#Shadow Brigade

[sweetbunpura]

If you want to read more about my P5 OC’s before i rewrite the story idea I had for them.

[onlycosmere]

Comatose: Why do rat skulls glow on Threnody?

Brandon Sanderson: *laughs gleefully* RAFO. There's a pretty good reason, but that's a RAFO. We're gonna do a book on Threnody eventually.

[britcision]

Ngl I suspect every single person who thinks VM wouldn’t want to res Laudna either hasn’t seen the first campaign at all, or hasn’t for a really long time

The fucking Guilt Patrol?

The same guys who Never let Keyleth live down accidentally killing a kid before they ever recorded the show?

They were fucking wrecked by how many innocent people were killed retaking Whitestone

The whole point of the Sun Tree was to horrify them with the representation of what the Briarwoods would do to Vox Machina, and that they killed innocent people to do it

Put a chance to restore the life of someone they failed in the hands of Professional Guilt Magnet Keyleth of the Air Ashari?

An extra way to flip Delilah off from beyond the grave by giving Laudna back her agency?

The people who EXPLICITLY KNOW Delilah is a necromancer and actual dead corpses are actually her most useful resource?

Nah, slam some Pelor up in there, lets consecrate this bitch while we’re at it and pee on Delilah’s grave

(Matt said that putting Laudna’s body in stasis prevented something from happening to it For A Reason)

Like yeah Vox Machina fucking hate Delilah Briarwood but it’s not like LAUDNA likes her either and they’re not going to blame the young woman THEY GOT KILLED when they can just go to the astral plane or wherever she is and kick Delilah’s ass directly

If nothing else, Laudna’s an excellent distraction while they hunt her down

[spiritoast]

team shots (it is, frankly, homophobic that i cant have two companions at once and have to swap between my favorites like some kind of monster or animal)

these were mad fun to do drawing these stick guys is like therapy to me

[yusuke-of-valla]

Thinking about Ken as Yusuke and Sumire's jock friend who just sometimes visits Tokyo to hang out with them on school holidays, since being friends with Mitsuru Fucking Kirijo makes it easy to do that.

She doesn't necessarily affect the plot at this point. She's just here to chill now that she's worked through the bloody desire for vengeance and also her gender crisis.

She is doing SO well actually. Kicking ASS on the soccer team. Punching out assholes. Taking Koromaru everywhere.

Now that I think about it it'd be funny if Yusuke and Sumire just did not tell the Phantom Thieves about the Shadow Ops or vice versa so the Phantom Thieves are pretty sure the three of them are in a gang of some kind and it's not helped when Ken makes a joke about getting revenge or something.

Ken does not question Yusuke and Sumire's friends because frankly, she has no clue what a normal social group is.

[kollectorsrus]

[b3crew]

Shameless Tuesdays: Livre 139 | The Shadow Majlis | B3crew.com

Great albums aren't just a treat for the ears; they're also gateways to mind-blowing journeys. Toronto's The Shadow Majlis takes listeners on a worldly trip on their latest album The Departure. Whether said departure is permanent or temporary is up to one's interpretation, but one thing's for certain: it's a wild adventure! The album is not short of epic sounds, ranging from powerful string sections and hypnotic sitars to even Tuvian throat singing! It all molds together to create an album that will have listeners diving deep into finding their true selves. But before you take that trip, The Shadow Majlis will take you through the soundtrack of their lives in this week's Shameless Tuesdays!

[snapscube]

A poem to cure your leftness/socialism/communism/marxism/queerness/lesbianism/progressiveness/environmental activism/moralism

In shadows deep, where reason wanes,

A woke brigade, its grip remains.

Proclaiming truths with zealous might,

Yet blind to nuance, shunning light.

In echo chambers, minds confined,

Dissent dismissed, no space to find.

A dogma rigid, thoughts constrained,

Individuality, it's disdained.

Justice sought with biased eyes,

No room for dialogue, compromise.

Words deemed weapons, silence coerced,

Free expression quenched, diversity cursed.

Oh, woke crusaders, self-appointed,

Your righteousness leaves minds disjointed.

In pursuit of progress, heed this call,

True wisdom listens, lest we all fall.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF ME, FIRSTNAME BUNCHOFNUMBERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[brucewaynehater101]

AU for Bats and the JL

When Duke joins the brigade, the Bats are ecstatic to introduce him to the JL. Why? None of the JL actually believe that the Bats are non-meta humans. Are they supposed to believe that Batman can do all that he can because he trains really hard?

The JL is so convinced that the Bats are lying about not having powers that they've included it in New Member initiation. It's considered "rude" and "mean" to call out Bats on their very obvious power usage. In fact, guessing Bat powers is half the fun! They gather all of the non-Bat members to have potluck discussions about it.

Obviously, the Bats are well aware of these meetings. They have their own gatherings where they laugh at the suggestions or come up with strategies to fuck with the JL.

For Bruce, the JL is convinced that the man has control over shadows as well as increased mental compacities. Bruce is way too skilled in disappearing in a room full of people with enhanced senses. Also, he knows facts about almost every subject.

For Dick, that man should not be able to move like he does. He either doesn't have bones or has increased elasticity. Dick's favorite JL memory is crawling down the Watchtower halls with his joints in weird places. Green Arrow's scream is forever recorded and backed up into five different servers.

At first, the JL thought Jason had emotional manipulation capabilities. The hope, courage, and passion he inspired could not have been naturally occurring. Then, after he re-emerged as the Red Hood, obviously his powers are resurrection -_-

Tim? Kid's a cryptic ancient creature. The creepy kid will stare at you without blinking throughout a two hour meeting. Stay away from him and don't piss him off.

Steph nearly laughed herself into a coma when someone tried to convince Hal that Spoiler gets her power from the color purple. Her switching to Robin's costume caused a riot and the JL members frantically scheduled an emergency non-Bat meeting. Should they intervene with Bruce forcing her to wear a costume without aid to her powers? The few months she was Robin were tense for the members.

Damian has an ability to understand martial arts on an unparalleled level. What other non-meta ten year old can utilize a sword so effectively?

Cass is an entity. They don't know what she is, but they fear her all the same.

Barbara is all-knowing. Her ability to collect information and navigate technology can not be naturally occurring.

Now, the JL is faced with the first Bat to admit he has powers. Does that mean none of the others have powers? Is Signal's just too obvious to deny?

[ckc4me]

Phantoms of the Fighting Irish & Other Antietam Hauntings

LONG SHADOWS: More Ghosts and Haunts of the Civil War Clear the Way! by Don Troiani In Ghosts and Haunts of the Civil War, among the many battlefield ghosts I chronicle, one of the best documented haunts occurs at Antietam Battlefield in Maryland.  The Story of the famed Irish Brigade and their ghosts who still inhabit the bloody fields of Antietam, makes for one of the more interesting of the…

[sweetbunpura]

Toshida Fuga

Nickname:  Ace

Age:  17-18

Gender:  Male

Race: Japanese

Birthday: December 31st

Sexuality: Homosexual 

School: Shujin

Arcana:  Wheel of Fortune

Appearance: 

6'1"

long shaggy hair 

hair covers one eye - Silver eyes

spiked black ear cuffs on the other

Gemini Tattoo on his right shoulder

Personality:

Sly

Protective

Blunt

Vulgar

Casual way of speaking

Strong

Smart

Playful

Loyal

Honest

Weapon: Warhammer Rifle

Alliance: Shadow Brigade

Family: Ken Amada Koromaru Junpei Iori Mitsuru Kirijo Aigis Akihiko Sanada Yukari Takeba Fuuka Yamagishi

Friends: Ryuji Sakamoto Haru Okumura Yuuki Mishima Michiko Watanabe Ayami Hyuuji Hifumi Togo Ichigo

Phantom Thieves: Akira Kurusu Morgana Ann Takamaki Yusuke Kitagawa Makoto Niijima Futaba Sakura

History: Toshida is an orphan, left on the doorstep of an orphanage with a note attached to him. He stays in the orphanage, where he later runs away and finds Ken, staying with him in the dorm. The dark hour happens, to which he gets a persona, much to the SEES surprise. But Toshida sees what having a persona does to you so he doesn't want it. He rejects his persona and says that he just wants a normal life.

From Tatsumi Port Island, Toshida got his persona fairly young during the Dark Hour. He stayed with SEES after his Persona “awakening”. Years later, he, ken, and koromaru moved to Tokyo and rented a small 2 bedroom apartment.Toshida goes to Shujin. Toshida keeps to himself a lot. He awakens to his persona a second time and finally welcomes, Houdini, into his life. Joined the Shadow Bandits after he followed, Michiko, Mishima, and Ichigo into Kamoshida’s palace.

[onlycosmere]

Questioner: Having read Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell, that world has got a lot of problems, and I have to ask. When you get to the end of it, what hope is there for those poor people?

Brandon Sanderson: You know, despite everything that’s going on, they still manage to survive. That’s pretty impressive. I would say that there is a way out for them, a way toward more stability. Because the danger is a spiral of lowering population numbers because of things that are happening.

When you’re dying and becoming undead, there’s certain curves, a multiplicative curve that is very dangerous to population numbers that happens whenever you are dealing with some sort of undead thing like that. But there are ways out.

Questioner: They depend on silver, which is a limited resource.

Brandon Sanderson: It is. But do know that, in the cosmere (it’s like when you’re burning metals), there are injection points of new metals into things that are possible to figure out.

But yes, they’re in danger. They’re definitely the Simpsons meme. That is Threnody as a whole. And maybe someday, I’ll be able to write a book there, and we’ll dig into some of these issues.

[luveline]

Could you do a drunk cuddly Steve if you're feeling up to it?

When Steve comes home to you that night, you evade his hug. “Steve, you smell awful.” 

Steve flinches away from you. In any other moment, you’d notice how lovely he looks —there’s something special about the way he squints when he’s pissed off— but his smell is overpowering. 

“Sorry?” he asks, offended and confused. 

“You’ve got stuff all down you. What is that?” You try to be kinder. It’s not like he smells bad on purpose. “Do you need help?” you ask.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m gonna take your shirt off,” you say gently. 

His scowl relaxes. “You are?” 

“What is it, do you know? It doesn’t even smell like beer. It smells like death.” 

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke, he’s not as smiley as you’d like him, but you suppose that’s the perils of telling him he smells. You grab the ends of his shirt and you pull it over his head, careful not to get the wet part on his face, and then you snag a packet of makeup wipes off of your vanity and pull on out to wipe down the skin near his heart that’s still shiny. 

“That’s nice,” he says, swaying at your touch. 

“Yeah?” You fold the wipe and rub him down. “I’m gonna put that shirt in the laundry. Get in bed, sweetheart.” You touch his face quickly. “Make yourself comfy.” 

You forbid his gross shirt to the laundry basket in the bathroom and take a moment to stretch. Steve, though drunk, isn’t doing his usual sweet brigade. You must’ve really offended him when you said he smells. You aim to put it right. 

“Sorry,” you say, pushing open your door again. Steve’s done as you told him to do, sitting on his usual side of your bed. “That was mean. You didn’t smell awful, just the shirt.” 

You climb onto the bed and kneel in front of him, stroking a perfect lock of hair back from his forehead. “Forgive me?” 

Steve winds his arm behind your back. He presses his face to yours, before his head falls into the curve of your neck, where it stays. 

“I’m sorry for being gross,” he says, heartily drunk.  

“You’re not gross, the beer just surprised me,” you say. 

It’s clear he drank more than he tipped, his movements wobbly, but his hand curling protectively behind you in a good effort. 

“Oh, hello,” you murmur, “this feels like forgiveness.” 

“Some asshole tipped beer on me, I’m sorry.” 

“Steve, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry, you smell just fine now.” You take a performative sniff of his hair. “You smell amazing.” 

He squeezes you and pushes you down into the bed. He has just enough wits about him to be careful about your head on the headboard, shifting over you, and pulling the blankets up to cover your shoulders. His naked torso presses against your arm, your chest and your stomach, his skin feverishly warm. 

“Do you think you can call me sweetheart again?” he asks strangely. 

“That depends, will it make you feel better?” 

He scoffs, which is more like him. “I won’t beg.” 

“No, you asked nicely enough the first time,” you say agreeably. 

When he leans back and pulls you into his chest, you feel forgiven for certain. Slowly, you let your nose skirt along the curve of his neck before kissing the shadow of his Adam’s apple. 

“Sweetheart,” you say, barely audible, “I love you.” 

He’s like an octopus from that point onward. You’re dragged flush to his front with your hand on his collar, his nose and mouth pressed to your forehead. He’s soft underneath you but not without muscle, a strong bicep behind your shoulders squeezing you securely even as he mumbles drunkenly into your skin. “Love you…” And finally, finally, he seems to recuperate from your accusation, “It’s weird when you don’t wanna hug me.” 

“I always do. It was purely olfactory related.” 

“Ol-what-ery?” 

“It wasn’t personal.” 

Steve squeezes you until you sigh. “It felt personal.” 

“It wasn’t. I just blurted it out. You smell really nice now,” you say, and he does, cologne and skin and sweat, too. 

“So you still love me?” he asks. 

“I just said I did, didn’t I?” 

He wrestles you with both great care and great clumsiness to his face for a tipsy kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth. “Can you tell me again?” 

You offer to say it a hundred times, but after twenty he’s snoozing into your shoulder, his thumb stuttering where it lays against your back. 

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Elden Ring DLC Bosses Revealed!

From Software has released a guide to all the bosses of the upcoming Elden Ring DLC, Shadow of the Erdtree! Here are the ten great monsters you'll fight in the Shadow Lands:

Messmer The Impaler

Messmer is the third triplet with Malenia and Miquella, banished to the shadow lands because for liking snakes and impaling people. Mostly for impaling people, but the snakes didn't help.

The Burning Colossus

A big heap of flaming bodies used as a weapon of war in the rival kingdom of Nausicuu, this massive beast has to be scaled and slain because that's what you do with colossi in games.

Albinauric Orphan Tear

The missing link between mimics and albinaurics, this monster throws his "husk" at the player like a boomerang. The first boss of the DLC, it guards the cave that leads to the Shadow Tree.

Godskin Brigade

The Gloam-Eyed Queen is guarded by an army of her progeny, the godskins. They bear her most fearsome weapon, the Incantation of Ganqskwa-Darengi, which makes them act unpredictably and never need to stop to let the player get in a single stab or arrow.

Godlion Dancer, Firstborn of the Gods

The murdered soul of Godwyn, son of Godfrey and brother to Godrick, Godrranq's lover. This guy has God written all over him. He also has 30 legs so he's good at dancing.

Birdmaster Tonguay, Slayer of Literally Everyone

Ever wonder who tied all those knives to all the bird feet? Ever wonder why there are so few people in the Lands Between? Meet Tonguay, murderer of all those people at the claws of his bird-knives.

Ribbitus, Priestess of the Frog Cult

Elden Ring's new gimmick boss can only be defeated by jumping from platform to tiny platform to poison the flies she likes to eat. She randomly kills the player without warning or opportunity to recover. She sings to you in French the whole time.

Metalgiir, Armored Gandamu

An occult robot constructed by Robot-Master Iji Jr., Metalgiir demands an entirely different kind of gameplay that doesn't fit or scale to anything else in the game, yet is not optional so you have to learn to beat him or you get nothing.

Ouchlord Vivaldi

Just... Don't fight this guy, he clearly has enough problems going on.

Daniel R. Clarksen

Little is known of Daniel Clarksen or why the Tarnished must fight him. He seems like a decent guy, but he probably like turns into a giant demon thing with boobs. These games have lots of those.

[yusuke-of-valla]

WAIT, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT P4D IS CANON. I am suddenly Fascinated by what the BBB version of P4D is like.

Clearly the funniest answer is the kids, not being full members of SEES, weren't fighting in Arena, and so the IT have no clue that they even HAVE personas until Naoto brings them along and the IT are like "were so sorry for getting your siblings wrapped up in this" and then Kasumi turns out to be very good at it

Alternatively the kids don't get wrapped up in stuff but form an adorable baby dance group with Nanako (yes I know they're like 12-13 at this point and Nanako's 9 but they're BABY)

I think either way Mitsuru starts a running theory that the Arisatos are just inexplicably drawn to shadow events, a theory that'll be strengthened when Yusuke and Sumire blaze through three in a year

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

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