#topic: lies and truth

[sansastarkmeta]

Sansa, the whistleblower

The following indented paragraphs are all quoted from a post by @bidonica from 2011 (I'm reposting the bulk of it with permission).

I think we shouldn't underestimate the angle of both Sandor and Petyr not only playing a role in her disillusionment in knights and honor in general, but also triggering Sansa's sexual awakening in sort of an oblique way ("oblique" especially when comparing it to Dany's - I think that by now Sansa is of the same age as Daenerys in AGoT?). The scene where she overhears Lysa and Petyr having sex and then she has a nightmare about her wedding night where she substitutes Tyrion with Sandor really stuck with me in this sense. So idk, while I think that Petyr's impact on Sansa's arc is the one now on the forefront - and also the one that makes for the biggest ripercussions on the bigger story - I'm not sure Sandor is entirely out of her life either? Mostly because I think he and Petyr kind of act as each other's foil where Sansa is concerned, one is all about the importance of lies while the other is all about telling it like it is, down to the physicality like Sandor being huge and rough where Petyr is short and refined. I'm also pretty sure that Sandor is projecting on Sansa just as much as Petyr is projecting his dream!Cat on her

Bold emphasis is mine because I thought it was a really interesting observation. (And if anyone has written about this or has thoughts to share, please do!)

(though it bugs the hell out of me that GRRM uses "little bird" both as Sandor's nickname for Sansa and for Varys' child spies. Which from an in-story perspective is probably just a coincidence because it's a common phrase or something? But is it? #secondguessingEVERYTHING)

Sandor calls Sansa a little bird because he's calling her out on repeating back things she's been taught, like a parrot would. Varys' little birds act similarly in the sense that it's in their job description as spies to repeat everything they hear back to Varys. Of course, unlike Varys, Sansa doesn't exactly have some grand hidden political agenda.

But there's definitely food for thought there in terms of how it can relate back to Petyr who like Varys has his own spy network, but unlike Varys brings the bird motif directly onto himself (his personal arms bear mockingbirds… singing birds), and later onto Sansa through her posing as his bastard daughter Alayne (he even gifts her a mockingbird brooch as we learn in AFFC Alayne II) and teaching her how to play the game of thrones. Add in Bran who is being taught to use the weirwoods to see through time and space (and eventually influence events) by Bloodraven, and who has his own bird motif going on… I guess GRRM really wants us to know birds go hand in hand with scheming in ASOIAF. And scheming definitely deals with questions of honesty and falsehoods, a recurring theme in Sansa's storyline.

We see Sansa become a more convincing liar throughout the books, but also become more comfortable with lies under Petyr's influence (see AFFC Sansa I) as he starts teaching/manipulating/grooming her all at the same time. Sandor called out Sansa on her so-called lies which was really about enacting "courtesy is a lady's armor" – and he wasn't the only one, Cersei and Tyrion call out Sansa too, in their thoughts or to her face. Depending on the scene, Sansa was just trying to be polite or her responses were the placating strategy of an abuse victim protecting herself from more potential abuse. It's worth mentioning Arya too, both a foil and parallel to her sister, who vocally chafed against Sansa's actual lies, and has been resorting to vigilantism lately. All this on top of an overarching thematic preoccupation with justice/honor/ideals found in almost every POV.

I'm entering speculation territory here, but I think this theme of truths/lies, the tension that derives from having values you want to uphold, and the time and place for it all will play out and come to a head in the context of confronting the reality of who Petyr is and the fine line she is walking alongside him in terms of culpability/responsibility. (In addition to what has already happened, who knows what else Petyr gets them entagled in by the time we see a resolution to this portion of her storyline.) Such a moment would also be an oppotunity to showcase Sansa honing her political skills (student surpassing the teacher trope, assuming she manages to keep her head which if nothing else seems a safe bet), as well as a step on her path to healing, likely as she brings him to justice for his crimes by coming forward as a witness or even accomplice. Sort of acting as a whistleblower, and here we're back to the little bird/mockingbird of it all.

[panxramic]

Tallulah and Promises

Something I’ve always liked keeping an eye on and is so bittersweet about Tallulah’s character is her relationship with promises. I’m not quite sure when it became so intense, maybe it’s been there since the beginning, but Tallulah for a long time has had a unique relationship with making and keeping a promise.

I want to say that first and foremost, how she handles promises can be incredibly childish. Both because they can be nonsensical and “immature” AND because well, she’s a child. What kind of promise do you expect from a child?

A promise is everything to her, it’s a contract. Its words set in stone and written in the stars. A promise CANNOT be broken. Doesn’t matter who it is, a promise is a promise and you keep it. And it’s not all bad. Things like this can be reasonable right? She’ll get upset of course when someone makes a promise or when she can’t keep hers. She uses promises as a way to hold out hope. She uses them to keep herself and those around her accountable, so she has the assurance that they’ll do what they promised and she’ll do what she promised. That no matter what happens in the world, no matter what life throws at her, she can count on those promises.

So when someone breaks it, when she can’t live up to her promises, it shatters her world view.

And then the problems start to stack up, especially when we get into the realm of false promises, it starts becoming a mess. A mess of false hope. Because remember, to her, promises can be translated to hope (another big part of her character).

Gonna breeze pass through this one but she did make a promise when she first joined the island. A promise to someone, who never kept up his end of it, and she held on to it for MONTHS. For months that child held out her promise and repeatedly brought it up again and again that no matter what she was gonna be alive for when he came back and when he needed her. With not a sign of him returning that promise to her. And this promise was also hope. Hope she wasn’t gonna be left alone again, abandoned.

And that’s when we get into false promises. Because although Tallulah does value them a lot, she also asks for people to promise her things that sometimes cannot be done. There have been countless of times she has tried asking q!Phil to promise her something, but q!Phil has rarely ever promised her anything (with a handful of exceptions). He’s careful, he’s always very careful about what he promises to her because he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t keep. And whenever he doesn’t promise her something, I feel like a part of Tallulah’s hope gets cracked. Because without a promise, how positive is she that q!Phil will keep his word? How hopeful can she really be that everything will be okay?

She hangs onto promises like a lifeline. They’re the one tether that can keep her hope afloat. And she remembers them, remembers her promises like a burn on her skin.

She’s done the same thing to q!Bad. Has asked if he could promise things, like promise that he wasn’t dying, but q!Bad never could. And when people can’t promise something, she has little hope that everything will be okay.

And some promises she asks for can be so… nonsensical. Promises we know, and I KNOW she knows, cannot be made. But she asks for them anyway. Because she’s a child. A child who just wants everything to be okay and wants her Papa Phil to promise that nothing bad will ever happen to him, to promise that he will never leave them, because she’s a terrified kid of being abandoned again and not having that reassurance, that solid ground, that things will be okay.

But q!Phil can’t promise that. And it aches.

One time she broke that barrier, she couldn’t take it anymore. She asked q!Bad to promise her something and he refused to. And afterwards she just told him to promise it to her even if it’s a lie. She full on broke that glass wall and was transparent.

Pinky promise to me you would not die

At least lie to me

And he did.

Because promises make her feel better. She holds onto them until she can’t, even if it is filled with lies. Because sometimes a child asks for a promise and they don’t expect the truth, they just expect comfort. Because it’s the only thing they can handle.

It’s so sad to watch her hold onto promises that she KNOWS deep in her heart can’t be kept. But still she wishes and she hopes and she believes in these lies as if they’re the only thing holding her up above ground.

Sometimes the promises she asks for can be unreasonable. She puts up a wall to protect herself because reality is scary, it’s terrifying. Tallulah values the truth like no other. She hates lies and she hates when people like q!Phil and Chayanne hide things from her. But when it comes to her dad potentially abandoning her, when it comes to him dying and leaving her, she’d rather believe everything will be okay than face the harsh reality of what’s going on.

And this topic has a lot of nuances I won’t get specifically into. It’s a blend of promises and lies and hope and truth. The lies the promises hold aren’t the same as someone straight up lying to her face and hiding things from her. It’s different instances of a lie.

Anyways, again, a lot of different things I can get into and definitions to go through BUT I will to say that it’s not wrong of her to want to believe everything will be okay. I’m an optimist at heart. ‘Hope’ to me is important and I think it isn’t wrong to have it even when things are looking down. But, something specifically for Tallulah is that alongside that hope, she also is terrified of reality (rightfully so) and tries to erase it by making a promise. And essentially, that’s not how the world works.

It’s such a childish way of thinking. You cannot erase the bad things from happening with a promise. And that’s what Tallulah sometimes does. If she makes q!Phil promise that he won’t leave her, then surely he won’t. That’s how promises work right?

Tallulah holds herself to these promises too. She does everything in her power to keep her word. When she doesn’t, when she breaks a promise she makes, she beats herself up for it.

That first promise she made? She broke it during purgatory and it broke her. It was one of the many accumulated reasons why she hated Purgatory island and everything associated with it. And when she broke that promise a piece of her hope broke with it.

Whenever Tallulah makes a promise to q!Phil she engraves it in her mind. She does everything in her power to keep it. And when she’s accused of breaking a promise, she panics and becomes defensive. She looks back into her mind to see if she ever DID make that promise and if she didn’t she starts defending herself. The conversation begins to shift from the actual issue to “no I never made that promise I didn’t promise you anything I didn’t break anything.” Because it’s SUPER important to her. The idea of breaking a promise is like a rock to glass. So she remembers the promises she makes.

Promises for Tallulah are a childish way for her to rewrite reality. But they’re also a way for her to have hope. There’s a balance when it comes to having hope and being able to see reality for what it is. And it’s something Tallulah struggles with. And I don’t blame her for it.

A child who cannot cope with reality will make pinky promises of clear skies and sunny days. A child who cannot handle the possibility of being abandoned again will make someone promise her to never leave even if she knows things are out of his control. Because in the mind of a child, a promise cannot be broken.

A promise is sealed. It’s a binding rope that should never give. So if Tallulah can make q!Phil promise her things, then that means he will never leave her, that means he will never hurt her. If Tallulah can make q!Bad promise her he won’t die then she can live in the lie that he will be okay. If she can promise to always be by her brothers side then surely they will never be separated again.

Because promise can’t be broken.

Right?

(Deep down inside, she knows).

[spaceratprodigy]

one of my favorite things abt how faith reacts to max in fallbrook arc is her being directly faced with her own hypocrisy

[wygolvillage]

i will not get in pointless arguments over my favorite video game guy online. i will not get in pointless arguments over my favorite video game guy online. i will not get in pointless arguments over my favorite video game guy online. i will n

[arrivingonthescene]

drama and phys instrument: let's not arrest klaasje she looks so scared. it would be horrible let's just leave and stop pushing her

then a volition check lets you basically slap "sense" into drama and it changes its mind immediately, that klaasje should be arrested. and going down all the dialogue chains shifts the mood of talking to klaasje- where she told you mixed lies, suddenly harry is pushing the point that the police call was fake, with drama goading you on despite the other voices chiming in with the fact the evidence does line up that she made the call...

they frame it as klaasje fucking with the int. side of harry's skills and volition says they (logic, rhetoric, especially drama) are not to be trusted, and when the seed of doubt is planted suddenly all your dialogue choices become "she lied about this specific thing that i corroborated with kim over being true, regardless i will keep threatening arrest over this". drama even pushes that she lied about mundane shit like the beauty pageant.

on the flip side, if you fail the volition check, drama stays adamant that you shouldn't pursue this. which, it isn't entirely wrong, she IS lying about things.

but what is arresting her even going to help, or demanding her fear of your badge. your skills can be straight up wrong or misinterpreting the situation, but harry thinking he's correct leads to, for me, one of his worst displays of abusing his status as a cop. here's a woman you've cornered and you're punishing her for lying to you. arrest her for getting in the way. and kim is jingling the handcuffs the entire time he wants it too. how fucked!

[somegiantmess]

This tool seems promising! All your questions about climate change answered through AI based on the most reliable sources ever, i.e. the IPCC and IPBES reports (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services)

[wasmormon]

Was the first vision a “vision”? Was it the “first” one? Which one is “The” first vision? There are so many different accounts. The gospel topic essay mentions some of the main versions, but they also gloss over the differences and dismiss them all. The First Vision is a total misnomer and can be completely debunked with some simple reading and thinking. Something the church does not want members to do, they do everything they can to keep members from looking at the accounts. They first tried to hide them, and then they dismiss them by saying "we’ve always been honest and transparent about these accounts, and they all tell the same consistent story anyways, so don’t worry, trust us" ...

[jadenvargen]

free online james baldwin stories, essays, videos, and other resources

**edit

James baldwin online archive with his articles and photo archives.

---NOVELS---

Giovanni's room"When David meets the sensual Giovanni in a bohemian bar, he is swept into a passionate love affair. But his girlfriend's return to Paris destroys everything. Unable to admit to the truth, David pretends the liaison never happened - while Giovanni's life descends into tragedy. This book introduces love's fascinating possibilities and extremities."

Go Tell It On The Mountain"(...)Baldwin's first major work, a semi-autobiographical novel that has established itself as an American classic. With lyrical precision, psychological directness, resonating symbolic power, and a rage that is at once unrelenting and compassionate, Baldwin chronicles a fourteen-year-old boy's discovery of the terms of his identity as the stepson of the minister of a storefront Pentecostal church in Harlem one Saturday in March of 1935. Baldwin's rendering of his protagonist's spiritual, sexual, and moral struggle of self-invention opened new possibilities in the American language and in the way Americans understand themselves."

+bonus: film adaptation on youtube. (if you’re a giancarlo esposito fan, you’ll be delighted to see him in an early preacher role)

Another Country and Going to Meet the Man Another country: "James Baldwin's masterly story of desire, hatred and violence opens with the unforgettable character of Rufus Scott, a scavenging Harlem jazz musician adrift in New York. Self-destructive, bad and brilliant, he draws us into a Bohemian underworld pulsing with heat, music and sex, where desperate and dangerous characters betray, love and test each other to the limit." Going to meet the Man: " collection of eight short stories by American writer James Baldwin. The book, dedicated "for Beauford Delaney", covers many topics related to anti-Black racism in American society, as well as African-American–Jewish relations, childhood, the creative process, criminal justice, drug addiction, family relationships, jazz, lynching, sexuality, and white supremacy."

Just Above My Head"Here, in a monumental saga of love and rage, Baldwin goes back to Harlem, to the church of his groundbreaking novel Go Tell It on the Mountain, to the homosexual passion of Giovanni's Room, and to the political fire that enflames his nonfiction work. Here, too, the story of gospel singer Arthur Hall and his family becomes both a journey into another country of the soul and senses--and a living contemporary history of black struggle in this land."

If Beale Street Could Talk"Told through the eyes of Tish, a nineteen-year-old girl, in love with Fonny, a young sculptor who is the father of her child, Baldwin's story mixes the sweet and the sad. Tish and Fonny have pledged to get married, but Fonny is falsely accused of a terrible crime and imprisoned. Their families set out to clear his name, and as they face an uncertain future, the young lovers experience a kaleidoscope of emotions-affection, despair, and hope. In a love story that evokes the blues, where passion and sadness are inevitably intertwined, Baldwin has created two characters so alive and profoundly realized that they are unforgettably ingrained in the American psyche."

also has a film adaptation by moonlight's barry jenkins

Tell Me How Long the Train's been gone At the height of his theatrical career, the actor Leo Proudhammer is nearly felled by a heart attack. As he hovers between life and death, Baldwin shows the choices that have made him enviably famous and terrifyingly vulnerable. For between Leo's childhood on the streets of Harlem and his arrival into the intoxicating world of the theater lies a wilderness of desire and loss, shame and rage. An adored older brother vanishes into prison. There are love affairs with a white woman and a younger black man, each of whom will make irresistible claims on Leo's loyalty. 

---ESSAYS---

Baldwin essay collection. Including most famously: notes of a native son, nobody knows my name, the fire next time, no name in the street, the devil finds work- baldwin on film

--DOCUMENTARIES--

Take this hammer, a tour of san Francisco.

Meeting the man

--DEBATES:--

Debate with Malcolm x, 1963 ( on integration, the nation of islam, and other topics. )

Debate with William Buckley, 1965. ( historic debate in america. )

Heavily moderated debate with Malcolm x, Charles Eric Lincoln, and Samuel Schyle 1961. (Primarily Malcolm X's debate on behalf of the nation of islam, with Baldwin giving occassional inputs.)

----

apart from themes obvious in the book's descriptions, a general heads up for themes of incest and sexual assault throughout his works.

[proship-yomiuri]

Good luck!

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[callmearcturus]

The only way to stop misinformation and avoid inadvertently spreading radical rhetoric is to stop sharing things you haven't personally looked into.

It sucks, especially with the state of the world right now, but before you reblog something:

Is there a linked source in the post? Click through and read the article, don't reblog it on faith.

Are there verifiable claims in the post but no source? Look them up, see if you can verify what's being said.

Is someone claiming something can't be verified? Try anyway. It's possible that the truth just isn't convenient to the point the person is trying to make.

Does something sound right but you haven't learned much about the topic? You need to learn about the topic first, not from social media but from reputable sources.

Don't have the spoons to fact check? Then I'm really sorry, but don't share it. Don't reblog.

i know it sucks, I know you want to be engaged. But there is rampant misinformation on this site, and it is better to not share anything than to spread lies.

[dark-night-hero]

"So it's true! You and her- Guizhong were a thing. Then what the hell does that make me Morax?!" "Can you just drop it of? We're in a hurry." He was tired. And their friend was in danger. "No! Knowing you'll be out there to save your other lover, tell me the truth Morax! Is it true?!" It was the same topic of argument for some time now. He had been denying it over and over again, he just cannot seem to understand why you kept insisting even after hearing him say that was not the case. And he was getting tired of it.

Guizhong was just a friend and that very same friend is now in danger if they do not arrive at rhe right time and here he is getting hold up because of your questions. And knowing you would not let him go even if he were to deny it because that was the truth. Maybe he should give in for now to avoid further more questioning and leave as fast as he can so he could come back to you in now time, knowing that he could easily resolve the misunderstanding and his lies. "You know what. It's true. Now if you just get out of the way, I need to save her." "Wha-what? Wa-wait! Morax-!"

He did not mean to be harsh than he already is. He was just mad, mad because he saw no reason why you should get jealous of a friend, a common friend of yours. Mad because he was running late and a little more than to it could possibly result the death of a dear friend. At the same time, he was mad at himself for leaving that way. But he knew he could always explain when he came back into you. The two of you could always sort it out after the battle like you two always does.

So why? So why in the world- celestia were everything was on fire. And you were in the middle of it, leaning on your weapon for support, blood running down all the way from your temple into your chin. It was not just that. You are bleeding, bleeding all over. Why. Why why why why why? Just what the hell happened in here?

"Don't come." You utter, despite the fact that you could barely stand, you painfully look forward to your lover... heh, can he still be called a lover when he already admitted that he betrayed you? "Some..." you pant. "Some beings came into the city while you were away... hahh, I manage to defend the city until all the people manage to flee but- cough! Hahh, the god manage to escape."

"No. No no no no no." It was getting hard to breathe, nevertheless you should see Morax from afar, running towards you. "Bastard- I told you not to come he-!" You stagger forward, for a moment losing consciousness, still, you embrace yourself with the thought of you hitting the ground. But you never did.

"Let go." "It was a lie. There was no one else." "Morax- I said-" "I was in a hurry, I did not mean to say those words. Guizhong was only a friend. Believe me. God- Celestia. There is no one else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." He was hugging, cradling you in his arms. His tears rolling down his cheeks, into your own but you were feeling quite numb to notice that.

"It's..." You tried to hold up a hand but you could only feel the pain and the more it drains you. In the end you could only hold on into his arm. "It's okay... you don't have to lie to make me... feel better." You tried to smile to make him feel better, so why does it look like he was about to lose his whole world? "No. No please. It's nothing like that. I was a fool, I am a fool. Please believe me there is no one else but you. (First name). Please."

You knew he was talking, you can see him talking despite how things were slowly starting to go blurr, you can hear a few words but cannot seemed to focus on it when there is a high pitched ring that makes you unable to focus on what he was saying. Also, "It's cold." You mumble, fighting everything you can to stay conscious.

"Fuck!" Morax can feel your body slowly but surely cooling down. Suddenly his heart dropped as he panicked, he was getting anxious. He felt fear for the first time in his life. "Hold on, please hold on." He tried, he tried his best to fix you with his powers but it was no avail. You have so many wounds, you have already lost a lot of blood. You were dying all ago. "Fuck." He cursed once again. "Fuck, fuck! I told you to hold on (First name)!" He was getting mad again.

Morax felt like he was going mad, he felt like he was about to get crazy. Specially when he saw you starting to close your eyes. He felt a shiver down his spine. "Don't you dare close your eyes (First name)!" Not like this, not when you seemed to sure that he never loved- love you. "Fuck!" His amber iris were glowing with that presence of a dragon. "Don't you dare fell asleep (First name). I'm begging you please-?" He felt a light squeeze on his arm.

"Its.. okay." Taking your last breath, Morax felt the heavy weight of your now dead body in his arms. Your hand falling to your side as your head rest in his chest. At that very moment a rain drop fell from the sky, Morax arms were trembling yet still manage to pull you closer to him as if trying to find a little warmth. "Hah, hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA."

That day, the dragon lost his mate. His one and only mate as his anguish cries were heard all throughout their land.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: bye, may klase pa ko ng alas quatro sa hapon.

: Also, why is it always zhongli who become the victim of my angst ideas. Tho I might make a same promt with ???

[coryosmin]

innocence

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, mdni, loss of virginity, praise kink, best friend! coryo, innocent reader, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, coryo has a big dick, reader is just so cute, coriolanus is his own warning btw, soft!coryo, not my best writing but i’m sick and a slut so let’s get this done teehee

3,000 words

It all began when you were having a conversation with Arachne and Clemensia. They started talking about sex and how they hadn’t had good sex in a while, asking you if you had. To which you lied and said yes. But ultimately, you had no clue about sex. It wasn’t something that you prioritized as your main focus was on your studies. But now, it was most definitely on your mind.

Coryo had been your best friend since the two of you were children. He was the only person in the world that you could tell anything and everything. Just as he could tell you anything and everything. He had invited you over to his apartment on Corso after school, exclaiming that his grandma’am and Tigris wouldn’t be home until much later because grandma’am had a few errands she had to run. So you were sat on Coryo’s bed while he sat on his desk, working on an assignment.

You bit your lip as you looked over at your blond best friend. “Coryo,” You broke the silence.

“Hmm?” He asked, not looking up from his work.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to ask your question. Sex was a weird topic to bring up with your best friend, right? Or is it normal? Arachne and Clemensia seemed pretty chill talking about it with you. So maybe it’s a normal topic of discussion? You shook your head, deciding not to overthink it. “Have you ever had sex?”

Coriolanus dropped his pencil, clearly not expecting that question. He turned around in his chair, looking at you with an eyebrow quirked up. “Excuse me?” He asked, his blue eyes looking at you with slight amusement.

“Have you ever had sex?” You asked again, clearly unashamed by the question. Coryo’s your best friend. Of course, you can talk to him about this sort of thing.

“Why would you like to know?” He asked, his voice was neutral as he looked at you.

You sighed, slightly embarrassed by the way he was looking at you. You tried to think about how to word your explanation before speaking. “Clemensia and Arachne were talking about sex earlier,” You began to speak, your voice a bit timid. “And I felt kind of lost in the conversation.”

Coriolanus nodded his head as he listened to you. “Lost how?”

“Well, I’ve never had sex before,” You admitted, unable to help the blush on your cheeks. “And they asked me if I had and I may have lied and said yes.”

Coriolanus couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he looked at you speak to him. You were just so innocent and pure. Of course, he knew that you’ve never had sex before. He made sure of that throughout your life, saying that men were disgusting and that you could only ever trust him. Truth be told, he wanted you for himself, to rely on him to help you through these things. And now? Maybe the time has come. “Well to answer your question, I have.” He answered simply.

“Is it really as bad as Arachne and Clemensia made it sound?” You asked, tilting your head in that innocent way that Coryo always adores.

“Bad?” Coriolanus laughed in disbelief. “If they have partners that know what they’re doing, it shouldn’t be bad at all.”

Your lips formed an “o” shape as you heard Coryo’s words. “They said that their boyfriends never like prepare them,” You said nervously. This conversation was definitely awkward to have. “That it usually only lasts a few minutes and then he cums and then they’re done.”

“Then they don’t have good partners,” Coriolanus replied, shrugging his shoulders.

You simply nodded your head, understanding what Coriolanus was saying to you. You bit your lip. “What’s it supposed to feel like?”

Your question made Coriolanus inhale sharply. He was so ready to just take you. He got up from his desk and walked over to you, sitting down next to you on his bed. “Would you like me to show you?” He murmured, looking at you with his soft blue eyes. He reached up to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

Your eyes widened at his question as your cheeks reddened. “C-Coryo, we’re best friends,” You were flustered as you spoke, unable to help the tremor in your voice.

Coriolanus smiled softly at you, caressing your cheek. The coolness of your hand feeling nice on your warm skin. “It’s okay for best friends to help one another, Y/N.” He replied softly.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as he looked at you. You swallowed. “I-I don’t think best friends help each other with something like this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice.

Coriolanus chuckled, unable to help himself. “Maybe not normal best friends,” he whispered back. “But we’re best of friends.” He said, leaning in slightly. “Let me show you.” You didn’t think much about it. Not when Coryo was just so close to you. You nodded your head and Coryo smiled. “Good girl.”

That phrase alone made you clench your thighs, an action not missed by Coryo though he didn’t mention it. He simply smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You didn’t kiss back right away, just relishing in the feeling of Coryo’s lips on yours. They were so soft and sweet and tasted like the pastries you had brought earlier when you came over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you began to kiss Coryo back, moving your lips in sync with his.

This technically wasn’t your first kiss. Your first kiss was with Sejanus Plinth back in sophomore year when you both talked about not ever having your first kiss. So while you’re not the most experienced person, you have at least kissed someone. Though you never told Coryo about it.

Coriolanus deepened the kiss, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your head. He kissed you as though his life depended on it, needing your lips to survive. His tongue traced your lips and you couldn’t help but part them as he began to explore your mouth. You let out a small moan at the feeling, causing Coriolanus to inhale. You were wearing a dress. Just a simple one that you changed into after school before heading to Coryo’s house. And Coriolanus was grateful because it made things easier.

Coryo’s free hand moved down your body gently and slowly, warming you up to his touch. And as his fingers loosely played with the hem of your dress, Coriolanus removed his lips from yours, moving to kiss your neck. You gasped, biting your lip. His fingers moved to your legs, creeping up your thigh. Coryo pulled away to look into your beautiful eyes. “Gonna make you feel good, okay?” He whispered to you, his eyes so honest and genuine.

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice. Coriolanus went back to kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point which caused you to let out a shaky breath. You felt the heat pooling in your pelvis (pls I hated using that word). Coriolanus moved his fingers to your underwear underneath your dress, causing you to instinctively close your legs. “Shh, it’s okay.” He whispered into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “Relax for me.” You took a deep breath, relaxing as you opened your legs back up again. “Good girl,” He murmured. This caused you to verbally whimper as Coriolanus’s fingers made their way under the waistband of your underwear. The coolness of his fingers pressing your warm skin.

Coriolanus moved his head to look you in the eye as his fingers gently touched your slit, moving the wetness around. “You’re so wet,” He murmured. You bit your lip, his touch foreign to you as you tried not to back away from it. You’ve only ever touched yourself once or twice down there and you didn’t know what you were doing. Coriolanus’s fingers gently went onto your clit, circling it slowly with his fingers. You tried to stop yourself from making a noise, embarrassed. But you couldn’t help the small moan you let out as Coriolanus rubbed your clit. “Don’t hide your noises from me, my dear. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

He moved his fingers from your clit, bringing his middle finger down to your hole. You whimpered as he inserted his finger into you slowly. Coriolanus began to thrust his finger in and out of you slowly, making you moan. “Coryo,” You moaned out, your hand gripping the edge of the bed.

“I know, baby,” He murmured, kissing you on the lips as he continued fingering your pussy.

Coriolanus inserted another finger, curling them upwards. You gasped, bringing your hand to your mouth as you moaned out, “Oh my god.”

Coriolanus couldn’t help the smile on his face as you moaned, the sounds of your voice being like heaven to his ears. “You like it, hm?” He asked, kissing your cheek. “You like that I’m fingering your pussy? You’re so tight. Can’t wait for my cock to be inside of you.” His words were so dirty and yet they turned you on so much. You couldn’t help but whine at the thought, bucking your hips against his fingers. “Can tell that you want my cock. Bet you’ve never even seen one before, fuck.” He continued to move his fingers inside of you.

“I-” You moaned out, feeling a tightness in your abdomen. You leaned into Coryo as he was right next to you, leaning your head on his shoulder. The room was filled with the sounds of you moaning and the sounds of your pussy as Coryo finger fucked you. There was a squelching sound, causing Coriolanus to groan in your ear.

“You’re about to cum, baby,” Coryo murmured, moving his fingers faster inside of you. “Let it all out, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You whined as you came undone, clenching your thighs together as your body began to shake. Your pussy gushed around his fingers, soaking your panties, the mattress underneath you, and the floor. “Oh fuck,” You moaned out. Coriolanus fingered you through your orgasm, not stopping until you relaxed. He pulled his fingers out of you, smiling as he saw the mess you made on his bed and his bedroom floor.

Coriolanus used his other hand to lift your head, making you look at him. “You did so good, baby.” He murmured, kissing your lips. “How did that feel?”

You blushed as you looked at your best friend. It all felt so intimate and well, it was. “G-good.” You stuttered. “I-is it normal for that to happen?” You asked shyly.

Coriolanus chuckled, shaking his head no. “Not everyone can do it,” He said, kissing your lips. “Guess that makes you special, my dear.” Coriolanus grabbed the hem of your dress, lifting it off of your body. “We are not done yet though.”

“You’re going to fuck me?” You asked though you knew the answer. He did say that he couldn’t wait for his cock to be inside of you.

Coriolanus nodded his head as he threw your dress to the side of the room, standing up to take off his clothes. His eyes racked over your body, taking in your beautiful figure. “You’re so beautiful,” Coriolanus said as he threw his shirt to the floor. He began unbuttoning his pants.

You blushed as you looked up at Coriolanus, biting your lip. “Thank you,” You said quietly. You couldn’t ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering as Coriolanus complimented you. You decided to take it upon yourself to take off your panties. They were soaked anyway so you threw them to the side.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Coriolanus smiled as he removed his pants, kicking them off. You could see the obvious bulge in his underwear, the outline of it becoming a bit intimidating. You may have never seen a penis before but you knew that the average was about 4 or 5 inches. But by bulge alone, you could tell Coryo was more than that. “Unhook your bra for me?” He asked though it definitely sounded like a command. You obliged, taking your bra off. “And now lay down for me, princess.”

You nodded your head, moving so that your head was on Coryo’s pillow. The pillow smelt like him. Like roses and poverty.

Coriolanus took his underwear off, revealing his member to you. It was quite large. You whimpered as you looked at his size. “W-will it fit?” You asked innocently, looking at Coriolanus with doe eyes.

Coriolanus chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes, princess. It may hurt though,” He said, crawling on top of you. The heat from his body radiated onto yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his forehead resting against yours. He gave you a small kiss. “I’ll do what I can though to make it not hurt too much.” He murmured.

“Okay.” You murmured back, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Is this okay?” You asked, looking up at him.

Coriolanus nodded his head. “Of course, baby,” he replied. He reached a hand between the two of you, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Take a deep breath for me and relax.” You did exactly that. And Coriolanus began to ease his cock inside of you, very slowly. You were still so very wet and it took everything in Coryo’s power to not just shove himself inside of you.

You whined at the sensation, feeling the stretch of Coryo’s big cock as it eased inside of you. He was so big and you were so so tight. It hurt quite a bit, making your eyes well up with tears. Coriolanus began to kiss you, trying to distract you from the pain. His lips were so soft and tender, unlike the feeling of his cock which was so hard and so big. When he was inside of you, he stayed still for a few minutes, pulling away from your lips. “You okay?” He asked, his blue eyes filled with concern as he looked at you.

You looked back up at him, biting your lip. “It hurts.” You whimpered.

Coriolanus nodded his head in sympathy. “I know, baby, I know.” He said. “It’ll hurt until you get used to it.” He leaned back in, capturing your lips once more.

You guys lay there for a few minutes, kissing. And slowly, Coriolanus began to move his hips. He eased his cock back out before bringing it back in, causing you to whine from the pain as a few tears slipped out. And eventually, the tears of pain turned into tears of pleasure as the pain began to ease. You gasped, pulling away from the kiss to look up at Coryo. He gave you a small smile as he continued to thrust into you.

“You’re so warm and tight, baby.” He murmured, kissing your forehead as he moved his hips slowly. He couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of your wet pussy around his cock.

You gasped and moaned, feeling his cock filling you up. You finally understand what you’ve been missing out on. Coryo made you feel so full and it began to feel so so good. “Y-you can go faster,” You said.

Coriolanus’s smile turned into a smirk as he heard your words. He positioned himself so he was leaning on his forearms rather than on his hands, bringing his head towards your neck. His hips began to move a bit faster and harder, making you let out a high-pitched moan as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. “Fuck, baby.” Coriolanus moaned against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “You’re taking me so well.”

Coriolanus was in heaven. It was he who gets to take your virginity, only he can make you feel so warm and protected and only he gets to make you feel good. Coriolanus was the only one who got to hear your beautiful moans, your lovely voice. Your pussy was just so tight around his cock and you were so wet. He hadn’t had sex in a while and he hadn’t been expecting to have sex with you yet but god he was happy that he was.

“Coryo,” You moaned out, closing your eyes. You moaning his name only made Coriolanus move more frantically.

“Feel so good around me, darling,” He moaned in your ear, unable to help the noises he was making. “Gonna make you cum on my cock like a good girl.”

You whined at his words, meeting his thrusts with your own grinds against him. “Feels so good inside me, Coryo, so big,” You moaned out, putting your face to his shoulder. You pressed a kiss along his collarbone.

“Fuck, baby,” He lifted himself slightly, moving his head to look at his cock plunging in and out of you. He looked back at your face, groping one of your breasts, massaging the nipple with his finger.

You arched your back, moaning Coriolanus’s name. You felt that tightening that you felt earlier in your abdomen. “I-I’m close, Coryo,” You moaned out.

“Me too, baby, me too,” He said, leaning his head to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other one. He continued to rut inside of you.

And the sensations were too much, making you let out a very loud moan as your legs began to quiver, your orgasm hitting you harshly and quickly. Coriolanus slowed down his hips, helping you ride out your orgasm. And as you calmed down, he pulled out of you, jerking his cock off a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a loud groan.

And when you both came down from your highs, Coriolanus laid down next to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “How was it, baby?”

You smiled, looking at Coriolanus with a lazy smile. “I-it was lovely, Coryo. Thank you,” You said so kindly.

Coriolanus’s heart melted. He kissed your lips before replying. “It’s what the best of best friends do,” He murmured against your lips.

[solisaureus]

In the wake of hbomberguy and toddintheshadows's takedown of James Somerton, I hope what people learn from this is that you are vulnerable to being scammed and lied to on the internet all the time. Even if you think you aren't. ESPECIALLY if you think you aren't. There is significant financial incentive for people on the internet to lie to you and influence you to think a certain way. It is happening to you every day, on youtube, on tiktok, on reddit, on tumblr. James Somerton is not the only culprit and there are tons of other scammers with reliable reputations that just haven't been caught.

What can you, as an audience member, do to shield your mind from misinformation and propaganda? I'm not going to expect everyone to fact-check everything that they hear or read on the internet, as that is simply infeasible with the sheer volume of information circulating online. But here are a few ways you can sniff out bullshit:

Watch for sources. If you watched the hbomberguy vid, this is probably already at the forefront of your thoughts. If a quote, image, or footage is unattributed, if citations are absent (this is literally the norm for informative posts on social media like tumblr and reddit, I very rarely see sources cited), or if sources cited look dubious and biased, take the information presented to you with a grain of salt.

Pay special attention to shocking claims. If someone on the internet tells you something outrageous, it is likely meant to outrage you. Public outrage is power -- before you get up in arms, verify the information that caused your reaction.

Fact-check when it matters. Some things are more important to verify than others. World news, politics, science, and medicine are rife with misinformation and directly affect people's safety. Before you spread a post you saw about, for example, COVID vaccines, look into how backed up it is.

Keep in mind that some things are disputed or unknown. It's natural to want answers, to want an authority to tell you how to feel about something. But sometimes the truth is unclear, and there are multiple contradictory opinions out there. It is okay to wait for more information to come out before you make up your mind on an issue.

Misinformation that you agree with is just as dangerous as misinformation that offends you. Todd in the shadows touched on this, but people are more likely to look into the validity of a claim if it offends them, and are more likely to accept it without question if it backs up their pre-held beliefs. But if your beliefs are being influenced by bullshit, you need to know about it, even if that causes you to change your stance on something. Especially then. Again, it's infeasible to fact check everything you hear, but keep this bias in mind when considering the above points.

There is way more to this topic and more informed people than me have weighed in on it, but I've been thinking about it since the videos came out and wanted to share my thoughts. These are things that I keep in mind for myself when evaluating info on the internet. There are tons of books out there on how to spot misinformation and the huge detrimental impact that misinformation has on society and I plan to read them next year. Educating yourself is important!

[kvnis]

Obsessed with ur work ohmygod

May i request :)

How about your bf scara saves u from bullies and when u two get home he fucks the hell out of u to make u feel better about the bullies 🤭🤭

౨ৎ ﹒i love you , don’t believe me ?

── ୨୧：sub!reader x dom!scaramouche

୨୧﹑ synopsis :; you’re so fixated on the mindset of scaramouche not loving you, all because of some insignificant bullies? fine then, let him prove that he loves you.

୨୧﹑ genre :; smut, nsfw

୨୧﹑ cw :; fem!reader, established relationship, creampie, marking/biting, fingering, hair pulling, not proofread.

﹒notes ! ⸜⸜ hihi , i’ve not had a lot of motivation recently, but i managed to finish this after days and hours of procrastination!

you were currently walking back to your house, hand in hand with scaramouche. there were slight tears in your eyes that slowly cascaded down your cheeks in minimal amounts. you looked at the back of his head, admiring the way his hair swayed in the wind.

he squeezes your hand, pulling you more to his side and you almost stumble over your own two feet. you huff, keeping up with his pace.

your mind keeps glancing back to the situation just a couple hours before. you had practically been cornered up against a wall, having no way to escape whilst you practically got berated for no reason. you only managed to get away once scaramouche intervened, yet he couldn’t have prevent their thoughts from infecting your mind.

were you really not up to scaramouche’s tastes? did he even like you? you couldn’t help but frown, his cold nature made everything seem unreadable to you, so you couldn’t decipher the truth from the lies.

you didn’t even realise you were physically frowning until you felt a pinch on your cheek.

“what’s that face for?” scaramouche asks you, clearly referring to your gloomy expression.

you shake your head in dismissal, shrugging him off and saying that everything was fine. he just leaves the topic with an unenthusiastic ‘tch’.

you both eventually arrive at your home, and you unlock the door shakily before walking in. a sigh escapes your slightly parted lips, and you make a move to return to your room.

scaramouche knew how this went; you’d go up to your room, ignore anything and everything and just sleep your troubles away. so, before you even left his range, his arm darted out to grab you by the waist, guiding you down to the couch.

“talk.” he looks at you bluntly, clearly knowing that something was up. he was too observant, and that was probably the only thing you detested about him.

you fidgeted with your sleeves, before deciding to just come clean. “some of the… things they said… i’m starting to question whether they were true or not.”

scaramouche tilts his head at you, observing every little motion you made. he wasn’t missing any details. “what type of things were they saying?”

“they were saying things like… like how you wouldn’t like someone like me…” your face begins to drop to the ground, before scaramouche almost lovingly grabs your jaw, shifting closer to you and easing you down onto the couch with his body.

he shakes his head, his free hand going to your waist and squeezing roughly. he looks at you with disbelief. “and you were stupid enough to believe them?”

you face contorts into a frown, slightly embarrassed. you were so easily manipulated by your peers, and it made scaramouche tease you relentlessly. however, this time, he seemed quite comforting about it.

he chuckles under his breath at your reaction, kissing your forehead and cheek, before trailing down to press his lips against yours.

it was quick and hard to realise it had even happened. if you blinked, you would’ve probably missed it.

“you’re so naive… so gullible,” his hands move to the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping into the band of your underwear while he’s at it. “do you really need me to show you how much i love you?”

you stiffen slightly as he tugs your bottoms down with one swift go, and you’re shocked at the urgency of his advances. you writhed slightly, feeling him already run his fingers over your clothed folds. you were getting wetter by the minute, your slick almost soaking through the fabric entirely. it immediately makes your face flare up with even more embarrassment.

he begins to kiss down your neck, occasionally licking, just to gauge your reaction. every time he does, you flinch belatedly, almost like your brain was taking twice the time to process all the stimulation.

his fingers eagerly pull your panties off and to the side, only to impatiently shove two fingers inside your dripping hole. you almost instantaneously clench around him, biting your lip as a soft moan escapes you.

“i don’t love you… hm?” his breath brushes the shell of your ear, lips barely grazing the nerves. you felt as if you were on fire as he began to make a scissoring motion with his fingers, stretching out your hole for him. “then, what’s this i’m doing…?”

your breathing staggers, feeling the cold drag of his digits inside of you. you whimper as a response, too timid to say anything in reply.

as his fingers work inside of you, scaramouche begins to palm his growing erection. he was growing hard, simply by hearing your soft moans, whimpers and the amount of slick now coating his fingers. he pulls them out, watching a string connecting the tips of his fingers to your hole stretch out before breaking.

your hips jerk up as his clothed cock grinds up against your sopping pussy, desperately chasing the hot friction. you closely watch him with half lidded eyes as he slips off his pants, revealing his length for you. you were now hyperaware of everything around you, feeling the way he breathed against your neck, the way his hands burned their imprint into your thighs as he spread them. it sent your mind into overdrive, overcoming your senses and making you want more of him.

he rests his hands on your hips, slowly pushing his entire length into you. his lips press against yours, silencing your cries as he bottoms out. the feeling of your cunt immediately clenching down on him so needily almost makes him cum on the spot.

his hips languidly pulls his length out of you, until only the tip is splitting you open, before pressing back inside. he admires the sounds you make, the soft, panting breath escaping against his lips. the subtle way your thighs twitch around his waist makes him chuckle out breathily, the warmth fanning against your face.

his pace eventually speeds up, turning from slow grinds into deliberate slams, evidently making you moan out, each and every single time. he always knew the ways in how to turn you limp below him, the ways to make you crumble weakly with each of his thrusts.

a hand rests on the side of your neck, tilting your head with his thumb to make you look at him in the eyes. you eyes are slightly glassy, and when you blink a fresh tear rolls down your temple. his thumb immediately brushes it away, giving you a soothing kiss on the cheek.

“don’t cry, why are you crying?” he lets out an amusing exhale, watching you open your mouth to speak, but only sounds of pleasure coming out. “i love you, you know? dunno how you’re so stupid to think otherwise...”

his words of affection makes heat swell in your gut, and he takes note on the way your hole clenches and unclenches around him. his eyes teasingly narrow at you, glancing down to observe the state of your folds.

you look down alongside him, but you don’t stare for long as your flustered from how wet you are, the lewd sounds reaching your ears. however, you couldn’t deny the way it turned you on. it was awfully shameful, yet you didn’t have to look twice at scaramouche for him to know exactly what was going through your mind. he knew you too well for that.

his thrusts grow harder, faster, deeper, until your body is twitching and begging for release. he was hitting just the right spots inside of you, making your eyes roll and your fists tighten into his hair. you writhe, feeling an approaching orgasm. it’s almost laughable, how he was able to reduce you to such a sight with minimal effort.

he drags his lips along your skin, letting himself take indulgence in the unmarked skin of your shoulder. he eyes you, taking a fold of skin into his mouth and sucking up multiple marks, until your whole shoulder was his own personal canvas, blooming in beautiful marks of red and purple.

you gasp, head getting thrown back at the added sensations. your eyes flutter closed, a loud whine escaping your mouth as you approach your peak. your hands bunch up and tug at his hair, grasping for anything to keep you composed.

your mind goes numb, riddled with pleasure as you came, gushing all around his cock and coating it in another layer of your slick. a proud smirk reaches scaramouches face as he watches your cunt suck him in impossibly deeper while you orgasmed. he shallowly fucked you through it, giving you time to compose yourself before pulling you closer, pressing his hips flush to yours.

he continued his movements against you, letting his lips brush against yours ever so often. a moan exits your slightly parted lips as you gasp for air, sucking your teeth as he brings back the roughness in his thrusts, not caring that you just came. he was determined to make you cum as many times as possible in one night.

“pfft, ‘i don’t love you’, huh?” he scoffs, looking into your watery eyes with his own lust-stricken ones. “how could you think that shit when i make you cum like this?”

you look at him with a pout, before replying to him with a simple hum. all doubts in your mind have been thoroughly removed, and the only thing in your mind was how good he was making you feel right now.

you whip your head to the right, letting his lips gain comfort in the crook of your neck. his tongue swirls its imprint into your flesh, occasionally sucking just to throw you off guard. every time he does you writhe, making his grip on your thighs tighten.

he pushes one of your thighs up to your chest, bending it and manipulating it to throw it over his shoulder, enabling him to thrust his cock deeper into your sensitivity. your noises gradually increase in pitch, and it’s not long before your cumming around his length again. your body flushed numbly, twitching as the crest of your pleasure washes over you. your head lolls limply, and you try to catch your breath as he groans in your ear. the noise did not help with your arousal right now.

you were exhausted, and you firmly believe you can’t go another round. your legs were trembling in his grip as you looked at him with pleading, heavy lids.

“don’t worry, ‘m almost done…” scaramouche mutters into your ear, breathing heavily as he twitches inside of you, feeling his impending orgasm. his bangs were sticking to his forehead, and he uses your neck to latch onto in order to cover up—what he viewed to be embarrassing—his noises.

he moans into your flesh, before the rhythm of his hips falters and he releases inside of you, filling your walls with his sticky cum. you feel the warmth spill inside of you, your wettened lashes glancing over to his face, which he lifted from your neck with an exhale. you could see the flush on his cheeks and the slight sweat on his skin.

his eyes lock onto yours, and he gives you a smirk. he doesn’t pull out; instead, he lifts you by the waist and sits back on the couch, making you straddle him.

he firmly grips your cheeks, not letting you slack out on your shared eye contact. he searches your eyes, sifting through every shred of emotion shown through your pupils. he pulls you down so your lips just barely brushed, before speaking.

“still think i don’t love you?” he looks you up and down, taking in your spend form. he felt a mix of his cum and yours leaking out of your hole, tightening his grip on your cheeks at the feeling. you wince and end up shaking your head.

“n-no…” you meekly admit, thighs trembling around his lap. “it’s just—”

“forget about them.” he snaps quickly, using his free hand to guide your hips up his length, before slamming your body down. you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head face downward, hair falling to cover your face. he brushes your hair out of your face, roughly squeezing your cheeks. “‘cause i’m not done yet. gonna fuck that brain of yours silly…”

©2024 kvnis do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my works.

[harmonysanreads]

Idée Fixe

yandere!lyney x reader

cw(s) : yandere, lyney, written before fontaine release

wc : 2.6k+

two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.

“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”

The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.

You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.

The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”

If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.

“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”

“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.

“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”

The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”

Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.

It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.

Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.

For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.

Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.

Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.

Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.

“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”

Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.

Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”

You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.

“... but, I might nibble.”

You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.

“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”

At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.

“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”

The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.

Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.

“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”

The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.

But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.

Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.

You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.

Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”

The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?

“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.

He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”

The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.

“... Do I have to?”

You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.

“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.

“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”

Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—

You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.

The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.

“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”

You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.

“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.

“In matters that count, it always comes first.”

The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.

Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”

Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.

“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”

The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.

You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.

I could've sworn that I felt...!

The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.

Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.

Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.

may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3