iron burns

I can feel him under my skin trying me on like a cheap suit feeling my edges and sizing me to his liking he lays me down straightens me out and leaves the iron on so I burn I burn im burning

A little more progress on the Spring embroidery. I’m starting to feel the draw towards polymer clay again. I have some ideas for fidget rings. Part of me wants to push through the hair and finish the embroidery. The impatient part of me wants to switch to polymer clay now.

I also picked up new tips for my wood burning iron. I’m trying to figure out a good design for a keychain that has instructions for the Kitchener stitch for knitting.

I came across this photo today, which was shared by Sulivan Barreto on the Confess you Rox! Group.

I absolutely loved it but on the other hand, I found this photo funny, so thought let’s comment on it a little.

- Per had too much coffee, when he should’ve slept instead.
- Marie planned not to have coffee, and considered sleeping a better option.

- Per had something really strong to drink.
- Marie had something really strong to drink.

- Per sat on a paper clip.
- Per desperately wants to go to the bathroom.

- Marie, “One more episode, then I’ll sleep”.

- Per can’t control his emotions since someone burnt his skulls n’ roses shirt while ironing.
- Marie just woke up and is least interested in the iron shaped burn on Per’s shirt.

- Per, “I like skulls because we all have skulls” *eyes wide open*.

- Marie humming The Beatles’s “I’m so tired” while being a part of this photo shoot.

Haha!

If you have more ideas, please do share. Would be nice, you know?

Love and Peace
20/3/2017

I have wondered upon occasion why brands are used on Gorean slaves. Surely, Goreans have at their disposal means for indelibly but painlessly marking the human body. My conjecture, confirmed to some extent by the speculations of the Older Tarl, who had taught me the craft of arms in Ko-ro-ba years ago, is that the brand is used primarily, oddly enough, because of its reputed psychological effect. In theory, if not in practice, when the girl finds herself branded like an animal, finds her fair skin marked by the iron of a master, she cannot fail, somehow, in the deepest levels of her thought, to regard herself as something which is owned, as mere property, as something belonging to the brute who has put the burning iron into her thigh. Most simply, the brand is supposed to convince the girl that she is truly owned; it is supposed to make her feel owned. When the iron is pulled away and she knows the pain and degradation and smells the odor of her burned flesh, she is supposed to tell herself, understanding its full and terrible import, I AM HIS. 
Outlaw of Gor

suziequtie  asked:

Send ‘◘’ for my muse to react to being straddled/topped by your muse.    

his eyes are wide, cheeks flushed with the alcohol they consumed. it’s like being held down by a paper bag - compared to his bulk, she’s nothing. but her tiny hands are like iron brands, burning, searing against his flesh and he’s w e a k.

something inside him makes him arch his neck, bare his throat to her.

submit to her.

I’ve always been good at overthinking.
The machinery in my head is constantly turning and when I try to shut it off, the hot iron material burns my hands. So I let things continue and the sounds become louder. The same words repeat over and over again: ERROR, ERROR, ERROR. There is an error in my system and the hardware is malfunctioning, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking and the oil from the machines is leaking. Soon enough, it will set fire to my head.

I’ve always been good at hiding.
Even my mother can’t find me sometimes. She’ll search for me in every room of our house, not realizing that I’m following in her shadow. I feel sorry for her, but she’s the one who taught me how to blend in. How to mold my edges and become someone else. How to be the perfect daughter, the one all her peers praise, but deep down don’t care about.

I’ve always been good at miscommunication.
My father doesn’t talk much, but sometimes I get the feeling that he’s speaking to me without words. His eyes always flicker so bright and the furrow that forms between his eyebrows is prominent. When he meets my gaze and his lips curl, I try not to flinch. It’s a smile you will never understand the meaning of. I learned from him best, how to make my silence feel like a thunderstorm, but he never taught me how to control it. I’ve wrecked places and left people homeless.

I’ve always been good at pretending.
My friends are the best audience any actor could ever ask for. They remember that it’s all a show and none of it is real. So when I bruise myself, the concept that I will forget and move on in an hour or so is something that is commonly understood. Nobody ever expects me to actually get hurt. Nobody ever expects a plot twist. I hope that the day I betray them, they don’t get too angry.

I’ve always been good at empathizing.  
Tell me your problems and I’ll make them my own. Tell me your imperfections and I’ll give you pieces of myself, if you want them. Tell me you’re lonely and I’ll be at your doorstep. God, I’ll crush my own heart between my palms if you asked me to. I’ll do anything to make anybody happy, even if it brings my own doom. I am a tragedy.

—  Some of us are written by Shakespeare 

@springdayhobi omfg ur right it’s probs a hot iron burn omghghgh and i kno right like if my boi got some time to relax n unwind with some good sx then all is well in my book i can go to sleep knowing hes a healthy boy lmao oo o o oo gosh sm people need a hobby other than taking possession of ppl they dn even kno 

Aura of Magic by Patricia Rice

I like to read Patricia’s series. I like how her story lines can weave Magic into her books. She sure knows how to blend her people together, good and bad. This is a fairly long story. We see Sir Pascoe-Ives in previous tales and meet some new people. Pascoe is sent by the King to keep an iron foundry working. It was fine until the new Earl of Carstairs pushed to bring in lower workers and get rid of the locals. Bridget is the Countress of Carstairs as her husband passed away. She has secrets that she can read Auras. There are troubles when locals burn the iron works. The Earl is handing over the Estate and turns it over to his brother Oscar. There are lots of spoilers here like Pascoe’s two twins who always disappear. Once you start reading it hard to stop. There is a lot of action going on here. Please check this book out. Don’t let it go right by you! Enjoy your reading!

Since it’s almost the middle of March, I’m gonna let y’all in on a little secret about me for when the first day of next month rolls around.

I hate April Fool’s Day. I think it is the single worst international “holiday” to exist. I despise it with, ironically, a burning passion. So let it be known that come the first of April, I will not be pulling any pranks whatsoever and the humor I share will be the same as every other pleasant day of my life. All I request is that if you partake in April Fool’s prankery, even down to the simplest rickroll, please in the name of all that is precious leave me out of it. Thank you~♪