. He learned how she died, then had Sokka divulge trauma to then use said trauma to try and force Katara to forgive him by persuading her to go on a suicide mission of revenge and bloodlust. He also literally mocked Aang’s culture and genocided people to his face, when his family committed the genocide. Oh, and he also mocked Aang’s forgiveness despite begging on his damn hands and knees for that very forgiveness like 3 episodes prior.

And then at the end of the episode, Zuko states himself that he legit doesn’t understand Katara or what she needs in life. Cuz of course he doesn’t. He isn’t a survivor of genocide, he hasn’t suffered ethnic cleansing, he isn’t oppressed. For fucks sake, his mother isn’t even dead and he gets reunited with her a few years after the canon shows timeline. Everything Zuko loses, he has returned to him. His honor, his right to the throne, his mother.

But tell me again how Katara and Aang are a bad match when they are the only two who will ever truly understand the other

[brownsugar-dreams]

Another Approach To Online Sugaring

Recently I took a break from dating. The dating apps can get exhausting and sometimes you’re just not in a place where you have the physical/emotional energy to get dressed up and go out. I didn’t want the money to stop, so I decided to start camming again but only for online sugar dating(OSD)/girlfriend experience (GFE). It’s been such a success I decided to make a post about it.

When I reactivated my no face cam accounts, I started casually talking to users in my chat rooms. There were a good share of users who just want to chat. If you have an outgoing personality, this is really easy and comes natural. We would talk about all sorts of things from what they do for work/fun, casual interests, kinks. I’d tell them stories, my POVs on pop culture topics, fantasies, made up stuff. At this point I noticed specific users were tipping in the general chat. I focused on those users and made sure to show them the most attention and they continued to tip. They’d often initiate a private session (more $ per min) and we’d continue chatting.

If you’re consistent with signing in at least 1-2x a week, it’s easy to find someone who adores you. I created a Snapchat (SC) profile and advertised it on my cam site as a way for users to connect with me 1:1. Set it up so they have to pay to get the username. Using SC, I posted no face pics with a link to my wishlist/cashapp and sparingly answered messages (mostly messages inquiring about pricing/services never free endless chatting). Later I created a price menu for services offered and shared that from time to time on my story. Once a relationship is established, it’s super easy to straight up ask for money. Since they met you on a paid cam site they already know what’s up so don’t let anyone pretend to be naive or use your time for free.

Overall this has been a flexible way to earn money that is relatively easy and low maintenance. Most of these clients are lonely and desperate for female attention so making each feel special is the key.

Things to Note/Logistics

I personally don’t show my face by having the cam positioned from the neck down. But other no face cam girls have talked about using full or half face masks to conceal their identity. Given the nature of “professionalism” in our fields I can understand a lot of us wanting to preserve our identities. But do what you’re comfy with! I’d suggest no nudity in free chat otherwise users will be less likely to pay for private.

Each cam site is different and pays differently. Most let you adjust your price settings as you like. I researched the sites with the most consistent/quickest payout schedule and reputation by searching Reddit posts and cam girl forums. I picked my favorite sites shared below.

To maximize earnings, I stream multiple sites at a time by opening tabs. Some use OBS software but I haven’t had the time to figure out how to incorporate that yet.

I changed the settings to allow only users with money to participate in chat. This helps reduce hecklers and incels looking for a free show.

Sites have varying popularity during different times/day. Keep that in mind when starting out so that you can develop a schedule. We’re busy professionals irl so making sure to cam on days/nights that have the most earning potential saves a lot of time.

Different clients have different needs so it’s important to be flexible and only take on clients you’d be comfortable with. I have clients that want me to be bossy and mean while others want a more traditional GFE where they’re the caretaker (think MTS “daddy am I your baby” type of thing lol).

Tips to Earn More

Share your wishlist in your bio across platforms. I like to use throne.

Create a links page and share to let your big spenders get notified when you’re online. I use beacons

I use sextpanther to supplement on weeks that are too busy to cam. I love the convenience of texting and it yields good money.

If you want to incorporate toys in your private shows when you’re starting out, use Aliexpress to order cheap toys. Eventually when you gain a consistent following, I suggest making the guys pay for anything they’d like to see you use and of course non sexual gifts for you too!

Keep a list/diary of users to keep track across platforms. Make note of their interests/kinks/imp things they’ve shared so you can refer to it during sessions.

Successful Cam Sites: CB CS

Keep working towards your goals!😘❤️✨

[charliemwrites]

LONG ASK I AM SO FUCKIN SORRY

I always think of people's tumblr accounts/discord servers as actual places, and my mind is very fantasy centered. I've been in a big writing drought and thinking of your tumblr, how tumblr works as a whole with reblogs and asks and interactions, how the discord is set up with a bunch of brain jars really got me thinking.

I see your tumblr as a quaint shop in a small town, mainly full of hand-made books and pages everywhere, with a single shelf a Jars. I combined your discord and your tumblr into one place: your shop. I figured there's so many things going on in both places, so a fitting name would be "Charlie's Trinkets" since it's not just one thing and Trinkets are fun.

Anyway here is a little writing ramble I made, it's also in my "Not A Murder Jar" section of your "Brain Jar Collection".

While resting on your journey you find a quaint shop, simply titled "Charlie's Trinkets". You decide to venture inside, not knowing what is in store for you. However, that is half the fun, isn't it?

"Welcome, traveler!" A voice from somewhere you can't see states. "Come in, feel free to have a look around."

The shop smells like a campfire, in the sense that it smells as if people have come and gone, sharing stories, thoughts, things that have mattered to them. It smells as if you walk in as a stranger, yet leave as a friend. It leaves you curious.

The shop is stacked with multiple things. Now you realize why it is named “Charlie's Trinkets”. There's paper on every table and shelf you look. Some have even been bound into books, you realize. They're quite messily put together and obviously hand-made, as if the writer had no idea these individual pages would become one giant story. Other pages are ripped; intriguing sentences half-finished and leaving you wondering. You soon come to the conclusion (after reading a few pages) that all the books- or even pages of the same book- are not written by the same person. These stories have been shared and tampered, many lines bore into time and time again, erased and rewritten until they fit.

As you look around, you find where the voice came from. In the back corner, a person is writing. They are sideways to you and are instead facing a wall full of shelves. On the shelves are an assortment of jars, varying in shape and size.

"Do you need any help? Are you looking for anything specific or just browsing?" The person asks, looking up from their page. You tell them you are just browsing, and you inquire about the shelf of jars, asking if they are for sale.

"Oh no, they are not for 'sale'." They chuckle. "These jars are no ordinary jars."

They do not explain more, which urges your mind to ask another question: what do you mean?

"Well," she- Charlie- starts, glancing at the shelf as they set their page aside, "these jars are the thoughts of many who have come into my shop. We have been friends for a while, and they wanted a place to keep track of and organize their thoughts. These jars give them a home. While these jars rest here, a person has a copy of their jar. When they have a thought they wish not to lose, they open their jar, speak into it, and their thought is kept safe here, in my shop." you take a cautious step closer, attempting to read the labels on each jar. Some are completely empty, you realize; such as "Soleil jar". Others are filled with thoughts, yet never seem to run out of space.

"You are welcome to open whichever jar you would like, but be cautious about it. It will take you inside the jar, to a different place. There is always a way out. It can be very nerve-wracking for your first time."

You find a jar on the edge of the shelf. It looks newer than the others, taller than it is round, almost touching the shelf above it. You pick it up and read the label "Not A Murder Jar". Charlie watches you with careful eyes the entire time, struggling to find the right words to say.

"You might want to choose a different jar for your first one.."

You shake your head, saying it'll do just fine.

You force open the tightly screwed lid.

Finally, you realize one detail too late:

You Should Have Listened To Charlie.

I hope you had fun reading this, I'm glad I was able to escape the dark grasp that Writing Block had on me by thinking D&D thoughts lol

Have a nice day/night!

WALTZ

I don’t even know how to begin expressing my adoration for this. It’s… it’s like a fanfiction of the community? Of me? (Is that vain? I hope not)

And oh my god it’s so ADORABLE! The brain jars, the shop, the imagery!! I could cry this is so beautiful and sweet and thoughtful. It was the most wonderful thing I could have woken up to after a rough night.

I am constantly blown away and humbled by people like you, that I’ve gotten to interact with and share thoughts and ideas and writing with. I am so lucky and grateful. I’m seriously going to cherish this forever. It means so so much to me 💕 words cannot express just… how much this has blown my mind.

Sincerely, thank you, Waltz.

[dontyoufeelitangel]

BUILD ME UP

Echo - The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A psychology lesson from the medic of the batch turns into a personal experiment. How will Echo react to being your subject?

Tags/Warnings: SFW, mentions of animal testing (nothing graphic), established relationships, kissing, fluff, (I accidentally made Wreck really dumb in the first half, so we’re just going to pretend that’s because he’s tipsy. Sorry wreck!)

Prompt : “Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down? - I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start. So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart.”

A/N: this prompt comes from the bad batch playlist I put together from the song “Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations”. This is not a song fic, feel free to check out the playlist! Also, yes the timeline and character appearances in this chapter are messed up and do not follow the original show, shhh it’s fine, we’re gonna ignore it🤫

.

.

.

You joined the batch as their medic right before the rise of the empire and stuck with them through order 66. While you never officially finished your medic schooling, you were qualified. More than qualified actually. You had saved the boys butts on multiple occasions, and when it came to the mental weight of what they’ve been through, you always knew just what to say.

Over time you naturally became great friends with the boys. Each of them were so unique and they had so much personality. They became your home away from home. You seemed to be closer with one more than the others. Echo. He was -biologically- the reg of the group, but his experience and individuality made him as unique as the rest of the batch. It was also what made you fall for him.

Naturally, the two of you became a thing, nothing official but it was very clear the both of you loved each other.

So here you sat, the dim lights of Cid’s parlor reflecting on your glass. Wrecker and Tech were in a game of sabacc. You sat close, shadowing over Techs shoulder watching him play his hand. Light conversation had started between the three of you. The conversation started with the rules of the game and slowly melted into you talking about your unfinished schooling.

“Well I don’t know if I should trust you on the field anymore doc!” Wrecker snorted. The contagiousness of his laughter put a small smile on your face. You were now grinning at him from behind Tech’s shoulder.

“Trust whatever you want big guy, just don’t expect me to save your ass on the field next time” your words laced with playful sarcasm as you sipped on your drink.

“And hey! What’s stopping me from walking over there and giving away your cards to tech!?” A sound between a laugh and a scoff erupted from you as you set your drink down.

Tech only smiled and watched the interaction before speaking up.

“She’s more qualified than you” Tech nodded, putting a card down. His affirmation drew a smile from your lips.

“See! I love to see the support,” you waved your arms at tech before giving him a friendly pat on Tech’s shoulder.

“And it’s not even just about what I can do on the field- I’m knowledgeable in psychology and chemistry too,” you chest puffed in proudness. Wrecker only gave a playful huff,

“You were educated in psychology?” Tech inquired.

“You’re surprised? It IS a requirement for medic schooling” you adjusted your stool slightly to be in the middle of the two boys rather than behind tech.

“Not necessarily surprised, I’m very aware of your capability. It’s just that -as a clone- I personally didn’t take many psychology classes. My studies were more directed towards computer sciences and database management. Then again, I wasn’t taught to specifically specialize in the medical field.” Tech spoke, you only nodded,

“So what you’re saying is, doc is a smarty” the loudness of Wreckers voice could almost throw you off guard, luckily you’ve spent enough time around him to be used to his volume.

You smiled at the statement,

“Of course” you smiled,

“How about a lesson?” You tilted your head toward Wrecker.

“I’m interested” a short response, but very much expected from tech.

You thought about what piece of information you could tell them. Searching your brain for a piece of knowledge the two of them didn’t know.

“A quick lesson on the tooka-bell experiment” you said,

The boys continued playing while you spoke, still listening to what you were saying. Acknowledging your voice by giving short nods,

“The tooka bell experiment was a conditioning experiment in tookas. About how a bell could get a natural reaction out of a tooka.” You started,

“When a tooka is fed, they salivate-“

“Like slobbering!” Wrecker interrupted.

“Yes,” you smiled,

“Like slobbering” you nodded before continuing to your lesson.

“A scientist would ring a bell every time he fed the experimental tooka. The tooka began associating the bell with receiving food. One day, the scientist accidentally rang the bell without having any tooka food prepared. The tooka began to salivate thinking it was going to be fed.” You finished.

“Ah, I get it. It’s a simple process of contidioning a neutral stimulus to get a response” tech nodded grabbing some cards from a deck that was set out on the table.

“Precisely” you have a curt nod, finishing off your drink.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I get it” Wrecker shook his head.

“It’s unconscious learning through repetition. For example: you and omega get mantell mix after every mission. Mantell mix and the end of a mission are two completely unrelated things. But because it’s become a tradition for you and little Omega, it would feel weird not to get the mantel mix at the end of a mission. Does that help big guy?” you gave him a glance followed along with a smile.

“I guess…” he slowly nodded.

The game of sabacc slowly wrapped up. It was quite late, there was a mission tomorrow and everyone had to get a good nights rest.

The cards were neatly put away and the drinks were discarded as the glasses were set to be cleaned.

You said you goodnights to Tech as you turned to say goodbye to Wrecker”

“Hopefully you ain’t doin’ that to us.” He let out a chuckle,

“Doing what?” Your head tilted.

“Training us subconsciously or whatever, I mean, the only dud who’d fall for it is Echo” this time he gave out a real laugh, one straight from his stomach. He ruffled you hair before walking off.

He was right though, Echo would totally fall for it.

Training was a strong word, but hopefully Echo wouldn’t mind. You had a strong plan made up, you grinned to yourself before walking to your own sleeping quarters.

.

The next day was mission day, something about extracting some goo from rocks or something. You really didn’t remember- or care.

Today also marked the day of your experiment.

You found yourself sitting in the front of the marauder, preparing to go into light speed.

“Hey Echo,” your voice soft and sweet, he was unsuspecting.

He let out a small ‘hmm?’ Before looking at you,

“Could I get a kiss before light speed?” You batted your lashes at him, you leaned your weight on the armrest, pushing yourself toward him.

“Of course” he smiled before kissing you.

The kiss was sweet and soft, much like echo himself. Although it didn’t last long, it was romantic and all that you needed in a kiss.

You smiled at him through your lashes before sitting back in your seat properly and jumping to hyper space.

.

The mission went fine, almost like any other. During the mission Echo had told you he ‘wouldn’t mind getting more kisses from you.’

It’s almost like he could read your mind, because for the next five missions you’d always find him right before hyper space and give him a kiss.

You started off by tapping his shoulder and politely asking for one, to just leaning over to him and giving him the kiss.

He never once missed a kiss, who was he to deny your request?

In fact, he must’ve gotten so used to it. For the next handful of missions or marauder trips, he would initiate the kiss right before hyper space.

That was your plan, because after around ten hyper space jumps, giving you a kiss before hand seemed to come natural to him. You had him right where you wanted it.

.

One afternoon before the batch and you were set to return back to ord mantell, you had called Tech and Wrecker to talk to them in the marauder.

“What is it that you required?” Tech asked, setting down his datapad.

“You boys remember the conversation we had a few months ago? About conditioning?” You spoke, mostly directing your question towards Wrecker.

Tech only have a curt nod and Wrecker grumbled something about ‘totally understanding what you were talking about’.

You gave a smile,

“Right, well, You told me Echo would fall for it, yeah?” You nodded your head, smiling while gesturing to Wrecker.

“I guess I did say that,” wrecker rubbed the back of his head, not fully remembering the previous conversation the three of you had.

Tech, who finally started to understand where this conversation was growing shook his head before speaking,

“You didn’t” he said,

“Oh I did,” you were now grinning ear to ear,

“Before we go into light speed, watch what echo does” you laughed, before walking over to the cockpit of the marauder.

.

You were now buckled into your seat, Tech and Wrecker looking into the cockpit for the interaction about to go down.

“Preparing the jump to hyperspace” you announced, putting your attention to some buttons and levers on the control panel.

You were purposely putting your attention away from echo,

As if on queue, echo pointed his head towards you, his eyes still focused on whatever he had had in his hands.

His lips puckered and ready for a kiss,

He sat like that for about five seconds -which doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you’re sitting there, full duck lips, it feels like an eternity-.

You saw his actions from the corner of your eye, still focused on the control panel. You gave a sly smile, attempting to hold in your own giggles.

Echo blinked a few times before realizing you didn’t kiss him, and you weren’t going to.

Heat rushed to his face as he leaned back into his chair,

Maker he must’ve looked so stupid -not to mention desperate- just sitting there with his lips puckered expecting a kiss from you.

He looked around in embarrassment to make sure nobody was watching, upon looking behind him he found two heads peaking into the cockpit.

Tech must’ve only found this slightly amusing because he only gave a smile,

Wrecker on the other hand, burst out into laughter. The sound of Wreckers laughter had let you know the bit was over, you too started laughing.

Echo was unamused and embarrassed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his face flat, he didn’t find it funny. Your laughter and giggles made him realize that this was your plan all along,

Your giggles died down before you gave him a light pat on the cheek before jumping into hyperspace.

[barbatusart]

Do you have a recommendation for a specific book of your work for folks who showed up for your Bg3 stuff? (Also if you read the parts out of order would that be an issue?)

welcome aboard!!! thank you so much for checking my bg3 stuff out, it's a pleasure to have you

as i said in my other post over here, im predominantly an extreme horror artist! i 100% decline to call myself an eroguro artist because personally i dont find the kind of gore & horror i do particularly erotic, but im super fascinated with the horrors of the body & the darkness of the general human experience, so thats the kind of stuff i tend to make. it isnt the worst most heinous Ever you'll find out there, but im fully aware that it's A Lot, so everything i make with @meanbossart is thoroughly warned for so nobody goes into our body of work unaware & gets a nasty shock.

bg3 in particular goes some pretty dark routes (some bits in a dark urge run even made me kinda reel back and go "jesus"), so id say for people coming in from bg3 your mileage may heavily vary. if torture & really extreme body horror doesnt bother you, you may be OK with SAD SACK (sus.space/sadsack) and its current wip sequel SORTIE (sus.space/sortie), but i would still recommend reading each book's individual content warnings thoroughly before choosing to spend any money. (everything is paywalled to further deter minors.) if you're on the fence about how much horror content is too much for you, or if you're curious about these titles but find the content warnings to be concerning, my DMs on tumblr+twitter and my IMs are always open if you have any questions about particular CWs or even need specific page numbers so you can either skip that bit of gore or be informed enough to approach the page number(s), take a Deep breath, and proceed when youre ready! for these 2 titles in particular, unfortunately they do have a linear story, so to fully grasp what's going on requires reading the books in order. again if it's something youre curious to the point of wanting to try but on the fence about, i am always welcoming of inquiring DMs to help make the experience thrilling + chilling but Not genuinely upsetting.

if you're OK with a little violence and body horror but not as splatterfest as these titles, im currently chipping away at the preliminaries for my giant project LOVOS4017 (lovos4017.the-comic.org) which is a love letter to TNG scifi and 80s cyberpunk anime. im currently on pause with the roughs since last year due to COVID frontline burnout, but ive by no means abandoned it; this IP is my baby that ive been workshopping the show bible for for over a decade & i want to see it through to the end B)

finally if you would like to read our work but want to avoid gore and extreme violence entirely, we do have some stuff that is violence-free! POOPPIX@YAHOO.COM (suscomics.itch.io/pooppix) is a comic with a really bonkers premise but no violence and no visible onscreen poop i promise about finding genuine human connection over unusual shared interests on the internet. ATTACK DOG (suscomics.itch.io/attackdog) is also a short solo comic i did myself about sex, quasi-submission fetish, & the requirements of true love (theres some mild gooey body weirdness but no gore i promise)

overall i thank you for showing interest in what @meanbossart & i do! we tend towards strange & unusual premises and presentations, but i hope that you find something within our body of work that entertains you. if you every have any questions about anything, please please please feel free to DM me at any time; my goal in life is to entertain & provoke thought!

[loreandorder]

The Gift of a Puppy's Love ♡

Femdom Wolfgirl x gn puppy sub (mentions of them wearing panties, though thats it)

cw: petplay with hybrid characters (ears, tails and canine senses/instincts), pussy eating, scent kink, domestic bdsm, power exchange, service, a tiny bit of angst, intimacy and romance

a/n: Hello again critters, I'm back with another little story for you all! This one is a bit more soft and romantic than the last, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless ♡

Please let me know what you think! And feel free to drop into my askbox if you'd like to see me write something specific in the future, I'm happy to take requests 🥰

~ Miss Lore xo

I heard a small shuffle outside my home office door and my tall wolf-like ears perked, swiveling slightly to hear better. The door clicked open quietly and soft warm light filled the room from the nightlight in the bathroom across the hall. A delicate scent I knew almost better than my own reached my sensitive nose and I spun my office chair around to face the door.

The bright light of the computer screen in the dark room burned into my dry eyes as I watched the cursor blinking away at me tauntingly. The clock on the screen read 2:48AM. I sighed raggedly and put my head in my hands, these reports were going to be the end of me.

I had recently been promoted, much to the annoyance of my new and very misogynistic manager, Dan. He had been an absolute prick to me from the moment I started working with him, but he had very quickly realized that he had the power to dump all his shitty tasks and responsibilities onto me too.

There was nothing I could do about it other than grit and bear it. I had worked so damn hard to earn this promotion, ten times harder than I would have had to at any other company, and it was given to me very begrudgingly. I was the only woman in my field at a male dominated company, and now that I had finally got this position I had no intention of giving them a reason to say “I told you so”.

“What are you doing up Puppy? Is everything okay?” I inquired gently but urgently, focusing my senses to search for any sign of danger in the house or signs of distress from the blanket wrapped figure in the doorway. I had tucked them into our large cozy bed hours ago, and it wasn’t normal for them to be up in the night, something had to be wrong.

“You never came to bed, Alpha…” Puppy’s soft voice had a worried tone that instantly set my heart racing with my own worry. I reached out for them instinctively and they came to me without hesitation, crawling into my lap with their legs hanging through the arms of the chair.

I wrapped one arm around them, fitting their body to mine, and tucked Puppy's head down against my chest. I then reached down to make sure the pup was wearing their cozy socks and tucked the edges of the blanket around them securely to keep them warm in the cool office. I ran hot, Puppy ran cold, and I was forever fussing over them with blankets, socks, and sweaters. In the winter my instincts went into overdrive, and I’d spend the whole season obsessively perfecting a nest in our room to keep my sweet Pup warm and safe through the cold months.

“I’m sorry Puppy, Alpha got carried away with work. Did you have a nightmare?” I rumbled comfortingly and stroked their back with my warm hands.

“Nuh uh,” they replied, nuzzling into the crook of my neck where my scent was strongest. Sometimes, I wondered if my scent was like a drug to them, they could never seem to get enough. I wasn’t about to complain though, I loved the way my little pup was always worshiping the sensitive area with nuzzles or their wonderful little mouth. Oh how I loved their plush lips and the wetness of their delectable tongue.

“No? What’s wrong then Pup?” I asked and returned their affections by nuzzling into the top of their head, breathing them in and enjoying the feel of their soft curly hair.

“I missed you!” Puppy whined and sat up to look at me, “and you’re so tired Alpha! That awful man makes you work too much!” Their whine turned into a fiery little growl that made me smile down at them in adoration.

“Don’t worry My ferocious little guard Pup, Alpha is okay. No more worrying, that’s my job.” I brushed their chocolate curls back from their face and cupped their cheeks. To my surprise their face scrunched up in what I guessed was their adorably pathetic attempt at a stern look.

“Alpha needs to relax and get a good sleep! You’re gonna get sick and then I won’t know what to do to make you all better again!” they barked in their sweet little voice.

I gently squeezed their thigh in warning, “I appreciate the concern little Pup, but you need to watch your tone with your Alpha.”

Puppy flushed pink in the low lighting and dropped their chin in deference, but to my surprise they continued to speak, “Please Alpha, please come to bed now. For me? Pleeeease Alpha?” they whined, and as they looked up at me from beneath their beautiful long lashes I knew my little pup had won. My smart little Puppy knew my weaknesses, and they knew exactly when I was in just the right state for them to use them against me.

I sighed and my body sagged, curling around Puppy with exhaustion. I rested my forehead in the crook of their delicate neck and a few tears slipped from my eyes to their skin. Puppy was right. I was pushing too hard, and as strong as I was I would break eventually. When that time came it wouldn’t only be me that suffered, Puppy would suffer too and that was not something I would ever allow to happen.

Puppy wriggled their arms free from my hold and wrapped them around me, whimpering softly. I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to let anymore tears fall, I didn’t want to concern my pup anymore than I already had. It broke my heart to know that they must have been worrying about me for a while now, I thought I had been hiding my stress and exhaustion well. Apparently I hadn’t done good enough. Then again, where would we be a month, even a few weeks, from now when I finally burnt out had Puppy not noticed?

“It’ll be okay Puppy. Let’s go to bed, okay?” I lifted their head from my shoulder and stroked their cheek lovingly before gently helping them to their feet. I took their hand in mine and led Puppy towards our bedroom. My body was tense and achy from all the time spent hunched over my desk recently and I had a feeling that without the help of sheer exhaustion I would be too tense to sleep.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I entered our bedroom. “Puppy? What’s going on?” I looked over to them in confusion. The bed was made and all of our pillows were propped up against the headboard in the middle of the bed, and I could tell that Puppy had been fussing over the perfect placement. The lights in the room were off, but placed around the room were some of my favourite candles from my collection. The light scents of Lavender, chamomile, sage, and a note of cedar wood flowed over me and I let out a content rumble.

“What’s going on in that beautiful little brain of yours Pup?”

Puppy turned pink again in the flickering candlelight and bashfully fiddled with their blanket, “you’ve been working so hard to take care of us Alpha, I-I want to help you relax. I want to make you feel g-good so you have sweet dreams…”

I cocked my head and smiled at my puppy adoringly. They truly were such a special little creature, I was so incredibly lucky to have found them.

“Are you sure Puppy? Just getting to snuggle up with you is more than enough to make me feel good, you know that don’t you?”

“Yes Alpha, I know… but I want to, I really, really want to. Please Alpha, please let me make you feel good. I need it Alpha, please,” they practically whimpered with the desire to serve and care for their Alpha as they pleaded.

I reached out and cupped their face, stroking their cheek lovingly with my thumb, a massage would be quite heavenly right about now. “okay Puppy, I’m all yours,” I leaned in and pressed a slow emotion filled kiss to their soft lips making them whimper with happiness. “Where would you like Alpha to be for your service?”

“O-on the bed please Alpha, I set the pillows up so they would be most comfortable to prop you up, but I’ll adjust them for you if you need!” Puppy dropped their blanket in a pool around their feet in the doorway as they excitedly went around to my side of the bed. I smiled warmly at their enthusiasm, my little Pup was always so eager to please.

Puppy raced around to my side of the bed and brought my attention to the shirt folded neatly on the edge of the bed. “I got your favourite cozy shirt out for you Alpha! Please put it on and get comfortable,” they said happily as they presented the large oversized sleep shirt to me. It was my favourite, a soft old tshirt I had got at a concert years ago. It fell to my mid thighs and turned me into a shapeless rectangle, but it was my most comfortable piece of clothing and I'd be damned if I let the way it made me look keep me from wearing it. I was very appreciative of my thoughtful Puppy for choosing it.

“Thank you darling.” I said as I took in the sight of my cute little puppy standing at the ready with my clothes. They were wearing a pair of adorable green panties with bows on the hips and a tshirt on their petite curvy frame, their hair was an adorable curly mess from which their floppy little ears protruded, and the look of devotion and joy on their face made my heart swell and eased a bit of my tension already.

I slowly began to strip in the flickering candlelight, not taking my eyes off of Puppy. I could see them trembling with excitement as they watched me, but not once did they falter from her position, waiting patiently with their offering. I unbuttoned my blouse and unhooked my bra with a sigh of relief as my breasts and ribs were set free from the cursed contraption. I set my discarded clothes on the end of the bed and began to slide my trousers down my legs.

I raised an eyebrow at them in question, maybe I had been wrong about the massage. What did my little Puppy have in mind? I could feel myself slicken at the mystery. I complied with Puppy’s polite request and proceeded to slide my underwear down over my wide hips to the floor

“Your panties too please, Alpha,” Puppy said politely.

I stepped out of them and towards Puppy, reaching out for my shirt. Puppy passed the shirt off and began to collect their Alpha’s discarded clothing as I slipped the shirt over my head, closing my eyes in pleasure as the soft comforting material encompassed my body. I sat on the end of the bed and watched Puppy tenderly as they sorted my clothing into the proper hampers in our closet, when they returned to me I pulled them into my arms and hugged their small frame. Puppy wiggled happily in my arms, their soft brow tail wagging contentedly as I ran my hands along their back and sides just enjoying the feel of my love in my arms.

I would have been more than content to lay down and continue the snuggle, but apparently Puppy was determined to have their plans come to fruition because after a few moments they pulled back a bit so they could look into my face.

“I could stay in your arms forever Alpha, but if we stay like this too long I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep sitting up, which won’t be a good sleep at all! I want to help Alpha relax so she has a restful sleep and sweet dreams” they pouted slightly.

I chuckled at their adorable determination, and leaned in to rest my forehead against theirs. I smiled softly at them, “alright my Pup.” I pressed a loving kiss to their lips before unwinding myself from them and turning to crawl up the bed. I swished my long, silky golden tail as I went, giving my puppy a teasing glance at my nakedness and smiled mischievously at my pup’s eager whimpers. When I made it to the top of the bed I looked over my shoulder at the small pup and wiggled my butt, widening my stance slightly to give them a better view of my wet slit.

Puppy trembled and whined, “Aaaalpha!”

I chuckled at them, “what is it pup? Isn’t this what my little pet wanted?”

“No! W-well, you know I always want that, but that’s not what I planned for t-tonight… unless that is what you want instead of course Alpha!” Puppy was getting increasingly flustered.

I smiled softly and decided to give the poor little thing a break, I flopped onto my back and sank into the heavenly plushness of the pillows letting out a sigh of contentment. “No Pup, Alpha was just teasing. You look oh so pretty in that shade of pink! Now, what is it you’ve got planned, my sweet pup?”

Puppy briefly hid their face in their hands in embarrassment much to my amusement, before seeming to work up the courage to crawl up onto the bed and settle between my legs. Almost instantly Puppy's hands were absentmindedly trailing upon my skin, touch was a very important connection for the two of us, and whenever we were within arms reach of each other the urge to be in contact with the other's skin was instinctual. Puppy kneeled there between my thighs, looking at me shyly and I waited patiently for them.

“A-are you comfortable Alpha? I can adjust the pillows for you!” they asked enthusiastically.

I smiled and reached out to brush my fingers against theirs, “it’s perfect Pup, I’m so comfy, thank you my good pup.”

Puppy wiggled happily at the praise, their tail thumping lightly against the mattress. “I’m glad! Are you ready Alpha?” their hands began intentionally exploring higher up my thighs pausing to fiddle with the edge of my shirt as they waited for consent.

I nodded, “yes Puppy, Alpha is ready for your sweet service.”

“Thank you Alpha!” Puppy yipped quietly with joy and continued their exploration. They pressed their fingers more firmly into my tense muscles as they slowly pushed my shirt up to my tummy exposing my neatly groomed pubic mound and glistening slit. I watched as their gaze fell upon me, and the need that always filled their eyes when they looked at their Alpha like this made warmth spread throughout my body. So that was their plan then.

“Enjoying the view Puppy?” I asked them with a grin.

“Uh huh!” they replied and their tongue lolled out of their mouth as they panted excitedly. Puppy’s fingers danced across my skin back down towards my cunt and I exhaled with a soft moan as they softly pet the fur there reverently. “My Alpha is so beautiful! Puppy is going to make Alpha feel so good! Yes, yes, yes, she is!” they cooed.

Oh, my Puppy must have really needed this too, I could already tell from the slight change in their speech that they were sinking into that special headspace of theirs at a rapid pace. I was in for a real treat tonight.

Puppy's soft petting turned into sensual caressing of my thighs, hips and pelvis with occasional dips back down to play with my pubic fur. I leaned my head back against the pillows and closed my eyes, sighing with pleasure at the love and affection in their touch, but the heat was building in my core and I could feel even more wetness pooling between my thighs as the tension began to leave my body. I knew my sweet pup wasn’t teasing though, just taking their time in their endeavor to make their Alpha feel good. They were already doing such a good job.

I felt them shift on the bed and then felt a warm breath against my pussy. Puppy nuzzled against my public mound and whimpered, “you smell soooo good Alpha, and you’re so drippy already!” The desire in their sweet voice was almost palpable and I opened my eyes to peer down at them. They nuzzled against me once more before settling down on their belly and looking up at me devoutly from between my thighs.

I held their gaze and reached down to stroke their soft hair, giving them a little scratch behind their floppy ear, “you look so incredible between Alpha’s thighs, you’re such a good little puppy,” I crooned.

Puppy’s eyes glazed over dreamily at my words and their tail wagged happily behind then. They basked in the praise for a moment, then lowered their gaze from mine to look down at my dripping sex hungrily, and then Puppy’s hot little mouth was upon me. I dropped my head back to the pillows and gasped out a moan, my fingers digging into Puppy’s curls at the sudden sensation of their tongue lapping against my folds. Puppy moaned back at me and doubled their efforts, burying their face in my cunt enthusiastically without a single care for the wet mess they were getting all over their face. I knew Puppy loved having their Alpha’s juices smeared all over their skin, my deeply sexual scent would linger on my pup for days and they always wore it proudly. I secretly loved it too, and the thought of it made me gush even more, my hips jerking up against Puppy's face involuntarily.

Puppy flowed with the jerk of my hips, using one hand to stop them from fully dropping again and took advantage of the new angle. They lapped against my entrance before stiffening their tongue and burying it into me as far as they could. They explored with their tongue, looking to get as close to that special spot inside me that they were oh so talented at finding with other parts of their body as well.

I writhed at the feeling of their hot tongue working its magic inside of me, “Gods Puppy, you’re such a good pup!” I panted. My exhausted body yielded to the pleasure my pup was bringing me and melted into the comfort of the bed. Puppy took their time fucking me with their tongue, drawing out my pleasure, their tail wagging happily behind them the entire time. Everything felt so perfect, everything except my throbbing and now neglected clit.

“Puppy,” I eventually all but sobbed as I tugged on Pup's hair, “you’re doing so good, but Alpha needs your mouth somewhere else.”

Puppy withdrew their tongue from my body and whimpered with delight as I tugged on their hair forcing their mouth to my clit instead. Their lips latched on greedily and they began suckling at my clit. My body tightened at the sensation and my back arched as a carnal moan ripped from my throat. Heat was building inside me and I threw my head back, rocking my hips up, grinding desperately against Puppy’s face chasing the orgasm I could feel building quickly inside me.

Puppy moaned into my pussy in response, and when they suddenly slipped two fingers deep inside me it almost stole my breath away. My observant little pup knew I was getting close and they were eager to push their Alpha over the edge into bliss. Puppy curled their fingers inside me rhythmically as they worshiped my clit with their mouth and I could feel the telltale tingling that always spread through my body in warning of an oncoming release.

“Fuck! Good Puppy, you’re so good, you’re gonna make Alpha cum all over that pretty little face,” I praised as pressure built inside me. Puppy immediately upped the ante by increasing the speed and pressure of their fingers while flicking their tongue deliciously against my clit, finally pushing me over the edge.

I moaned euphorically, fingers tightening in Puppy’s hair as I rode their beautiful little face and fingers through my orgasm. When it had finally subsided my body turned to jelly and I released Puppy from my grasp, melting once more into the mattress with half lidded eyes. Puppy slid their fingers from my dripping cunt and crawled up my body, straddling my waist and settling their weight on me like they knew I loved. I looked up into their beautiful eyes that were alight with pride and joy and stroked Puppy’s soft hips lovingly.

“Did I make you feel good, Alpha?” Puppy asked eagerly and I chuckled.

“You did indeed my sweet little Pup, and I made quite the mess of you in the process. Come here,” I reached up to the back of their small neck and pulled their face down to my own, flattening my tongue I licked the side of their face and reveled in the taste of myself on my pup.

Puppy whimpered and wriggled, “A-Alpha!” they squeaked in embarrassment, but from the way they rocked on top of me I could tell they loved it.

“As if you don’t love when your Alpha licks you clean, you silly little thing.” I pulled them into a warm kiss despite their sticky face and with my other hand I forced Puppy's hips to roll against mine, grinning against their lips at the wet cotton that ground against me. Releasing Puppy’s neck I gently cupped them through their panties, Puppy moaned and covered their bright red face in embarrassment as they humped needily against my palm.

“Thank you for taking care of Alpha, my dear Puppy. Tomorrow I’m going to take a sick day and show my Pup just how much their Alpha appreciates then, how does that sound?” I continued to lovingly stroke my fingers against them through their panties, and stared up at my adorably squirmy Pup.

Puppy began to hump even faster against my hand and tummy, “Y-you’re welcome Alpha, thank you for letting me serve you,” they gasped above me as their motions became more frantic, “please, that sounds perfect, I promise I’ll be so good!” they whined when I placed both hands on their hips and stopped her needy movements.

“I know you will Pup,” I lightly smacked their bottom, “Now go clean up and bring me a washcloth too please Puppy.” Puppy’s disappointment at the loss of friction was quickly gone and replaced with a delighted eagerness to serve despite their current predicament. Gods I loved how much my puppy craved any opportunity to serve me, they were so perfect in every way I could think of.

Pup leaned down and nuzzled into my neck before they were gently climbing off me and scurrying to our ensuite bathroom. My eyes quickly dropped shut as I lay there contentedly and listened to the sounds of Puppy washing up. I hadn’t felt this relaxed and utterly blissed out in what felt like forever now, and I was so grateful for my intelligent and loving little Pup. My mind began to drift off towards unconsciousness, but I kept her ears locked onto the sounds of Puppy in the other room. They were quick with their task and were soon enough padding quietly back into the room, and while I registered their arrival it was like my eyelids weighed a tonne and refused to open. Puppy didn’t seem to mind though as I felt them crawl onto the end of the bed followed by the damp warmth of a washcloth between my legs. Puppy took great care in gently wiping my over sensitized skin and down my thighs with the wet cloth and then patted me dry with a second cloth I hadn’t realized they brought.

“Thank you my darling Pup.” I said softly as I felt them retreating, they dropped a kiss on my inner thigh in response. When I heard them return I forced my eyes open and then sat up to help get the bed ready for sleep. Once we had reorganized the pillows and pulled back the blankets the two of us settled in together, me on my back with Puppy laying on my chest, one of their legs hooked over my thigh, blankets tucked cozily around us. As Puppy nuzzled into my chest I stroked their back soothingly and kissed the top of her curly head.

“Goodnight my precious Puppy, Alpha loves you.” I said quietly in their floppy little ear.

I closed her eyes, and with my Puppy held safely in my arms and a warmth in my heart I finally drifted off into a much needed sleep ₊˚⊹♡

Puppy squirmed against me as if trying to get closer to me than was physically possible and placed a kiss on the underside of my jaw, “Night night Alpha, I love you too.”

[gelly-fsh]

Doing that Dr. Who scene but with Jegulus because I remembered I have hands and free will

TW: mentions of torture

___________________/////___________________

When James was suddenly captured while finishing an errand for the Order, he knew he was going to die.

It was a bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless. The Order of the Phoenix didn't do rescue missions, they did not have the enough manpower to even consider it, so even if his friends and family begged Dumbledore on their knees, he knew it would be futile, so now the only thing he could do was to wait for his demise.

It was strange, if he thinks about it. The errand was an insignificant one, he was not supposed to encounter any Death Eaters because he just needed to take some documents to the Ministry, but before he could put a foot in the building, someone stunned him from behind, and then everything went black for a while.

Now that he's awake, confused about how much time has passed, he is trying to make sense of where he was left in. It was clearly a study, but it was pulsating constantly with the dark magic that came off all the cursed objects that were neatly piled in the shelfs beside him. The body bind he was still on didn't let him see much, but he had little time to wonder about anything else as he heard multiple footsteps entering the room.

"Finally, it seems you're awake now" even if he couldn't see him, James recognized the haughty and embarrassingly nasal voice of one if his captors.

"Snivellius, I'm not glad to see you" James replied

"The sentiment is mutual Potter, believe me"

"Lets get this started Severus" a man said, and when he stood in front of James, he could identify him as Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Who are you?" Rodolphus asked

"Go fuck yourself" James replied fiercely. Rodolphus remained unfazed, but when he looked at someone behind James, he felt the hairs of his neck stand in alert, and then he felt it.

"Crucio!"

The pain was blinding. Sirius and even Regulus once told him how it felt to withstand the pain of this unforgivable, how you feel like you have been stabbed and electrocuted in all places at the same time, but no amount of descriptions would have prepared him for the real thing.

It was like that for a while. James refused to answer questions, and the crucioed him, until Rodolphus apparently grew bored of his suffering and just ordered Snape to make him chug down a clear liquid.

"Your name" Rodolphus asked again

"James Potter" he said easily, way too easily, and that when it hit him. Veritaserum.

"Where is Regulus Black now?" Now that question was weird, because Regulus? Why would they inquire specifically about his whereabouts? He is on their side no?

"I haven't the faintest idea" he gritted out, his voice a bit raw from his screaming

"Is that credible?"

"Well, it's true isn't it?" James answered plainly

"Did he leave any objects with you recently?" Snape asked next

"No he didn't" he replied easily again, did Regulus robbed these people or something?

"You're the man he loves no?" Now that question hurted a lot

"No I'm not" saying it now was not easier than saying it a year ago, when the realization was still fresh, but instead of a bleeding cut, James just feels the throbbing pain he has become accostumed between the space of his ribs, constant but familiar.

"He is lying!" Snape snarled, looking at Rodolphus, as if he was trying to wordlessly explain his mistake

"Regulus Black does not, and has never, loved me" James was almost glad for the Veritaserum, as it made all the information come out more easily, his mind unable to keep up with the truths his tongue spilled.

It doesn't mean the echoes of his truth didn't scratch the scab that was slowly covering his heart, leaving the wound bleeding and raw, just the exact same way Regulus left it the night he walked out of his life for good.

"You know I'm not lying, you know I am incapable to do so right now" James doesn't know how wise it is to talk back this much to his captors, but he knew he was getting killed anyways, so he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cower.

"This is some kind of trick then, there is no way"

"There is no trick" James replied

"My information is correct. I know for a fact you are the man who loves Regulus Black" Snape was getting desperate, James could see it in his eyes, but the answer he searched for would not come from James.

"Yes I am, I've never denied it" James said simply, because even after everything, that was one of the only parts James knew he would never change about himself, no matter how hard he tried "But who told you he ever loved me back Snape?" He breathed, and he loved Regulus. He would die soon, loving him still.

"He is Regulus Black" James knew he was getting overworked over this, but this would be the last chance he had to talk about this, so he decided to take it "He doesn't go around falling in love with people. And if you think he would fall so low to be swayed for something like that, you are never getting whatever he took from you back"

"Sir, I assure you he is the perfect bait! If Black finds out he is in danger, he will come to his aid" Snape started to ramble, but James was started to get tired of all this charade.

"Oh, you are but a bloody moron" James sneered "He will not come, you're wasting your time"

"I can assure you Sir, that perhaps he is inside the mansion right now, looking for an opportunity to strike" Snape added

"Well go on and scan the whole bloody mansion then!" James raged "you will find nothing because he is not here"

"Merlin knows where he is right now. But I promise you, he is doing whatever the hell he planned and not giving a single damn about me!" James words flowed out like a stream of water, it flooded his senses, his emotions, he was drowning in the love he had for Regulus that he didnt want to receive or to give back, and everything just felt too much all over again.

"He will not come for me, and I'm fine with that" he sighed, feeling exhausted and defeated, the crucios and the thought of Regulus slowly draining all the fight and bravado he had left

"When you love Regulus, it's like loving the stars themselves! You don't expect a sunset to admire you back" he growled furiously, with hot tears threatening to spill off his eyes "And if I happened to find myself in danger like now, let me tell you Regulus is not stupid enough or sentimental enough-" he needed to take a breath, or a hundred "and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!"

"This has gotten utterly ridiculous. Snape, you will be punished later for waisting my time, but right now let's just put an end to this quickly, ge doesnt know anything and he admitted to being useless" James could see Rodolphus' distaste in his eyes, how they scanned James as if he were a dirty bug "Dolohov, raise him a little, let's finish this quickly"

He was easily manhandled into the correct position so his whole chest was exposed, James didn't even fight it, afraid that if he did they would not let him die peacefully otherwise.

Even with all the mental preparation, James was not ready to die. At that moment he realized how young and truly inexperienced he really was, a pawn in in a war he didn't cause that was deprived of all the things he should have rightfully lived before, all all the things he had still to live but wouldn't be able to anymore.

Even after everything, even while knowing that Regulus' lack of love for him was part of the reason his life was gonna get cut short, James did not had in within himself to regret it, to regret him.

A million years or just one second could pass, and James would never regret loving that boy.

With him mind set and his conscience at peace, he set his chin high and threw a challenging stare at Rodolphus Lestrange, not moving an inch but quickly closing his eyes afterwards.

"Im sorry" he whispered, and he didnt know to who he was apologizing at all.

His last thought would be Regulus smile.

"Avada -" Suddlenly, Rodolphus started to make a gargled sound before it stopped, and James heard a loud thud falling in the carpet that made him open his eyes in pure astonishment.

Before him was Rodolphus, and he was dead.

"What in Salazar's name-" Dolohov started, just to quickly start doing the same frantic noises Rodolphus made before dropping on the floor too. Snape had a terrified expression while he looked behind James, almost like he had seen a ghost for the first time.

"Please, spare me, Re-" Snape couldn't even finish his begging, because suddenly his head was turned in a funny angle before falling on the floor too.

James didn't want to see, even if a part of him felt a sense of vindictive justice over the fact that his captors were all dead, he didnt know who the culprit was, so James just prepared himself to be murdered by a different hand now.

Until he heard a voice

"Hello, Mon Soleil"

Mon Soleil, that was a nickname he hasn't heard in a while, more than a year if he wanted to be more precise. That nickname took him back to happier times, to happier memories, and it inevitably took him back to the boy that was the reason for it. James opened his eyes at last.

"What are you doing here?" James asked, feeling a bit breathless at the sight of Regulus crouched in front of him "You're not supposed to be here"

"You were in danger, so I came" Regulus was raising his hand, seemingly to cup James face, but even if James yearned to feel Regulus touch against his skin, the piercing pain in his heart and his whole body made him flinch away from his hand

"Why would you do that?" James was not understanding anything at the moment, everything was a blurry of emotions and Veritaserum and so so much confusion that he was sure he sounded pathetic. Nonetheless, Regulus' gaze turned into something softer, and to James surprise, something filled with regret.

"You would never do that, at least certainly not for me" James followed, his whole body was trembling between the pain of the curses and the heartbreak. "I was thinking about you before I died, so maybe I did die and youre just here to make afterlife easier" James muttered, trembling, trembling, trembling.

"James, look at me." The Regulus-thats-not-Regulus said, expression pained "It is me. I came here for you, just for you mon Soleil" it was too much, and nothing was making any sense at all

"STOP!" James screamed "don't use that name. He used to call me that. Don't use that name. Don't-"

"Jamie, I'm so sorry" Regulus said desperately "I'm so so sorry, I will answer all of your questions when we are safe, but we need to leave right now, we need to go"

James eyes tried to concentrate on this Regulus' face, on the soft curls he threaded his hands on multiple times, the eyes that he lost himself in, the freckles that marred his porcelain skin, everything he could. He knew he looked crazy, but he was trying to absorb all of Regulus that he missed the year they were apart. Even if common sense told him to not go with him, that there was no way Regulus was actually there, all sense of reason always left him whenever he was near, so he slowly reached to take Regulus extended hand, and when their palms united, James felt complete again after so long of being left half empty.

Regulus took his palm with a softness that felt familiar and foreign at the same time as he slowly rised it to him lips, kissing his knuckles softly with a heartfelt "Im sorry" to accompany it.

"Im going to need more than that" James said, his whole arm burned but his mind was clearing from the panicked fog by the second "but that shall wait, let's go"

They had a lot to talk about, Regulus had a lot to explain, but they had to get out of here first.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

What could i do to help him if my gallifreyan has a hearts attack?

Disclaimer: This strategy is not suitable for humans. Follow the directions as stated by your human medical people: The Resuscitation Council UK - How to do CPR link

🚨 Immediate Actions for a Gallifreyan Hearts Attack

Secure the Scene: First, ensure the environment around you and your Gallifreyan friend is safe. Look out Daleks or any other environmental hazards that could pose additional threats.

Initial Response: Engage with your Gallifreyan friend by asking, 'How are you feeling?' and gently shake their shoulder while inquiring, 'Can you hear me?' This might help gauge their level of consciousness.

Seeking Bystander Assistance: When dealing with a Gallifreyan hearts issue, getting bystander help is key, but remember, a human ambulance won't cut it for their unique biology. If able, ask around for anyone with knowledge of alien medical care to assist, and direct others to help keep the area clear or communicate with specialised medical teams using any advanced tech you have. It’s all about finding the right support while ensuring everyone understands/remains unaware of the patient as a non-human.

Recognising Cardiac Arrest: Check for the two hearts' rhythm and normal breathing patterns. The absence of these signs indicates cardiac arrest, but if there's a pulse and they're breathing, proceed with a systematic ABCDE assessment.

Here are a normal set of life signs for reference.

Respiration Rate (breaths per minute) - 5-10

Supplemental Oxygen (cannula/mask etc. in use?) - No

Temperature (orally) - 15.1-19°C / 59.1-66.3°F

Systolic BP (top figure from blood pressure) - 151-240

Heart rate (individual) - 45-90

Level of consciousness - Alert

CPR Adaptation for Gallifreyans: If you suspect a cardiac arrest:

Perform 5 compressions over the left heart (from the patient's PoV), maintaining a depth of 5-6cm.

Switch and perform 5 compressions over the right heart (from the patient's PoV) with the same depth.

Administer 2 rescue breaths.

Keep this going until they have signs of consciousness or until medical help arrives. If you tire, find someone to swap out with to maintain good quality CPR.

Precordial Thump Strategy: If one heart seems to have stopped and you don't have a defibrillator, deliver two precordial thumps. One should be on the chest over the affected heart, and the other on the back, aligning with the heart. This method is slightly unconventional but might kickstart the heart again in urgent situations.

When Help Arrives: When Gallifreyan or similarly equipped medical responders arrive, provide them with a quick but comprehensive overview of the situation. Your actions and the information you've gathered can be crucial for the next steps in the patient's care.

🤖 Additional Tips

Stay Calm: Your calmness can help keep the Gallifreyan calm.

Telepathic Assistance: If you're skilled in telepathy, offering a soothing mental presence can help stabilise them.

Emergency Kit: Always keep a Gallifreyan medical kit nearby.

🚑 Post-Emergency Care

Once the immediate threat is over, following up with a specialised Gallifreyan medic is vital. Your Gallifreyan might need specific treatments to fully recover and prevent future incidents.

Remember, while these steps provide a general guide, each situation is unique. Always prioritise professional medical advice when available.

Related:

Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System (GASS): Guide for assessing vital signs.

ABCDE Assessment: Guide for quickly assessing and treating a sick Gallifreyan.

Sepsis Emergency Response (SER): Guide for identifying and treating sepsis.

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[alyshiba]

Violet second signet Theories and Facts

So, I've posted this on the Fourth Wing Reddit Sub. Then I felt like resuscitating my tumblr and posting this on here as well, just to see if any of you would like to add to this conversation.

So, ofc spoilers ahead for the entirety of Iron Flame. I also apologize for my bad spelling, vocabulary and grammar, English is not my native lenguage. So feel free to correct any errors, I greatly apreciate it if you do.

As everyone else is I'm going crazy trying to find out what Violet's second signet is, so I'm trying to sum up in one place all of the information about it I could find in the books (easter eggs, foreshadowing, odd stuff etc) and online. If you all want to participate it would abe awsome, maybe we'll crack the code.

What we know as a fact so far:

I'll be quoting the books directly, in my case it's an ebook, so please be warned that the page number might vary

1. What we know about singets and how they relate to the rider:

A rider's signet is "the result of the unique chemistry between rider and dragon and usually say more about the rider than the dragon", this is what professor Kaori tells the class in page 127 of FW (ebook, so might differ) when our beloved Jack Barlowe inquires about Tairn. This is later confirmed also by Sgaeyl in page 233: "A signet is a combination of our power with your own ability to channel. It reflects who you are at the core of your being" (Sgaeyl, FW p. 233). In general we are often reminded that a signet is influenced more by the rider, and by their needs/desires, as Violet herself confirms, again, in page 415 of FW "What had Sgaeyl said about signets? It reflects who you are at the core of your being. It makes sense. Mira is protective. Dain has to know everything. And Xaden…has secrets." So: Mira is protective and her signet is warding, Dain has to know everything so his signet is to read memories, and Xaden has secrets... and gives us shadows.

So What does Violet need in Fourth Wing ? During the entirety of the book Violet need power: the power to defend herself, to survive, to keep herself saddled and so on. She needs power so that she'll survive and won't be seen as the weakest link. Not something specific, just power, strenght, or what you want to call it. She wants to be strong, and she struggles when she's not. And that need manifest in her lightning wielding, or pure power as we later understand. This is a concept I want to focus on, since Violet uses it in this passage of IF (P. 592-594) to figure out Xaden's second signet: " “Signets have to do with who we are at our core and what we need,” I think out loud. If he won’t tell me, then I’ll figure it out my damn self. “You are a master of secrets, hence the shadows.” [...] “But what do you need?” I ponder, ignoring the tense set of his jaw. “You need to question everyone to make your own impressions. You need to be a quick judge of character in order to know who to trust and who not to in order to have run those smuggling missions at Basgiath for years. More than anything, you need control. It’s woven into every aspect of your personality.” “Stop,” he demands. [...] He has to have full control. He has to make snap character judgments. He has to intrinsically know who to trust and who not to. In order for the movement to have been as successful as it was within the walls of Basgiath, he has to know…everything. Xaden’s most pressing need is information. Tairn shifts, angling his body toward Sgaeyl instead of beside her. Oh gods. There’s only one signet riders are killed for having. Fear churns in my stomach and threatens to bring up what little I’ve had to eat today." This here is the explanation of how this process works. The basic, most pressing, need of the character creates the signet.

Fourth Wing, as we said before, is focused on Violet's problem with strenght and being the weakest link = the most powerfull signet maybe ever. Iron Flame is focused on Violet's trust problems, her problem adapting in the entire new situation, her problem with the fear of being caught by the venin, her problem wanting to protect everyone, defeat the bad guys. This is what we are working with in order to pinpoint which second signet she has manifested.

2. Time stopping, or slowing, is NOT a signet.

In the same page of the Sgaeyl quote I mentioned above, Andarna tells us: "Feathertails shouldn't bond because they can accidentaly gift their power to humans. Dragon's can't channel - not really - until we're big, but we're still born with something special." and again, few lines later "I gave my gift to you. Because I'm still a feathertail". So this passage is confirmation enough that Andarna gave Violet the gift of slowing time. We don't know if this gift can be trained.. it's never mentioned in the books, yet. But from IF we know that since Andarna is not a feathertail anymore she no longer has her gift, and therefore we all assumed that Violet could no longer stop time entirely. But is it truly the case? Remember that we know nearly nothing about feathertails, the info we're given through the books are not actually that many. Anyhow, the conversation in that page moves on and keeps confirming that stopping time, is in fact not a signet: - Here Sgaeyl answers the question directly: " “Like a signet?” I ask out loud so Xaden can hear. “No,” Sgaeyl answers. “ " - Here Tairn elaborates: "Bonding too young allows them to give their gift directly, and a rider could easily drain them and burn out. " - And here we have confirmation from Xaden "If leadership knew riders could take her gifts for themselves, rather than depending on their own signets…"

Then they move on and Tairn tells Violet this "there’s no saying how long you’ll have the ability. Most feathertail gifts disappear with maturity when they begin to channel." So basically we don't know how much time will this gift stuck to Violet. Tairn doesn't know, and as readers we are not meant to either. BUT that's why in Iron Flame we have passages in which Violet counts second, heartbeats or in which generally time seems to slow. It's becouse it likely does thanks to Andarna's gift. Not to a second signet.

3. No signet can be used while riders drink the serum, therefore, the visions of Liam are NOT part of a signet

When Violet saw Liam she had been drinking the signet-blocking serum for a while, she was cut off from both the mental bond with her dragons, Xaden, and from her/their power. IF talking to Liam was a consequence of her 2nd signet.. then she would've been able to wield lightning too as well, don't you think?

Page 167 of IF is the first time we're introduced to the serum by Professor Grady, and this is what he has to say about it: "You’ve all been dosed with a particular mixture of herbs that dulls not only your connections but your signet as well As frustrating as it is, we’re actually pretty proud of the concoction, so let us know if you feel any side effects". Then a few pages laters Sawyer points out that they were cut off from bond and signet until they were given the antidote: "Does it bother anyone else that they just took away our bonds? Our signets? And then handed them back like it wasn’t…”". So we know that they cannot wield when the serum, or elixir as they call it, is in their sistem.

The inability to wield and communicate with Tairn is what made Violet realized she's been dosed in the aftermath of being caught, as written in page 359: "Terror expands the pressure in my throat. I can’t reach Tairn or Xaden. Can’t call on my signet or even my knife skills, since my hands are bound. I’m alone and fucking defenseless. Nolon walks in, his steps sluggish, his eyes heavy with sadness. “We just need you to answer a few questions, Violet.” “You drugged me.” My voice cracks. “I trusted you. I’ve always trusted you.”" And we now from Violet's POV that she got contstantly dosed while prisoner of Varrish. This is why the visions of Liam in those passages are just that, hallucinations, and not a signet.

Not to mention that we have this interview in which Rebecca herself sais that it was just an allucination. I'll quote the part here so that you don't have to scroll and search, since it's quite a lenghty interview: "Why did you choose Liam as the one that Violet would hallucinate during her long interrogation by Varrish, when she could have also imagined Mira or Xaden or anyone else she loved was there? Because Liam is the one who protected her. He spent the entire end of his life, from the time he’s placed in another squad, protecting her and being her bodyguard. And naturally, she has this immense guilt. Part of her just floundering in this book and not thinking things through and not being as logical as she is is because she’s gotten someone killed, someone that she deeply cares about. At least she feels like she got him killed. It was Liam’s choice to go into that battle. But in her mind, especially after Sloane accuses her and things like that, she thinks that it’s her fault. So in that moment, you would draw from the person that had kept you safe. And logically, if Xaden had been there, it would have confused readers — is he there, is he not, what’s going on? But you put Liam and the readers know that, OK, she’s hallucinating. Plus, I wanted to see him again, selfishly."

These are the informations we know for certain. As well as, from the same interview, confirmation from Rebecca that Violet's second signet actually manifested sometime during Iron Flame.

And those are also the reason why I think two of the most popular theories I've seen around are in fact wrong.

So, after all of this facts, what we are left with ?

A pretty bullet point. Violet's second signet:

Reflects who she is at the core of her being;

Answers her most pressing need;

It isn't neither time bending or speaking / visualizing the dead;

So, let's analyze the first two points:

Who is Violet at her core? We have the simple answer at page 352 of FW: "the Riders Quadrant stripped away the fear and even the anger about being thrown into this quadrant, and it revealed who I really am. At my core, Dain, I’m a rider. Tairn knew it. Andarna knew it. It’s why they chose me." That doesn't give us many information, doesn't it ? Andarna kinds of does at the of IF in page 688: "I waited six hundred and fifty years to hatch. Waited until your eighteenth summer, when I heard our elders talk of the weakling daughter of their general, the girl forecasted to become the head of the scribes, and I knew. You would have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You would be mine." Violet is supposed to be the best of both worlds, a fierce warrior and the most intelligent scholar. In Fourth Wing we see her struggle to become the first, while in Iron Flame we see her fight for lost knowledge (Amogst other things). She is someone who values honesty, and for the best part of the second book she is either miserable becouse she's keeping secrets from her friends, or enraged becouse secrets are kept from her. She wants to protect everyone, including those who had beed her enemies literally since the day before, or innocent strangers. And doesn't esitate to put herself at risk to archieve that. Therefore as many before suggested there's a duality in her that has a lot to do with her signets: there's the warrior, the part that bonded with Tairn, that needs power, strenght. And wields lighning. And then there's the scholar. The one that needs to see the bigger picture, to have all of the informations. These parts are then unified by Violet's need to use both to protect and fix (people and, more generically, the world).

What is Violet's, unanswered, most pressing need? We already dealt with her struggle for strenght in Fourth Wing which resoulted in her lightning signet. In the second book we're met with more pressing needs: Violet needs informations (in general, about everything, I mean, she just found out that everything she knew was false), but she also needs for everyone to stop lying to her, she needs to build back her trust towards a lot of people (Dain, Xaden, her mother.. these are just the first that come to mind), to know the extent of Xaden's smugglery, how to power the wards, to protect, how to defeat the Venin.. and so on. Are you already seeing the pattern ? She needs to understand, and to do it quickly becouse there's no time.

There's another point I'd like to analyze, and this has to do with the writing of the books. I noticed how Rebecca likes to make Violet struggle by exagerating her wants or her needs: as I said about a thousand times, in Fourth Wing, Violet needs to be strong, to survive. So Rebecca gives her a signet that is a plain weapon. And the strongest of her generation at that (if not ever). And right after the signet manifested, Violet immediately strarts to struggle because she knows that from that moment on she's a weapon, her signet kills on strike. In Iron Flame her needs shifts, so I can totally see how, by the same logic, she will make Violet struggle with a signet that exagerates the needs that we pinpointed above.

So ? After all of this jibber jabber, what the hell is her signet ?

Distance Wielding: It does not answer to any of her needs, and that is a point that also Xaden makes, when his second signet is revealed: " “Are you a distance wielder?” I’ve only read about two riders in all of history who could cross hundreds of miles in a single step. “There hasn’t been a distance wielder in centuries, and don’t you think if I was one, I would have spent every night in your bed?” " that's about all of the confirmation we need. Aside from the fact that Tairn and Sgaeyl wouldn't be affected by this signet, and would in fact have to fly anyways, we would have had instances where Violet would just be in one place, and immeadiately after another, very far away. She would've use it during the heist, for example, or when she faced the Venin when they were at Tecarus's or, since signet manifest (or strenghten) in moments of high emotions, when her mother was dieing and she was held back. It makes more sense with Aaric's character. Even though, I have a feeling we already have a kind of distance wielder: " “I’m fine. I promise. You guys have a great time.” I force a smile. “I’ll let you know if I need your help burying a body later.” Ridoc sputters into a cough, and Sawyer pounds him on the back. “I think she might mean you,” Rhiannon says as she gives Xaden an arch look. “I’m certain she does.” “Let’s go,” Sawyer says, leading the three of them out of the doorway. “I’ll do it, too,” Rhiannon says over her shoulder. “I’ve never moved anything as big as you, but I bet my signet could put you in the ground without even disturbing the dirt if I’m pissed enough.” She shoots a look at him before walking down the hallway" Doesn't that sound a little to much like distance wielding ? I know that Rhiannon moves things (or people, just saying) and not herself but... that's an odd thing to throw there Rebecca.

Siphon: The main argument that people make to back up this theory is that some secondary character's signets seems to get more powerfull in passages of the book when Violet is nearby. The moments that immediately comes to mind are: Mira shielding at Tecaru's palace and Rhiannon pulling a dagger through a wall when Violet is first interrogated in her room. I personally don't buy into this theory, because one it also doesn't answer any of the pressing need Violet has, and second we have some evidence (at least I interpret it that way) against this theory. First we have the opening quote of chapter 53 of IF "The art of imbuing comes naturally to only a handful of signets" in which we're met with the only second confirmed siphon so far: Sloane. This sentence I believe serves to justify the fact that Violet can Imbue the alloy orbs she's given without being a siphon, then we have the first description of Sloane siphoning: "I claw at Sloane’s grip, but the harder I fight, the weaker I feel, and the insufferable heat of my power lessens as Sloane starts to scream, letting me fall to the ground" here we see that Sloane is touching Violet while siphoning. And the second time she did, at the end of the battle: " “You can’t imbue something this big in an instant. Not without hundreds of riders, which we don’t have. If you want to save your friends, you’ll do this!” she shouts at Sloane, her fingers wrapped around the firstyear’s wrist as she drags her to the wardstone. [...] Mom nods, picking up Sloane’s left hand and putting it on the lowest circle of the massive rune carved into the stone [...] “Mom!” My voice cracks as she laces her fingers with Sloane’s. [...] She falls to her knees but doesn’t let go of Sloane." still the siphon is touching both Lillith AND the wardstone in order to make her power work. We can safely say that in order to siphon the rider needs to touch the object, or person, that they need to siphon power to or from. There is only one case in which Violet is touching someone who is experiencing an heightening singet, and that's Mira. But Brennan was too, AND they were in a certain-death situation so we can attribute this event to Mira developing her signet on her own. So we can safely say that the odds are not in favor of this signet (Rihannon wasn't being touched, she was in another room). But most importantly every time we've been talked about siphons it was always in a matter or transfering some power or draining it (Sloane, Naolin...), we've never shown someone "charging" (for lack of a better word) another signet.

Mending: I've also read theories that say that Violet is some sort of mender, like magic mender or something, where basically she will mend Venin, or the magic of world she lives in. This simply has nothing to back the theory up.

At last there's the one I think that's it. I'll start with some quotes directly from IF:

P. 692 (when Lillith's vital force is being siphoned in the wardstone): "I drag my gaze to hers, but I’m not here. Not really. I’m dying on the battlefield, the last of my strength fading, burning, consuming my body. But it will be worth it to save the one I love. Violet." This is most definetly NOT Violet's POV, don't you think ?

" “And you won’t do it for something as trite as power or as easily satiable as greed,” he promises in a whisper, “but for the most illogical of mortal emotions— love. Or you’ll die.” He shrugs. “You both will.” " This sounds a lot like Xaden's own fears to me, and what ended up happening.

The first one is the most direct: why would we get a random POV shift in the middle of a very dramatic and important scene? It never happened in the series before, it's not an ability riders have. This is such a random, violent (lol) change of POV that there's no way it has nothing to do with signets.

Then there's the dreams, we know Violet thinks she's the protagonist, becouse it's her POV, but the Sage never adresses her with a name (but he doesn't know it, fine, i'll give you that) but neither with she/her pronouns. He calls her rider, or avoids calling her at all. So what if they are not Violet's nightmares, and what if the Sage realized that too?

That would require Violet being inside someone's head, and that is what I think her signet is. She's some sort of inntinnsic.

I think her journey in Iron Flame ends up giving her the power to momentarily see into someone's conciousness (not just see with another person's eyes). Not read their mind (like the inntinnsic we see in FW), or intentions (like Xaden), more like Dain but live, not recorded. That would also explain why her nightmares ends up becoming not hers, but Xaden's reality. There's no way that POV shift means nothing.

[shrimplymoray]

Hi

Can i request a Deimos x reader , where Deimos suprise the reader for his/her/their Birthday please?

( Since my Birthday is soon and i simp for Deimos, i would aprecciate if you do this TwT)

I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, I'VE HAD SOME TROUBLES WITH LIFE AND GOT STUCK ON THE PREVIOUS REQUEST!! Hopefully this is still on time, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! *Note: since u didn't specify, imma write it as GN but feel free to request again if u want other pronouns or something more specific!

Deimos x Reader - Birthday Surprise!

It was no surprise to the average Status Quo member that Deimos was acting odd. He was especially chatty about his oh so lovely partner, and how he was excited to show them something, and yet he never did so to them, face to face. To the less close to him, this was odd at its finest. I mean, Deimos? Not dropping whatever he wanted to share you the second you appeared? Is he going clinically insane? But it only took a couple days for him to drag everyone into his big plan. Your birthday was coming up. And he basically thought it would be so fucking funny to pull a super duper surprise on you and see how you reacted to it. It was no surprise that the only thing he seemed to love at par with you yourself was... well, your reactions, of course. Although it was noticeable him shifting focus a bit, and his "peculiar" inquires about your tastes and... in general, all you liked and disliked, you knew very well that man could not focus on only one thing at a time, so you pushed the thought to the back of your head, not even realizing the dates passing. It took only but you to open your eyes after being poked awake, on a day you forgotten how special it was, for the big toothy grin of your boyfriend to meet you. "Mornin' cutie." His voice showed an excitement that was... suspicious. "Hey... Dei? Why did ya wake me up... What hour even is it?" "Don't worry bout the details. I have something to show ya." As you sat down and blinked the sleep out of yourself, you were met with what Deimos was holding. "Breakfast in Bed? Are you trying to smoothern me up for something, bae?" The teasing in your tone didn't go unnoticed, as he chuckled before replying "Maybe~ you'll have to wait and see~" It took you to finish your breakfast and chat with Deimos to realize how quiet everything was. For Dei to be awake, it would usually mean Sanford was also awake, and he wasn't exactly the quiet type of guy... "... So what hours is it again?" " Uhh... An hour? Anyway, why don't ya stretch those legs of ya, and get some of ya pretty lil style up so we can get ya day started?" He was... getting more and more suspicious by the minute at this point, but it was honestly kinda fun to follow Deimos on his shenanigans, and since no one was dead yet (you hoped), why not indulge him a bit? You pushed him out to change, and when you opened the door... "I'm ready- Dei what the fuck?" Wherever the hell he got the blindfold, it made you raise an eyebrow. "Well... It's a very special day, and I think it deserves a very special surprise? C'mon, baby~" His attempt at puppy eyes didn't usually work, but... maybe it was the sleep still in your body, but he looked so damn cute, you sighed. "Just this time... And I want an I Owe You after this..." "fine by me!" he tied the blindfold, taking care to not mess your hair too much, and started guiding you around. As you walked, you heard whispers, and smelled a familiar scent. He put you sitting in a chair and, after a bit of tension in the silence, the blindfold was undone to be met with... a giant cake? wait... "... DEIMOS? YOU DID NOT." "Actually he managed to convince me to do it, chucklehead." San burst from behind the monstrosity with his loud as a boom voice and laughter. It took a bit for you to process it, and you kept staring from Deimos to the cake and back at Deimos. "Wait... are ya thinking i did just this? Ya so cute~ After we eat some of San's Cake, ya have a mission in the base." "A... Mission?" "Find all of the stuff i hid for ya~ Good luck cutie~!" He didn't give you much time to process the information, before you were yelling his name again. And there it was. His favorite stuff in the world: the way you reacted. I hope this is good, again, so sorry for being late!! Hope you have/had/will have a great Birthday!!

[ani-antiquities]

The Melancholic Woman: Eva Hesse, Ennead (1965), and Trauma, De-strung

(source: ICA Boston)

I will open this essay with a line from art historian, Anne M. Wagner’s essay, Another Hesse, on her journal October, vol. 69 – wherein she writes of our subject, American sculptor Eva Hesse:

Hesse’s self-scrutiny, we learn once again, is a means of coping with “environment” – with the inheritance of the past. But it is also the measure – even the proud badge – of her “difference”, the difference, we remember, of being an artist. (p. 131)

Anne M. Wagner’s essay on Eva Hesse will be one of the main sources of this paper.

Here, we will be able to trace Eva Hesse’s art and its asymbolia to the artist’s melancholia and her journey of sublimation and working through. We will also thereby arrive at more questions to ponder Hesse’s life, and inquire about the connections among art, melancholia, and the semiotic – and possibly ponder a perspective that ties the end-goal of these Kristevan concepts together.

(Before I go on, I just wanna say that this essay may draw on similarities EVA HESSE: POST-MINIMALISM INTO SUBLIME, by Robert Pincus-Witten. I wrote this specific essay more than a year ago for my Cultural, Literary, and Critical Theory class, and I only found this essay just today, as I am writing and doing more research for this piece. LOL. However, I would like to justify that the content of my essay is to draw connections between Hesse’s art and Kristeva’s psychoanalytic theory. I did enjoy Witten’s essay, though!)

(Source: pbs.org)

Eva Hesse

At the height of Nazi Germany, Hesse’s family fled to America for protection from religious persecution, but it was not long until sanctuary proved to be fickle as well, in the land of the free. Due to trauma implicated by the Second World War that vehemently caused the deaths of Hesse’s extended family, the serious circumstances of (Eva Hesse’s mother) Ruth Marcus House’s bipolar disorder worsened. These events dominoed to Wilhelm Hesse’s divorce from Ruth Marcus, and Ruth’s suicide. Adding salt to the wound, Wilhelm would marry a woman named Eva. Upon the new marriage, the young girl and her step-mother would share the same name.

Identity crisis aggravated young Eva’s trauma – from the persecution of family whose faces she had never known, to losing her to suicidal mother at ten. It seemed like grief was her very being.

Graduating from Yale, she exhibited works whose style displayed that of Abstract Expressionism and paved the way for Minimalism.

Art historians speculate how these traumas were sublimated into her art. Her self-portraits showcase distorted images of faces and figures. They are almost like a child’s attempt at creating a figure painting, except that their tone is so somber that only an adult can express such a feeling.

(Untitled, 1965, oil on canvas: From: mutualart.com)

However, the most intriguing work of Hesse does not come from two-dimensions – but three. This includes Hesse’s sculpture, Ennead (1965).

(Ennead, 1965, oil on canvas. From: icaboston.org)

Eva Hesse’s Ennead (1965)

All that there is to the piece: acrylic, paper mache, some resin-coated strings, plywood, some plastic, and a title possibly referencing the Egyptian pantheon.

The Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, describes the artwork as such:

The orderly, formulaic application of the threads devolves into an increasingly chaotic composition as they accumulate and tangle toward the floor. A few strands are affixed to the adjacent wall, cordoning off a wedge of space that becomes part of the sculpture itself. This gesture also draws the viewer’s attention to the corner of the gallery, activating this normally overlooked area. Additional material hangs to touch the floor, thus uniting three planes. “Ennead” means a group of nine, in this case referring to the nine points from which the strings extend.

How can we interpret art whose surface presence is devoid of any points from its meaning? Baroque art can be so interpreted by its gargantuan number of details that fit on a four-cornered canvas. Poetry can be dissected among its metaphors, language, and enjambments. How can we possibly describe a sculpture so bare of material and overly abstract in its form? Was it meant to be this way – stripped down and bare?

Asymbolia and Melancholia

Many of Hesse’s works portray a distinct use of asymbolia, and the stimulation of asymbolia to its audience.

It is impossible to speak of Ennead without speaking about Hesse – primarily because Hesse and her art are one. Hesse even says: “My life and art have not been separated. They have been together.”

Ennead is no exception – however, with absolutely little to no “initial and final'' interpretation of meaning when you see the sculpture. What can we then say about Eva Hesse through the piece? Even art historians themselves, up to this day, consider Ennead to be an enigma on its own – its minimalism minimizes itself, to the point of devoiding any meaning, making us doubt if there is any at all.

First, we must discuss the asymbolia in Ennead – the art itself. Though by instinct and intuition, the substance of Ennead is uninhabited on its own, I would like to shed a few pointers on the piece and its asymbolia through its deliberate absurdity.

The strings were meant to be orderly at first, until its tail-end, wherein Hesse describes them as a jungle. Hesse even took in the effort to dye the strings to possibly add more aesthetic depth to them. Hesse describes the process of this piece in one of her journals.

The further it went toward the ground, the more chaotic it got; the further you got from the structure, the more it varied. I've always opposed content to form or just form to form. (Quoted in L. R. Lippard, op. cit., p. 62)

However, even when Hesse describes her decision to irrationalize the hinds of the strings, the art still talks gravel to the path towards the most inane question: What does it mean?

So, we shall secondly address the audience’s confusion, that stems from the asymbolia of the audience themselves – the very inability to attach any familiarity or meaning to the symbols the art presents, because of the very fact that it lacks anything.

The only thing that makes sense of Hesse’s art is nonsense – the asymbolia found in Hesse’s art, that stems from dissecting, stripping down, and representing her trauma. Hesse states in one of her interviews: “There is no abstract art. You must always start with something… A painter paints to unload himself of feelings and vision.”

Must her own “something” be from her depression – from the trauma of losing her mother, identity, and other factors throughout?

We take the theory behind this inquiry from Julia Kristeva’s illustration of asymbolia and melancholia in her book, Black Sun – “The negation of that fundamental loss opens up the realm of signs for us, but the mourning is often incomplete. Melancholia then ends up in asymbolia, in loss of meaning…” (p.42).

Hence, to study the bare Ennead is to study Hesse’s bare melancholia.

We may never have the opportunity to bear witness to Hesse’s trauma, as only she and herself can live it, so we turn to her journals,

Throughout her life, Hesse seems to be on good terms with working through with her depression, as she sublimates it with her art – if it means going against the conventions imposed on her by four-cornered dimensions of papers and canvases, and the one-platform norm of past sculptures (Ennead takes up two adjacent walls, and thereby two dimensions).

Asymbolia and the neglect of the pre-conceived semiotic can be seen in her journals – which instead of letters and intelligible words, consist of drawings that penetrate any dividers and lines.

Kristeva furthermore explains this psychoanalytic mechanism as she illustrates the control of the preverbal in aesthetic creation: “When the struggle between imaginary creation (art, literature) and depression is carried out precisely on that frontier of the symbolic and the biological we see indeed that the narrative or the argument is ruled by primary processes” (p.65) – explaining the subnormality of Hesse’s art and entries, and how the manifestations of obscurity stem from the mere struggle of Hesse’s melancholia.

(Figure 3: Hesse’s journal. From: sugarcandymtn.com)

Other than these, her excerpts write of her own feelings of depression and anxiety: “I must write, my sanity is involved. I cry and cry, the pages are wet. I have no one, to go to and the edge of hysteria and insanity is not far apart” (October 19, 1964).

Anne M. Wagner writes: “Anyone who wants to make a serious contribution to remembering Hesse will likewise have to speak about a wound. For what is striking about Hesse’s art is its utter inwardness, with artistic languages of the day: her imagery and effects are not learned by rote, only to be parroted back more or less unchanged” (p. 159)

With this: Must her melancholia still be the root of her asymbolic art? Or was this art a testament to her ability to self-scrutinize all along? Furthermore, will there be anything to self-scrutinize when there is no trauma?

Conclusion: The Futile Point of Interpretation

Hesse intended her work to be autobiographical, but never understood – and thus reflecting the paradox of identity: to know, but never understand. Even her journals were not meant for the purpose of understanding: “Hesse’s journals and their users have meant that it is no longer possible for viewers “not to know the artist” – or at least, not to feel they know her, and to prepare themselves accordingly when looking at her art.”

Yet, even when we have read Hesse’s journals, watched documentaries, and studied countless journals from art historians – the impossibility to fully understand still looms over her audience. So then we ask the question: What should we feel to know of Hesse? The illness caused by both personal and socio-economic circumstances of her time? Must her works be cursed with the fallacy of perpetually being tied to her trauma.

On Dostoevsky, Kristeva writes: “Works of art thus lead us to establish relations with ourselves and others that are less destructive, more soothing.” Hesse’s artifacts are therefore not records of her mania, but documentations of her survival from it. Her illness, therefore, is not what should be reflected of her life – but her sisyphean triumph over it.

Maybe it is for the better – as the point of art itself is to sublimate the traumatic aggression of the artist, and (like a monster) to never let it out of the cage of the canvas. Kristeva can even attest to this, saying: “Art seems to point to a few devices that bypass complacency and, without simply turning mourning into mania, secure for the artist the connoisseur a sublimatory hold over the lost Thing” (p. 97)

Hesse did this concealment well, so much so that it is said the artist herself might not have realized this. As Wagner would write: “If Hesse’s life did enter her art, it did so by a process that Hesse herself was in a position to describe. We would be looking for ways (Hesse’s unconscious) repeatedly configured. I think such imagery exists in Hesse’s art, and I take it to concern the artist’s feelings toward her mother above all” (p. 165) So much so, that even daring to question the trauma behind Hesse’s art, we do not only turn a blind eye to the artist herself, but arrive at a futile destination when we do: “Yet, in asking them [questions on Hesse’s art] we risk losing sight of the workings of Hesse’s unconscious – a notion that, after all, was the motivating impulse of this discussion. But the artist and her unconscious are not far away.” (p. 173)

Conclusion

I will close with another one of Wagner’s concluding lines:

“To claim that Hesse’s art aims to remember and express a common human quality or experience is not the same as attributing to it some universal force or purpose. It gives its own account of that experience.” (p. 186)

This aim of art is reminiscent to how beauty sublimates melancholia in the form of art, much like giving its own account of an experience. Kristeva writes:

“Beauty emerges as the admirable face of loss, transforming it in order to make it live. Melancholia to the point of becoming interested in the life of signs, beauty may also grab hold of us to bear witness for someone who grandly discovered the royal way through which humanity transcends the grief of being apart.”

(p. 100)

Hesse’s journey as an artist is proof that asymbolia – another result of melancholia – paves the way into sublimation. Art is therefore not rooted in the melancholic, its her way of forging a path deeper underneath it. Art is agency from the trial of inner-disagency. Art is therefore the artist’s most individual and subjective struggle, not of her depression, but one of working through. Precisely through this art, we unlock the beauty sculpted from the marble of melancholia. Hesse and Ennead are just among the myriad of melancholic beauty in the realm of art.

SOURCES

Kristeva Julia. Black Sun : Depression and Melancholia. Columbia University Press 1989. https://archive.org/details/blacksun00juli. Accessed 27 Feb. 2023.

Artincontext. “Eva Hesse - The Brief Life and Incredible Works of Eva Hesse the Artist.” Artincontext.org, 4 Apr. 2022, https://artincontext.org/eva-hesse/.

Branaman, Bianca. “Love - Eva Hesse.” Sugar Candy Mountain, Sugar Candy Mountain, 4 Sept. 2018, https://sugarcandymtn.com/blogs/the-brand/love-eva-hesse.

“Ennead.” EVA HESSE, https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-315751.

“Ennead.” Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, https://www.icaboston.org/art/eva-hesse/ennead.

Evemy, Benjamin Blake, et al. “Auctions, Exhibitions & Analysis for +500K Artists.” MutualArt, MutualArt, 17 Feb. 2023, https://www.mutualart.com/.

“The Sickness of Being Disallowed: Premonition and Insight in the 'Artist's Sketchbook'.” O A R, https://www.oarplatform.com/sickness-disallowed-premonition-insight-artists-sketchbook/.