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alavestineneas · 2 months

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i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being seen made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors. ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,'' Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods. ''I'll take you,'' it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there. ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,'' she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister? Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

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youremyheaven · 2 months

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Jupiter's Boundlessness: The Union of Good & Evil

Something I have noticed for a long time is how Jupiter natives often play multiple roles within a single project. Be it movies or music videos, I often see them channelling the boundlessness of Jupiter by literally embodying several characters. As Claire Nakti explored in her Jupiter makeover video, duality and transformation are huge themes in the lives of Jupiter natives. This duality is not just a light vs dark one but also a masculine versus feminine one. Jupiter women especially being internally masculine often channel this in different ways. But beyond the "duality" is the "multiplicity", because of their vast, internal spaciousness they feel as though they are many many different people with many different interests and abilities. This is why Jupiter natives are kind and generous because their vastness allows them to literally put themselves in the shoes of others but it can also feel very confusing and tiring. You stretch yourself that wide, you might snap, feel empty and burnt out because you feel so chained by being a very limited narrow definition of "you".

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

She plays both herself and her obsessive stalker (based on Eminem) in her MV for Obsessed

She fights the evil brunette version of herself in her MV for Heartbreaker

She also has an alter ego named Bianca who is the opposite of her and even speaks with a British accent lmao

Here is a clip of Mariah being interviewed by her alter ego Bianca

In fact, I'd say that having an alter ego is in itself kind of a Jupiterean experience since these natives embody duality or feel like they contain so many contradictory energies or that they're "opposites".

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon plays Miley and Hannah on Hannah Montana, a whole show that revolves around a girl trying to manage her alter ego.

Dua Lipa, Punarvasu Moon battles with her other self in her MV for IDGAF

Troye Sivan, Punarvasu Rising plays a female version of himself in the MV for his song One of Your Girls

Ruby Rose, Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising captures her transformation from a traditional feminine woman to her more butch androgynous self in Break Free

youtube

Destiny's Child's mv for Lose My Breath features the trio battling their alter egos. Beyonce- Vishaka Moon, Michelle- Punarvasu Moon and Kelly- Swati Rising

I'm including Swati placements as well because I think Swati also closely embodies this Jupiterean boundlessness or multiplicity

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon also has an alter ego named Sasha Fierce and like many Jupiter women who talk about wanting to be a man/embrace their masculinity/channel this in some way, she has a song called "If I Were A Boy"

Avril Lavigne, Swati Moon played multiple versions of herself in the MV for her song Girlfriend

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon and Swati stellium has such a wide ranging style, all their looks are completely unlike each other. I associate it with the chaos of Rahu more than Punarvasu but I do think the Jupiter influence also adds to it. They've also talked a lot about not identifying with gender/struggling with it and even has a song titled "I'm not a woman, I'm a god".

The Weeknd, Vishaka Moon, Punarvasu Rising

"The Weeknd" is the alter ego of Abel Tesfaye and he has talked about "killing his alter ego" many times

youtube

In this MV we see him battling his alter ego.

I think it's important to note that Jupiter natives are always battling their other half/shadow in all these examples. One is good and the other is bad. It points to the nature of Jupiter where all contradictions exist. Being that vast and expansive can mean being generous, compassionate etc but it can also mean feeling empty and vacuous. The extremes of anything is a meeting point for its opposite. Jupiter is abundance but its also the storehouse of karma. Do you notice how some people just have lives that are full of sooo many crazy experiences, both good and bad? Some people just don't have much going on and others always seem to be handled the short end of the stick. The bigger the planet, the bigger the shadow. The bigger the blessings, the bigger the burdens.

Suga's (Purvabhadrapada Sun) MV for Daechwita sees him play both king and peasant and both of them battle each other.

He also has multiple alter egos (SUGA & Agust D)

Here is a translation of some of the lyrics from the song:

"I got everything I wanted. What else can I have to be satisfied?

The things I wanted were clothes clothes, then money money, then goal goal, what’s after this?

What’s after this? Feeling a strong feeling of reality check, a situation where there’s nothing higher.

I had only looked up, now I just wanna look down and gently land."

Finding success meaningless is a VERY Jupiter experience. Abel sings about it a lot as well. Others work on accumulating things and its hard for them to imagine the kind of boundlessness of Jupiter, both in terms of latent potential but also in terms of the scale and expanse of what these natives achieve. If you had it all, would you find it empty and meaningless? I think a lot of Jupiter natives hold themselves back because of this, because they know the journey is more fun than the destination, that actually achieving your goals can be hella scary.

P!nk, Mars in Punarvasu atmakaraka battles herself in the MV for Don't Let Me Get Me

The lyrics go like:

"I'm a hazard to myself

Don't let me get me

I'm my own worst enemy

It's bad when you annoy yourself

So irritating

Don't wanna be my friend no more

I wanna be somebody else

I wanna be somebody else, yeah"

"So doctor, doctor, won't you please prescribe me something?

A day in the life of someone else"

The Jupiterean urge to be many people/somebody else is so revealing of their nature. They're always at odds with each other. Masculine & Feminine. Light & Shadow. Plus the boundlessness and abundance of Jupiter making you feel like you've transcended humanity and are akin to God (sooo many Jupitereans, esp men have a God complex its not even funny lol)

Its no wonder that so many Jupiter women often suffer from bipolar disorder. Bipolarity meaning swinging between extremes. This is literally the nature of Jupiter. Its a hard energy to balance.

(Mariah Carey & Halsey- Punarvasu Moon both have bipolar disorder, Kanye West- Purvabhadrapada Moon also has bipolar disorder Chyler Leigh- Vishaka Moon, Mel Gibson- Punarvasu Rising are all celebs who have admitted to suffering from bipolar disorder)

I am not a medical professional and neither am I going to assign mental disorders to different nakshatras BUT when I say imbalanced Jupiter energy manifests as bipolarity, I am pointing to the nature of Jupiter which makes its natives swing between extremes. Its a struggle to manage this and navigate this, no doubt.

Lisa Kudrow, Punarvasu Rising who played Phoebe and her evil twin Ursula

What's Your Rashee? is a 2009 Bollywood movie starring Priyanka Chopra, Punarvasu Sun who plays 12 different characters each representing a different rashi or zodiac sign

Kamal Hassan, Purvabhadrapada Moon played 10 different characters in the movie Dhashavataram (referencing the ten different avatars of Vishnu). He played the bad guy, the good guy and all the other guys.

This again points to not just the duality but also the multiplicity of Jupiter and literally being many different people.

Katy Perry, Vishaka Moon plays many different characters in her MV for Birthday

Vikram, Purvabhadrapada Moon plays 4+ different characters in the movie "I"

David Bowie, Jupiter in Vishaka atmakaraka, Shatabhisha Rising

Bowie had sooo many alter egos/personas, morphing from the flame-haired Aladdin Sane — a spin on “A Lad Insane” — to the clean-cut Thin White Duke with the greatest of ease. But his most famous alter ego was the androgynous alien rock star Ziggy Stardust who transported us to a glam galaxy far, far away in 1972 and 1973.

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

"Lady Gaga" is in itself an alter ego as is being Mother Monster but she also has a male alter ego named Jo Calderone. She became Jo Calderone for her “You and I” video in 2011. The singer even went to the MTV VMAs that same year as Jo, walking the red carpet, opening the show, performing and sitting in the audience as the character.

The 1991 movie Dead Again stars Emma Thompson, Punarvasu Moon and Kenneth Branagh, Mars in Punarvasu 1h as two people who have double lives/past lives, the plot in itself is super Punarvasu coded with the same people playing multiple characters across multiple timelines (Punarvasu's deity is the personification of space and time)

Lily Tomlin, Punarvasu Rising plays 3 different characters in the movie The Incredible Shrinking Woman

Tatiana Maslany, Punarvasu Rising played many many different characters on the show Orphan Black.

The series focuses on Sarah Manning, one of several genetically identical human clones, and later on some of the other clones. The series raises issues about the moral and ethical implications of human cloning and its effect on identity. I had previously observed in an old post about how Punarvasu & Swati are connected to cloning and this is yet another example of the boundlessness of these energies.

Tom Cavanagh, Swati Sun, Venus in Vishaka atmakaraka played 15 different versions of his character in The Flash

Rachel Weisz, Purvabhadrapada Moon played both Evelyn and Princess Nefertiti in The Mummy Returns

Hugo Weaving, Punarvasu Moon, Purvabhadrapada Stellium (mercury, venus and ketu) played 6 different characters in Cloud Atlas

In Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, Alex Winter, Punarvasu Sun & Keanu Reeves, Punarvasu Moon play their evil versions.

The plot itself is very Punarvasu coded with Bill & Ted, two metalhead slacker friends who travel through time and beyond while trying to fulfil their destiny to establish a utopian society in the universe with their music.

Deepika Padukone, Swati Moon and Shahrukh Khan, Swati Sun played double roles as lovers who are reincarnated in a different time.

Jupiter is the guru or teacher. To be many things is what Jupiter teaches. It is kind of like being God and if one were to raise philosophical questions, you'd have to ask why did God create both good and evil? Why did he create joy and misery? There is no other answer except that one cannot exist without the other. Jupiter embodies this.

I hope this post shed some light on one manifestation of the boundlessness of Jupiter<33

#astrology notes #astrology observations #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #nakshatras #astrology #vedic astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #jyotish #vedic astro #punarvasu #purvabhadrapada #vishaka #jupiter #swati #rahu

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arandomdai · 4 months

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Persephone Lost Herself To Marriage

⚠️ Warning: I'm just saying my opinions (and theories) like everyone else. So put your tin foil hats on, it's going to be a LONG read. Enjoy!!!⚠️

• The Realization

This was/is a cry for help. She's finally admitted something that we (some of us) already noticed. The fact that she's so worried about her blue corpse of a man's feelings, while in denial about killing hundreds if not thousands of mortals in seconds...is nasty work. Like okay you don't know yourself, good we are getting somewhere. But are you willing to change your ways like finally admitting that your Mom was right, Minthe was right (about you and your man), Zeus was right (where he says they didn't know each other long), finally realize your selfish and a murderer, etc. Like I wanna see the change, not this boohoo act. And speaking of Demeter, she is a little bit at fault for why Persephone acts like this. If she would've told her about being a FG, teach her how to defend herself, help her control her powers or help make her own decisions, none of this wouldn't happen. Now Persephone (this her own fault here)is trapped with guilt, a blu gru, and a whole population of shades coming in. Once this is over, I pray to God that she wakes up, and leave that man, live in the mortal realm, and hopefully come to terms/works on herself to know who she is because her being a Queen is not one of them.

•Hades Is Her Downfall

This man never loved her. He wanted to sleep with her knowing he had a girlfriend (Minthe at the time) and when she was only 19 years old !!!(smdh 🤢😒), somehow he shows up in her nightmare saying, "I Know That I Can Smell Your Ambitions As They Rot At Your Feet.", he didn't let Persephone tell him what happened, lies about everything, disrespects Demeter, never gave Thanatos a real apology, never actually going to therapy, etc, need I say more? This man genuinely hates powerful women. He sabotaged Demeter's right to rule the mortal realm, gets angry when women stand up for themselves, preys on the vulnerable and young, dangles money over them, had an affair with Hera behind his brothers back, etc, and Persephone still thinks he's husband material... chile. Like how come she doesn't see those horrible qualities and notice that he brings out the worst in her? Real men don't treat women like this. To be fair, that first genocide she caused was all her fault, like yes they were playing in her face, but she didn't need to start killing people. But you know what she did, she was willing to help the shades get into the Underworld (and he was mad about that 😒). Now we're on to our second genocide, and this man was the cause of this as well (mostly her fault but still). The fact he said "I can't stop her from trying." Like yes you can Blunocchio 🙄. I'm so tired of him, and his evil ways. Persephone really needs to understand that man was never in her corner, and if he was, he would've left her alone from the very beginning. The lesson is don't EVER let a man be your downfall and try to make you feel powerless. If he can't take how powerful you are, he was never the one and he's an insecure a**hole.

• There Was Always Someone

Hydros tried to warn Gaia

People thought Rhea was stupid for loving Kronos

Probably someone close to the Missing Goddess tried to warn her

Demeter warned Persephone

Do we see the pattern? Constantly losing yourself in love with abusive men, getting your powers drained because they wanted to prove that they were worth loving, and trying to prove the haters wrong (looking at you author)? Well, yes. Persephone had her twenties to look forward to (school, TOGEM, and starting her future), but made a man child the #1 priority. Had her thirties (self reflection, getting her shit together, realize she can do bad by herself.), but still managed to keep him in the #1 priority slot, instead of her and her own mother. Like does she not get that her mom is her real best friend? These fertility goddesses (excluding Metis 🤢) wish that they would've listened to those people/or families, and saw from their point of view that their men weren't no good, and go from there. Like did Persephone ever think about what Zeus told her ( his back story about what happened to Rhea), nope. Just ignored it because she never listens, and loves finding out the hard way 🙄😒. If the author wanted a real ('cause let's be honest, it's not) feminist retelling, she could've had Persephone look at the fertility goddesses differently, Seeing there struggles, learn that Demeter just didn't want to see her get hurt, and walk away from him (but in a perfect world I guess 🫤). Remember y'all there is always someone in your corner that is looking out for you and/or showing they love you.

• Persephone's Fate

Until she starts listening to the right people, know how to think for herself, and realize that man ain't crap, she's doomed. Years from now, she's going to be trapped in a marriage full of regrets and shattered dreams, sparkling and useless if you will. Hades will continue to use and abuse her. Hell, wouldn't be surprised if he started cheating on her like he cheated on Minthe. Also, wouldn't be shocked if she becomes the next Hera, after all she was just her stand in. Hades would take most of her powers, someone defeats him, and puts him in prison somewhere, she starts seeing him, and no one else can. Would that be something? I mean he was in her dreams telling her that her ambitions will rot. Also people wouldn't want to come around her, and she gotta live with that for the rest of her life. Demeter, lasion, and her son living life to the fullest, so who can she call? She is stuck in a tragic cautionary tale of a fertility goddess. Someone that wanted to prove the haters wrong, wanted to be worthy of loving, and a victim of a man's abuse and manipulations.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #it was hades all along #lore olympus critical #tin foil hats

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bitterkarella · 1 month

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Midnight Pals: the beard is blue

Anna Biller: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of bluebeard's castle Mary Shelley: sup fuckers? Shelley: you telling a gothic story here? Biller: it's not gothic, it just uses classic story telling elements of gothic Biller: it's its own original thing Shelley: oh yeah yeah i'll be the judge of that Shelley: seein' as i invented gothic and all Biller: it's not gothic, it just uses classic-

Biller: it's not like angela's bluebeard story Biller: very different Biller: but let me explain angela's story in detail Biller: blow by blow Biller: for pages

Biller: this woman goes to a spooky secluded manor Biller: like daphne du maurier's rebecca Biller: with a brooding aristocratic husband Biller: like Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights! Biller: and she has a sweet heavenly voice Biller: like urkel!

Biller: this part of my story is a reference to Jane Eyre Biller: you guys might not have heard of it, its pretty obscure Biller: don't worry, i'll just grind the story to a halt so that i can describe jane eyre Biller: and this bit is a reference to dracula Barker: oh my god its like gothic ernest kline Poe: clive, be nice

Biller: anyway eventually she kinda just putters around until her brooding husband poisons her Biller: and there was nothing she could do to avoid it Biller: real girl boss hours

Shelley: what, she just gets poisoned? Shelley: couldn't be me Shelley: if i was there, i would have shivved that bastard but good Biller: UM no actually Biller: that wouldn't work! Biller: there's a whole concluding chapter about how stupid you, the reader, are for thinking she escape Shelley: rip to her but i'm different

Biller: so what do you think? Mary Shelley: i like the bit where you just repeated angela's version Poe: clive Poe: no wait i mean Poe: mary Angela Carter: no no i can see why she might like that part

Biller: the important thing about my work is to know that women and men should stay in their lanes and follow the strict rules of their gender Patricia Highsmith: poison's a broad's thing Biller: excuse me?! Highsmith: that's how a dame does a murder Highsmith: a real man does a murder with his hands Biller: Highsmith: or a boat oar

Highsmith: see, my ripley- Biller: oh god again with the ripley Biller: always with your OC patricia! we're all tired of hearing about your OC! Shelley: no patricia's right, killing a guy with a boat oar is cool Shelley: poison's sissy shit Shelley: i like how ripley does all those murders Shelley: fucker's got style Highsmith: that's what i've been saying!

Anna Biller: see, Bluebeard's castle is all about how men are men (evil) and women are women (stupid) Biller: as opposed to the love witch, which was about how men are men (stupid) and women are women (evil)

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #edgar allan poe #clive barker #mary shelley #anna biller #patricia highsmith #angela carter

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whumpsday · 1 month

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3 whumpy anime to check out this spring!

Go Go Loser Ranger is a heroes vs. villains anime where the villains are the good guys and the heroes are downright evil. Having wiped out all the powerful monsters more than a decade ago, the heroes keep the weakest monsters captive, to parade around and torment on a weekly basis while the public believes otherwise. Because they're immortal when hit with most weapons, they'll always reform to be hurt over and over again, despite feeling all the pain.

Footsoldier D is one of those weak monsters, an immortal shapeshifter made of dust, called a "duster". After escaping the heroes' arena, he forms a plan to kill the heroes and steal the few weapons they have that can permanently kill dusters, freeing the rest of his kind. Given that he has the constitution of a porcelain doll, he can't use strength to fight: he has to rely on wits, stealth, shapeshifting (despite knowing very little about humans or the outside world), and a shaky alliance with a double-agent ranger who seems to be taking advantage of him for her own gain.

Whump tags: villain whumpee, hero whumper, immortal whumpee

Watch it on Hulu, Disney+, or any unofficial anime site.

And if you don't have time to check out a whole anime, the Go Go Loser Ranger opening theme video is also really good, with fantastic visuals symbolizing D's struggles!

An Archdemon's Dilemma is a romantic comedy stuffed to the brim with popular whump tropes. Zagan is a demonic sorcerer who attends an auction for the possessions of another recently-killed sorcerer, when he sees that one of those "possessions" is an elf slave, Nephelia. Having had a destitute, harsh past himself, he feels a rush of sympathy and buys her way out, vowing to ensure her safety. However, Nephelia is terrified, believing she's about to be used as a sacrifice in a dark magic ritual. And unfortunately for both of them, Zagan is a socially awkward loser who sucks at communicating.

It's surreal seeing something that looks like it could be a caretaker-new-master whump fic as an actual, fully-realized anime. It definitely doesn't take itself too seriously despite the premise, leaning heavily on the "comedy" part of romantic comedy, and is mostly just a silly time with lots of whump-adjacent stuff thrown in. Fanfic-y to the point of "there's only one bed" being an actual line.

Whump tags: fantasy slavery (very pet-whump-esque in its tropes), caretaker new master

Watch it on Crunchyroll or any unofficial anime site.

The Grimm Variations is an anthology of horror retellings of several Brothers Grimm fairy tales. With each episode being written and directed by different people, it varies wildly in quality, with episodes ranging from laughably bad to incredibly good, but I'm here to talk about episode 2: Little Red Riding Hood.

The Little Red Riding Hood takes place in a dystopian future where the upper and middle class use virtual reality technology to augment their reality. One man, Grey, is tired of this and craves the real: specifically, the feeling of real blood spraying him as he murders countless women, his wealth and connections protecting him from consequences. But when this serial killer makes the mistake of targeting a woman called Scarlet, he finds himself on the other side of the knife. This episode is a complete and utter gorefest with multiple onscreen torture scenes.

This isn't even my favorite episode of the series, it's like my 3rd favorite. But episode 2 is the one with the gruesome torture scene, so it's the one that goes in this post.

Little Red Riding Hood whump tags: whumper-turned-whumpee, torture, gore

Little Red Riding Hood warnings: sexual assault, eye gore, fingernail gore, violence against women, major character death

Watch it on Netflix or any unofficial anime site. Orrrr if you just wanna watch the big torture scene without any of the context, it's on Youtube.

that's all I have for now :)

(P.S: Dungeon Meshi, while not really whumpy as a whole, is also currently airing and very very good and I might write whump fanfic for it at some point in the near future. Netflix or any unofficial anime site.)

#fandom

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wheels-of-despair · 5 months

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The Family Holiday Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: It's December of 1985, and Evil Woman is ready to spend her first real Christmas with Eddie… why is he being weird about it? Contains: Christmas stuff, insecurity, love, a meaningful gesture, tears, being hopelessly devoted to Eddie Munson, a happy ending. Words: 1.6k

"We're putting the tree up and decorating tonight. Probably end up drinking some hot chocolate and watching something Christmas-y. You in?"

You and Eddie had finally been sprung from detention, and thinking about tonight's festivities was the only thing that had kept you awake. The rest of the boys had escaped your cruel fate and gone home when they were supposed to, so it was just the two of you in the van now.

"You need help?"

"What, like 'oh please, big strong man, won't you come help us feeble women-folk put up this heavy plastic tree'?" you tease. "Don't NEED help, but we'd love for you to come hang out."

"Actually…" he licks his lips and concentrates on the road. "I think I might just go home tonight."

"What?" Eddie Munson, passing up Family Fun Time? And hot chocolate?!

"I'm, uh… I'm just really tired. Think I might be coming down with something."

You reach over to feel his cheek, which does look flushed and feel a little warm.

"Are you okay?" He hadn't said anything. Not that he'd been allowed to make a peep during the last hour, but he'd seemed fine at lunch.

"M'fine, just wanna sleep."

You watch him suspiciously as he turns onto your road. You know something's brewing in that twisted little mind of his, but you don't know what.

"Okay," you agree, deciding not to pry. Maybe he just needs a little time to think about whatever he's got going on, and he'll get over it on his own. He pulls into your driveway.

"You want us to wait and do it tomorrow?" It would probably require a little groveling, but you'd do it. You'd do anything for him.

"Nah, don't change your plans on my account."

"Okay," you say again, a little hurt. "If you change your mind, you know where we'll be."

"Don't wanna get you sick too."

"Eddie, you had your tongue down my throat just a few hours ago. That ship has sailed." You tilt your head and wait for a smile. He forces one that doesn't reach his eyes. Maybe he really is getting sick.

"Call me if you need anything?"

He nods. You lean across the van and kiss him on the cheek, then hop out and walk to the door. He doesn't start backing out of the driveway until you've got it open. But this is the first time in forever he hasn't come in with you. It feels strange. You don't care for it.

He didn't come that night, and he didn't call.

Your mother had asked about him, and you'd said he wasn't feeling well. Which, as far as you knew, was true. You thought of him the whole night, from the time you helped wind the lights around the tree, to hanging the stockings, to watching the marshmallows melt in your mediocre cocoa while some claymation special played in the background. Everything was better when Eddie was around.

He arrived the next morning to pick you up for school as usual, but still felt a little distant in the seat next to you. You let the boys ramble about the current campaign while you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

You made an effort to act normally throughout the day. Like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn't unexpectedly bailed on something he was supposed to be a part of. Like he wasn't being weirder than usual.

Despite your efforts to act normal, Eddie remained quiet. He nodded and let out a half-hearted laugh or two at your attempts to break him out of his funk on the ride home. When he pulled into your driveway, he didn't even turn off the van. The rest of the boys had gone to Jeff's to play video games. No one was home. Eddie should be jumping at the opportunity to spend some time alone with you. Unsupervised. Instead, he glances at you like he's waiting for you to get out.

You turn in your seat to face him.

"Alright. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing."

"Edward."

He sighs.

You cross your arms. "I'm not getting out of this van until you tell me, so you better either start talking, or get fucking comfortable."

He turns off the ignition, then sits quietly for a moment.

"Don't you ever get sick of me hanging around all the time?"

"Nope. Try again."

"Doesn't your mom?"

"You are aware that she refers to you as her favorite child, correct?"

He huffs out an exasperated breath, and it fogs up the windshield in front of him.

"Look. I appreciate you including me. I really do. But Christmas is a family holiday. Like, THE family holiday."

"You ARE family, dummy."

"I'm not."

"You are. You're more family than most of the people I'm related to."

"That's not how it works."

"That is absolutely how it works. I chose you. WE chose you. Those other people are just assholes we happen to share DNA with."

"Look, just…" He grips the steering wheel. "I appreciate you trying to include me, but eventually you're all gonna get sick of me. I don't want to wear out my welcome."

Your heart sinks. Your annoyance fades. How has he not realized that he's your entire world?

"Eddie, you're always welcome, wherever I am," you tell him gently. "You're my favorite person in the world. I fucking love you. I want you with me all the time. Whether it's Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or a random Wednesday, or the day we get married."

He stares at his lap.

"What's it gonna take for you to realize how much you mean to me?"

He shrugs.

And then, you get an idea.

"Come with me."

You get out of the van, but he doesn't. You walk to his side and open the door.

"C'mon, I want to show you something."

He slides down and follows you with his feet dragging, like a big insecure baby. You kick off your boots and drop your jackets, and you take his hand and lead him to the living room. You come to a stop by the fireplace.

"Look."

He lifts his head and takes in the garland and the holiday-scented candles and the nutcracker and the four stockings…

You can see him re-count.

He looks to you with tears welling up in his eyes.

"Told you so."

Your mom has made him a stocking. It matches the ones you and your brother have had since you were babies. She's even stitched Eddie's name onto it. His stocking fits right in, just like he does.

He bursts into tears. He hides his face in his hands and sobs, and you wrap yourself around him the best you can.

You want to tell him that THIS is why you wanted him to come over last night. That you wanted your mom to see his face when he saw his stocking for the first time. That you wanted him hang it himself. But the lump in your throat won't allow it. So you hold him and let him cry and hope that he finally gets it: He's family. The best kind of family; the kind you all chose, because you all love him.

His eyes are red and puffy when he pulls away from you. You brush his hair away from his face, before the tears can dry and glue it to his skin. You don't know what to say. Apparently neither does he.

You take his hand and tilt your head toward the tree. You lead him to it and flip on the power strip. The tree comes to life. You cross the room and switch off the overhead light, letting the tree's colored bulbs fill the room with a warm glow.

You return to the tree and sit down in front of it, lie back, and maneuver your head underneath the branches.

"C'mere," you finally get out. Eddie sits on the floor beside you and copies your movements, his head coming to rest beside yours on the white blanket your mom has wrapped around the base. You reach for his hand and hold it tightly as you stare up at the inside of the tree.

"When I was a kid," you begin, finding your voice again in the familiar calm of the tree's glow, "I used to spend half the holiday season under the tree. Dad always insisted on a real one, but Mom fought him and switched to a fake one after an unfortunate incident involving sap in my hair. THAT was fun."

Eddie chuckles. You're so happy to hear that sound again. You lie there and hold his hand and stare up at the twinkling lights in a peaceful silence.

"I haven't had a stocking since my mom died."

"Really?" you ask, turning your head toward him.

"Mhm," he hums, still staring upward.

"Wayne wasn't a Santa Man?"

"No chimney in a trailer," he says matter-of-factly, like he's heard it a few times before. "Wayne said that's why Santa sometimes forgot to bring me stuff at Mom and Dad's house. Because they didn't have a chimney either, and Santa couldn't remember how to get in."

Wayne's solution brings a smile to your face.

"Did Santa figure out how to get in at Wayne's?"

"He left the presents on the porch," Eddie grins. "Me and Wayne would put out a can of beer and a bag of Fritos for him. He said Santa would want something salty after all those cookies."

You laugh. "Good thinkin', Wayne."

Eddie finally turns his head toward you.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Eddie."

This is the fic that I fought for 2 days, posted, trashed... and then took another run at and gave it a better ending, inspired by this thought from @munson-memories. 🥰

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 1 year

Text

It's all bad

So there is a post going around right now about how in Plano Texas, there was a sting operation that caught a sex trafficking ring. Some of the people there were first responders and teachers. However if you look at twitter, and of course on this hell site, there are people who are SO EAGER to suck a drag queens no no bits, they had to go out of their way to post some pretty "lovely" things. Now the reason I'm posting this image, rather than just the article is to prove a point.

We have absolutely zero confirmation about what the user William LeGate said here. None. At best he tried to look up some names, and background checks on those listed. However, on the original post by the DFWPD (Dallas Ft. Worth PD) This article is not even cited. And I looked at the article. You know what WAS listed in the "jobs" let's look:

You know what WASN'T listed? Republican Politician or "Church Leader".

Now let me show you the list of disgusting individuals, which wouldn't you know it, includes a woman.

Now let's do some math shall we. Racial, and political activists will look at this image, and do exactly what they do with is judge every single thing on surface level looks. As shown by these next tweets. (Some of them having prior records)

As you can clearly see, this started a trend of #NotADragQueen and a very old and tired trope of "The church is scarier protect them from that instead of drag queens"

My question to all of you Neo Progressives is this. Why exactly are you so hell bent on bringing up an event that happened over a decade ago?

Better question. Why exactly do you care if no drag queens were VISIBLE? Is it because parents don't think it's appropriate for their kids to be in from of a adult male in exaggerated women clothing. Several of whom have been found to have criminal records of sexual assault and some even against kids? Don't believe me? Let's look shall we.

WOW, if you look at this man's mug shot, YOU'D NEVER KNOW he was a drag queen. TURNS OUT not only was he one, but also is a child sex offender.

But rather than actually care about child sex offenders, which, let's be really fair here, you don't. You'd rather have a gatcha against those, "Evil republicans".

Let me be clear. If you look at all those mugshots? You'll notice something. Varying races and ages. You know what we AREN'T shown? Political leanings of every single person there and who they have and have no voted for. My current annoyance with all of you now, is one very LARGE thing. Rather than being happy that these people have been caught, you are FAR MORE EXCITED at the prospect that this group could contain your political enemies.

HOW F*CKED in the head are you? Really? Predators find positions of power. No matter where the position is. Sometimes they actually get complacent with their power and they begin to lose inhibitions. This should have nothing to do with the church, with drag with dems, or with reps. This SHOULD have everything to do with the fact that it's AMAZING that these assholes have been caught.

Thing is? Most conservatives just don't want drag in front of their kids. That should be their choice. AS THE PARENTS. And we don't actually know the ratio of predators to non predators in the drag community. And until they get arrested and charged, much like any other person, we CAN'T know.

Catholics were SEETHING when they found out what their leadership was doing. However, it was NOT all priests. It was not even most. It was however enough that it caused notice. And that makes sense. You can expect at least 10% of any large group to be not good people. However here is the issue. You are equating an entire group, that at the time was a VERY LARGE population size of the US. Per Capita is a fun thing to talk about. And given the LIMITED number of drag queens in the US you'd expect very very few to be guilty of sex offense. However, we see time and time again that's not the case.

Am I making the argument that drag queens are predators? No. Hell, most conservatives or moderates would not even be prone to making that argument if many of you were not so dead set on having kids see it or be around it. And the level of insistence around it kind of raises red flags if I'm being honest. Also a fun thing missed by that asshole William LeGate from the opening pictures is the mention of "Teachers" in that list of people involved. Another something people have brought up concerns over.

Stop making this about trying to own the cons. It's very possible several of the people on there are LGBT or Dem. And you'd ignore that, JUST to point out anyone not on your side. WHY THE FUCK do you care. Why can't all of it be bad. Conservatives are beat over the head with a 20 year old allegation equating their religious faith AS A WHOLE, to being pedo friendly. Imagine my shock when many got fed up with it and started putting that target on others. Mostly because it was a SMALL SUBSET of said group.

And now, just like them before, you are trying to salvage "your side" and deflect it from criticism. Also one last thing. MOST actual conservatives have not, and are not accusing most or all drag queens of being pervers or pedophiles. However in your fervor to not just demand they be in front of kids, but to also defend them from any and all allegations. I can certainly from the outside looking in see how that would be concerning. What's more, we DON'T know if any of the people shown there were drag queens. Some could have been ministers in the church. Both provide apt access to the people they wish to offend against.

Do you know what the only difference is between the two? You'll defend tooth and nail the drag queen even from the accusation. You know why that's bad? Because if that happened with a minister or pastor etc, that entire church community would be in lock down and every single person in power would be gone over with a fine tooth comb. So basically in one instance, Your side defends the potential predator, and their side demands action. In the other instance, you pat yourself on the back that bad people exist on the opposing side, and that side goes out of their way to figure out wtf is going on and seek out accountability.

Long story short. In both cases they want justice. In only once case you want justice. In the other case you are jerking off about how "good" your side is. Despite a NUMBER of people PUBLICLY that vote dem are on Epstein's flight lists including to his island on a number of occasions. Point it out and demand justice in every instance. Sex crimes especially against kids isn't a joke. And yeah OF COURSE by the laws of numbers it's going to be seen more in MUCH LARGER communities. DUH! Because there are more chances for it to even exist. A child understands that level of thought.

So again I ask you. Why do you care more about having a gatcha, than actual justice. You all saw, "the other side of the isle" and went, "See we aren't the bad guys". Meanwhile if I were to do research into every one of the people listed, I could likely find a few people who I could weaponize against your side. You know why I don't? Because I care more about the fact they got caught.

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