#hard vs soft science

[haggishlyhagging]

We have arrived at our final point: the importation of clinical Freudianism to stem the flow of feminism. Girls in the twenties and thirties found themselves halfway in and halfway out of the traditional roles. Thus they were neither insulated and protected from the larger world as before, nor were they equipped to deal with it. Both their personal and work lives suffered. Their frustration often took hysterical forms, complicated by the fact that they were despised the world over for even the little false liberation they had achieved. Mass confusion sent them in droves to the psychoanalysts. And where had all the psychoanalysts come from? By this time a war was going on in Europe, and much of the German and Austrian intelligentsia had settled here in search of a practice. It was ideal: a whole class of suffering people awaited them. And it was not just a few bored, rich women who were sucked into the new religion. For America was undergoing serious cramps from withholding a sexual revolution already well beyond the beginning stages. Everyone suffered, men as well as women. Books came out with such titles as How to Live with a Neurotic (because that oppressed class is right there in your kitchen, whining and complaining and nagging). Soon men, too, were turning up at the psycho-analysts. Well-educated, responsible citizens, not just psychos. And children. Whole new fields were opened to deal with the influx: child psychology, clinical psychology, group therapy, marriage counseling services, any variation you can think of, name it and there it was. And none of it was enough. The demand multiplied faster than new departments could be opened up in colleges.

That these new departments were soon filled up with women is no wonder. Masses of searching women studied psychology with a passion in the hope of finding a solution to their "hangups." But women who had grown interested in psychology because its raw material touched them where they lived soon were spouting jargon about marital adjustment and sex-role responsibility. Psychology departments became halfway houses to send women scurrying back "adjusted" to their traditional roles as wives and mothers. Those women who persisted in demanding careers became in their turn instruments of the repressive educational system, their new-found psychological “insight”—that babble of Child Psych., Social Work 301 and El. Ed.—serving to keep a fresh generation of women and children down. Psychology became reactionary to its core, its potential as a serious discipline undermined by its usefulness to those in power.

And psychology was not the only new discipline to be corrupted. Education, social work, sociology, anthropology, all the related behavioral sciences, remained for years pseudo-sciences, overburdened with a double function: the indoctrination of women, as well as the study of "human" behavior. Reactionary schools of thought developed: social science became "functional," studying the operation of institutions only within the given value system, thus promoting acceptance of the status quo.

It is not surprising that these remained "women's fields." Men soon fled to (exclusively male) "pure" science; women, still only semi-educated, awed with their new entrance into academia, were left to be snowed with the pseudo-scientific bullshit. For, in addition to role indoctrination, the behavioral sciences served as a dike to keep the hordes of questing "nouveaux intellectuelles" from entering the "real" sciences—physics, engineering, biochemistry, etc., sciences that in a technological society bore an increasingly direct relation to control of that society.

As a result, even access to higher education, one of the few victories of the early W.R.M., was subverted. More average women went to college than ever before, with less effect. Often the only difference between the modern college-educated housewife and her traditional prototype was the jargon she used in describing her marital hell.

-Shulamith Firestone, The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution

#shulamith firestone #psychology #freudianism #feminism #female oppression #hard vs soft science

[francisforever2014]

“it’s so cool that an electrician can install wires but a construction worker can only build a frame”

#ik it’s a joke and the true loves kiss thing is funny. BUT lemme be pedantic for a sec and say #that this dichotomy of ‘person that can give pills' as a neutral/positive thing vs #person than can 'ONLY' give what is assumed to be useless/frivolous 'advice' is such a microcosm of why online discourse on this subject is #ridiculous and reductive at best but harmful at worst #and this is not me defending psychology btw like it is an incredibly problematic field that has hurt many people and continues to do so #which is why i stopped studying it bc i couldn't reconcile all that #but the idea of psychiatry as a like... more pure/effective alternative to that is so???? #like first of all they're fully different specialties which is what first annoyed me like they're literally just not the same field so ofc #they do different things... that's how specialization works... #but it's a joke so sure #but going further than that i think that reducing psychiatry to 'giving pills' as if that's a better solution than 'true loves kiss' #(aka cognitive behavior therapy i'm assuming aka coping mechanisms and plans to change your life/cope with what you can't change) #is like i said very reductive bc psychiatry is (similarly to psych) a field with deeply problematic origins and uses to this day #and medical determinism and the idea of all 'hard science' fields being neutral and without fault bc they're 'science' where psych and othe #'soft sciences' are flawed is a very harmful idea bc it lets hard science off the hook for all of the ways it is flawed and just as #subjective and vulnerable to cultural influences as psych #BUT this is silly . bc it's a tweet #it's just such a common idea and thing seen within most discussions about psych where this dichotomy is created and people speak about #'pills' and 'chemical imbalances' and 'serotonin' or WHATEVER as if they're inherent truths #the same way people speak about mental illness as an inherent truth #bc of this 'hard science' 'soft science' dichotomy that has been adopted into popular culture #even though it's a fallacy! #and a harmful one but again this is just a silly tweet so it's not that serious but the larger discourse is and i cannot STANDDDD it

[235uranium]

every day i barely restrain the urge to bitch about the social sciences

#☢️.txt #listen. all of the fields under this umbrella are legitimate and worth studying #but trying to group them with mainline stem is. silly at best #ppl always turn this into a 'hard vs soft sciences' thing but like. its not that! #im gonna be honest before i took higher level social science classes i didnt think much about this but like. the social sciences #place huge emphasis on the subjective nature of things and imho that goes against the very core philosophy of the natural + logical science #and like. that methodology WORKS for these fields. history benefits from a degree of subjectivity #but social 'scientists' always get pissed off that natural and logical scientists DONT consider that valid #in our fields!!! god the amount of social 'scientists' who insert themselves into physics discussions #using extremely complex aspects of quantum mechanics to justify themselves #while half of them bitch about being expected to know stats. is absurd #im gonna be real i think ppl are attached to the term social sciences bc they think thats the only way for those fields to be taken #seriously and like. thats the fucking problem isnt it???? #you want fields outside of STEM proper to be taken seriously but you continually reinforce this idea by insisting #fields like history and sociology Have to be sciences in the same way as biology and mathematics #and instead of accepting that. youre the humanities its fine its literally fucking fine #you do stuff that scientists dont do. bc science alone cannot answer every single question people have #the naturalistic + objectivist worldview is very good in certain contexts! but it has faults! #and the same applies to the philosophies behind social sciences! #you cannot use the techniques in anthropology in physics and vice versa. its fucking fine #also humanities people need to stop craving approval from STEM people its so. #you are reinforcing the cycle youre pissed off about

[communistkenobi]

I like this youtube channel in general but they just put out a really good video about the politics behind historical image processing

#video #talks about some history in stem fields I wasn’t aware of #anyway it’s so funny whenever there’s a gendered divide in academia the guys get the ‘hard’ label and woman ‘soft’ #hardware vs software / hard science vs soft science etc

[cauliflowercounty]

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?

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers @rougegenshin @itshype@woodland-mist @tian-monique @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @allthingsimagines @meetmeatyourworst @nyaaaaa008 @caroline334 @alana4610 @targaryen-madness

Tags that aren't working for some reason??? @roguegenshin @miaraises

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

[misscammiedawn]

Legitimacy vs Selection Bias in Hypnosis

This has been on our mind a lot recently. It's mostly been sparked by the recent Mindless Banter podcast run by @theleeallure @enscenic and @hypno-sandwich where the three hosts spoke about how they dislike academic models of hypnosis and a recent post by @h-sleepingirl discussing why they herald hypnotic education.

One thing that is always going to be true about the advocates of our kink who have been involved with the community for a long time is that we are going to be experienced and capable hypnotists and/or hypnotees.

Likewise those who join and find themselves brought in to the fold tend to self-select; if a person is not able to find any success or joy in hypnosis because it's not working or they do not gel with the styles taught and practiced then they will not hang around.

This means that we have a functioning ecosystem of people who know the lingo, who are primed to react as they should and tend to have things work for them.

Which is great! It makes it so much easier to work out when everyone is on the same page.

But it also creates an insular community.

I've written before on why the insular nature of our community worries me.

One of the lines I wrote in that post was this

One of the big differences between the online erotic hypnosis community and the NGH (National Guild of Hypnotists) who rue our existence is that we do not require legitimacy to function when they themselves exist in a half-truth state where when receiving both of my certifications it was impressed that we needed to perform an uneasy dance of providing services without practicing medicine because hypnotherapy is not licensed psychology in the same was that chiropractors are not performing medicine.

Legitimacy is the idea of taking what we do, what we are, what we believe and what we practice and trying to make it valid to those outside of the community. It's performing studies, it's building a framework of hard rules, it's about pretending that we understand how the brain works beyond the anecdotal evidence that we witness it every day within our corners and communities.

Fact is, hypnosis is a malleable and belief-based practice that rests right in the middle between faith and science. As mentioned in the above linked post, trance can be detected on an EEG:

Source

Our last post on this topic just spoke about accepting that we exist in a soft science where what we believe, how we approach our beliefs and what ideas we allow to take root in our minds will have a firm impact on how the minds of the hypnotists and hypnotees we interact with.

Today I want to talk about why keeping the education and the science involved in the conversation is important.

Because, like the Mindless Banter crew, I have reached the point of my career in hypnoplay where should Dawn wish to induce a trance she need only find a partner, lay out what will happen and perform. The rest of it just happens.

Once you reach a level of confidence and community, it pretty much takes care of itself. The interaction between a hypnotist and a person who has never experienced trance before and the interaction between a hypnotist and an enthusiast will play out differently.

What I mean by this is if Dawn is approached in DM by someone who wants a session she will be able to pick up a number of tells without even noticing it on their confidence and experience. Someone shy, unsure and untrained will not dive straight in. Which makes the encounter less likely and even if it does happen it comes from the power dynamic of a teacher and student rather than two enthusiasts going to town.

This is normal and it's not a bad thing. It just means that the typical educator in the hypnokink community is typically aware of the "weight class" of their hypnotees which paints their expectations of how things will go and allows for a line between the way hypnosis is taught in 101 and how it is practiced in enthusiast circles.

It's why Progressive Muscle Relaxation is something which gets scoffed at a lot in our circles. The typical enthusiast does not need to spend 20 minutes on an induction when their typical partner is someone they can hold the shoulders of, stare at with intent and give permission for the hypnotee to drop.

That isn't to say that experienced hypnotists only play with experienced hypnotees. It just means that the majority of the play from those who educate does not match the material that we teach to beginners. Not a bad thing.

But it does breed this divide I mentioned. Between the experience of those who do this all the time and what is "academic".

So, besides helping new people into the community or playing in pure theoretical space, why must we keep the academic approach involved?

Well, first... the science does inform what we do. Yes, a lot of this is based on belief but there is a large amount of the science which is just fact no matter what we do. The neuroplasticity of traumatized brains is a topic we type about a lot given our dissociative disorder. I mentioned in my Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis post that there are multiple studies that there's a higher hypnotic suggestibility in those with conditions that include dissociation as a symptom. The fact that this was being taught in a 101 class was why I made that post to begin with.

From my Mind Makes It Real post I mentioned that we need to be aware of the truths to keep ourselves in check. We should always be wondering "am I wrong?" about everything and the moment one lets go of the academic framework and commits to the loose ethos of "it just works" you lose a little bit of that footing and external perspective. We're an insular community and there's an element of "the popular ideas win out", not to stress a point too much but the whole hatred of the progressive muscle relaxation induction is a good example of this. I know a few community leaders who reflexively rant any time they hear it. These people have the ability to control the con schedule. They teach classes and part of their lesson is their personal disdain for that approach. This goes into the minds of those who were taught by that person and becomes part of the internal dogma. Suddenly you have a situation where a minority of people in the community need to defend the PMR.

I do not actually care too much about PMR but it really is one of the most accessible entry level trances and the disdain for it is a little gatekeepy, if I am being honest. I don't think any individual means for it to be something they keep out of the community but enough individuals following a trend creates a community concept, a widely held belief.

And hypnosis is entirely about widely held beliefs. Thus it is now a fact that PMR is boring and ineffective and there's more fun ways to do trance. That is an example, hopefully one that is understandable to an audience who are also into hypnokink (apologies to my non-hypnosis Tumblr followers, I hope if you're reading this you enjoy this peak into a little internet sub-culture).

Which brings me to legitimacy.

Do we really need it?

Hypnosis is both science and fantasy. A person attending a hypnokink convention could treat hypnosis with the technical skill and care that one would approach as ropeplay, learning all of the different terms and all of the safety procedures and treating it as a psychological version of what can be physically observed.

But you may also have someone who treats hypnosis as roleplay and improv with a framework not too dissimilar from a tabletop sourcebook for D/s shenanigans that they can learn and play within much the same as a D&D player can switch to World of Darkness. I guarantee there are a large number of people in the hypnosis community who do this and they're not wrong for doing it.

But as I mentioned above. Hypnosis is a scientifically observable phenomenon and it is dangerous if abused. Heaven knows I know that more than most. One must not believe in the dangers for them to be real. An immature hypnotist is a danger to a hypnotee regardless of if they think they are roleplaying or performing edgeplay. And the same is true for a hypnotee, too. If one believes it's all roleplay then their limits and safety will be at a different level than someone who is aware of the risks.

One need only look to the dark corners of our community where covert hypnosis is practiced eagerly, recruitment is a game and personality erasure is an aesthetic to know that there are uncomfortably large swaths who are practicing hypnosis from the perspective of fantasy. I do not want to pull out the news articles about how Disney Deer brainwashing ruined people's lives again.

The good news is that within the educator/convention going portion of the community we do teach this stuff. We do make everything clear. We're not currently in a community where academic approaches are shrugged off.

But it makes me uncomfortable when experienced educators in the community forget how far their words reach and dismiss the academic for the sake of "what works".

We do not need to seek legitimacy for the eyes of those outside of the community. We do not Demand To Be Taken Seriously. We have a community where people are welcome to join or not join. We do not need external legitimacy.

But we need internal legitimacy.

We need the people who practice within our care to know that they're practicing with dangerous tools that can and will mess a person up if treated without proper care.

Safety and education require we keep room for the academic and seek to legitimize what we do or those who look at hypnosis as pure fantasy will not be able to recognize the risk.

At least, that's my opinion.

-

For more of our ramblings on hypnosis and the hypnosis community, please check out our Hypnokink Writing tag for other bits of education and commentary like this <3

#camden posting #hypnokink #hypnokink writings #hypnosis #hypnosis community

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 9

Mercymorn The First (The Locked Tomb) vs GLaDOS (Portal)

Mercymorn The First is a Cryogenics Scientist and Anatomist!

GLaDOS is a Quantum Physicist and Behavioural Psychologist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Mercymorn The First:

"Scientist working on human cryogenics/necromancy. She's a genius in a codependent toxic polycule with God."

"Fits the criteria for STEM (science, tech, engineering, math (specifically science)), and also Quirky STEM (stabbing, tearing, eating, maiming). She was a scientist trying to save humanity from global warming, before one of her science buddies became a necromancer and killed the entire world. Now she’s the meanest lady ever and had a threesome with god. Also she got ultra exploded (also by god)"

"She was trying very, very hard to save humanity! She was aiming to preserve people for an interstellar voyage, so that humans could survive the end of the world. It didn't work out and the project got shut down, but after the world ended she pioneered the field of necromantic healing and was known as the foremost anatomical expert among God's Lyctors. She says ick! bleh! out loud when she's disgusted. Also she's much, much more ethical than most people in the series."

"She was a doctor that joined several of her friends, most of whom were other STEM people and a few who weren't, in trying to convince the governments of the world to make an active plan to save the world from climate change. This ended up with one of them destroying the solar system and everything in it, resurrecting it all, and becoming God. She was resurrected as one of his Saints, and continued to use her medical knowledge to become an anatomy specialist and as a key part of a plan between her and another of their friends to take down God for being a tyrant. She might have been an OBGYN but I can't remember if that's actually canon. Also, she has naturally "apricot-colored" (so, pink) hair."

"She was a Regular Doctor working to save humanity from climate change but got resurrected by her friend after he ended the world and became a powerful goddess-like figure. She uses her knowledge of human anatomy to do crazy flesh magic including making her hair naturally pink just for funsies (iconic). She doesn't put up with any bullshit from anyone, including the universe's ostensible god. I love her"

"It's not specifically described but she was the medical support in a cryosleep project, and she knows enough later to have artificially created a baby without either of the biological parents knowing about it

She's the worst and I love her. Here's a description of her in Harrow the Ninth:

You could press your hand to Ianthe’s chest, if you wanted—which you didn’t, naturally—and the blood-warm sternum beneath would gradually unfold for you. But it would take effort, and close contact, and you would need to know the sternum.

Mercymorn the First knew the sternum. Mercymorn the First knew the pericardial fat, the soft-tissue secrets of the mediastinum, the false-heart shape of the thymus. You might have to press your whole palm to Ianthe’s breastbone—doubtless—and take valuable seconds to search out the bone, and the things behind the bone, their characters, their locations. Mercymorn could pinpoint your pineal gland with the merest touch to the skull. This was not due to some Lyctoral power that she alone possessed, no honed necromantic theorem; as God had told you, she had simply memorised the body, by rote, over the course of ten thousand years. She had studied the measurements and their range of differences, and on the rare occasions when she needed to assume where something was or how it worked, her assumptions had the accuracy of ten thousand years’ experience. What Mercy didn’t know about the body wasn’t just not worth knowing, said the Emperor; if she didn’t know it, it hadn’t existed previously.

Over the dinner table you asked Augustine why, if it was simply a matter of memory, he hadn’t done the same thing. Ianthe choked discreetly on a forkful of boiled flour-paste shapes in red sauce. “Lord! I can barely remember what I had for lunch last week,” he said. “Besides, anatomy has too narrow an application.” Mercymorn opened her mouth, hurricane eyes promising a coastal lashing, and said, “Application!” but Augustine said, languidly— “One would only really need it to kill Lyctors, Harrowhark, and the rest of us never evinced any interest in that.”

That broke up the dinner somewhat.

This is her and I love her dearly

https://youtu.be/pvJOuUJNcx8"

GLaDOS:

"i’m not sure how to explain this one. she’s an evil computer who makes a woman do fucked up tasks that all involve a portal gun in some way. evil computer woman i love you :3"

"She's witty, fun, they had to restrain her intelligence and it didn't work-"

"She should be able to kill everyone forever. Anyways she runs aperture she loves science so much it transcended lives and identity. It’s just what she does"

"she kills people 👍 shes cool and i like her"

"…. I mean she’s categorically not but it would be funny to include her. Again, it would be Very Funny"

"mad scientist robot representation with a complex emotional arc through multiple video games"

"She might not know what the point of her tests are, but she sure is good at making them. Bonus points for being hot"

"Managed a massive and highly advanced scientific facility in which she ran tests and experiments long after the fall of human civilization. Chell/GLaDOS <3"

"She’s GLaDOS"

#stem sister scuffle #round 1 #mercymorn the first #the locked tomb #glados #portal #portal 2

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro, darling

A and Q for Hideout Steve (I thought about requesting Z and then realised, for him, it’s everywhere 😂

For this ask game, and they are dirtayyyyyy.

Little different than general solo steve and I'll elaborate on when he's soft-spoken vs. loud (Low key hilarious that Hideout!Steve is soooooo sensitive and Fools!Steve is the polar opposite.)

MINORS DNI. I know you're sick of me saying it, but this is not for youngsters. I will not hesitate to let you know when a fic is all-age friendly!

A - Alone Time

Let's start from the beginning. When 'Grant' first starting visiting the motel, he really didn't have any dreams/delusions/fantasies about having a love life, and since Steve always imagined he'd only have sex with someone he was able to court and know pretty well, he resigned himself to never finding someone until his exile ended. (Considering in canon, it never really ended, we see he had a point.)

Once something does develop between you, despite all odds, he gets to hope, and hope is a drug to Steve Rogers.

He doesn't have a lot of time where he's truly alone while bunking with Natasha and Sam--sometimes Wanda and Viz, too--so I feel like Steve has mastered the art of innocent imagination. When he thinks of you it's not graphic, not unless he can be in a separate room or, preferably, building than the rest of his group.

They all understand though. Each of them clammers for some distance as often as is safe.

Bathing marks the only real and consistent time Steve has alone, meaning you helping wash his hair in the tub counts as a double whammy to his fantasies.

There was a lot of crossover in his dreams that night since the association is too strong. He touches himself in the shower, you were in the bathroom with him, and thus, he dreamt of you touching him in the shower. He woke up to that being almost the reality, too, so that wet dream has been pretty consistently on repeat.

From that point on, the urge to imagine what could happen gets much worse. The group doesn't have a routine. They bounce from place to place and spend wildly different amounts of time in each location. To date, the motel is only one of three places they've stayed two times, and it is the only place they've gone back to more than twice. It's not fucking rocket science to understand what's so appealing to Steve that he nudges and hints at returning as often as is strategically plausible.

If by chance Steve actually gets a room to himself and is truly alone for a few hours, it's difficult not to take advantage, spread out, and sleep, however, but he sleeps even better after writhing around as a horny mess for about twenty minutes, working himself up, humping the mattress and his hand, moaning into the pillows like a whore (at least he thinks he sounds like those 'painted' women back in the '30s and '40s), and coming hard on his abs. He vaguely knows he's a glutton for punishment by how long he tries to milk his orgasm. It works though. He can last a bit longer now--even with the vivid memory of what it feels like to be inside you--yet he doesn't really need to last when his alone time is so limited. Should he...practice that? Should he be trying to hold out longer?

Dillema!

Q - Quiet Please

sjdbviuarb;viubsnlvk

oops, sorry, got lost in my thots about how loud Steve can get while fucking you. Honestly, if you two have enough privacy, he's even goddamn noisy while eating you out.

As I hope I've established many times, Steve Rogers in any universe can't talk dirty to save his life. He can lie better than he can say words like 'fuck,' or 'cunt,' and will never ever say the word 'pussy' in reference to your body or a cat (now that he knows what some people use the term for). I have no clue why 'cunt' would be better than 'pussy,' but 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is my headcanon so here we go. He uses any curse words so seldom that it doesn't really matter. He'd have to be pretty surprised by the intensity of something or at peak possessiveness to utter stuff like that. (If he has to reference it, usually he just says "you're so wet," "you're squeezing me so tight," or "do you need me?" Very general, no bad words required.)

ANYWHO: volume.

As much as I ::melts:: love the idea of Steve getting louder when he's tired, he has grown to enjoy the thrill of being quiet and sneaky.

He's got to get his kicks somewhere, right? So he's almost trained himself to be completely silent (to the point of holding his breath, which is a whole other kink for way later) while he imagines that you can travel with them for some reason. It's a fantasy; he hasn't worked out the details. He'd still want to be buried inside you or fingering you till you come if you had to share a room with the group for a night. He'll be quiet if you will. They'll never know. He promises. Please, Tops. Please. He wants to touch you, to hold you, to feel you everywhere...

Yup, Steve can be silent as the grave or hitting opera notes; it's all good as long as he gets to be with you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

One more cowboy cat for the road!

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #hideout series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x you #nomad steve

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

🔴Post Info: UA is an HBCU. Reader is black. The boys are Alphas and Reader is a Delta. Katsuki is frat prez, because we all know he's mixed🤣

🔴I had to do a lot of research on reindeer for this, lmao.

Rating: Suggestive🍭

"Baby! Oh my God! You look so pretty and dainty. Just like a deer!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Eiiji; he always got so enthusiastic watching you get dolled up for parties.

Tonight, Alpha Phi Alpha is hosting their annual Naughty vs Nice Christmas party. It's a costume party, so all frat members and pledges are required to dress up.

Eiji is pledging along with some of his classmates: Denki, Mashairo, Izuku, and Mineta.

The junior and senior members (Katsuki, Hanta, Shoji, and Shoto) had specifically instructed the pledges to dress up as Santa's reindeer while all of them would dress as elves. Katsuki, would of course be dressed as Santa.

With you being Eiijiro's girlfriend of a year now, of course he'd be bringing you along with him to this event. 

Everyone who was anyone would be there, and lots of girls from your sorority, Delta Sigma Theta, would be there as well.

“Thank you, Eiiji! You’re such a cutie. Hey sweetie pie, will you please pass me my lip gloss on the desk over there?” 

Your sweet, redheaded boyfriend nodded happily and got up from his seat on your bed to grab the makeup product for you. “Uh, baby, which one is it? There’s like fifty of them.”

His red eyes stared down at your makeup table which contained various products for primping. 

The lip gloss you were speaking of was contained in a small jar. You had ordered it from one of your favorite Etsy shops.

With a small giggle, you walked over to help him out. 

“This one, pumpkin. The lip creams. Thank you for trying, boo.” He blushed when you pecked him on the temple with your soft, plump lips.

Eiijiro, like the gentleman that he was, pulled out your vanity chair so you could sit down and apply the gloss, called Red Hot, to your pouty lips. After adding some lipliner and blending, your ensemble for the evening was finally complete.

“Okay, I’m ready, Eiiji.”

“Awesome! Well, let’s get to prancing then, my lovely little ungulate lady!” 

“Ooo, big word! I see you’ve been studying your vocabulary lists!” He nodded profusely, making the antler headband atop his head bounce around.

Most of your peers think that Eiijiro is just a big, dumb jock but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The two of you often have study dates in the campus coffee shop or either of your dorm rooms. 

He knows that if he wants to stay on the football team and keep his scholarship that he’ll have to study extremely hard and you’re more than glad to help him out with his goals.

Your roommate, Mina, who just so happens to be a childhood friend of Eiiji’s, is almost never in the room so that gives the two of you a lot of alone time.

—-

The Party

“Hey! The golden couple has finally arrived, now shit can finally start getting interesting!” Denki bounded over to the two of you, his own set of antlers bobbing on his messy blonde bedhead. He threw an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. 

“Who are you supposed to be? Dasher?” You giggled as Eiijiro put Denki in a headlock with his elbow. 

“Hey, did you guys know that Santa’s reindeer are actually all females? Because, you know, male reindeer actually shed their antlers and Santa’s are always depicted with their antlers.” Eiiji piped up, happy to share his knowledge.

“Wow, dude…that was uh, very thorough. Never would have pegged you for a biology major.” Denki snickered, along with Mineta who’d just strolled up.

“Don’t try to play my baby. He’s a biology and exercise science double major, so don’t do him.” You gave Eiijiro a peck on the lips, your gloss not even smearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Beefcake’s got brains and brawn, blah blah. Let’s get fucked up!” 

Denki and Mineta high-fived before disappearing into the crowd.

That’s when you heard the music start up: 

Unh, how you do that?

I’m trying to pursue that

“Oh shit, Eiiji, they’re playing our songs! You ready?!” 

Eiijiro’s grin grew wide across his face and he licked over his sharp canines. One had a ruby red gem implanted in it.

“Ready when you are, babe!”

The two of you strutted to the middle of the dance floor, the party-goers immediately parted the sea and made room for the both of you.

This was the norm for you and Eiijiro whenever you attended Greek parties: your dancing always made you both the center of attention.

Drop it down on a nigga, do damage

Booty moving left to right, it’s panoramic

You bent down in front of Eiiji and touched your toes before sliding your hands up your legs. He grabbed you by your ‘reigns’ and made your ass collide hard with his crotch.

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Thanks to you and Mina, he’d become a fantastic dancer. It probably also helps that you're on the dance team while Mina is a cheerleader.

That song hadn’t been playing long when the DJ suddenly switched it up:

All this money on me

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked naked

Like a red nose

Like like like like like a red nose

“Oh shit, babe; this one is my fav!” Eiiji hyped and you just laughed. You straightened your back and turned around to face him.

He grabbed your hips and you rested your hands on his forearms while moving your hips side to side with his.

The other patrons had cleared a space for the two of you in the middle of the floor.

All this money on me

Now come take it from a G

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

Eiiji then swiveled you back around and you pressed your ass back up against him. You rubbed it against him seductively then he used his thighs to bounce it from side to side. 

Once again, Eiijiro grabbed your reigns and lifted you up slightly to slam his hips into your ass before letting you drop back down.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

You twerked your ass from side to side while Eiiji held his arms at his sides then he dipped low and moved side to side with you.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

Eiiji patted your ass cheeks like a drum then grabbed your reigns and lifted his left leg up on the side of you with your ass pressed to his crotch.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

He continued holding onto them while the two of you yiked faster and faster. The crowd broke out into cheers and applause, even hollering out your names.

After hearing all of the commotion, Katsuki came out, dressed like a cross between Santa and a bodybuilder while Shoto, Shoji, and Hanta trailed after him in red and green elf outfits.

“Brothers!” Eiiji smiled toothily and went in to give Katsuki a bro hug. 

“The oldest and the coldest.” Shoto said in his monotone voice. Hanta snickered.

Katsuki rolled his vermillion eyes and shrugged Kirishima off of him.

"Okay, Rudolph, the Red-Haired Dipshit. Are you two almost done fucking on the dance floor so we can start the damn games?” Eiiji whined as Katsuki didn’t bother waiting for an answer and just walked away.

“Nice dancing!” Hanta gave him a grin and thumbs up before disappearing back through the crowd after Katsuki and the others.

“Come on Eiiji, let’s go show our faces and play stupid beer pong so we can ditch this and get some double-decker nachos.”

“Ooo, nachos! Come on, baby!” With a surprised squeal turned to giggle, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s muscular neck as he scooped you up bridal-style.

—-

After The Party

“Baby,  -hic- they're -hic- being mean to me again~” Eiiji whined into your plush thighs as you sat criss-cross applesauce on your dorm bed. 

You’d taken off your tight leather pants and now only had on your brown bodysuit. It was so cute how clingy and whiny your handsome boyfriend got when he was drunk. Your acrylic nails stroked his thick, spiked-up locks, making him hum into your lap then nip your thigh with his teeth. One of his big hands gripped the opposite thigh and smacked it.

He also got even more touchy-feely when he was shitfaced like this.

Denki and the others had to help carry him up to your room to keep him from making a complete idiot of himself and ending up getting them arrested for public intoxication.

"Aww, baby, what’s the matter? They wouldn’t let you join in their reindeer games?"

He shook his head sadly and hiccupped again, followed up by a loud belch.

“They said…baby, they said that my nose was too bright…and, and Katsuki said that I couldn’t guide his sleigh tonight!” He lamented, completely distraught. You had to bite down on the back of your hand to keep from laughing at him.

“Yeah baby, I’m pretty sure that Katsuki wouldn’t let you drive his truck in the condition that you’re in right now.” You patted his head.

“It’s not fair!”

With a gentle nudge, you removed his head from your thighs and cupped his cheeks. Leaning down to face him, you kissed both of his reddened cheeks.

Your soft, innocent actions had Eiijiro’s dick standing at full attention in about 2.5 seconds.

He suddenly sat up and grabbed your thighs again, tossing you up towards the headboard. The bounce of your body made him giggle as he hovered over you now.

“Ok, Rudolph, what are you planning?”

"I’m sorry, you just make me so horny, baby. These are horns, right?" He slurred drunkenly. The headband on his head flopped forward and then slid off, landing on your chest.

"Antlers, baby"

"Same thing, right?" He hiccupped again.

You chuckled with a shrug of your shoulders. Eiijiro didn’t seem perturbed though as he reached down to unbutton your bodysuit.

“Can I, baby? I want to make you moan,” He paused, fingers wobbling slightly, “like a wildebeest. Hey, what sound does a reindeer make?"

You were perplexed. "I-I don't know. It's like a moose, right?" 

He shrugged. “Well, whatever it sounds like, I’m about to make you sound like that.”

“Oh, Eiiji, I think you need some water and some Tylenol-” You were cut off as he’d now unsnapped all the buttons and was rubbing your clit through your panties.

"Mmm, baby, let's play some naughty reindeer games of our own, yeah?”

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

#i was jamming while writing this lol #like a red nose #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #bnha kirishima #mha kirishima #eiijirou kirishima x reader #bnha x black!reader #mha x black reader #mha x black female reader #kirishima x black reader #tw: intoxication #sincember #⋰❄︎gotta sin to win❄︎⋱ #happyhornydays #💗💗🍡°my fics #💗💗🍡°mha masterlist #byp 🌹holiday event #byp 🌹2023 events

[iris-polaris]

So you want to use tasty, tasty rocks and minerals in crystals in your correspondence magic.

Problem is, a lot of metaphysical sources don't cite their sources. Good folklore books, additionally, can be hard to find or acquire. Especially the ones that may give you a lead on ancient magical uses of various stones!

That's where science comes in. Good old GEOLOGY FACTS and LOGIC can show you where you can use stones in your spells when all else fails.

I already told you humans the difference between crystals and rocks and minerals and why it matters to spiritual folk. (We'll be using "stone" to cover all these categories in this post.)

Here's part 2: how to use science as correspondence inspiration. This will help you develop personal associations with the rocks as well.

When you have a stone, ask...

🔮 HOW'D THIS LITTLE TURD FORM?

How or where ye olde earth birthed your stone will give you hints as to its potential powers and associations. If you know the name of your stone, likely you can easily look it up on Google.

If it's a rock, for example, it might be...

Igneous. These rocks form when magma/lava cool. Good for fire magic, perhaps?

Sedimentary. These rocks form when layers of existing rock and other material glomp together. Decent for community magic, maybe?

Metamorphic. These rocks form when existing rocks change under pressure or intense heat. Great for transformation magic, perchance?

If you know where your stone was mined, think about that, too!

Of course, it may also be synthetic, or man-made. This is fine, because any object can have power, even if it's "unnatural." (You humans sure are obsessed with drawing a line between you and "nature.") But only you can decide if this will shape how you use it in spells.

🔮 THE HECK IS THIS STONE SHAPED LIKE?

This is one of the easiest aspects of your stone to figure out, since, like, it's right there.

For example, is your stone tumbled or carved? These are qualities you can use in any spell. A skull-shaped piece of quartz likely has a different vibe than a simpler tumbled round piece, y'know?

Orrrr...maybe your stone's natural? If so, what's its overall "habit" (general shape)? Prism-like? Plant-like? Needle-like?

🔮 HOW HARD IS THIS STONE?

Some stones are soft little boys and some are battle-hardened Warriors of the Big Tough. If you scratch the stone gently with your fingernail, does it leave a mark? How deep? Does powder come off of the stone?

Of course, sometimes a stone is too important to scratch like a poopy little kitty. In that case, most stones lie somewhere on the Mohs scale. If you know what kind of stone you have, you can likely Google its hardness on said scale.

All this, obviously, is just another property of the stone to note. If you're into correspondence magic, how might you use a very hard stone in a spell vs. a soft one?

🔮 WHAT'S THIS STONE'S COLOR?

Obviously, you'll want to take note of the stone's color and what connotations that brings up for you personally. One human's red isn't another human's red, as it so happens.

If the stone's synthetic, it's still fine to take note of its color. Angel aura quartz, for example, may not have come out of the ground all Rainbow Like That, but that doesn't mean it's any less Rainbow Like That.

Also take note of the stone's luster, or shininess. Like, is it shiny? And what kind of shiny? Is it metallic, glass-like, or more waxy? Think about the associations that might have when you use it in spellwork.

Finally, look at how transparent your stone happens to be. It may not be transparent at all. Or only a little. Or only in bits. Where might that quality come in useful for your spells?

🔮 HOW DO SCIENCE HUMANS GROUP THIS STONE?

There's a hundred thousand ways that scientists group various crystals and rocks and minerals depending on the various weird little traits they have. It's worthwhile to look those up and see what you find.

For example, minerals come in numerous flavors:

Oxides, which are combinations of metals and oxygen, like pretty much any ore,

Carbonates, which are a combination of oxygen, metals, and carbon, like malachite,

Silicates, which are a combo of oxygen and silica and include all quartzes ever,

...and many more.

How might these natural groupings affect your spellwork?

🔮 IN CONCLUSION

Use science where you don't have personal connections to a stone or are unsure a stone's traditional magical uses.

Uh. I don't give a rat's butt about actually concluding these things so just remember I also did a post on the difference between crystals and rocks and minerals and why that matters for a witch.

More later.

Blessings, cubs!

(Typed up by my wife Mate-chan. Thank you, baby.)

#crystal #crystals #witch #witchcraft #witches #witch community #witchblr #pagan #baby witch #new witch #metaphysical #magic #rock #rocks #mineral #minerals #crymstals

[glcive]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 ☆ they/them (i dont mind she/her) ☆ minor (xiv) ☆ bisexual ☆ cancer sun, libra moon, sag rising ☆ intp-t ☆ aus ☆ either a celestial god or a pebble ☆ anxious mess ☆ i change my theme way too much ☆ sparkling water > regular water ☆ in love with piercings and wants all of them ☆ professional procrastinator ☆ a humanities/arts/music girl in a science/maths world ☆ wouldnt survive a day without spotify ☆ free palestine!! ☆

͙͘͡★ 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - literature, the arts, queer culture, astronomy + astrology, witchcraft, feminism (no terfs allowed!!!!), fruit flavoured drinks, flared pants, converse, dark red, nail polish, eyeliner, burgundy lipgloss, tank tops, tote bags, brie (always dreaming of cheese), pinterest, spotify, my headphones, the ocean, my grandparents house, spring+winter, very specific shades of pink and green, black <3, fiddling around on the guitar, fantasising about being a famous musician, finding new music, snow, picking silly little outfits, drawing, writing, going to concerts

͙͘͡★ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 - osemanverse, the hunger games, books by rhiannon wilde, tim te maro's subterranean heartsick blues, all the best liars, books by octavia butler (specifically parable of the sower and parable of the talents), the last true poets of the sea, acotar, the weight of the stars, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian grey, house of hollow, howls moving castle, harry potter (mainly marauders, FUCK JKR), i kissed shara wheeler, red white and royal blue, song of achilles, wings of fire, the secret history, crime and punishment

͙͘͡★ 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 + 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 - dont look up, little women (2019), scream (i like most of them but 1996 is my fav by far), ladybird, barbie (2023), some of the mcu (thor and guardians of the galaxy <33), spiderverse (itsv is my love), gilmore girls, stranger things, loki, heartstopper, arcane, scott pilgrim takes off + scott pilgrim vs the world, mean girls (i love both hehe), dr who, percy jackson (the show, i um havent read the books), gossip girls, do revenge, my little pony, the bear, hannibal

͙͘͡★ 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 - boygenius + solos, taylor swift, glaive, brakence, paramore, ricky jamaraz, melanie martinez, lana del rey, ashnikko, girl in red, billie eilish, doja cat, big thief, adrianne lenker, ethel cain, mitski, remi wolf, cigarettes after sex, ericdoa, tv girl, clairo, the neighbourhood, bon iver, deftones, maneskin, courtney barnett, poppy, the smiths, american football, susannah joffe, renee rapp, mcr, the front bottoms, pierce the veil, gracie abrams, feeble little horse, esha tewari, radiohead

͙͘͡★ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐬 - the record, 1989 tv, around the fur, riot, three cheers for sweet revenge, all we know is falling, hypochondriac, girl with fish, doa, things with wings, punk2, songs, masterpiece, guts, lust for life, dykttatuob, punisher, stranger in the alps, i care so much that i dont care at all, collide with the sky, manic, badlands, folklore, trafoamp, k-12, crybaby, portals, this is why, ttpd + the anthology, hit me hard and soft, the bends

͙͘͡★ 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 - asks and dms are open for chatting/venting/whatever, i might take a while to respond ☆ i rarely follow people without an intro post/descriptive bio (with name, age group and pronouns especially) ☆ discord is astraeasparrow ☆ i dont currently have any trigger warnings tagged but just send me an ask/dm if you want me to tag something specific!! ☆ dni: people who are: rude, racist, homophobic, transphobic, zionist, terfs, sexist, ableist, antisemitic

͙͘͡★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

#juno.txt -> ramblings, original posts

#asks -> asks ive answered

#ask bait -> send me asks!

#tag games -> tag games ive participated in

#beautiful mutuals -> interactions with my beautiful mutuals!

#spotify -> my music obsession

#junocore -> posts that are so incredibly mecore

(im working on a better taglist with my moots tags)

͙͘͡★ 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬: pinterest ☆ spotify ☆ carrd ☆ pronoun page

͙͘͡★ 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬: @likeasugarcubeinateacup (notes app poetry) -- @slowrotburiedinthepark (web weaving and random art) -- @stabbingstarsthroughmyback (writing) (im not that active on them though)

͙͘͡★ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬/𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬:

☆ previously astraeasparrow and gu1lty-as-sin

☆ last updated: june 1st 2024

☆ dividers by @dollywons, @v6que, @plutism

thats all!! stay hydrated and have a wonderful day/night everyone <3

#juno.txt #asks #beautiful mutuals #them tag <33 #tag game #ask bait #tag games #spotify #intro post #<- you can check out my crusty old intro post there #pinned post #junocore

[paper-gold-theories]

Hey! How do you think Goldheart's relationship to Dr Slug would be? Like, Dr Slug will be "dominant"? And Goldheart a shy boy? I've always thought about this dynamic of original Goldheart and Dr Slug from Heroic AU, but I've never seen anyone talk about it.

Hi anon,

(For me personally, I prefer to call the HeroicAU Flug Dr.Slys rather than Dr.Slug as it sounds like he is an insectologist. Also because Alan mentioned that Flug asks people to call him Dr. Flug because people can't pronounce Flugslys, so the HeroicAU my headcanon is that Flug's name is still Flugslys, but similarly people can't pronounce that so he goes by the name Dr. Slys, basically the word sly with an s, because it sounds more menacing to strike fear in the hearts of criminals.

For GoldHeart, I called him DarkHeart because in Villainous, there is a popular saying in P.E.A.C.E which is "Gold be in your heart", so in the HeroicAU, there is a popular saying amongst D.O.O.M., the HeroicAU version of P.E.A.C.E., which is "Darkness be in your heart")

____

In Villainous I always see GoldHeart and Flug's dynamic as a Popular Jock Superman vs Nerdy Lex Luther.

In the HeroicAU, my headcanon of DarkHeart and Dr. Slys dynamic is like a Joker with superpowers and a Batman that kills.

(I kinda imagine DarkHeart to do the Mark Hamill Joker laugh)

----

In the HeroicAU, Dr.Slys is a hero that strikes fear into the hearts of Villains criminals just from intimidating aura, the only exception is DarkHeart who is not affected by him and enjoys his company.

DarkHeart is the strongest, most feared, dangerous, and the most insane supervillain with his own supervillain league called "The Dark Side". His goal is to end all good forever and Dr.Slys is the one to stop him.

----

Dr. Slys is a planner who thinks two steps ahead of people, but finds it hard to predict DarkHeart's insanity makes him unpredictable and comes up with plans that are equally insane and unpredictable. (Like hitting someone with a bag of rocks out of nowhere and dancing the macarena to distract people)

Dr. Slys is someone who similar to Flug is a planner, but unlike Flug he is more destructive and chaotic, like he enjoys crashing his plane into things causes a lot of property damage when saving people. Hence, because of this he is not popular amongst the public despite his success of being a hero. (I kinda imagine like this scene from Lego Batman)

But he does have loyal fans and supporters who appreciate him.

DarkHeart would often try to convince him that its more fun to be the Villain rather than a hero and no one would care how much property damage is caused and will in fact encourage it, and genuinely believes that Slys is more suited to be on the Villain because of his sadistic and violent nature. But Dr. Slys always rejects DarkHeart saying that he won't "go over to the dark side".

----

After Dr. Slys joins WhiteHat Organization, WhiteHat would try to help Dr. Slys improve as a hero and wants Dr.Slys to be less sadistic and violent while Dr. Slys would just see it as a job.

He also finds WhiteHat's methods for justice to be soft and also questionable because it can't be explained by science, but somehow manages to work and also because of these methods WhiteHat is able to become the no.1 and best hero.

This is why, despite there disagreement Dr.Slys has a lot of respect for WhiteHat and willing to agree and compromise to some rules such as not to kill Villains unless necessary.

Eventually Dr.Slys slowly and gradually improve as a hero, becoming a more empathetic and less-destructive after he joined the company and befriending Clemencia, 6.6.6., and WhiteHat and eventually come to like WhiteHat because he is genuinely a nice guy. But he is somewhat violent and secretly does things like build torture devices and death rays.

DarkHeart doesn't like that, thinking that after joining WhiteHat Organization and "family life" with Dr. Slys soft. And DarkHeart would often stir the pot with with Dr. Slys disagreements with WhiteHat and try to convince Dr. Slys to join him so that they can take down WhiteHat but Dr.Slys would refuse.

(I imagine DarkHeart convincing Dr.Slys to join him, its like "Say My Name" from Beetlejuice and if DarkHeart succeeds and he and Dr.Slys hangs out its like "That Beautiful Sound", also from Beetlejuice)

----

DarkHeart as mentioned absolutely batshit crazy and would randomly pop up at radom places at random times just to fight Dr. Slys. His intention was to sneak up on Dr. Slys, scare the shit out of him, or just fuck with him for his own amusement.

(source)

Like coming out of trash cans and man-hole covers. Or just dressing up as random people on the street. (I kinda imagine for them to have a Majima and Kiryu dynamic for this case)

____

Shipping Stuff

DarkHeart is the only Villain in existence that can scare Dr. Slys.

Dr.Slys can handle DarkHeart's crazy antics and persistence for him to join the dark side.

But freaks Dr.Slys the fuck out DarkHeart actually enjoying being tortured by him.

Dr.Slys tortures Villains to get information or to scare them off for doing crime, ect. but no matter what he does to DarkHeart, he just seems to want more and absolutely loves it.

Which no Villain has never reacted this way and this just scares him and makes him want to run for the hills, (which is ironic for a Villain that strikes fear into other criminals)

Something like this scene:

DarkHeart, after being dipped in acid: Whoa that was great, can we go at it again? :D

Dr.Slys: YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO ENJOY IT, YOU NUT!!

DarkHeart: You seem tense Slys. Looks like someone needs a hug. ~ 🖤

Dr.Slys: GAH!! Get away from me you're covered in acid!!

Dr.Slys: If you don't tell me what I want, I'm going to sew your your mouth to a butt like they do in human centipede.

DarkHeart: Only if it's your butt I'm being sewed to. ;D

Dr.Slys: YOU'RE INSANE!!

DarkHeart: So are you, that's why we are meant to be together. ;) 🖤

Dr.Slys, runs away: GAH!!

DarkHeart, going after Slys: Where are you going Slys? I thought you wanted something from me.🖤 ~

-----

(How they feel about each other)

Despite DarkHeart's craziness and his ability to be ultra sadistic and machoistic at the same time, and their different opinions on good and evil, Dr.Slys, does enjoy DarkHeart's company because he is someone who can truly relate to him and slowly his antics does grow on him and at times wishes they weren't on the other side.

While Slys thinks DarkHeart is just horny for being tortured by him.

Meanwhile, DarkHeart loves Dr.Slys because is someone who could truly relate to him, challenge, exits him and believes they can (literally) rule the world together and are ment to be together. And also because he is horny for being tortured by Slys.

#heroic au #villainous #villanos #villainous au #goldheart #gold heart #herbert leth #villainous headcanons #dr kenning flugslys #dr flug #flug #incorrect quotes #villainous incorrect quotes #black hat #villainous demencia #5.0.5 villainous #villainous 505 #dr flug and goldheart are not brothers

[thephilosophersapprentice]

Having now read The Final Empire, I'm really impressed with it. It holds together really well as a whole and unlike some other books I've read I don't recall any parts that seemed particularly weaker than the others. It's a hefty book but it has the same quality throughout, and then when the climax hits... it's like a season-long final battle with twists and turns that keep you engaged through the whole thing.

At least the last 3 hours of the 24-hour audiobook were all final battle. Naturally that's not possible for an 8-hour audiobook (a lot of YA is I think around 8-12 hours in audiobook form, though I could be wrong), but holy moly. I think a reason the audiobook is that long is partly because Sanderson's style is dense. There's a lot of character in the writing and I appreciate that a lot. One of Sanderson's strengths, in my opinion, is that he has a talent for showing you what the viewpoint character sees and only that, leaving the reader to guess and work out what's going on in their heads along with the character. It's an excellent use of limited point of view that keeps the story moving forward and the uncertainty works well to keep the reader engaged.

Also it has a fantastic magic system. I know Brandon Sanderson basically (as far as I know) created the theory of hard vs. soft magic systems but this is a masterclass in balance; what allomancy can do, particularly physically, is limited but can be leveraged in dozens of ways, which helps maintain the sense of awe and wonder. I am a huge fan of magic systems with hard limits, but this has to be one of my favorite solidly fleshed-out systems, up there with bending in Avatar: The Last Airbender and alchemy in Fullmetal Alchemist. It also has one of the best introductions to a magic system; it introduces the hard limits first, makes the magic finite and dependent on a specific source, which can run out... and then later on you find out that there's more complexity to it. In my opinion, that's one of the best ways to do it; first show the core functions and tenets, and then gradually introduce the ways that the assumptions surrounding that system are wrong, or technically correct yet misleading... much like advanced science courses.

#mistborn #cosmere #brandon sanderson #the final empire #erin reads mistborn

[moghedien]

I've seen you say a few times that a lot of modern magic systems aren't really magic and are basically science or math (or sci-fi), and specifically mention Brandon Sanderson's systems. Maybe it's just because I'm not very familiar with his work (I've only read mistborn era 1 and the first 3 books of the stormlight archive) but it seems to me his magic systems are god-given, explained to death, video-gamey magic with basically an energy bar, and I don't really understand how that'd be science, math or sci-fi. Would you mind explaining that to me? (I also don't really understand the whole hard magic vs soft magic thing. E.g., to me classic spells and wot weaving seem functionally the same yet the former is generally considered soft and the latter hard)

Describing it as video gamey is actually exactly it, because video games and even table top games that use magic are basically the same thing, because they have to be. They have very specific rules that are always going to the constant. Once you know the rules, you can minmax and manipulate scenarios around those rules, but the rules are still very much in place and very constant.

Video games are like that because they have to be, they’re programs. Table top games are like that also because they have to be to be useable for a general audience, but a GM can in theory decide to throw out said rules and decide something else happens based on vibes. That’s the simplest example I can give on the difference between hard and soft magic. Magic that follows rules is hard magic. Magic that follows vibes is soft magic.

When it comes to Sanderson, I call his magic systems math because they’re so intentionally formulaic. Doing X thing will always cause Y action. You may be able to manipulate situations around that formula in unexpected way. You may be able to throw in unexpected variables or you may unexpectedly encounter something you didn’t account for that throws off the expected outcome, but the formula is always going to be the same. No matter how many times you do it. No matter who is doing it (as long as they have the basic ability to use the magic), x+y will always equal z

The reason why I say that isn’t magic is because it’s extremely orderly and predictable. If you look at like, most magical representations in antiquity, it’s very much a chaotic force. You can try to harness it and do things with it, but you can’t control chaos and you’ll probably end up with some unexpected outcomes even if you’re skilled and careful. Also it’s largely used in like stories just to like, deliver some moral or cause some problem so it’s literally just a tool to add chaos that can’t otherwise be accounted for.

People can write “hard” magic all they want and I like Cosmere and all, but Branderson specifically as well as a lot of other fantasy writers have a problem with thinking that any magic that isn’t clearly defined for readers is bad. Branderson specifically seems to think that it’s poor writing and a mistake on the writers part if they somehow forgot to come up with never changing magic rules for the readers to obsess over.

If that’s the case though then the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit were the worst fantasy books every written because Tolkien is like THE best example of soft magic in fantasy. No one knows what the fuck the rules of magic are in those books, but somehow it still isn’t bad writing when Gandalf comes back from the dead or dropping a ring in some lava kills Satan. Like even when we get explanations it’s just like “accept this is the case for this one situation but apply it to nothing else.” A more recent example of soft magic is in the Poppy War, which is a book I would love to hear Branderson or his fans try to say is poorly written because of the magic

Wheel of Time has a sort of combination of hard and soft magic though, which is where a lot of the criticism toward Branderson came up because he seems to ignore this when discussing the books/show. Weaves and channeling and such are on the harder side and have rules that do largely remain constant (except when they don’t), but then there’s things like Tel’aran’rhiod and the Ogier and ter’angreal in general and the horn of Valere and the heroes attached to it and taveren where it’s just largely like “yeah this is how it is don’t worry about it”

Anyway, all this to say I really do actually hate the terms hard and soft magic but they’re the most useful terms we have

[samuelroukin]

Okay fuck it, team Roach, the 006 to the 141's 007, is roughly:

Roach: Captain Sanderson. Very soft spoken, stuck with extreme baby face despite being a hardened combat vet, tremendously calm, rational and easy going even when being shot at. Very reasonable and inhuman levels of stealthy. Never raises his voice, which is often Worse. He's not really sure how he got here but he is unfortunately Very Good at This. Which is both leadership and Warfare. In his heart of hearts he just wants to be chilling on a pool floatie with a beer in hand but Alas.

His Second in Command: Handsome, Polite, Charming and Clinically Insane. As in they are 100% fudging this man's psych evals. He seems easy going and fun but this man is basically a monster, he is the type that signed up to kill people and not go to jail. Graves but Worse. He's only technically a Hero because Roach is holding his leash but. Seriously he seems fine until you're alone in an enclosed space with him and your lizard brain sends up a panic alarm akin to being trapped in an elevator with a lion. The more he talks the more you realize he... doesn't live in the real world. For Reasons Unknown Roach is pretty much the only one that does actually have a collar on him. He Gets Real Weird and Jealous over Ghost when they finally meet.

Tex: Your Killing Machine Has Anxiety. Possibly the world's best sniper and a true mathematical genius, who has next to no social skills, the legacy of a childhood stutter and growing up in a Very Rural Isolated area. Excellent at taking directions but it's hard to not pin a kick me sign on him despite him being, objectively, a very dangerous guy. A lot of people assume he's Like That because of warfare/soldiers get strange/ptsd etc. No he was always Weird, he is definitely Undiagnosed Neurodivergent, but so is his whole family. A Cheetah in search of a Dog in his Pen. Hypercompetent in the field, who let you out of your cage otherwise.

Doc: World's Bitterest Medic. Loves humanity as a concept and truly believes in medicine as a science dedicated to the betterment of life and wellbeing. Also Hates Every Single Human Being he has ever come across. Extreme Pissed of Mom Who Says Get Your Ass Down Here Now Or I Will Beat You to Death Myself energy. Means he generally keeps them in line socially as well as the Angry Mom Friend so Tex generally hides behind him. He grumbles but he secretly kind of loves it. Unfortunately, these Idiots are *his* idiots. You are Stupid and Embarassing and he Will Run Out Under Heavy Fire to Save You at the risk of his own life. Running in joke is "does the life threatening wound hurt enough to subject yourself to his bedside manner?" Absolutely terrible taste in music he subjects them all to.

There are at least one or two more guys in this train wreck but these are the mains. Unsurprisingly something this disfunction works out horribly well and they are incredibly effective. Tired Dad Energy Roach vs You Should Have Gone Before We Left Mom Medic plus Their Frail Victorian Son of a Sniper plus I Will Kill For You Please Ask Me To Kill For You and Give Me Attention 2IC means this shit is actually A OK by the brass.

lmao didn't you just say you put no thought into them? these guys are far more developed than my ocs, give yourself some credit! they all sound great and like i said i already love tex and doc but uh HI second in command 👀

#meduseld #asks

[astrolovecosmos]

~Pisces Season~

Pisces is usually depicted as the overly sensitive artist or the sweet romantic that may be easily used or always falls into the role of the victim. They are connected to appealing buzzwords such as spirituality, mysticism, and sacrifice. And while these are all part of the Pisces archetype, it can actually make it hard to fit into this specific lens of soft, kind, and magical. Below are 3 traits I believe are core to the Pisces character.

Receptive: Pisces is famous for their intuition, this sign may seem like a psychic. They are also associated with being impressionable and gullible. They tend to give others the benefit of the doubt or has a general idealistic view on others. They are highly adaptable and perceptive. They are the chameleon, fast-moving or the most fluid form of water, and they tend to be compassionate and/or has an aptitude for empathy. But this sensitivity and openness should not be seen as only ever soft or weak. Rivers, floods, water is powerful and dangerous. Whether you are talking about a dreamy, otherworldly Pisces or your everyday laidback Pisces, receptiveness is a skill or resource for them even if it can make things feel heavy or messy.

Elusive: Pisces is well known for being associated with escapism and for having a good disappearing act. Pisces is known to be vague whether it is in communication, personality, or intentions. While Pisces can be genuine and honest, depending on what placement Pisces is influencing there usually is a sense of flux or flow to it. It should be noted Pisces is also the sign of illusion and fantasy. They tend to have high hopes and may fall for the image of someone or something than the reality of it. At the root of their elusiveness is the ability to be fluid and changing, which gives someone endless room for development, growth, falling, and rising. In this post I mentioned Pisces's keywords actually being a hard character to fit into. There are Pisces in the science field, medical field, as salespeople, as athletes. Pisces can have moments of bravery and toughness, while they tend to fall into the impractical realm - their ability to change, adapt, and to move gives them strength and an advantage. While Pisces may sometimes sound limited, being depicted as a far-off, glittering mermaid, it is in their vagueness and flexibility they can be many things.

Compassionate: Due to their sensitivity and caring they tend to fall for sob stories and is easily tugged at or pressured to help others. A Pisces could be a people pleaser, but what is more likely is that they easily lose themselves in others. Pisces is the sign of oneness and unity. They are the sign with no boundaries and who seeks extreme and/or immediate intimacy. There can be negatives to this such as being easily manipulated or used. It can also allow them to easily manipulate others. They can lose themselves, lose track of their own goals, and find it hard to get in touch with their own wants and needs. It can be hard to find the line between being kind and helpful vs. self-preservation. Even though Pisces is known for being self-sacrificing, soothing, healing, and compassionate, everyone can have a dark side and a selfish side. A more selfish Pisces may hide behind the guise of selflessness, victimhood, or the savior. One thing Pisces and those in Pisces lives should remember is compassion does not always = niceness or politeness.

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