#stolen destiny

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (III)

summary: your limits are pushed until something snaps

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

Feyd-Rautha is in your dreams again. Black teeth, barking laugh. But it’s not the same. Eyes alight with something you don’t understand. Dress heavy and clinging. Nails dragging down your wet skin. Dagger in your hand pressing against his throat. Poisoned words on his lips. “You wear blood well, my darling.” His image fades as hands cup your cheeks.

The day that follows is endless. Finalizing preparations for the coming days of events. Fielding requests from the minor houses for a moment of your time. A meeting over concerns of recent tectonic activity that your absent father is supposed to attend. Two more run throughs of the dance. The swordmaster demands two more after dinner.

Irulan is entangled in conversation with Duke Leto throughout the meal. Nauseously you wonder when an engagement will be announced. It was the destiny the Atreides had stolen. Paul would be Emperor and you would be nothing but a disappointment. Your father toasts to how proud he is of the woman you’ve grown into. There’s no truth in it. You can only blink at the lemon tart that’s served for dessert as he promises he’s prepared a fun few days ahead. 

When the meal is over you do not seek Fandral. You do the opposite and duck out of his sight at the first opportunity. He knows you’re supposed to return to the Small Hall and practice again. As comforting as his presence has been, you don’t want comfort or encouragement or protection. You want to stab something. Repeatedly.

The training yard is empty. The weapons are locked away, but you have the dagger Feyd-Rautha had gifted. You’d carried it with you throughout the day. Tucked away into the deep pockets of the borrowed gowns. You aren’t sure why today you felt the need to have it and not any other. Maybe you knew you’d need it. Or maybe you made the need for it because you had it. Either way, it serves your purpose.

The mannequin takes the blade with little resistance. It was natural in your hand. No matter how much or little pressure you use, it doesn’t slip and slice your palm like others do. A well made dagger.

You flick on the mannequin’s shield to test how well it handles the added strain.

“I am glad to see you enjoying my gift.”

There’s little resistance as you sink it into the stomach of the mannequin. “I am sick of pleasantries and pandering, na-Baron. Leave me be.”

Feyd-Rautha is predictable. You knew he would follow. You know he’ll take the chance to attack.

There’s the slightest whoosh of air that warns you. You evade the blade in his hands by millimeters, dodging to the right. You push the mannequin towards him. It knocks into him, unbalancing him for a moment long enough to twist your own shield on. His black grin is wide again as he recovers and stands tall. The dagger he carries isn’t much different from his gifted one. The handle thicker and longer, a few teeth in the blade, but from what you can glimpse it’s clear they had been made by the same hands. 

He lunges, expecting your evasion and slices at where your throat goes. He’s too fast and it bounces off. You counter with a jab to his arm, slow enough that it strains his shield. He doesn’t give it the time to penetrate as his blade comes back again.

The dance continues. Both of you manage to knick the other occasionally. You feel blood seeping from a slash across your chest and more from one along your back. He has two along his arms and one on his hip. You’ve held well, but he is taller and stronger and you feel yourself begin to falter.

“Growing tired, my lady?” he teases as you barely dodge another attack. 

“As would you under the weight of this dress.”

“I have no objection to you removing it.” He’s quick even after the extended duel. He strikes, and in your attempt to get away, he catches your hand and turns your shield off. The humming of his shield silences as you're pulled and turned until your back meets his chest. His blade is against your neck with a familiar chill and fingers digging into your hip. “Though it may tempt me into distraction.”

An unfamiliar fire blooms with the confession. “Careful what you share, na-Baron. I might use that sort of information against you one day.” Something twitches against your lower back.

“Let her go.”

The hand gripping your hip, the blade at your throat, and the warmth on your back are gone in an instant. You’ve never heard The Voice before, but it’s unmistakable. It’s not even directed at you, but your mind blurs and your body is pliant, as if waiting for its own command to follow. Fandral’s face blocks your view. He’s questioning if you’re alright, if you feel faint or dizzy. You can’t answer. It’s as if you're treading through the water again. 

You’re turned and pulled again, but now you’re separated from Feyd-Rautha by your guard and Paul Atreides. The heirs point their blades at each other. Paul accuses him of taking and hurting you. As if you were some helpless damsel.

“Stop,” you say. It’s too quiet, your mouth numb. Fandral shushes you and tries to lead you away. You try again, louder, “Stop!”

Neither heir moves.

“I asked him to spar.” It’s only a half lie. Paul’s tense pose eases as he finally breaks his gaze off Feyd-Rautha. “I wasn’t taken. He didn’t hurt me.” Paul's eyes dip to your chest. “Not anymore than I did him, anyways.”

Fandral questions, “In an evening dress? Alone?”

“It is when she is most vulnerable.” Feyd-Rautha has lost his smile. “Given her security leaves much to be desired at the best of times.”

You can feel the loathing radiating from Fandral. But there is no denial.

You nod at your former opponent “Thank you for your time, na-Baron. It was very enlightening.”

“It was a pleasure, my lady. You fight like a Harkoneen.”

The fire he lit burns brightly on your cheeks.

“What was the point in asking for a personal guard?” Fandral huffs when you’ve returned to the palace. His jacket is around your shoulders to cover the slice in the back of your dress. He’d wanted you to see the doctor, worried again about poison, but you refused. “If you wanted to train, you should have asked me.”

“Or me,” Paul says on your other side. “He could have hurt you.” He doesn’t recognize the condescension of his concern.

“That was the point.” You have to stop yourself from touching the wound on your chest. “How am I supposed to know training has been effective if I’ve never faced real consequences?”

Fandral scolds, “If you stay with your guard, you’ll never be in a situation where you have to find out if it’s effective.” He shakes his head, pushing the door to the Small Hall open. It was the compromise he relented to. No doctor visit if you came here. 

“You’re late,” the swordmaster calls out from where he stands in the middle of the room with a guard you recognize as one the Atreides’. His eyes travel across your mussed form. “I hope the other person looks worse than you.” 

“He doesn’t.” 

You glare at Fandral as the swordmaster decides that is a personal offense against his training and decides that practice will be doubled for it. It’s only as you look for the woman who always carries your swords that you realize she’s not there. None of the others are. But Paul still is.

“I shall see you tomorrow?” You hope he understands it’s a dismissal.

The question amuses him. “I intended to practice with you tonight.”

“With me?”

He smiles as if you’re missing something obvious.

The dance isn’t silly anymore. Fandral had been right. It does tell a story. One of submission. 

There are no troubadours, only the sole Atrides guard who plucks at the strings of a Baliset. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips.

Even without the additional instruments you recognize the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They shriek in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin until the music nearly dies.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool. Fandral claps to the beat the drums usually play as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

Paul stands there now, sword pulled free. He brings it in front of him as he drops into a defensive stance. The Baliset begins again now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until he flicks the sword out of your hand. You take the hand he offers and spin into him as the music reaches a subdued crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the eyes of the person who has taken everything from you until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

Three more times you are subjected to the humiliation. It will be once more tomorrow.

When Paul and his guard are gone, jolly at the surprise they’d sprung on you, you round on the swordmaster. He answers your unspoken question. “Your father did not want you to know until the last possible moment.”

“Perhaps you should wait until morning,” Fandral attempts to persuade you as he shadows you down the empty corridors. “Or at least remove your swords?” You don’t bother with a response. 

The guards stationed outside his door attempt to stop you, but you’re quick to dip under their arms and push into the room. You're unsurprised to find a courtesan in his bed. There’s a scandalized shout from her and curses from him as they scramble to cover themselves.

“Get out,” you tell her. 

Your father objects, but she is quick to comply. She pulls her dress from the floor and slips into it with practiced ease. She’s gone within a minute. The door closes behind her.

“You’ve gotten bold,” he growls.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

With a huff he says, “Because you wouldn’t have done it if you did. I told the Atridies you’d be too shy to do it if you knew and the boy thought it was enduring.”

“Why have me dance with him at all?”

He shrugs. “It was their suggestion.”

You stare at him. He’s pathetic. “You were wrong,” you tell him, bile on your tongue. “I would have done it if you asked. I would’ve done anything for you.” You leave before he sees the tears slide down your cheeks.

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t have a chance to visit you that night. Sleep never comes. Anger too potent to allow any rest.

When morning comes the maids work on making you presentable. There’s comments on the bags under your eyes and the new scar across your chest. You let them cover the former, but insist on keeping the latter. “Your father won’t like it,” one cautions. You're not inclined to care what he likes anymore. It’s something they soon realize.

They’re hesitant to style your hair in the way you instruct, but relent. Then the dress they offer, another of his choosing, is refused. You see their realization when you tell them what you’ll wear instead. Their efforts to sway you are in vain as you threaten to leave the room as bare as the day you were born.

Fandral stops in the doorway after the maids leave. “You look…”

You're still standing in front of the mirror. The dress is lilac, frilly and feminine in a way you’ve never been allowed. Your hair is braided, save for the pieces that frame your face. You look soft. Delicate. Like a painting that had been tucked away when you asked too many questions.

“Like my mother.” 

There’s only one thing missing. The rogue lies abandoned on the vanity. It’s vivid enough that a single dab of the brush colors both your cheeks.

your thoughts & reblogs are appreciated!

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#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #dune part two #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #stolen destiny

[chloeworships]

This person could have stolen not just your valuables (such as a car or jewelry) but they could tampered with your destiny.

This person, I’m sorry to say, but all I keep hearing is “THIS PERSON IS A FRAUD”.

This person showboats all the time and behind the scenes they really don’t have much. Nothing worthy like good friends, good health, real love, clean money. 💰

When I checked out Kai’s IG I almost fainted 🔑 I saw him holding a MASSIVE key. The bridge that collapsed is called the Francis Scott Key Bridge

👀

Recall the LORD had said one of the “keys” to wealth is GRATITUDE 🙏🏾 not envy, not jealousy and not demons.

Now remember Genesis 31, where Laban CAUGHT UP to Jacob. Rachel had stolen her Father Laban’s god’s. Jacob also tricked Esau and STOLE his birthright. Laban had deceived Jacob about his daughters and the sheep. So what does this story tell us?????

What you do to others will catch up to YOU… eventually. We reap what we sow. So sow good seeds brothers and sisters!!!

Laban had the audacity to be upset with Jacob yet for 20 years he had tried to deceive him. This is your confirmation of how long this person has been having you feeling aggrieved.

Read the scrips for yourself. I can’t make this stuff up.

How could I forget the household word and the mention of Rachel lying about being on her period which is what Amit did to stop herself from being raped.

This is confirmation.

#fraud #charlatan #fake #phony #stolen cars #stolen jewelry #STOLEN MAKE UP #stolen destiny #RENTALS #property #LONGSTANDING FOE #destiny robbers

[corvidshadow]

Watch out destiny artists

eyesupguardianz is shamelessly reposting other people's art and not giving credit

#destiny 2 #yes main tag so ppl are aware and not share the reposter's stolen posts #i will remove this once the user either deletes the posts or at the bare minimum credits the artists

[zappadoodlecat]

Nezarec before he went through the dehydrator. stole handfeets from Aeon Flux. not entirely content with the design but just wanted to get it out of my system.

#destiny #destiny fanart #destiny 2 #fanart #nezarec #voted mostly likely to have had their mummified dick stolen in 2k22 #destiny the game

[blakistan]

I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT THE EXOTIC CLASS ITEMS AND I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THAT I PREDICTED THIS YEARS AGO

#like almost to a T the only difference was I imagined they'd have one “stolen” perk and the main perk would let you still use another exotic #also I would never have expected they'd be completely independent of your class??? #like the really just said fuck it you can be OP now and I am HERE FOR IT #destiny 2

[goldiipond]

maybe this is me having too much faith in the people calling for the extermination of an entire ethnic group but idk. i feel like the fact that israel has the most powerful settler colony on the fucking planet bending over backwards to defend them from literally every other country should be enough to make at least some zionists realize that they are not the good guys

#skye's ramblings #i dont know man im just. so tired. im so fucking angry all the time. i want this to end #i dont understand how people dont see that this is literally just textbook colonialism. and how some do know and simply dont care #i dont have enough contact with the native side of my family to feel justified saying 'as a native person-' #and i certainly dont want to speak over palestinians but fuck man. this just cuts so deep. white people have been doing this for centuries #they dont care about the lives the history the rich beautiful culture they dont fucking care about anything that lacks 'pure western values #they dont fucking care all they fucking do is destroy and steal because everything belongs to them in their eyes #israel is an illegitimate state composed of europeans living on stolen land that they say is theirs bc they're 'gods chosen people' #the 'savages' are now 'terrorists' but the sentiment remains that they are a stain that must be erased to make way fr the good white people #your philosophy is a poorly disguised recreation of manifest destiny that uses judaism as a shield #as if your religion has any relevancy to the fact that people fucking hate you for gleefully slaughtering families and stealing their homes #i dont know. i grieve the lack of connection to that side of my culture and these people are having theirs ripped away from them as i speak #i dont know how people can support this. i dont know. i feel sick.

[trollbreak]

FOURTH time is the charm lol

[“An ex-goddess, hm? Is that why you’re wasting your time drinking cheap vodka in a locker room, when you know it’s not going to do much? Or are you hoping for the blood loss to carry your weight, here?”

The woman bares her flat teeth at them, and Pyrric tilts their head. It’s hard to find someone intimidating when she lies in pieces before you. Harder still when you know that neither of you can do too much damage to the other in any reasonable amount of time.

“Is it the reason you’re getting yourself killed weekly, because the crowds pay better at the end of the week? Or maybe it’s the reason you’re baring your teeth like they could actually do anything that matters. Please, talk down to me some more while you’re still halved. I’d like to see how much you can try to puff up like this.”

The woman rolls her eyes and grabs her pants by the belt loops to pull her torso closer together, and the flow of blood only slows a little. Pyrric is almost certain those pants are going to be ruined. A shame- that orange would make for a lovely dress color, if Dari would consider dying her own clothes. But she’s made it clear enough that she’s not looking to make friends. Another shame.

“…Are you the yellow who’s fuckin’ the freak? Keeps killing you for the shits and giggles? ‘Cause gee, what a high fuckin’ horse you’re on, bleeding for some rich someone or other… gods. Leave it to the bug people to make the weird ones.”

Pyrric leans down, turning her head to be eye to eye with Dari.

“Is that my reputation now? I’d have hoped it was something kinder… but if that is the case, I’ll not have you ruin Daemia’s for it. She’s divine, in a way you’re never going to know. Not anymore. You did say you used to be a god, yes? Who do you pray to, when you die? At least the things that made me were kind enough to take my scars, to dull my p-“

They have more to say, but Dari spits at them, and they’re sputtering, staggering to catch their balance. Whatever landed in their eye doesn’t burn, per se, but they don’t want to leave it there. They might have to ask Daemia to help them with that, at the end of the night.

They’re already going to need some time with her to feel at home in their own form again… they hate when someone gets under their skin like this. Anger doesn’t suit them.

“Fuck off. You said you wanted to make friends, yeah? A fat fuckin’ success that was- do me a favor and get the fuck out. Bet I can get Junie to get you banned, if you wanna push your fuckin’ luck.”

Pyrric doesn’t know why they had expected anything less abrasive… Dari has a reputation of trying to get on people’s nerves. But at least this wasn’t a wasted trip, they have some information that a few friends will be more than happy to have, in case the empire ever reaches her home.

They stand back up with a deep breath, smoothing out their skirt and adjusting their hair around their shoulders.

“Fine. Have fun stewing in your misery, Dari… and if you want to try to find a way to cope better, I’m sure Junie can get us back in touch.”

Another breath, and they put their smile back on. It’s so much easier to be cute than to be angry… they’d like to lean into it until it feels right again.

“And have a lovely rest of your night!”]

#writing #dari #Pyrric #ummm info that didn’t get included bc I ran out of steam before I really got well started on this one: Dari’s name ‘etched in stone’ #is Daarel Mournglaive (Blade of Sorrows) and she’s damn annoyed she didn’t get a chance to figure out what the FUCK that title was supposed #to mean. she’s like damn we went on this trek to an all knowing rock lady and my destiny just got stolen? the fuck. #she’s from il’jur which means so little to anyone but me :P #she WOULD have been a goddess of violence. the little violences. personal fights and murder and such. but um. she didn’t get to reach her #potential :P #ALSO!! #Pyrric buds with yerren and Wynric. sometimes dying is a good way to learn some stuff :3

[teekays]

me about jack hughes ^^^

#he was made to lez out on camera. they have stolen his destiny from him #teddyposting

[oswinsdolma]

happy valentines to the deleted scene in arthur's bane when merlin and arthur argue about which side of the "bed" they sleep on.

#not to be overly emotional about this #but doesn't that just encapsulate the tone of s5 in one moment? #in a meta way i mean #they have one moment of domesticity in the wasteland of a mission merlin knows is about to be doomed #and yeah they still have the occasional quip and bit of banter #but this moment was pure and untainted and they cut it because there was nothing left of that innocence that had once defined them #or at least it was no longer important to who they are #and it's this #this stolen moment #that truly encapsulates how the story has changed from season one #back then it was a story about friendship #about humanity #about becoming who you are meant to be #but somewhere along the way that got lost and the story changed from one driven by hope to one driven by tragedy #merlin became obsessed with the fulfillment of destiny and this blind hypothetical i think he almost forgot what destiny was actually for #he wanted so badly for the arthur to become the once and future king that he lost sight of all that should have made that possible #piece by piece #he was crushed by a destiny that should hace allowed him to breathe and we see this in his choices #when he tries to kill mordred because of the words of the dragon above those of a human heart #and further still when he chooses the death or mordred over actually legalising magic #WHICH WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF DESTINY IN THE FIRST PLACE #but thw painful irony is that he does all of this from humanity and his love for arthur #he forgets his humanity yet it remains his fatal #his most inherent flaw #i suppose the diamiir was right in a way: #arthur's bane is himself #but that is not because of his mistakes but because of merlin's #arthur is merlin's fatal flaw and merlin is his #they represent a dual tragedy and drive each other to destruction #a two sided coin left devoid of that which once gave it value

[katnissgirlsmakedo]

not attracted to luke julie and the phantoms but i do very much want to inhabit his skin. i would be so much better at being him than he is. i don’t know the man actually he seems like a lovely guy. but FUCK if i could be anyone…. i just wish i was him. and i’ve always said this.

#i would have been so good at being an average white guy who can sing #in some ways i feel like that was my destiny and it was brutally stolen from me to keep me humble #beth.txt

[fireteam-survivor]

MY FANFIC WAS STOLEN AND IS BEING SOLD WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

I am sure many are aware that someone is stealing work off of Ao3 and selling it as their own. The Dark Side of Light has been stolen and is being sold on Amazon, by Barnes and Noble and Book Depository. If you see my work anywhere else please let me know. I am currently in contact with Amazon and working on an email to send to other places my work has been published, I have all the proof I need to show the work is originally mine.

EDIT: I have sent out a total of 4 DMCA Takedown Notices and am waiting on a Dutch friend who is helping me as they posted my work on a Dutch site as well.

#Destiny 2 #destiny 2 fanfiction #archieve of our own #A03 #stolen work #stolen fanfic

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (II)

Feyd Rautha x fem!reader

summary: the na-baron takes an interest in you

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 1.8k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

“...humiliating…disgusting…barbaric…”

You flinch as your father’s anger roars. Nothing you do will ever please him. 

“What do you think will be said of me? Of how I raised you?”

“You didn’t,” you want to say. Instead you apologize. Harkonnens are animals you rationalize. They were testing to see if you were prey and you had to show them you aren’t. 

“And in doing so you’ve tainted yourself.”

It’s like a slap. The cut on your hand still stings from the solution they’d scrubbed on it. It had only been a handshake. It was a show of strength. He’d understand that sentiment if there was a cock swinging between your legs. He doesn’t stay to say more, leaving you to nurse the wounds alone. 

A feast is held that night. A welcome to your guests. You're squeezed into a new outfit, one you've been told your father deems more appropriate than the one you’d had chosen. It’s the first time he’s ever taken the initiative to dress you. It gives you no pleasure to recognize the dress as one of his courtesan’s.

“Your dress is lovely,” says the Princess Irulan when she sees you again after the food had been taken away and the party mills about in the Hall. She takes your arm and strolls with you between the bodies. The familiarity between you is striking. She speaks of her sisters, the planet she calls home. You tell her of your studies. It seems you share a fondness for the same authors.

It’s odd to feel her warm smile. There were few women in your life. Maids mostly, though they rotated frequently. A few of the castle’s regular entertainers when allowed. You don’t count the courtesans who keep your father company. 

“Princess,” Paul greets her with a bow, intruding on your talks of taking an excursion around the palace grounds. Those green eyes turn on you and sweep across your form. “My lady, you look stunning.” He takes your hand again and bends to kiss it while you try not to flinch. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Irulan says with more kindness than deserved. “We were just making plans to visit the lake the day after tomorrow.”

The way his face lights up has your excitement plummeting. He’s eager to join. You stay as long as you can stand his conversation. It’s not long. You excuse yourself, claiming the need to check on the rest of your guests, and extract your arm from the princess’. You accept a kiss on your cheek from her before disappearing into the crowd.

You have no desire to mingle more. Whatever consequences you’ll face when your father finds out about you slipping out don’t worry you. His anger would have found something to punish you for anyways. Cool air greets you as you step into the gardens. It’s not your favorite place, but the training yard is too far in this getup. 

“It’s rude to leave your own party.”

Hair raises on your arms, but you don’t turn to the voice. “You have my apologies for my rudeness then.”

“And it is unwise to keep your back to an armed man.”

“What fun is life without a little risk, na-Baron?”

He chuckles at that. There’s quiet footsteps as he paces behind you like a panther appraising a potential meal. You keep your eyes forward. “You and the princess seem to have bonded quite quickly.” He’s been watching you.

“She is easy to be fond of.” 

Shadow swallows you as he steps behind you. Breath ruffling your hair he asks, “But Paul Atriedes is not?” He’s been watching you closely. A fingernail scraps down your bare arm. “Do you resent him for what he’s stolen from you?”

You spin.

The black void that is his smile is wide on his face. Humiliation sears your throat. How many people know of your father’s deepest shame? Feyd-Rautha seems to revel in that silent moment. Your pain brings him pleasure. 

“I must return to my guests,” you say and step around him. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you're prepared. You evade, pull your arms taut to your chest, and dart down the hall as his laugh taunts. The respect you built with the Harkonnens was nothing more than delusion. It doesn’t matter what teeth you bare or claws you present, any show of weakness will be exploited. 

You round a corner and nearly crash into a guard. The same one from earlier. He questions if you’re hurt, eyes darting the corridor behind you. He seems to find nothing. You agree with his warnings now. It’s best you don’t wander alone.

You wake unrested. Images of blackened teeth, slicing blades, and hoarse laughter haunt you into the morning hours. You’ve made the decision to retain a personal guard. The choice in who is easy. 

You spend the day reviewing everything for your coming of age in a couple of days. Your father is supposed to do it, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s tedious but the hours of distraction are welcome. And it gives you reason to decline Paul’s lunch invitation. It’s only when the sun is past its peak that you’re forced to hand over the remaining duties to your grumbling father. The swordmaster demands your time to refine a performance you still can’t rationalize. Who is it for?

Your father? A man who despises any display of femininity from you? The princess? In some attempt at an apology for a marriage that can now no longer be? Or House Atreides? The ones who’d stolen your destiny before you’d been a seed in your mother’s womb? This artistry certainly isn’t for the brutes of House Harkonnen.

The music halts half way through the fourth run. “Your timing is wrong,” the swordmaster says and has you begin again. 

By time he’s satisfied, your legs burn and your patience is worn thin. You can only glower at your guard, Fandral you’ve learned is his name, as he compliments the dance. “I like the story it tells,” he defends. 

“There’s not a story.” You massage the shoulder of your sword arm. The ache isn’t unwelcome, but the cause is frustrating. The time would have been better spent actually training.

“All art tells a story,” he says.

You scoff. “And what’s the story? I go crazy and start fighting air?”

“You can see it that way, but I think there’s more nuance.” He eyes the girls as you hand off the swords as if expecting one of them to run you through. “It’s the story of a girl turning into a woman.”

A laugh erupts from you. It’s a fitting story for your coming of age, at least. He tries to explain his reasoning. The symbolism of the first sword as the first menstruation, the second as the final years of youthful rebellion, and the end is the acceptance of the new role as a woman. You don’t quite believe it.

There’s no dreams of black teeth or the bite of blades that night. This nightmare is of your mother. Her face unmoving. Silent as you scream. She never moves, but she’s forever out of reach. Then she’s gone and you’re left gasping in the dark alone. 

“This is beautiful,” Paul says in awe as he stares out over the lake.

It’s difficult to not let every word out of his mouth annoy you. You remind yourself he didn’t steal anything from you. His mother did. “You should see it at sunrise.”

He tears his gaze off the water. “I’d like that.” He says it so earnestly you feel you’re missing something. 

“As would I,” Irulan says. You turn your head to look at her on your otherside, but her eyes remain focused on the scenery. 

“And I,” the Harkonnen rasps in your ear.

His addition to the excursion had been as unexpected as it was unwanted. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a day by the water. Even now, he’s at odds with the world around him. His stark white skin and ghastly black clothes unsettling out amongst the colors. You doubt he truly wants to see the beauty of first light. 

“Another day,” you say. It’s not a promise. 

You only plan to stay for an hour at most, enjoying a light lunch under your favorite tree, but Paul asks about going out on the lake. There’s only a small canoe available on such short notice, but it’s enough. Irulan has no desire to get on the water and says she’d prefer to ask Feyd-Rautha about the Spice harvesting on Arrakis. You aren’t keen on leaving her with him, but she insists and there’s guards to keep her safe.

Paul tries to play the gentleman and offers you his hand once he’s in the canoe, but he’s unsteady and nearly tips it over. You return his apologetic smile as you hear hoarse, barking laughter from the tree.

He’s inquisitive as you row out of sight. About your studies, arts you partake in, foods you enjoy. He even asks about your favorite color. You try to respond in kind, but he doesn’t leave you much time to catch your breath between answers let alone ask your own questions. It’s frustrating but you smile and bear it.

“What’s that?” 

Blinking at him confused, you follow his gaze. A few meters from the shoreline was a small marble pavilion. It’s overgrown with vines, graying from the accumulation of dirt and grime. You’ve forgotten it was here. It feels like there’s cotton in your mouth when you speak. “Just an old pavilion.”

You let him take the canoe further for a while longer, before turning it back. You don’t look at the pavilion when you pass it again. It’s a relief to come back into view of the others. The canoe floats to stop beside the small dock. Fandral is there waiting, his arm extended. But Paul stands too quickly and the canoe sways. Your hand brushes Fandral’s outstretched one for a moment, but you tilt the other way and spill into the frigid water. 

It's not deep. Once you have bearings you’re able to stand and your head breaks through the surface. You take in a deep, shuddering breath. There’s a commotion beside you. Paul’s head pops out and sprays more water in your face.

Someone’s speaking, but there's a river flowing in your ears that makes it impossible to understand. It's a difficult walk to the dock. Your dress is heavy and the water slows your steps. An arm reaches out to you and you take it to help pull yourself up. 

Feyd-Rautha stares down at you. Not with a smile. There’s no amusement on his face. There's something new in his eyes you don’t recognize. It takes Fandral’s interference to release you from the intensity of his gaze. The guard shrugs off the jacket of his uniform and drapes it around your shoulders.

Irulan frets despite your multiple assurances you’re fine. It wasn’t deep. There was no danger. You’re wet, that’s all. Paul apologizes over and over and over again. “It was an accident,” you say in hopes of appeasing his guilt. You want Paul Atreides to leave you alone.

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#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #dune part two #stolen destiny

[zhivchik]

Royalty | Charn x Tinn | Laws of Attraction (AU) One forgot and one remembered too clearly.

Say I'm cold hearted But I'm just getting started

#laws of attraction #กฎแห่งรักดึงดูด #sorry stortytelling or any telling isn't my strong strength at all #and i saw only one drama with modern royalty) #and this whole thing exists because of the archery scene so... i tried x) #also someone explain me the last sign that doesn't get small'ed whenever i post a video and delete a yb tag i think? #so the story probably: 20 years ago tinn's father got killed and he himself almost died #but was saved and stolen by some concerned soul #he forgot #chan (as his friend was a witness but run away #couldn't forget; grew a thick skin; dreamed of revenge; a keeper of tinn's niece's house #and she's gonna inherit eveything #also one big coincidence because destiny and second chances #...this vid doesn't deserve this much tagging argh

[aceofcaydes01]

so I'm catching up on season of plunder story missions and I just got this lore tab. please tell me I'm not the only one that found this adorable. ^^

Between Stolen Stars-

V-Credible Threat

Crow leaned against a wooden stool in the dark interior of The Ether Tank, listening to Spider's wet snores as e dozed fitfully in his chair.

It was the small hours of the morning and the Eliksni Quarter was quiet aside from the low chattering of the scattered Eliksni guards and the electric hum of Spider's gaudy signage. Crow had slipped easily into the empty bar.

Crow had carefully stuck a knife into the stool beside him, perfectly placed so that Spider would see it when he woke.

Spider coughed softly. Crow looked at the big Eliksni, took a measured breath, and saw him plainly: as someone sleeping alone in a city of enemies.

He looked around the tawdry interior of the bar, decorated with what scraps Spider had managed to bring as he fled the Shore for the safety of the Last City, where he now survived on the charity of Drifter and Mithrax alone.

Crow shook his head with a smile and pulled the knife from the stool before sliding it into its sheath. He was at the doorway before he heard a fizzling noise behind him.

Glint materialized in midair. "What are you doing?" Crow hissed, but the Ghost was already zipping toward Spider.

"Hey!" Glint yelled, and Spider snorted himself awake.

Glint increased his lights to a dazzling gleam and hovered aggressively before Spider's face. The Eliksni recoiled and raised his arms, but Glint wove between them like an angry bee.

"Crow may be too nice to send a message," he shouted, "but I'm not!"

"What-" Spider managed before he erupted in a fit of confused coughing.

"We're watching you," Glint snarled, his voice quivering with tension. "And if you step out of line, so help me, I'll deal with you myself!"

Spider caught his breath and sat motionless as the little Ghost fluttered furiously before him.

"And...don't!"

Glint lurched forward and bopped himself against Spider's faceplate with a thunk.

"You!"

Crow covered his mouth as Glint delivered another ludicrous bonk. The Eliksni blinked, too shocked to react.

"Forget it!" Glint shouted, his voice breaking. He whirled his shell defiantly before transmatting away, plunging Spider into darkness once more.

***

Crow was still laughing as the pair approached the lift to the Tower. Glint hung sheepishly in the air.

"I'm sorry," Glint said. "I guess I didn't have to do that."

"Actually," Crow replied, reaching up to scratch his friend's shell, "I think you did."

#destiny 2 #lore tabs #between stolen stars: v: credible threat #Crow #Glint #Spider #Eliksni quarter #season of plunder

[noise-misato-3-twink-eater]

R/destiny2 seems extra relatable this morning 🥰

#again bungie is killin it #destiny #stolen from reddit

[rsmrymnt-tea]

sylvari commander who’s on the verge of falling to nightmare during their time in the maguuma, and somehow canach is the one that keeps them from falling apart

#having thoughts about sylvari!dolasach and that line from aurene’s thoughts #back when she was still an egg but could feel the commander on the brink of breaking #imagine being the commander and losing your entire fleet in one fell swoop #your people are already doubt and descriminated against due to the actions of several wayward sylvari #and now your lover and destiny’s edges are all lost in the jungle #status unknown #while a trusted friend has also gone astray and stolen something deat and entrusted to you #playing the game again has given me Thoughts and Im trying not to get lost in then #*them #fall into nightmare then pull yourself out #ah dolasach my beloved… sorry for doing this to you no matter what universe youre in >.>;; #guild wars 2 #idea.katha