#rice crop protection

[farmerstrend]

Study reveals invasive Apple Snail could spread further in Africa

New research led by CABI and including the Kenya Plant Health Inspectorate Service (KEPHIS) reveals that the invasive Apple Snail – which threatens rice crops – could spread further in Africa. A team of researchers from CABI’s regional centre for Africa in Nairobi, working with KEPHIS, suggest that South West along Tana River, Western Kenya and areas coastal areas are suitable for Apple Snail…

[extinctionstories]

Two hundred years ago, the wetlands of Japan rustled with pink-tinged feathers. Tall, pale birds stepped carefully through reeds and iris, hunting small fish, crabs, and frogs. 

Nipponia nippon, it would be dubbed by the national ornithological society, a bird emblematic of its country. The Crested Ibis. The Toki. The Peach Flower Bird.

Marshes slowly changed to rice fields, with farmers who resented the toki for ruining crops; to kill the birds was outlawed, so children chased them from the fields, singing warnings.

The doors of the country were pried open. Laws changed. Farmers bought their first guns, their sights set on birds who were no longer protected. The toki, the red-crowned crane, and many others began to suffer. But the worst was yet to come.

Pesticides are indiscriminate killers. The poison sprayed to kill a beetle can travel up the foodchain, toppling a cascade of larger animals, or affecting their ability to reproduce. It was reckless pesticide use that nearly wiped out the Bald Eagle. In the rice fields, the peach-flower-bird had little chance. 

In 1981, Japan’s last five living toki were removed from a wild that had become too dangerous for them.

I tell a lot of sad stories here, about mistakes we’ve made and animals we’ve lost. This isn’t one of those. This is a story about one of those precious times when we were able to fix the things we’d broken. 

A joint effort between Japan & China, and the discovery of seven more birds in that country, led to a successful breeding program, which in 2008 saw the first ibises fly free again in Japan. Today, at least 5000 toki exist in the world.

The last wild-born toki, one of those captured in 1981, lived almost long enough to see her species’ return. Reaching the equivalent age of a centenarian human, she died in 2003—not of old age, but injury after throwing herself against her cage door. 

Her name was ‘Kin’. ‘Gold’. 

Mended things can never be as whole as they once were. There will always be cracks that show, weak spots that remain vulnerable. Yet, like the shining seams of a kintsugi piece, these scars speak an important truth: here is a thing that someone chose to save; handle with care.

The title of this painting is ‘Restoration’. It is gouache on 22x30 inch watercolor paper, and is part of my series 'Conservation Pieces', exploring the effort to preserve endangered birds.

[moonbeammist]

The Peasant's Secret (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. taglist from Part 1: @aoi-targaryen

I don't give permission for any of my fanfiction to be posted, this is also cross posted on my account w/ Archive of our own :)

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey! l'm excited that I continued this. Honestly, couldn't get it out of my head until I did. I really hope you enjoy it, feedback is most welcome. New readers, read Part 1 for context and character, if not, this can be read as a solo fic too 💖

WARNINGS: (Adults only 18+) DARK! profanity, extreme violence, torture, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation, light smut

Feyd is at his most sadistic - please mind the warnings. I really wanted to explore that in writing because I feel it's such a big part of his character. Honestly Dune Part Two inspired the hell out of me, and looks like I'm not the only one judging by some of the brilliant writers on this site. Thank you for inspiring me too.. I poured everything into this.

SUMMARY: As a rice-harvester hailing from Planet Caladan, you knew these things to be true. You and your people were "peasant scum". And as far as you can tell, peasant scum deserved a shot at the vast unknown as much as any noble folk did. Even if the only thing protecting you is a flawed battle-tactic and the falsehoods that you tell yourself. Even if it has you riding a wave into the wicked evils that lie.

WORD COUNT: 10.3k words (yes it's long, but enjoy the ride, take breaks, ect.) ❤️

PART 1 PART 2

It’s scalding, the black ebb of the sun in Giedi Prime. But you are well hydrated and fed.

Previously, when you were aboard the ship with Count Fenring in the depths of space, he made sure you and the small group of rice labourers that stayed behind were treated. Various platters of eclectic fruits, aged cheeses, proteins, and beverages were presented before you on a wooden table, the Count encouraging the hesitant Caladan rice cultivators with a wave of his hand. Almost in unison, they dived for the food at his proclamation, knives and forks clashing. You couldn’t tell what animal you were gnawing on as you slobbered it down, only fixated on filling the hole of anxiety that grew, every so slowly, deep in your belly. You volunteered to be here on the basis of... being Harkonnen entertainment, mixed with a blind, selfish jump into the illogical.

And for what?

So you don’t deserve to feel this uncertainty. You did it to your damn self. Wanting to prove... something, anything. What that was exactly you couldn’t pinpoint, except a growing need to see yourself capable of a different path than the comfortable life you grew to know. Your mother’s words came to you again, flying through the vastness of the galaxy.

“You should go.” A pause. “Live for us.”

Her words spread through you like a viper, a sliver of hope returning to you.

You’re covered by the dark canopy of the nestled burrow underneath the stands of the large dome-like arena, filled to the brim with Harkonnen porcelain heads. You can see a partial view from here—a small peek, but enough for multiple stark heads to pop through. The hard, black metal doors were closed all the way, save for that small crack. Their starving, needy chants are ear splitting to you; you can hear them all around you in these walls beside your fellow fighters. Here you are, like a feast for them—ripe, hot-blooded, and ready for the taking. 

You keep your hair cropped short just under your cheekbones for battle, falling messily over your face in a choppy cut. The length made sense under these circumstances.

Last night, after filling yourself with food and beverage and thanking the Count on the ship, you pushed your way past the other passengers to the ship’s restrooms with slight impatience, a mulled over idea that has been eating at you finally coming to the forefront. Seeing your hollow, adrenalized eyes in the mirror, your hand reached to your thigh, brandishing the emerald handle of the small blade you were given as a courtesy. Unlatching it from its leather harness with a click, your arm juts out to swipe your tresses away, the ends falling like a blanket on the floor. You did not need to make yourself a target on the hairless planet, that is for certain. Not like this, not so obviously. 

They can already see what you are, you know.

Your conscious crows at you, and your teeth come out to play with your bottom lip, chewing it. That’s not why. When you were shoving food down at the table with your fellow people during mealtime, you received a more in-depth, private discussion about Giedi Prime and House Harkonnen’s culture and traditions, along with a long spiel on the opponent you and your fellow peasant fighters would be privy to facing. 

The Count’s voice was almost a warning to all, and you could’ve sworn his eyes rested on you too many times for it to be a coincidence. Obviously, being the opposite sex in the Harkonnen arena is going to come with a target on your back. In Giedi Prime, usually, they had a target on your back no matter what, but they usually fell into four prime categories: pleasure slave, handmaiden, visiting Bene Gesserit, or noblewoman. And obviously, they’re going to make out by your form, that you’re not a big, burly slave-gladiator. But some type of amateur, dodging, slave-gladiator nonetheless.

The issue is that you don’t want the nephew, that psychopathic nephew of the Baron—Feyd-fucking-Rautha grabbing a long mop of hair and whipping it around the arena like a toy, a rag doll. And you don’t want something as silly as hair being used as fodder against you, like a joke. You had gathered the length of hair in the disposable bin, cleaning up the mess on the marbled floor in finality.

You glance up to catch yourself in the mirror, and your pulse quickens. You run your fingers through your short locks, the pieces framing your face. You feel renewed, refreshed.

You feel more like yourself than ever before.

The guttural melody seemed to increase in speed across the walls underneath the arena, bouncing off the ground. You could feel the voices, deep in the earth, the soles of your feet vibrating against your boot. You peered into the backs of the heads of your crew. You knew that your time was getting closer. Uneasiness, but also a slight giddiness that shouldn’t belong, bubbled up within you. 

Why?

The small group of men that you came with from Caladan were also branding themselves as inexperienced rice labourers. As men, it was common for them to get in spats or tussles about gods-knows-what. They had experience in that sense. For the fairer sex, all you had was your mother’s encouragement to take an interest in the art of dodging, the defensive battle strategy known as "The Peasant’s Secret." There weren't many ladies, as far as you could tell, who were following suit. They had more important things to register, like feeding their children, you mused. The peasant men were taught it too, as they weren’t permitted weapons, armour, and the like. But it didn’t seem like they held it in high regard as often as you did. They practiced being on the offensive with their knuckles for light fun, with a masculated zeal. You questioned why they were here, as it would seem they dared not want anything else than an honest day’s work, being able to daze upon the fields with a wife warming their bed. But you wondered if the few that came grew bored of their mundane life and little free time, and were willing to put themselves on the line of fire today like you. 

Stupid, silly peasants you all were. Couldn’t just be happy with what was given to you. Couldn’t just lay your head down on rice grain forever. 

Just wanted a small hit of dopamine to the psyche, it would seem.

Without notice, a speaker made himself known above you—and it must have been from the very top, the very perch of the arena. The Baron of House Harkonnen’s rough voice pummelling into the pits below. “Citizens of Giedi Prime, and most welcome visitors,” he began. “We have quite the show for you today, most definitely... Count Hasimir Fenring has brought with him mere-" he pauses to chuckle as it reverberates through your mind, and you make a note of his happiness. It already confirmed what you knew to be true.

He continues. “Rice harvesters from Caladan who would like to join in on today’s festivities. Mind you, they volunteered their time here as well, so we shall see what they have to offer.”

A more ominous-sounding laugh is heard.

“How exciting, dear nephew, for you to enjoy this treat. Some low-born entertainment as a warm-up. We shall commence shortly.”

The audience chanted their sick appreciation at this news, their cheers echoing across the skies.

You gulped your saliva down. A warm-up, yes, of course. That makes sense.

It’s here. You’re here. Pacing, jumping up and down, in your murky, brown cloth. Amping yourself up.

Tight, tattered dark brown shorts adorned your knees, with strings tying the garment in place at your hips. To counter that, a long, light brown quarter-sleeve tunic swamps your form, belted at the waist with a large buckle securing it. Under the belt, the bottom of it is cut into two sections, split right down the middle, revealing your shorts in a fashion with athleticism and movement in mind. It’s lightweight and loose, allowing your bindings and skin to breathe in the hot weather.

In just a moment, the doors to the arena pits would open, and you would face the deviant that awaits. But you would not be alone. At least in the beginning. 

You turn to glance beside you at the men accompanying you. The men stood beside, in front, and behind you, their large frames slightly swarming you. You briefly imagined them emerging into the arena like some low-born three-course meal for the Na-Baron. You wordlessly prayed that you would not be considered a part of the appetizer.

“Come,” a man you knew by the name of Rexen, threw his arms around your shoulders and jostled you out of your ponderings. His hair was a deep black, matching his unkempt brows and scraggly beard. His face was warm and friendly, and his stare was earnest. “Join us for a moment.”

You walk with him a mere two steps before he gently pushes your body forward, and your eyes take in the slight change of everyone’s chest now visible to you. Your home planet’s men’s faces rapt with attention on each other. They are now huddled in the formation of a small circle. Rexen leans forward, and you follow suit, huddling even closer into the group, shoulders touching.

A glow of comfort envelops you, a piece of home.

“We are not a skilled people,” Rexen graciously offers, his head dipping low as he mutters this. His eyebrows raise as he anchors his head against yours and the men surrounding. “Most of our people did not want to be here. But for those that remain, we need not concern ourselves with why we are here. Just that we’re here to put on a show, for the holier than thou fucks.” He grins at his quip, his teeth slightly yellow in colour, stained from poor hygiene. Laughter emits from his chest, and the men barrel with much-too-energetic laughter for the situation.

You feel bizarre. You definitely came with the... what would you call those with no regard for their own self-preservation? 

Lunatics? 

But chillingly, you find yourself chuckling along with them, joining them in their message. Joining their showmanship. You’re here after all. That makes you one of them. You grin ear-to-ear as you laugh along with the men.

Something breaks you out of your glorified stupor. You hear a muffled chant just outside the doors. A pause. They were speaking in syllables. 

“Feyd-Rauth-Ah!” Again. “Feyd-Rauth-Ah!” And again. “Feyd-Rauth-Ah!”

Before any of you have a chance to compose yourself, the doors behind you slowly split open, and you eye the entrance to the arena with a spike of endorphins settling like butterflies in your stomach.

It unfolds, unlatches, and stretches out.

Until you’re cast in a perfect halo of light, the bleak colour seemingly burns your eyes for a moment.

There. It’s adjusting.

Your eyes adjust to the toxic atmosphere once again. You now have a more personalized viewpoint of what is to come; your perspective now shows a closer point of view of the arena as you break away from your fellow fighters and shakily take one step forward to the substantial crowd. The energy in the crowd shifted considerably to a higher plane, and you can literally feel the noise cover you in a blanket of sound, and you’re vibrating. You don’t turn to pay attention to your peers as they slowly spill out of the doorway.

The guttural native tongue of the Harkonnen boomed through the air, the announcer’s voice telling a story with his words. It all became white noise next to your thrumming heart.

At the opposite end of the arena, it’s... him.

His bleached, ghostly white silhouette sauntered several yards away with a slow swagger. The distance dwarfs his form slightly. Black on black. Everything he’s wearing is black, jutting out from his body to clearly signify a plate of armour atop his chest, ribs, shoulders, and legs. A combat suit absolutely made for battle.

The good news was that his skull and neck, seemingly attached by his bulging shoulder plates, was exposed. The sight of his hands clutching two considerably large Crysknives on either side of him made you pause. His wrists jumbled up and down, playing with blades.

Moving in an angular motion, you make a beeline for a darker area along the arena wall. You now notice your companions are already scattered all over the arena, the restlessness in their scurried steps now known to the sole Harkonnen. You’re sure he can smell them from where he is, and you want to perhaps blend in with the wall for a bit while you plan your next move.

He hasn’t noticed you yet as he charges forward, the speed in his steps like lightning.

You quicken your pace to the side of him, against the wall, out of sight as he spots a single peasant man squaring up to challenge him.

Your gaze is transfixed on them as you continue to walk backwards to the wall.

Feyd-Rautha is closer now, towards the centre of the Arena. The way he moves is like a freight train, all at once, and not a single part of him is apologetic for it. Your friend, your... companion, who had his head pressed to you moments earlier, had you clenching your teeth in anticipation at his first swivel around Feyd-Rautha’s Crysknife. The man ducked, barely grazing Feyd-Rautha’s blade as it sliced through the air. You hear a deep, grovelling chuckle, the sound making you freeze. It’s alien.. It’s so, so deep.

He doesn’t even sound real.

You glance at him while side-stepping, grateful his attentions are on the burly man’s arms flying at him like a circular typhoon. The man was already so tired; he was slowing down.

Feyd-Rautha exhales, curving the Crysknife in an upward motion, pushing it to the hilt, the squish of the male being impaled hauntingly audible. “That’s the spot.”

Like a caricature of doom, the voice of the man had a guttural, raspy quality to it. So low but with an unusual lilt at the end of his words.

Feyd-Rautha grabs the man by his shoulders and flings his heaving body to the ground, removing his painted red Crysknife from the man’s gut.

He barrels onward, heading further away from you, his eyes lit aflame.

You cannot deny that you’re in shock at the raw energy, but you take several breaths to calm yourself down, reminding yourself you just haven't ever been in an arena before. This is how it goes. Randomly, your back collides with something warm as you're breathing in and out. 

Jostled, your breath hitches as you whip around at the feeling. 

A clicking sound speeds up at your collision, erupting from a black, horned... genetically modified something.

God knows what that is, but you knew by its circling movements it was there to service the arena as its handler, keeping a watchful eye. There seemed to be another one roaming where Feyd-Rautha was, to your far left.

You raise your hands up, hearing the clicking intensify in warning. “Apologies.” You nervously laugh, wondering if it even cared for your apologies at a time like this.

You hear yet another man falling to the ground behind you, your gaze darting to the sight of him rolling, trying to swerve the absolute onslaught of the animal standing above him.

All your planning and all your battle-tactic calculations were lost in the wind, it seemed. It didn’t matter anymore because you were so fucking nervous.

No, it’s okay.

A small voice inside you encouraged.

You need to utilize “The Peasant’s Secret” in front of this crowd of evil eggheads, even if it’s not perfect.

You feel cracked mentally to even be joking to yourself at a time like this, but the fleeting sentiment is all you need to feel better. It was time to give yourself some grace.

You glanced at the horned handler once more as it retreated, before facing the savagery you knew you needed to keep your eyes locked on... Rexen, the man who pulled you aside earlier, was moaning in agony, his eyes bloodshot. You felt a fluttering sensation in your stomach. Alone and gushing, flowing, a stream of blood spilled out from his sopping open wound into the arena pit.

You remember his joyous remark that he was going to put on a show as you watched the life drain from his face.

You feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, like something in the air has shifted.

A BANG��snaps you out of your reverie.

Isolating the noise, you lock in on it. There, now dangerously close, a looming presence carefully studying you. Feyd-Rautha’s hard, deep stare. He was standing a few feet away from you on the right side of the arena wall, his leg kicking at the wall animatedly. 

BANG

He hit it again, and as he finished, his armour-clad legs seemed to click together. His pale face was plastered with a delighted expression that met the depths of depravity. As your gaze flickered over him, you noticed an open mouth, a row of black teeth, the shade of the darkest midnight, smiling in glee, seeming to be proud of his announcement.

“Just a few more of the rodents,” he sneered, his eyes gleaming with giddiness.

You hold your breath in fear, stopping all at once. You know making a move right now would be foolish at his proximity.

“Did you perceive yourself to be out of harm's way?” His rasp quipped. 

You consider him, swallowing a jump in your belly. Unnerved by his misplaced enthusiasm. 

You brace yourself, standing at attention, before lowering yourself into a bent stance. The choppy pieces of your short hair fall into your line of vision as your head dips to the ground, trying not to let his overbearing nature shake you.

He doesn’t seem to move from his place as his gaze flickers over your movements.

Those black teeth. You were strangely fascinated by the ghoulish sight of them.

You’ve heard rumours of it being akin to a status symbol, perhaps even a fashion statement in Harkonnen culture. A custom of extreme wealth, beauty, and high influence.

Aristocratic customs are among this absolute cruel and humiliating gore fest. The irony of that was enough to make you thankful for being low-born and poor, minding your business. For all that you represent, at least you weren’t delusional in your value.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You greet, nodding solemnly, bowing your head from your battle-ready stance. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Perhaps paying your respects to him before the battle would lessen his aggressiveness, if only a little. If you didn’t mindlessly yell and charge at him without thought, like the others.

He cocks his ghostly bald head, black mouth agape, seemingly taking you in. You briefly wondered if he was flashing that blackened mouth at you like some sort of superiority complex.

“How curious,” he murmurs. “The peasant wishes to exchange kind words before I run them through my blade?” His eyes glitter with something primal.

His sick jab makes you scoff inwardly, but you ignore it.

“On the contrary,” you begin. “I’m merely doing the honourable thing. Are we not battlemates, despite where I come from?” I pause, letting the words settle. “Like those of higher status you have fought before?”

I taste the words on my tongue, knowing full well the act may be futile.

Feyd-Rautha’s black teeth open wide with jest. “Mmm, that is what it would seem...” He nods at you. “The honour suits you.” 

You pause, realizing that he was paying a compliment.

His eyes darken like decay at once. “But you are a plaything, peasant. A pathetic thing for me to slice open and drain.” He tuts and slowly strolls towards you. 

You can’t help the shock that appears in your face at his grotesque words.

“But don’t worry, maybe I'll go a little longer with you.” He emphasizes the last word, a dark promise. His voice was laced with subtle mockery.

He’s put some sort of magnetic spell on you as you stand there, dumbfounded. His face no longer looks friendly as he advances on you, a demonic expression gracing his features. 

Fuck.

You jump back, reeling. You’re already failing, and you’ve got to get away, away, away fast. 

You shake your head at yourself for letting more than a few moments of speaking pass between you two. That was indeed useless. If anything, it seemed to make him crazier.

He charges at you with ferocity and a face devoid of emotion. 

This time I will move.

You let your secret instinct envelop you naturally, closing your eyes.

Dodge. Bob. Weave.

Just in time, and he’s snarling. “Rah!”

His black teeth lurch towards you.

You suddenly swirl your body slightly to evade the attack, his Crysknife missing you by mere inches. You jump backwards, not by a lot.

“Run first.. If they are fast enough, begin your dance.”

Your mother's words about the steps of your teachings sneak into your senses. That’s going to come off cowardly to someone like him. Weak. You don’t care. He didn’t know the hidden ways of the ‘lesser’ people of Planet Caladan.

You bolt, legs pumping with renewed investment in your life. The sand seems to give your shoes just the right amount of grip to propel you. You don’t bear to look behind you, afraid of what you may see, but know he’s at least giving chase.

You zip by yet another man, his neck whipping to watch you run. He feels like another stranger among the men who died, like he’s already sealed his fate.

But you presumed. You did not give the man grace. Like you now give yourself.

The man is living now, unchained. In his most honest form.

You crank your head back momentarily as your feet are hitting the sand. You instantly regret it, your breath catching in your throat. Feyd-Rautha is hot on your heels; his snow-white face is terrifying. His nostrils are flared, and his deep blue irises are lit with enthusiastic vigour. Your eyes widened as his blackened mouth was clenched in malice.

There is still a sizeable gap between the two of you. In a sudden move, you see the flash of the man before, in a blur—he’s purposely throwing his body towards Feyd-Rautha—and Feyd is so intently fixated on you he can’t stop the audible grunt that escapes him when your fellow peasant barrels into him with the strength of a bull.

The movement is so out of place that you falter slightly, side-stepping mid-run, your eyes glued to the man who decided to make use of his body as an obstacle. They hit the ground with a hard slam, the sound cracking through the thick atmosphere of the planet.

What is seen before you resembles a dogpile—the man’s large body attempting to restrain Feyd-Rautha’s snarling form, the man’s back gyrating like a hunter holding down a rabid howling elk.

You softly gasp at the mere seconds that went by before Feyd’s blade ground upward deep into the man’s guts—you could hear the sound of insides sloshing, emitting a horrifying, piercing scream from the man. The lack of care was evident as the man was thrown to the side like common trash.

Feyd-Rautha sits up, crimson staining his face like a splatter of paint, his face contorting, mood soured.

You silently thank the man for his sacrifice. It dawned on you that he didn’t do that for himself, but for you. A way to slow down your enemy’s predatory chase. 

Thank you. Your deed today will not go unnoticed, my good man. I shall make a shrine in your honour when I’m through with this animal.

Your eyebrows draw together, and trepidation rings through you as you put a bandage on your reality, cushioning your frantic thoughts with comfort.

You make quick work to paddle your legs from side to side, transfixed on the Na-Baron’s body, using the horrific situation as leverage. You started to do slow, measured side-skips around the man, smart to not use all of your well-preserved energy right away. You couldn’t risk disabling yourself to be slow, but you could be at a good, neutral pace right now.

While he was down. Which wouldn’t be for long.

Feyd-Rautha exhaled hastily as his neck craned towards you. Something akin to a cool, unfazed demeanour washed over his previous frantic behaviour as he allowed himself to engage in a moment's respite. 

“Let’s see you now, you pompous little rodent. Your street-gutter ally was desperate to save you... Caladanians, hm?”

The message was clear now.

You bit your tongue, not lowering yourself enough to respond brashly to his mean-spirited words. Oh, the man was loathsome. But you will engage him. It will allow you to learn more about him.

You already know enough. He’s a deviant, a sadist. What else do you need?

You need to concentrate. You won’t respond brashly, but you will plant seeds of doubt in his mind, if you can.

“Caladan has brought me many things, Harkonnen.” You begin, slightly slowing your skips around the arena as you speak. “It is a vessel of life that your planet seems to be drained of, quite frankly.”

His pupils expand at that.

“Harkonnen?” He stands then, rolling his neck, and you hear a pop as he adjusts his broad torso, his blackened mouth suddenly upturned in amusement as he studies you. “What happened to Na-Baron? Is it not to your taste anymore? Is it because I hurt your heart?” 

He motions towards the crowd of bodies littering the ground. “Did I hurt your gutter tribe?” His rough voice taunts like a menace, as his eyes sparkle with a sort of dark mischief as he laughs at that.

You swallow, biting back enragement.

“You did, Harkonnen.” You agree solemnly. “But what does it matter? Don’t you treat every untrained, unprecedented fighter the same here?” You pause, seeing his deep blue eyes flicker with interest. “Unskilled fodder to fuel your own ego?”

The air was tense, and his calculating eyes seemed to consume you during the silence. He cuts it then, with a breathy, deep cackle.

“Oh, so she has a mouth,” he sneers. He shocks you by darting towards you, his black armoured frame like a thick smog, coming to ingest you. 

He inches closer and closer, and you make the decision to roll out of the way, your body tumbling to the side of him.

“Smart, for street filth. It will be quite a shame when you’re crying under me as I bloody you that you’ll be fodder for my ego.” He mocks chillingly, his cruel words eliciting a spike of nerves within you, but you’re too focused on evading him to let it show. You see him use his Crysknives in short, brutal swifts as you roll quickly.

His Crysknife whips down, but it stabs the ground, Feyd-Rautha not accounting for your multiple movements of barrel-rolling.

He barks a laugh at that, and you hate the sound of it. He pulls out the Crysknife with a rough grunt, and you stumble to your feet.

You’re fast, and you can see that his eyes are trained on you, and he’s smiling. Oh god, that mouth of blackened tar is smiling.

Running away from him again felt more freeing this time, like you were in control. You knew that you could actually keep up with his antics. You were prepared this time around; you two were alone now. Your fellow peasants' bodies are disrespectfully littered at your feet, and it makes you angry.

“Why is she running?” He called, his guttural voice reaching you as you reached the end of the arena. He was talking to you in a strange way, like you were somewhere else, not present in front of him, like a mere object.

You ignored him, and you briefly remember your small blade, strapped under your brown shorts, the strappy harness hidden. You needed to tire him out. That’s your first mission. Tire him out to the point of exhaustion.

Although hesitantly, you knew he was fit and athletic. A powerful, driven force. How exactly you were going to do this remains a sight to be seen.

He growls and chases you like a huntsman, around and around and around. Every time he managed to get in proximity with those two sharp, deadly blades—

Your body moved, just out of reach—like a python. 

You feel pride flow through you when, half-way through another lap around the arena, Feyd-Rautha stops, catching his breath. You’ve managed to get the Harkonnen to audibly pant, and what’s more, he’s crouched over, hands on his knees.

So you decide to waste even more of his energy.

As you begin to run backwards, facing him, you cup your hands around your mouth, sucking in air as you prepare to yell. You call to him, drawing his attention to you.

“Tired, Feyd?” You drop the second half of his name, and it feels more personal.

He huffed, springing up in an instant at the sound of his name spoken so comfortably from your lips.

You couldn't bear to look at his mocking, ghoulish face transfixed on you from several feet away. It sent a deep wave of uncertainty and thrill through your very being.

His ebony mouth gaped at you. “Such gall, from someone who’s been fleeing this entire time. Is that what you came here to do?” 

You swallow hard. Mind reeling.

“I came here to—” you began.

Feyd-Rautha cut you off, an outpouring of snideness laced in his voice. “It matters not. How long do you think this is going to last you, peasant?” 

Your confidence is slightly faltered, but you speak without thought. “It lasted me this long...” and your voice trailed off.

He chuckled darkly. From this proximity, you can see his eyes swirling with a foreign emotion you couldn’t place.

Yes. Your body moved like a python until it didn’t.

He lunged at you, jumping with a prowess that was so quick you barely managed to get out of the way. But you did, feeling his blade slice through your tunic, your abdomen. You let out a hiss, and you’re jumping backwards, regaining your momentum, away from him, and you’re flying mid-air.

But he somehow matches your stride, leaping forward. He snatches the fabric of your shorts, using that to grip you as you are smashed into the battlegrounds by your leg.

The wind is knocked out of you as you land on your stomach, and a sound emits from you that you’ve never heard. Adrenaline flowing through you, you attempt to get up but the heel of his boot digs into your back, pushing you back down, your form collapsing and you sputter, breathing hard - You hear his body drop into the pits behind you, the dust flying into the air in front of you.

Feyd-Rautha pins his entire chest on the small of your back. The weight of the man has your mouth tasting the bitter, dry pallet of the sand. Your face prickles as the sharp grains sting your eyes, crushing your nose and mouth; the pain is excruciating. 

Fuck, if he doesn't get off me, he's going to break my nose.

You let out a feral cry as you tried to move underneath him. His arms hold you deeply into his chest, the plates of his armour digging into the ebbs of your spine.

In defence, you attempt to curl your body into a turtle stance, protecting your front, which is where you are most covered in bruises from your fall. You can feel him all around you, his chest heaving up and down. His breaths are deep and disgruntled; sometimes they don't sound human.

His heavy arms start to slowly pry your arms open from cocooning yourself. He could do anything he wants at this moment if you don’t get him off.

It's no doubt he's much bigger than you, and although you were countering him in speed a while ago, his masculine strength keeps a steady hold on you. 

You start to shake as you flex every bit of muscle you have, your body vibrating in tremors as he continues to pry your arms away from your body. You continue to try holding onto the fabrics of your tunic, still convusling as you fight his hands, trying to pry away your self-made cocoon.

In patience and in your countering movements. You find your strength in your resilience. You remind yourself that you feel powerful in that, at least.

I still have my grit.

"Tough," He jeers, and you’re aware of his chin now digging into the little nook of your left shoulder; you don't even have to look back to know he's grinning from ear to ear. His thick armoured legs tighten around your smaller frame.

In one quick movement, he wrenches your struggling arms, your nails digging into the wartorn fabric that covers your body. You are still holding on, but barely.

Your voice comes out in a passionate screech, ripping from your throat when he shoves your arms behind you so that your elbows are touching, his pale fingers clasped around them.

His muscled, battle-born thighs tighten around your hips.

You thrash against him. "No! NO!" Your scream falls out of you in a high hilt. The pain is searing, like your arms are going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t want to protest this loudly to him of all people, but he’s forced you to. You’re at his mercy if he manages to dislocate them.

"Yes," he grunts, and you don’t know if he’s responding to you or himself. "Who knew these little arms could hold such force?" The questioning lilt in his rasp went up several levels.

Since your elbows are in his grasp, he has your torso tilted towards the sky of the arena, the black sun baking into your tanned Caladanian skin. 

You hear the deep chanting of the crowd, pulsing through you like a hymn. A smear of colourless shapes moving up and down. All you see is white spreading into your eyelids—your vision is pure, crystal white. Your head lulls back as it rolls back onto his wide shoulder.

And what he utters next is truly alien.

"Let me see those eyes, Caladanian." Feyd-Rautha croaked. It was a gruff, choked sentence, like it slipped out of him by accident.

What?

A weird feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, flip-flopping at his words.

For fuck sakes, the sick fuck is getting turned on by this. Harkonnens..

A silent weight hangs in the air. And for a moment you both don't move.

A flood of emotions wells in you, like an electric charge.

Albeit in pain, you take advantage of the changed atmosphere.

Your knees are trapped, stuck together like a sweaty mass between his thighs. Your head that was stagnantly leaning on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder now aggressively dips down and slams up into his face, head-butting him and taking him slightly off guard.

Feyd makes an animalistic noise, and something changes in his face.

He smashes your skull into the sand, and you desperately claw at the air, gyrating your body like a sandworm. The impact stuns you, and your vision runs fuzzy. Your brain feels like it's splitting. You see green, blue and pink hues. Strong hands are felt touching you, shaking you out of your reverie.

With feverish disgust, you realize that the Na-Baron is kneeling at your back, hovering over your form.

You feel his palm pat. Once. Twice. Thrice. On your mid-back. He rubs your heaving back in a mock-soothing gesture as you gasp inwardly, sucking in the polluted Geidi Prime air like it was your last time breathing, feeling the air barely satisfy you, feeling like you didn't have enough.

"That has to hurt," he purrs. His hand is warm on your back, rubbing. Your eyes widen with horror.

You cough, hacking now. Taking long, deep breaths. If you could just...

He continues rubbing, and you're glued to the ground.

Your chest betrays you and continues to huff and puff audibly, he must hear everything. It’s screechy, your lungs are burning. His hand movements somehow relax you, which may be considerably fucked up. He hums, satisfied, deep in his chest, the sound making you stare at the ground in confusion.

He stills his caring hand on your heaving back and glides it to the base of your neck, plunging your head into the sand, again and again, not giving you any leniency now.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Your head is concussed, sending short, stabbing pains like a tidal wave to your brain.

You flail wildly, kicking back and upwards, your shoes colliding with his body.

He scoops your short locks in one fluid motion, your scalp searing at the sensation. He removes the grip on your hair to fully cradle your face, whipping you around to face him. Your body is limp, nearly falling to the ground, save for your face firmly held in place by Feyd-Rautha.

"Up we go, no sleeping now." he remarks darkly as his gaze settles on you.

Your throat is bone dry, your lips so swollen and puffy from the gushing blood flowing out of your nose. It's definitely broken this time. But you're numbing out now, slowly, and every so often you see those beautiful, vibrant colours again, shimmering despite the bleached atmosphere. It's such a miraculous sight that it makes you smile dumbly... you're finally happy.

A stinging SMACK knocks your face to the side, and you falter in his grip, eyes widening.

Your shock quickly transforms to frustration as hot, angry tears spill from your eyes.

"Fuck you!" And you violently shove your thumbs into his eye sockets, filled with rage. You dig in with all your might.

Your intrusion makes him stumble, and you both messily fall over. Your body falls into his broad chest, the armour knocking against your worn clothes. By now, the rags have slits all along it, from your near misses with Feyd's blade.

You knock him over onto his back so that you're straddling him, your hands sinking into his eye sockets.

His eyes are fucking gleaming now with delight.

"Yes. Take my vision. End me now." He heartily begs, and his mocking face is seemingly drinking you in, in admiration, despite your thumbs digging into eyes. It’s like he can see past them, and you shiver involuntarily.

His hands and Crysknives lay at his sides, in a strange display of submission. You can see the black teeth behind his lips, widened with glee.

His enthusiasm under these circumstances made you pay far too much attention to his face and miss his ulterior motives.

As you’re about to increase the pressure even more, a Crysknife appears in your vision, like a figment of your imagination—before it’s buried to the hilt in your upper thigh.

You cry out, shrieking, throwing your head back in agony.

The sudden onslaught makes you fall backwards in pain. His blade is still buried to the hilt, tendons throbbing. Only the handle is sticking out, like a thorn in your tendons.

Pulling the blade out right now would be a risk to cause further damage to your blood vessels and nerves. This would lead to rapid blood loss. You couldn’t do that right now.

Immediately, you move. You start to drag yourself—by instinct, fight-or-flight, you don’t know. 

You grit your teeth as you manage to find the strength to reach inside your thigh for your hidden blade, letting your hand grasp on the emerald green handle, pretending to cradle your injured thigh.

You keep it there as you continue to drag yourself.

"You've impressed me a great deal," Feyd-Rautha rasps. The unusual deep raspy tone reverberates through your eardrums somewhere above you.

Something inside you quivers at the revelation.

You know it’s best not to believe any of the drivel that spews from his mouth.

Curiously, he’s standing there, the white of his eyes veiny and visibly red from the press of your thumbs a moment ago.

Playing with his now singular Crysknife, tapping his fingers along the stretch of the blade—making no move to attack you. 

Then a thought occurs to you. Feyd-Rautha wanted you to survive. Butchered and bloody, still barely hanging on. He wanted to see you at your emotional breaking point. Writhing and begging for his mercy, begging for your life. The sick fuck derives pleasure from it.

So you say the complete opposite of what he's expecting.

"I want to die," the level of your drawl is barely heard over the crowds chants and shouts booming through the stadium. And you wonder if he can hear you at all.

You drag your aching body towards him, the hidden knife in your hand still clenched thoroughly, stapled to your inner thigh. Your eyes feel raw, chaffed with sand, burning. They flutter as they try to remain open. But you use your eye muscles to slowly turn your face upwards from the ground, eyes searching for his.

"I want you to hurt like I hurt," you carefully fabricate your trembling voice, peering up at him behind your full lashes. Testing him, you spit vehemently on his black boots, emphasizing your point.

The sheen of it glistened in the black and white atmosphere, slightly outlined in a pinkish hue. You're determined to feast your eyes on him, to look as enticing as ever. You use your tongue to push the blood out from inside your mouth, in efforts to trigger his bloodlust. Blood dribbles down your chin onto the murky pits, stained from you.

The world shifts as you take your chance.

His black mouth opens wide in a gleaming smile. His interest is piqued.

"Oh," he coos. His pale hand suddenly darts out to grasp your dribbling face. "What a magnificent sight."

His thumbs trace along your bloodied chin. The fresh blood stains his fingertips, and you couldn't place the emotion that was there. Wide, perplexed eyes settle on you. His mouth was not upturned, but in a hard line. His orbs were staring right through you. 

The seriousness of his mouth with the stimulated look in his eyes unsettled you. "Look at the blood of this fighter." He croons.

You pretend to struggle with rapid head movements to dislodge your head from his grasp. He only holds it there tighter. Now you show off your crimson stained lips, pouting in dismay.

Guard down.

He leans down, looming over you as he studies you. As you initially remembered, his ebony armour suit covered his body in an efficient way, everywhere except his ever-exposed face and neck.

His thumb moves from your chin to your full, battered lips.

You make your eyes as pathetic as possible, pleading. He tilts his head in fascination, and you beg.

“Please..”

You feel his thumb stutter on your bloodied lips at the sound, and his eyes blacken at once.

Bingo.

His enraptured pale face is the closest thing to you, and you don’t waste a minute before plunging the blade into the skin of his cheek, tearing through the flesh.

He roars, and you think the blade nicked his teeth as you hear a click.

There it is again: the change. His smirking, bemused face is wiped clean and replaced with a demonic, empty expression. 

You’re suddenly gathered in his arms, and he slams you against the nearest arena wall. You struggle against him, shouting your protests. His forehead presses to yours—your heartbeat pounds. His magnetic probing eyes are otherworldly as they obliterate the world around you, and it’s claustrophobic. 

You writhe and shake in fear, doing everything in your power to throw him off you. You punch him in the nose with a crunch. You punch him again in the face, sending it reeling. Your other hand chops aggressively at his cheek, downward, your palm bruised by the handle of the blade, wanting it to rupture. But all he does is laugh cruelly at you, his eyes glinting.

He withdraws the blade out of his cheek, tensing as he does it. You hear it hit the ground with a clang. He then grasps the handle jutting out of your thigh, wrenching it out.

Your muscles scream. But your voice doesn’t, in shock. He whips the blade away, throwing it to the side.

His tar-like mouth is drooling saliva and blood, panting into your shell-shocked face. Drool hits your chin as devious gaze envelops you, forehead digging into yours.

Your eyes glaze over and your belly flutters at that, mind completely wiped.

Blood begins to trickle—no, outpour from your wound.

You struggle to hold your balance, barely propping up your form.

He falls to his knees then, using his hands to steady you, snaking his arms down your calf. He stops on your ankle, wrapping his pale fingers around it, his other hand clutching the heel of your shoe.

Your blood runs ice cold. You whimper.

“Hush," he coos. "This is what happens when you volunteer to get slaughtered, rodent." 

He grasps your ankle, and turns it sharply, the movement emitting a sickening snap, the pain is ice hot, the guttural scream ripping through your chest emits such a frequency...

That the crowd goes silent.

"Oh," his bulbous eyes are wide as saucers, his evil coming off in waves as he mockingly consoles you. “Such a delectable sound, so beautiful.”

The colour is drained from your face.

“Not much longer, I swear...”  he moans, about to grab your ankle again.

And now it's your hands that are on his face, clasping his jaw in desperation as you tilt his chin upwards.

"You don't get to fucking do this." You hold his head in your hands as you stumble with your words.

You don't miss the amused expression on his blackened teeth, and, ever so slowly, his hands come to rest on your hands that are cradling his face. His eyes are on fire. Your hands are on fire at his touch.

He tilts his head curiously. "My, my..."

He keeps your grip there. And the eye contact is too much.

He slowly takes your hands down, trying to pin them to your sides, but you aren't going without a fight again. Your worn muscle strains to keep them planted on his jaw, and you’re the one who’s grinning like a maniac now, thumbs digging into the corner of his mouth, stretching that god awful black mouth open.

He chuckles knowingly, his stretched smile guttural, sounding as if Satan himself had spawned. 

"You are special, aren't you?" He pauses to consider your gushing, bloody mess of a face. The deep baritone husk of his voice is sickly sweet. "Even with everything beaten out of you,"

You can't believe how vile and how utterly deranged and twisted this man was to be toying with your anguish and consuming it like a life force. Like it makes him stronger, all the better off to treat your broken soul as a means to an end. 

You tell him this. You tell him exactly now you feel, past the point of caring. You are out-of-body; you are not even attached anymore, shattered beyond repair. 

“Fucking piece of shit," Your voice is hoarse from your screaming, dryer than the desert wastes. You want to see his face as it contorts, need to see him receive your insult as harsh as it was intended. 

His face doesn't seem to register what you said. His pale head merely drops out of your hands to be level with your ankle again as it twitches in his scratchy and cut-up, war-torn palms, your soft skin supple in comparison.

Your ankle is yanked in one swift, fluid motion, and you know he heard you. The pain is making you see starry, glittery speckles as your eyelids flutter close. 

Death is near.

The crowd says it. That's them. That must be them. All of their voices sound like a chorus—a church choir—as you float in and out of consciousness. 

You don't know how long you've been yanked forward; you swear you've been to the end of the arena, doing laps around Feyd-Rautha. 

Running in a diagonal line, weaving through him. Mother would be proud.

But no, something is heavy, rooting you to the ground and sitting on your chest, weighing you down like a cinder block.

The flaps on his black armoured legs are covering your face in the struggle; his knees are pressed into your cheeks as he gathers your arms, both of them against his chest, holding them to him like floppy string beans.

You push against him, “Fucking Harkonnen scum!" Your anger rips out of your throat; your hatred is not reserved anymore; it’s open, bearing witness for the crowd to see.

“You forget yourself,” Feyd-Rautha sneers down at you as he collects your flailing limbs in his palms. “Your beauty is the only thing saving you at this point.” 

His words strike right at your heart, your chest tightening in dread.

Beauty?

But there’s something else there, amongst the terror. Something you don’t want to acknowledge, and in the desecration of your soul, you feel yourself, your whole body, flush. 

You panic at your sickened thoughts, and you dip your head up to see your jello-like arms captured by Feyd-Rautha. Your broken ankle lies horribly twisted. Your anguished, throbbing limbs and fresh wounds are seeping with agony. And your bones—your bones ought to be mush by now. 

Exhaustion has caught up to you. You've ignored it for so long... so long.

Trying to prove yourself.

Your eyes flutter close.

“Closing your eyes isn’t going to make this go away,” the rough, taunting voice of Feyd-Rautha sends a jolt through your body.

You tighten your eyes harder. 

Let me rest. Let me take a rest from you.

“I said-” His voice was malevolent, husky. “I need to see those eyes again.”

Your eyes fly open, just in time to see his blackened mouth now hovering over yours, his proximity making your body go rigid. His chest is weighing you down, his body caging you.

His dark, gleeful expression seems to ruin you as your nose grazes his. Your heart sings. 

No. This is wrong.

“What are you doing?” You don’t believe your own protest as it spills out of you. Your heart is hammering out of your chest.

The palm of his hand slid over your tattered shorts, over the skin of your hip bone. Goosebumps rise at his touch, and he smiles at that, his wet tongue swiping over his black teeth in perverse fascination.

“How utterly brave,” he whispers, his eyes lit aflame as they locked on yours. He drags a finger down your temple, cheek, and finally lets it rest on your jaw, his touch burning like a brand. “A hero amongst them. One that isn’t afraid to be broken. One that welcomes it.”

“Harkonnen-” your protest dies in your throat when you suddenly feel his tongue dart out to lick the blood gathering at the corner of your mouth. 

You freeze. Your eyes widen as he licks it clean. The black pit of his mouth draws closer, and you’re sinking. Your stomach flips upside down. His tongue slithers into your mouth, an overflow of warmth flowing in your belly. You can’t think... You can’t feel. His lips are surprisingly soft as they obliterate you.

He tastes metallic, with a hint of black liquorice. 

Your body shakes like a leaf in his arms—the nerves overflowing. He deeply chuckles, the sound reverberating in your mouth, as his tongue punches yours, darting around and around. Your thoughts are so muddied you sigh and you’re kissing him back with feverish passion. He groans at that.

His hand is splayed over your abdomen, and you feel the cool sensation of his rings. Something snaps inside you. You break the kiss.

No, what am I doing, what am I doing, what the fuck am I-

"Wait-”

His hand trails lower and lower, settling on your pubic bone.

“I-” 

You're stuttering, scarlet red and flushed with humiliation.

“Shhhh..” His shushes are guttural, and a shiver runs up your spine.

Someone has to stop this, right? Th-They'll stop the battle right, once they realize this isn't a battle anymore.

You watch as his arms slide up and underneath your tunic, deep shame swirling in your belly as excitement and thrill courses through your veins from his attention.

They'll stop it, They can stop, I won't be made a fool of- no I won't-

His other hand's rings caress your ribcage, your skin pin-pricking with want. He traces carefully over every rib bone before pressing. Hard.

You yelp as you snap out of your reverie and dig your nails into his wrist, bucking wildly against him in an effort to get him off of you.

Why would they stop it? You're in the arena with a treasured and respected sociopath—their precious Na-Baron.

His hand slides down your shoulder, down the apex of your arm, goosebumps continuing to rise despite your flailing frame.

Your eyes encapsulated your undoing under Feyd-Rautha’s hard stare. He didn’t believe you for a second as he watched you flail about. His sickly eyes were large and expanding at your blatant but silent need.

"N-Na-Baron, you don't need to trouble yourself. I'm a peasant, worthless all around. Surely you wouldn't dishonour yourself...disrespect yourself..." Your ramble came in short gasps.

It sounded pitiful and sad to even your own ears.

Something flashes over his eyes in amusement as he considers you.

“Oh,” his rough voice muses. “But I do respect you, pet.” 

And at that, his ringed fingers cupped you, sliding over your nub.

Your face came alive, then. Like he had never seen. Your eyes swirl, cheeks flushed, pink mouth open—tormented by your enjoyment.

“So lovely,” he encouraged. You shuddered inwardly, your insides like a million shards of glass as his ink-stained teeth smiled down at you.

You’re unable to keep up with his ministrations. A sob wracks through you, the pleasure travelling the whole length of your skeleton down to your toes.

His hot mouth is moving over your collarbone as you struggle to punch him.

He hovers over you, brushing your resisting face with his fingers. He covers your angry fist and snatches it to his chest, holding it steadfast.

"Give in now, you poor thing."

Instantly, your eyes are sucked into his deep blue ones, as he quickens his pace. Flicking back and forth.

You cry out, arching into his chest.

His mouth opens in a mocking, seductive gleam, clearly loving your reactions.

“Can’t-” you think you go to another dimension, a cosmic shift as you try to make sense of what is happening to you.

“Can’t what?” He grovels, low and heavy. His hunger is apparent. His tongue makes a home in your ear, as your eyes roll back into your head.

Faster and faster, he demolishes your entire being, breaking you from the inside out.

You think you go to Caladan for a moment, maybe to Arrakis—your body flying as the pressure builds.

Somehow, in the midst of adrenaline, your battle instinct takes over, and you're able to roll on top of him, bringing his forearm that has disappeared in your trousers with you. 

You sit up straight—on top of him, shakily wrapping your hands around his throat.

A sinister laugh erupts from under you. Feyd-Rautha angles his flicking wrist so that it never leaves you, his free hand seizing the cleft of your hip completely still. Your body sputters in shock.

Your glassy orbs flicker over his angular, pale face like a hawk, stuttering with vulnerability, and he senses it.

He hoarsely speaks below you, his desire thick. “I need it, give it to me, I want it, I need you,”

His words hit you like dynamite as the pleasure amounted within you, tears in your eyes at the intensity of the moment. His bulbous eyes never left you, his black mouth opening at the sight of you in utter devotion. Your hands release from his throat.

Your defeated eyes are engulfed by his as you collapse onto his chest. You felt the throes of submission envelop you - needing, wanting to be under his scrutiny, his gaze. His armoured arms fastened you in his grip, anchoring your shaking form in his arms, holding you close.

His pale head went rest on your shoulder blade for a moment, then pulled you back to leer at you. 

This intimacy with.. him.

It could not be replicated through space and time.

Feyd-Rautha hauls your crumpled form to him, his white hand digging into your hip as he tosses one of your arms around his shoulders. He's doing most of the heavy lifting as you lean against him, depleted and brutalized. He’s walking you towards the stands.

Your face was caked with dirt and blood, swollen. You were numb - to his violence earlier, to his.. attention.   

A bellow is heard above. 

"Exquisite, nephew." The Baron nodded at the both of you, his enormous form like a boulder in the stands. “You lest come across a treat among the gutter like that in your lifetime.”

You turn away, your brow furrowing in disdain.

You feel a harsh slap to your cheek, the bite of it temporarily distracting you from your seething anger, but fuelling it nonetheless. “Look at my uncle when he’s addressing you.”

“Just kill me,” you gritted your teeth as you whisper at him, feeling debased, undignified.

His eye contact was immobilizing.

"Oh now you beg, treasure?" Feyd-Rautha says deeply, in awe. "When you've stopped fighting?"

You barely process the term of endearment as it shuts you up.

Feyd-Rautha holds your upper torso, forcing you to stand against him, squeezing your cheeks together as he inclines your face to his uncle.

Plump lips encase the shell of your ear, his hot saliva sending waves of.. something down your spine.

“You should be proud." Feyd grunted out. "I don't service those in the arena often, but when I do...”

He plays with your ribs, his fingers cold underneath your tatted and holey shirt.

“I make sure they are worthy of it, to add to the display,”

You know exactly what he means by serviced, and you feel mortified of the memory, knowing - The Baron, noble ladies and the noble men all have seen it. They must know that nothing is off limits for a sadist - you could imagine he tortured and serviced men and women alike - you doubt it mattered to him.

It was the Harkonnen Arena, everything for the ease of entertainment. 

Your protest was instant. “Go fuck yours-”

"Shut your mouth, pet, before I send you away to be a slave, the only worth you'll ever live." He threatened. "If you're to behave, you'll be here, training with me, for battle regularly.”

“I don’t blame you, nephew,” The Baron jeered from the stands. “How did you learn to move like that, girl?”

Feyd-Rautha’s mouth was open again—a tunnel of black tar. “Answer him.”

“A peasant never reveals their secret, my lord.” you bluntly say, not caring for the repercussions.

You hear Feyd growl in a warning before the Baron interrupts him, erupting in jolly, sick laughter. “Oh, what fun you’ll have with this one, nephew.”

“Indeed, uncle.” Feyd’s deep blue irises drink you in as he snatches you roughly.

Feyd-Rautha steps around the arena, presenting you to the people like a spectacle. He allows you your respect, holding you with your arms stretched like a splayed out starfish. The flat of his palm is pushing the centre of your spine.

You do feel like you’ve gone through hell as you hear the crowd roar in applause. You do feel like you’ve earned something. But you didn’t. You failed. Tears roll down your face.

Did I mother? Did I do it?

A flash of your mother’s caring eyes envelopes you. She nods, her angelic presence swarming around you.

“You did well, daughter.” A whisper. “I couldn’t have asked for better.”

She cradles your head in your hands, tilting your head to meet her warmth.

You grin, happiness enveloping you, grasping at her shoulders. You want to hold her, but you can’t. “Really, mother?”

“Yes, Caladanian." Her warm smile is pitch black. Her praise is false, a lie.

With a sick feeling, it’s his voice now whispering in your ears again, breaking you from your dreamy experience. 

Feyd-Rautha's chest is pressing into your bruised back as he holds you to him.. Can he.. let you keep speaking with your mother, just for a moment? Would he, if you followed orders, if you made no trouble?

“The honour you deserve, pet..” His thumbs wipe at your tears as they dribble down your sunken cheeks, but his face is devious. “I shall wash and clean you myself, and then you’re going to rest in my arms tonight,” His whispers aren’t of comfort, like hers—his voice is too brazen, too guttural.

His eyes are a bottomless pit as his hand travels to the base of your neck.

“I think you might be my favourite..” He squeezes, briefly cutting off your air supply and you sputter and cough.

You feel faint. A stream of water is forced down your lips, and you drink it, still coughing.

Your vision is hazy, and you decide it’s time to sleep. It’s like he’s rocking you back and forth, the length of your body dragging along the sand, back and forth and back and forth and-

Shushing you, soothing you, like a baby. 

Still hearing the crowd congratulate you, the deafening cries of the Harkonnen people clear in your eardrum, still feeling him grip you -

In your weakened state, a surge of lightning flows through your veins. From the gods, perhaps?

They’ve seen what you did; they’ve seen what you’ve endured.

There’s colour now in this bleak, desolate oasis. You’re the colour.

The black sun seemingly speaks as it encases your entirety. 

You have won, dear one. You have survived.

PART 1 PART 2

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN 14 Chapter 1 Part 1 Summary

I am currently reading Hamefura LN14 and will post summaries after each chapter.

Chapter 1 is a bit long so I split it in two.

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Chapter 1: The Encounter at the Party (Part 1)

Break at Cyrus's Fields

Katarina and Maria are helping Cyrus with his fields. They are all taking a break at the moment.

Cyrus and Maria are talking about work. Katarina thinks they're so serious for talking about work during their free time. She turns her gaze away from them and looks at the fields.

Cyrus's fields have expanded since Katarina and Maria started helping. They will harvest fall crops soon. Katarina can't wait.

Katarina Would Like to Eat Rice

Katarina remembers that if she had been in Japan, it would soon be the period to harvest rice. New rice is delicious and she can't have enough of rice with dried plums and pickles.

Katarina inadvertently voices that she'd like to eat rice.

Maria asks her what she means, so Katarina explains that, while looking at the fields, she remembered that it would soon be the rice harvesting period. And then, she wished she could eat rice. 

Cyrus is surprised that Katarina would know about the rice harvesting period and realizes again how much Katarina likes Japanese food.

Katarina thinks to herself that it is only natural since her grandparents were rice farmers. She would help them with planting and harvesting rice.

Katarina remembers that in Sorcier, people eat bread and Western food, so there is no rice there. On the other hand, people eat rice and Japanese food in the neighboring country Sharma, which is similar to Japan. Incidentally, people also eat rice and Japanese food in Cyrus's region since it is bordering Sharma.

Katarina has been wanting to go to Cyrus's region since she heard they ate Japanese food there. However, she can't freely go there since it takes 4 days by carriage.

Cyrus is happy that Katarina enjoys his hometown's food so much. His parents send him home specialties after the fall harvest every year, so he offers to share some with her. Katarina jumps with joy and invites Maria to enjoy the food together. Maria chuckles and accepts.

Katarina wonders what food Cyrus will share with her. Tsukemono? New rice? She is about to ask Cyrus when she sees him make a very content smile.

Maria Has Been Tense Lately

Katarina asks Cyrus if something happened. Cyrus snaps back to reality. He whispers to her that he just felt glad since Maria has been smiling ever since Katarina invited her to help at the fields. Maria has been tense lately but she was able to calm down after coming here and interacting with Katarina. Katarina didn't know that Maria was tense.

Katarina remembers that Maria's family was attacked a few days ago. While she and Cezar were able to rescue Maria, they could only catch the thugs. They couldn't catch Sara, who was taken away by the "handsome seductive enigmatic uncle". As a result, they couldn't get any information about the organization except that they were targeting Maria. Following this, it was decided Maria's family would be protected at the Ministry and escorted by guards whenever they went out. Katarina can understand why Maria would feel tense.

Currently, Maria is not escorted by guards. Even so, she is still in the Ministry of Magic in Sorcier (the second most-guarded institution of the safest country in the world) and with Cyrus, who is a Ministry director and a powerful magic wielder, martial artist, and swordsman.

Katarina originally invited Maria to the fields to get some help for the harvest but she is glad that Maria could relax because of it.

Looking at Cyrus's happy face after Maria's smile, Katarina feels like she is third-wheeling. She turns her gaze towards the fields.

Mole Alert

Katarina notices an area of the fields where the earth is bulging. She shouts at Cyrus: "They got us! The enemy is here!"

Cyrus quickly stands up. He keeps Maria behind his back and asks Katarina where the enemy is. Katarina points to a hole in the ground. Cyrus is confused. Katarina explains that there's a mole: their natural enemy as farmers. Cyrus frowns and Maria bursts out laughing. Seeing Maria laugh, Cyrus relaxes his face a little.

Cyrus explains to Katarina that, while a mole is indeed a farmer's enemy, she shouldn't carelessly use the word "enemy" given Maria's state. Katarina realizes that she needlessly scared Maria and apologizes to her. But Maria laughs even louder, to the point she is holding her stomach.

Pondering Measures Against Moles

Cyrus inspects the hole and confirms there is a mole.

Katarina never saw a mole in her fields but she remembers that in her past life, her grandmother often had moles damaging her fields, which would make her furious.

Katarina is surprised there would be moles in the Ministry grounds. Cyrus replies it isn't so surprising given the natural setting here. He just never took measures against moles because they never damaged his fields until now.

Cyrus ponders about measures he could take against moles. Katarina also ponders about them on her side.

Katarina remembers that in her past life, her grandmother would bury some kind of nail that would make a piercing sound when it detected a mole. She eventually took it off because it became too noisy. Anyhow, it's not like she could find this kind of device in this world. 

Katarina wonders if she can leave in the fields something that would give off a pungent smell that would drive the moles away. With this line of thought, she comes up with a great idea.

Katarina's Measure Against Moles

Katarina summons Pochi. Cyrus asks her why she did. Katarina explains that she will have Pochi poop on the fields to scare off the mole. Cyrus is blank. Katarina explains that she heard that tanukis didn't get close to fields if they smelled dog poop, so she thought it might work on moles too.

In her past life, her grandmother would collect dog poop from the neighborhood and put them on the corners of her fields. Katarina couldn't help her back then because dogs hated her, but now, she can provide the dog poop since she has a dog.

Katarina orders Pochi to poop. Pochi barks in understanding and takes the posture.

Katarina loudly cheers Pochi on while he is trying to poop.

Maria shyly reminds Katarina that Pochi can't poop since he is a dark familiar. Both Katarina and Pochi are shocked after hitting upon this realization. Pochi cries in apology and Katarina apologizes to him in return for asking him the impossible. Seeing them, Maria burst out laughing again.

Cyrus reminds Katarina that it is wrong in the first place to leave dog poop on the prestigious grounds of the Ministry. Katarina thinks to herself that Cyrus still created fields on the prestigious grounds of the Ministry.

Katarina understands that it would be troublesome to leave dog poop here since it is smelly and people can step on it. Cyrus tells her it isn't that troublesome, but she still shouldn't do it. Anyhow, Cyrus tells Katarina he will think about how to put in place the measures he used in his hometown and asks her to stop thinking about measures. Katarina gladly leaves the issue to him since he is a "pro-farmer". When Pochi barks in agreement, Cyrus makes a little step backward.

Cyrus and Dogs

Katarina asks Cyrus if he feels uneasy with dogs. Cyrus tells her that's not it.

Katarina asks Cyrus if, by any chance, he'd like to get along with dogs but can't because they hate him. She is hoping to find a fellow in Cyrus. Cyrus denies it: he had a dog as a kid and often held it.

Katarina feels jealous of Cyrus, but she is glad to have Pochi now. She pets Pochi's head and Pochi seems to be enjoying it.

Looking at them, Cyrus tells Katarina that his dog would also close his eyes in contentment and wag his tail when he petted its head. He and his dog were always together, like siblings. Unfortunately, it died in an accident one day, right before his eyes. Since then, he has felt a little scared about interacting with dogs or even animals in general. Hearing this, Katarina takes Pochi in her arms and hugs him tightly.

Cyrus stays silent with a distant gaze while reminiscing about his dog. After a while, he suggests to Katarina and Maria they work a little longer and call it a day. Katarina and Maria accept without asking questions.

They all finish work and go home.

Katarina realizes upon going to sleep that she forgot to ask Cyrus what food his parents will send him.

Katarina Ponders about Cyrus's Trauma

The next day, Katarina is in the carriage and she is idly thinking about what Cyrus told her about his uneasiness with dogs.

It seems like not only Cyrus can't handle young women, he can't handle dogs either. That's a lot for one person. It is not so rare for capture targets in otome games to come with traumas, so she wonders if that's what it is.

In Fortune Lover 1, the capture targets had childhood traumas. For example, Alan suffered from always being compared to the perfect Geordo, and then Maria made him realize his strong points. Though, the actual Alan didn't end like this for some reason: he developed his talent for music and grew into a carefree person 

As for Keith, since he was unneeded by his biological parents, treated coldly by his adopted mother, and bullied by his adopted sister, he was supposed to become a distrusting frivolous man who played around with girls to satisfy his need for love, until Maria taught him about true love. But the actual Keith is the reliable son of the Claes family, gets along with his adopted mother, eagerly takes it upon himself to protect his older sister, and has grown into a pure good young man.

Katarina Talks With Keith in the Carriage

Katarina glances at Keith in front of her. His straightened back and neat clothes show that he isn't a playboy but he still exudes sexiness as a remnant of his sexy character status. Even so, he doesn't use his sexiness, which is a waste.

Katarina inadvertently voices, "What a shame". Keith asks her what is. Katarina explains that she thinks it's a shame that he exudes so much sexiness but doesn't use it.

Keith is wide-eyed for a moment, then frowns and makes a deep sigh. He agrees and tells her he was told the same thing several times. Keith looks dejected, so Katarina apologizes. Keith says it's fine.

Keith reminds Katarina that they are on their way to an important party. Katarina realizes that it is indeed not the time to think about Cyrus or the game.

Keith insists that Katarina should ready herself for the party. Katarina begs him to let her idle until they arrive. She promises she will focus and conduct herself properly during the party. But she will exhaust herself if she keeps being focused, so she needs to idle and she can only do it when they're alone together. 

Keith is choked up for words. He finally accepts since "she can only do it when they're alone together".

Katarina looks out the window. There's such a nice weather. She wishes she could have farmed today and indulged in sweets after work.

The Sorcier Kingdom Founding Anniversary Party

Today, the Sorcier Kingdom Founding Anniversary Party is held. A lot of foreigners have been invited. The atmosphere is similar to the International Assembly, but unlike it, it is not meant for socializing with people, but for everyone to enjoy this Sorcier celebration. It also lasts only one day, contrary to the International Assembly.

A lot of foreign emissaries will be there, so unlike in Sorcier-only parties, Katarina will need to walk around and greet everyone. She has been told to be careful of her surroundings since the dark magic organization might sneak in. People are thoroughly checked at the entrance but it is still possible. Katarina needs to be cautious while not acting rudely. 

The party is held in the largest hall of the castle. Out of respect for the customs of the other countries, ladies don't need an escort for this party.

Katarina and Keith enter the venue together.

There are a lot more people compared to the International Assembly. They are dressed in various kinds of clothes: Japanese style, Arabian style, Chinese style… There are also a variety of skin, hair, and eye colors. Even so, everyone talks in the same language. 

Katarina feels amazed by this sight. Keith tells her that such a variety of people is expected since more countries have been invited to this party compared to the International Assembly. Katarina is amazed that Keith guessed exactly what she was thinking. Keith chuckles and tells her it is normal since he has been her brother for 10 years already.

Keith reminds Katarina to be careful not to cause trouble. After recalling what happened during the International Assembly, Katarina replies that she will.

Keith and Katarina greet the Sorcier nobles, along with the foreign nobles they met at the International Assembly. Katarina is surprised she hasn't seen her friends yet, not even Geordo who always rushes to see her.

Katarina is thirsty, so she tells Keith she will go have a drink. Keith says okay while reminding her with his eyes not to eat or drink too much.

Encounter at the Buffet

Katarina goes to the buffet and is amazed by all the gorgeous food prepared for the anniversary party. She originally intended to just have a drink and go back but she thinks it wouldn't hurt to enjoy the food a little as long as she doesn't overeat. She picks up a lot of food and starts eating. After emptying her plate, she picks up some more food.

Katarina suddenly hears "You're eating too much". She startles and looks towards the voice. She realizes the words weren't aimed at her: a man she doesn't know is scolding a woman who has picked up a lot of food like her. Katarina feels an affinity with the girl.

The two people are dressed in kimono-like clothes so they probably come from Sharma, the neighboring country with a Japanese-like culture.

The man tells the woman that a lady shouldn't eat so much at a place like this. His scolding reminds Katarina of when Keith scolds her for the exact same reason. The woman retorts she just doesn't want to miss out on the banquet of the great country Sorcier. She will hardly have other opportunities like this. The two people appear to be siblings. Katarina deeply agrees with the sister and can't help silently cheering her on.

The sister notices Katarina and they make eye contact. Katarina notices the sister has black hair and eyes, and that she's beautiful. The sister notices Katarina's plate full of food, just like hers. At this moment, the two girls feels like they understand each other despite coming from different countries: enjoying a banquet is more important than lady etiquette.

The brother makes a deep sigh and tells the sister he wasn't telling her not to eat, just not to eat too much. His words also remind Katarina of Keith. The sister retorts that she can't avoid filling her plate since there is so much food. But it is not like she will eat everything at once she will just take a little of everything. Katarina silently agrees, it is exactly what she was doing. The sister notices Katarina's agreement and also nods to herself. Katarina feels like she could greatly get along with the sister.

The brother replies that, in that case, it would be more proper to just take a little of one or two dishes she likes. Katarina feels revolted by the brother's words and feels like she can't get along with him.

The sister feels revolted by her brother's thinking and feels like they will never understand each other.

The brother tiredly tells her they will talk about it later. She reminds her that the King will come give his greetings soon, so she must put her plate away. Hearing this, Katarina feels like she would rather eat all her food than put her plate away. She starts gulping down her food. The sister thinks the same thing and starts gulping down her food too. The brother is shocked to see his sister rushing to eat her food rather than putting away her plate. He is even more shocked to see Katarina doing the same thing.

Katarina and the sister have both finished their plates. When they put away their plates, they both smile and nod their heads at each other.

The King's Greetings

Trumpets announce the King's coming. The King appears with the Queen at his side, and the four princes behind them.

The King makes a speech, thanking everyone for coming to the party held for the 300th anniversary of the founding of the Sorcier Kingdom.

After the speech, the foreign attendees go to greet the royals. The Sorcier nobles stay back since they were told beforehand they didn't need to greet the royals for this party.

Katarina starts picking up food again but the sister is dragged away by her brother to greet the royals. Looking at her reluctantly leave, Katarina says "Do your best" in her direction. While she isn't sure the sister heard her, she feels like she said "Yes" in response.

Katarina would like to talk with the sister again and become friends with her if the opportunity arises.

Katarina Talks With Cezar

Katarina suddenly hears someone say "You're eating too much". When she turns around, she realizes that it's Cezar.

Katarina thanks Cezar again for helping her when she lost control of her dark magic. Cezar is glad to see she is well. After all, the last time he saw her, she had fainted.

Katarina remembers what happened at that time. Cezar visited her the day after they rescued Maria, and when she thanked him for his help, Geordo suddenly appeared, became jealous, and gave her an adult kiss in front of Cezar. Because she was so inexperienced with love, she felt overwhelmed and fainted.

Katarina feels embarrassed after remembering this. She starts explaining to Cezar that it wasn't because she was unwell that she fainted, but because she wasn't used to kissing. Midway, she feels panicked about explaining how inexperienced she is about love.

Looking at her, Cezar chuckles and realizes again that both Katarina and Geordo are still very young. Katarina is confused by his reaction.

Cezar asks Katarina if she hated it when Geordo kissed her. Katarina is confused: she felt embarrassed at the time but she can't tell whether she liked it or not.

Looking at her pondering so hard, Cezar changes his mind and tells her she doesn't need to answer him after all. He would prefer she didn't. Then he lightly strokes her head. Katarina is confused and wonders if Cezar doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Cezar feels a threatening look piercing his back and decides to stop at this. He advises Katarina not to move out alone since there are a lot of people. He will go call her family for her, so he asks her to wait here.

After Cezar leaves, Katarina realizes that she has dropped her guard again after seeing the gorgeous food.

Katarina wonders if Cezar will be able to find Keith in this huge crowd. Especially since she knows where Keith is. She decides to join Keith once she has finished eating.

Keith's Lecture

Katarina suddenly hears someone say "You're eating too much". It is Keith.

Keith scolds her for not going back despite telling him she would just go have a drink. He was worried and couldn't seem to get out of the conversation. Fortunately, Cezar spoke to him and told him where she was. Katarina is amazed that Cezar could find Keith so quickly in this huge crowd.

Keith tells Katarina she should pull herself together since she caused trouble to Cezar. Katarina sincerely apologizes. Keith ends his lectures.

Katarina eats the rest of her plate with Keith's permission.

A Look Towards the Royals

Katarina notices that the number of people has decreased. Keith doesn't agree: it only looks that way because all foreigners have gone to greet the royals.

Keith shows Katarina the long line of people waiting to greet the royals. It is way longer than in usual parties. At the end of the line, the royals are repeatedly greeting people with a smile.

Katarina can see that Alan is starting to tire out since he is not good at socializing. Next to him, Geordo must also be tired even if he doesn't show it.

When Katarina looks at Geordo, she has the feeling their eyes met for an instant. It startles her. Keith asks her what is wrong. Katarina explains that she felt like Geordo and her made eye contact even though she was mixed in the crowd. She thinks it was probably her imagination. Keith pretends to agree while thinking to himself that it was probably not her imagination.

Cyrus and Maria

Mary calls Katarina. There are also Sophia, Nicol, Maria, and Cyrus with her.

Katarina is surprised to see Cyrus with everyone. She asks them if they all came together. Mary replies that she, Sophia, and Nicol came together, then they saw Cyrus and Maria together at the entrance, and then they all stayed together.

Katarina is shocked that Cyrus and Maria went to the ball together. Cyrus kept saying until now he was too embarrassed to ride in a carriage alone with her or talk alone with her, but he finally did it. Katarina feels so happy and proud that Cyrus has finally reached grade schooler-level maturity in terms of romance.

Maria explains that she actually met Cyrus at the castle. It was Sora who escorted her on the way to the castle. Cyrus proudly confirms it with a face that seems to say "Of course since I can't ride in a carriage alone with her". Katarina feels so disappointed. She wonders how Cyrus will be able to make progress with Maria at this rate.

Maria was told to attend this party since many people wanted to talk with her as a Sorcier celebrity. She doesn't seem escorted by guards so Katarina wonders if both Cyrus and Sora were assigned as her guards this time. Or maybe Cyrus was assigned as her guard but he asked Sora to escort her on the way to the castle because he couldn't ride in a carriage alone with her. This possibility seems more likely.

Katarina asks Cyrus in a low voice if he was the one who asked Sora to escort Maria on the way to the castle. Cyrus readily confirms it since he can't ride in a carriage alone with Maria. Katarina is shocked that Cyrus is okay with Sora and Maria being alone together. Katarina doesn't understand why Cyrus would be wary of Dewey but not of Sora. Sora should be a greater threat since he is good at sweet-talking women. If Sora fell for Maria, Cyrus's chance would drop to zero.

--------------

Katarina: Umm, are you okay with Sora and Maria alone together?  Sora might have feelings for Maria, you know?

Cyrus: No, Sora doesn't have feelings for Maria. Even I can see that.

Katarina: Huh? What do you mean?

Cyrus: What I mean? Well, however I look at it…

Katarina: However you look at it, what?

Cyrus: Lady Katarina, didn't you notice?

Katarina: Notice what?

Cyrus: …

Katarina: Wait, Lord Cyrus. What is it? What do you mean?

As Cyrus fell silent, I asked this with a little loud voice.

Cyrus: Lady Katarina, I see that you still are a child ignorant of love.

He said this with a little tired face.

Wh-Whaaaat~?! Cyrus, who is no better than a grade-schooler when it comes to romance, dares tell me I'm a child ignorant of love?! I don't want to hear that from YOU!!

--------------------------

Nicol Kept Being Approached By Foreigners

Katarina is about to retort something when Mary pulls her arms, offers her some sweets, and forcibly separates her from Cyrus. Katarina still wants to yell at Cyrus but she is intrigued by the sweets.

Mary tells her these sweets are probably a new creation since she has never seen them before. Katarina tastes them and finds them delicious. Maria asks if she can taste them too. Katarina accepts even though it was Mary who offered them. Maria finds them delicious. Then Sophia and Nicol taste them too and find them delicious.

Mary is glad they could finally join with Katarina. Katarina assumes it was hard to find her given the number of people. Mary replies it was not the case since she assumed they would find her at the buffet. Katarina feels dejected that people would figure her out so easily.

Maria explains it was because they kept getting approached by people and could hardly make a step. Katarina is not surprised people would ask Mary, Maria, and Sophia out since they're pretty. Mary explains it was rather Nicol who kept getting approached. Katarina is shocked. 

Sophia explains that Nicol's charm is particularly effective today given the number of foreign people. Nicol was not only approached by young women but also men and women of all ages. Some of them were high-ranking people in their primes, so they had to deal with them carefully.  

Katarina is amazed by Nicol's charm which fascinates people of all genders, ages, and countries. Even with these beautiful girls with him, he can boast about being the most popular one. 

Mary admits that Nicol's charm was so troublesome that she felt like wrapping a cloth around his face.

Even after hearing the rumors, Cyrus still can't believe the number of people who approached Nicol.

Sophia mentions that Nicol has been especially courted by large foreign men. She thinks they're probably considering loving Nicol as a woman. Nicol sharply stops Sophia. His tone is sharp but his face looks tired. Katarina doesn't know if it is because he was approached by large men, or because of Sophia's fantasies, speech, and conduct.

Cyrus Came to the Party to Escort Maria

Cyrus changes the subject. He confesses that it has been a while since he went to a party and he feels overwhelmed by the number of people here. Katarina is surprised that Cyrus doesn't go to parties but realizes that she indeed never met Cyrus at a party. Cyrus explains that he doesn't feel at ease at parties and is also busy with work, so he always rejects the invitations.

Still, Cyrus is not the only one. Many nobles at the Ministry don't go to parties, like Larna / Susanna Randall, who only goes to important parties. Ministry people are also swamped with work.

Maria apologizes to Cyrus since he had to push himself to go to the party for her. Maria seems to think that Cyrus was forced to attend the party to guard her. Katarina rather thinks Cyrus volunteered to do it. After all, Cyrus would do anything to protect Maria.

Cyrus tells Maria that he planned from the beginning to attend the party and volunteered to guard her after hearing she would also attend it…because he was worried about her. Katarina can imagine that Cyrus had to muster a little courage to say the last part.

Maria is happy to hear this and warmly thanks him for "being so concerned for his subordinate". Maria seems to have taken it as the considerate gesture of a superior towards his subordinate rather than a romantic gesture. As the heroine of an otome game, Maria seems to be dense when it comes to love. Katarina feels sorry for Cyrus.

Katarina thinks to herself that in Cyrus's place, Geordo would have clearly told Maria that he was worried about her because he loved her, not because she was his subordinate. Cyrus doesn't need to be like Geordo but he needs to work hard if he wants the dense Maria to notice his feelings.

Katarina really wonders how Cyrus could romance Maria in the game. Maybe he had a sad ending where he only married her in his dream? She can tell that Cyrus is losing to the 14-year-old Dewey and that he will just end up as a good superior at this rate. She sometimes wants to push Cyrus but he always says that he can't be alone with Maria. It is frustrating. Even today, he probably planned from the start to join with Mary and the others so he wouldn't be alone with Maria. Even though he accepted to guard Maria, he won't make any progress with her. Cyrus is just so hopeless.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Peaceful Property dove a bit deeper into the Thai spiritual beliefs that most Thai BL watchers will have recognized casually cropping up in shows and interviews where they talk about whether they're afraid of ghosts and such.

I’m not an expert in anyway on Thai occult traditions, and I also recognize that a lot of English writing about folk religions is the absolute worst (both among academics and among the new-agey amateur crowd). However, this writing from the digital Southeast Asian culture publication, Rice Media, about the experience of Signaporean author, Benjamin Lim, going through a Thai occult ritual is a pretty easy read tht treats the process and background beliefs with respect and realism.

For example, it distinguishes three regional variations, with the southern region of Dai, including Bangkok, associated with monks and chanting, the northwestern region of Neueh associated most with ghosts, and the northeastern region of Issan connected on occult magical practices.

Part of the background info touched on amulets, and it’s run down explains not only what Aunt Phom is doing in the episode but how symbolic it was of her maltreatment of Baanchuen.

“Often, spells and other types of chants are used to summon spirits or ghosts to amulets, which are usually shaped in the form of a deity. They are typically worn as a form of protection. But these spirits, “enslaved” by the amulet wearers, can also be instructed to help their masters in various ways, for example increasing their wealth or even improve their love life.

Like pets, these spirits need to be looked after and showered with attention. If not, they may feel neglected and can hurt their master. Any good luck that they bring to the amulet wearer must also be repaid in merit, which Peter says can be making donations to charity in the name of the spirit. 

“There is no free lunch in this world,”he stresses.”

Aunt Phon wanted to exploit her laborers and the spirits to maintain her family’s wealth and status with no regard for making merit of any kind to others.

Idk how common this knowledge would be for most Thai folks, but knowing that info, if accurate, illuminates so much in the episode and the Emily Gilmore of Thailand. I can't wait until someone with more familiarity lays out more of the details about the Thai occult references here!

[probablyasocialecologist]

If Ugandans have a social safety net, it is woven from banana fibers, and if there is a clear path to socialism, it will be lined with banana leaves. The lusuku model, premised on intercropping and smallholder farming, could be the basis for national agrarian reform that improves the lives of Uganda’s agricultural workers without accelerating the destruction of the natural environment. Uganda faces increasing difficulty feeding itself because of climate extremes and land degradation, and this affects farmers more significantly than anyone else. Moreover, since the 1990s, the ruling National Resistance Movement regime sold off and dismantled most of the coffee, tea, and cotton growers cooperatives, leaving smallholder farmers in the hands of the predatory middlemen which cooperatives had been established to protect them against. Unable to collectively bargain and exposed to dramatic fluctuations in the market prices for cash crops, many people left rural areas to search for employment in cities. This has been a driving force behind the massive inequality between rural and urban workers. Ugandans now produce more food than they consume, even exporting to other countries in the region, yet 41% of people are undernourished, and agricultural production has decreased over the last 20 years. For the most part, the strategy pursued by Uganda’s government has been to encourage the development of ecologically disastrous intensive agriculture for export, privileging foreign investors rather than developing the infrastructure that would benefit peasants. Indeed, while more than 70% of Ugandans are employed in agriculture, the sector only receives around 4% of public investment, and projects aimed at helping smallholder farmers have had very little success, even by their own standards. Many of the government’s investments in agriculture very clearly advantage larger landowners, to the detriment of the poorest farmers. For example, most of the government’s investment in labor-saving technologies has been spent on tractors, which are great for large plots but largely unaffordable or unsuitable for the average farmer, whose plot is usually between 1-3 acres large. However, a socialist transition premised on agroecological reforms could make use of the existing lusuku model to create the kind of growth that actually improves poor farmers’ lives without destroying their environment. This could begin with reestablishing cooperatives and engineering agricultural prices around social needs and goals, like guaranteeing access to food. Research from around the world has shown that while large, monocrop plantations are good at producing huge volumes of one crop, smallholder farms are more productive when evaluated on a per-unit area and are capable of securing national food sovereignty. Why, for example, should Ugandans buy rice imported from Pakistan or Vietnam when banana intercropping yields more calories per hectare than rice? Lusukus could feed the nation without relying on foreign experts, development aid, or the capital-intensive inputs now being imported to grow for export. Because lusukus are far better for the soil, they also improve the nation’s capacity to resist severe floods and drought, effects of climate change that hit poor farmers hardest. In these ways, the lusuku model could provide a sustainable path to socialist development.

[river-in-the-woods]

i have a similar situation - i'm struggling to make my own correspondences, and i'm trying to draw from my pagan practices as well as my ancestral asian practice. i'm having a bit of difficulty with systematically going through a small dictionary, but maybe this can provide some ideas (and of course, if you have any critiques, i'm totally open to that as well!)

I usually just pick up any reference book and choose whatever I like the sound of and can get my hands on. I have a copy of The Encyclopedia of Natural Magic by J.M. Greer which I use a lot because it has minimal tangential waffle and is neatly laid out. I like Llewellyn's Charms, Spells and Formulas for the same reason.

For culturally relevant things, I like chinasage which has a symbol index of various flora and fauna. I'm not aware of similar resources for other parts of East Asia, apologies.

While I do think that different materials are endowed with particular virtues, I also think this is another area of magic where people get a little obsessed with categorisation.

It's not like Pokemon where lavender has +10 sleep magic points and chamomile has +12, or roses are exclusively for love and attraction and black pepper is only for cursing and banishing, and so on... It's a little more like cooking where there are many possibilities of creating a satisfying meal and yet it still depends on the individual tastes of who's partaking in it.

Cypress, yew and asphodel are strongly associated with the underworld; mugwort and wormwood are associated with night-time and dreams, but these plants will still die without the light of day. Sunflowers and oranges are very solar, but they still have roots that reach into the earth to anchor them. Chilli peppers are incredibly fiery, but they still die without water. Yarrow is for youth, love and beauty, except when you're allergic to it.

Every herb is a herb for protection, and wealth, and attraction, and fertility, and banishing – and so on, because every plant has its own strategy to survive, thrive and proliferate.

(And that's just plants, not even touching on the properties of minerals, animals, elements, colours and so on.)

They do have their specialisations, yes, and I wouldn't use mint to call on the element of fire, nor would I use coffee beans in a sleep spell... What I'm trying to say is: they're all multi-faceted, so set aside the reference books now and then, and just observe and make connections intuitively.

Reference books might tell you that basil or cinnamon or citrus (or whatever) have wealth-drawing properties.

But grass, plain old common grass, completely dominates the greenery of the earth. Crops like rice, wheat, barley and corn are staple foods that support the world's population. And dandelions, with their solar and ouranic qualities and how quickly they proliferate across an open field, are oft overlooked.

These never get listed in books, yet their literal and symbolic powers are undeniable.

Put these – grass seeds, rice grains and dandelion seeds – into a wealth working with a simple prayer. "Bless me with as much wealth as there are blades of grass on this earth, as there are grains of rice that sustain humanity, as there are dandelion seeds that fill the air in spring."

Correspondences are only part of what makes magic work. There's also your own ability and experience, the spirits you call and the relationship you have with them... I strongly favour the relationship part because reference books become less and less important, when you can just ask and the spirits will tell you what to use. Or even better when you don't have to do a spell at all, because you have spirits to take care of it in exchange for some cake.

It took me a long time to open myself up to receiving that kind of inspiration, but... honestly, don't overthink it. You know a lot of correspondences already because you interact with the world every day.

Good luck 🌿

[sayruq]

 As the escalation of the conflict extends to its 19th day, a staggering 2.2 million people are now in urgent need of food. Prior to the hostilities, 104 trucks a day would deliver food to the besieged Gaza Strip, one truck every 14 minutes. 

Despite 62 trucks of aid being allowed to enter southern Gaza via the Rafah crossing since the weekend, only 30 contained food and in some cases, not exclusively so. This amounts to just one truck every three hours and 12 minutes since Saturday. 

[...]

International Humanitarian Law (IHL) strictly prohibits the use of starvation as a method of warfare and as the occupying power in Gaza, Israel is bound by IHL obligations to provide for the needs and protection of the population of Gaza. In 2018, the UN Security Council adopted resolution 2417, which unanimously condemned the use of starvation against civilians as a method of warfare and declared any denial of humanitarian access a violation of international law. Oxfam said that it is becoming painfully clear that the unfolding humanitarian situation in Gaza squarely fits the prohibition condemned in the resolution. 

Clean water has now virtually run out.  It’s estimated that only three litres of clean water are now available per person – the UN said that a minimum of 15 litres a day is essential for people in the most acute humanitarian emergencies as a bare minimum. Bottled water stocks are running low and the cost of bottled water has already surged beyond the reach of an average Gaza family, with prices spiking fivefold in some places. A spokesperson for the UN Agency for Palestinian Refugees (UNWRA) pointed out that some of the food aid allowed in - rice and lentils - is useless, because people do not have clean water or fuel to prepare them. 

A series of airstrikes have left several bakeries and supermarkets either destroyed or damaged. Those that are still functional, can’t meet the local demand for fresh bread and are at risk of shutting down due to the shortage of essentials like flour and fuel. Gaza’s only operative wheat mill is redundant due to the power outages. The Palestinian Water Authority says Gaza's water production is now a mere 5 percent of its normal total, which is expected to reduce further, unless water and sanitation facilities are provided with electricity or fuel to resume its activity. 

Notably, essential food items, like flour, oil and sugar, are still stocked in warehouses that haven’t been destroyed. But as many of them are located in Gaza city, it is proving physically impossible to deliver items due to the lack of fuel, damaged roads and risks from airstrikes.  

The electricity blackout has also disrupted food supplies by affecting refrigeration, crop irrigation, and crop incubation devices.  Over 15,000 farmers have lost their crop production and 10,000 livestock breeders have little access to fodder, with many having lost their animals. Oxfam said that the siege, combined with the airstrikes, has crippled the fishing industry with hundreds of people who rely on fishing losing access to the sea. 

[absolutebl]

Leaving GMMTV aside, what were youre favorite shows this year so far? I'll have more free time coming up and im way behind and out of the loop, so some recs would be appriacted, wise sage. Especially for those shows that didnt get the attention they deserved in your opinion! Thanks a lot!

Top 10 BLs of 2023 So Far

Our Dating Sim

(Korea) 10/10 Viki

If you haven't watched this, it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent. Full review here.

My School President

(Thai) 9/10 YouTube

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

(you said no GMMTV but I have to include it)

The Eighth Sense

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us and (like Blueming) it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and tons angst drives the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

The New Employee

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever! Directed by queer activist Kim Jho Gwang Soo (Just Friends?) partly set in the same neighbourhood as the To My Star house. Gotta love WATCHA (Semantic Error, Light on Me).

Unintentional Love Story

(Korea) 9/10 iQIYI

A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). I’m not sure on rewatchability, and it didn’t whip me into a verbal frenzy the way some KBLs do, but it still gets a solid 9/10 for those damn eyes alone.

Destiny Seeker

(Thai) 8/10 grey

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likeable tsundere/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. Full review here.

Make a Wish

(Thai) 8/10

PNR (from Sammon - Manner of Death & Triage) about a doctor who can see the dead and strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love. Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who cares bc Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but v. satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay af, fag hag bestie and everything. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are too overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

All the Liquors

(Korea) 8/10 Viki & Gaga

A pretty classic foodie set KBL that managed to distinguish itself from others in this category by having a particularly satisfying final episode centered around found family. Sunshine sweetie soju rep gets involved with a shy introvert chef who doesn’t drink. This has a somewhat uneven plot and ridiculous central conceit (much in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut), but if you are looking for a restaurant BL with Korea’s signature softness, then this is a great option. FYI I may identify with our baby party boy hedonist more than any other BL lead ever presented.

Love Mate

(Korea) 8/10 Viki

Features a very much openly gay older uke with commitment issues and a romantic (if arrogant) younger seme with no respect for boundaries (hyung romance). Workplace harassment much? That’s BL for ya. (Also a nonBL Kdrama specialty.) So yeah it’s questionable, but so is my taste. The ultimate premise that someone badly hurt shuts themself off to romance is very similar to Happy Merry Ending or 8th Sense but this version was more about fear than abuse or trauma. For me, this made Love Mate more relatable. However, because the denouement was driven by a late addition faen fatal, the conclusion felt rushed and forced. I can, however, see myself rewatching this one, so it falls into the general rank of 2023′s KBL aka solid high standard and eminently watchable.

Bed Friend

(Thai YouTube, Gaga, iQIYI)

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS). NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked. Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down. Full review here. (Triggers include: child abuse, attempted rape, family abuse)

(3x! 3x Tumblr ate this post. They HAVE to de bug their new editor. This never happens with the old one. Biggest bug is with the "undo" function, DO something about it!)

[leomoon65]

Your first time with Dina

little info for you preference: afab reader, she/her perspective, wlw based but has a bisexual undertone just no men sexually.

summary:

you've liked dina for a few years now but never wanted to ruin your friendship but what happens when dina invites you over and a game of truth or dare turns sexual?

warning: virginity taking, p*rn categories mentioned, smut, , strap, teasing, edging, slight degradation, sexual tension, light language, mention and small affects of weed, 18+ minors dni, semi slow burned, idk im probably forgetting some this was written at 5am

a/n: i never wrote anything like this, let alone posted. this is proofread (update at 5am, it barely is) but im known for having spelling/grammar errors due to personal reasons so pls go easy on me. also, dina and the reader are in college to make everyone legal. i apologize for this being so long, i really wanted to add detail and make it the best i can. please enjoy (:

*a little background*

dina is your childhood best friend, she's a year older than you so you have always looked up to her and she protected you. you've had your ups and downs, complained and cried over various ex partners, came out to each other and have been through thick and thin. she is your person and you are hers.

*dina texts you*

"hey y/n, wanna come over, smoke a bowl and chill tn?"

you smile at your best friend's text responding "yes ofc idiot" as you make your way back from your last class of the day. you are glad you don't have to work another shift at the local retro video game store that mind you, dina always stops to bother you almost every shift. you can focus on the weekend and just have a night with your best friend.

you make your dorm, change into a white cropped shirt, jeans, your campus hoodie (go longhorns) and a pair of vans. "i'll be out for the night" you tell your roommate nancy. "oooo are you finally going to get laid?" nancy giggles to herself. "shut up, no it's dina, we are just going to smoke and i'll probably end up staying the night, text me if you need anything" you say with a smile and you're off. since dina is a sophomore she's in a different dormitory then the freshmen like yourself. making your way to the sophomore dorms you excitingly knock on dina's dorm room. the infamous "808", which happened to be your lucky number that dina was filled with joy when she was given her new dorm earlier this year.

dina: "y/n!" dina says eagerly as she pulls you into one of her famous dina hugs. "how was class?" "how are you?" "is anyone bothering you, i can stand up for you if you need me to?" "do you have enough money in your lunch account?" dina's proceeds to ask more questions before you giggle and reassure that everything is well, no one is bothering you, no you did not set your dorm on fire, and yes, you are good with money. dina reminds you she asks these questions out of love and it's her "best friend responsibility" you just stick your tongue out and make your way to her couch.

dina is wearing the university t shirt but cropped, some gym shorts and socks since she's at home, you notice her stummy poking out of her shirt and can't help but blush and think about what her shirt would look like off and on the floor "hey you!" she says snapping you out of your mini wet--- daydreaming session. "huh?" you say nervously. "can you turn some music on, grab the bong, and our favorite blankets?" "i'm making us some chicken with rice for dinner and i need to watch the oven so the rice rises properly." (she's quite the perfectionist) "sure thing"

you get up, go into dina's room, grabbing her childhood blanket off her bed next to her childhood bear "Mr. Dinaworth" she named when she was 4. dina's blanket consists of ladybugs on sunflowers, it was the blanket that she slept/sleeps with/ has around whenever she is at home. you grab another big blanket you too use when you come over, just a grey and white blanket that is pretty thick and big enough to warm the both of you. you come back put the blankets down, grab the bong from the bathroom since dina just cleaned it out before you came and had not had the time to grab it earlier. you finish by lightly plopping yourself on her couch. "alexa, play vibe music" "playing trust issues by drake on amazon music" the music is low and you smell the amazing food dina is making, you make your way over to her. "can i help?" dina smiles, "yes, you can help by sitting pretty on the couch it's done, it just needs plating". your face gets red from the "sitting pretty" phrase making your way back to the couch. dina is back five minutes later. "for you" she says handing you her famous chicken, white rice with soy sauce and broccoli on a plate. "you do too much for me deen" you say as you start eating. dina responds "what, i have to make sure the pretty girls in my life are fed". there it is.. those damn butterflies in your stomach... "no no you think to yourself , dina is a natural flirt she doesn't mean it like that let along towards you". you sit your food and catch up with dina as every other hangout goes.

about an hour later, dinner is all cleaned up, the music is going and you and dina are buzzed off of the hits you've taken but this is nothing new for you two. "hey let's play truth or dare" dina says. "what are we? thirteen?" you giggle as you start to feel the affects of the weed. dina laughs and puts her hand on your thigh "casually" you feel yourself start to get wet and tingly, "no it's the weed, it's stuff she got that's why i feel like this" you think. "no we are not thirteen but i wanna have some fun, not just smoke our brains out to frank ocean, drake and kehlani all night" she giggles again, ahh you could hear that giggle all day and never get sick of it, it's the same giggle she had when yall were kids, never changed but you love it regardless. "fine, this better be fun" you say noticing dina hasn't moved her hand form your thigh. "sweet" she smiles with intentions that you don't notice.

"truth" you say as you two start the round. "pussy" dina says finally removing her hand from your thigh, you're a water fountain at six flags by now but you never admit that to your best friend, that would be weird. "what is your favorite season" she asks with seriousness. "are you fucking with me?" you laugh, ask me something better than that. "oh? you want a challenge huh? you think you can handle it? she smirks at you. "come on deen, bring on" you think she'll ask you something pg-13 of what boy/girl do you like on camp--- " "what porn do you watch?" woah holy shit, you weren't expecting that. "don't challenge me pretty one without expecting some heat back". there you go, looking red as bob the tomato himself. "umm umm, usually lesbian but i get some straight just for... strap affect" *as you giggle. dina raises her eyebrow... "your virgin ass knows what a strap is?" you laugh again, "yes dina i wasn't born yesterday". dina's mind really races, she has a strap in her room that she wanted to use... "no no dina, play it cool, you can't scare her off now"

"dina truth or dare" you ask snapping her from her thoughts. "dare" she says with confidence. "hmm i dare you to do a flip" you say nervously not wanting to push any boundaries. "really? that's sooo easy, you know i was in gymnastic as a kid" she gets up behind the couch with enough room and flips backwards with ease. "oof im not as young as i used to be" she giggles. "okay okay my turn lets kick it up a notch" she sits and gets oddly close to you, "who, on campus is the prettiest girl to handsomest guy on campus?" you sit and think, "well i don't really talk to many guys but adam is kinda cute and helps me with my math homework but i would never sleep with him, girls... mmm... *the weed and confidence booster kicks in a little*

"i know a girl, she's jewish, looks a lot like you" *you giggle highly. "Talia?" she says mentioning her older sister who is eight years older than you and seven to dina. "no no silly, i'm talking about y---" reality hits "shit shit, i gave myself away, fuck this new weed, fuck why did it say that, she's gonna hate me, she's my best friend". you are interrupted again by dina saying "do you like me y/n". fuck, dina can be intimidating to others, she scared off your ex girlfriend once, friends who have wronged you and even your own mother when need be, but this intimidating stare was filled with passion and soft eyes but confusion over all. "y-- yes, i do, fuck i didn't wanna ruin anything because we have been friends for years and i didn't wanna fuck anything up... shit i should g---"

a/n: woah, sorry this super long, i had to split it into two parts, it'll be up on my page as well. i hope you all enjoyed reading my first smut fic. i'm sorry if things aren't your tea, i wrote it from personal reads to personal ideas. if you want anything else that i'd be comfortable reading let me know. you don't see too many dina stories but i hope this once you enjoyed.

- c

[sepublic]

So I remember reading this book about indigenous belief systems called The Spell of the Sensuous a while back, as part of a class assignment. At the start is an interesting anecdote by the author in which he recalls a visit to Bali, during which he resided at a local's house. He noticed his wife setting out platters of rice outside for the 'spirits', which disappeared. But then he realized, it wasn't 'spirits' taking the rice, but just ants!

At first he chuckles to himself, silly locals! But then he realizes; The ants ARE the spirits! Not in the sense that they're considered as these abstract, magical beings; But that to the locals, there was no distinction between spirits and all of the mundane animals and other facets of the ecosystem. There is no distinction between the ecosystem and humans either, humans are spirits too, etc.

The author realizes; There's a bunch of ant colonies around the house, but no ants inside the house, so how do the locals deal with them? Pesticide? No, they just set out rice platters, which are closer to the colonies than their homes; Thus, it's more convenient for the ants to take rice from the platters, than go inside the locals' homes.

And it's always enough rice to keep them sated, too; By providing routine offerings to the spirits, the humans have reached a mutual relationship with the ants (just as plants and animals do with one another all the time, we are a part of nature too), where the ants mind the humans' territory, in return for food. It was an enlightening revelation, and I myself wonder if this tactic is viable for my own home! It sounds a lot more sustainable than pesticide, and probably cheaper too.

If you're seeing this post in the tags, you're probably wondering what this has to do with Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. In the eighth arc Jojolion, there's a scene where a fruit farmer explains to the protagonists that rather than tainting his crops with pesticide to protect them from critters, he instead plants a second, sacrificial crop downhill; This crop, which he puts less effort in, is what the critters keep themselves sated on instead. One crop must die so the other may live... so humans could eat them instead.

Shintoism is a common belief system in Japan; Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is a Japanese manga, made by a Japanese mangaka, in Japan for a largely Japanese audience. Shintoism believes in the concept of Kami, which isn't comparable to Gods in say Greek myth; And from my understanding of it, it operates more akin to spirits, like what was mentioned in Bali, with even humans being capable of being considered Kami.

I find it interesting how both ideas are present in different parts of Asia (and probably more places), especially when you consider the Blessings of the Earth theme that Jojolion has. There's definitely an interest in a relationship with the land that's begun in the previous arc Steel Ball Run, which emphasizes land as a major resource; It's a motive for Native American racer Sandman, Dr. Ferdinand rants about paying respects to the land, the Holy Corpse warps the land, etc.

There's also a theme of indigeneity, which involves natives' relationship with the land. The following, ongoing arc is The Jojolands, which also seems concerned with indigeneity in its setting of Hawaii, the Lava Rocks, and the presence of a foreign company; Though I've been behind on a few chapters, so don't bring stuff up from there just yet!

Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan had an arc involving the 'Gods of the Mountain', so it's interesting to see how his own cultural background, obviously, influences his work. In particular, I wonder if the Mechanism that Jodio speaks of is related to the concept of everything being part of an interconnected system, hence things like Flow or Calamity, and the emphasis on Luck as an element.

Luck emphasizes a Cause-Effect system, which is an extension of everything being interconnected, which necessitates a cultivating relationship with the land; You put Good stuff in, you get Good stuff out, and the same goes for Bad things. Hence the concept of Karma, hence Stands like Ticket to Ride or Wonder of U. The Lava Rocks are part of the land and influence luck to bring blessings. I'm very curious to see where Araki is planning to go from here...

[crownsofesha]

Wedding Lookbook ~ Religious ~ Esther Seymour & Amelia Holmes

Esther Seymour

Outfit One - The Matchmaker

The process of Shidduch, or matchmaking, is quite simple really. Especially if you have already met the person you want to marry. Once a couple has decided they wish to take the step of marriage, their parents will arrange a visit with the Shadchan, or matchmaker. The Shadchan will then control the negotiations between the two families and find an auspicious date for the wedding. A Shadchan can also be consulted if someone wishes to get married and isn't currently in a relationship. The Shadchan will introduce them to others that have similar values and matching needs for a relationship.

Traditionally when visiting the Shadchan, one will wear purple and white lace. Purple being a common color for wedding dress, symbolizing royalty. A perfect color for weddings in Esha due to the people getting married are "royals" during their wedding.

Hair/Earrings/Dress/Necklace/Gloves/Tights/Shoes

Outfit Two - Tenaim Ceremony

The Teniam occurs at the and of the Shidduch negotiations. It traditionally announced that two or more families had come to terms on a match between their children. The document setting out their agreement, which is also called a tenaim, includes the dowry and other financial arrangements, and the date and time of the chuppah (the actual wedding ceremony).

During the Teniam Ceremony the document read or sung allowed by an esteemed guest, is signed by all parties getting married, and a dish is smashed, usually by the parents or a guardian of the to be wedded parties.

Lace, flowers, fruits like grapes and pomegranates are traditional symbols worn by the to be wedded parties.

Hair/Earrings/Dress/Tights/Shoes

Amelia Holmes

Outfit Three - The Aufruf

It is typically held on the Shabbat (or Friday) before the wedding. All to be wedded parties go to the synagogue and recite a blessing over the Torah. In some families, members of their families will also participate. After the blessing, a song is sung in honor of the to be wedded and candy is then thrown onto them.

After this ceremony, the to be wedded parties are then separated. They won't see each other for an entire week before their wedding. As way to prove their commitment to the marriage, that even when they are separated they are committed.

Bright colors like yellow and orange are traditional. Symbols of crops like wheat and rice are also traditional. It is to symbolize abundance in the relationship for many years to come.

Hair/Earrings/Dress/Necklace/Bracelet/Shoes

Outfit Four - The Mikvah

On the day before the wedding, a to be wedded person goes to the Mikvah, a ritual bath to achieve ritual purity. This is a very private and important ceremony. Depending on how spiritual a person, it can also be seen as a way to cleanse oneself of negative energies like the evil eye and spirits. When entering the Mikvah, one must not have any barriers one. This includes clothing, jewelry, makeup, nail polish, fake nails, false eyelashes, contact lenses, or grooming products on the hair or skin. One usually takes a normal bath or shower before entering the Mikvah to make sure they are clean.

After the Mikvah the to be wedded parties will have a henna ceremony with important close family members and close friends.

There isn't a traditional dress to wear to the Mikvah since you are just going to take it off. Usually you would wear something that is easy to take off and put back on. And no makeup and jewelry is worn.

Hair/Dress/Henna/Shoes

The general symbolism for the wedding process includes things like lace for purity, the evil eye for protection (this includes things that look like eyes), and fruits & crops for abundance.

[tendaysofrain]

Random Stuff #13:  Cats in China--History (Part 1)

(Warning:  Very long post ahead with multiple pictures!)

(Link to Part 2)

Since this topic is pretty big, I will split the content across 4 posts, but even then these posts will only be a shallow summary of the subject.  

This small series of posts is dedicated to my fluffy quadrupedal friend, 小葱 (Little Green Onion).

-------------------------------------------------

Did you know that there are over 200 cats in the Palace Museum/故宫博物院 in Beijing?  Some of these cats were descendants of the pet cats of the imperial family hundreds of years ago, and some of these cats were simply strays, but they all found a home in the Palace Museum, and are now being fed and taken care of by the museum employees.  You may even catch a glimpse of one of these cats during a visit to the museum.

Here are two of these cats, Jixiang/吉祥 (right; name means “auspicious”) and Ruyi/如意 (left; name means “(may things go) according to (one’s) wishes”)

Speaking of the Old Palace and royal kitties, cats actually have a fairly long history of being mousers and human companions in China, and sometimes they were even seen as powerful spirits to be both worshipped and feared.  

Cats As Guardian Spirits

According to archaeological evidence, in China, cats came into people’s lives as early as 5300 years ago (~3300 BC).  People of the Neolithic Yangshao Culture/仰韶文化 (~5000 - 3000 BC) in what is now central China grew millet, rice, and vegetables.  These crops were bound to attract small rodents like mice and rats to human villages, which attracted wild cats in turn.  There were no evidence showing that these wild cats had any sort of special or intimate bond with humans yet, so the relationship was likely a simple mutualistic relationship in which cats benefitted from having a steady source of prey, while humans benefitted from having their harvest protected from rodents.  In the Book of Rites/《禮記》, a book detailing Zhou dynasty (1046 - 256 BC) etiquettes, administration, and ceremonial rites, there was a passage on the religious aspect of this mutualistic relationship:

“The wise and gentle rulers of yore will always repay the good deeds that others have done for them.  Welcome the cats, for they are hunters of mice; welcome the tigers, for they are hunters of boars; welcome them and worship them”.  (“古之君子，使之必報之。迎貓，為其食田鼠也；迎虎，為其食田豕也，迎而祭之也 。”)  

-- Book of Rites, The Great Suburban Sacrificial Rites chapter (《禮記·郊特牲》).

As we can see in this short passage, people in ancient China regarded cats as spiritual beings--one of eight important animal spirits worshipped in the great ritual at the end of the year that must be performed by the ruler--and made offerings to them as a way to thank them for controlling rodent populations in the fields and protecting the year’s harvest.

^ Illustration by 国馆 on Zhihu.

Cats as Evil Ghosts

In ancient folk belief, however, cats eventually became associated with wugu/巫蛊, which can be generally understood as “witchcraft” or “black magic”.  Practitioners would sacrifice cats and keep “cat ghosts”/猫鬼, then send them out to curse whoever they wish to harm and steal money from.  There was one famous case of this during Sui dynasty (581 - 618 AD) that was recorded in Book of Sui /《隋書》, the traditional official historical records of Sui dynasty that was completed in 636 AD.  As the chapter “Consort Kin” (《隋書·外戚》) described, when Empress Dugu and Head of Secretariat Yang Su’s wife fell ill, the doctors diagnosed their illnesses as “caused by cat ghosts”.  Emperor Wen of Sui/隋文帝 (personal name Yang Jian/楊堅) assumed that Dugu Tuo/獨孤陀 was behind the mysterious illnesses since Dugu Tuo was the paternal half-brother of Empress Dugu and his wife was the paternal half-sister of Yang Su, but Dugu Tuo denied having anything to do with it.  So his household was questioned, and finally one of his housemaids confessed to be a practitioner of “witchcraft” and that she had cursed Empress Dugu and Yang Su’s family with her cat ghost under orders from Dugu Tuo.  Dugu Tuo was stripped of all his titles along with his wife, and both were demoted to commoner status.  So as we can see it was big enough in folk belief that it actually made its way into some imperial family drama.  After this event, Emperor Wen of Sui declared a ban on these practices that were meant to cause harm to others.

^ A modern illustration of a “Cat ghost”, from the work titled Hundred Ghosts of China/《中国百鬼录》.

Cats in Analogies and Folklore

Cats have also been used in the classic cat-and-mouse analogies in different situations.  During Wu Zetian/武則天’s ascent to power in Tang dynasty in 655 AD, she was involved in a power struggle with Empress Wang and Consort Xiao, and after some back-and-forths, Empress Wang and Consort Xiao were demoted to commoner status and imprisoned.  Consort Xiao then cursed Wu Zetian, saying:

“May you become a mouse and I a cat, so I can choke you!”  (”願阿武為老鼠，吾作貓兒，生生扼其喉！”)

-- Old Book of Tang, ”Empresses and Consorts Part 1”/《舊唐書· 后妃上》

Apparently after this happened, Wu Zetian banned cats from the palace out of fear.

Another example of this cat-and-mouse analogy was the memorial Su Shi/蘇軾 submitted to Emperor Shenzong of Song/宋神宗 (personal name Zhao Xu/趙頊) that argued against the parts of the reform proposed by Wang Anshi/王安石.  This memorial was preserved and later named《上神宗皇帝書》.  In it, Su Shi argued that government officials must be able to freely object another official’s proposal in order to prevent treacherous officials from gaining too much power with this analogy:  

“We keep cats in order to keep mice at bay, but we cannot keep cats who can’t catch mice just because there are no mice around; we keep dogs in order to keep burglars away from our homes, but we cannot keep dogs that don’t bark just because there are no burglars around”.  (”然而養貓所以去鼠，不可以無鼠而養不捕之貓。畜狗所以防奸，不可以無奸而畜不吠之狗”)  

There weren’t only cat-and-mouse analogies, however.  There's a short fable about cats and tigers that was passed down through the generations from at least Song dynasty all the way to the present day.  Even I have heard of this story as a child.  In this fable, the tiger was initially very clumsy, so the tiger asked a cat to teach it how to hunt.  The cat agreed and taught the tiger how to track down, stalk, pounce, and play with prey, but refrained from teaching the tiger about tree-climbing.  The tiger eventually mastered the art of hunting, and one day the tiger turned on its teacher, the cat, who then climbed atop a tree to save its own life.  The moral of the story was either “never teach others everything you know, in case they use your knowledge against you”, or “never teach those who are ungrateful”, which resulted in the xiehouyu/歇后语 (a type of Chinese proverb) “cat teaching the tiger -- withhold some of your abilities” (“猫教老虎--留一手”).  Of course, this fable doesn’t really stand in terms of scientific accuracy, seeing as tigers are proficient tree-climbers themselves, but the fable itself is still very interesting nonetheless.  Although the origin of this fable has now faded into obscurity, the earliest record I could find was from the self-annotation on the poem “Mocking the Cats”/《嘲畜貓》 by the famous Song-era poet Lu You/陸游 in 1198 AD, which showed that this fable was already popular in folk culture in Southern Song dynasty:

“In folk belief cats were the uncles of tigers, they taught the tigers everything except how to climb trees”.  (“俗言貓為虎舅，教虎百為���不教上樹”)

^ Modern illustration of the fable, from children’s book The Tiger and the Cat by Eitaro Oshima.

Historical texts showed that at least from Southern and Northern dynasties (420 - 589 AD) and on, most people kept cats for their ability to catch mice, and oftentimes keeping cats as just house pets was something that was still limited to royalty, nobility, and rich people.  But as we would see in Part 2, there were evidence from Song dynasty that showed a definite change in how cats were viewed in the ordinary household.

(Part 2 Here!)

[esoteric-chaos]

Autumn Equinox Masterpost - Spoonie witch friendly

The Autumn Equinox. This holiday typically falls around September 21st. This welcomes the transition from summer to fall by celebrating the season and honoring crops.

The Autumn Equinox marks the end of the summer harvest season, the second harvest. 

People gather and celebrate the harvest with feasts and gatherings of the folk.

Autumn Equinox Correspondences 

Colours

Dark brown

Burnt orange

Deep green

Dark red

Golden yellow

Earth tones

Herbal

Bay Laurel

Sage

Yarrow

Cinnamon

Rose Hips

Sunflowers

Ash

Oak

Maple

Edibles

Pumpkin

Wheat / Bread

Apples

Corn

Zucchini

Squash

Acorns / Nuts

Root veggies

Stew or chili

Wassail (Credit to Salem from The Cobalt Athenaeum Discord server)

Animals

Stag

Owl

Blackbird

Squirrels

Salmon

Crystals

Citrine

Amber

Quartz

Aventurine

Gold

Ruby

Tiger’s Eye

Symbols

Cornucopia

Hay

Scarecrows

Leaves

Pinecones

Spiritual meanings

Shadow Work

Gratitude

Home protection

Balance

The folk

Accomplishments

Goal setting

Abundance

Harvesting and agriculture

Transition

Scents

Apple

Clove

Cinnamon

Pumpkin

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Persepone – (Greek)

Demeter – (Greek)

Morrígan – (Irish)

Epona – (Gallo-Roman)

Pomona – (Roman)

Modron – (Welsh)

Bona Dea – (Roman)

Ceres – (Roman)

Mabon – (“The Great Son”) - (Welsh)

Thoth – (Ancient Egyptian)

Hermes – (Greek)

Thor – (Norse)

Dionysis – (Greek)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations

Baking

Hearth magic

Protection rituals

Spend time with the folk

Prosperity ritual

Crafting a money bowl (Add rice, trust me)

Make apple based products (apple cider, apple pie, etc)

Make Wassail (Credit to Salem from The Cobalt Athenaeum Discord server)

Low energy celebrations

Healing bath ritual

Light a candle in honor

Prayer to Gods/Goddesses

Journal

Eat some fresh produce

No spoon celebrations

Chat with friends or family online

Drink apple juice, cider, spiced cider

Tell yourself kind words

Thank the harvest when you are able to fuel your body for taking care of you

Remember that it’s okay if you cant do much while you are unwell. That you come first and you simply existing is a blessing.

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Edited on 9/21/24

[okuratsukiko]

And here I have my one of many RoR ocs' reference sheet.

I've made this a while ago but I wanna post it here too ><

Lemme introduce you to Dewi Sri, The Goddess of Rice and Fertility from th Ancient Javanese Pantheon!!

A human who ascended to the heavens, becoming a God along with her younger brother. The Goddess who cares for the people through crops and harvests. Sri has always put a smile on her face despite the tragedies that had happened to her. Because behind that smile of hers was a story of sorrows and struggle to protect her loved ones.

Facts about her : - She was married to Vishnu. Their marriage was a punishment for Sri because she was an accomplice to a major incident in her pantheon - Sri has two sons, one when she was with Vishnu and the other is with her current spouse - While Sri has two sons in Godhood, she never had any in her times as a human. Unlike her, Sadana, Sri's younger brother had one. - Sri may not be proficient in combat, but she has a vast world of knowledge in her head. Spells and curses are up in her alley.

p.s. about her falling for one of the human champions, I changed that bit ^^'. Currently she's married to one of my mutual's oc!

Also I will post fake screenshots of my other RoR ocs here too if you all want to see more!

[ririya-translates]

Miguel

In June 2023, Ishida posted a short story about Miguel from the Jack Jeanne winter play for Fumi's birthday. The original post includes a drawing and a music link to listen to as you read. I'm still just an amateur, but I did my best to translate it to English. I also tried to maintain the poetic Twitter short story structure as much as possible. (Note that this has both plot and character spoilers about the winter play)

Miguel, as a child on the prosperous Neshiromi Farm, Lived happily outside of Havenna.

Sowing seeds in hot summers and passing time through cold winters, Bore plentiful good fruit.

2. Neshiromi fruit, with its long-protected cultivation traditions, Boasted a mellow fragrance and refreshing sweetness. When trading with merchants from the northern cities, it would sell out in less than a few days.

3. Miguel loved his work. In the village, life was too busy to even notice boredom But, in this quiet life, nothing felt missing.

One day he would inherit the family business, And be joined in marriage to the house of a daughter of a respectable family friend. It would then be his turn to pass the ancestors' traditions on to his descendants.

There was no conceivable path other than this.

4. The battle in the north continued into its 47th winter. Shadows of the flames of war extended towards Miguel's village.

Soldiers armed with bayonets arrived. The crop fields were devastated to shreds. His father, mother, and even his grandmother with a long-time leg injury, were all killed. The house was set aflame.

In the village, the ones being utterly crushed underfoot in the inferno and the screaming, Miguel turned his back on them, and fled alone.

5. He was headed for Havenna.

In that city whose name he once heard, The pleasure and the numbness, was said to make one forget everything. For Miguel, this was necessary.

He could only keep walking.

There was absolutely nothing but ruined land and yet, Like a fool, he continued

6. Upon reaching Havenna, Miguel started work in a room of the night.

As he had nothing, his only option was to sell himself.

Every night, he filled the loneliness of random strangers. As the days added up, he sensed a growing thirst inside.

In the overwhelm of his own misery, whenever he was alone, He remembered life in his hometown and cried often.

7. He wanted support from someone but, Fleeing the village alone made him ashamed of himself. Even to close friends, he was unable to open his heart.

By going to these lengths simply to gather money, He felt as if he was becoming defiled.

Gradually, this grew into a sense of punishment for his sins. He thought instead that he deserved to become defiled.

8. At this same time, a woman in a similar line of work Became friends with him. She was a liar. It was carefree and easy.

When they had free time, they would purchase it from each other. It supported him living in Havenna, however; He thought they would never be truly close.

He liked her, but all possible paths seemed to lead to ruin, So he was afraid.

9. At one point, he fell in love with his friend's friend. Despite being in Havenna, she was inexperienced and pretty.

10. Rukiora. "Farewell to the night" He thought the name quite strange, but it seemed to be her real name.

His heart was stolen by her clear singing voice. He could never say it, but he wanted her all to himself he tho-….

11. Rukiora always dreamt of a future outside of Havenna.

Outside of Havenna was beautiful, it was fun. Everything would happily exist out there for certain.

He wanted to tell her for her sake. Someday she would know the truth and he wanted to keep her from being hurt.

12. "You're wrong, Rukiora. The outside is wasteland as far as the eye can see. The rice paddies, the fields, they aren't there. I know this. It's where I came from."

13. (Neji's note/ Miguel leaves Havenna. On his departure, he tells Rukiora one final lie. He returns to his homeland and begins sowing seeds.)

[Note: Ishida says that these are his personal ideas so they aren't considered proper canon without Towada as they both created the game closely together. Towada retweeted the thread.

I also wanted to acknowledge a Japanese friend (who asked to stay anonymous) for their help.]