#writing coms

[commsbyron]

I'm still working on the rules and characters, but I'll give you guys a snapshot of everyone so far so yall can see what we're working with.

I'm thinking it can be like x oc, x reader, character interactions, letters, and more.

Payment'll be Chime or CashApp, that I know for sure.

It's a work in progress and there's a lot of Channing Tatum on here 😬

[pink-writer-girl]

A Moth's Pursuit

Commission I did for Friend on Instagram Rotating Dendro

Warning ⚠️: Has non-explicit nudity and violence

Alfred sat in his dark Murcourt home for the longest time, nervously questioning the steps he was about to take. The auburn-haired man spent his days solving crimes and using his inheritance to finance his research. After his humiliating encounter with a Mirage cryptid, he couldn’t help but develop an obsession with them. What were they? Where did they come from? One foggy morning trolly ride would end up answering his questions. He’d never left London before, let alone think of ending up somewhere like Pale City, where the technology was so advanced. The atmosphere was shrouded in mystery and he thought his dreams were finally coming true. Eventually, Alfred found out from the other locals about how this place brought those who needed to be there to it.

Though it took him a while to get used to the new tech, he found that many cryptids that lived alongside other humans. Usually, he tried to avoid social situations unless it interested or benefited him, ‌but fish out of water had no such luxuries. The thought of mixing with the uncultured and annoying folk filled him with dread, regardless. It was then he realized that coming to Pale City was a one-way trip, well, sort of. Someone had warned once him you left ‌the trolley might not return unless you were a cryptid. He couldn’t risk going back to his mundane life.

Living in a different realm posed unique problems, lack of access to his family’s fortune being one of them, so he offered his services to the local police. Thankfully, Alfred’s consultant skills were in demand. Something about a renowned detective called “M” or whatever. He didn’t pay attention to as long as he got paid. It wasn’t enough, and the pittance barely lined his wallet. He needed to live how he used to, so he tried his hand at investments and business deals, like his father did. Unlike his father, it seemed he wasn’t very lucky in the business outlook, however. He owed people money… a lot of money.

Last week, one of those “associates” sent a brief message to pay up, which ended with him getting a black eye and bruised ribs. Even legal investments were biting him in the ass. So, being the desperate man that he was, Alfred looked for other options. After some extensive research, he found an old urban legend of a creature of shadow that lived in the woods. This creature was not to be trifled with unless you wanted to make a deal with it, which he did. Considering his precious life was on the line, he had no qualms about the price.

The man ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. It was now or never, looking at the circle and deer skull in the middle of the room. Bringing a lit match towards the circle, he dropped it in the skull, enkindling the rotting cedar wood and nightshade within. “From the shadows, I call you forth” was all he whispered as the embers changed to green and purple. He blinked, taken aback by the color, as the blackening smoke floated up until it formed a suspended shadow. Alfred retreated back as his caution grew. “Oh dear God…” he said under his breath.

“Now I wouldn’t consider myself that,” Alfred was filled with terror as an eerie voice echoed in various pitches and tones. “But a devil? I think might be the right definition,” it chuckled right behind his ear. The Englishman quickly spun around to see a dark figure resembling a rotting buck of sorts. Nervous sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to find words. “Did you lose your voice along with your reason for summoning me?” the creature said, moving across the room and looking around.

“Y-You’re a wendigo?” Alfred stuttered.

The creature just scoffed. “No, those are spirits of the damned who feasted on the flesh of their kind in life. I was never mortal.” It was clear by its irked tone that it had been mistaken for one more than once. “You’re trying my patience. If you summoned me for idle chit chat—” I need you to kill someone!” the auburn-haired man said, cutting it off curtly. “Well, a couple of someones.”

The deer creature’s dark eyes blinked before it grinned. “The same old sin? Very well,“ the creature laughed. “But you know,“ the creature said before getting in the man’s face, “my deals always come with a price.” Its gaze grew intense as it stared him down. “I know, I know,” Alfred nodded while trying to lean away. “What is your price?” The creature hummed, looking over at the computer. “Not anything too extreme, don’t worry. I’m feeling very generous today because I’m been so bored,” the creature said, walking toward the computer. “I want to try something new, and you will shelter me while I have my fun.”

Alfred’s eyes widened at this. “Wait what?!” He gasped as he watched horrified as the shadow creature morphed into a pale man with dark hair. The process wasn’t quick though, and he even heard the bones and viscera crack and bubble I disgusting way it did. “Ah, that’s better.” A young man’s voice replaced the distorted one as it cracked its knuckles. It turned back to Alfred, who was left without words.

“I’m sorry sir—”

“You can call me Liminal,” the now-man said, standing before him. It was then it occurred to him Liminal was naked. The human averted his eyes as the naked man ransacked his drawers. “Liminal, why does someone as powerful as you need shelter?” he asked as the naked man sat cross-legged on the man’s bed lazily. “There’s those in this town who have an army can destroy me. I alone can’t defeat an army of cryptids,” he said grimly. “Are you talking about M and his group? They’re gone. They disbanded after he and his right-hand man disappeared,” Alfred said with a raised brow.

Liminal glared at the wall, hearing M’s name. That bastard was the reason he had to hide in the woods for so long. Isolated because of his strict restrictions, he had almost gone insane from it. “Yes, but his followers are still strong and have revived with his assistance.” He turned his head to Alfred, who was still looking away awkwardly at the naked man. Liminal smirked, amused. “Like what you see?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Can you please put clothes on?‘’ Alfred begged.

In the heart of Pale City laid the heart of Dog Head headquarters, a division for crime investigation. The lingering remnants of those who believed in the laws of M, since his disappearance. One of those was raised by his orphanage was Murgatroyd, a cryptid of mysterious origin with a body of a man and head of a German shepherd. Since technology advanced in the real world and Pale City, rogue cryptids had been running wild, violating M’s number one rule: ‘keeping the balance.’ They understood no cryptid could always keep their base instincts at bay, but the threat of exposure hung overhead if they would get out of control. Their city—no, everyone would be in trouble.

Murgatroyd rubbed his brows as he walked along the desks of agents busy at work. The task force had been pulling all-nighters for weeks now, because of the recent ‘computer virus’ case. Ten people had been found dead so far, their faces mangled and distorted. It was clear it couldn’t be the work of any human. At first, it seemed like something targeting businessmen who were involved with investments or under-the-table loan sharking. They had thought this curse had something to do with a former client or a poor investment. But once the next string of bodies broke the M.O., they’d hit a dead end.

“Can no one tell me what the fuck is going on!” The dogman raised his voice as he turned around to face them all. “Sir, we’re trying to track the strain, but the encryptions change every few seconds. Like it is actively protecting itself, somehow,” one of them said. “What do we have then?” He asked. “From what we can tell, the virus curse is being spread by prize email. It’s somehow able to outsmart the spam blockers of multiple ESPs.”

“Ugh, Sylphie, what do you have?” Murgatroyd asked his best agent. When he didn’t hear a response, he blinked, looking over at her area. There sat a voluptuous woman, wearing designer brands and a full face of makeup with sparkly orange French-tipped nails. It was clear she had not heard a thing her boss said. The dogman shook his head while Sylphie continued taking selfies of herself, the camera flash bouncing off her long cream-colored hair.

The older man shook his head before going over to her desk. “Sylphie, grow your vanity project on your own time,” he told her in a serious tone. “Oh hey, Chief,” she said, just realizing he was there. “Were you able to crack the encryption?” He asked again. It was the fashionable girl who leaned over and began quickly typing on the keyboard. She might not of looked it, but Sylphie was the best seasoned IT agent they had. “I was able to redirect my little virus back into the source code, sort of like echolocation,” she said as her long nails clicked against the keys.

Sylphie pulled away to face Murgatroyd, who had bent over to look at her monitor. "Hmmm, good work. Does that mean you pinpointed where it’ll strike next?" he asked, nodding. “It was tricky, but whoever it is hiding in the older buildings on the outskirts of town. I could only pull the general surrounding area,” she told him, wheeling her swivel chair back and forth. “Sylphie, you’re Mothman’s cousin, right? Why don’t you use your powers to ‘see the future?’” one coworker asked, wondering why she was making things more complicated.

The cream-haired cryptid looked at the man and deadpanned. “Ok, for one, nimrod, I’m not related to him. Yes, we’re the same species, but he’s of a different clan. Two: I don’t have premonition ability.” Sylphie was a moth cryptid, having lost most of her family and clan at a young age. She had to resort to a life of crime to survive. No one had been harmed by her, not intentionally, anyway. Usually, she used her mind manipulation to scam people out of their money. Only a few of her species were gifted with abilities of premonition. She, unfortunately, didn’t inherit it, which is also why there were very few left of her kind. Humans had hunted them to be used as a tool for their gain. Too blinded by greed and ignorance to know only a few possessed such abilities.

Her boss hummed in thought, “Sylphie, I want you to check this area. Maybe you can locate the location of the signal if you are closer,” Murgatroyd told her before leaving. This caused the moth girl to blink, then nod in agreement.

It didn’t take the curvy cryptid long to find the place. From what she found from town records, someone lived out here, in the house far off from the abandoned buildings. Pretty smart to hide in plain sight in what most thought was abandoned. Sylphie had used a program on her phone to track the signal, grumbling that her feet were killing her. Of all the days to wear heels. “I’m going to murder whoever the culprit is if my Prada heels get ruined,” she hissed under her breath as she slammed the door open of the house.

“Oh c’mon, that’s not very nice,” a voice said, coming up from the top of the stairs. Her face contorted into a frown when she saw a young man leering down at her. “Thought I was going to have to ask your ‘nightly rates’ with you looking like that,” he chuckled as he started down. She glared at him as she covered her chest with a hand, noticing his wandering gaze. “You pig,” she hissed.

“Oh, more like a demon, my dear.” His eyes seemed to radiate darkness as he spoke. The moth woman’s antenna popped out in alarm at this. She couldn’t help but sense an eerie tension in the air. “You… I thought your kind was gone,” she said as her wings slowly revealed themselves. He blinked, taken aback by her appearance, but quickly smirked. “And I thought yours was extinct,” he chuckled. “Tell me, did you predict I would be here?” he said, interested. “I don’t have premonitions,“ she told him simply. “Hmmm, pity,“ he then said with a bored look.

“You need to leave. Your activity is causing too much ruckus and messing up the balance. You’re going to get us all exposed,” she told him seriously as he walked around in circles. “You know as well as I that once I’m in a contract, I can’t do anything until I fulfill it,” he said as shadow manifested into his hand, only to reveal a boba drink. "But why should I care either way? I’ve been so bored for so long now. Why not have some fun?" he smirked darkly.

“I’m not like your kind, who made their abilities known and were hunted down like dogs. Is that what happened to your family? Were they are drawn to a pretty flame?“ Sylphie could no longer contain her rage as her human form was lost to emerging claws and fur. “Bite your tongue,” she hissed in an unnatural tone, eyes darkening.

Liminal blinked for a couple of seconds before he found his body moving by itself. He began slowly biting down on his tongue, harder and harder, until he could taste blood. His eyes widened in shock, causing Sylphie’s lips to curl into a satisfied smirk. “Bend yourself backward,” she ordered. He did without question, causing a sickening crack followed by a loud groan of pain. “You have mind manipulation?” A deep laugh accompanied his statement, leaving her perplexed.

“Very clever,” he said, pulling himself straight up, shocking her. “But I’m much older and much more experienced than you, my dear,” he said, charging at her. Both of them crashed into each other, with Liminal using shadows and teeth to swipe at her. Sylphie hissed, trying to use her manipulation again, but realized his mind was too strong. She did her best to get out her phone with the kill-switch, struggling to reach her knocked-away purse. She barely missed it by millimeters before being able to grab it. With a quick press of buttons, she activated the code, which let out a high-pitched creepy sound. It caused Liminal’s shadowy form and voice to distort as he stumbled in pain. “You whore!” He yelled madly, his body melting into a puddle of mush.

“I prefer bitch,” Sylphie said, sitting up wiping the blue blood from her lip while trying to fix her hair. “You deserved it after the trouble you caused, disrupting the balance. Do you realize what you’ve done? There’s so little of us left!” she said, grabbing at his rendered body. “M is gone! He was the only one keeping cryptids from going extinct, yet you had to cause trouble,” she yelled. “You have no idea what it’s like to face extinction! To lose everything!“

Liminal glowered at her. “I don’t know what it’s like? You know nothing, you brat!” My kind has been here longer than most cryptids combined. The forests were our home, guiding the souls of the damned to their fates, helping keep the balance. We got our strength from the spirit of nature!” He yelled at her, panting furiously. “But you know what happened… Man happened. They were still stupid, no doubt, but they grew more resourceful and greedy, cutting down our forests! Capturing us to make deals or use as attack dogs. We had to adapt to a new way to survive! Making deals with humans to do their sins…” Liminal said, looking down as he closed his eyes. Anger and sorrow wracked his frame as his hands shook. “It didn’t matter, though. We lost not only our home but our strength to where everyone in my clan withered away.”

Sylphie let go, looking at him for the longest time as his human form reassembled. “Why don’t you get a new purpose, then?” She said, earnestness clear on her face. “Work for my organization. If you do, you’ll be free. Do you want to be trapped in contracts to survive forever?” Liminal raised a brow at that, blinking before he let out a sigh. “Whatever. It’s this or death, so I think I’ll choose the alive option.”

-Fin

[thesorrowfulempress]

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade and his kitty princess

[waltricia]

3x02 — How Bright the Moon

[proxycrit]

I interrupt my zelda posting with caitvi because Arcane changed my brain chemistry

(ight, now i go back on hiatus! If you want to see my sketchbook which I WILL be posting until the day I wither, check out patreon! Now excuse me as i crawl back into my warm little den)

((Im also currently significantly more active on my instagram posting commission work, if you wanna see it :0))

Edit: ah dang it the hyperfixation’s set in.

[cuppajj]

Celestial Kingdom Energy Department notes on “The Sarcophagus” - written at behest of Her Unconquerable Celestial Cheese Cookie and approved by Lead Supervisor Goggles Cheesebird

The energy cell is, as designed, a containment device built-to-request for the spoil - identified as client [READ: Unknown Origin - under review by Chronicler] retrieved by the Queen. Its purpose is to serve as a primary energy distribution and conservation chamber for the continued efforts of Kingdom Restoration and Revitalization, linked to [citation needed] sectors AA, AB and AC of the kingdom’s grid. The energy cell is comprised of an outer shell to which the External Links from the processing facility are connected, as well as the machinations for diagnostics and wellness. The front hatch folds back to reveal the inner chamber where the spoil is housed.

The Soul Jam identical to Her Radiance is stored in the inner chamber. Subject (ID:) “Burning Spice Cookie”, currently in possession of the artifact, is subdued and preserved along with it. Ample care is required to uphold the stability of the contents of The Sarcophagus, therefore, as the Soul Jam’s unintelligible power must be siphoned and processed evenly to ensure equal energy distribution. As the host of the outlier Soul Jam has access to this power, procedures have been established to keep it in a state of stability. Currently the subject is in continuous stasis, with wellness diagnostics run once per day to monitor its function. Motion and sound are absent. Subject is in good health [visible aberration has been ruled correlative to procedure] and remains cooperative. (ADDENDUM: recent conscience tests uncovered a change in behavior: while the body is dormant, the mind fluctuates between varying degrees of awareness. Further research by Her Radiance is being conducted.) When running diagnostics, the inner chamber is exposed and lowered to a more accessible position. At all other times the inner chamber is concealed by the external shell.

Additional Notes:

Her Unconquerable has separated research on “Burning Spice Cookie” from the Soul Jam itself. For future reference, matters of the Soul Jam are under jurisdiction of the Energy Department, while anything regarding its host is reserved for the Queen herself. Wellness diagnostics are to ensure the Soul Jam remains in a stable medium. Additionally, information regarding the acquisition of the Soul Jam and its medium are to be kept classified. [Please remain aware of the aforementioned visible aberration (needs citation) present on the subject’s right arm; its magic does not seem to respond to the energy cell’s mechanics. Research will be conducted if requested.]

Please alert Her Radiance of any changes in the subject’s behavior. Ignore deviations when she is present. Soul Jam research will be forwarded to her as well. Once the medium is no longer deemed valuable, please separate it from the Soul Jam. [Estimated time until then is uncertain - retain this information regardless.]

Consult Maintenance if distribution affects the servers.

Written and signed: Energy Department Review Team

[turtledotjpeg]

[brooke-hart]

Humans Are Weird: Marathons

Am I the only one that thinks marathons are weird??? Not because I hate running (which I do) or because of the way people lose toenails (gross) but because of the history of it!! (I do know this is a legend but I like to *think* it actually happened because what a way to rub it in this guy's face)

Human *stretching*: You don't stand a chance. I used to run cross country.

Other human *also stretching*: I've ran four marathons. I am not intimidated.

Alien: What is a marathon?

*Both humans turning, looking far too excited*

Human: it's a long distance run. It can be an accomplishment to finish one.

Other human: 26.2 miles. It's not easy.

Alien: That is...a specific amount.

Other human: Well, there was this guy that ran that far once to announce a victory in battle and he promptly fell over and died.

Alien: so you...run it regularly to prove he was weak?

Human *laughs*: Exaclty

Alien *eyes wide*: You are ruthless.

If you want to see more scenes like this, I have a Humans Are Weird book! It's a full-length sci fi rom com based around scenes just like this with an overarching storyline! You can get it here -> https://tinyurl.com/azvfr4fk

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i literally do not care about big emergencies on abc's 911. i want to see my characters talk to each other and have stories that are parallels to small, everyday (everyday for first responders) emergencies

[spoompls-shop]

Hey, you there.

Are you gay, tired, and ✨at your wit's end?✨

You should commission me!

Come on, you know you want to

[lonely-night]

Happiest Season 2.0: Agathario Riley/Eve

Riley returned to her hometown for Christmas and she met Eve who's visiting the small town that she randomly picked on map. After bumping to each other a few times, Riley suggested to take Eve to a gay bar to see a drag performance.

[pink-writer-girl]

Brothers Survival

Commission done for Sir Brandy

Warning ⚠️: mentions of blood

They were stranded, alone in the woods and in the dead of winter. The two men panted, the first of them, sitting against a shriveled tree, the rotting wood only preserved by the biting chill, the long, sharp branches covered in a mantle of thick snow, he clenched his teeth as he reached down, a sharp pain surging as he applied pressure of his side, the open and bruised wound palpitating under his touch, to make matters worse, the disparity on the elevated flesh might have meant he had cracked a rib, his glance briefly turning towards his partner, the younger man standing at his side and looking on at the far off distance, the clear semblance of the cold overcoming them replaced with a much more powerful fear occupying his thoughts…the fear of being caught.

The young man wiped away a few strands of sweat-covered dirty-blonde hair out his face and picked at the dirt that had entered his blue eyes, the opaque, blurred world around him, the great snow wasteland coming clear.

”Ok”, he said before letting out a rasped cough, long clouds of passing vapor coming from his lips with each cough as he struggled to formulate words, his open palm reaching to clasp his chest before turning to his brother, his hands trembling as he slowly rose them up for him to see, forming a series of signs, beginning with a single risen but trembling pinky, the appendage losing most of it’s color, being left in pale grey, then followed by rising his index finger and following with a circle, “I don't think we were followed" he signaled to his brother.

The older man nodded with a dry but satisfied and relieved smile at this, his fears dissipating and the suspicions, despite how much the two had traveled, banished, yet another his smile faltered as another pain surged through his body, cold, sharp, the man’s blue eyes widening at the pain …not only did he cracked a rib and bruised but he had broken his leg, forcing his younger brother had to carry him all the way…his younger brother..he couldn't help but feel guilty, he had lost his hearing but a few months back…forcing such responsibility upon him, the duty he was meant to carry on, eyes looking with pity to him

He didn't like being treated like this…like he was...Incapable.

He blinked looking towards his brother Zdenek, seeing him start to freak out “Look, we're separated from the team but we’re fine" he signed, “We’re gonna be fine…”, he added, trying to reassure him but obviously was doing a bad job at it, the younger man clearly unconvinced

"But we have no food, no water, you're injured and we have no supplies" the younger brother began to list off the negatives.

"Zdenek" he tried again but his brother didn’t pay attention to him, the signs continuing to get more panicked as fear consumed the younger man.

"No way of getting in contact with the team! We’re practically-," He began to sign to his brother, the way his hands moved was hitched, panicked, the careful grasp he had been taught to have over the newly taught sign language banishing, devolving into chaotic, practically meaningless.

" Ow!" the young man said looking towards his older brother who looked at him deadpanned.

“You were over reacting again" he told him plainly, this made the younger man sigh at this silently,

“I’m sorry," he signed.

"It's fine, I’m nervous too," he told him in sign, his gestures turning softer in an attempt to calm him, ”but all we can do now is move forward, all right? We need to find shelter”.

Hynek nodded at this, the young man approaching his older brother, kneeling down to help him to rise and lean on him but not before taking on last look behind them at the endless trees trying spot a life form but failed to do so, a sigh escaping his cracked lips, he hoped the others made out the ambush too.

-------

They had to get warm and fast...they already had started to feel the cold overcoming them, the state Hynek’s finger and his own exposed leg through the shredded pants, now almost devoid of all color and hardly moving letting them know it would not take much longer for frostbite to overcome them, Zdenek swallowing at merely thinking of this, the thought of losing the leg for good or his brother being more handicapped in his communication capabilities causing him to breath in a panic when his brother left him under a tree to get some wood...he could see his own breath as a clear cloud due to the drop of temperature…

He had lost all sight of time, his guess must have been of little more than half-an hour when he saw his brother coming out the woods carrying branches…well more like waddling due to the snow being so deep.

"These are the driest I could find," he signed his brother right after he dropped them in a pile.

He then pulled out a small, flint rock he had in his pocket and started to scrape it against a regular rock he found, a small rain of sparks emerging from the two, banishing seconds after in thin air, “C’mon…C’mon," he thought with a disgruntled face before looking around nervously.

“Hynek, calm down, if any of them were still out there they would have found us by now" his brother tried to reassure him, ”Besides, they’re not that stupid, they wouldn’t just go explore unknown territory”, he signed, “these woods go miles and miles and some parts no one has put on maps yet so where safe, for now”, he said wanting to calm him but also not to give his hopes up at well.

"That's what's worrying me though…." His younger brother signed"....how are the others supposed to find us?”, He questioned grimly.

There was a prolonged, uncomfortable moment of silence between the two upon his questioning, but a sudden, warm wave of warmth quickly snapped out of it when a spark lit one of the dried branches, right away the young man bent down to give it air before the cold foggy air snuffed it out, soon, the fire was lit and began to grow, Hynek opened his mouth and letting out a silent gasp, the young man jumping up excitedly but quickly changed his tune as the snow had gotten in his pants, hands reaching down and pulling it out in a shaky voice trying to get it out which made his older brother laugh.

The fire did help for a bit but eventually not even it could keep up with the freezing cold wind which snuffed it out quickly, the rising winds and the snow made it hard to bear it anymore "We need to leave!" Zdenek said to his brother who nodded quickly standing up while trying to block the hard wind from going into his eyes just then a loud howl could be heard making him freeze...wolves.

Hynek did waste more time grabbing his brother and dragging him through the frozen grounds, into the dark woods, they needed to find shelter now!

The young man panted looking back and forth desperate for anything at that point, he kept rushing nearly tripping due to the darkness...he could hear the howling getting closer...he was beginning to lose hope...was that was until he spotted it, a cabin far off...it was old, most of the wood covered in withered moss and to the point of decay and the glass windows shattered but it was better than nothing at the moment.

Dragging his brother with haste he went over to the door, kicking it down, the old wood almost giving in and splintering but not before pushing it shut he laid his brother in middle of the cabin in front of the old fireplace quickly starting a fire with Flint rock he had before rushing over to the bed grabbing the blankets to wrap it around his brother to keep it warm, reddish golden light filled the room as both bundled again the fire knowing they would survive the night

-Fin

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die. 

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 

- Shall we, my Lady? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art. 

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards. 

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 

[mischievous-thunder]

Initially, the only people who didn't know how far gone Logan and Wade were for each other were Logan and Wade themselves. Neither of them knew why there was a shift in their hearts or what to do with all of the raw emotions. So, they did the only thing they thought were good at. They fought their heart out.

The exact moment Wade realised that he was madly in love with Logan and would do anything for him was the very moment Logan had the exact same realisation. The moment Wade went inside to destroy the Time Ripper alone was when Logan felt completely lost. He used all of his power to get inside and be right by Wade's side.

The urgency in their tone and expressions, the way they tried so hard to sound casual to mask their true feelings and failed miserably, the way they were instantaneously ready to sacrifice themselves to save the other one point to the fact that their love is otherworldly. At this point saving the world and saving the other person became synonymous as they'd already become each other's entire world.

They didn't just save the world. The two broken men saved each other. After that, Wade had to introduce his new boyfriend and their dog to Althea. Oddly enough, domesticity does suit them exceptionally well.

[woof-verine]

guys I’m sorry I know everyone loves grumpy Wolverine (and I do too) but after he and Wade get together I think he is THE biggest user of pet names ever. like Logan is a flirt (see x1 and x2) and he’s possessive as all hell (see his animal disposition) and do NOT think I forgot about him calling Mariko ‘princess’ in The Wolverine, so..

you can’t tell me that he isn’t calling Wade ‘princess’ and ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ all the way to kingdom come, especially when he finds out how flustered it actually makes Wade when Logan flirts back.

like…. (accidentally wrote a ficlet below, good LORD that’s a lot of yapping for one post)

“Back from the grocery store, honey badger! Picked up those doggy diapers for our disgusting little cuntchkin that you asked me to get. Still don’t know why you said no to me just training her to pee on the neighbor’s doormat, though.”

There’s a yapping at his feet, and Wade sets the grocery bags on the counter, then leans down to rub the scabby head of the aforementioned cuntchkin. Logan is in the kitchen frying up something (smells like bacon? Wade doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but it really, really smells like bacon).

Logan takes the pan off of the stove — it is bacon, and Wade’s never been more excited in his life, not even when Gossip Girl announced their short lived 2021 reboot that immediately flopped — and wanders over to Wade, putting his hands on Wade’s hips to give him a kiss.

Wade doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. Some days, he can’t even believe he’s alive at all, much less that he’s alive in a world where he’s dating the god damn Wolverine.

“Thanks, princess,” Logan rumbles against his temple, arms wrapping further around Wade’s waist, keeping him there.

Wade does his best impression of a large, bald fish that just got pulled out of water and thrust onto dry land. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asks eventually.

“Thanks?” Logan says, taking a step back, confused.

“No, the other thing.”

“…Princess?” Logan tries.

“Yeah. What’s that about?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“No! No,” Wade says, backpedaling. He loves it, he just… he just… he doesn’t know what he thought. The whole pet names thing had always been his schtick, never Logan’s. Wade becomes aware of how hot his face is, of the flush that must be creeping up over his scarred cheeks.

“Ohhh,” Logan purrs, nice and low, stepping forward again to crowd Wade against the counter. Wade’s face heats even more. “You like it, princess?”

Wade swallows. This man is going to be the death of him.