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#pointing out the important things this morning
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i'll look after you | charles leclerc
prompt: everyone close to y/n is worried. she doesn't eat or drink enough and those are two extremely important things, especially this weekend. she will be racing in qatar at all time high temps. most worried is her best friend and teammate lando and secret boyfriend charles leclerc
warnings: discussions about not eating/ taking care of self, angst, fluff, cursing, injury, throwing up?, fear, fluff
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No one expected Qatar to be so hot. Y/n stepped off of the plane, sweatshirt and sweatpants immediately causing her to sweat. She put her sunglasses on. “Who would’ve thought it would be this hot in the morning?” 
Her teammate Lando Norris responded, “Not me.” He pulled at the front of his black t-shirt. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead before climbing into a car.  “Hey.” He tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.
“Yeah?” She looked away from the window. 
“Are you alright?” He frowned. “You’ve just been off. You seem tired and-” He looked down at her figure, “have you been eating enough and drinking? If it's this hot on Sunday you’re gonna need to be fully nourished.”
“I’ve made the weigh-ins every weekend, so don’t worry, I’ll get us points.” She snapped.
“That's not why I’m worried.” He shook his head. “I want you to be alright.” 
The start of the weekend had been more peaceful than usual. Media had less sexist questions, the car felt good, and y/n had been more open to eating. She kept her head down as she went to her first meeting after FP3. She sat across from her trainer as he slid her a vegetable plate across the table. “Eat.”
“You’re wasting my time.” She glared at him. “I thought this was an actual meeting.”
“It is.” He nodded. “I need you to eat and drink as much as possible these next few days. This race is going to be so hot, you’ll lose a lot of water and a lot of weight. I know how serious you are about your racing and with your lap times these past three practices you have a good chance at qualifying front row.”
She sighed, staring down at an unappetizing plate. 
“Just take it to your driver's room with you and take a cold shower.” He pleaded.
“Okay. I will.” Y/n agreed. As she stood up her phone pinged. 
Charles: Come to my room?
                                                           Y/n: Sure.
She managed to subtly sneak herself into Ferrari hospitality and into Charles’ drivers room. “Hi.” She smiled shyly.
“Hi.” He hugged her before kissing her lightly on the cheek. 
“Lucky, you’ve gotten to shower.” She smelled his freshly washed hair, a comforting smell. She watched him as he glanced at the plate of food in her hand. 
“Let's eat.” He smiled, grabbing the plate from her and placing it on a table, ushering her to sit. 
“I’m not very hungry…” She breathed. “I would really love a shower though.” 
“We’ll shower after I see you eat a bit.” 
She took a bite of celery with hummus. Charles brushed a piece of her hair behind her hair, his movements so faint it tickled. He had convinced her to eat a few more vegetables before she decided it was time to wash herself off. He stood up with her, hand on her waist, ready to guide her to the bathroom. “Is it okay if I shower alone?” She whispered, touching his hand. “I’m just really tired and I need a cold shower and I know how you feel about those.”
Excuses to keep him away. “That’s fine.” He smiled. She smiled back at him, a hint of a sparkle. “Can we talk about something after you get out?”
“What is it?” Her smile flickered.
“M’just worried about you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “This is going to be a tough race.”
“Why are you acting like I can’t do it?” Y/n shook her head, feeling betrayed.
“It’s not that you can’t do it! It’s that you’re not taking care of yourself!”
“Whatever, Charles.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to shower and I hope you clear your head while I’m in there.” Y/n washed herself, feeling a relief as the cold droplets of water relieved her hot skin. Her head drooped as she tried not to fall asleep cleaning her face. She slowly pulled on a white blouse with jean shorts, easing them onto her achy limbs. She pulled her hair into a braid, knowing the heat outside would dry it within minutes. Charles had passed out on the couch, y/n tiptoed around looking for her shoes.
“Baby…” He mumbled, slowly waking up, “Where are you going?”
She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ve got to go get some sleep before qualifying tomorrow.” 
He grabbed her waist before she could walk away. “I thought I was bringing you to the hotel.”
“Charles.” She tensed.
“What?” He sat up, offended.
“I’m stressed and the idea of us being seen together makes me even more stressed.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Charles’ brows furrowed.
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” 
“Are you sure about that?” He frowned.
“I have to go. I love you and I’ll text you later.” She walked away, shooing off his insecurities. 
The next day, Y/n had made it to Q3 and was starting in third the next day. She was disappointed she didn’t make the front row, but shrugged it off. Lando had pulled her into a hug before she hit the media pin. “Congrats!” He rubbed a hand on her back.
“Thank you.” She hugged him back. 
“You’re very hot…” He moved his hand to her face. “Here, take the rest of my water.” He forced it into her hand, knowing she didn’t drink water enough throughout the day.
“Thanks.” She accepted it, immediately taking a sip. Lando's eyes widened, surprised at her immediate acceptance. She stood outside the media pin and chugged Lando's water, searching for a cooling feeling. She felt a cold towel brace her neck and groaned at the relief. She turned around to see who had applied it and watched as Charles winked before entering the media chaos, no hard feelings from the night before. She followed shortly after.
After an hour of answering cryptic questions, denying answers about her personal life, and bragging about her grid-place she was able to escape. Charles waited for her to get out of meetings and strolled next to her. “Can I come to your room tonight?” She asked.
“Trying to distract me from the fact you’re starting a place behind me?” He joked.
“Just nervous…” She fiddled with her rings. “And you always help with my nerves.”
“Of course you can come to my room, Y/n.” He affirmed. “Always.” A wave of relief flooded over him when he realized he could monitor her closely. 
Y/n walked down the hall to his room and knocked on the door. It was quickly opened and she was greeted with a kiss on the lips and a glass of water. “It’s freezing in here.” She shivered. 
“Sorry.” He wrapped a hand around her waist. “Y’know who I saw today?” He looked down at her.
“Who?” She held eye contact, his watercolor eyes gleaming. His eyes grounded her onto this earth. 
“I saw Daniel after qualifying.”
“How is he?”
“He thinks he might be given the opportunity to take over De Vries’ position at Alpha Tauri.”
Her eyes widened. “Jeez.”
“Yeah it’s rough.” He shook his head. The couple continued their chit chat as y/n slowly tucked herself into his bed. Charles sat on the other side of the bed, pulling out a carton of strawberries. “Here.” He gestured her to open her mouth and slowly fed her the fruit. 
“God, that's good.” Her eyes fluttered.
“You need to request some for your room next time.” He smiled. Her mouth formed a line as she delved deeper under the covers, turning the lamp on her nightstand off. She kept her eyes closed for a couple of minutes before feeling Charles’ arms wrap around her. She nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck. “I love you.” He mumbled.
“I love you too.” 
Y/n pulled on a Mclaren shirt and a pair of jeans. “Fuck.” Charles cursed. “What is it?” She folded her collar before checking on him.
“It’s going to be over 100 degrees in that car tonight.”
“It’ll be fine.” She shrugged.
“Do you know how hot that is?” His face was deadpan.
“I’ll figure it out.” She joked.
“No. You’ll drink water and you’re going to eat breakfast with me so I know you eat before the race.”
“Calm down.” She folded her sleeping shirt, breathily laughing.
“This isn’t a joke you could seriously get hurt.”
“Okay.” She played along with his seriousness.
Charles had watched her eat breakfast before they got to track and he had to say his goodbyes. They did their pre-race ritual together. She hugged him, racing suit tied at her waist, his tied the same way. “Be mindful today.” He whispered into her ear. “Be safe.” He reaffirmed.
“You too, Charlie.” She kept a hand in his hair. 
“I have to go.” He kissed her quickly. “I love you no matter what.
“I love you.” She tugged at his hand before letting him go. 
Y/n’s engineer came to see her in the car before the race started. “Drink. That's all I ask of you.” He fastened the bottle of water into the car. “If you begin to feel sick at all, radio us. It is going to be up to 120 degrees in that car, we are not going to blame you for any safe moves. We want you to be safe.” He gave her gloved hand a squeeze. She nodded, pulling her visor down.
She had a good start to the race, keeping her starting position. 10 laps in she called in.
“The visor is super foggy, guys. It’s sweaty in here!” She half-joked.
“Try to wipe it when possible.” Someone responded.
After 40 laps she was told to pit. 
“Pit.Pit.”
“Okay.” Her breath was shaky. “Yeah, the hard tyres wore out pretty quickly.” She tried straightening out her breathing patterns. Drink. She tried to will herself, but her body wouldn’t do it. It was too focused on other things.  She had dropped down to fourth place, behind Lance Stroll. “My seat feels like it’s on fire!”
“Do you need to retire?” Zak responded.
“No, just throw some water on me or something!” 
It was lap 56, two laps left and she had caught up to Lance. 
“He’s struggling on these corners.”
“Be careful around him.” Her engineer radioed. “Something must be wrong, he’s acting erratically.”
She was able to overtake him.
Lap 57. Last lap. Last turn. Y/n reached the final straight.
“P3, P3!” People cheered over the comms, but she swore it was muffled. Everything was blurry as she pulled into the space dedicated to 3rd. She noticed her lover's red car in 2nd and Max Verstappens in first. Charles took his helmet and balaclava off, shaking  the hand of Max. The commentator waiting for interviews began to grow concerned when the third driver had still not gotten out of her car. He whispered around and soon enough word got around to the drivers. She reached her hand up to grasp onto the halo, but fell short.
“Y/n.” Charles peered into the car.
“Yes?” She wheezed. “Just-Just give me a minute-to-get out…” She began to grab at the car again. Multiple stewards gathered around her, plus Max and Charles. Charles placed his hands underneath her arms and pulled her up. “I got sick in my helmet.” She coughed. 
“Shhh…” He took off her helmet quickly. A stretcher was brought to her. 
“I don’t want to leave.” She hiccuped. “I have a podium to cele-” She dry-heaved, nothing to throw up, “Celebrate.” 
“I’m so proud of you.” He pleaded with her to get her onto the stretcher. Her face turned ghost-white.
“I’m really scared.” She whimpered. “And-and I feel like I’m going to faint.” Charles placed his hand behind her head as her body went limp, heart breaking while paramedics attending to her vitals. It was a scene for sure. Blue and red lights from an ambulance blocked the screen below the podium, people from Mclaren that were preparing for a podium celebration were now freaking out for their driver, and Charles Leclerc seemed to be the most worried for someone who wasn’t even his teammate. Those who could only see in from the outside watched as he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead before composing himself. Love. 
“I’m going to come see you as soon as I can get out of here.” He assured her. “I’m sure everyone will.” Throughout the interviews and the celebrations Charles bit his tongue. He noticed the other worn out drivers. Lance had passed out on the corners towards the end of the race, Logan had to retire, Esteban got sick in his helmet, and the rest of the grid was laying on the floor with wet towels and gallons of water. This was just unsafe. He got away from the track as soon as possible, rushing to the hospital. “Y/n.” 
Tears filled her eyes as she saw him enter the room. “Charlie.” She dropped the strawberry in her hands. He rushed to her, quickly but carefully embracing her. The doctor came in, informing him that she was dehydrated and hadn’t had enough protein. She listened as Charles, the entire grid of drivers, and her trainer coached her on how important a meal plan is and how a meal is not something you can forget. That night Lando fell asleep on the couch and Charles held her as tight as he could.
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cauliflowercounty · 8 hours
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Knives Dance (Part III)
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader
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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 sunlight from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from his 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: asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space, or maybe 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 over the days 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 gratification. 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 new 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, 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, your craft is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramp lowers to meet the floor. Two lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, 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 outwards and form an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft. 
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 hoof.  “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 purple liquid 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 first handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature for the first time. 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 metal hit the floor and look to the floor under Feyd and Paul’s feet, and spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards scattered across the floor, 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 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 was dreading meeting, knowing he would have to enter a loveless relationship with. You were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of.  He was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting for his 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 of 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
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miss-daisy04 · 3 days
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☽ skz(hyung-line) - they find your s/h ☾
tw! this can be VERY triggering for some viewers. please read at your own discretion. i will not say this again.
word count: around 200 per person (everyone has 3 bullet points each)
warnings: s/h, comforting, sad, drunk/mentions of drinking, mentions of c-tting, bandages/cleaning wounds, crying, sleeping, lying, touching (not sensually), mentions of periods, and more.
please tell me if i missed anything (especially if it's really important)
requested by: 🎀 anon ♡
not proofread!
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CHAN:
not only did chan not expect to come home to you laying on the floor with cuts across your arms and crying, but he never knew what was happening in the first place. quickly, he rushed over to you to, what he assumed, wake you up. in reality, you were laying down. he felt upset with himself for not noticing sooner. he asked for permission, received a nod of approval, picked you up, and carried you to the bathroom where he helped you clean & bandage your cuts.
chan didn't want to make it feel uncomfortable for you so he decided not to bombard you with his thousands of questions. although, he did ask you a couple. for example: "what happened? was it something i did honey..?" continued by the statement "it will all be alright soon, we can get through this together," he said with a pleasant smile growing on his face.
the next morning when you went shopping, bangchan stayed in bed. it was almost noon when he finally made it out. he spent the whole morning crying. crying because he felt stupid. he thought it was all his fault. he hadn't noticed your struggles cause he was busy, and now he is adamant about keeping a watch on you.
MINHO:
as you two were watching a corny movie together, you couldn't help but slowly drift off into your loving boyfriend's arms. however, lee know noticed something. as you finally fell asleep, your sleeve started to inch down your arm, revealing bandages. he was curious about what was underneath them so he carefully tried to remove it. he clearly wasn't careful enough because you woke up, startled, while he asked, "what is under the bandage?" you responded with, "it's nothing..." but he didn't buy that for one minute.
before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him while he rolled your sleeves up and undid the wrap that was entangled with your arm. you could see his expression change the moment he saw the first one. he looked almost...angry. suddenly, he got off of you, offering you a hand to get up off of the floor. you grabbed his hand and he walked you over to the couch and had you sit down, one of his hands resting on your thighs.
for the next 30 minutes, he made you talk about what was going on, what happened, when it happened, and if he needed to kick someone's ass. the last thing he stated was, "oh, and by the way, you must suck at first-aid," and dragged you to the bathroom to fix you up.
CHANGBIN:
you always had been a quiet person, or compared to changbin at the least. so when you got quiet and distanced yourself, he only thought of it as you on your menstrual cycle (which by the way was placed at the same time), as he tracks it every month. he even believed it so much to go out and get some products for you. that was until he found the razor.
you thought you hid it well, and washed it well too, but obviously, you were wrong in both categories. quietly, he tiptoed into your room like a looney-tunes character and asked, announcing his voice to you, "and what might this be?" you shifted around to see him holding the razor out in front of you. "um. well, you see..." you hesitated. "you see what? what have you been doing to yourself?" his sentence made you break.
he held you as he listened to all of your troubles. he commented on most of them but left you silent so he could process what was happening. he felt bad that you suffered through this, especially because he thought you were just on your period, but that was one thing you could both laugh about.
HYUNJIN:
one drunk thought placed into reality was when you came home after a friend's party, only to find your roommate, who was also your boyfriend, sleeping on the floor, wasted (?). you walked into your room, dragging your feet, so full of alcohol. you reach into and pull out a razor from your drawer. you think about the horrible comments people said tonight, and slowly but surely start to relapse. 
that's when hyunjin barged into your room, he wasn't too drunk to be wasted, but not enough to be sober. you quickly hid your blade and he made his way over to you. your eyes were starting to water when you looked up at him and smiled. "everything alright?" he asked, a cute smile on his face, but he truly knew what was going on, so asking was pointless. you lowered your head.
he picked you up and hugged you. hyunjin is a very empathetic person, what you feel is how he feels. so, when you started crying, so did he. "promise me you won't do this again... i don't want to lose you." it could have been the alcohol talking, but you knew it was from the bottom of his heart, nonetheless.
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i hope you enjoyed, and if any of you feel the way y/n felt in this, please know that i care about you dearly and i am proud of you for everything you have ever accomplished ♡
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angstywaifu · 2 days
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The Lost Sister - Part 18
Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.
Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: I promise after this one we will get some chapters less dictated by the book. But here is the aftermath of the attack on Violet and Ophelia. There isn't much deviation, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Get prepared for some angry Ophelia in the next part.
The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist
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“I do not need a body guard.” Violet snapped at Xaden as he assigns Liam Mairi to our squad. Swapping him out with another first year cadet.
Violet and I had shared a glance as he told Dain. We both knew what he was doing. What him and Garrick were doing. He was assigning us a body guard. Liam was to watch over us and made sure nothing happened.
”We do not need a body guard. I can look out for both of us.” I tell him sternly.
He ignores both of us as he addresses Dain. “Liam is statistically one of the strongest first years in the quadrant.” His eyes briefly flicker to me. Good to know he hasn’t forgotten I pretty much stand equal with Liam minus my fight with Imogen. Though I had been declared the winner of that fight. “He was one of the fastest up the gauntlet, hasn’t lost a single challenge, and is bonded to an exceptionally strong Red Daggertail. Any squad would be lucky to have him, and he’s all yours, Aetos. You can thank me when you win the Squad Battle in the spring.”
Liam walks over and takes his place behind Violet and I.
”We. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard.” Violet repeats a little louder as she hopes to gain Xaden’s attention.
I nudge her and I shake my head at her as she looks at me. She sighs knowing her attempts are useless and we are now stuck with a bodyguard. Though I wasn’t going to let Garrick go on this. He had been gone when I had woken up, and I now knew exactly what he had been doing.
Xaden pushes past Dain and stands in front of both of us. “But you do after last night. And I can’t be everywhere you two are. But Liam here-” he points to the blonde now behind us- “he’s a first year, so he can be in every class, at every challenge. So I hope you get use to him.”
Authority rolls off Xaden. With my signet I feel his presence and I reach out. His presence in my head is anything but calm. But I can feel his weakness for us. For not being able to protect us. But his strength… His strength right now is the fact he can shuffle his wing as he see’s fit. And he’s assigned us a first year he can trust.
“You’re over stepping.” Violet sneers at him. I admire the girl and her courage.
”You haven’t begun to see overstepping,” he warns as his voice drops and he leans towards Violet. “Any threat against you is a threat against me, and as we’ve already established, I have more important things to do than sleep on your floor.”
I hold back the laugh as Violet’s cheeks flush. “He is not sleeping in my room.”
“Of course not.” He smirks at her before looking between the two of us. “I had him moved. His room now between both of yours. Wouldn’t want to overstep.”
He turns on his heel and walks away, heading back to his place at the front of the formation. I glare after him. Overstepping my ass. He reminded me so much of our father it that moment it wasn’t funny.
“Fucking mated dragons.” Dain seethes. And for once I couldn’t agree with Dain more. Fucking. Mated. Dragons. And fucking over protective brothers and whatever Garrick and I were now. I would have to find them both later.
Normally our formation would finish after Fitzgibbons finished the announcements. But Panchek takes the podium, fumbling with the codex in his hands. He had only made a few appearances at morning formation, usually reserving it for something important. My eyes move to the front of our formation to see Xaden and Garrick talking. This is about last night. About the cadets that attacked Violet and I.
A hush settles over our squad as Panchek looks over the courtyard. “It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred. As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated. This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward.”
My squad bickers around me, but I block it out as I shift my eyes back to where Xaden stands. Where Xaden starts to walk towards the dais and starts to climb the stairs. I feel Violets panic set in as she realises this is about us.
We turn and look at each other at the same time. “This is about us.” We whisper as Dain looks at the two of us.
I look to Xaden at the top of the Dais and can’t help but see our father. The way Xaden’s presence takes up the entire stage, capturing the entire quadrant is exactly like our father. If it wasn’t for what was about to happen, I would probably cry. Our father would be so proud to see Xaden handling himself as he had done.
“Early this morning, two riders in my wing were brutally and illegally attacked in their sleep with the intent of murdering both of them by a group of unbonded riders.”
The rotunda is filled with murmurs and gasps at his words. The other wings all starting at fourth wing. Everyone in my squad turns to look at Violet and I who both have our eyes focused on Xaden. The unbonded had all been killed by Xaden and I. Their deaths already announced. Someone had gotten away.
”As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonourable, is a capital offense.”
Xaden stares at both of us now, every one following his gaze. Everyone in the quadrant is looking at us. They all know Violet and I were the targets of the murder attempt.
”Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders.”
I watch as Garrick and Bodhi both break formation and join Xaden up on the dais. One standing either side of Xaden. Garrick’s eyes immediately find mine.
”As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran. The three of us witnessed one of the victims Ophelia Riorson take out the last one.”
I hold my head high as everyone looks at me. I need to show a strong front. I need to show I am not to be messed with. I am glad Xaden leaves the part of my signet manifesting out.
”But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived. A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be bought to swift justice.”
Violet must have seen who it was. They must have been part of the attack on her room. I had only seen on rider in mine and had disposed of them swiftly. I feel Mealladh in my mind. She was close. She was not alone either. This was about to get ugly.
”I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail and Cadet Riorson.” Everyone hanging on Xaden’s words as he turns his focus to the centre of the formation. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”
Chaos rips through the crowd. I barely hear it as I stare over at Amber. I barely had anything to do with her. The only time I really recall having anything to remotely do with her was when Violet had made it up the Gauntlet. She had questioned her methods causing Xaden and Garrick to defend Violet. But besides that I had only seen her around the quadrant. I’m knocked from my thoughts as Violet stumbles into me as she avoids Dain’s out stretched hands.
”Give me the memory.” He orders. Or tries to order from her.
Violet holds her head high as she stares him down. “Touch me without permission, and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
I can’t help but feel proud of Violet. Since being here she had developed a back bone. Something I didn’t think possible. I never thought I would see her stand up to Dain like that. But why was she so scared of him touching her? Then I remember the signet on his uniform. A secret signet. Could he read memories? Xaden orders the other two wingleaders to join him on the Dais to make a decision. I feel Mealladh’s presence as she and six other dragons fly over the rotunda before landing on their perch. I look around and note all the wingleaders dragon’s as well as Tairn and Panchek’s green Clubtail. Dain turns to Violet and I with a pleading look. But the glare I send him startles him as he shifts his full focus to Violet. He knows there is no hope in convincing me to stop this. His only hope is Violet. I can tell she is torn on letting this happen or stopping it. I know she will want to find another way to punish Amber.
Amber glares and shouts at Xaden. “You’re using this to get your revenge on my family! For not supporting your father’s rebellion.”
Every marked ones eyes turn to amber. Anger and hatred in them. A low blow. Especially to Xaden who stands before her, and me who she had tried to kill. But Xaden keeps his mask up as he turns to the other wingleaders.
Tairn is going to show what happened to Violet. Do you want me to do the same? Mealladh asks. I will keep your signet safe.
My signet safe? I look up at her next to Tairn and I know she knows I’m confused but its a conversation we can have later. I nod at her. I watch as the dragons around us stiffen, their riders quick to follow. Everyone now knows what Amber did. What she co-ordinated. And now she would die for it.
Xaden steps forward, flanked by Nyra and Septon. ”The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement. We find you guilty Amber Mavis.”
“No!” Her scream echoing around the rotunda as she looks around for help. “It is no crime to rid the quadrant of the weakest rider and a threat!” She turns to Violet and I, pointing at me. “And everyone thought she was dead anyway! I did it to protect the integrity of the wings!”
Garrick steps forward next to the wingleaders at Amber’s comment about me. And he is furious. Even from here I can feel the intensity of his gaze, and know he will have that tick in his jaw. As if we all share a collective thought, everyone standing in the rotunda steps back. Preparing for what is to come.
”And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire.” Nyra states. Amber’s face going pale.
”No! Claidh!” She turns to her dragon for help.
I feel her presence, an orange figure in my head. I reach out and feel her panic. Her last hope is her dragon. Her last strength. She’s calling out for her last hope. Hope that will never come. I retract from her mind, not wanting to feel what is to come. My heart breaks as Violet pleads to Xaden. But he doesn’t acknowledge it. If she lives, it shows others they can try the same thing. It puts her and I in danger. He can’t risk it. Cause if he does, it is his life on the line.
Tairn and Mealladh both lean forward over the dais towards Amber. In a split second their teeth part and a wave of excruciating heat washes over the rotunda. Amber is nothing but a pile of Ash on the ground as Claidh mourns.
Taglist: @riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey
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jeannyanswers · 3 days
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Love what youre doing in this blog <3
Do you have any tips of staying organised, specifically keeping a tidy wardrobe and desk? Usually it takes me a long time to clean but normally whenever I finally tidy the things they never stay that way for long..
Thank you o2studies ♥️
I’m always really happy to hear that people are enjoying my stuff and it’s helpful to them!
I also really relate to struggling to keep your space organized as I used to struggle with that a lot when I first moved out. So I collected some tips that helped me and I hope they will do so for you too.
General tips:
Find a place for everything: The most important step in staying organised is to create an organization system that works for you. I think the things you need to keep in mind are 1. where do you need your things? 2. where is it easy to grab your things from? If you found a place that accomplishes both these points, try to keep your things in
Containers!: Putting things in containers prevents them from just laying around and thus reduces visual clutter. You can also just have a bucket where you put things that you need to put away later -> makes the tidying-up-process less overwhelming. This works both with containers for pencils and papers on your desk and for organizers in your closet
Put things away after using them: This is ofcourse one of the most basic tips, but it can be very helpfull to keep your place tidy. If you put things away after using them they don’t pile up.
Take time every day to de-clutter: If the last tip doesn’t work for you try this instead. For me this time used to be after coming home from school and now its in the morning before I start studying. Instead of taking a lot of time to clean everything, take a little time each day to for example put away the papers you worked on or the clothes you wore yesterday
Desk organization tips:
Keep only what you need on you desk: A cluttered workspace can be distracting and make it difficult to focus on the task at hand. It’s also helpful too keep open desk space, so you have space to work.
-> Keep things you need often nearby: Keeping the things you need most near your dominant hand makes it easier to grab them. This also makes it easier to put them back where they belong and you don’t have to shuffle things around because they’re hard to reach
Utilize your wall space, the space under your desk and stack vertically: A floating shelve/a pegboard or drawer organizers can be helpful to have more storage space and stacking things vertically is a more efficient use of space
Organize your desk according to your work process: Again if things already are where you need them to be, you don’t need to put them back and it’s also just more efficient. For example; a lot of people work from left to right, so they put documents they need to work on on the left of their desk and the documents they finished working on on the right
Wardrobe organization tips:
Clean out your closet: It can be hard to keep your wardrobe organized, when it’s overflowing so start off with downsizing and decluttering. Selling some off your stuff on websites like Poshmark or eBay or donate it to give it a second live
-> Make future clean outs easier: Place a distinct (i.e., brightly colored) hanger at the front of each section of your closet. Every time you wear something and wash it, hang it up in front of that hanger. After a few months, it’ll be pretty easy to see what got worn and what didn’t
-> Pack away seasonal clothing: Try to store the clothes you don’t need at the time somewhere else (like in another storage space/boxes or vacuum packs) to make place in your wardrobe
Create Zones: You could divide items by type, by color or based on how frequently you use them. Put high-use items in the front so they’re easy to grab and you don’t have to go through all your things. Zones also help to get an overview of everything you have so you again don’t have to go through everything
=> Hope that helped, thanks for the question!
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inkskinned · 5 months
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am i gonna put you in the book acknowledgements am i gonna be able to say your name without flinching am i ever gonna get a word in edgewise am i ever gonna recover the time i spent with you. computer virus kid; i arrived in your life already begging to be let in. somehow insecure i could even be your friend. like you had a line outside the door and we were all shifting our weight, begging.
you're so fucking good at that - at making people feel like they need to earn you, like you're a commodity none of us can afford. no kindness or careful communication could work on you - you were so good at just going-ghost, about deciding someone just wasn't cool-enough. something about that is super ironic. even the parts of it that weren't romantic felt like a romance book. i wanted you to like me so badly i scrubbed myself clean just so you'd spare me - what. your favor? a look?
okay okay okay. it's just a friendship - if it was even true that we were friends, if you even saw me as someone you trusted. on reddit someone would tell me girl literally just cut her out of your life, it's not that difficult. even i was aware of how fucked up the whole situation was. like, why the fuck do i even care about your approval? you're like, not even that fun to be around. you are often a little bit cruel.
but for almost four years of my life, i thought i had found someone like me. somebody who liked the same things i do. someone who liked to read and who liked making jokes with esoteric references and who spent maybe too much time on the internet and who was absolutely a little bit pretentious. i don't know, something about that was powerful and addictive.
i keep thinking about our last conversation. about how i said - okay, enough is enough. you pushed me too far, you really hurt my feelings.
and how you laughed and said - you think you're the victim?
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northern-passage · 2 years
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hey. have you all heard about this. they’re making a squid game reality tv show. like an actual squid games. have you heard about that. did you hear about amazon also planning a disco elysium tv series, and a life is strange tv series? of course we already have rings of power and then over on HBO we have the last of us and then wherever that shit halo show is streaming. and don’t forget all the star wars spin offs whose taglines are “the revolution will be televised” while being streamed by one of the worst media companies of all time who uses their billions of dollars to support bigots in the government and create military propaganda. have you heard about the booktok industry plant? have you heard about that author who gets their agent to spoon-feed them tropes so they can write the most soulless, bland fanfic that they can then repackage as a YA novel (she’s a new york times best-selling author btw) have you heard about all of that?
the creative industry is so discouraging right now. sometimes i really struggle to find any motivation at all when i see the way certain stories are treated - completely bastardized, milked for all their worth (and then beaten like a dead horse just for good measure) or otherwise you have creators that clearly could not care less, nothing but a cash grab with a pretty coat of paint, usually piggybacking off of trends or just using a pre-existing media (because then you already have a pre-existing fanbase. easy money!) and i’m not going to pretend like i understand how all of it works, what the process is from book/game to movie deal to netflix show but i will say i hate that this is the “goal” now, that this seems to be the expectation with so much art these days, whether the creator wants it or not.
it’s all just so... bleak.
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urlocallesbiab · 5 months
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sorry to everyone who's been missing me/waiting for something from me, i've been slipping in and out of depressive fog for a week or two (and in general have experienced significantly worse depression than normal for a couple years, but that’s another story)
i long to get back, too; a lot of things to read and ideas to write and people to talk to. love y'all, take care
#signed: vika's ghost#also i've caught a cold so there's that too#terribly sorry for being overdramatic i'm just... tired of being tired and i wanted to talk about it a little bit#it's very important for me to talk about everything that's wrong with me. i tend to avoid that but now i'm trying to learn and to make peace#creative drive and ability to hold thought-out conversations keep slipping out of my graps and it kinda hurts more#— in a good cathartic sort of way but painful nonetheless — to remember what they felt like at all#i miss wanting to work on my wip and i miss having the attention span to write out headcanon and i miss having headcanons#and i miss talking to my fandom friends#(i did it just last week but i already miss it. it's one of the things i'd like to be able to do every day)#and i miss the ability to connect with art and i miss the ability to focus on written word and i miss commenting#and i miss discussing ideas and i miss interacting and i miss having fun. god i just miss having fun.#kp my apologies for not making much progress on bb&b; myself my apologies for not writing any of my other wips or outlines or posts;#da gc gang my apologies for not following up on any of the things; every fic writer whose work ended up in my to-read pile IM SORRY#jack & kp specifically i love your stuff#also jack my apologies for taking a While; & the rd gc apologies for never writing out any of the cool au thoughts i'd had after some point#really,i've been meaning to. everything requires way too much effort. everyone is so fun and i miss having fun#take care,remember me fondly,i'll be back,please stand by#if tomorrow morning i find this embarrassing i'll chalk it up to a fever or something.#idc i'm allowed to have it. world won't blow up if i'm embarrassing on the internet once or twice or honestly even forever#vikarambles#vent
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thedreadvampy · 6 months
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idk I had a very interesting therap today but I just
like it's all very well to recognise that I gotta have a fucking open-ended breakdown and jump face first into the Sadness Bog sometimes instead of sitting on all my feelings
but like
I still have to go to work, you know? it's like. ok yeah have a breakdown which like until you jump into it you don't know if it's going to last an hour or a year. yeah go ahead that's all grand. you do have to get up in the morning and go to work though. you're not allowed to not do that. or to not pay the rent or not shower or not eat.
like all my friends and loved ones are constantly like 'you know you're allowed to be sad right' and it's like. AM I??? because I STILL HAVE TO PAY RENT.
#red said#the thing my therapist keeps pointing out is like. i got on this adulthood thing WAY too early#metaphorically i have Had To Go To Work In The Morning since i was like. 4. bc i am congenitally incapable of#Not Thinking About Consequences. and it's so important to be Good and Tough and Have It Together#but like. maybe if id done more crying and melting down when i DIDN'T Have To Go To Work In The Morning bc i was a Literal Infant#i might be a more balanced adult now that i actually DO. Have To Go To Work In The Morning.#what do people like. do. when they have to have feelings but also meet adult responsibilities? impossible. gotta choose.#i think it doesn't help that i already really struggle to work a full time job. like I'm already late basically every day bc i a night guy#so it's like. there's no give in this. maybe if i was back into a 3-4 day week? but idk if i can afford that#but also the work is only partly work. it's also like. having human relationships. eating. washing. being a person.#but idk. like. until i have some genuinely open-ended time i think I'm gonna always find it impossible to actually let go#i said in therapy it's like. like sadness specifically is like a thick muddy bog. and i can dip a foot in it#but bc i know i need to be able to keep moving#i can only stick a foot in and deal with a bit of it if I'm holding onto something. so in practise i can only cry#right before it becomes inappropriate to cry. so like. end of a therapy session. heading to a train station after seeing someone.#that kind of thing. it's a safety thing.#it would be much more effectively Dealing With to go dive into the bog and plough through it#but I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG THAT'LL TAKE and i have to like. come out all muddy and deal with that#and there's always somewhere i gotta be soon. i can't just jump into the mud. not cause I'll get hurt i just Don't Have Time#anyway. feelings. how do they work. embarrassed about having them. embarrassed about suppressing them. generally just embarrassed.
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baynton · 1 year
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Ariel Conroy in You, Me and the Apocalypse (2015) | 1x02: An Erotic Odyssey #when his ocd is so bad he can't even touch a counter without wearing gloves
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leascno · 1 year
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not to kpop post on main but!! this hairstyle on yoongi is like….. the mental image i have whenever i draw enjolras 😳
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earl-grey-love · 8 months
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I have logged into NB every single day since release. That's commitment.
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elytrafemme · 9 months
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there are two days in the upcoming week where i have to wake up at like 8 am and one of those days is tomorrow. life is really hard for me 
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deus-ex-mona · 1 year
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tfw you get instant karma for calling this cat jeffrey >:(
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briarhips · 2 years
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Woke up this morning and one of my first 5 thoughts was “I did all my work as I was supposed to for two entire months and now I have to go back and redo a not insignificant chunk of it when I could be doing more productive worthwhile things during my shift bc the new manager has neither spine nor brains. Ofc I’m upset why shouldn’t I be upset!”
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loveofmylouis · 2 years
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#i missed all of the discourse this morning but its still heavy on my mind#for someone to say that louis needs to do a certain thing in order to support or validate that queer community just really breaks my heart#im not going to get into it not being his responsibility or into his closet#but saying that completely invalidates all of the 'smaller' things he has done throughout the years that not only show his support for the#community but also shows he is proud of his own sexuality#i feel like some that weren't here at the time dont realize how big of a deal it was for louis to have a rainbow on his shirt at the time#it was huge for the gay fans it may seem like a small gesture to some but it was the opposite#even if he hadnt acknowledged a rainbow project or the flags during otb it was such an important thing to even happen#people wouldn't bring their flags to a show if they didn't feel safe and louis made everyone feel safe without even saying anything and i#feel like people ignore that#it's just so belittling to who louis is as a person when they say oh he needs to do this for the community because this other thing he did#wasn't enough#he didn't have to wear those rainbows when he was being painted as homophobic everyday#he didn't have to write and release otb that so so many queer people resonate with#even just pointing at a flag in the crowd or telling a fan thanks for the flag love he didn't have to do that stuff#but he still did and whether it was for himself or for his large gay fanbase its still so important#and if those gestures are too small for you or you think that he needs to do more to validate you i think that's more a fault of yourself#rather than a fault of louis#okay i just had to get my thoughts out I'm done#and to clarify i dont think any of these gestures are 'small' gestures i think they're all incredibly important#but some seem to believe they're not big enough
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