#i’d post it but it could be interpreted as suggestive

[abubblyboo]

y’all. in this new farming simulator i’ve been playing, there’s this one rich pompous asshole who is always commenting on how dirty we are and what a lack of manners we have. he is ROMANCEABLE. and you already KNOW i’m otw to get that city boy!!!

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[forzalando]

FOUR oscar fics im about to be soo fed🤭🤭 and ahhh omg, okay. back hugs (from list b) + logan🥺🥺

LILLI my beloved💛 i hope you enjoy, i know the hug prompts weren't sleep related but it's almost bedtime and this is what happened hahaha also this was my interpretation of back hugs, i hope i did it justice! logan sargeant + back hugs and everything in between 500 words, mildly suggestive so 18+

“What are you doing awake so late?”

You quickly lifted your head off of your desk and yawned – awake was a bit of a stretch given that Logan’s voice woke you from accidental slumber, but to Logan if you weren’t in bed and snoring, it was considered awake.

“Trying to finish this report,” you mumbled. “They moved the due date up and I want to be able to travel with you this week.”

“Baby, you know I’d love for you to be there but not at the expense of your health,” he lightly scolded. “There are other races.”

“But it’s your home race,” you whined. “What kind of girlfriend am I if I’m not there to support you?”

“A girlfriend that has her own life and responsibilities that don’t revolve around me and I love you for it. Now, come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Five more minutes?” You pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes and lip jutted out in a pout.

“Absolutely not,” Logan laughed, shaking his head. Within seconds, he had slipped his forearms under your armpits and helped you stand up from the chair.

You expected him to let go, but he moved his arms down and snaked them around your waist, squeezing tightly as he guided you towards your shared bedroom.

It didn’t take long for him to start kissing down your neck, breathing you in and sighing like a lovesick fool at the mixed scent of your body wash and shampoo – so uniquely you, you knew it drove him crazy. He started kissing lower, removing one hand from your waist to pull down the back of your shirt so he could kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Logan,” you sighed, rolling your neck to the side. “Are you trying to get me to go to sleep or jump your bones? Because your actions are firmly indicating the latter.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he coughed, leaving one final, lingering kiss to your pulse point. “You just drive me crazy. No sex, only sleep.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted. “I’ll remember this, Sargeant.”

He squeezed his arms around your waist one last time, nuzzling his forehead into your back. The softness and closeness of him making you even more tired than you had been – there was something about him that always calmed you down, made you feel safe and warm. Crawling into bed, you immediately turned your back to him, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist again. It wasn’t often that you wanted that much contact while you fell asleep – Logan was a furnace and you hated sweating in your sleep, but tonight you longed for as much of him as you could get.

“I love you, don’t ever forget it,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, don’t ever forget it.”

Within moments, you felt your eyes become impossibly heavy, the feeling of Logan’s slow breaths against your neck and his strong arms around your waist lulling you to sleep.

if you'd like to request a short blurb/drabble, please see this post!

[judesmoonbeauty]

Only Look At Me CE: Nica Schwartz

*Nica is calling Kate “robin” in German. Hence, each time he uses German, I will use quotation marks to denote that going forward in the story.

** Nica is calling Kate (robin) in English for this specific line. In other words, he is using the normal (komadori).

***The translation says "opposite" of him, but context suggests Kate is sitting next to him. That's how I interpreted it anyway.

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate, so please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Dividers: @/adornedwithlight. Thank you for your support! ☾.

On my way home from submitting my report, I was stopped by an unexpected person.

Nica: Hey there, Miss.

One of the Vogel twins stood in front of me.

Kate: Is something wrong?

Nica: Actually, I got lost, would you mind showing me around?

As I nodded in surprise, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

Nica: Thanks. 

Kate: No problem, so where are you headed?

Nica: The chambers we’re staying in, you know the way right?

Kate: Of course, it’s this way!

I pointed down the hallway and started walking, with him chuckling as he followed from behind.

Nica: Meeting you here, seems like I’ve still got it. 

(I’m little wary because of what Harrison said.)

(He’s easy to talk and doesn’t seem like a bad person.)

Even though I know they’re lying somehow, I still don’t know if it’s a bad lie.

(It’s not good to judge someone before you know them.)

We arrived in no time as I walked and thought this.

Nica: Thank you for your help, “Robin.”*

Kate: “Robin”?

Nica: It means “Robin” in German.

Nica: Doesn’t Crown call you, robin?**

Nica: Hence, “robin”.

He sat down and looked at the empty seat opposite to him.***

Nica: Won’t you have a seat?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: Let’s have a chat while you’re here. I’d like to ask you about work and other things.

Despite my being nervous that we were alone, he propped his chin on his hand.

Nica: Besides, I’m interested in you.

Even though he was smiling, his eyes pierced me like someone who’d caught his prey.

As I slowly sat down, he smiled in satisfaction while calling a maid for some tea.

Nica: Well then, should I introduce myself again?

Kate: Oh, please do.

Nica: I’m Nica Schwartz, the staff officer of Vogel, an organization under the direct command of the Emperor of Germany. 

Kate: What exactly does a staff officer do?

Nica: I gather information, and support Dari in various ways by using my brains.

Nica: Details are a confidential.

Nica: Oh, by the way. You can call me Nica. There’s no need to call me ‘Mister’.

Kate: Okay then, Nica.

His smile deepened as I called his name, and then he pointed at me.

Nica: Right, now it’s your turn.

Kate: I’m Kate, a Fairytale Keeper. There’s several reasons why I got this job, but I used to work as a postwoman.

Nica: Hmm, then you’re well-informed about the roadways?

Kate: That’s right! We delivered all over London, so I could even guide you.

Nica: That’s great, next time I’ll ask you to show me around the city.

His words interrupted me as I reached for my teacup.

Nica: What kinds of things do you do as a Fairytale Keeper?

Kate: My job entails accompanying Crown activities and recording what happens.

(In reality, there’s a lot more to it than that…..)

I don’t want to say anymore than that because I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk in detail.

Nica: But you’re just an ordinary person aren’t you? Isn’t it dangerous?

Kate: The Crown members have promised to protect me.

Nica: Really….

He seemed to be thinking about something while listening to me speak, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but that feeling disappeared when his expression suddenly brightened.

Nica: You’re the verrry cute “robin” of Crown.

Nica: You’re cherished.

Kate: That’s n….

(It’s true that they treat me with respect but……)

It all started only because I witnessed them conquering evil with evil,

(I desperately didn’t want to die, which led me to where I am now.)

If I hadn’t said anything then, I might not be in this world now.

Nica: Dari probably wouldn’t like it, but it might be fun if Vogel had a Fairytale Keeper back home.

Nica: Oh, but Ring wouldn’t do well.

Kate: Wouldn’t do well?

Nica: Ring’s my twin brother, but unlike me, he’s doesn’t socialize with others too well.

(It’s true, the first time we met, he gave off a cold impression….)

While I was thinking of our first encounter, Nica looked into my face.

Nica: What, are you curious about Ring?

Kate: No, that’s not it…..

Nica: My - that’s. Don’t do that.

He put his finger to my lips, and he smiled with extreme charm. 

Then we talked about trivial everyday life, and before I knew it, the sky had turned deep red.

(It’s already that time….)

When he looked at the clock, his eyes widened in exaggeration.

Nica: Wow, it’s already this late. I guess it’s time to part ways.

Kate: Well, it’s was nice chatting with you.

Nica: Same here, let’s do it again.

I stood up, thanked him for opening the door, and was about to leave the room.

Kate: What?

He grabs a lock of my hair and places his lips upon its tips.

Nica: Until next time.

Even when my lips parted I was speechless.

Nica: Oh, did you forget your way home? 

Or do you want to stay locked up with me and not go home?

His inciting tone made me realize that I had been taken lightly.

(For Nica, this conversation was a wait-and-see thing, and if he got serious -)

-Then he could easily steal my heart.

Kate: Please, excuse me.

With my cheeks suddenly becoming hot, I started to run not caring if there were other people around.

Nica: Bis Dann (Later), “Robin”.

Before my heart is stolen by him.

As I lay on the sofa, my younger brother entered with a gaunt face.

Nica: What is it, did you get lost again?

Ring: Yeah….it’s so large that I couldn’t tell where I was.

Ring sat on a chair and sighed.

Ring: I wish I could memorize the layouts of buildings as quickly as you do Nica……

I laugh at his words.

Nica: It’s possible to get lost on “purpose.”

Tag List: @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @sh0jun @letter-from-afar

Dividers: @/natimiles [Master List]

Can't wait to tear this MF up /aff. GIMME!

[crazysnor1ax]

Unanswered things in Side Order

After finishing Side Order, unlocking all the dev diaries, and getting/seeing what I believe is all dialogue lines, I still have several lore questions that never got answered. Figured I’d put em in a post for folks to either answer or speculate about :3

Major main game and post-game spoilers below:

If Acht willingly got sanitized like promotional material confirmed years ago during Octo Expansion’s release, why does Acht suggest that they were forcefully sanitized? One of their early game quotes says that “someone or something there took [their] will away” and that they “were forced to DJ for it”. The way I interpret this is that Acht suggests they were unwillingly sanitized (their final dev diary also kind of suggests this, especially in the art), but it could also be implying that Acht’s sanitization isn’t what they expected it to be…? It could also just be a lore retcon which would suck but. Yknow.

How and why is Acht in the Memverse to begin with? We know that they weren’t there when Pearl, Marina and Eight tested out Dramatic Days in Orderland for the first time, so were they pulled in by Order? If so, how long ago? And how did Marina not know they were in there?

What’s Acht been up to in between Octo Expansion and Side Order? How long after Tartar was defeated did Acht break out of sanitization?

Relating to the above kinda, Acht says they heard a voice that snapped them out of sanitization. It’s later implied to be Pearl’s killer wail in Octo Expansion (Acht later says “I just get the feeling I’ve heard Pearl’s voice before somehow”), but the conversation where it’s first brought up (and Marina talks about developing the Memverse to help sanitized Octarians) Marina says, “…since we’re having this conversation, that means it must’ve worked!” to which Acht replies, “Huh. So that was you, was it?” I could 100% be misinterpreting this but which is it? If it wasn’t Pearl, whose specific voice was it and how did Acht hear it? Also did they regain their pre-sanitization memories back instantly or did they never lose them (I haven’t memorized exactly how sanitization works tho I know it’s explained in Haikara walker). My understanding was that Acht heard Pearl’s killer wail and it snapped them out of sanitization because it killed Tartar, but now I’m not sure.

When were each of Acht’s dev diaries/letters written? The first two seem like they were written before Side Order (implying Acht could’ve been in touch with Marina before they got pulled in), and the final one is definitely after.

How did Acht get to the surface, like their final letter mentions?

Are Order and Smollusk the exact same entity? I know they kind of are but why do they act so different? And why does defeating Order causes it to “transform” into Smollusk? Could it be that Smollusk was an AI originally coded into the Memverse but it got corrupted because of Marina and the octoling’s desire for order?

When was Order created in the Memverse dev timeline? How long had it existed prior to Pearl, Marina and Eight testing it out?

What in the ever-loving FUCK is Parallel Canon? I’m half-joking in saying that and I do like how vague it is, but is it Agent 4 or just using their soul or likeness? The fact that we get its mask does NOT bode well for 4 I think

Does. Does Marina force sanitized Octarians to go through the Spire and fight the Jelletons to get their will/memories back. Do they have to fight Overlorder at the end why are we traumatizing them more-

Why the hell did Pearl and Marina shit on 4 for no reason at the beginning of the game that was so uncalled for 😭

[howaheartbreaks]

Tried to write this on reddit but the post was too long and thought I’d throw my hand in the tumblr ring:

My interpretation on why Colin’s arc this season matters so much to me.

The benefit and the curse to this season is that to understand the full story arc of Colin and Penelope you have to watch all three seasons. I feel like they could have been more blatant in the text and given them more scenes in part 1 to completely flesh this out and remind the viewer what they’ve been through, but this is all in the text (past seasons) and subtext up until the carriage speech.

Season 1 Colin is romantic and naive. He becomes infatuated with Marina almost at first sight and still probably believes in fairy tale romances. Marina herself says that Colin is eager and does not guard his affections. Anthony has his duties as head of the family, Benedict has his bohemian pursuits, both of them are known flirts and rakes, frequenting brothels often and having had a world of experience. It’s implied that Colin is a virgin and when he proposes to Marina, Anthony scolds him for his naivety and suggests he should have been taken to brothels to be a man and “wet his wick” as if he were experienced, he wouldn’t be so hasty to marry someone he didn’t know. Colin doubles down in his commitment to Marina which then ends in tragedy when it’s revealed she’s pregnant. He understandably falls into depression as he had chosen a purpose (to be a loyal husband in love) and he had gotten screwed over due to his naivety. Colin also has a bit of hero complex, which we can see multiple times throughout season 1 such as when he dances with Pen after Cressida spills her drink. In his duty and loyalness, he confesses that he would have married Marina if she had told him the truth. Colin is very loyal and very protective of those he loves and he sees his value in how he can help and protect others, and having them need him. He makes the decision to do the thing he always wanted to do, travel, as Pen kept reminding him, as a way to become literally, more worldly.

Colin returns in season 2 and finds that people aren’t that interested in his travels nor did they particularly miss him while he was gone, the exception of which was of course Pen. He tries to speak to his family and gets shut down. He feels isolated once more and then also realises he still doesn’t have a sense of purpose, nor does anyone need him. It’s implied he is still sensitive because despite travelling, Colin is still not the man the ton expects him to be. He visits Marina in some naive hope, and she basically tells him to grow up and move on with his life. Penelope and he have a lovely conversation about purpose. He looks into various pursuits and then as we know he gets to be the hero again when he discovered Jack Featherington is swindling the ton and saves the Featheringtons. But Colin is still beheld to the expectations of the ton and when the men are finally paying atttention to him at the ball, he says he would never court Penelope in an attempt to fit in, even though we’ve all just clearly witnessed him go out of his way to save her.

Colin leaves again, and this time he vows to be a changed man. He sleeps around, “grows up”, learns how to be charming and finally when he returns is he warmly greeted by all the women and the men as the ton finally recognises him as a man. Anthony and Benedict clap him on the back, the ladies fawn over him, and men like Fife and Cho engage with him in a way we haven’t seen since he told them he wouldn’t court Penelope. He plays aloof with stories of his travels because he knows the mystery makes people more intrigued than when he told them everything (telling his family he doesn’t remember how many cities he’s been to, and then telling Pen it’s 17 because he knows the answer), and in some cases he is still not comfortable or willing to share personal details of his sexual exploits because he’s still a romantic at heart. Colin feels like he’s nailed it.

Except. He hasn’t. It’s only surface level. The cracks first emerge when he approaches Penelope at the debutante showing, going out of his way to find her (as he always does). She seems closed off and has not written to him all summer. Previously she was the ONLY one to engage him, and probably the only one he could be himself with. Yet that one connection has completely gone. This is pure speculation and unlikely to ever be confirmed, but without Pen’s correspondence it may have even been a catalyst for him to change himself/seduce women. You can tell he’s nervous approaching her, even with his new aesthetic, which he himself remarks are only clothes. She’s closed off and basically dismisses him, probably leaving him feeling a bit stupid. He sees her glow up at the ball (:o) and while he does not approach her but continues to watch her, he runs after her immediately when she runs out, in care for her wellbeing and also because he knows the conversation he is having with the lords is super shallow. She dismisses him again, and then tells him it was his grave error in trying to fit in that made him lose his one deep connection. And then he vows IMMEDIATELY to make amends, calling upon her the next day to make it right. It is his first real and honest conversation. He tells her charm can be taught (he’s faking it), that he seeks her out because she lifts his spirits (he never looks happy in a public setting unless he is with her) and that hers is the one person whose opinion matters the most.

So:

1. Colin was a naive romantic who felt like he had to conform to the approved of society

2. He is faking his true personality (shown in his heartfelt conversation with Pen, how despite everything he seeks her out and values her the most, that he lies about how many cities he’s been to just to seem cooler)

3. He is fighting against societal expectations

4. At this stage he’s still trying to have it all - the women, his family’s approval, the ton’s approval and Pen’s approval.

He goes home and is furious with Lady Whistledown because she has called out his obvious ruse, and he is upset that what he is trying to fake is so obvious.

Episode 2 rolls around and he doesn’t do much except follow her around and fawn after her. His new interests have started to fade immediately as soon as he starts speaking with Pen again. He tells her to be herself and act like they did when they were kids - which is hilarious, considering Colin has attempted to change everything about himself to NOT be himself and NOT act like an adult (the irony Colin is not aware of). It’s her compliments of his writing and his eyes that make him flustered. He entertains women and men at gatherings, but is always looking for her and physically not pleased when she speaks to other men. He laughs with her (honestly, first moment of pure childhood glee for him and he makes a pun which was reminiscent of earlier seasons Colin). He runs after her again and emotionally argues with Eloise, because damn the ton it’s Pen he cares about (my poor sweet boy). He’s so loyal and protective of her. He doesn’t even attempt to dance with anyone at these parties. Hes so distraught she could be suffering that he goes immediately to her, damn the rules of society, and agrees to kiss her and even tries to keep going before she leaves. Because he finally realises that his feelings for Pen are romantic, that it’s not just friendship that he seeks, but a true romantic relationship with his best friend.

He’s awkward and cute as he approaches her the next day, which is the complete opposite of how he’s been trying to act - she is making him act like his former self, his true self. She tells him they should keep their distance and he reluctantly puts on the armour again.

But, Colin actually lasts for like a day before he realises he will go crazy if he does not confess his feelings to Penelope and the entire facade that his has created has completely crumbled by this point - the obsessed boy is BACK. He stops talking to the women in the ton, expresses 0 interest in sex with the prostitutes, entertains a drink with the other lords before going off at them for how shallow and meaningless and fake they all are, and then commits several social faux pas pursuing Pen because he doesn’t care about anything except her anymore.

His confession in the carriage is the culmination of all of this. He’s tried to feel less (because he was too sensitive), he’s tried to grow up (and be a man), he’s tried to flirt and be a rake (because he was too green), and he’s tried to fight against expectations (Penelope not being desirable) but what is the point because all he wants and his entire happiness is centred around Penelope and if she rejected him or married Debling he would have nothing left.

Colin Bridgerton does not care anymore because he is #1 loyal obsessed protective boy and he will go through heaven and earth for Penelope and I love him so much for it.

[hedgehog-moss]

A post about Pirlouit’s debut as a noble steed! (Part II)

Our destination for this first trip on donkeyback was the nearest farm on the plateau (+ the three houses which together with it form a small isolated hamlet), to say happy new year to these neighbours. It’s not very far when I go with Pandolf because we take a shortcut through the forest and then straight across the plateau (patchworked with small pastures), slipping under every fence. But my donkey is too dignified to crawl under fences, so we had to take the road, which is a longer but also very nice itinerary. There are maybe 3 cars per day on average, but it’s a snowplough-forsaken road so in winter it’s basically zero (except the postwoman).

I wasn’t riding him at first because he didn’t want me to—I tried and he instantly stopped and turned back towards his pasture. I think he was a bit nervous about being on the road, and preferred to follow another animal. I was saying in the previous post that I started riding him in the past year, but as I don’t have a bridle for him and he’s terrified of riding crops (or any sticks), it’s hard to make him do things he doesn’t want to do (I suspect it would be hard anyway).

So my strategy has been to treat him less like a car and more like a bus—i.e. I hop on when he’s going somewhere I also want to go. My first attempts to do so were when we were at one end of his pasture and he saw the llamas at the other end looking interested in something (food?? visitor?) and wanted to check it out too (visitor = scary, but could be bringing food. Worth having a closer look.) At first Pirou was like uhhhh no and just stopped walking when he realised he had a hitchhiker on his back, but after a while he started tolerating me for these short trips across the pasture.

Step 2 was taking him on a walk (by foot) in the woods behind my house, letting him eat brambles and clean up the place along the way, and when he started showing signs of wanting to return to his pasture I’d climb on his back like “don’t mind me, live your life!” and he would grudgingly resume walking like okay, since you’re not making me do anything you can stay.

Then I started tying his rope to the side buckles of his halter so I could tug his head left or right (+ encouraging leg squeezes) and make gentle itinerary suggestions. When he was in the mood for it we could do little slaloms around trees; when he wasn’t (if it was too close to dinner time) he’d just ignore me and dash straight ahead so the llamas wouldn’t eat all the hay. (I’ve tried to explain to him that there will be no hay if I’m not here to give it, and his FOMO is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of my role in his life, but to no avail.)

He still very much interprets my tugs on the ‘reins’ and hip- or leg-based indications re: direction and pace as humble opinions from his rider that he has the power to veto since he’s the one walking after all, and I think that’s fair. It wasn’t a problem for our trip to the farm because there’s just one road to go there, all you have to do is follow it without any directional fine-tuning. After a while walking on that perfectly quiet road without coming across a single car, Pirlouit started looking more confident and I tried to hop on his back again, and this time he was like pfff okay, and kept walking :) But from then on he viewed himself as the de facto leader of our trip. His first executive decision was to walk on the side of the road, where there’s grass under the snow, rather than on the snowy asphalt—I think he worried about hidden patches of ice.

Sometimes he’d stop for a few minutes to contemplate the horizon and think about life. I figured he’d walk faster and maybe even trot once we were on our way back and dinnertime was approaching, so I didn’t mind the leisurely pace.

At one point he wandered off the road and I dismounted to lead him back in the right direction, but then realised he’d heard water sounds and had decided to stop for a drink in this rivulet. I was like “there’s a communal water trough at the hamlet but you don’t know that, so, okay.” But when we got there, the trough turned out to be frozen so Pirlouit was right to play it safe!

He also stopped every so often for a snack, I assume following the same approach of “better safe than sorry, I might never find food again.” I had a book in my coat pocket so I would read a few paragraphs while he ate. He always picked the thorniest bushes and prickliest brambles he could find. I ended up getting the feeling he was showing off a bit—maybe donkeys dare each other to eat thorny bushes the way humans do with spicy food.

I dismounted again to take a picture here because this rare, straight portion of the winding road really made me wish I had a sleigh! Imagine Pirlouit all festooned with bells too, he would hate it <3

As we found the first pasture that belongs to my farmer neighbour, Pirlouit stopped, looking mesmerised. Maybe it smelled good? He stood there for a bit like “Look! A mountain of hay bales! This road led to donkey heaven and I had no idea”

When we reached civilisation (i.e. 3 houses) I dismounted for good as Pirlouit got very hesitant. He’d forgotten the existence of houses that aren’t ours.

He was also a bit terrified by the concept of chickens that aren’t ours. He refused to take a single more step in the direction of Unknown Chickens so I ended up backtracking and tying him to a post next to a suitably thorny bush, before going on my social visits.

I used to know the farmer on the plateau because Pampe eloped to his farm a lot when she was a kid, but then he retired and sold his farm to a young couple, and I kept thinking, “Well I’ll meet them next time Pampe escapes” but she never escaped that far again! So I finally met the new neighbour (I only met the guy, his wife wasn’t here) six months after he arrived, and I explained my llama-based reason for not visiting sooner, and he basically said “yeah I’ve heard about your llama menace. I’ll be happy to meet her if she ever feels like hiking all the way to my farm again!” He was very nice. I also went to wish a happy new year to the other neighbours but only one of them was home. I left my New Year card featuring baby Poldine at the other two houses—I placed one of them in a garden gnome’s hands which made me feel like an Austen character paying calls and leaving calling cards to the servant.

Pirlouit was quiet and patient at first, but then he finished eating his shrub (I assume) and started braying indignantly. Clearly I had left him here to die of exposure while I feasted inside a warm house and it was getting late and he was going to miss hay o’clock and he was the loneliest saddest hungriest donkey in the whole world and oh, you’re here! (stops mid-bray)

He was very eager to go home before the llamas ate all the hay (again—without me there’s no—oh, never mind) and didn’t even stop to grumble when I climbed on his back again, he was like fine whatever but HURRY!, and walked at record speed on the way back. But didn’t trot, because icy ground.

He didn’t stop to contemplate the horizon and his place in the universe this time around, but I still managed to capture some lovely pink and gold skies here and there :) (and the fires of Mordor after the sun disappeared for good) (and then it got really cold and Pirou & I were united in our haste to get home.)

[lousycapy]

How statistics can easily be manipulated to fit a certain agenda in Formula 1

Hello! I’ve seen a lot of f1 fans or media sources bring up statistics incorrectly to prove their points recently, which is really getting on my nerves. So here is a comprehensive guide, with examples, of how statistics work and why they are not the be-all and end-all some people might think them to be. This is a pretty long post, so the explanations are all below the cut. With that, I hope you find this useful!

Multiple factors come into play when analyzing a statistic, so I’ve separated them in different categories: what data set is used to make the stat, how the stat can be interpreted and how being factually correct doesn’t equate a valid argument :

THE DATA SET

To make a statistic, you first need values which correspond to a data set. What said data set is made of is very relevant to the exactitude of the stat and how much regard should be given to it.

For example, to determine the average lap times of a driver over a stint you would need to divide the sum of all lap times by the number of laps executed. Which means that theoretically you could use a single lap as an average, e.g. 1:57:325/1 which gives an average lap time of 1:57:325s.

However, as you might imagine this stat is not representative of a driver’s stint, since the lap chosen to be analyzed could very well be an outlier. That’s why sample sizes matter, the more values make up your data set, the more representative of reality the result obtained is.

It is also important to know what the data set consists of. Let’s reuse our average lap times of a driver over a stint example, are outlaps/inlaps included? Is it based on clean air, dirty air? Are there laps excluded due to driver mistakes (e.g. going off track)? A stat being presented without any explanation of how it was calculated is absolutely worthless.

Finally, comprehension of the data set is very valuable as well.

Let’s imagine this fictional scenario where Ferrari makes Charles and Carlos compare average lap times. They both use the same car, on the same track, on the same tires, at the same time, for a stint of a total of 10 laps. Both drivers average a lap time of 80.125s over their whole stint, so is the conclusion that they have both done the exact same thing accurate? No!

Despite having the same average lap times in this scenario, the data set suggests a different conclusion, and different trends. Considering stints in a race are going to be longer than 10 laps, it can be assumed that Charles would average better lap times thanks to his consistency compared to Carlos, who would get worse lap times as time passes as can be observed thanks to the trend line in his graph.

2. INTERPRETATION OF THE DATA

Now that we can recognize the importance of the data set and its constituents, it is time to understand how the data provided can be used to make a statistic.

More than one answer can be correct based on the same sample of data. Despite using the same set, depending on how the data is used it can lead to different statistics that drive different arguments both being factually correct.

For example, I’d like to refer to the wonderful basspro24chevy World’s Destructor Chamionship from Brazil 24 on Reddit in an effort of determining who is the most destructive driver. Here is a chart I’ve made which also includes number of races each driver took part in (Ollie not included I was too lazy to recalculate how it affects the drivers he’s replaced’s damage bill) and the average cost of damage per race of each driver.

Based on these statistics, both arguments could be made to justify either Checo being the most destructive driver, since he’s the one who’s cost his team the most damage over the whole season, or Franco, since he’s the one who on average costs the most for his team per weekend.

Depending on someone’s biases, they could make some drivers look better than others despite using the same data set as another person, and depending on how their argument is justified even if they end up with a different conclusion it doesn’t mean they aren’t right as well.

3. FACTUALLY CORRECT ≠ VALID ARGUMENT

Even if you are factually correct with your statistic’s interpretation, and it is based on an acceptable data set, it doesn’t mean it has a direct link of causality with your argument and provides validation to the point you are trying to make.

For example, someone could argue that Checo is a safer pair of hands in races than Pierre, because over the course of the 2024 season he has DNFed 2 out of 21 races, meanwhile Pierre has DNFed 3 out of 21 races. However, the point being argued here is which driver is a safer pair of hands, and other variables than the drivers come into play when discussing those two’s DNFs.

Indeed, Checo drives a RedBull with a Honda engine, whilst Pierre drives an Alpine with a Renault engine. Out of Checo’s 2 DNFs, 2 were caused by driver mistakes. Out of Pierre’s 3 DNFs, 3 were caused by engine issues. The World’s Destructor Championship can also be used as a counterpoint to Checo being a safer pair of hands than Pierre by comparing damage bills.

Thus, instead of the conclusion being that Checo is a safer pair of hands than Pierre, the DNFs statistic is more appropriate to conclude that the Honda engine is more reliable than the Renault engine.

Which means that to make a valid argument, you need to be able to explain why the statistic presented is relevant and what it suggests. Alleviating circonstances also need to be taken into account to solidify the point being made.

For example, let’s imagine a scenario where Fernando is 1.235s off Lance during a qualifying run. To use this stat in an argument, you need to be able to justify why he was so far off. Was it genuine pace? Did he make a mistake which ruined the lap? Were they on the same tires? Was it track evolution? Are they on the same setup? Did Fernando come across traffic? Did Lance get a significant tow?

Contextualization matters twice as much as the actual statistic being presented, because the statistic without context can easily be manipulated in a way to drive a certain agenda.

4. CONCLUSION

All in all, what I’m trying to say is that even maths can be used to drive agendas. Statistics can not be taken at face value, because there are multiple factors that can influence their relevance. I hope you found this little guide helpful, and that it will help you analyze better the information you see online on how drivers are performing (or argue better with crazed fans, you do you 🫡)

Thanks for reading and have a good day!

[jerreeeeeee]

okay so i was going to post a poll on peoples' interpretations of taako & sazed's relationship but i went and looked back at the transcript of the chalice episode and i can't even post a poll because i just can't think of enough options that would actually be supported by the text?

its very very clearly a predatory apprenticeship where taako is getting free labor from sazed in exchange for teaching him, and then sazed begins to feel entitled to an equal share, at which point taako shuts him down and speaks to him in actually a pretty cruel way.

taako 'hired' sazed to be a driver and assistant and "general roadie" and i think it's perfectly fine for taako to not want him to be performing as an equal partner, but also, he was clearly taken advantage of. like sazed's proposition is an equal split of both the work and the "glory" and presumably the profit, which is a fair suggestion, but also fair for taako to turn down. but also taako was exploiting sazed's adoration in order to not pay him for his work.

i don't think that equal partnership was something taako ever even let on could be a possibility, he's pretty clear in the conversation he has with sazed that it's not something he's interested in and he "doesn't wanna keep having this conversation." its definitely something sazed really wants, but i don't think it was ever promised to him, it seems like something he's thought of that he's bringing to taako, who immediately shuts it down.

and as unfair as paying for a lot of work with cooking lessons is, it seems like that's what sazed agreed to, and it's also worth acknowledging that even though this is an arrangement i would consider unfair within my own cultural context, it could be considered completely normal and fair in faerun, like similar to a blacksmith's apprentice or something

so i guess the only questions are what sazed agreed to and why, and whether or not taako actually liked him or was just mean to him all the time. idk its all very interesting on its own let alone when compared to taako's later relationships with angus & ren, but not really open to as much interpretation as i’d thought

[sir-walton-goggins]

Kiss of Purple, Blue and Green

Summary: After a drunken night together, Arthur sees a love bite on your neck and mistakens it for a bruise.

Warnings: bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff, suggestive themes

Word count: 2,361

Ask and you shall receive. Here's a one shot of the scenario I posted a few days ago ;)

Check this out on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54854827

Last night was still a bit of a blur, pieces of it manifesting disorderly, like trying to fit puzzle pieces into the wrong spots. All you knew for certain was two things: the pounding headache that was making you wince at each sound, and… that you and Arthur Morgan had been up to no good.

You shivered in the cold morning air, pulling the blanket over your trembling shoulders as you sat down in front of the last embers of the campfire, a steaming cup of coffee in your hands to warm you up. You could tell the sweet nectar was doing its job, as you were feeling more awake already. You thanked the Lord for coffee.

But you cursed him out the very next second, because you felt someone sitting next to you and you froze, your entire body stiffening. It wasn’t nice company.

“Hello there, cowpoke!” The mustached man roared, sending a wave of pain directly to your already aching temples.

“Micah… not now” you begged, features scrunched up in pain. Turning away from him, you downed the rest of the coffee in silence.

But you knew Micah. He wasn’t resisting the opportunity to have his fun with you in one of your rare vulnerable moments. He spun you around rudely, and grinned under his blonde stache when you recoiled and slapped his filthy hands away.

“Geez, does the liquor at least make you gentler? I’d have to ask Mr. Morgan about that!” he sneered loudly, prompting you to look around, alarmed.

“What do you want?” you hissed, moving in closer to shush him. Micah’s expression relaxed.

“Me? Oh, nothing, nothing at all!” he got up and paced in front of you, grabbing his belt. “If you want the whole camp knowing what you got up to, that is.”

His stupid, cocky smile made you want to punch it off his face, but you tried to keep your composure. Micah was Dutch’s second in command now, you didn’t think it smart to attack him like that. Inside, anger was boiling in your chest, filling your gaze with venom. The mere thought of him knowing what you did (something that was nebulous even to you, and so very private) made your skin crawl. Was he in Valentine too yesterday? Did he spy on y’all?

The man approached you, lowering his voice condescendingly. This would stay between the two of you, if… you did something for him. You were sitting there, trying to interpret his ominous request, you heart beating steadily faster as you felt cornered by this damned fool.

“What is it?” you sighed, wondering if being blackmailed by Micah was worth it, if it meant your foolish actions remained concealed.

This time, he got so close you could feel his foul breath on your nose. You grimaced and tried to suppress a gag. Man, he was disgusting, both inside and out. He cupped your chin, squeezing it firmly. He had just parted his lips to speak when you heard loud, thundering footsteps get closer and closer to your position. Next thing you knew, Micah was tumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding the campfire.

“DON’TCHA DARE TOUCH ‘EM, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

You tilted your head upwards in shock. There he was, the man you spent the night with; Arthur Morgan, a man you knew for years and who you never saw lose his temper was there, fists clenched and a murderous rage obscuring his usually sweet blue eyes. A man you had witnessed murder, steal and intimidate, yet his violence always felt calculated, measured in a way, but not this time.

And it was gone in seconds. He turned to you, his fury fizzled away into a worried expression as he asked you if you were okay. You nodded, dazed, still processing what had happened.

You both glanced at Micah, who was still trying to regain his balance after the fall, wiping away the mud and grass from his pants. His expression was his usual, douchy one, but you saw the genuine panic and the fear in his eyes when he was on the ground: he was scared of Arthur. It was clear as day, from the way he kept a safe distance from the both of you, his wounded ego showing. Arthur put on his intimidating gaze and scowled at him until he disappeared into his tent.

“So, what did the bastar-“ he interrupted himself, noticing something on your neck. There it was again, the rage. You saw his face become completely red with anger as he gently hovered his fingers on your bruise, the contrast between the two baffling. You tried to think of some words to defuse him, but before you had a chance to say anything, he shot up and started yelling at the whole camp.

“Okay, which one of ya bastards did this?! Jus’ lemme find out…” Arthur snarled, quite literally growling the threat like a rabid animal. He frantically looked around for the culprit, only finding tired eyes and people still in their night clothes blinking at him, incredulous and concerned at his unusual display of anger.

“Arthur…” you tried to get his attention, but his mind was miles away from you. He wanted justice for whoever dared to put their filthy hands on your precious skin. He was pacing menacingly, glaring at the other men in the gang.

“Come out, ya goddamn coward!!” he shouted, spelling the word “goddamn” even more harshly and slowly than usual. Boy, was he angry… he was starting to scare you, too. You sat there, frozen, pondering what to do.

Javier, Sean and Bill exchanged confused looks, standing each in front of their tents. Sean was the only one who darted a look at you, and you widened your eyes at him, shaking your head in disbelief. But Arthur interpreted that differently and marched towards the Irishman threateningly.

“I’m watching you, boah” he threatened, but Sean was difficult to intimidate, and kept that dumb smirk on his face. The older man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, but Sean assured him he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Leave the boy alone, Arthur” Javier intervened in his usual pacifying tone. “Besides, wasn’t you out with them last night?”

Arthur kept his grip on Sean, but his expression softened a bit, his scrunched eyebrows trying to remember the events of last night. Little by little, it came back to him: you had been out on a mission, robbing a stagecoach, and then… he vaguely recalled stopping at the saloon in Valentine.

He let go of the kid and you sighed in relief. You approached him, grabbed his arm and walked him to the edge of camp, where you two could have a private conversation.

You thought you were hiding it well, but Arthur still noticed the fright in your eyes. He realized he had gone too far.

“I’m so sorry I scared ya, darlin’…” he apologized, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it, his eyes firmly on his feet. “That was way outta line… it’s jus’…” he gestured aimlessly, struggling to find the words. 

You took one of his hands in yours, gently kissing his bruised knuckles. You got was he was trying to say. When it came to you, all rationality went out of the window. He was sweet on you for a while now, and he was incredibly protective… this was just the first time you’d seen his feelings in action.

“I know. If someone hurt you, I’d probably do the same” you said gently, and his face relaxed into a smile.

You pointed at your neck, smiling in amusement. “This, however? All you.” you laughed, and then cracked up some more at Arthur’s sheer panic.

“Did… did I hurtcha?!” he gasped. He couldn’t stand the idea, not even for a second. It would destroy him if it was true. He’d never forgive himself.

“No, you fool!” you elbowed him in his ribs and explained that that was no bruise. It was a love bite.

“A… what?” he repeated, blinking rapidly. He never heard of such thing. You tried to explain that when he kissed your neck, he did it so… fervently, that he left a small mark just under your jawbone.

“Oh.” His cheeks lit up in a bright, tomato red and his pupils dilated in realization. You two kissed last night? He was starting to remember now…

The stagecoach robbing went exactly as planned. Of course it did: you and Arthur were a great team, excellent criminal minds that foresee every possible outcome and handle everything expertly. You made off with quite a lot of money and jewelry, so you both decided to celebrate the successful heist with a few drinks in Valentine.

“Just a couple, we still have to go back to camp to deposit the loot” you reminded your partner, putting a coin on the counter and gesturing towards the bartender.

“Of course, no crazy business tonight” the cowboy promised, downing his first shot.

Of course, you were both full of shit. The drinks kept coming, and coming, and coming, until the next thing you remember was you waking up in Arthur’s tent, his arms wrapped around you.

And there was a room… it had a bed, so maybe it was at the saloon?

“Did… did we share a room at the saloon?!” you asked Arthur, alarmed. He was staring straight ahead, hand on his chin, as the scene revealed itself to him.

He saw your exposed neck, head tilted backwards into the pillow as he peppered kisses all over your collarbone and chest, stopping at the edge of your jawline to suck on the tender skin that bruised so quickly, so easily. He heard your moans and his name repeated over and over in delight, as you went deeper and deeper, the friction of skin against skin delicious and exasperating at the same time.

He felt breathless now, his face burning unbearably in what? Arousal? Shame? Maybe both. He didn’t dare to look you in the eye, but seeing him that flustered was enough to prove to you what had happened. You did drunkenly sleep together in that room in Smithfield’s saloon. Some recollections came back to you, making your stomach flutter and your abdomen warm with desire. You saw Arthur in his entirety, remembering his touch on your bare skin, his tongue on your neck and chest, the hair a tangled mess that covered his face. His figure revealed itself in all its vulnerability, the mask of tough outlaw crumbling to reveal a tender, passionate lover that, even in his inebriated state, made sure to put your pleasure first. You silently watched him now, trying to piece together the two sides of him: the side that you always knew, and the new one that opened up to you last night.

Arthur looked back at you, interpreting your surprise as hesitation.

“You regret that, don’tcha?” he asked, an almost imperceptible note of sadness in his tone. “I do too, in a way.”

You were not sure whether to take that as an insult. “What do you mean?”

Arthur walked towards you, taking your hands in his. He lowered his voice into a whisper that covered you in goosebumps. His expression was hard to interpret.

“I regret not making our first time special.” He rubbed his thumb on your hand lovingly, smiling at you. There they were, the eyes you always knew, those breathtaking blues you would lose yourself in every day.

You tucked a hair strand behind his ear and lingered there, caressing his scruffy cheek. Arthur leaned right into your hand, melting under your touch.

“Oh, Arthur” you smiled at him, radiant. “It was special, because it was you.” You grabbed his collar and gently pulled him closer, then put your lips on his for a brief, chaste kiss.

“Nah, I could’ve done it right for ya” he shook his head, as always rejecting the compliment. One of these days you had to make him accept one, you promised yourself.

“Now I’m curious. What would you have done differently?”

Arthur took a moment to think. “Well… for starters, I wouldn’t have been that drunk!”

You chuckled. “Then, I’d book a nice bath for the two of us, with some good wine…” as he talked, he fidgeted with the collar of your shirt, resting his hands on your chest. “Then we’d have some dinner, maybe a walk… and then we’d go back to our room, to sleep in a nice, comfortable bed.”

“That does sound nice…” you remarked, almost disappointed that it wasn’t how it actually went. “Although that’s where it did end. In that nice bed.” You joked, making the man grin.  “I guess you’re right” he laughed, pulling you closer.  

“Besides,” you continued, lowering your tone, “there’s always the next time, y’know…” you purred, putting a lot on emphasis on the word “next” and giving him a playful smile. Arthur’s eyes lit right up, and he licked his lips.

“S’that so? And when is that?” he asked, his voice so deep it boomed inside his chest, so filled with desire that the warmth in you lower belly returned unannounced. Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, taking his time with it. His stubble tickled your skin, so thick and rough compared to his soft lips. You put your hands around his neck, one cupping his nape as he pushed you against the tree, lost in his affection for you.

“Get a room, you two!” you both jolted at the voice, realizing you weren’t as well hidden from the group as you’d thought. You smiled, embarrassed, watching Hosea wink at you as he walked away.

“Well, there goes our little secret, Arthur” you exhaled, laughing nervously.

“A secret? Who do ya think is responsible for pairin’ us up on every damn mission?” the cowboy laughed, pointing his thumb at Hosea’s back.

“C’mon, let’s go get some breakfast, darlin’.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, Arthur took your hand as you both went back to the group, relieved to not have to hide your love anymore.

[rabbitbandit05]

Head-canon: Mizu/Reader while on their Period

First official post for BES fandom, thats exciting!

I have recieved a few requests and have started working on them, so those will be posted very very soon! Reminder that if you have a request to please either comment or to submit an ask on my page (anonymous is on if that matters).

Ok, now getting into the actual post: Im not sure why I wrote this, could be because I was on my own period and it seemed like a fun topic to cover since it isn’t always talked about. These are all my own personal head-canons and may differ from what others think, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

I feel like Im also not sure weather to use You when refering to you, the reader, or to use Y/N, so for my first post I kept it very general (I use reader in this post isntead of 'you' or 'Y/N'. please give me feedback on this and weather you would prefer me to use something different.)

Warnings: Mentions of Blood (duh), Mensuration, and NSFW

🚫Minors DNI!🚫

Mizu on her period: 

Her periods are irregular, mainly due to her inconsistent diet and stress she is usually under

But when they do come, she can usually handle them pretty well. She doesn’t mind the blood and the pain isn’t terrible either (considering the pain she has felt before)

It does bother her though that she is slightly limited in movement and has to wrap herself either 1.) very very well so that she doesn’t bleed through or 2.) rewrap herself every other hour, which is annoying and costly of time

She also hates that it’s an indicator of her gender and one wrong move could expose her

During the worse days of it, might just stay at an inn for the night rather than staying outside (if that’s an option)

Reader is particularly attentive during this time for Mizu and is doing anything to comfort her (even if on the outside she doesn’t show that she is in pain, reader still knows she must be) 

Reader heats up water, messages her tense shoulders, ect. Really anything to ease the pain (reader usually does this, but does it more so while Mizu is on her cycle)

Reader also helps to clean her wraps, since it would look suspicious if Mizu did it herself and wasn't injured. 

Reader on Their period:

Not gonna write too much for this section since everyone's periods are different and don't wanna generalize

When reader is on their period, Mizu is more attentive for sure, and more affectionate since she understands reader is struggling a bit

Might make sure to take longer breaks while traveling, so that reader has more time to gather and situate themselves 

Mizu gives lots of hugs and cuddles while reader is on their period, especially at night when everyone else is asleep

NSFW: 

depending on weather reader is inclined to sex while on their period or not is up to readers interpretation 

If yes, then Mizu doesn’t mind fingering her partner while they are on their cycle

In fact, I think she rather likes it, considering the only other time there is blood on her hands is when someone has been killed or injured, or it’s her own blood- 

She finds it almost ironic that the same hands that have shed so much blood can also be covered in readers blood (for a good reason)-

I don’t think she would mind eating out reader either, not finding it disgusting at all

When Mizu is on her period, she doesn't mind being touched, but also doesn’t exactly initiate it 

She still views it as something to be ashamed of 

And just generally wants to ride it out before being sexual/ sexually involved with reader again (at least on her part) 

But I’d reader initiates it, then Mizu is happy to go along with it, though it’s still limited and mainly just cuddles 

Suggestions and feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading!

-Rabbittea🐰

[agatharkn3ss]

Witch references: Lorelei

As I continue having fun with finding the little references hidden all across Agatha's episodes, I keep finding lots of allusions to stories of alleged witches and women persecutions. They are just too delicious not to share and I wonder if there are any similarities we can draw between these stories and what we are seeing in the show.

In this post I will focus on the legend of Lorelei. I found her reference in episode 2, when Agatha enters her living room. There is a prominent painting on the wall to the left.

After some editing and searching I finally found it! The painting is called "The Lorelei" by Albert Pinkham Ryder.

The painting is based on a poem by Heinrich Heine:

"The Lorelei"

What is it that fills me with sadness And weighs down my spirits like lead? An old story that drives me to madness For I can’t get it out of my head.

Through the gorge, a deep river is flowing; The air cools, soon day will be done; Westwards, the cliff-tops are glowing In the rays of the setting sun.

And then, if you lift your eyes higher. You can pick out a figure up there: Her jewels are shining like fire, And she’s combing her long golden hair.

Her combing is slow and erotic, And so is the flow of her song: The melody’s strangely hypnotic, And her voice is compellingly strong.

The man at the helm gives a shiver As fear strikes his heart like a stone. He’s now blind to the rocks in the river; She transfixes his eyes with her own.

That then is the story’s sad ending. And the helmsman’s as well, I’d surmise; And if anyone’s case needs defending It is the Lorelei’s.

In her legend, Lorelei was accused of being a witch, because men lost their heads because of her. But even the priest was not immune to her charms, so he did not send her to death, but to the monastery. On the way to the monastery, accompanied three knights, she came to a rock above the river Rhine. She begged permission from her companions to look down on the river once more, to see where her beloved who had left her had gone. She threw herself from the rock into the deep, and her three companions jumped after her The cliff has forever retained the echo of its name.

So in folklore, Lorelei became an evil seductress who lives on a large rock above the Rhine River. Much like the sirens of Greek mythology, she beguiles sailors with her singing, luring their ships to destruction.

Lorelei's story is an example of a woman being persecuted for her looks, then turned into a femme fatale character, to suggest she was evil all along.

If you think about it, the archetype of "femme fatale" fits the definition of a witch to the dot - "a beautiful, and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers, often leading them into compromising, deadly traps. Her ability to enchant, entice and hypnotize her victim with a spell was in the earliest stories seen as verging on supernatural; hence, the femme fatale today is still often described as having a power akin to an enchantress, seductress, witch, having power over men. Femmes fatales are typically villainous, or at least morally ambiguous, and always associated with a sense of mystification, and unease."

I will leave it to you for your own interpretations - this could be just an homage to the women's tragic stories throughout the ages. Or maybe Agatha relates to the story because of her own experience. Or that maybe the story has some truth to it and Agatha actually has some connections with the events. It could even be a nod to the character of Rio. Who knows?...

[kazinsblog]

Thank You for Participating

With that! Yuma month has officially come to an end! *⸜(* ॑꒳ ॑* )⸝*

Thank you for all your hard work \(❁´∀`❁)ﾉ𖤐´-

I had to wait an extra day to post this due to timezone reasons XD and this post is also the reason why I didn’t say much in my Day 31 post as well, I tried to keep it a surprise.

Thank you to everyone who participated and for the kind words as well ;w;. I'm truly grateful, I didn’t think a lot of people would want to participate since monthly challenges are quite daunting. I love seeing all of your works and various interpretations of the prompts as well. It made me look forward to seeing them the next day!

I hope Yuma month was fun and everyone also had the chance to try something new! 

If you still want to draw or write prompts or give it a try some other time, you can tag me and I’ll still reblog it! I’d love to see more entries! :3 

This is also the first time I’ve held this kind of prompt challenge event as well. If there’s anything you’d think that could improved or be changed please let me know~! You can leave a comment, ask, or DM me here on this blog or on my main blog. I’m always open to suggestions :D If I were to make another Yuma event next year I’d probably change it to a Yuma Week. A monthly challenge may have been a bit too much XD (I apologize if I stressed anyone out ;w;)

Long post on the Thank you art itself and other stuff I wanna talk about

I designed this Yuma Month Thank You art based on all the prompts and elements everyone showed in their pieces. Sadly I couldn’t include all of the prompts due to the image being overly cluttered but I did squeeze in most of them.

The NDA and Makoto plushies stand out a bit because I noticed they were featured a lot in some prompts throughout Yuma Month so they get their own little spotlight as well :3c

And I thought Yuma doing a little bow is a nice way to end Yuma Month~ the design was also based on my Makoto Month prompt too XD I thought it would be a nice contrast to my last entry for Makoto month and the thought of Yuma bowing and thanking everyone is a nice way to end the event in my opinion :3c

Once again I’m super grateful to everyone who participated ;w; it really makes my day when I see you post a Yuma Month prompt. I also apologize (again) if I caused any stress or pressure to you during Yuma Month orz…

[angelmichelangelo]

emmy’s 2024 christmas advent fic!

so it’s getting to that time of year again where i’m kicking off my annual christmas advent fic! for those unfamiliar, for the past seven years i’ve posted my own advent of fanfic, starting from december 1st all through to december 25th! it’s just a fun little thing i like to do as i know sometimes the holiday season can be hard or difficult for some, and if putting a bit of fic magic into the world can brighten someone’s day then i’m more than happy to try!

as per tradition, in order to kick this event off, i’m in need of fic prompts! you can send these my way through my ask box (anonymous or otherwise) and all i ask is that they’re one worded prompts :) i like to give myself a bit of challenge on top of writing 25 fics in time for christmas so for example, you could put: “teddy bear” or “sick fic” or “birthday” — just as long as they’re one worded(ish) and not a paragraph or a full sentence of prompt, i can add it to my list!

it doesn’t necessarily have to be christmas/holiday/winter themed either! whatever you’d like me to try my hand at, send it my way and i’d be more than willing to try!

i’ll be writing tmnt fic so if there’s a specific iteration you’d like for your prompt, just add it next to the prompt. or, leave it up to my own interpretation! whatever floats your boat! i will write for any and all tmnt verses so everything goes! :)

i look forward to doing this every year, with the added bonus that at the end of it, i will be donating £25, £1 for every fic posted, to a chosen charity. if you have any suggestions as to what that sound be, please do also feel free to send me some links and ideas! (i know that £25 may not feel like a lot but its about as much as i can give and its better than nothing)

you can send me as many prompts as your heart desires! i try to kick this off as early as i can so i can accumulate 25 prompts and then find the time to write them so the more the merrier!

for anyone else that wants to play along, feel free to do so! when i have all the prompts, i would be happy to share them with anyone that’s wanting to have a go also! there’s no obligation to finish all the prompts — just a bit of cheerful fun for what isn’t always a cheerful season for everybody.

so please do send in your prompts to my asks, again, you can be anonymous or not and send in one or a hundred (that’d be impressive if you did lol) i’m super excited to get this started!

[spitdrunken]

im fascinated to know more of your thoughts on the winter king! Your first post and ideas were fantastic. If its okay I’d like to know about any kinks, suggestive, or overall possibly dark concepts you may have on his views/relationship with the reader! Like a continuation of some sorts of your first post! (Could be male reader or gn)

I will just write down some general thoughts here :')!! I'm glad to know you would like to know more of my ideas. I'll just start of with some NSFW headcanons I definitely have for him. These are just the main ones tho, I also have some somewhat extended petplay thoughts for him that I didn't put here.

notes: public / exhibitionism, CNC mention.

After being under the crown's influence for so long, Winter highly values the feeling of being in control. Especially in an intimate act such as sex, he'd want to at least feel like he's the one leading, at least the first couple of times. If he really, truly trusts you, he would be more willing to let you dom him. Based on some of the things Ice King says in canon, I do personally think he has a submissive side- An inclination for it, even, which is a remnant of Simon. His own experiences have shaped him to suppress any of such desires, though!

Winter does not shut up during sex. He's very, very talkative, constantly praising or teasing you, and describing how he's feeling! It's going to take a lot of pleasure to try and get him to shut up! Even when he's going cross-eyed with bliss, he's still babbling his needy little worlds. It melts his brain quicker if you're human, though. Your natural body heat would enhance the experience incredibly for him.

He's an exhibitionist in every sense of the word. Winter would get a lot of satisfaction of getting himself off in front of you, making a show out of it, but not allowing you to touch! He wants to see you squirm and shake with need for him so, so badly. In general, he'd try to have sex in, like, every corner of his palace. He assures you that his subjects, if they happened to walk by, wouldn't even be able to comprehend what they were seeing, much less talk about it! And if you'd let him, he'd absolutely just fuck you silly while having an audience in his throne room.

Oh, he just loves all kinds of roleplay! And if you indulge him, he will truly go all the way, with preparing costumes and lines of dialogue. It all sounds straight out of a cheesy porn, sure, but he's having the time of his life. He'd favour scenarios with darker undertones, and would be very interested in CNC if you wanted to try it out alongside him. Though he tries to ascribe any and all desires of the Ice King to the past, away from himself, he really wants to act out a kind of scenario where he's kidnapped you, his prince(ss)...! It gets him all kinds of giddy. Or anything else where he has an excuse to make you call him 'my grace / liege / King'.

As for any darker thoughts! Feel free to disregard these from the above if you aren't into it, btw. warning: emotional manipulation, dubious consent / noncon, depending on interpretation

He will try to guilt trip you into sex, if he wants to fuck you. Winter hasn't had sex in nearly a century, (....he doesn't count the times he's had encounters with Candy, the few times that has happened. He would label those moments as mistakes.) and a part of him is selfish enough that he just feels like he deserves it. He's put so much time and effort into trying to sweep you off your feet, got you food and a place to stay, plus everything else that you could desire! His hints will turn more and more thinly veiled, his touches lingering more and more. Dear, hasn't he done so much for you? Won't you be willing to indulge him, just this once? He's certain you'll enjoy yourself with him, he'll make sure of it! It's horrible, really, but Winter is simply not a very good person.

If you continue to deny him for long, he might create a mindless, stupid ice clone version of you, that's basically just a cocksleeve for him. A version of you that cannot deny him, and is always happy to be stuffed full of his cum. In all honesty, it lacks in comparison to what he believes the true experience to be like... It only makes him needier for you, in turn.

[seaglass-posting]

Arid - Rafayel/Reader

Pairing: Rafayel/Reader

Rating: Explicit - MDNI

Categories: F/M, Other

Warning: Not very healthy relationship dynamics. Spoilers for Rafayel's first myth story.

Rafayel tries to steal the heart of Philos, only to realize that he's fallen into a trap. __ In which an impromptu summoning of your beloved companion takes a heated turn.

CROSS POSTED FROM AO3 with an added blurb :)

Rafayel holds a dagger to your back even as you embrace him without a care in the world. How long could he keep up this facade of loving you, or rather, when would he finally be able to love you with no pretenses? He shouldn’t feel guilty when you stroke his head and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He shouldn’t feel the need to tear your heart from your chest when you place his hand over it. 

“Do you hear it? It belongs to you,” you murmur, holding him closer. When you shift your body, Rafayel discreetly moves his dagger away from you. You draw patterns into the leather on his clothes with your finger. “I don’t want to stay here. Whisk me away.”

“Is that Your Highness’s wish?” He replies, his voice muffled through his mask. You hum in contemplation. Like a genie in a bottle, you don’t know how he would interpret your wish. 

“I think I shall decline. You could fulfill my wish anyway you want to see fit.” You assume his silence means his confusion. “For example,” you drag a finger down his back and then splay your hand on a spot, “you could take me away from this world.” You move your face closer to his ear. “You could kill me.” 

He stiffens up and you laugh. “I jest.”

“How amusing,” he says, his tone falling flat. “Your life is no laughing matter, Your Highness. Many people need you to stay alive.”

“So what?” The words come out bitter. “I can think of a few that deserve to die.” 

“Such behavior is unbecoming of a princess.”

“I was never one in the first place.” You had always resented the role. One day, you woke up with no memories and were suddenly hailed as a god. You were their precious princess, forever stuck in her tower. 

You glance over your room in boredom. Colorful jewels glint in the sun, but they look dull to you. Maybe you’ll ask Natasha to fetch new ones from the market. The fine sheets beneath you and Rafayel feel like burlap, rough and irritating. Time to change those out for new ones. “I would like to feel death one day,” you muse. “Perhaps that is my wish.”

Rafayel gasps and almost drops his hold on his dagger. Your behavior today was different, stranger than usual. “What is with you today?” He moves away from you and somehow slips it back into its holster when your attention is elsewhere. Did you catch him in the act? This had to have been a bluff. His palms are sweaty.

(Even if you did notice its sharp blade on your spine, you wouldn’t have made your reaction known.) 

“I’ve been feeling odd these days, Rafayel.” You begin, your knees now pressed to your chest as you stare out of your window and onto the horizon. “I wish to go to the sea.” You turn your head and look at him, finding his almost too intense gaze on you. You hold it. “Would it be strange of me to say that I’d been dreaming about it?”

He doesn’t reply. There’s no warmth in your eyes. “I’ve only known this place. I don’t know what lies beyond these city walls. Tell me a story, Rafayel.”

Once again, he asks. “Is that Your Highness’s wish?” You wave a dismissive hand at him. You can’t see the smirk under his mask. “Very well. But I ask that you pay utmost attention.”

“When the world was an ocean, there lived a kingdom below the tide. It was ruled by a benevolent, but mischievous god. By his side was his knight. She was bound to him by an oath to protect her liege, no matter the cost.” The tone in his voice suggests something sinister. 

“The people were happy and the kingdom was thriving. They cheered for the god of the sea when he passed by. They called his knight a hero.”

“But the god had fallen in love, you see. For someone who could hardly be serious, he had been moved by his knight’s unwavering devotion to him. And for someone who granted the wishes of his people, he failed to ask the one next to him.”

“‘What do you wish for?’ The god asked. ‘Ask anything, and I shall grant it to thee.’ The knight hesitated. Someone like her should have a wish dedicated solely to her liege, but that was not the case. Would he be disgusted by her desire? Her heart quivered.”

“‘I wish to know what lies beyond the sea.’ It was his heart that wavered next, as he realized that his knight’s desire was to go away. This was a wish that he could not grant.” You shift uncomfortably, but he pays it no mind and continues his story.

“‘I’m sorry,’ said the god. The knight shook her head, neither angry nor disappointed.” Rafayel moves closer to you now, admiring the way your breath hitches as he draws nearer and nearer. 

“‘Do you wish for my heart?’” He asks.

You don’t know whether it’s a question for you, or another line in the story. You don’t give him an answer. You touch his mask and this time, he doesn’t move away when you remove it. It falls between you, and he quickly flings it into a forgotten corner before descending upon you.

It’s warm, you think, almost unbearably so as you kiss him back feverishly. It feels right when he brings his leg up and hikes up your skirt between your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair and he groans when you tug on it, earning you a bite on your lower lip. The heat continues to rise as hands roam to pinch and caress. It’s a losing battle for the both of you. He grinds his knee against your throbbing heat and you keen into it, moaning his name loud enough to make him hush you.

“Quiet, Princess.” Hearing your title used this way makes you shiver. It doesn’t go unnoticed as he smirks. “We wouldn’t want anyone to barge in would we?”

“The guards would be horrified to hear that an assassin has come for me,” you tease back and tug on his hair a little too hard, making him hiss. “I’m no fool, Rafayel.” Somehow, he didn’t realize he was missing his dagger until he felt something sharp against his back. “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done so already.” 

His entire body trembles in delight. Rafayel could easily twist the dagger from you and pin it against you. You could also very easily drive it into him. “You’re good,” he says breathlessly and is on you once again. 

This kiss proves itself to be more intense than the last, and it makes you drop the dagger to cup his face, dragging him impossibly closer. It falls somewhere but neither of you pay it any mind as he flips you over and seats you onto his lap. You can feel how hard he is through his pants, and you grind your hips into it. Two large hands still over your thighs as you brace yourself on his shoulders. He’s so hard it almost hurts, but he doesn’t want to go further. Not until you say something.

“Give yourself to me,” you command as you try to grind into him again. You can feel him throb through both of your clothes as you chase after his heat again and again. 

“At least allow me to take all this off,” he whines a little and the power that rushes through your veins is addicting. You roll your hips again. You don’t care that you’re practically seeping through your underwear and ruining his pants, not when you can feel a wet spot where his tip should be anyway. He moans and moves your body in sync with his as he rolls his dick into you. “You sure are bold for someone who’s leaking.” You give him a withering smile and say nothing while you rub your clothed clit against soaked leather. 

It’s almost too much and not enough as you use him for your own pleasure and seeing your selfishness sends him reeling. His pants are too tight. Despite all the open windows and the evening wind settling over you both, it’s still impossibly hot. He slips his fingers through the band of your undergarments and you laugh as he tries to peel the damned thing off you. You can feel something rise in your core when he rips it off you, baring yourself to him. “You brute!” You laugh but get cut off with a moan when your naked core brushes against his cock. The friction hurts which only brings closer to the edge.

“Are you close?” He whispers into your ear, his voice husky.

“Please,” you beg for who knows what. He looks down to see how puffy you are and you watch his throat bob at how wet you are. You arch your back and your toes curl into the sheets. String pulled tight, you pant into his neck and bite down on whatever skin you can get your teeth on. He moans loudly, and he would be embarrassed by the fact if he hadn’t found it so pleasurable. His reaction sets you aflame when his hips stutter and then still against you, his legs weak and shaking. 

You move even more frantically, leaning back to rub rapid circles around your clit as you chase after your own orgasm. Rafayel is a dazed man when he looks at how you clench around nothing, mouth slightly agape and practically drooling to get a taste. The intensity of his stare and the humiliation that comes from exposing yourself like this is almost too much. 

He lazily palms himself through his pants. He’s still hard despite cumming just a few moments ago. He groans your name, your real name, and it sends you over the edge. Your entire body is set aflame and then put out with cold water. Your pulse throbs against your neck as your pussy convulses. You feel dirty but the way Rafayel looks at you makes you the most beautiful girl in the world. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your voice hoarse. “I…” You slowly reposition yourself into a comfortable spot and look away from him in shame, but his hand cups your chin, forcing you to look at him. You gulp down your lust and guilt. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You were wonderful,” he says breathlessly and places a small kiss on your lips. You don’t kiss him back. There’s no regret on what you just did, but there’s a deep ache in your bones telling you that this will all end in tragedy. 

It’s another step towards the abyss that you yearn for but are too scared to walk into. This life is normal, you think, it’s all you’ve ever known. Rafayel silences those thoughts with another kiss. Yes, as long as you find comfort in his warmth, then perhaps that’s all that matters. You wrap your arms around his waist, still bathing in the afterglow. “I’m sorry for pulling a knife on you,” you mumble and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I did it first,” he replies. You give him a strained smile and playfully push his chest. To be honest, you find it incredibly attractive that your life is in his hands, and with his reaction, you can tell that he feels the same way. Your mind wanders back to his story, realizing he never finished it.

“Did the knight take the heart?” You’re lying on his chest now, drawing patterns in it and admiring the sewing on his clothes. The stitches are neat. 

“She did.” He’s combing through your hair with his fingers and you appreciate the slight scalp massage. You have more questions on his story, but his tone suggests that it ends there. Rafayel pulls you up onto his lap again and kisses you slowly, his lips searching for your breath. “Focus on me, Your Highness,” he whispers. You nod, acutely aware of how naked you are. 

“Take off your clothes,” you command and he chuckles before taking off each layer one by one, making a small show for you. You take the time to admire his physique and face. His usual garb makes him large and unapproachable, but when you see the tips of his ears turn red, you smirk a little. You have him wrapped around your finger. Your eyes trail further and further down and you gulp as you follow his slight happy trail to the outline of his cock. You wonder if it’ll fit, and a perverse shiver of joy runs along your spine. 

“You look like you’re going to eat me,” he stutters a bit.

“I might if you don’t hurry up.” You retort and shift onto your elbows, your white robe falling off your shoulder. He watches the way it catches onto your breast. Just a little more and… “I’m waiting, Rafayel.” You interrupt his gawking and cross one leg over another. A flash of your mound makes him gulp and unceremoniously removes everything else into a heap of clothes. He climbs onto the bed and steals your lips once more like a man starved. He kisses you like it’s his first and last. 

The weight of his cock presses against you and you both breathe a little harder at the heat. “Are you sure about this, Princess?” He has you caged beneath him while your hands are laced behind his neck. You look down and blush at the sight. 

“J-just be careful,” you reply and wiggle your hips, but he clamps them still with his legs, making you pout. “And hurry.” The head catches onto your entrance and you almost yelp if it weren’t for Rafayel silencing you. 

“There’s still guards out on patrol. We wouldn’t want our dear princess tangled up with an assassin now, would we?” He inches forward and you both groan around the stretch. “You’re so tight.”

You moan out his name. His self-control wanes, but he doesn’t move until you nod your head, slowly getting used to him. Your walls ache to fit all of him inside but pain mixes with pleasure to form a tight ball in your core again. Panting, stretching, you urge him to move with a roll of your hips, making him hiss. “I’m fine,” you whisper breathlessly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It’s too hot. You think you’re going to melt. Slow thrusts somehow stretch you even more and you move your leg up to get more of him in. The noises that spill from your mouth set your face aflame as you try to control them. You can feel your orgasm rise in your body as you try to plunge yourself deeper on his cock, relishing the sting that the stretch brings in. Your nails leave angry red welts on Rafayel’s back and there’s no doubt that he’ll make fun of you for it. For now, though, he’s almost too excited at the meaning of the marks–he’s yours, forever and always. 

When finally, finally, he’s pressed to the hilt, he slows down to rub the tip of his cock against you and you almost cum from the stimulation. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he does it again and Rafayel groans at the sight. “You’re filthy, Your Highness,” he teases, but his voice reveals that he’s just as affected as you are. For what feels like forever, he continues this movement. Rolling his hips into you, his pelvis grinding against your clit, your combined juices soaking the sheets beneath you. It is positively filthy, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

He holds you in his arms while you try to hump into him but he has his hands on your ass to stop you from moving on your own. Bringing your hips down one last time, he finally moves again at a punishing pace. You clutch his shoulders to stop yourself from falling, but you fear that it’s already too late. Your cunt aches around him as you try to hang on for dear life. The bed whines under you and you try not to think about the fact that you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast.  “G-good, Rafayel, so good…!” You moan into his ear and the praise makes him shiver in delight, making you smirk as you continue to sing his praises and tug on his hair.

The scrape against your walls feels too good and he’s rubbing against that spongy part of you that has you seeing stars. “You’re so–hah! So tight,” he babbles. Rafayel is positively drunk on you as he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his tongue searching for yours as saliva dribbles down your chins. The squelch of your walls fills the room as you kiss heady, muffled moans into each other. His big hands are still on your ass as he moves your body in time with his thrusts. You don’t even need to think. Why would you, when all you can feel is him? Your clit rubs against him and it’s almost raw from the friction.

He’s losing himself and using your body for your own pleasure and it makes you feel filthy, but you find that you don’t really mind. Rafayel has left marks all over your neck, and you’ve left long angry red welts on his back in response. You hang onto him while he fucks into you, your thoughts only filled with his cock bruising your walls. “You’re so good,” Rafayel pants out, but you’re too far gone to hear him say it. “You’re so warm, I’ve been waiting for this, wanted this for so long, ngh…! So fucking tight!” He presses into you and stills, grinding himself into you and relishing the way your walls flutter around his cock in response. He continues thrusting after that, but slower this time as you try to catch your breath.

“Too m-much, it’s too much,” you repeat as he goes in deeper. Overstimulation is catching up to you but he can only laugh. He’s a cruel lover, you realize, as he picks up the pace despite your whining. The coil in your gut is wound tight, and it’s when he rubs that spot just right is when you finally cum. You grip him like a vice and he lets out a strangled moan as you try to swallow them with a kiss. He’s fucking you through your orgasm as he babbles and cries about how tight you are, how good you are, and how much he loves you. 

“I’m gonna, gh–! Your Highness..!” He tries to pull away to not accidentally finish inside, but you smile devilishly and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him back in. “You–!”

“It’s fine, Rafayel,” you try to say but the edges of your vision are going black from how intense the pleasure is. Your ankles lock over the other as you try to meet his thrusts with equal fervor, but the adrenaline is slowly running from your body. “If we have children, then we’ll just have to get married, right?” You manage to joke but you feel his cock twitch from it. You laugh. “O-oh god, you want that, don’t you? You want to get married? Have children?” You hiss out and smirk as you say this. “I belong to you, don’t I, Rafayel? You’ve ruined me for everyone else, so you have to take–Fuck–! responsibility.” Your toes curl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, another orgasm building. You can feel something wet on your neck and you realize what it is.

“You’re crying?” You tease him further and he lets out a pathetic whimper that sends your blood boiling. “Do you want me that bad?”

“Yesyesyes–! Princess, please,” Rafayel sobs as he bites your shoulder. “I love you, I love you, I’m yours,” he rambles, “I’ll take responsibility, ngh, I’ll do anything for you, please!” He’s rutting desperately into you, pressing into your cervix deeper and deeper until he yells your name out. It’s the first time he’s ever said it, and the shock of it sends you reeling as you milk him for all he’s worth. Heat spreads throughout your core as he finishes inside you, and there’s a deep satisfaction on your face as you relish in the feeling. He’s sniffling now, and you pat his head, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Your body is already starting to ache now that the adrenaline is bleeding from you, and you sigh as he pulls out from you. The sight of cum leaking out of you is seared into his mind, but when he looks at your face, you’re staring out the window, seemingly unaffected. 

He is laid bare before you, mind, body, and soul. Your robes, your room, your life, this beating nuisance in your chest–none of that is yours. But Rafayel, dear foolish Rafayel. Was he always this weak to love? You don't know, but you are sure of one thing. He's yours. For once in your life, you have something that wholly belongs to you.

“Did you mean everything you said?” You ask plainly, leaning your head back as you gaze upon the empty sands. Your face is unreadable. 

“O-of course I did! Does Your Highness think so lowly of me…?” He tries to look at your face but you don’t bother to even turn your head as you look at him, bored. His heart falls. “Is everything alright?”

“More than fine,” you reply, tone too neutral for him to relax. “It was good.” You sound very serious. 

“Just good…?”

You shrug. He frowns. Did you really mean it? “It was good,” you repeat. Your fingers trail to your leaking cunt and scoop up some of the cum, pressing your thumb and middle finger together as you watch how it strings between them. Uninterested. “We should do it again. I do not know if this is enough to get me pregnant.” You have him wrapped around your finger and you both know it. You feel for your heartbeat and wonder if you’ll ever find it. You want to ask Rafayel if he could search for it. 

He looks like he’s going to cry again and you smile serenely, opening your arms to embrace him as the tears flow. A Lemurian’s tears are precious, and you realize that he might be your greatest treasure. “Would you prove your love for me, Rafayel?” You coo and place a soft kiss on his cheek. Despite the warmth between your bodies, none of it reaches your voice. 

He should pull away. He should shove himself off you and tell you that you’re being ridiculous, that you’re being too cold, that he wants a response to his love. But he can’t. Rafayel isn’t brave, and so he sniffles while you soothe him, allowing himself to give in to your poison that is your kiss. 

The dagger lies on the floor, and so does his heart.