#but they’re too elitist for that

[faerie-fang]

lots of thoughts lately about fantasy au archer geto,,,,

[ladygata]

People who think they are intellectuals for hating on how others enjoy media (shipping etc) are so funny. Like. Relax and have fun, amiga.

[brunetterightsactivist]

People on tiktok will be like “things I did to heal my mental health” and it’ll say a bunch shit like eat healthy/exercise which is like fine ok sure and then they say “cut out caffeine/alcohol/psychoactive substances” and it’s like yeah ok that makes sense and then 5 seconds later they tell you to start micro-dosing on shrooms and lsd. I thought we just said we were avoiding psychoactive substances?

[whitehartlane]

interacted with the first normal bayern fan i’ve met in my life just now (my landlady’s grandkid who is 4 LMAO)

[larrysblooming]

i’m honestly surprised hshq even indicated the end of tour but i’m not surprised that the sale is literally tomorrow and we don’t even have any info about it 💀💀💀

[astrobydalia]

September Observations

This post has a TW I do not allow the repost on any others platform

© astrobydalia

Something I forgot to mention in this post about 8th house synastry!! I've noticed for some reason this overlay tends to manifest more positively when the house person already has 8th house placements in their natal chart (not a guarantee tho). I feel like its because this makes the house person be more naturally in their power and the planet person no longer feels like they can have control over the house person. In these cases instead of envy the planet person feels admiration and "positive" obsession over the house person like "Im obsessed with you, queen!🥰​😍​🤩​" kinda vibe

If Libra Moons didn’t have the ability to detach fast they could easily pass as water moons 100%. They are such hopeless romantics and love having someone to love be that friends or partners. And yes they can be codependent but only to an extent imo. I’ve seen Libra Moons actually detach surprisingly fast specially if they feel like you don’t match their energy

Im sorry but Libra Suns are not people you can count on imo. They have this very elitist/opportunistic mindset when it comes to people. They treat people based on some kind of unspoken social hierarchy they have in their minds like how successful or intelligent or interesting you appear to be for example. They'll be loyal for as long as they see benefit from associating themselves with you, otherwise they'll be distant, elusive and flighty af. Socially they appear to be super chill but they aren’t like at all, they’re very passive-aggressive and extremely judgmental of others

If you have Venusian MC/10th house (Libra or Taurus MC/10th or Venus in the 10th house), I've noticed people care what you think of them and really feel the need to make a good impression on you, specially the sex you're attracted to romantically. This placement makes people feel like your love and affection is a privilege to have, that’s why a lot of trophy wives have venusian 10th house/MC

Jupiterians (Pisces/Sagittarius but specially Sagittarius placements) are just the best people to be around tbh. Even when they have other toxic placements/energies in their charts, I’ve noticed they are ultimately all about the ✨vibes✨. They detach from negativity quite fast and avoid getting too deep into drama and controversy cause really all they want is to chill and have fun. The “no worries, bro” kinda people. The negative side of this tho is they tend to turn a blind eye when they get called out on their own issues and/or have a tendency to be dismissive when it’s time to take things seriously

^^^You’d say Venusians relate to this peaceful description too but tbh I didn’t include them cause Venusians tend to have a lot of repressed shit and are secretly all about drama (but watching it go down from afar tho)

I’ve noticed water mercury tend to be more diplomatic and charming with their words, the way they speak about things tends to be more soothing yet nebulous/confusing/cryptic. However earth mercuries are more direct and critical which makes them more prone to openly talking shit LMAO

There's a lot of posts victimizing and romanticizing Lilith in the 1st house/conjunct the ASC but I've seen this placement a lot in bullies and genuinely fraudulent people?? I've seen Lilith energy is commonly prominent in the charts of criminals too. Like​ idk why people act like the hate Lilith gets is ALWAYS unjustified 💀 They can truly be really dark and shady individuals that’s literally what Lilith signifies (this does not apply to everyone of courseeeeee)

Furthermore, I'm sorry to say this but prominent Lilith natives have a habit of living too much in the victim mindset and constantly make everyone else the problem as a way to justify their shitty behaviors

What I’ve noticed with Lilith natives who are not sketchy people (so just normal decent individuals) is that they have huge self-destructive and self-derogatory tendencies. They tend to become very cynical of the world, lose hope in their own value and humiliate themselves behaving in ways that are rebellious to them but make other people think the native has no self-respect

Libra/7th house Lilith tend to assume the worst in others. Envy placement. They struggle finding genuine and healthy relationships

I've noticed MC ruler in the 12th house is common in the charts of sex workers since 12th house is related to bed pleasures, secret affairs, etc

The sign that actually behaves like a child irl is Gemini. That’s why I've noticed Gemini placements always want to be the 'cool and fun parent' just like Phil Dunphy

TW: mentions of c**** abuse and s******.

I've noticed Cancer energy (Leo too but mostly cancer) is very common in the charts of p*dos, gr**mers and s*xual predators. No placement will determine someone being this way!!!

Chiron in the 1st house/conjunct the ASC/Harshly aspecting chart ruler is common in the charts of people who have or have tried to commit s******

End of TW

An underrated god complex indicator is Sun-Mercury conjunction. I can't stress enough how much these people's ego revolve around their intellect. Their entire personality to them is being the smartest person in the room

When it comes to pride and ego (Sun) fixed and mutable suns are the most likely to have a superiority complex

Mutable Suns take the most pride on their own knowledge and judgment, deeply believe they know better or have most if not all the answers. They have a tendency to often dismiss, correct or contradict others

Fixed Suns take pride in their own ‘essence’ if that make sense. They LOVE the idea of being special and irreplaceable. Feeling like there’s something intrinsically unique about them

Cardinal Suns are okay tbh. They can have other negatives but when it comes to ego theirs is usually pretty balanced I noticed. They usually take pride in their ability to level-up and improve themselves which often makes them rather competitive or in extreme cases have this heavily predatory mindset when it comes to what they want

This will not be accurate for everyone of course but when it comes to future children if you have Water/Earth moon you are most likely to have girls whereas if you have Air/Fire moon you're more most likely to have boys

Air Venus people are the most open-minded when it comes to taste in general. I've noticed they're the type to enjoy almost every music and movie genre, they can appreciate different aesthetics.... They're also the most likely to date outside their race I've seen cause they can really find beauty in all sort of features as long as it looks overall good/attractive to them. It's not that they don't have preferences, but they're type be open to being impressed and mentally stimulated

EARTH and Fire Venus people are the most selective when it comes to their taste. They know exactly what they want and like. In the case of earth Venus this can be to the point of strong reluctance to try new things. Fire Venus appear open minded cause they have this attitude of trying everything once but the usually have a very hard-set type of things they will actually commit to

Water Venus people aren't that open about their tastes. They hide or repress them cause they really tend to be into obscure or hidden stuff. If you ask them what they like, they'll give you an evasive and generic answer, specially if it's in the context of small talk

I've noticed Capricorn and Scorpio Moons have an innate understanding of the uglier sides of human nature which is what makes them pretty cynical (scorpio) and pessimistic (cap). They are hyper-aware of how most people can be bought and corrupted. This makes them AMAZING business people tho.

Aries ASC natives embody the active, wild and spontaneous stereotype more than the other aries placements. They come across as pretty chill at first but there's actually very little they won't dare to do, they love adventures

I've noticed Venusians can do really good in anything related to sales or business counseling, because they are good at estimating and promoting the value of things

I know we relate Neptune to otherworldly and glamorous vibe but all the people that I've met who made me go "wow, girl, you don't feel real" were people who had air signs in their big 3. They’re not real people, they’re concepts, I swear that’s the vibe they give me💀💀

Also, air signs in the big 3 is an underrated fame/success indicator imo. Nowadays networking is everything in order to succeed and these natives naturally attract popularity and connections SO easily. They effortlessly use their charm and likeness to gain opportunities

I once saw an observation that said Gemini risings give off dumb blonde energy and Im here to confirm it’s true, specially when Mercury is also in an air sign. This happens cause they're up in their minds all the time but this makes them appear VERY disconnected from their environment so they really just be looking like this 24/7 😀​😃​😄​😁​😆​🙂​ and that's why they come across as empty-headed. They also often have this manic pixie dream girl energy which results in people not taking them seriously. This is enhanced when you see that they have a tendency to get talkative about superficial or random topics but their more intelligent or deep thoughts they keep to themselves for some reason.

Taurus Moons actually are actually very very very strategic??? Other earth moons look messy af beside them. They're so grounded that they know exactly what they want, how they wanna get it and they are so sure of themselves they have no issue taking their sweet ass time with it. Every single step they take is so intentional and "organized" if that makes sense, but they pull it off as natural and spontaneous??

Also this is an obvious thing to say but Taurus Moons are so emotionally stable. They work extremely well under pressure, will literally be the calm person admist a chaos or extreme situation. I've seen Cap/Virgo moons getting triggered many times but Taurus moons???? I've known some of them for years and I've never seen them triggered EVER no matter happened which as a water moon that's fucking insane to me 😭​💀​💀​ Like sure depending on their personality they can be more or less expressive of their feelings but its always on their own terms, they don't let other people or situations just get reactions out of them if that makes sense

I've noticed Mercury in the 4th house creates a divided and scattered family. Just like Mercury in the 10th house indicates traveling for work, Mercury in the 4th indicates traveling because of your family. The people I've seen with this placement have all of their family members scattered around the world living completely different lives

Sun-Neptune harsh aspects are very impressionable people and very easily influenced

Also, a lot of people point out Sun-Pluto aspects have like a hidden dark/toxic side to their personality but I've seen it's actually Sun-Neptune that match this description

Libra placements can potentially be very disciplined and do well in demanding and/or serious occupations like corporate, military or athletes since Saturn is exalted in Libra.

Venus in the 1st house can tend to only value the superficially good things in them (lovable, likabale, beautiful, etc) and are more concerned with the image they present rather than building a real personality deep down. This make them ignore or downplay their flaws thus not reacting well to criticism and/or when someone does not like them.

All the men that I’ve met who were actually providers and had this involved father and husband vibes always had VIRGO, taurus and cancer placements

Men with capricorn placements aren’t providers, they’re just controlling af😭😭 They will also be emotionally distant and manipulative af too if they do not have other energies in the chart to balance it out

Honestly water suns (sun in a water house natives too) fascinate me. They just go around life casually hiding who they really are like they don’t have the most intricate personality deep down. All of them have mysterious and intriguing vibes it's not just scorpio!!!

5th house placements (including vertex) will stay behaving like teenagers regardless of their age. The song "forever young" by alphaville really describes them

Neptune in the 1st house/asc are prone to attracting lots and lots of creepy individuals because they have this aura where people project all sorts of delulu and twisted shit on them. Mentally and/or emotionally unwell people feel very attached to these natives unfortunately

Leo MC/10th house really does indicate a career where you're some kind of performer. That’s why many celebrities (specially ACTORS and singers) are Scorpio risings. This can also apply to careers like politics, public speaker, standup comedian, etc. All of these involve some level of fame ofc

Cancer MC/10th house indicates being some kind of creator (cancer=birthing something new, bringing something to life). This a lot of times relate to some art form of course but it can be other things for example a friend of mine has this placement and she works in science and she told me she works in a lab with substances and materials she created herself (idk how it works but you get the idea)

Pisces Suns have a major in gaslighting from the university of never taking responsibility. This can be the case for any unevolved pisces placement but I’ve noticed the lying to your face and twisting reality is much more blatant in Pisces Suns for some reason. They make arguments in such a way that you can tell something of what they’re saying is off but you can’t exactly prove them wrong either so 🤷🏽‍♀️💀

Mercurial placements (Gemini/Virgo) and Venus in the 3rd house may really love wearing rings or lots of bracelets, big watches, etc. Accessories that bring attention to the hands essentially

Libra placentas may or may not want to be "liked" but Libra Moon is a placement I've seen is genuinely liked by everyone. They have this calming and loving energy to them. Celebrities with this placement are generally unproblematic (Anne Hathaway, Emma Stone) or if they are problematic they can easily recover from backlash (Ariana Grande, Leo DiCaprio)

© astrobydalia

[pigeonpeach]

My lovely Wife

Aka Arlecchino and reader short! More baby lynette mentions as she is my favorite

Alrecchino is a dangerous woman. No woman or man dare to think otherwise. Many orphans are taken in across Tevyat and turned into perfect spies and warriors. She herself was one of them, she herself slit the throat of the previous Knave, taking his crown and dawning it herself. Indeed she is a woman who blood has stained her hand. So much so she’s certain there’s still dried bits under her nails that she cannot reach.

Still its in moments like these that her heart seems to make its presence known. She watched as her new caretaker was enjoying a tea party with the children. Using normal cups, some actually having non caffeinated tea. She recognized it as not being apart of the regular set in the kitchen. Oh how soft they look like this. On their knees as the children pretend to be discussing high topics or drama of fictional adults as if they were elitist ladies. Lynette in particular seems to enjoy this play. She sips her non caffeinated tea like a proper lady, her tail relaxed as she is sat right next to her mother. She notices how safe Lynette seems to feel around her mother. As shes close to her and seems to constantly look over at her to mimic her holding of the cup and posture. There are a set of small scones and treats too, likely prepared by mother as well. Lyney and Freminet being the only boys at the table. Most of the girls seem to be enjoying this play. Arlecchino smiles at this domestic scene, but she heads to her office before she is spotted. For blood is staining her sleeves and she wouldn’t like to ruin the moment.

When she comes back the children and them are still playing now a new game. This one being hide and seek. She smiles from the shadows spotting Lyney behind the couch. He spots her and seems embarrassed but she puts a finger on her lips. He nods in understanding as she approaches her beloved, her back turned as she counts down.

“Are you having fun?” She asks quietly, but her voice still sends shivers down their veins.

“O-oh! Yes. Yes.. did you need something.” Embarrassed they quickly turn around.

“No no. I just like watching you play with the children. You don’t mind if I watch correct?” She asks. She spots the blush on their cheeks.

“N-no its quite fine.” Arlecchino smiles as she sits on the couch. “Would you like anything?”

“Maybe some tea.” She asks. They nod as they quickly get her a cup to pour. Arlecchino watches Lynette emerge from her hiding spot as if to get some tea herself. Her little tail seems excited as she stealthy approaches her mother figure. Arlecchino smiles as Lynette appears to be eyeing the teacup. She quickly hides as to not be caught, while Arlecchino carefully takes the cup from their hands. Immediately upon turning around she watches as Lynette is caught. She smiles as Lynette now joins her mother in finding the others.

Its a rare sight to see the Knave smile. So for the children upon noticing their father they’re also surprised to see her smile. Nervously Lyney approaches her, his hat is still too big for his head as it regularly moves downwards to encompass his face. He quickly pushes it up.

“W-would father like to join?” He offers innocently. Arlecchino looks at her children with a rare hint of vulnerability.

“I’d be delighted to.” She said.

[childrenofcain-if]

C shot him an unimpressed look. “thanks for the suggestion, but i’m not taking fashion advice from poor people.”

Oh I just know C would hate my broke ass IRL 😭

it’s okay, bonnie, they’d hate me too 🫶🏻

jokes aside, they’re not that elitist. they just get even more snobby if someone annoys them enough.

[jewish-vents]

after a year of being libeled by conspiracy theorists and protested almost monthly, a Jewish art museum near me is closing down. The reason is actually more to do with funding than the bad press, which luckily didn't catch on (although it’s unlucky too, bc the story of harassment was also ignored by local press), but the reaction to the announcement is still pissing me off bc ppl are clearly assuming that Jews are all rich, so the museum must be lying about why they’re closing. Ppl I can’t believe ever actually visited keep posting about the museum lying to members and stealing their money, or being elitists who don’t want to share art, or being a money laundering front, or freaking anything. It’s hard enough to lose a cultural and community center like this without continuously seeing the reasons it’s so desperately needed

.

[erensmid]

for real

we're fucking quitting honkai in february bye

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

wait whats wrong with poodle mixes?

doodle fans are known for not caring about genetic screenings or breeding based on temperament, and even more commonly just crossing poodles with breeds distant enough that the outcome is too wide a spectrum to reliably predict.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with doodles themselves in a vacuum, but they’re a fad “designer dog” breed right now. Greeders (greedy breeders) make all sorts of lofty promises to first-time dog owners. They claim every doodle is hypoallergenic (they aren’t) and doesn’t shed (they absolutely shed). They say they’re the perfect lovable family dog (that really depends on training and hoping the greeder didn’t breed a child-aggressive dog). They say they’re easy to train (not inherently, poodles tend to train easy but that doesn’t mean the mutt produced when crossing them with any other breed will be). They say they’re low maintenance (doodles typically have coats that mat VERY easily and must be brushed thoroughly 1-2 times daily, I have never seen a doodle keeper actually do this and if you see doodles in public or online they’re often matted from toe to tip, then yeh owner complains when a groomer has to literally shave the entire dog to get it free of mats).

Doodles are just genuinely a scam. It’s not the fault of the dogs, and a doodle has just as much capability to be an excellent companion dog as any other mutt, but they rarely get that chance because they’re bought on impulse to keep up with the growing fad. The greeders producing them are con artists who intentionally target first-time and uneducated dog owners because they’re an easier mark. Since they give poor advice to clients, many of these clients have no idea how to train their dogs or how to deal with socialization and behavior issues as they arise. That’s where you get the completely neurotic nightmares vets and pet groomers think about when they hear a doodle has an appointment.

Doodles also attract the most annoying elitist white women on the planet who will try to gun you down for saying poodle mix or mutt instead of doodle.

[sosuigeneris]

have you ever got any cosmetic work done (surgical/non-surgical)? what is your beauty maintenance routine? what are some stuff that wealthier ppl know about that most don’t regarding beauty/skin/hair/hygiene/diet/fitness? sorry it’s so many questions. i love your blog so much btw I’ve learned a lot from you :)🩷

nope, never had surgery or anything too invasive. I really don’t need it haha, losing weight, fixing my skin and growing my hair out did wonders for me. I’ve had collagen pumped into my skin for some acne scars I had but that was a useless procedure, this is back when I was 18. I’ve done exilis and em sculpt which I’ve mentioned below, I’ve gotten laser done (useless), I had IVs for semaglutide (useless). I think that’s about it.

beauty maintenance routine:

wax every 1.5 months

thread and wax my face every Sunday

face masks 2x week

hair mask 1 x week

high frequency if I feel like my skin needs a push (I have a wand at home)

gel polish every month

minoxidil for hair growth

I FaceTime my dermat once a month or once in two months

things that wealthy people do that normally people don’t know about… the problem is that everything is public these days. Any Jane can get filler and collagen therapy now and in certain elitist families, there is a sense of disdain about that. Beauty is a competition, it’s a very hush hush business and most try to be as discreet as possible.

I’ve seen lots of nose jobs and chin jobs that these younger girls get done in their late teens or early 20s to improve their prospects for fame (very common in the entertainment families). But with legacy family businesses, among the older women, it will be one of two extremes- a horrible face lift and smudged make up or all natural face yoga and black magic that they swear by. Baby Botox is also huge with the younger wives but they never get it done in India, they always go to LA/ NYC / and absolute worst case Dubai. You really cannot afford to be 35 and botched. The reality is that with huge legacy families what you don’t have is time. Time for recovery I mean, because for those few months you cannot be seen publicly. For most families this is impossible- there are constant engagements, philanthropic activities (PR), weddings and parties to attend - so whatever they get done, they ensure that the down time is very very short. That’s also why most of them have consistent “natural” wellness routines like getting massages weekly. emsculpt and exilis are a big secret (I’ve done both). I’m writing a blog post about it in real time. Downtime is zero. A lot of women also get exilis done for their vaginas to make it tighter.

I have cousins who have MUAs on a retainer basis. Regardless of how big or small the event is, they ensure that they’re looking glam at all times if they’re going to be socialising. I personally think that’s insane and I’m very good at my beating my face so I never resorted to doing this for every occasion but yes this is common.

diet - I’ll be honest, most girls will very rarely touch food. If we’re going out for dinner we normally go for Japanese because it’s a little lighter. They smoke/ vape a lot which in turn suppresses appetite.

what I plan to get done soon:

acne scar treatment (I have very slight scarring only on one cheek because I sleep on my side)

hydrafacial

ultrasound for double chin (I don’t have a crazy double chin but I do want my face to be a little more snatched without fillers and Botox)

Things I know I will get done at some point:

PRP facials

micro needling

emsculpt again (like before my wedding whenever that happens)

Botox just in between my eyebrows because I frown when I’m listening

some treatment for my laugh lines at some point in my life

tbh the best beauty tip I can give you is start working out young. I’ve seen so many women not go back to their pre-baby weight, struggle with their health which inevitably fucks with your appearance, and try all sorts of stupid things when they could literally just start working out and watch their body transform in a few months.

also, don’t get fillers done impulsively. It looks ridiculous unless you have the right doc and 8/10 times you don’t. try to stick to your ethnicity as much as possible. As an Indian, the closest inspo for me is Middle Eastern because I have similar features (full brows, full lips and big eyes). But if I try getting Korean style plastic surgery I’m going to look daft.

[omega-puppy]

I have been teetering on the edge of making this post, until a post by @pin3-vin3 (go check them out!!) made me sigh and realise I had to sit down and do this.

I’m putting a nsft warning on this, because I can’t really comment in depth about it omegaverse without at least touching on the sexual aspects. So buckle up.

Alphas

Alphas have higher social status and prestige compared to the other two secondary sexes. Similar to men within the patriarchy, alphas have an easier time getting a job, making liveable wages, and generally have much more respect within medical, law and social service systems. (For example a doctor is more likely to actually listen to and accept what an alpha is saying as a symptom or sickness rather than an omega, more on that later).

Alphas however, have a caveat to this respect. They are respected even more, when part of a pack. (More on packs later). Alphas are respected more when part of a pack because they are then seen as more dependable and successful than an alpha without a pack. An alpha with just one partner is respected more than an alpha without as well. Alpha on alpha relationships are hit and miss, some elitist alphas may see this as settling, others may see it as a strong representation of an alphas ability to accept and care for people they love.

Which brings me to my next point. Alphas and emotion. While alphas are seen as strong and protective, there is nothing inherently wrong within society with an alpha setting that aside to be what someone needs. If they need a strong and aggressive protector, an alpha will be that. An alpha might be firm with their partner, similar to a parent trying to get kids to eat vegetables, but again, that’s based on what the situation requires. If their partner responds better to gentle nurturing, alphas gain a lot of respect and reverence from adapting to that.

Scent wise, I really hate this idea that alpha scents can’t be flowery and sweet. Scents as a whole can range and are similar to a cutie mark or something, they represent the person as a whole, what they’re good at, the things they like, the scent might represent a memory or key ideal. (I.e. smelling like gunpowder and mist might be linked to watching fireworks as a kid). That being said, these scents are accompanied by undertones that alter the general vibe around them, hence the requirement for alphas to have a sense of emotional control.

An aggressive or pissed off alpha, will emit spicy or heated undertones to their scent. An alpha that’s sad will have slightly muggy undertones. An alpha trying to calm their partner may emit soothing scents like chamomile undertones. This is from alphas evolving to serve an omega as a grounding technique, but it extends to alpha on alpha too. (More on why betas are unaffected later.)

Alphas can be affected by omegas scents. A distressed omega lets out the most foul and potent odour known to man. It’s a natural deterrent. Similarly an omega in heat releases a very specific scent that attracts alphas, but not how you’d think. It makes alphas weak in the knees and all they want to do is help. This means, if an omega is aggressively against being knotted for a heat, the Alpha can’t encroach on that unless it’s incredibly necessary (like if the omega is going to die, omegas safety is paramount, similar to like, medically necessary procedures).

Scent glands are located on both sides of the neck, the wrists and the inner thighs. When scenting items, the weakest spot is the wrists, it’s generally just for a temporary mark that lasts about a week or so. The neck lasts much longer and is much stronger, it also has a more affectionate meaning, to mark something with the glands on the neck. The inner thigh is the most intimate, and gifting an item that is marked by the inner thigh is like sending a nude. It’s a very private and intimate scent that you only really see on extremely personal items like particularly important pushes or treasures.

Alphas can growl and have a command tone. This is a tone that alphas can use to convey commands that must be followed. It’s taboo and in the eyes of the court, overly aggressive (not illegal to do, but is similar to a high stakes threat) outside of bond-marked couples (more later). This command tone rings in the back of an omegas mind until it is actioned, it becomes like their own impulsive thought, and it grows stronger the longer it’s resisted. This is most often used within mate-bonded couples to get omegas to eat during their heat (which is often forgotten). But as mentioned before, can be misused and in the eyes of the law, is not illegal, but is not aligned with social morality.

Marks! An alpha can bite down on the neck gland of an omega to attempt a mark. However, this mark is only temporary, and becomes permanent when an omega does it back to the alpha. Only then can the omega actually be able to have that alpha’s pups, and that alpha alone. Marks are shared between pack mates, so yes multiple marks can be made but they myst be entirely mutual. That is, is alpha A and omega B are marked to one another, and they want to introduce Alpha C into their pack, Alpha C must mark and be marked by alpha A and omega B.

Marks that are mutual are permanent and are referred to as Bond Marks. Bond marks create a permanent bond between alphas and omegas that can only be broken on agreement of both parties, and cannot be overwritten. These bonds work at an emotional level. If a bonded marked omega gets upset, the alpha will feel a portion of that sadness. This can also translate medically and is a common part of the diagnostic process when treating bonded pairs.

Alphas have knots, when they get into a rut, knotting is at the forefront of their mind and it becomes something they are going to need. Blood pressure rises, pupils dilate and heart rate speeds up. It’s an adrenaline storm essentially, and it can lead to medical complications if not placated by knotting.

Betas

Unfortunately, in my headcannon, betas are very similar to normal humans. They can reproduce with alphas or omegas as well as each other, they don’t carry scents nor are they affected by them (they can still smell scents, they just don’t really react to them)

However, it’s incredibly common for a pack to consist of an Alpha and Omega pair with a beta third partner. These betas will wear a mark which will need to be renewed. (Because they don’t have scent glands the mark doesn’t take the same way it does for an alpha or omega). These marks are usually symbolic rather than a deep rooted bond as it is with Alphas and Omegas marking each other or others within their secondary sex.

Betas often help alphas and omegas get things done during heats and ruts. Because they’re not affected by the heavy scent of heat and rut, they can still function and get things done around the house. However, say an alpha and omega are having their rut/heat, and the alpha for whatever reason, has to leave for a time. The beta can take over for a time, comforting or using a toy or themselves (depending on the situation) to help the omega feel like they’re being rutted. (However betas don’t have the capacity to knot. So they cannot provide that sensation to an omega)

Betas are incredibly talented at being able to support their partners, and with such a large majority of the population being betas, it’s very easy to find materials and resources that help betas work out how to best support their partners or friends that need help.

Omegas

Omegas are incredibly similar to alphas in many ways, but are different in many too.

Omegas have the lowest amount of social prestige, however notably, they are not treated as *lesser*. Omegas are not considered weak or inferior. They are considered to be better suited to different roles. For example. An omega might go for a job in construction, but be perceived to be better at making coffee. This is not something that is laughed off and is a comment that’s thrown in an omegas face to put them down. It would be more of a gentle suggestion that they should take it easy and not push themselves too much.

Single omegas (un-bonded, un-packed, un-mated) are at higher risk within society, because as is the way of society, there are many who see them as easy or weak targets. So it’s not unlikely that omegas will live within apartment blocks full of omegas or even a few alpha neighbours so their scent is lingering on them when they’re out and about.

Emotionally, omegas are definitely more in touch with their emotions (note: not emotional!!! But in touch, meaning they have a greater understanding of what they feel and when). This can be misconstrued to be that they are more emotional or sensitive but that’s not necessarily true.

Omegas build nests within their homes. This isn’t always a bed, but it can be. It can be on the floor on a futon, or on a couch, sometimes even just in the corner of a room. There are slick-resistant mats you can get for the bottom of the nest, otherwise the nests are mostly constructed with blankets, soft toys, items that are sentimental and important. Omegas nests are sacred spaces, often where an omega retreats during heat. Alphas are expected to present themselves, hands behind their back, chin in the air exposing their neck glands, and receive permission before entering a nest. Not doing so can cause extreme distress for the omega, and can even cause a drop (more later).

Scent wise, of course omegas can smell hardy, Smokey, like a tree. Similar to alphas omegas also emit undertones to their scent that correspond to emotional states. Omegas in high distress emit scents that are repulsive, omegas in heat emit scents that are more attractive. Omegas can emit calming scents that help relax alphas. (This is mostly just the flip side of what alphas can do to omegas which I already went though above.

Omegas do have a need to be marked. When in heat they may beg and plead for a mark. And they may have to fight the instinct to mark an alpha back during these times. In legal cases, the responsibility lies on the Alpha, as they are viewed to be more in control during heats or ruts.

Scent glands are located on both sides of the neck, the wrists and the inner thighs. When scenting items, the weakest spot is the wrists, it’s generally just for a temporary mark that lasts about a week or so. The neck lasts much longer and is much stronger, it also has a more affectionate meaning, to mark something with the glands on the neck. The inner thigh is the most intimate, and gifting an item that is marked by the inner thigh is like sending a nude. It’s a very private and intimate scent that you only really see on extremely personal items like particularly important pushes or treasures.

Omegas can purr which calms alphas around them similar to a calming scent. Omegas can also trill, but this is an act that is similar to chastising a child. It’s an easy way of saying stop, or be punished. Alphas do get a twinge to the back of their neck after hearing this sound, like being scruffed.

When an omega senses a rut, one of two things is the most common response. They either go into a pseudo heat, which is similar to their regular heat but instead of lasting a few days, it lasts maybe one day at most, more commonly it lasts about 3 or so hours. The other option is they are like the same sides of a magnet to the rutting alpha, just something in them makes them unable to get too close, and the alpha will usually pick up on a scent of rejection. In some cases neither of these things happen. It’s not considered abnormal or anything to worry about, it’s just rare.

Omegas in heat produce slick, helps alphas out. The slick is produced by a pair of glands in the upper area of the inside canal. Prolonged or overexposure to suppressant medication can cause complications where these glands get blocked or clotted, and it can cause intense pain and discomfort, as well as mental health problems like nest rejection and anxiety.

omegas have muscles that are designed to be pressed against, like pressure points, that can only be pressed on by knots. They line the walls just inside the opening, and require to all be pressed with enough consistent pressure, at the same time. There are aids that help achieve this to relieve the stress for omegas without an alpha or who do not want an alpha.

If on suppressant medication in a way that is not medically appropriate, if encroached on by an alpha without permission, if their nest is invaded, if their mark is damaged and in rare cases, if rejected by an alpha they particularly like, an omega can enter a drop. This can present as fever, hysteria, anxiety, panic attacks, depression and even psychosis. It takes an alpha or a group of well loved and well trusted friends, providing long term (a week at minimum) support to bring an omega out of this, through calming scents, gentle comfort and allowing rest (bringing food, cleaning the house, letting the omega stay in their nest).

Look there’s probably plenty of shit I haven’t said, I’ve been spending all day typing this out. This is just my personal idea of how this works, and like all individual ideas, it’ll probably shift and change over time. But there you go. That’s my thoughts on it, I’m gonna crawl into my nest now.

[velvetvexations]

Not to downplay the seriousness of some of these issues, but ngl no amount of fancy academic words is going to make queer discourse not sound like petty insecure&elitist subculture shit lol

“Evil scary tee em ee genderfucks think they’re better than me” aw is someone upset? Gonna throw a fit bc you got called an emo bc emos are lame and you’re clearly a metalhead? Or post about how you need to listen to 300 hours of bauhaus before you can call yourself a goth? Oh and maybe accuse someone of being a fake gamer girl who only plays doom to get male attention!! Deeply unserious people are the same no matter what the topic is and they always have such a persecution complex about it too, as if the valor stealing emos/goths/gamer girls/tee em ee strawmen actually exist :/

lmfao

[saltywinteradult]

Jace and Luke are perfect?? They were 8 and 10 year old bullies. So what if Aegon was the ringleader, they were bullies too. Aegon didn’t threaten them, they did it of their own will and they had fun doing it. They weren’t remorseful about it, there’s no scene where we see them have a moment of reflection like “hey this isn’t right”, they don’t look over their shoulder at a sad Aemond, there no reluctance about it. They just laugh.

Aemond when we first met him wasn’t a bad kid, out of all 4 boys- Aemond was the sensitive kid. The bookish, well behaved, dutiful and respectful one. Driftmark was the first time he stood up for himself, the first time he insulted them to their faces. The first time we see him have unkind words for anyone and still there’s no excuse to assault someone over words. Aemond was the one who was physically attacked there first. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on them if they didn’t touch him first and it was 4 to 1. He grabbed a rock to defend himself after being kicked and punched by 4 other kids. He raised his hand and dropped it a few times while Jace was swinging the knife wildly in Aemond’s direction intending to mortally wound him.

Everything after Driftmark, his personality- the anger, vengeance, calculated coldness all of that is a direct result of what happened to him. Being the target of bullying because he was dragonless and a deeply sensitive boy. Having Rhaenyra’s son maim him and seeing that nobody, not even his father cared except for his mother, Criston, sister and brother. Despite that he still was the dutiful, respectful son he just hated Rhaenyra’s spawn and rightfully so. They took his eye and got off Scott free. Then Lucerys came and laughed in his face about a cruel joke and he paid for it with his life. You can’t say that Aemond deserved to lose his eye because he insulted the Blacks kids with WORDS, then accuse him of being evil for killing Luke who took his eye. Maimed > Insults. Also even though Aemond had reason to kill Luke, it was Vhagar who ultimately did it. Arrax’s human attacked Vhagar’s humans and Vhagar never forgot that. Vhagar felt Aemond’s pain that night and felt his anger and injustice afterwards.

Jace is soo far from perfect, Rhaenyra is an unreliable narrator about her sons. Especially Jacaerys.

Jace was an a-s-s-h-o-l-e.

He thought less of and bullied Aemond for not having a Dragon. He has an elitest mindset that nothing matters or can oppose him because he’s a Targaryen. He’s not even an amazing brother like people make him out to be. He is dismissive of Luke’s feelings and his depression over his life and the position he was born into. Then there’s the scene of him beating him and throwing him around on the beach, insulting and yelling at him. In Darksvister’s release of the expanded scene there’s this exchange:

Steffon: “You might go easier on him, my prince. So he can learn what you're trying to teach.”

JACE: “He needs to be ready if he ever means to be respected by his enemies.”

*Jace directs this at Luke, brow-beating him. The younger boy's shoulders sag. He is having a tough day already.*

STEFFON: “Respected? Or feared?”

JACE: “Better to be feared than mocked.”

*Steffon frowns at Jace, not as convinced.*

He is literally bullying his brother, it would definitely be seen that way if it was the Green brothers.

Jace was an elitist and was on his way to being a tyrant.

“Dragons will win the lords over quicker than ravens.”

Meaning he meant to threaten Houses with Dragonfire if they didn’t join Rhaenyra.

These are all things that team black would hate Team Green for but somehow they’re excused and misconstrued as noble when it’s Rhaenyra’s sons.

I agree with all of this. All of Jace's and Luke's nastiness is erased by the fandom in the name of propping up Rhaenyra, because acknowledging that they're assholes would inevitably reflect badly on Rhaenyra and we can't have that, now can we? After all, it certainly would not make any sense for Rhaenyra, who's been enabled and told her whole life that she's special and better than everyone else for being a Targaryen, a dragonrider, and the heir to the throne would herself become a toxic, enabling parent who raises her kids to believe they're better than everyone else...

I've been accused by TB stans of hating Rhaenyra because I'm willing to criticise her for her mistakes, which feels really unfair because I think there's a lot to like about her character - I just prefer my characters to have flaws. Erasing those flaws does the characters no favours. That is especially true with regard to Jace, who has so little personality to begin with. Like you said, what little we do see of him does show that he's not a good person. I don't know how Team Black managed to forget that this is not Heroes vs Villains, this is War Criminals vs War Criminals and we're simply meant to choose which war criminals we like the most. The characters themselves might deny that they're bad people, but the audience sure as hell isn't supposed to do that. That's missing the point.

This is largely the reason why I think Luke's death is ultimately Aemond's fault, even if it wasn't his intention. (Whether that was a good choice by the writers is another matter.) It's understandable, and considerably less bad than if he'd killed Luke intentionally, but it's still not excusable to me. I lean toward the opinion that revenge does more harm than good, but I do not blame Aemond at all for wanting it. I'd want it too if I were him. Considering that formative trauma he experienced as a child it's no wonder he would become pretty messed up as an adult. Of course he's become resentful and obsessed with getting revenge on Luke. Of course his obsession with revenge would make him reckless and not consider the potential consequences. Does that make him a bad person? Maybe, but it sure as hell doesn't make him any worse than Luke is for mutilating him to begin with. Luke absolutely deserved to be punished for what he did; I don't want to get bogged down by arguments over whether he truly deserved to be killed. YMMV.

As you say, Vhagar felt Aemond's pain and rage and acted on those feelings despite him not actually wanting her to, but at the end of the day it was Aemond who got reckless and forgot that dragons have a will of their own. If he didn't actually want Luke dead, he could've chosen to not fly after Luke to toy with him in the first place. As understandable as his actions are, in my opinion it was a very stupid thing to do, especially considering that the family is already on the brink of war and killing Rhaenyra's beloved son isn't gonna help them avoid war, is it? (Though I guess good on him for taking one for the people by kickstarting the war that spelled the beginning of the end for the royal family... we stan a communist icon) None of this makes me like or sympathise with Aemond less, though. Again, unlike the Team Black stans, I prefer my characters to have flaws and make mistakes.

[kallie-den]

Warhound

Sartha Thrace, ace mech pilot, is always so confused. She's a rebel, so why is she fighting on the wrong side? She's a free woman, so why is she wearing a muzzle? She's a hero, so why do her comrades treat her like a rabid dog? Sartha Thrace is so fortunate that her beloved Handler is always there to help her understand

This is a little different from my usual work. An experiment in style and tone, although it is still definitely mind control smut! Be warned, though. The tone is dark and it features some things like betrayal and gunplay that some readers might take exception to

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

—

Nothing makes Sartha Thrace feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

She usually likes to say it’s because of all the good you can do with that kind of power, because it’s a good line for pro-rebellion propaganda, but the truth is that it’s far more immediate than that. The joy comes from a million different things. The way the seat beneath her thrums as the machine kicks into life. The scent of machine oil and burnt steel as the reactor spools up. The way everything in the world shakes when her almighty machine, as big as a skyscraper, takes just one single step. The joy isn’t in her head. It’s in her blood. Her guts.

It’s fucking perfect.

All in all, it makes Sartha feel like she’s not just a person anymore. A person is just meat, however much of a hero they are. In the cockpit, she’s a sixty-foot-tall titan ready to crush the world under her heel. There’s nothing like the power trip, and it helps take her mind off some of the anxieties that like to eat at her.

Ancyor is the name of her beast. They know it everywhere, because Sartha is, after all, a hero. Just a name, no class, no model number. Not much point now. Ancyor isn’t like anything else after all the cannibalism Sartha’s had to do to keep her running. Everything’s been replaced twice. Most of it, three times or more. So now Ancyor is one hell of an ugly mongrel, but that hasn’t done anything to keep it off the rebel recruitment posters. They like using its face almost as much as they do Sartha’s.

It’s what you get for being a hero. Hell, for being the hero. She’s the big hero of the rebellion.

They’re just coming up on the battlezone now. Sartha trusts her instruments but she trusts her eyes even more, so she takes a moment to peer out of Ancyor’s grubby little viewports, even though it’s hard with her muzzle in the way. She can see her comrades’ battle line unfolding on either side of her, and it doesn’t make her happy. None of the other mechs look anything like Ancyor.

They’re all brand new and freshly-painted, and way too sleek for their own good. The kinds of machines that have just rolled off an Imperial production line. Fresh tech given to fresh meat that doesn’t even know how to use it properly. Something about it unsettles Sartha. She has too many ghostly little memories of fighting on the other side, against machines like that. Being with them doesn’t feel right.

Memories of someone else’s life. That’s what Handler always calls them when she tells Sartha not to dwell on them. Sartha does her best to listen, because Handler is always right. Handler is wonderful.

Sartha raises a hand and touches her muzzle as she thinks about that.

Everyone’s in position, comes the voice over the radio. Snooty. Elitist. An officer.

Copy, comes the reply. We’re ready.

Can we send the dog in first? someone asks. A bunch of sniggers follow that one.

Negative, says the officer. We stick to the plan. Commencing bombardment.

A few moments later, the ground starts rumbling and the whole sky lights up red and white. Sartha doesn’t look. She knows better than to stare at the fireworks. This isn’t her first battle. She’s a hero, and she knows what she needs to do. The little drip of adrenaline the blasts prompt helps her focus.

“Here we go, Ancyor,” she murmurs to no one.

When she opens up the throttle, Ancyor responds as always, with an ugly purr. The beast surges forwards. Sartha wants to be right on the heels of the bombardment. That’s what she does best. She gets stuck in with blade and chain, wherever it’s getting good and messy.

That makes her a really big target, obviously, and sure enough, the enemy is already replying to the artillery in kind. Beams and missiles start to fly past Ancyor as it sprints. Well, not all of them. Some of them hit home, and Sartha feels the impact in her own body. It does nothing but put a crazy grin on her face, behind the muzzle’s metal cage. She feels her mech clunk underneath her as redundant systems slam into place wherever the damage isn’t so superficial.

It’ll take more than that to put her beast down.

But since she isn’t actually crazy the way people say, Sartha shelters behind a ruin, ready for the tense dance of sprinting from cover to cover as she advances. As she does, she sees her comm system lighting up. It’s the enemy, yelling at her across a broad comm band.

Obviously Sartha knows she should ignore it, but there’s never been a good pilot who didn’t know how to trash talk. She isn’t enough of a professional to not reach over and flick a few switches so she can listen in.

At first the transmissions are too loud, and so messy they almost sound like interference. It’s not, it’s just too many damn people yelling at once. As usual, the sight of Ancyor loping into combat was getting a nice healthy response. After a moment, Sartha manages to pick out a few things here and there:

Traitor.

How could you do this to us?

Why?

What the fuck is wrong with you, Thrace?

What did they do to you?

Somehow, some of that makes it through the adrenaline and Sartha stops grinning. It’s not the words exactly. It’s the emotion. There’s this one woman in particular she can pick out, howling into her radio. It’s not familiar, it’s no one she knows, but there’s something in her voice. A depth; a ragged, throatfucked anguish that only comes from something real.

From real betrayal.

Sartha risks taking a hand off the joystick to adjust her muzzle, trying to make it less uncomfortable.

At the same time, she tries to convince herself it’s all bullshit. She tries to remind herself where she is, and what she’s fighting for, but that’s hard because she doesn’t know. All that stuff - the briefings before the mission, for example - is just a haze. It’s fog. It’s nothing. It’s like she wasn’t even there. So what the fuck is this battle?

Another look through the viewport. The whole place is already buried under inches of dust and napalm, but Sartha still can’t quite shake the feeling that she knows this city. It feels like maybe, in one of those other lives she sometimes remembers, this was a place she wanted to defend.

There’s something wrong with her, she thinks. It’s the only way to explain why she keeps flinching whenever she sees one of those sleek, black, fresh Imperial mechs punch out of the dust-fog. Stupid, stupid. They’re on her side. She needs to get that straight.

Sartha is keeping Ancyor moving, but that’s just instinct, and instinct isn’t half as good when you’re not paying fucking attention. And she can’t stop paying attention to that howling voice on the comms.

What did they do to you, Thrace? Was it money? What the fuck did they do to you?

What did they do to her? Sartha doesn’t quite know, although she knows for sure it wasn’t money. She remembers something, maybe, unless it’s just one of those other people’s lives. A room. A room that makes her scared shitless. And pain. From electric shocks, she thinks. And lights - lights shined into her head so bright she thought they would punch all the way out the other side. And most of all, words that never ever ever ever stopped whispering.

Fuck. Shit. She’s breaking down now, like a raw rookie. Only Sartha’s not a rookie, she’s a hero, only maybe she’s not even that if she’s a traitor like the voice on the radio says. She needs to get her head on straight. She needs to figure out where she is and what this battle is. She needs to get this freakish fucking muzzle off her head. She needs-

Click.

The radio goes silent and Sartha goes dead still. She knows Ancyor better than she knows her own soul. She knows every little noise it ever makes, and this one is very special. It’s an override for the comm system, activating a direct line to one special person in particular. Sartha’s breast swells with hope and bile in the instant before she hears her voice.

Can you hear me, Sartha? Handler says.

“Yes,” Sartha replies at once, because she would never keep Handler waiting. She’s already pulling herself together. She can’t break down like this. Not with Handler here.

It seemed like you were getting confused, Handler says. So here I am.

Hearing that almost feels bad because it’s almost a reproach, but Sartha feels good instead because she’s just happy to listen to Handler talking. Handler’s voice is love.

I’m going to take care of that for you, Handler warns. Ready?

“Yes,” Sartha says. She’s never quite ready for what’s coming, but she’s cringingly grateful for it anyway because in a few moments all the things she was worrying about won’t matter.

Hound, Handler says in a special voice. Off The Leash.

It’s not quite instant, and so Sartha gets a single moment to experience her own psyche cracking like an egg. It feels, more than anything, like clarity. She gets it now, as she falls away from herself. Sartha Thrace isn’t a real person anymore. Sartha Thrace is gone, they just kept the shape of her, like a papier-mâché mask keeping the imprint of someone’s face.

They needed her body, because it’s recognizable. They needed her piloting skills, because she’s the best. Everything else, they scooped out, except for whatever they needed to keep to make a nice little convenient shell for the thing that’s inside her now. The thing that’s coming out, now that she’s Off The Leash.

Sartha Thrace goes away, and Hound wakes up.

Hound whoops and growls, making Handler laugh approvingly over the radio, and guns Ancyor’s throttle so viciously hard the mech starts to scream underneath her. Hound doesn’t care. Hound doesn’t care about anything. She’s right where she belongs - in her colossal metal body, muzzle strapped to her face, beloved Handler in her ear.

And in front of her, there are targets.

Hound makes Ancyor lunge out of cover and surge towards the nearest thing she sees that doesn’t look like one of her sleek, black packmates, and then start tearing it to shreds. The way Ancyor jerks and whines in protest as it really rips into an enemy mech turns Hound’s growl into a wolf-scream of pure, untainted glee that lasts until the broken, bleeding thing under Ancyor’s blades finally stops moving.

Then, Hound lopes off into the rebel city in her mech, looking for more things to kill.

***

Sartha Thrace doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time Ancyor heaves back into its berth in the hangar. She only knows it’s after the battle, and mostly she knows there was a battle because Ancyor is beaten to hell and she’s covered in scars and her own matted blood.

It hurts, but in a good way, like how exercise hurts. The core of that good feeling is the vague sense that she has done a good job today. She fought hard, and they won.

Handler will be proud of her.

Despite how exhausted Sartha is, that knowledge puts a spring in her step as she dismounts from Ancyor’s cockpit onto one of the huge piers that line the hangar in rows. The hangar is a vast, cavernous space, too big to feel real, so big it’ll make your eyes hurt if you stare at the ceiling or the far wall. It’s steadily filling up as more and more of Sartha’s comrades make it back.

Not as many as there had been when they left, but that’s always how it is. Sartha knows how to make herself cold to it.

She gets a lot of hard, bad looks from the other pilots as they dismount. Some even spit. Sartha doesn’t let it trouble her. She isn’t really one of them, she knows. They’re all Imperial to a T: neat, black uniforms, cropped hair, stiff hats and straight backs. Sartha wears grubby old military khakis instead, with more than a few personal touches, and her mid-length blonde hair is messy in a deliberate, handsome way. And there’s the muzzle, of course. She doesn’t look like one of them. She looks like one of the people on the other side.

Sartha could probably figure out the other, less superficial reasons she wasn’t really one of them if she put her mind to it, but she didn’t, because Handler had told her not to. Handler always knows best.

Maybe something happened in the battle, and that’s why they’re so mad. Sartha doesn’t really remember, past the beginning. It’s all fog. She doesn’t worry about that. Another thing Handler has told her not to worry about. Sometimes it feels like her whole life has been consumed by fog, but she never worries thanks to Handler. That’s one of Handler’s many gifts to her, and in exchange Sartha needs to be very very good. She delights in being good. She won’t remove her muzzle without permission, even now, as it rubs uncomfortably into her face.

And there! Sartha catches sight of Her coming down the pier, as if in response to the hero pilot’s yearning.

Handler.

She’s magnificent. Beautiful, yes, but in a special way, more like a goddess than a person. Everyone else knows She’s special too. The other pilots, the ones who’d been spitting at Sartha, move out of the way and salute at Her passing. A special uniform marks Her rank. It’s more ceremonial than practical: tight-fitting leathers and high boots, with a sleek cap to crown Her platinum hair and a heavy, black coat to make Her silhouette all the more imposing.

Sartha senses that the other pilots are a little bit afraid of Her, but she isn’t. She could never be afraid of Handler.

“Sartha,” Handler says, in a voice that makes Sartha shiver every time. “Congratulations. You did well.”

Every single muscle in Sartha’s body goes stiff at the praise. Her head starts spinning giddily and a nervous, twitchy grin comes to her face. This is a sacred moment. But it’s too good to be true. It’s too much.

“I got… confused,” Sartha replies in a crestfallen tone. She can’t disagree with Handler, obviously, but nor can she be dishonest. She needs to volunteer these things.

“That’s true,” Handler conceded. “But you made it back on track. That’s what counts. It was a very confusing place for you. You did well.”

Sartha gasps and shudders. Butterflies in her stomach. The praise is all the sweeter now that she’s unburdened herself. She feels the ecstasy of purification.

“T-thank you,” she blurts out nervously, stupidly.

Talking to Handler always does this to her. Sartha has as many notches on her bedpost as any other ace but with Handler she’s fourteen again, a tongue-tied virgin struggling to think of a good enough line to get one of the older, prettier girls to take her to prom. She has to grab her left arm with her right hand to stop it shaking too much. But the anxiety is more than balanced out by elation. She can’t be anything but happy when Handler is here.

A thin smile comes to Handler’s face. On anyone else it might have seemed cruel, but Sartha knows that Handler is beyond petty things like cruelty. “You’re a very good hound.”

That phrase is like a magic spell. It lets Sartha relax into the praise. She giggles, and the grin on her face becomes broad and innocent. She’s a good hound for Handler. It’s perfect. It makes whatever she was worrying about earlier when she was confused feel utterly remote and small. Nothing matters when she’s a good hound for Handler. It’s the only important thing in the entire world, and her whole body knows it.

Sartha’s brain throbs endorphins into her bloodstream at a dangerous rate. She’s seeing stars and shivering rapturously. She’s blushing and dripping between her legs; turned on like hell even though this pleasure is so much more than just sex. Being a hound is better than being just a hero ever was.

She’s a good hound for Handler.

“And you know what that means,” Handler adds, smiling still. “Don’t you?”

Sartha dares to nod. She has her hopes, but it would be blasphemous to get her hopes up.

“Good hounds get rewards,” Handler tells her, and reaches out to pet her head.

This is special and it makes Sartha stop thinking altogether. Handler’s touch on her head is infinitely familiar, and more reassuring than anything. Her thoughts turn into bubbles that pop as Handler messes her hair affectionately. Sartha doesn’t try to collect herself, she just grins her stupid grin and stretches her back to try and push her head against Handler’s fingers. The lack of self-discipline is an indulgence, but one that she’s allowed from time to time.

“There we go!” Handler coos. “You deserve this. Don’t you?”

“Yesyesyes,” Sartha blurts out, all in a rush. “Thankyouthankyou.”

She could cry. She’s never been happier.

Handler gives her the blessing of letting her enjoy this for a few long moments before She says: “I think there’s another thing you deserve too. You deserve a treat. Hound deserves a treat.”

Sartha nods, drunk on eagerness. A treat is something different. Something specific. She always gets a treat after a mission, unless she’s been very, very bad.

“Sit,” Handler commands.

At once Sartha is on her knees. It doesn’t take thought. She sees that some of the other pilots are gathering round, and some of them are laughing at her. Sartha doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anyone else when she’s with Handler. Those other pilots just don’t understand how special She is.

Handler leans in and looms over her, and says in that special voice of Hers: “Hound. Off The Leash.”

Sartha Thrace goes away, and Hound wakes up.

It’s a very different Hound from the one that wakes in the thick of battle. Hound doesn’t growl - she can’t, not at Handler - she just makes her eyes big and looks up at her owner. Handler’s smile widens.

“Very good,” She purrs at Hound’s display of patience. Handler pointedly sets one foot forward, resting Her big, heavy, leather boot on its heel. She waits a few moments, allowing Hound’s need to build. “OK. Go.”

Hound throws herself forward and wraps her entire body around Handler’s leg. She pushes her thighs apart as wide as she can, all the better to start grinding her cunt against Handler’s boot.

Immediately, Hound lets out a desperate whine of pleasure so loud it echoes around the hangar instead of being swallowed up. Her mind goes blank. The few thoughts Hound is permitted to have vanish. Touching Handler this way makes her unbelievably sensitive. The sensation is earth-shattering even though the heavy material of her clothes is in the way. What this represents is more important than how it actually feels.

Safety. Purpose. Reward.

This is Hound’s safe place. Perhaps the only place she feels truly safe, and that’s because this is where she’s meant to be. There’s no doubt. No uncertainty. Not with Handler. Hound does what she’s told and she gets her treat. It’s so blissfully simple.

If being good for Handler is the only thing that matters, she doesn’t need to think about anything else. And this is how she knows she’s been good for Handler.

“Good girl,” Handler says, looking down at her. Handler sounds so very amused, and Hound is just pleased to be the one amusing her.

She puts her face as close to Handler as she possibly can. Her muzzle is in the way so she has to turn her head and rub it desperately against her owner’s hips. She’s desperate for Handler’s scent; that scent of leather and polish and dark perfume is infinitely comforting and pleasurable. As it fills her nose, she starts humping more slowly and deliberately, pressing hard so that she can feel every one of the taut laces of Handler’s boot rubbing against her cunt.

Hound’s whimpers start to fill out into panting, breathless moans. The exertion is almost too much for her. She was already exhausted from combat. But she won’t stop. She’d never give up her treat, not for anything.

The crowd around Handler and Hound is growing as more and more Imperial pilots gather to watch the strange ritual. Despite their lurid curiosity, they keep a respectful distance; Handler commands a great deal of fearful respect. Most of them are laughing or leering or making cruel, obscene comments to one another. Hound barely notices, and doesn’t care at all. They don’t matter. Only Handler matters.

She does care, though, when one of the pilots breaks the circle and approaches. A woman. The laughter dies away, replaced by hushed pleas for their comrade to retreat back into line. She doesn’t. Hound flashes her a look, teeth bared, although her treat is too all-consuming for her to expend anything more than a stray thought on anything but rubbing her cunt all over Handler’s leg.

The woman returns Hound’s look with a hateful glare. “How can you let that… thing do that to you?” she demands of Handler.

Handler stares at her. She doesn’t flinch, which is impressive. Handler remains relaxed, amused. “What do you mean?”

“She’s a fucking rebel!” the woman spits. She steps forward again. “An enemy.”

“Not anymore,” Handler replies calmly. “What’s your name, pilot?”

“Sergeant Meetra Kotys,” she answers. “Sir,” she adds, a beat later than she should.

“You needn’t be afraid, Sergeant Kotys,” Handler tells her. “I personally oversaw Thrace’s reconditioning. Our domestication procedures are extremely thorough. There is no risk of reversion to adverse behavior.”

Hound hears but doesn’t listen. It’s not her place to listen. It’s her place to rut against Handler’s boot like the dumb animal she knows she is.

“I’m not afraid!” Sergeant Kotys spits. “I’m fucking disgusted. That woman took down half my wing at Hebros Ridge last year. Six people in the ground. Because of her.” The pilot’s eyes are uneven. Wild. “She deserves worse than this.”

Handler takes her time composing a reply. She pushes her foot forward, pressing her boot against Hound’s cunt. Hound moans, unfathomably grateful for this gift. She keeps humping, the rhythmic, bucking motion of her hips growing steadily more and more desperate.

“The Hound and her mech are a significant asset to the Imperial forces,” Handler says eventually. Her voice is icier now. More menacing. “That is all you should need to know, Sergeant. I’m pleased you value the lives of your fellow pilots. You might consider how many more of them might have been lost today without Hound here.”

Sergeant Kotys bristles at that. With a woman like Handler, there’s an implied threat lurking behind her every word, but the pilot is too aggrieved to care.

“But,” Handler adds, pausing for long enough to emphasize her charity. “Perhaps it will help you to think of it like this: my little warhound here is not Sartha Thrace. She is not the Sartha Thrace who killed your comrades. Whatever you want to do to her, it won’t be revenge. She is not Sartha Thrace. I have made her something else. Understand?”

Sergeant Kotys’s eyes flit uncertainly between Handler and Hound as she struggles to wrap her head around that; to reconcile her anger with it. In the end, she shakes her head.

“No,” she snarls. “No. That’s her. That’s fucking her. Seen that face a hundred times on the posters. That’s her fucking face. What about her hair, huh? And her clothes? If she’s something else, why does she look the same way she always did?”

“Ego totems.” Handler’s calm was impenetrable. “A few personal touches, nothing more. A little continuity and familiarity helps to maintain a sustainable, pliable outer persona.”

Sergeant Kotys just laughs thickly. “Fuck whatever that means.”

She takes another step forward. This is too close for Hound; she rouses herself a little from her stupid rut and begins to growl protectively at the sergeant from behind her muzzle. She only stops and returns to humping when Handler rests Her hand on Hound’s head.

“How can you just touch her like that?” Sergeant Kotys demands. She is furious beyond reason. Furious enough to risk the pilot’s wings she wore so proudly on her collar. “It makes me sick. Every time we’re told to drag her out into combat I feel like I’m gonna throw up in my damn cockpit.”

Hound isn’t paying attention again. The sounds of her rubbing herself on Handler’s leg are turning increasingly wet. Her cunt is soaked, and the dark stain on the front of her pants is starting to drip.

“Feel like I’m gonna get shot in the back every time I’m not looking her way.” The corner of Sergeant Kotys’s mouth keeps twitching down. “We all do. How do you know she’s not just playing you, huh? How do we know she’s not gonna just… just snap out of it, or something?”

Handler’s lip turns upwards. “Does she look to you like she’s going to snap out of it? See for yourself.”

Sergeant Kotys looks at Hound - really looks at her. She looks at the expression of dumb, grateful lust on her face. At the metal cage strapped firmly over her mouth. At the vacancy in her eyes, and the vulgar, bestial enthusiasm in her hips. She stares for way too long.

“Fuck…” she breathes. Her cheeks are red. “I can’t believe this. This is wrong. This is the woman who… I should really just…”

She reaches to her side and draws her pistol from its holster.

A few brave members of the crowd of pilots start to reach forwards, especially when Sergeant Kotys points her gun straight at Hound. Handler seems to know something they don’t, though. She flashes them a look, and they freeze. All eyes are on the sergeant.

She moves slow and shuddery. Like Hound, she’s not uninjured. There’s a mean cut on her forehead and a couple of bruises on her cheek. She looks exhausted too, but her hand is steady when she puts the barrel of her gun right against Hound’s forehead.

Hound barely even notices. To her, it’s nothing more than a little shock of cold as she feels the metal touch her skin. A mere distraction from what actually matters. She’s in heat. Handler is right here with her. She just needs to do what she’s supposed to do. She needs to enjoy her treat.

“God,” Sergeant Kotys grunts. She sounds almost disgusted, and almost something else. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

The tip of her gun travels down the side of Hound’s face. The sergeant uses it like an extension of her own hand, dragging it heavily, callously across Hound’s skin until she’s prodding it into her cheek. The pitch of Hound’s moaning changes for a moment, but only for a moment.

“What about this, huh?” Sergeant Kotys nods to Handler as she jabs the tip of her gun hard into the side of Hound’s muzzle. Hound whimpers. “What’s this for?”

“That’s for your benefit, sergeant,” Handler replies. There’s a slight smirk on her face. “It helps our people understand her new place.”

“That’s fucking twisted.”

The expression on Sergeant Kotys’s face is so mixed it’s impossible to read. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Hound in minutes. She’s transfixed, and she barely seems aware of what she’s doing as she starts pushing harder with her gun, steadily dislodging Hound’s muzzle from where it’s supposed to be.

Even in heat, Hound can’t fail to notice this. A sudden burst of anxiety claims her. She doesn’t know what this means, so she looks pleadingly up at Handler.

“Wait.” This is the first true order Handler has given. Her voice is crisp and expectant and makes even Sergeant Kotys pause and look. Handler holds her gaze for a long moment. “She is an asset,” She reiterates firmly. “Do not damage her.”

Sergeant Kotys nods. A moment later, Handler nods too. Both Hound and the sergeant see the nod for what it is.

Permission.

The barrel of Sergeant Kotys’s gun is even more insistent now as it presses against the side of Hound’s muzzle. She’s pressing hard enough to move the metal cage out of place. Hound lets out an uncertain little whine. Her muzzle is tight enough that it hurts as it’s pushed across her skin, but more importantly, this is unfamiliar. But she doesn’t try to stop the sergeant, and she doesn’t stop steadily bucking her hips as she continues to hump Handler’s leg.

Handler gave permission.

Eventually the muzzle comes away from Hound’s face. The strap that attaches it to Hound’s head is still fastened, but it turns sideways and awkwardly hangs against her cheek. It’s a welcome relief, but the crushing pressure of the tight muzzle is almost immediately replaced by the cold of Sergeant Kotys’s handgun. She angles it slightly, wedging the very tip between Hound’s lips and using it to pry them apart.

Hound whimpers. The sergeant isn’t gentle. She butts the gun against Hound’s teeth and folds her lips up against her face. Hound can’t help but drool; she was already drooling a little from the sheer, gratifying pleasure of Handler’s boot against her cunt short-circuiting her devastated brain, but now trickles of saliva are dangling down her face and coating the gun’s barrel.

Sergeant Kotys’s expression twists.

She keeps going. She takes her time exploring, watching Hound’s face twitch whenever she moves the gun like this or like that. Everyone is watching her, as she goes ten times further than any of the other pilots would have dared. They’re not laughing now, they’re just staring, mesmerized by what’s happening.

The sergeant looks mesmerized too. She looks like she can’t stop.

Her pushing and prodding starts to turn more deliberate. Hound is panting from pleasure, and Sergeant Kotys takes advantage to push her gun deeper, forcing Hound’s teeth apart and ramming the hard, cold, metal barrel into her mouth. It slips in deep enough to make Hound choke on the unfamiliar object.

But after that, she starts sucking.

It’s what Sergeant Kotys wants. Hound can tell from the way she moves the gun back and forth, thrusting it, fucking Hound’s face. Hound doesn’t care about the sergeant at all, but she cares about Handler more than anything, and she knows Handler wants this. That alone is enough to fill her with giddy, heady enthusiasm and make her bob her head as she laps pleasingly at the gun barrel despite the acrid taste of burnt metal and oil.

“Fuck,” Sergeant Kotys breathes as she looks down at her.

There’s something in the sergeant’s eyes. Something bright, something growing. She keeps pumping faster with her gun, daring Hound to match her pace. She’s wearing the expression of a girl who's just figuring out that breaking toys is simply a special, better way of playing with them. Her nostrils flare with each breath, and the way her chest rises and falls beneath her uniform is sinful. There are a hundred ways to read what’s going on in her face, but one thing is very obvious to every single person watching.

She is enjoying this.

Hound is enjoying it too. She enjoys everything Handler wants her to do, no matter what, but after grinding her needy cunt into Handler’s boot for so long, her head is full of endorphins that make her stupid and transform anything into pleasure. And beyond that, a part of her simply loves the attention; a simple, brute, canine part of her they hammered into her head to make her more workable.

So, she has to try as hard as she can to be a very very good hound, and that means sucking off Sergeant Kotys’s gun with the rapturous adoration she’d usually reserve for Handler Herself. She doesn’t have to pay attention to the way her hips are moving, that’s automatic, so can lavish all her attention on the stiff rod of the gun’s barrel, lapping at it, drooling on it, taking it as deep as she can into her throat.

It’s still difficult. Hound is delirious on everything now - the pain, the exhaustion, the attention - and she’s trembling desperately as an orgasm builds inside her. It’s messy. Her drool and spittle form a messy stain down the front of her top almost as bad as the one on her pants, and Sergeant Kotys’s gun has been completely defiled with hanging loops of sticky, trembling saliva. Hound’s moaning is back, so bestial and lewd and breathy it makes all the watching pilots blush.

She’s close. Close to finishing her treat.

Then she hears a loud click as Sergeant Kotys flicks off the safety.

The click provokes a shudder from everyone, and Hound is no different. She glances up and sees that Sergeant Kotys’s eyes are as wide as ever. She looks capable of anything. Despite how fucked out of her skull she is, that click reminds Hound of what the object in her mouth is.

It’s a gun, a killing thing, just like her.

That thought is as exciting as it is terrible. The danger makes Hound freeze in her tracks, but only for a moment, because then her body screams at her and reminds her that, no, she can’t stop, not now, Handler didn’t say she could stop, and besides, she’s too fucking close, she can’t take it.

So she starts humping again, moans low and breathy and pitiful, and somehow it feels better than ever. It’s lightning against her cunt. Despite how insanely dangerous it is, Hound can’t help jostling the gun. She can’t remember if Sergeant Kotys’s finger is on the trigger and it’s too late to check because all she can see is white.

All Hound can do is fuck herself stupid and choke herself on the barrel and prepare for the thunderous oblivion that’s coming. Her hips have hit the point of agony but she’s rutting faster than ever, and so is the sergeant, turning Hound’s throat into another cunt with her pistol. The long piece of steel, now dripping wet and body-warm, chokes Hound’s moans, but she doesn’t care how uncomfortable it is. She just wants to explode. She wants the end. Every part of her is desperate for it, even the parts that used to be Sartha Thrace.

When it finally hits her, Hound howls around the gun at the hangar ceiling before finally, blissfully, she can let herself go slack and slump against Handler’s body.

This is as close as she gets to heaven. It’s sacred. It’s her treat. The privilege of getting to touch Handler like that outweighs anything, any potential humiliation, not that Hound cares about things like humiliation. It’s the ultimate affirmation, smothering all doubts as the indelibly-conditioned link between obedience and reward gets another notch deeper.

This is her. This is Hound. This is her purpose.

Unusually, no one is looking at Hound right now. They’re all looking at Sergeant Kotys.

She looks like she’s just cum too, even though she has not touched herself. A few moments later, her face turns, and she looks utterly consumed with disgust and shame. Then the disgust recedes and she fills with calm, but it’s a calm that glows from within and makes her fellow pilots nervous. Sergeant Kotys takes her time as she kneels down and cleans her gun on a dry portion of Hound’s soiled clothing. Then she stands, turns to Handler, and salutes.

“Thank you, sir,” she says crisply. “I think I understand now.”

Handler’s smile widens. She’s pleased with the lesson, and pleased with Hound as she starts to rouse herself from her post-orgasmic stupor and see to the task of licking clean Handler’s boots. “And what do you understand?”

“That this thing isn’t Sartha Thrace, sir,” Sergeant Kotys replies. “There’s no way Sartha Thrace would have ever let me do that.” She relaxes a little and the calm expression slips from her face, replaced with a smirk that is a mirror to Handler’s own. “We broke her.”

She’s still pushing it by speaking to someone as senior as Handler this way, but she senses - correctly - that she can get away with it. The two of them share something now. An appetite, perhaps. An understanding that her fellow pilots have yet to partake in.

“That’s right,” Handler says. “Now, sergeant, please report to my office tomorrow. We need to discuss your conduct today.”

It isn’t a threat. It’s an opportunity. Sergeant Kotys salutes again as she is dismissed. “Yes, sir!”

Handler turns next to her charge. “Up, Hound.”

Hound is so exhausted and stupefied by her orgasm that it takes her a moment to register what’s being asked of her but inevitably, she obeys. With some reluctance, she hauls herself to her feet. Handler’s boots aren’t clean yet. It’s a task that mustn’t be left half-finished.

“You can finish that later, in your kennel,” Hander instructs. She always knows what’s going on inside Hound’s head. “Now, here.”

She reaches past Hound and properly unfastens her muzzle, only so she can fix it back in place and tie it tight. The way she does it is strict, but not even slightly cruel. She makes sure not to pinch Hound’s skin or knot her hair. There’s something gentle, even loving about the way she attaches the muzzle - which the crowd of watching pilots obviously finds extremely creepy.

“There,” Handler says, once she’s finished. And then, in her special voice: “On The Leash.”

Hound submerges instantly, but it takes a long while for Sartha to truly wake up, leaving their body to sway emptily for a moment before Sartha finds her footing. Once she does, just smiles. Handler is here. All is well. Being able to bask in Her presence washes away any lingering confusion, and the aftershocks of pleasure in her own body simply add to her mood.

She doesn’t question them. She has no need. She’s with Handler.

“Come along, Sartha,” Handler says, turning away. “I need to debrief you.”

Sartha nods and trots after her so she can stand at her place, at Handler’s heel. The debriefing is important, she knows. She never remembers her debriefings, but she knows she needs them to stay good. The two of them walk across the hangar deck to the elevator, Handler’s boots clacking loudly against the metal floor. Before they leave Sartha turns back to look.

All her fellow pilots are watching her. Some of them are smiling. Some of them are laughing. Some of their faces are filled with awe. Sartha isn’t surprised by the way they’re staring. She’s used to it. It’s only natural.

She’s a hero, after all.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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