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#being his servant is the most fulfilling thing in the world

lizzieheartsfanclub · 10 months

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The most effective thing about Ever After High is that every student has their own personal struggle that adds another element to just how life-ruining the destiny system is.

Apple is so terrified of what will happen to her if she doesn’t follow her destiny, that she is willing to compromise everyone else’s happiness to make sure it happens. This disregard for other people is only encouraged by the influential adults in her life.

Ashlynn has to be a servant to an abusive family and live knowing that the ultimate end to her supposedly happy ending is dying to set the stage for her daughters traumatic backstory, starting the whole cycle over again with no chance for any of them to escape.

Blondie feels so pressured to fit in to a deeply classist/monarchist society and ashamed of her parentage that she constantly presents a fake version of herself to everyone she knows, even her best friends.

Briar has to spend her whole life waiting for the moment her destiny comes and she falls asleep for a century. She knows that when she’s woken up, she will be forced to marry a boy dozens of years younger than her who she’s never met and live knowing that everyone she ever loved is dead and gone, the very things that she watched cause her mother’s emotional breakdown.

Cedar’s father was so afraid of watching her repeat his mistakes that he overcorrected, making it impossible for her to ever learn lessons for herself. She is also forced to share incredibly personal details with anyone who asks her questions, and can’t be trusted by her friends with any of their secrets, and it’s all because of her father’s past trauma.

Cerise has to hide who she truly is and never gets to see her family together and happy despite the fact that her parents have potentially the most healthy and mutually beneficial marriage in the whole franchise.

Daring was groomed from birth for a destiny that ends up not actually being his at all, leaving him aimless, feeling as though he has no purpose and has wasted his entire life.

Darling is forbidden by patriarchy and destiny to become a knight, the only thing she really wants, and at which she would be better than both of her brothers. She has to hide who she is and what she loves from everyone she knows

Dexter lived his whole life never knowing what his destiny would be but also knowing that whatever it was he’d have to commit to it forever the moment he discovered it at Legacy Day.

Duchess has spent her whole life knowing that the story she’s commited to living out ends in tragedy for her, and then had to watch the very people she’s been jealous of for years because of their seemingly happy endings give up those endings, while Duchess, loyal and rule following Duchess, is still stuck with her tragedy.

Faybelle tries so hard to commit to what she sees at her destiny that she’s never had a real friend in her life. Even still, no one recognizes her for all that effort and all she’s given up to be a suitable villain. Everyone is more afraid of Raven, who doesn’t even want to be evil.

Hunter has to constantly go against his moral compass to fulfill his destined role as a Huntsman and to try and make his father proud of him.

Kitty has been taught over and over again to value her Mother’s approval over all else, even at the expense of her friends. Her destiny is to create mischief, but how much more mischief can a dissolving world take before it’s too much?

Lizzie finds it almost impossible to express love or care for anyone else due to her mothers excessive conditioning that’s nearly akin to brainwashing. The saddest thing might be that her mother is actually, in her own way, trying her best to prepare Lizzie for a world that will only ever see her one way—as a villain. Now she lives in Ever After, princess to a kingdom that might not even exist for much longer, having given up everything for a destiny that may soon be impossible.

Maddie is a refugee forced from her home into a world she barely understands at a tender age. But she cannot express any angst or negative feelings about this circumstance, because to do so would go against her character. She lives in a world obsessed with destiny and stories while not even knowing if she’ll ever be able to return home and live out her story.

Raven is judged by almost everyone around her for her mothers crimes, many of which were required of her by destiny in the first place. She is nearly forced to commit to becoming a tyrannical megalomaniac (and almost falls into it herself, several times) who would be sentenced to lifelong punishment and torture for committing acts that weren’t even her idea in the first place, and the one punishing her would have been the very girl who begged so often for her to stop being so difficult and just follow her destiny.

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cauliflowercounty · 2 months

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Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape. He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days? No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything. Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had. Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter.

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you. Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now. Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor.

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape. He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment.

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft. Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad.

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him.

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset. Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him. “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?”

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want.

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory. I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab.

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings.

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings.

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?”

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love. It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses.

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses. Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering. As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall.

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky. Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar. The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood. “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind. Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity. The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process. “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more. The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture. Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker.

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals.

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.”

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd. “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood.

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes. “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine. “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his. You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment.

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.”

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff. A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!”

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis. We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each. The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes. You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go. The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body. He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more. As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis.

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants. This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis. Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off.

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in.

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride. Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen. As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep.

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag.

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning. What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back. Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth. “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar. “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now. I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!”

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you. The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips. “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror. Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet. Now.”

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt.

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss. “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk.. “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought. “I do not know, my love.”

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return. “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him. Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads. Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out.

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins. “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?” Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information. We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes. They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not.

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge. The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected. “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.”

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter.

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room. You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners. You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive.

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies.

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky. The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene.

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small.

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning. The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing. Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill. The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal.

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still. However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen. Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife.

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight. The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks.

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though.

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind.

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage.

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany.

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief “It saved your life!”

“I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed. This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall. Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. Memories from the battle flash in his mind. He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear, I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of. Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek.

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist. Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything.

Thanks for reading! I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

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#feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha x reader #dune #x reader

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stormgardenscurse · 7 months

Text

made for you - puppet au

Summary: In a steampunk-esque setting, your guardian-slash-mentor left you with one thing after their passing—a self-autonomous puppet that was designed to blend in with humans, who would protect and accompany you in your mentor’s absence.

Characters: Floyd, Ace, Cater, Lilia

Warnings: mentions of blood in Lilia's!

Floyd

Outsiders might complain about Floyd’s flippant change in moods, saying that you seemed to be the only person he doesn’t get annoyed with.

In two ways this judgment was flawed: they didn’t know he was a puppet (and so thought he was merely a scary traveling partner of yours), and he does get mad at you sometimes. Namely when you do things for others that he thinks are unnecessary, because why do you have to be the nice one and try to maintain relations with people you weren’t even close with?

Floyd never got why you stress yourself out with things like that—and if you told him to help you with such tasks? Expect him to either turn to a game of cat and mouse (behind your back, he’s the cat and some other person is the mouse) or fulfill it with a dangerous gleam in his eyes when a stranger sees him, saying ‘don’t approach me, I’m really not in the mood’.

He rarely directs his frustration at you, though. Call it part of his design or whatever, but for the most part he’s more lax around you, slinging his arm over your shoulder or asking if you wanted to do (insert unhinged scheme) with a casual tone.

You worry about the people that he does get into fights with. Floyd doesn’t pay much attention to his inhuman strength and things can get awkward when people question it—leaving you to stand there, contemplating if you should reveal the truth.

But… while Floyd doesn’t really care for the distinction between being human and not (as long as you treat him as equals), he finds it fun when people think he’s just an unpredictable human. The looks on their faces and struggle when he tests their limits are always a sight to behold.

Humans really are quite amusing—but of course, you’re his favorite one.

Ace

Ace has an inner conflict, one could say.

As charismatic as he can be (and by god was he a convincing actor), Ace would always, at the back of his mind, be conscious of the fact that he wasn’t human.

Nevermind the fact he’s probably more humane than some people out there, but he always has the feeling that it wasn’t enough. There’s a type of jealousy that crops up whenever he sees you interacting with people—he’s not sure if he’s jealous of the way you are, with your quirks and emotions that he idealizes despite how he claims otherwise, or if he’s jealous of the others around you.

He’d never fall sick or actually feel physical pain. He could be repaired so long as his core was salvageable, and so Ace could never be your friend in the way he might want to be. He wonders, sometimes, that in an alternate world—if he was human, would you look towards him the same way you do now? Would you still pick him within an ocean of so many, if he wasn’t a puppet crafted by your mentor?

Instead of expressing this, Ace of course directs these feelings into a personality that’s a little bratty. He’d challenge your requests at times, asking if it was an ‘order’ and only complying if you pushed back.

You’ll hear a lilt in his voice when he calls you ‘Master’ mockingly. For the most part Ace’s mean streak isn’t that bad though—he does show concern for you and is essentially a best friend that keeps you grounded. Sometimes you wonder if he actually liked being bossed around, thinking of it as a way to acknowledge the odd relationship you had.

You don’t see him as a servant or object, but perhaps he finds some comfort in the idea that he was made for you. That way, your attachments to one-another was completely normal—you’d always pick him, right?

Cater

Cater is a puppet that lets you know his world revolves around you, if only to see the adorable expressions you make in response.

He doesn’t care for his own maintenance that much, nor about hurting himself in your defense or while doing tasks. Cater’s good at masking such things too, with long-sleeved or layered clothing to hide his mechanical injuries away. He says it’s unsightly and he’ll just fix it himself later, but you always recognise when he’s lying about how it’s ‘not that bad’.

It makes an odd feeling ache in his chest whenever you do that, making him sit down in the privacy of your inn room so you could patch him up. There’s an unreadable look in his gaze at times like those, asking you if you saw him as someone that could actually get hurt. You said yes. Cater makes sure to remember that.

He’s flirty most of the time, acting good-natured with others but obviously trying to charm you in particular. People tend to think you’re a couple because of that, and is it so bad if Cater kind of likes the sound of it?

He enjoys how genuine of a person you are—sure, everyone has their own thoughts and darker side that they keep to themselves, but he’s never detected falsehoods in your emotions towards him. Maybe it helps that you know he’s a puppet—why would you feel the need to guard yourself from him the same way as others?

He likes this exclusivity he has to the different sides of you, especially since he’s a key link to your past. It’s also easier to focus his time and energy on someone else than the gloom that sometimes spreads in his system, which was surely just another mechanical flaw.

"I'm just supposed to make sure you're happy, Master~ So don’t worry about it!"

Lilia

No one would suspect that your cute companion would have a rather… uncompromising side, with it came to getting rid of nuisances that threatened your safety.

In his defense, he was kind of built to be a deadly weapon—the world is a dangerous place after all, and Lilia doesn’t mind being the one that protects you from those that may do you harm. Your mentor dabbled in areas that garnered them enemies, thus the association and knowledge you possessed was a dangerous light to greedy moths.

You never actually witness how he is in combat, though. Lilia always returns from his missions quietly, wiping the scratches and blood off of his synthetic skin. He greets you with a smile if you’re still awake at that point in the night, and you’re none-the-wiser about the expressions he can make when he gets serious on the field.

It’s night and day, the difference between how he is there versus how he is when mingling with people or with you. Lilia likes how you rely on him during your travels. He has a backlog of historical knowledge that he collected shortly after he was crafted, but nothing compares to actually being in different nations and seeing things with your own two eyes.

He enjoys calling your name in a familiar tone and hearing you do the same. Lilia hopes to be a presence that reminds you of home, so it’s only natural that he cherishes the lighthearted and heart-to-heart conversations you have.

Leave the bodyguard work to him; there’s a reason your mentor made a puppet for this purpose, after all. And honestly, Lilia’s quite happy with the way his life was right now. It was much richer than the endless clockwork of a workshop, and pretty things that did nothing compared to your warm words and sparkle in your eyes that was so undeniably human.

#(Yes #this was vaguely inspired by the latest event cards. Hope you enjoy!)#twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #floyd leech x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #cater diamond x reader #twst x reader #twst reader insert #twst x you #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x y/n #storm writings

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ohnoitstbskyen · 21 days

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So I know you headcanon Nami as a lesbian and Luffy as aroaco (both which is heavily agree with!) What are your romance/sexuality headcanons for the other Strawhats?

Hm. I think Zoro is ace, but not aro, but also the only thing he's really in love with is his dream of fulfilling his promise to Kuina, becoming the greatest swordsman in the world. Once he accomplishes that... well, I am not 100% sure he'll survive accomplishing it, actually, I think the story is signaling pretty hard that his moment of transcendence is going to be connected with the moment of his death (the "King of Hell" thing, all the Buddhism imagery, his tendency to find revelations about swordsmanship on the brink of death) but if he does survive it, that's when maybe romance can become a consideration for him. Maybe. That's when he can figure out who he's even into.

Sanji is extremely romantic - hyperromantic, even - but honestly in a way that's... almost totally disconnected from actual romance? He worships women as divine goddesses and sources of extreme aesthetic and emotional joy for him, but he seems to struggle enormously to actually relate to them a lot of the time. He seems more invested in Being A Gentleman Who Loves Women than he does in... actually being in any sort of a realistic relationship with a woman.

Pudding is the closest he comes to forming an actual romantic relationship, and even then, so much of it is ultimately motivated by his romantic fantasy of Being The Prince, of being the noble, self-sacrificing hero who Saves The Girl, of Being A Good Man. Committing to her is, for him, an act of self-sacrifice, for the sake of his crew, for the sake of his family (Zeff and the Baratie, not the Vinsmokes), and for the sake of her more than it is an earnest desire to build a future with a true partner. He's resigning himself to a life of being her perfect domestic husband servant, in worship and adoration of her, but never in partnership.

In an extremely weird way, the vibe I get from Sanji is he's like a... hyperromantic... aromantic? He's EXTREMELY invested in romantic fantasies, but not so much in the actual day-to-day mundanities of romance, he's in love with the idea of being in love, with the experience of being in love, with the thrill and act and performance of being in love, more than he is in love with any actual person?

Partly this comes down to One Piece just not being a romance story - romance is generally sidelined and elided in most situations, and Sanji's romantic obsessions are played for comedy 99% of the time, they are not taken seriously, so he never has an opportunity to really go through the process of romance as a grounded, flesh-and-blood process, but I can only discuss him as he is presented.

Robin, I think, might be the most straightforward of the crew. I am on board with the Frobin agenda, I think she's probably straight and... if not cis, then about as cis as you can be with a power like the Hana Hana no Mi. And I think she genuinely would be very attracted to a loud, dependable eccentric like Franky, as the other half to her quiet dependable eccentric personality. Especially since he is loudly and obviously an extremely decent man with a heart of gold, and Robin carries so much trauma of being a "devil child," I think she probably needs that kind of uncomplicated light of goodness in her life.

Usopp, again, is probably a fairly straightforward sort. The live action gives him a thing for Kaya, but I could see him being bi or pan, but much like Zoro I don't think he's going to quite have the capacity for Romance™ until he fulfils his dream of becoming a great warrior of the sea (he already has, of course, but he needs to internalize it and realize it within himself). I ONE HUNDRED percent believe he might end up taking a Giant for a spouse.

Franky is... okay this makes no sense whatsoever but I feel that he's gay? But also would fall for Robin? ... but in a gay way???

Look I don't know how that works either, it's a vibe it's a brain feeling it's a wibbly wobbly romance gender sort of situation. Franky is clearly in love with the male body, with masculinity, with maleness, and he especially loves building himself into those images of hypermasculinity, but he does in a way that feels hella queer to me. I don't really think you can be a self-made cyborg building his own body without being some flavor of queer-coded, like, I just don't think that that can be a cishet thing anymore.

He would fall for Robin is my point, in part because they share a knack for creating themselves, in part because Robin would appreciate and need him, in part because she would adore his cybernetic self-creation and find it charming and beautiful, and I think he needs someone who will love his creations (including, y'know, his body) as much as he does.

It's like... y'know how Neo and Trinity in the Matrix are clearly, OBVIOUSLY a t4t couple even though they're both technically cis in the text of the story? It's like that with Frobin for me. Yeah, sure, they're both cis and straight, but also they are trans and gay.

Jinbei I have no idea, actually, he could be into absolutely anything. Kind of a gay bear vibe? That's the best I got. Chopper is a child and I don't think he really has any idea yet either, and Brook... look, I don't think you can be THAT level of flamboyant rockstar and not be some flavor of queer. The Soul King wears Elton John outfits half the time. I don't know that he has a sexuality anymore necessarily (he could be ace, what with the having no carnal flesh and all), but if he's not at least bi romantically then nothing about him makes sense.

#tb answers #one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #nico robin #tony tony chopper #jinbei #soul king brook #cyborg franky #god usopp #sniper king usopp #usopp

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reverieparacosm · 11 months

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hi! could you please write yandere!sauron x fem reader hcs? maybe sauron had a dream of this woman who fulfills a prophecy he read that would make him more powerful so he sends his minions to bring her to him and when he meets her there is a magical bond between them and he is obsessed with her

Prophecy: Yandere!Sauron x F!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, possessive behaviors, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping, slavery, (Sauron is already a red flag -)

Note: Your wish is my command! I am weak for Yandere Sauron.

Remember kids - please do not enslave people just because you saw them in dreams

Sauron's thirst for power is unending

As the Dark Lord of Mordor, he is always on the lookout for ways to increase his influence and rule over Middle-Earth

One night, he is visited by a vision of a woman who would help him fulfill a prophecy that would grant him even more power. This vision ignites a fiery determination within him, and he sets his minions on the task of finding her and bringing her to him

His servants search far and wide, but the woman is elusive and hard to find. Months pass without success, but finally, one of his minions stumbles upon her during a routine scouting mission

He brings Sauron the news, and the Dark Lord is overjoyed. He immediately orders his minions to keep a close eye on her and bring him regular reports

But Sauron's desire for this mysterious woman grows stronger with each passing day. He wants her for himself, and orders his minions to bring her to him

She is everything he has hoped she would be - powerful and capable of fulfilling the prophecy. The moment they meet, Sauron feels a magical bond between them that he has never experienced before. He is immediately obsessed with her, unable to tear his eyes away from her

With a single glimpse, he is captivated by her beauty. So much so that he takes her face in his hand before she has even noticed his presence. His ice-cold mental glove caresses her cheeks and he absorbs every delicate detail, leaving her with an unsettling sensation

When she turns her head to the side, Sauron becomes more aggressive. He grabbs her chin with one hand and held her neck with the other, forcing her to look into his eye

Despite being an evil, dark lord with a reputation for cruelty, he develops a soft spot for her

He tells his minions not to harm her and threatens those who do with severe punishment. He does not want to lose her or drive her away, for he knows that she is the key to fulfilling his ultimate goal - becoming the most powerful being in Middle-Earth

"I would rather burn the world than see it harm you."

Sauron spends every waking hour with her, pouring his heart and soul into their relationship. He is desperate to learn everything he could about her, her abilities, and her place in the grand scheme of things. He is certain that she is the one he has been seeking for so long, the one who would help him achieve true greatness

As the days pass, the bond between them only grows stronger, and Sauron's obsession with her only deepens. He knows that the prophecy is within his grasp, and he would do whatever it takes to fulfill it with her by his side

The woman is initially reluctant to trust Sauron. But as he charms her with his words and gifts, she begins to fall under his spell

Sauron soon begins to see the woman as his property and becomes increasingly possessive and demanding. He expects her to devote all of her time and energy to him, and becomes violent when she tries to resist

"Your heart beats in harmony with mine, the two inextricably linked in a bond so strong that no other force can break it. You are mine, and I am yours, our destinies intertwined forevermore."

Sauron is constantly monitoring the woman, using magic to invade her thoughts and dreams. He knows her every move and thought, and he uses this knowledge to control her

Sauron revels in her obedience, especially when she sits at his feet as he holds court with his many war generals. It is a constant reminder of his power over her, and he loves having her as his symbol. Even when he is deep in conversation, he still takes a moment to stroke her hair, relishing in her submission. He senses the tension in her body, and it only increases his satisfaction

"There is no one like you, my beautiful darling. The way you bend to my will pleases me greatly. You are a constant reminder of the power I have over you, and it thrills me to no end. Even in the midst of battle, I cannot help but take a moment to stroke your hair, relishing in your submission. Your body trembles with tension, and it only increases my satisfaction. Never forget who you belong to. I am your master, and you will forever be my symbol."

The woman is conflicted about Sauron's behavior, but she is unable to resist the powerful bond between them. She tries to convince herself that she can change him, but as time goes on, she realizes that he is too deeply engrained in his dark ways to change

If she tries to escape, Sauron would likely use his powerful magic to track her down and capture her

He would stop at nothing to keep her under his control. If the woman manages to escape his grasp, Sauron would likely become more obsessed than ever, and he would use all of his resources to find her and bring her back to him. He would stop at nothing to keep her by his side, even if it meant using his most dark and nefarious tactics to do so

"You are my most prized treasure, my greatest possession. No one on this earth or beyond it will ever take you away from me. Our love is eternal, a bond that cannot be broken or tarnished by any force in existence."

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fairysluna · 1 year

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Hello, I just stumbled into your old account and read and LOVED one of your Aegon fanfics (What Should've Been) and I have a teeny tiny request, if you don't mind. It seems the reader had tuberculosis from the symptoms, especially the bloody coughs, and since Aegon was thoroughly exposed to it, I was wondering if you can maybe make a teeny tiny follow-up about how he also contracts the disease and dies and later joins the reader in the afterlife under the same weirwood tree where she's waiting for him in her wedding gown and Aegon goes to her and tucks a purple pansy in her ear and they walk off into the light, together at last.

Please, I'm terribly heartbroken (and depressed but that's just my usual depression) over this beautiful story and I'd love a follow-up, even if it's just bullet points of what happens 🥺🥺

Author's Note: Hi hun!! I love the fact that you love my story enough to come here and ask me to write more, I will always love to make a follow up of my fics... so this is entirely dedicated to you, love!! thank you for enjoying my writing (and srry for breaking your heart). These are bullet points btw and it is quite short, but i hope you like it!!🤍

WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN — Aegon's Grief.

Summary: The aftermath of the biggest loss in Aegon's life: you. An epilogue for this story.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Arryn!Reader

Tags/TW: angst, grief, death, mentions of depression, sickness, sensitive content. If something is missing pls let me know.

Aegon didn’t leave his bed for days. The grief and sorrow in his heart was too much for him to bear. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t bathe, he wouldn’t even stand from his bed… the bed he used to share with you.

It was hard for him to go inside the room, the weeks before your funeral he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the door of it. Needless to say, he didn’t even step inside of it until the funeral was over. The sheets were still there, the shape of your body was still seen on the bed. He did not allow the maids to clean up the room; he could smell the scent of death that was left behind, but once he went closer to the bed he was able to smell your perfume… and that was enough for him to bury his face against the pillows as he sobbed and whined.

Alicent tried to go and persuade him to go back to his duties. He had become a King, but what kind of King he was if he didn't have his Queen by his side? What purpose was left for him when the most important person in the world was now gone? The forces of your love had left him without warming, the warmth of your love no longer covered his body in the shape of an affectionate kiss. He felt useless without you, for you were the only thing that brought meaning into his life.

Aemond would start to cover him up in the Small Council meetings and other duties. Aegon was in no condition to fulfill his activities, because not only his spirit was broken but his health was deteriorating with each passing day. The health of their King was starting to cause rumors around the halls, servants claimed that he went mad out of his own grief.

His chubby shape soon became a skeletal one. His rosy cheeks were now pale and bony, his cheekbones being too noticeable now. Alicent would go at night trying to make him eat something, but Aegon had lost his will to live the day he lost you. And eventually, the Gods were merciful enough… and they made him sick too.

Alicent knew what was coming, she had witnessed the same symptoms in you a few weeks ago before you took your last breath. She cried herself to sleep many nights as the Maester would only inform her that her son was slowly dying, with no signs of improvement at all. And then, the hallucinations started as Aegon was being slowly killed by the fever.

His already weakened body could not handle that sickness that came upon him. The lack of food, of sleep, along with his lack of will to live were enough to get him seriously ill, to the point when he started to speak to the maids thinking they were you.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he would say with a thin voice, barely audible. Most of his wording would be interpreted as mumbling and nonsense, "can't wait to see our beautiful child growing inside of you."

A few days later… Aegon passed away in the same bed that he used to share with you, grasping the same sheets that covered your body during your last days, and in the same bed where he held you close every night. And even though that was the day his body died, his soul had left him the same day you left him.

Alicent cried for days after the news, but she wasn't surprised at all. No one was. The love Aegon had for you was too obvious for everyone.

"Not even death could pull them apart," Aemond would say as he consoled his mother during the funeral, where Sunfyre was the one lighting the fire that ended up consuming his skeletal body.

Aegon thought he was dreaming when he found himself standing in the gardens, wearing a black suit but feeling light, the anguish that had haunted him for the past weeks was no longer there.

And then, he heard your laugh.

A small giggle that made him feel as if his heart was beating again. A sound so soft and gentle, delicate and blissful, that it brought a rose color upon his cheeks, which returned to be as chubby as they were before.

At first, he was afraid of turning around, thinking that it was a delusion, some trick of his mind making him hear things. But then, he heard it again, and the urge to look at your beautiful face once again was stronger than any fear that might succumb him. He needed to see you… and he did.

There you were, as beautiful as you have always been, wearing a tighter and less pompous version of your wedding gown. Your hair was falling down your shoulders in cascades, your eyes gleaming with pure happiness as you laughed at the pages you were reading. Aegon was enchanted, mesmerized by the angelic sound your laughter would produce.

He walked slowly towards you, as if he was scared you would become a pile of dust and fade into the wind, but you never did. Instead, you looked up at him and your eyes shined so bright that Aegon was sure he saw stars in them. You were so gorgeous, far from being the sick woman he saw before you passed. You were your old self, the woman who would make him laugh and make him fall in love all over again every single day.

"You came," you said with a radiant smile.

"You know I've never done well without you, my love," he replied.

You saw him picking up a flower from the greenest grass he's ever seen; a purple pansy soon was on your hair, and Aegon's heart felt alive once he felt your lips against the softness of his flushed cheeks. A gesture that he had terribly missed.

Aegon cupped your face between his hands, and looked down to you with admiration and pure devotion. Your eyes were full of life once again; a sight that Aegon wished to never forget again. Before you could say anything to him, he kissed you, and your lips felt warm and soft as they always were. Your touch made him feel like a teenage boy, the same boy that fell in love with you many years ago.

He realized then that he finally found heaven, that all his wishes and pleas were listened to by the Gods by sending him back to you; back to where he belonged.

Aegon saw your eyes once again, and right there he realized that the Gods were finally merciful, because now he got to spend the rest of his life by your side without having the constant fear of losing you again.

He finally found peace, because you were there with him.

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pamicakery · 4 months

Text

₊✩‧₊˚welcome to Pami's Cakery ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Hi! My name is Pami , I am 25 and I am manifesting my dream life during the year of 2024! 🧁

I love scripting, meditating and drawing!

What I want to manifest this year :

🥞Desired apparance (Df & DB)

🍰Be a Model

🥧 Having my desired friends

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚How will I do that?

Mainly focusing on the 4D because the 4d is the real reality. I will post :

Loa related videos

Pinterest and visions board

And what I've learned.

₊✩ MASTER LIST ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

How to manifest Friends

Persisting is key

Manifesting Sp

How to identify with you inner self + ladder experiment

Focusing on 3d

The 4d is a 3d already comformed

How I manifested my trip to Paris

Put logic aside fulfil your inner self

Stop searching for signs

Taking actions is not necessary

How to accept your desire as true

How to manifest good grades

Spiritual burnout

₊✩‧₊˚౨HOW TO MANIFEST ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Before asking questions, read this and send a ask only if this doesn't answer your doubts.

To manifest you have to stop identify yourself with the 3d. When you are manifesting you start with a state of lack because you desire something. You desire because you don't have it.

You don't have it the 3d will reflect the state of you not having it. You are occupying a state lack.

Your 3d can't reflect a state of being fulfilled if your innerself is occupying a state of lack.

What you need to do is occupying a state of already having your desire.

How to occupy a state?

You occupy a state or a reality by experiencing it with the senses.

When you focus on your 3d (3d of lack) you are ignoring the 4d by experiencing the 3d with your senses. As a result you are occupying a state of lack.

When you focus on your 4d (4d of fulfilment) you are ignoring your 3d by experiencing the 4d with your senses. As a result you are occupying a state of fulfilment.

How to Persist in the new state :

Always go back to that state, occupy that state like a house. Occupy your 4d world. The more your exercice your 4d senses, the more it will be easy to occupy that state.

Don't put logic and don't take actions

Logic doesn't work with imagination. Logic is limitation, in the 4d world you are limitless. You can fly, breath under water. Identify with your true identity, as a limitless person not as a person who is a result of others people assumptions or bad experiences.

Taking action is useless. You can butter your face with the most expensive cream in the world and still having acne because you are occupying a state of having a bad skin. You can diet and work out 8h a day but still be overweight because you are occupying a state of being overweight. Just occupy the state in the 4d because of you want to be slim in the 4d, you are just being it. You don't diet in the 4d, you don't work out in the 4d, you are just being it.

How to ignore the 3d?

Fulfill yourself with the 4d desired state and experience it with your senses. The 3d is a reflection on your inner state.

The inner self will express itself in the 4d :

Your 3d is not your bitch, slave or servant. It's a result of your inner state. When you start to manifest you start with a state of '' wanting it ''. With the inner self wanting it, it means you don't have it. The 3d then will reflect that state of the inner self not having it.

Do the same but with the state of having it.

Living in the end = your 4d's present

Look into your 4d's 3d :

Your 4d is a 3d already conformed to your desired assumption. If you check for validation look here.

You don't need self concept, healing inner child, chakra, stones etc

If you want to feel loved in your 4d, you don't have to heal your inner child to feel loved. You are just being it, by seeing your Sp smiling at you, hearing him telling nice things to you. You are just being it. Your inner self doesn't need all that healing process to be healed. They are just being healed, occupying a state of being healed. So do you.

Glad to help 🩷

#loassumption #loa tumblr #loa #loa blog #law of assumption #manifesation

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giorno-plays-piano · 9 months

Text

House of Chains

Part VI

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, canon-typical violence, chase scenes, death of minor characters.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

P.S. Finally, the long-awaited twist!

_________

At first, Daemon's face betrays nothing as if he hadn't heard you. You think he might consider it a joke as anyone else probably would: you don't look like a lunatic, asking to be burnt by a dragon. Hell, you went as far as travel to Dragonstone, to the lair of your worst enemy, for this, somehow evading soldiers and Rhaenyra's supporters on your way. Daemon surely thinks there is some catch.

"So dramatic," he muses, making an imperative sign with his hand to make Caraxes quiet, the dragon restless behind his back, eager to have you between its teeth. "There are enough dragons in the Red Keep. Why mine?"

You feel yourself trembling, droplets of sweat sliding down your back from fear and pressure. No, no, you can't. You must stay firm, or it'll all go to Hell. Daemon should believe your lies.

"I am pregnant with Aemond's child," you declare, loud, the sound multiplying and echoing deep in the cavern, and Daemon's face finally changes, eyebrows raising. "He forced himself on me. His payment for all I've done for him and his brother, I suppose. And I better die in flames than work for him again."

Luce whimpers softly against you, a bit of blood staining his grey collar.

Before Daemon can ask you questions and ruin your story, you continue, "Why should you care? Because you don't want me alive. You know I'm not truly a Hightower, don't you?"

There's a recognition in his eyes, and Daemon bows his head mockingly as you draw a deep breath, griping the blade harder so it won't escape your sweaty palms.

"I am behind the murder of the White Worm and most of her spies," you smile, baring your teeth at him like an animal. "I killed Ser Harrold Westerling when I found out he supported Rhaenyra's claim, and many others who thought they could fake their promises to King Aegon II. I've been spying, torturing, and killing your wife's friends in the Red Keep for more than 2 years. But Hightower betrayed me, and I'd rather die than give birth to Aemond's child."

The more you talk, the more Daemon's face twists in cold fury, his hand clenching a torch like it was a sword. Does he believe you? It is, perhaps, difficult to trust a word of a woman who looked too young and too feeble to do any of those things, but you have arrived to the Dragonstone undetected and even took Lucerys hostage despite the castle being full of guards, lords, and servants. It isn't a coincidence, and Daemon has always been too suspicious of you, a girl appearing out of nowhere and serving the Queen with too much vigor.

The anger and a thousand of other emotions in his eyes give you some hope.

"Burn me, Daemon Targaryen." You exclaim loudly, trying to make him act, your hand trembling. "Send my charred remains to Aemond as a gift. I'm sure it is a fair price for the sins I've committed."

"Why going such a long way?" The man suddenly asks, and you freeze, afraid you won't answer his question. "You could have jumped from the balcony and killed yourself instantly."

You lick your lips nervously. "I could, and Aemond would grieve me. But when he knows I prefer to go to his greatest enemy and have my body burnt rather than marry him, he'll be enraged."

Finally, you see a ghost of a smile on the Rouge Prince's lips. Yes, this is violent, resentful enough, a good reason for him to believe you. Mysaria's murderer wouldn't want to die like a faint lady-in-waiting. She'd want revenge. She'd want her betrayer to hate, not mourn her.

Daemon makes a move with his hand, and Caraxes crawls closer. There isn't much for him to lose.

"Let the boy go, and I'll burn you," he simply says, and you are ready to burst from the surge of adrenaline, your heart beating wildly.

He said yes. Daemon said yes, and you'll be going home.

"But please, burn me for long!" You almost cried out, too excited to keep calm and almost releasing your grip on the boy. "Burn me till there are only bones left."

Lucerys weeps in your grasp, but you don't hear him. You don't even feel the handle of the dagger in your own hand, eyes on Daemon as he smirks, recognizing a fellow monster he thinks you are, a daring creature dressed in white cloaks's robes and armor that don't even fit you. It is impossible to not recognize a woman in men's clothes, and yet no one asked questions when you boarded the ship. No one saw anything suspicious when you landed. No one demanded an explanation why a woman was marching in the Dragonstone castle among the Kingsguard. No one saw you kidnapping Rhaenyra's son.

Perhaps it is true you murdered Misariya and her spies. He knew somebody did. You are sure he thought of Larys, the slippery bastard, but tracking down so many spies in such a short time seemed very unlikely for him without someone's intervention.

Someone who could point at the right people as if by magic.

Truly, you are a creature he would never understand, but Daemon is not a fool. Leaving a dark horse like you alive is too much of a luxury when you are conveniently asking for death right in front of him.

The man nods, and you gigle like a madwoman.

"I'll let Lucerys go on the count of three," you announce, and Caraxes steps closer, his monstrous, clawed feet leaving giant imprints on the ground, and you feel the earth tremble a little. "Shoot the flames then."

It's a horrifying feeling, but you are electrified, every part of your body filled with magic you saved for the last incantation. You are going home. You will be back to the Tower, free to join your teacher and family. No more gloomy stone castles with their ice-cold chambers and pesky kings. No more swords, heavy armor, pretentious dresses, and silly jewels. No more spying and murder.

No more Hightowers and Targaryens.

"I'm sorry, kid," you whisper to the boy before you start counting. "One. Two."

Luce stills against you, color drained from his face.

"Three."

You drop your dagger, and he dashes to the side, holding his neck as if it bleeds profusely, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are on Caraxes and how it unclenches its massive jaw, fire building up inside its throat like in a forge of a blacksmith. It should be enough. Caraxes is not a young dragon, and his strength might rival Vhagar's. It will be enough.

When it unleashes its flames, the words of the incantation are ready on your tongue, and you feel the glow filling you up like hot air fills a giant balloon. It's working. Caraxes' fire is enough.

You chant, and you chant, and you chant until the world starts spinning around you, and the cave, the dragon, and the men finally blend into the great nothing.

________

Subtle wind plays with your hair.

You stand in the midst of the dead gardens of Babylon, surrounded by hollow grey trees that had dried up a thousand years before you were born. Their crooked forms don't scare you: you are far too familiar with the view, wandering here after each of your trips to the other worlds. On the contrary, if anything, it is comforting.

You have arrived safely back to the world of the Tower. You can even see it from here, its tall, proud form making you tranquil and nostalgic.

Unbelievable. You are home.

You have to wipe away the tears with your dirty hands before you can take a step towards it. You've made it. Soon, you'll be sitting on the red and yellow pillows in the great hall, listening to your teacher berating you for such a dangerous journey, eating barley soop and garlic bread, and wearing a long embroidered tunic and your many necklaces and rings. You will never see Westeros again. You won't even step out of the Tower before you feel whole again, pulling your old self back piece by piece before you remember nothing of the stupid, cruel world you have been a prisoner for two long years.

You are free to do as you like.

But when you make a step towards the Tower, you hear someone's sigh behind your back. And when you turn your head, you see a man dressed in black leather who sits on the trunk of a fallen tree.

__________

Aemond Targaryen stares back at you, a crooked smile spread over his face.

Part VII

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond #hotd #house of the dragon #the house of the dragon #ewan nation #yandere

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burr-ell · 1 year

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Hey, I find your takes on the current cr god discourse really interesting. Did you have anymore where that comes from?

Mostly that I'm tired of the smugness of certain fans. Even the people who aren't immediately telling Orym to get over his dead husband already have a tone of like, "well of course the poor dear can't look at it objectively, but let's not worry; it'll be so hard for him, but he'll see things our way soon enough and hate the gods too".

(And seriously, no one has any examples of why Pelor needs to be "humbled" in a way the other gods don't. What'd he do, other than not suck off your blorbo?)

On a more serious gripe: as others have said, no one who brings up the "b-but the gods ARE colonizers!" rhetoric has any kind of real solution to it. Do Kima, Vex, Scanlan, Pike, Wilhand, Fjord, Caduceus, FCG, and Deanna all need to be brought to court for aiding and abetting "colonizers"? The Ashari are the legacy of the Gau Drashari, who were tasked with keeping out the Primordials, and the guarding of the elemental rifts serves a similar function; are Keyleth, Korrin, Cerkonos, and Orym going to atone for the druids also perpetuating "colonialism"? Do we need to retroactively condemn the Ring of Brass, seeing as how they actually destroyed two Primordials in an effort to keep them from returning to the world?

What does justice look like here, exactly? Returning Exandria to the Primordials and elementals by unleashing Predathos on the gods? Except Predathos wants to eat Primordials too, so that'll end in a hurry, and if this is accomplished without Predathos, the Primordials destroy all the mortals like they've wanted to for eons and Critical Role ends with all our favorite characters dead and the company itself barely viable anymore. Get rid of the gods without returning the world to the Primordials? Well, now not only are you still perpetuating "colonialism", you've also got thousands if not millions of people (see above and et cetera) who will lose connections to beings that they love that helped them and brought them spiritual fulfillment—and there will be quite a few people serving gods who aren't nearly as good-natured as the Dawnfather or the Platinum Dragon who aren't going to be pleased at their passing and are absolutely going to find someone to take it out on. (Arkhan "stole the hand of Vecna" the Cruel was a pretty loyal servant of Tiamat, after all.) You're also losing access to quite a bit of medical care, since clerics are the ones who do most of that work, and while druids and bards could fill some of the gaps, I don't think we're exactly short on real-life examples of what happens when a society overextends its healthcare capacity. What's anyone in this scenario supposed to do?

Like, if the metaphor isn't actionable, it's a stupid fuckin' metaphor.

#critical role #cr discourse #asks

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skyloftian-nutcase · 8 days

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It was a particularly dark night tonight as the moon was hidden by clouds in the sky. The castle halls were silent, save for the occasional chatter of those on the night shift, guards and the few servants who were on call trying to stay awake.

The barracks were equally silent, though the song of crickets trickled in from outside and the snores of some soldiers and knights carried across the way. The Hero of Hyrule didn't notice, completely dead to the world.

He didn't notice as someone entered the room. He didn't notice as they pulled up a chair beside his bed, as they gently brushed hair out of his face. Link sighed a little, leaning into the touch, before it disappeared, tucking him a little.

The captain of the royal guard watched his son silently.

A heavy feeling pulled in his chest, and Abel tried to ignore it. Seeing Link sleep reminded him of when he was a little boy, but that boy was full grown now. Abel and Link saw each other fairly regularly when the young man was in the castle, but they hardly ever spoke - each had their own duties to attend to, and Abel knew his strong sense of obligation had been emulated by his son.

That was a good thing. It was. Link was an amazing knight, was renowned by the entire country, was chosen by the goddess. Abel was proud of him.

But proud as he was, he still missed his boy. He still wished he could spend time with him. It hurt, that they could be so close yet so far. Most days it made him happy to see Link fulfilling his role. But some nights it made his heart ache. So here he sat, basking in the comfort of being able to take care of someone who didn't need his care anymore.

Wasn't that the role of a parent? To raise their child so that they wouldn't need them? To make them a good person, a capable individual, someone who fulfilled their destiny set out by the goddess, someone who loved and fought and cared? Link was all of those things. He didn't need his father's help anymore.

Abel swallowed thickly. It was fine. This was enough. Just seeing him safe and comfortable was enough. The captain knew he was nowhere near as important as his boy, and he tried to stay out of his way. So this had to be enough.

Tomorrow Link would leave again, going on another journey with Princess Zelda. Supposedly, with her seventeenth birthday coming up, they were headed for Mount Lanayru for a final attempt to awaken her powers. Abel prayed it work. He didn't know the princess well, but based on his observations the girl needed all the help she could get.

This was his last chance to see Link again before they returned from their trip. So he would bask in it without being overbearing. His boy was a grown man now, and he didn't need him.

But sometimes, Abel found that... he still needed Link.

Sighing, he rested his hand on his son's back for a moment before rising. Perhaps someday he himself would grow out of this too. Either way, he needed to get some sleep. There was always work to be done.

He'd see his boy again when they returned, safe and sound as always.

#writing #breath of the wild #breath of the wild link #botw link #abel #legend of zelda #it'll be fiiiine Abel #absolutely nothing bad is gonna happen this time #this makes my heart hurt ugh #their lives suck #abel out here struggling with empty nest syndrome poor guy #JUST HUG HIM DANG IT

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blakeswritingimagines · 11 months

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Submissive yandere Aemond

You would have no reason to worry. He would take away your worries. He would remove all of the stress from your life. He would support you emotionally in all things. He would never shame you, and he would make sure you are always happy. But he would also remind you that he is the one in charge. That you are only his to love and to care for and to protect. He would want to know that he is the most important person in your life, and you must always listen to him. Because you can trust him. And trust is most important.

He would be by your side every second of every day. He would know every detail about you, from the way you look, feel, smell, and taste. He would want to know every thought that crossed your mind, every one of your secrets. He would be the only person you could ever trust, and he would never betray you or let you down. He would be the perfect lover, the perfect protector, and the perfect friend. He would give you everything you ever wanted, and more.

He is a devoted and loyal servant to you even as a prince. He would do anything to please and protect you. He is extremely possessive and he would do whatever it takes to keep you for himself. He is very protective and he would even hurt or kill anyone who tried to harm you. He has also become very submissive and he would do whatever you want just to avoid losing you. Lastly, he would go to any length to keep your affection and attention.

He likes to be used and abused by you. He enjoys being objectified and treated like your property. He also gets jealous of anyone who shows you any sort of attention and he would do anything just for a shred of your affection. He would do anything just to be close by your side and he would feel empty without you.

He is very clingy and needy. He requires attention and affection from you to feel complete or else he feels lost in the world. He wants to be owned by you and he wants them to take care of him. He enjoys acts of love but he also desires extreme acts of dominance from you. He is completely devoted to you and he wants to be controlled by you. He is yours entirely, body and soul. You are the only thing in the world that matters to him.

He knows his place. He knows that you are in charge. He would never backtalk nor would he dare defy your commands. You could ask him to do anything, even kill or harm himself, and he would do it without question. His life belongs to you and he does as he is told If you command him to do something in front of other people, he shall. Your commands come above all else. He exists to please you. It doesn't matter who is watching or what they think, it is his task to fulfill.

He loves oral whether it be giving or receiving although he never knows what to do with his hands when you go down on him so they usually end up tangled in your hair.

He doesn’t like acknowledging it but he’s a very horny person. He’s repressed his feelings, particularly the sexual ones, for far too long so now he’s just sexually frustrated like all the time.

Foreplay is always involved, it’s just a lot of kissing and wandering hands. He craves affection so it’s heaven to have you touching him, especially when there’s the promise of sex lingering behind every caress.

Even as a prince, he feels he must do what it takes to please you. If that means being down on his knees for you, then so be it. He is not above being humble and submissive. In fact, he feels that being on his knees is where he believes he belongs before you. So, yes, he would be down on his knees for you, for he is at your service.

To add further onto this, he will willingly allow himself to be stepped on, kicked, and abused. As a submissive yandere, he is a shell of a human being. He exists merely to serve you and allow you to exert your dominance over him. He will go as far as letting you use him as a human doormat. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts, he will continue on just to please you. The more pain he endures at your hands, the more he is rewarded with your attention and affection.

He does have one wish, even though he feels he will never be able to make it come true. It is his dream, his greatest wish, to hear you acknowledge his devotion to you. To accept him as your submissive yandere and reward him for his devotion. But that is all it is, a dream. It has become his life's goal to show you his devotion, to hear you say those words he wants to hear, and to know that he has satisfied you.

Anything you wish to do with him he lets you without a second thought about it. There is nothing that is off limits. If you wish to inflict pain or suffering upon him, he welcomes it and feel joy in it because that means he is doing his job well. There are no boundaries and nothing is too extreme. He enjoys belonging to you in every way possible.

Everything about him belongs to you. It is your choice what you wish to do with him or what you wish to have him do for your pleasure. If you are in the mood to have him kneel by you and beg as you look down and mock or degrade him, that is your prerogative. He would do anything to see the look of smug superiority in your eyes, to see satisfaction on your face. Because your happiness and satisfaction is all that matters, and his pain in comparison is nothing.

It is difficult for his family to comprehend, they are baffled by his behavior. Especially since he comes from one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. For someone of his station to behave in such a manner is quite puzzling to them. His family is unable to understand why he would behave in such a submissive and subservient way, but to him, it feels right. He feels at ease when he obeys you. It is the right thing to do.

He definitely has a praise kink, he’d do anything to get that sweet, sweet approval. He hardly ever gets any recognition or compliments so getting them in the bedroom is particularly appreciated.

He gets desperate pretty easily so you can get him to do what you want without much trouble although he’d probably just do it if you asked.

He honestly loves getting his hair pulled but he won’t ever admit it; not even to you. But you can see from the way he bites his lip or from the the way his mouth hangs open just a bit longer than normal when he gasps in surprise. You might even get a broken sounding moan if you catch him off guard.

Make him beg, make him crawl, it’s exactly what he wants.- Speaking of crawling, imagine him crawling over to you and moving between your legs waiting for you to tell him exactly what you want.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut

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galactic-cumslut · 1 year

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bleed magic

this was originally titled heavy metal heart but anyways here’s some evil!rick bc i love men who are totally irredeemable,, i hope it’s not obvious i didn’t know where i was going with this..bc i didn’t

rick is a mean dom, slave/master dynamics, afab reader, lots of degrading, cockwarming, exhibitionism , he just wants to show off his power be frl

you liked to think you had an ounce of pride in your body. it was just a thought though. in reality you had none left. he made sure of that.

“c-c-come to me pet. on your knees immediately”. he had said,long legs spread on his throne. his eyes bore into you daring you to refuse him.

instantly you fell to your knees, awaiting your next command.

“what an obedient slut, look at me a stick out your tongue”.

you wanted to resist. anyone could walk in at any time and see you in such a vulnerable state-being used by your lord. the teasing would surely kill you if the sheer embarrassment didn’t first.

a sharp smack to your face threw you back into reality. you hesitated. one thing rick doesn’t stand for is hesitation, once he gives an order he expects it fulfilled immediately.

“are you de-deaf or something, bitch? or do i need to s-spell every little thing out for you, jesus christ you’re stupid. tongue out. eyes on me”.

fear overcame you and you did as you were told. you expected him to insert his fingers inside your mouth but instead he leaned down and spit directly onto your tongue.

“swallow”. he commanded.

as shocked as you were you quickly swallowed. if wanting to be hit again.

rick seemed pleased with you eating up the fear in your eyes.

“there we gooo, all it takes is a little discipline with you huh”? he stroked your cheek gently and you willing lean into his touch. “you just want to be a good little slave for your master hmm”?

rick was almost never gentle with you so of course you were quick to answer. eager to receive more praise. “yes sir”.

“of course you do my darling little cum slut. on your feet at once”.

he offered you his hand as to help you up from the uncomfortable position between his legs.

“i’m going to explain what’s going to happen and you’re going to listen closely”.

you nodded, almost eager to hear what he had up your sleeve.

“the council is coming for a visit very soon and since you’re my most obedient servant you’re going to be shown off. it’ll asset dominance as well as keep attention on me”.

again you nodded, unsure of what he meant by his words. usually he didn’t allow the council anywhere near his lair. ‘what could have changed’ you thought.

“you have one job y/n. you’re going to sit still and stay quiet. your only duty is to look pretty”.

———————-

“welcome council of ricks. i trust you have all been briefed about the reason you are here”. rick bellowed , addressing the six other versions of him sitting in his court.

you in the other hand were in another world of bliss, sitting atop his cock infront of so many men.

less than an hour ago you were worried about someone walking in on you and your master. oh how things have changed. the many eyes locked onto your body-it gave you a feeling of power.

the feeling of his cock twitching inside you was enough to have you drooling. you did your best to sit up straight and smile.you didn’t want to disappoint your master after all.

as if he could read your mind he bucked his hips up slightly causing you to gasp in a mix of surprise and pleasure. “be a good girl infront of the other ricks and you’ll get a biiiig reward”. he whispered in your ear, nipping at your lobe.

“shall we conduct business”?

the group became silence and focused their eyes on rick…or they tried to as you stole their attention away from whatever brining speech rick had planned up.

“i understand that you’re all infatuated with my newest plaything” he started, a crazed grin spread king across his face. “give me what i ask and she is all yours”. fuck his speech, you were a much better bargaining chip.

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sal-absinthii · 24 days

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Rewatching AtLA cuz I'm cranky

Something that really stands out this time is how alike Zuko and Sokka are. They don't interact much directly in the series, but notably, they are the first each of them encounters immediately after their worlds come into contact. Sokka is standing alone at the front of his village when Zuko's ship lands, and Zuko deflects his attack with an ease that makes us feel a bit embarrassed for Sokka, who has been preparing for this his entire life. It struck me that really, it's the same for both of them -- they have both been preparing for this for a long time, and to the exclusion of everything else; it's their entire identity and reason for existing. They are set up as parallels before they meet, too, when we see each of them preparing for battle. Watching Sokka put on his makeup and gear, I was thinking how different it would feel to have seen this as a kid or teenager, when Sokka and Zuko seem grown-up enough to be doing this, than it is to watch it as an adult nearly twice their age and be aware of the elephant in the room that these are children. I don't want to say that they're playing dress-up, because that implies that it's their choice and that there's something innocent about it, but the reality is that it isn't for either of them; they are gearing up for a role that was placed on them by their fathers, by their cultures, by the circumstances, but it is not either of their choice even if they think it is. They are children fighting an adults' war, and even worse, it's a war that goes back generations. Aang draws attention to this pointedly, when Zuko, who in typical teenage fashion seems to think of himself as an adult, expresses surprise that the Avatar is "just a child" and Aang says "well you're just a teenager," a fact that is obvious to everyone except teenagers.

Sokka has to get ready on his own, Sokka has prepared himself, while Zuko is helped to get ready and has been trained more professionally, but Zuko is also alone; his helpers are faceless servants. The one person he has who cares about him, he pushes away. Sokka has his tribe and his family around him, but when he goes to fight it's only him, he puts himself out in the front, alone, because he thinks it's what he's supposed to do. Neither seems to know how fucked up it all is that either of them should be expected to live like this.

Zuko seems much more proficient at fighting than Sokka, but we also know that it's an illusion caused by being a big fish in a little pond, because in a previous scene we saw him struggling to master even the basics of firebending. Similarly, Sokka is the oldest "man" in the village, absurdly trying to teach little boys how to be men when he isn't even one yet himself. As we see later, Sokka struggles with feelings of inadequacy and some kind of impostor syndrome as the only non-bender in the group, feeling the conflict between trying to fulfil his role as the oldest boy and therefore supposed to be the strongest and the protector and being constantly aware that his little sister and this child are destined for great things and only at the beginning of coming into their full power, whereas he is "just the guy with the boomerang" (a boomerang that does manage to get one in against Zuko even after getting his ass immediately kicked, though). Zuko is the crown prince who was never as talented as his younger sister, who is in a certain role only because of an accident of birth while being always aware that he's second-best, that he isn't the most powerful and that his position, whether it's a good or bad position, is not due to merit, and that he is a disappointment.

Both are trying to impress absent fathers. Sokka's father is gone for legitimate reasons and has not intentionally hurt his son, but he is still not there to support and protect Sokka, and the pressures that he puts (or allows to be put) on Sokka still hurt him, even if the case can be made that they're justified because they are a small tribe at war with a big empire and Sokka will inevitably need to step into the role of warrior. Not only does Sokka not have his father, he doesn't have ANY adult male role models who are actually present in his life. Zuko's father is, of course, a raging abusive cunt who should be shot like a dog, but the effect on him is the same, because Zuko does not see him that way, at least not at the beginning. Zuko only internalises that he has failed, and that this makes him a failure, and "correcting" his "mistake" is all-consuming.

They both are impulsive and their pride is easily wounded. They both want the world to see them as disciplined warriors, but they are easy to set off, and this gets in both of their ways. Sokka's main character flaw that he overcomes is his pride. I would argue that even things like his sexism are just an extension of this, because he feels that if women and girls are skilled at things he wants to be skilled at, this is especially shameful, because it attacks his image of himself as a man according to his idea of what a man should be. But while it is something he needs to overcome, it is not his fault that he is like this. He is not sexist or prideful because he's fundamentally an asshole. This was taught to him at least implicitly by the messages given to him by his culture and family and the people he looks up to, that there are expectations of what it means to be a man and he must fulfil them, and it makes sense that he feels this as being threatened when challenged or shown up by girls or people younger than him. His entire idea of what masculinity is has to be constructed from the things he's picked up as a child, because there are no men in the village to be examples for him. Zuko is also prideful, and it comes from his obsession with honour, something taught to him by his culture and family and position, and it is also not his fault that he values this, or that he acts in a way that is consistent with what his idea of honour is. He was cast out by his father, and while he does have a potential/eventual role model in Iroh, it is a while before he is able to see him as one, because the values Iroh embodies are not the values Zuko was taught to have, and so for all intents and purposes, Zuko also has no role model in how to be the kind of person he's trying to be. He only gets that once he is able to see that his entire worldview has been flawed and that the things he thought were important to find and achieve were actually not good things. When children have shitty caretakers, they don't say "my parents are wrong," because if their parents are wrong, that's dangerous, because they depend on their parents for survival. So instead they think that they are the ones who are wrong, especially when their parents are actively telling them so. It's much easier to believe that you're wrong, because then you at least have power and control and the ability to change to keep the abuse from continuing, than it is to accept that the people you depend on are unpredictable or unfair or abusive or wrong. It is not Zuko's fault that he is trying to live up to the things he was raised to believe any more than it is Sokka's for having weird ideas about masculinity and pride. Neither of them have ever seen any different and have no perspective from which to start thinking that maybe they've been taught wrong.

Now I have other thoughts that are too digressing from fandom and so I will make that a separate thing but I wanted to get this out of my head because I'd never really considered these two characters as having much to do with each other, but they really do, and there are intentional parallels, and I think that's interesting.

#atla #sokka #zuko

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melpomenismask · 5 months

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Ketu Moon Natives and our Ketus 🖤

(an unedited, unrevised, stream-of-consciousness vedic astro note where I understand more of the point i was trying to make as I wrote it.)

Rando thought but I was analyzing my own astro today and if you’re a ketu moon you should especially pay attention to your ketu sign and nak!

I have a little theory that us ketu—and likely rahu— moons are more “susceptible” to the intense energies our destiny points signify—we can conquer using them, or become devoured by them, and I imagine wielding such forces can break those of is who might not have the luckiest charts/best spiritual, mental, and emotional foundations. Thus, it’s crucial we ground ourselves in the present—feel the sun on our skin, feel the time come and go instead of passively watching it, participate in life rather than floating through it. If we don’t put energy towards it we could find ourselves horribly lost, unrecognizable to who were once were or considered ourselves to be.

For an example, I decided to look up Bobby Fischer’s vedic chart—if you aren’t aware of him, he’s considered to be one of the best chess players of all time, if not regarded as THEE best because he just left that significant of a mark. He is a Purva Bhadrapada sun and Ashwini moon, Purnavasu asc, and his Ketu is in Dhanishta. He rose to fame meteorically as a child prodigy and famously broke down after he had won the title of the World Champion and didn’t return later to defend his title; he had a full mental breakdown and disappeared from the public eye—it’s a familiar story about how high and bright Dhanishta stars rise before cruelly plummeting back down to earth.

Luckily, Bobby isn’t a primary Dhanishta placement, as the archetypal Dhanishta story ends in death; Bobby is an Ashwini moon AND Magha rahu. He remained quite eccentric and unstable due to being so isolated as part of his paranoia, but he recovered sufficiently for the most part after he disappeared from the spotlight, but he lived peacefully in Iceland despite his mental and emotional struggles until his passing (I believe he had Saturn in the 12th).

Ashwini is also associated with very high intelligence, according to Claire Nakti’s research, and being one of the best chess players of all time requires a pretty impressive and sharp intellect!

Now, Magha is another factor here that I wanted to take a glance at, just because it also gains more significance through the lens of the Ketu placement/Ketu relationship, also it’s a small note.

Bobby rejects some of the Dhanishta mold in favor or satiating that Magha Rahu. He didn’t fall in line as Dhanishta does as a kind of servant, which is how so many famous natives of the nakshatra are tragically exploited and/or “drained” until it they and are replaced by another. That is his Ketu; Bobby gladly leaned into his Rahu in Magha. Of course a Purva Bhadrapada sun contributes to a bit of edge imho, but Bobby famously threw his weight around. He wasn’t shy about the fact that he was the best, he had a bit of a “Kingly” attitude!

For example, Bobby nearly didn’t go to his final title match for the World Champion title! Luckily he was convinced and he went.

The reason he suddenly refused to participate was because he wanted the prize money to be increased and he couldn’t agree to a location he wanted. He was famous to being this pedantic about game conditions: if his demands weren’t met, he wasn’t coming, so you better get ready to dance. His ego was absolutely huge, no doubt! This is quite a Magha thing to do, as he intends to run the show and “rule” the game, even to the point of where it is or what bulbs are shining over him and the board, because he’s the “King”. He’s the best and he knew it, and he proudly swung this weight around.

Once his mental health declined and he never defended his title, the rest of Bobby’s life became a poignant drift into being forgotten and unwell. In a way, he fulfilled the Dhanishta story—the “King” Bobby Fischer died much earlier than the man himself. He lived peacefully, but very lonely and disturbed. (This is something associated with ashwini moons in particular, of course, but I haven’t looked into that personally.)

It seems to me that the ketu moon’s relationship with ketu is extremely important because after he abandoned his Magha path, he fell into a Dhanista-esque afterlife of emptiness. One thing I particularly remember him for were his words “Nothing soothes as much as the human touch”. Bobby’s Venus was actually exalted in the Nakshatra of Revati, but he had a very anemic emotional life—not much is said about love throughout his life save for after he fell into that Ketu “void”. He married the president of the Japanese Chess Association in 2004, and reportedly had lived with her for years prior, but life had different plans for him: he was a fugitive by the time he had met her, as he had become wanted for arrest by the U.S. government for playing a game against Boris Spassky in Yugoslavia, which violated the President’s UN sanctions against the country. Bobby literally spat on the Presidential order in the match’s FIRST press conference. This was Bobby’s life after he refused to continue onward with defending his title. He was arrested in Japan and sustained injuries because he resisted arrest. He was fortunate to have Iceland give him a visa on Humanitarian grounds thanks to his Title Match in the country (Saturn in the 12th returning a karmic gift.)

He had no children.

I want to take a final moment to touch on an important thought for us ketu natives: it’s extremely important to fulfill those node missions for us. After Bobby stopped acting out his Rahu it turned against him because he had simply let go of his fate—the U.S. government quite literally attacked him and kicked him out of the country, a simple chess player! He refused any of Rahu’s energies after he had left the stage; he was already a relic of chess during the 90’s because he was still playing the chess of his time; he was already a “forefather” in his own lifetime, a mad king with a dulled crown, solitary despite the few connections he did make.

Maybe it’s because I’m a magha moon, but Bobby’s story always tugs at my heart. It’s so saddening and tragic when I think of the greatness he could’ve continued to build if he had more stability available to him. He still tried to act as Magha even when he was no longer in his Rahu path and I think the Martian nature of his Ketu’s nakshatra and the Saturn rulership of Aquarius absolutely ripped him apart every time he did. Magha is of course Ketu, but I also think of the fact that it’s also Leo. The Sun, the light! Bobby seemed to fall into his ashwini moon later in life, and lunar energies are obviously unstable (hence his mental illness), but that connection to his Dhanishta ketu made it even rougher in my opinion. It made everything even more heartbreaking considering he was so deep in shadow that only the smallest slivers of light could reach: his friend’s kids were fond of him; he had safety and security, but Bobby only had emptiness after the ketu energies were no longer being led by him, and ultimately pulled him down and into a time capsule ; the smallest world possible. Another negative effect of Magha is the danger of becoming racially superior—he was notoriously anti-semitic despite his Jewish heritage; he denied this and was also a Holocaust denier. He remained arrogant and proud as if the 1970s had never passed.

Ketu moons, we must make sure we don’t fall into our ketu’s energies helplessly, or we will waste away, and it can happen as quickly and permanently as it did for Bobby if you’re not careful with your mind, body, and spirit. (This goes for 12 housers too!!) I know it’s hard to stay on the ground, keep following the light when you don’t even know where to start to look for it, but you must persist.

Your destiny awaits.

#vedic astrology #vedic astro observations #magha nakshatra #dhanishta #rahu and ketu #vedic astro notes #Spotify

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darlingpwease · 10 months

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Now that I’m thinking about it.

How is Shen jiu like with reader.

And if we were Luo bingge “Moral pet” who died, what would he do if he met us in another universe where we are alive?

everyone needs an owner

♡ unhealthy behaviour, mention of tortures, mention of death, mention of killing, forced relationship if you squint; 'shixiong' for reader

I used 'morality pet', but you are rather closer to 'morality chain', especially if you stay after LUO BINGHE returns from the Abyss and you are literally the only thing that keeps him sane and trying to be a good person, even if he is a half-demon, — only to find out with shock and horror that you are dead.

this is definitely what is the final trigger for his darkening and first the brutal torture and murder of all who caused your death — and then the complete rejection of any 'humanity'which he could have had. the only one who loved him and cared about him — and only that he didn't even have your body?

only for him to come back and find out that the love of his life is dead?

then what's the point of being 'good' if he can't even deal with those who led you to death?

all those who could not save you deserve only death.

... if Shen Qingqiu hadn't thrown him into the Abyss, you would have lived. he would have saved you. he would sacrifice his reputation, his cultivation, his life, but he would save you. you would be alive. you would be with him.

If he had stayed, you would never have left him.

you were always worried that LUO BINGHE felt inferior when Shen Qingqiu was strangely favoritist towards you, — even if he asked you no less, — but LUO BINGHE never considered it 'strange' or unfair. as long as you let him wander after you, always petted, brought food, gently asking what he wants to do and always hugging him tightly, letting him know that you will always be there and are sure that he will become a great cultivator and person, he didn't dare complain about anything. he liked to take care of you and please you like your servant, and always tried to be there, blooming like a flower after he was given water when your gaze touched him.

even if Shen Qingqiu took up too much of your time, as if not realizing that you were not a river, but his source, he could only bare his fangs and growl, but retreat, allowing everything to happen, having nothing to the extent to hinder, even if your smile, which would only be for him, would be enough for him to give his life for you with pleasure.

you were everything he could never have been, even if he tried; his everything. nobody else's. it doesn't matter 'what kind of relationship you have with Shizun', especially when various rumors begin to creep — LUO BINGHE wants to dig into everyone's throat with his fangs and tear them apart, but Shen Qingqiu copes with especially talkative much faster and easier when there are fewer and fewer of them at the peak.

at least in some ways their interests are similar.

he kills him much faster, even without torture, although he could have torn out his hands, gouged out his eyes and cut out his tongue — but for the first time in his heart, cold mixes with flame, giving his, no, your former Shizun a peaceful death. his heart beats neither faster nor slower when Shen Qingqiu dies before his eyes, even if something inside him should feel relief at the thought that his abuser is dead — but what's the point if you, his most important person, don't come to life?

LUO BINGHE would kill everyone if it revived you, he would make the whole world speak the language of blades — but what's the point if you're not with him?

... his demonic nature, fed by cold calculating hatred and a passionate thirst for what he cannot get, turns out to be much easier to tame than he thought — 'shidi, you will become a great cultivator' he fulfilled your words, right? — especially when Xin Mo lies as if poured into his palm, having found the perfect balance between two facets, where your image still remains the most painful and the most joyful in his life, even if you have always sought to be an example for him and a support, finding something in the brilliance of his eyes and a statuesque figure, always descending to reach out to him like no one before, like a phoenix that soared into the sky only to land on his shoulder, or a dragon floating in the water column, but swimming aground for him.

how could he not adore you?

his fate was sealed from the first meeting.

Xin Mo responds with a vibration when Luo Binghe touches it.

... you are so magnificent — in the form of a disciple of the peak, which LUO BINGHE himself destroyed in the past; with your hair in a hairstyle that he always wanted to let down and see how you look when relaxed; with a light gait, characteristic of each member of the peak, known for its silence and the absence of any sounds at all except those places that were fenced with a barrier like training grounds, and your beautiful subtle smile that he always saw on your face, even if you weren't smiling. everything about you was breathtaking and filled with grace and grandeur, even if you were just walking or eating; after all, it was not for nothing that you walked all the way with him, and would definitely have reached the very end if he had protected you. he will definitely protect you.

Xin Mo in his hand is thirsty for blood, feeling what the person he so desperately craves is so close and far away, so tantalizingly far away that LUO BINGHE has to dig his nails into his skin so as not to pounce and take you with him, seeing you sitting alone in a bamboo forest, enjoying moments of peace, without suspecting anything.

LUO BINGHE has nothing to do — what can he do? grab you? convince you to leave? what does he want to do? you... you were always there for him at such moments when he was thinking about such things, feeling how you tried to help him understand his desires — and even after you died, he always touched your little thing with him, as if looking for an answer from you, leaving the feeling that you are still here, with him.

“... Shidi?”

The old form is unusual for the body, even reduced, and his attempt to hide the demonic mark is also silly in its own way — but he cannot hide the sweet smile that breaks through the shy expression of his face, although his eyes burn with adoration.

“Yes, my shixiong? Did my shixiong call this shidi? Can this shidi help my shixiong?”

Killing the current LUO BINGHE is easier than simple — as well as taking his place, approaching you with timid but hungry steps, as if not a 'little naive lamb', but a stalking predator who is just waiting for the opportunity when you relax enough to grab your throat with his teeth. Even if you don't see the difference, you feel it, looking at his happy rosy face, delicate thin strong figure, the shine of adoring eyes and a slight tremor that LUO BINGHE tries to hide as he comes closer, as if trying to control himself.

“My shixiong... yo– this shidi... can?”

The excitement in his voice is both so familiar and unfamiliar that you just shake your head, pointing to a place nearby.

“Just sit next to me. Get some rest. You've been working a lot lately.”

You've noticed that he's been working a lot lately.

A tremor runs through his body so large that he can only nod thoughtlessly, sitting closer, letting a few more drops fall to the ground.

Now he is much, many times stronger than you and even Shizun, but when you caress him for a good job, he wants to reveal himself so much and beg you to go with him, even if he knows that he can't.

Can he get a 'good boy' from you if he behaves ethically manipulative enough?

You're alive. You are healthy. He hears your breathing, your movements.

He wants to kiss you so badly.

He even feels the warmth of your body, your smell, the way your blood circulates in your body.

He wants so badly to mix your blood with his.

And the way your chest rises while you sit in silence.

You are so perfect. You don't need anyone but him.

He's finally going to be a good person. Just for you.

You are the only thing that matters.

He won't give you up to anyone or anything.

“My shixiong... would you like to have some tea?”

#❖.my jewelry #🥮 — svsss #✉.luo binghe #🧸.yandere au #🧸.dead reader