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super-paper · 10 months

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Tomura: so like, hero and villain names used to be given to people by their sworn enemies in the old days— like, you know, probably around the time period that sensei grew up in. Not that that’s relevant or anything. Anyway, people also started using hero and villain names to hide away parts of themselves and create alter egos— and that’s part of the reason why so many people have trouble distinguishing fact from fiction and treat this world like it’s a comic book. None of that applies to me though! So I don’t need a villain name lol.

Me:

#tomura i love you but for the love of god 😭#self awareness level zero strikes again #mha spoilers #god the whole renaming ceremony continues to be one of the most fucking insidious things abt tomura’s past and no one talks enough abt it #i have all the ammunition i need for the big hero/villain name post i’ve been wanting to write now at least #tho part of me wants to wait for afo’s name reveal bc im 99% sure he’s gonna freak when someone finally calls him by it

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empressessence · 11 days

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The Art of Sacred Self-Care: Nurturing Your Inner Empress

Welcome back to Empress Essence, where we continue our journey of self-discovery and empowerment. In our last blog post, we explored the essence of feminine energy and the importance of embracing our inner Empress. Today, let us delve deeper into the practice of sacred self-care—a cornerstone of our journey towards embodying our fullest potential.

Honoring Your Temple: Your body is a sacred vessel—a temple that houses your divine essence. Treat it with the reverence it deserves by nourishing it with wholesome foods, movement, and rest. Practice self-care rituals that honor your physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Whether it's a gentle yoga session, a nourishing meal, or a soothing bath, prioritize activities that replenish and rejuvenate your body.

Cultivating Mindfulness: In the hustle and bustle of daily life, it's easy to become disconnected from the present moment. Cultivate mindfulness as a means of anchoring yourself in the here and now. Take time each day to pause, breathe, and tune into your senses. Whether it's through meditation, mindful movement, or simply savoring a cup of tea, allow yourself to fully immerse in the richness of each moment.

Embracing Ritual and Ceremony: Rituals and ceremonies hold profound significance in honoring the sacred within and around us. Create rituals that speak to your soul—a morning gratitude practice, a full moon ceremony, or a sacred space for reflection and intention-setting. Infuse these rituals with meaning and intention, allowing them to serve as potent reminders of your connection to the divine.

Setting Boundaries: Boundaries are essential for preserving your energy and maintaining your inner harmony. Learn to discern what nurtures your soul and what depletes it. Set clear boundaries around your time, energy, and relationships, honoring your needs and priorities. Remember, saying no to what no longer serves you is an act of self-love and empowerment.

Cultivating Creativity: Creativity is a powerful expression of feminine energy—a force that flows through you, inspiring innovation, beauty, and growth. Engage in activities that ignite your creative spark—whether it's painting, writing, dancing, or gardening. Allow yourself the freedom to play, explore, and express your unique essence without inhibition.

As we conclude our exploration of sacred self-care, I invite you to incorporate these practices into your daily life with intention and reverence. Remember, nurturing your inner Empress is not selfish; it is an act of profound love and devotion to yourself and those around you. Embrace the art of sacred self-care and watch as it illuminates your path towards wholeness and fulfillment.

We invite you to share your own self-care rituals below, and stay tuned for upcoming community events focused on sacred self-care practices.

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sarcasticsra · 2 years

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Now: imagine you’re Hob, and you meet a fey so stunningly poised, a true gem, in your eyes, of their court. You think their magnificence is only further enhanced by the fact that they, too, understand what it is like to serve others, to work so that others may enjoy the majesty of the Bloom. You share an unexpectedly tender moment, alone in the forest, and then it ends abruptly, and you are unsure as to what you have done.

This uncertainty is only further exacerbated when you are challenged to a duel by their assistant, and even once it is over, she refuses to tell you what offense you have committed. It seems logical to conclude that your foolhardiness in expressing any tender sentiments to someone so majestic was an insult that could not stand. As you are reminded by your superiors, you are a blunt instrument. That is your purpose.

Then you see them transform at the tea party, the lovely elven form fading away to reveal them as they truly are: a resplendent, breathtaking owlbear, eyes kind, nervous. You stumble over your own feet, marveling at the splendor of them. Their magnificence truly knows no bounds.

You realize, then, what an arrogant fool you were, to think anything you did or said impacted their thoughts in any way. They simply had their own inner worries to focus on. As if a humble goblin such as yourself could even begin to factor into any of their considerations at all.

And in the hedge maze, as you turn away from the scent of peonies, you know you are something else, even worse than a fool: a coward.

At the tailor’s shop, you remind yourself that you are an idiot, insignificant to their mind, but you remain enamored by them, the glory of their beauty such that it could inspire a sunrise to jealousy. They don’t say much when the conversation turns to deriding the Court of Wonder, and you are moved, wishing only to comfort them, as they describe their complicated feelings toward their court. You understand them. You know that isolation.

When they tell you that you were used, that it seems as though no one else in the Goblin Court has given any concern to your needs, you feel the coldness of the medal in your hand so keenly, stunned even as you know they are correct, unable to offer any reproach to their words. This wondrous fey before you is like none other you have met, and you are unworthy in their presence. You hurriedly give them your medal, rushing to the door, hearing but not heeding their insistence that you protect yourself.

At the masquerade ball, when the fireworks explode above, your only thought is of them. You act so rashly, ungentlemanly, placing your hands on them without permission, but their response is kind, gracious. You can scarcely believe it when they show you their empty dance card, and you feel the breath leave your lungs when they ask you for yours. You meet their eyes, feeling the magic in the air, and you eat your card, so that their name and their name alone will ever be the one it bears, as close to you as you can keep it.

You dance, and you dance, and you dance again, and even when you muck it up with your typical oafishness, they seem to enjoy it, to enjoy you. You are spellbound in their arms, and when they ask you what the P stands for in your name, you can only whisper it, a secret just for them. They smile, lifting a peony from their ensemble, and place it behind your ear, as if in exchange. For the first time in your life, you feel cherished. You feel pretty.

Their kindness this evening is a gift you will be grateful for forever. They have given you a glimpse of possibility, of what it might be like to be... loved, and it is as beautiful a dream as they are.

Reality, of course, returns the following morning, with your new promotion and your new assignment, and after your conversation with BINX, you think it is no wonder you are so easily cornered by Prince Apollo, as true a scoundrel as you’ve always suspected. You flee, taking substantial wounds for your trouble, but you do find the others, them included. They ask you if you’re hurt, and you try to assure them, but your answer seems to upset them, and you realize you must have looked a fright. Wounds are nothing to you if you may be of service, but of course someone so kind would be concerned. They ask you again about your own wants and happiness, and you do not know how to answer. There is no alternative to obligation, is there?

They simply wish you happiness before they leave, something in their demeanor... dampened, and Lady Featherfowl quite understandably assumes you’ve been stabbed once again, this time right through the heart.

At the theater, when the message from the Court of Sea Foam comes through the blossom, you are frazzled, moving to find more information, and the confirmation of your terrible suspicion feels like ice in your veins.

You are a fool. You’ve known it all along. Of course a fey so wondrous and glorious would not lower themself to entertain a lowly goblin like you. Of course they would not truly care about your wants, your needs. What you took as kindness out of obligation to the Bloom was nothing more than calculated cunning, expertly wielded to keep you off guard, to dissuade you from your mission. You’ve been tricked, made a mockery of, and so easily, too. It mustn’t have taken them much effort at all, to make you feel as you did--as you do.

You confront them, knowing you will be unable to fully conceal the effect they’ve had on you. Even now, in the moonlight, in their red-rose dress, they are stunning. They speak of love as the basis for their actions, as though the damage they have dealt to your court is irrelevant, as though your duty, your service, is irrelevant. You know now their actions toward you were a charade, but still it stings. You thought you understood them. You thought they understood you.

And then they tell you they love you, and you are caught, frozen, mouth agape, as they explain how much they love you and how much they care, that they’ve professed their feelings and did not receive a response. They explain why they turned away from you in the forest, that you inspired their glorious unveiling, and in that moment, your mind reels, and you feel as though you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

#acofaf #acofaf spoilers #battlemaster of ceremonies #okay so the rue POV made me want to write hob's lol #this one is a bit longer but he's kinda wordy so I guess that fits #I JUST LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH #this poor broken goblin who just needs at least an ounce of self esteem and a hug #he thinks it was all a trick and it's so sad :(#he thinks no one could possibly care for him #least of all someone as amazing as rue #hob you are loved and I will fight the entire goblin court on your behalf I swear #hob's relationship with service and his court is deeply fucked #why do I have so many feelings about a bugbear and an owlbear and their complex emotional bonds and traumas #why is it not next Wednesday yet #a court of fey and flowers #dimension 20

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ahotknife · 1 year

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what is the modern day cultural equivalent to the zeitgeist that was 2013-2014 tumblr indie music? nothing will ever compare to the 1975 self titled, pure heroine, arctic monkeys AM, the nbhd I <3 you, one direction’s Night Changes, hozier’s debut, lana del ray paradise & born to die double whammy & marina & the diamonds and room 93 ALL being released in the SAME 18 month window. a generation of teenage girls with no personality except for “yeah i listen to this band you’ve probably never heard of”. kids these days don’t have that. they’ll never know how it felt

#nowadays it’s 15 seconds of a song from last year played at 2x speed #i also loved dry the river but that was my own personal thing that never got big on tumblr #top 4 albums on repeat of all time was new ceremony pure heroine 1975 self titled and marina #i pirated them from youtube so they were all on my ipod nano as one very long song so i’d listen to them all at once cus i couldn’t skip #PLUS bastille PLUS sail by awolnation #lucinda.txt

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sbc-moved · 3 months

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Been thinking about rewatching aggretsuko and i remembered he exists and WOW he is like. My ideal man maybe EVER

Like. He doesn’t want kids, he doesn’t want to get married, he doesn’t want you to work. I do not know how it could get better than that.

Not to mention he’s very like. Honest and upfront about his feelings which is like. Amazing. Dude let me live in your limo.

#irl I never actually want to get married tbh #I LOVE the idea of having a big beautiful ceremony with all the bells and whistles #but I hate the idea of being legally bound to someone #maybe it’s just the crippling trust and commitment issues but like. I need to be able to get out of a relationship at any time #not important #anyway this guy is perfect for me oughhgg #I like that his whole arc was ‘we have different goals so we can’t be together’#which I mean that’s so fair but also. I cannot help feeling like retsuko fumbledddd #Tadano #f/o gush #self shipping #♡.love letters

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moved-to-void-kissed · 2 years

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Aqua: "In your hand, take this key. As I know you have the makings, then through this simple act of taking.. its wielder you shall once more be. And this will never end - no ocean will contain you, then. Still no borders around, or below, or above - now, rise up, my champion; face me, my love."

Here is my piece for today, which is the thirteenth day of the month! ..I didn't actually plan for it to feature my selfship with Aqua due to the significance of the number thirteen to Kingdom Hearts, but that's ended up as a very nice coincidence, haha. It depicts Aria's bequeathing ceremony, as she had lost the ability to wield a Keyblade upon entering her new body. However, Aqua's status and power as a Keyblade Master allows her to perform an inheritance ceremony to grant Aria the ability again - it's a very special event ^-^

Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required!~

#a call from the void #creations from the void #made using MMD #kingdom hearts selfshipping #this post is okay to reblog!#selfship #selfshipping #heart of the void #love: wayfinding waters (aqua)#selfship: survivors of the dark (aqua/aria)#self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#sapphic september 2022 #I decided to depict aqua using brightcrest for this because that to me is the one keyblade she has that truly represents *her*#since yes rainfell is her default keyblade and it gets upgraded into stormfall #but it's very similar to the master's defender that she later has to take up - which is not her keyblade but instead eraqus'#whereas brightcrest is *her* keyblade - not anything to do with her teachings or even her position as a keyblade master necessarily #it has the wayfinder in its tip and as its keychain; it represents aqua's connection to ventus and terra who she cares about so greatly #aqua has a title called ''dancing waters forming bonds'' in japanese and i think brightcrest represents that most aptly out of her blades #yes perhaps she should be using stormfall because of the officialness of this ceremony but #her using brightcrest instead sort of marks the way that she (with aria's help) will lead the land of departure -#in a way that takes the knowledge of tradition but does not bind itself to it and is willing to accept and embrace change #oh also aqua is wearing her royal tiara and flawless wings because.. it makes the whole thing seem more ceremonial #for context those are decorations you can acquire during 0.2 and use them to dress aqua up for literally no reason #so in my version of events they’re things aria finds and gifts to aqua to help lift her spirits while the two are in the realm of darkness

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revvywevvy · 2 years

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yknow the more I think about this wedding the more I realize it has this.... bitter-sweetness to it. Sure, we're getting married, like holy cow that's an incredible feeling, but at the same time... there won't be much of a ceremony in the first place. Caelina is a raging introvert and has no friends. ; Pyrrha tried asking Patroklos and he outright refused solely because of his.... issues. (he did congratulate Pyrrha tho but only bc he's biased) ; and its not like it's exactly... safe? for either of them to invite anyone else; let alone mention it? Considering the circumstances its just so.. risky.

It's exciting but at the same time it's absolutely petrifying because such togetherness is illegal in that time and place. (it's the 16th century; what more could you expect from such a time).. Pyrrha wishes that there could be a ceremony just like the ones her mother and many other people of her heritage partook in, but.... it's just not possible.

...But even with that in mind, what they do have works well enough. It's sad knowing they can't share such joy with much of anyone; but at least, in the end, they still have eachother.

#cell mumbles #ramblings #cw homophobia #self ship #wlw selfship #//idk man it just......... got me thinking. about the era; the laws; the everything.#//it....... kinda makes me sad.#//like- a big ceremonious thing would be so fun; but considering the lore/background of everything its impossible #//its so sad in such a way; but also so wonderful knowing that even if the world at large is against your existence (1/2)#//at least you have someone there who loves you for you; who'd never leave your side through thick and thin (2/2)#//so........... yeah; kinda bitter-sweet #//idk my mind just got goin there don't mind me

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biohazard-inevitable · 2 years

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Itto and I walked into the Kamisato estate to get the lay of the land (and try to steal decorating tips from thoma) and accidentally walked in on Thoma and Ayato playing Shogi and Ayato and I just pointed at each other and yelled, “YOU!” Before settling down to play a game, the tensions in the air rising as Itto immediately went to cheer me on and Thoma onserved from Ayato’s side.

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato #thoma #arataki itto #self insert shenanigans #based off the cutscene that I DIDNT KNOW I WAS WALKING INTO #but damn #DAMN AYATO #he knows how to make an entrance #i love his japanese voice so much #i will fight him 100% though #hes so pretty #i will steal his beaty tips while im here #and maybe some of his ceremonial kimonos #THATS WHAT HE GETS FOR BEING GOOD AT SHOGI

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shamanflavio · 2 months

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The Shaman meets a Demon

It seems like this is a life that has obstruction, resistance, struggle, and competition everywhere. Some religious organizations have denounced “the flesh.” Others have gone after the human emotions or, worse, what it is to just be human. This self-criticism extends to academic and scientific institutions. Among them, some of the most popular beliefs are that humans are irresponsible,…

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adancewiththedivine · 3 months

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I am resting in the flow of life, being constantly initiated into that which creates growth

#today is ceremony #a letting go of the old self #transforming into the new #love

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sn00pii · 3 months

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reflectionsss ✨

#full moon #moon #emocore #ceremony #spells #witch aesthetic #emo #reflection #self love

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foreverdolly · 1 month

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good-

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed.

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things.

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics.

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered.

“Do all women take this long to get ready?”

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf.

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring.

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous.

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms.

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited.

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have.

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction.

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away.

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth.

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm.

You waited. And waited. And waited.

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand.

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far.

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket.

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack.

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm.

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce.

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement.

“No.”

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest.

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . . spineless.”

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he.

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him.

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you.

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred.

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice.

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together.

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . .

Aimed at his throat.

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him.

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. . . the natural musk of his skin.

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin.

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it.

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own.

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in.

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you.

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole.

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with.

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain.

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it.

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft.

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair.

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire.

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood.

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now.

“I wanted to.” You conceded.

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused.

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone.

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably.

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land.

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now.

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you.

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you.

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now.

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating.

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped.

“Atreides.”

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized.

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . .

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger.

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier.

He had been trying to warn you.

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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