#he’s from a desert planet and water is precious

[sukicorza]

Chinook taking Relke (the sandy webbed winged) out for his first night flight in her (now their) territory.

[perlelune]

Young God | Feyd-Rautha

The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice. 

Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.

Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north. 

Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.

“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.

She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.

“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”

You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”

While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.

You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.

You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor. 

Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.

But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.

Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked. 

Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.

Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound. 

You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste. 

You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench. 

The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.

“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”

She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.

As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.

You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.

They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.

You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.

You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.

The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes. 

For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.

It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy. 

Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.

Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.

An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.

You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.

Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.

“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear. 

He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.

“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength. 

Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.

“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”

As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead. 

But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink. 

You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.

You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.

After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.

You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.

Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.

For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.

Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.

You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least. 

It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.

“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.

“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.

Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”

You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.

You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.

A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.

And who are you to stand in the way of fate?

“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.

A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.

“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.

A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.

“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.

Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.

“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”

You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.

Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.

“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.

His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of. 

He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”

Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.

“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.

When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.

Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.

“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”

When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.

He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”

The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.

You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.

“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.

He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.

“That song you sang…” he rumbles.

“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”

He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.

“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”

Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.

“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”

Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.

“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”

Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.

You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.

“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”

As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.

Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”

His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.

Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.

However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him. 

“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”

Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen. 

He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.

Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.

You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.

“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.

Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.

“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”

You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.

Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.

You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again. 

Your forehead creases.

You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.

Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.

Horror twists your insides.

You’re not on Arrakis anymore.

“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.” 

The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.

“The Harkonnen Keep on…”

“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.

While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.

“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”

He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.

You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.

“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”

He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”

“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead. 

You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.

...But you can't quell your weeping.

He tilts his head.

“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”

Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.

Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.

You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.

“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.

His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.

“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.

“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”

A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh. 

“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.

The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.

But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.

Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.

“You’re sick.”

“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”

It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight. 

“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers. 

To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.

Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs. 

The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch. 

He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.

As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.

“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”

Shame pulses through you with his words.

He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.

You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.

He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.

“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”

The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.

He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.

Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls. 

As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss. 

You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.

Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.

“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”

You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death. 

But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin. 

You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin. 

But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.

And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world. 

It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon. 

“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”

He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.

[smokeygrayrabbits]

wolfwood cooking for vash, but because hes so used to only cooking for the orphanage he makes way too much. bros used to cooking industrial sized meals and has no concept of how to shrink the recipe. wolfwood starts freaking out over food waste because that's completely unacceptable on a desert planet, especially out in no man's land. he was trying to plan a cute lil date night! now he has to run around giving out food in this asshole town full of asshole people who have been less than accepting of vash and his vashness.

except that vash, little mister no I don't deserve to eat or I don't need to you should have it is a plant. a walking talking generator who, unlike his almond mom of a brother, does actually need to eat. a lot. sure, he refuses to eat most of the time out of either guilt or not wanting to take up precious resources, but he's still hungry all the time. the same hunger that drives his brother to save their sisters. plants give and they give and they give but that takes a toll. all that energy has to come from somewhere, and if they're locked inside away from each other, it can't come from the sun or from food or be supported. it comes directly from them, leaving the plants sick and exhausted, energy, life, slipping away from them, through their fingers like grains of sand.

properly cared for plants powered spaceships and supported the entire human race for years with ease. mistreated plants sent humanity crashing to the ground. vash hasn't been properly cared for a day in his life, definitely not since the fall. he's never had enough food, enough rest, enough care to be truly sated, until he walks into the abandoned house they were staying for the night and sees wolfwood standing over a giant pot of something that's already making vashs mouth water making his too sharp teeth ache with the nerf to chew on something, he'll have to file them down again soon. wolfwoods standing over that big pot of heaven, and vash is to zeroed in on the pot to notice the distraught look on his partners face.

wolfwood, too worried about the massive amounts of impending food waste, didn't notice the tears gathering in vash's eyes or the exited little purr in his throat when he shakily whispers

"is. . . is that all for me?"

yeah spikey. it is. he knows he messed up ok you don't have to be a dick about it WOAH. ok. tackle hug. cool. cool cool cool. this is fine and normal. spikeys just squeezing the life out of Nick, carrying him over to the pot with a spoon in hand and absolutely inhaling the dinner wolfwood made that could feed an army. homy shit he's already a third of the way through it ok damn spikey.

wolfwood is so in awe (and also worried about vash choking at the speed he's eating) that it takes him a minute to register the tears still leaking down vashs face and the little mumbles of thank you thank you that hes whispering out between bites and oh. by some miracle,

wolfwood gets it.

he swipes the serving spoon out of vash's mouth, smooths over the betrayed look with a kiss to his forehead and a hand over spikey hair, and wrangles vash over to the table wolfwood had oh so carefully set earlier, lest it be anything but perfect for their little date night, and deposites vash into a chair with another kiss to his cheek.

wolfwood carries a bowl over to vash, places it in front of him and places the chair that had been on the other end of the table right at vash's side, because hed have to be deaf dumb and blind to not read that need for closeness right now in vash's desperate gripping earlier. he places a spoon in one of vash's hands and links his own through the other, and vash eats. and no food goes to waste.

[bookreviewcoffee]

Dune Frank Herbert

“Dune" is, without exaggeration, an era, a magnitude in literature that is difficult to overestimate. A science fiction saga, with elements of the novel of chronicles and adulthood, space opera and dystopia, metaphorical narrative full of philosophy and mysticism.

The first trilogy of the classic cycle is full of the life and life of a free people, the planetary ecosystem including the giant worms, echoes of courtly strife, the structure of organizations equally ruling the Known Universe but also dependent on the spice that is produced only on Arrakis.

High and intense text full of concentrated substrate based on religion, politics, ecology, legal and cultural issues, immediate survival, while learning about the future.

The plot is fascinating, like standing in the center of a huge temple complex in Kornak, where the desert wind brings the essence of plans within plans.

Compared to the TV series and screen adaptations, the book predetermines the accents in relation to the characters, making them full and vivid, clear in plot twists, meeting the author's intent and the logic of behavior under given conditionsThe story itself I really liked, probably partly because I generally love fiction and somehow have not read something interesting and non-anal of this genre for a long time. A lot of fiction books are based on Christianity, and this is the first book in my memory that is based on Islam.

I also like the way Frank Herbert describes the characters' looks - almost without details, leaving room for imagination. The story is not long, lively enough and colorful enough, and I have experienced this forgotten feeling again and again, when I want to return to the book to find out what is going on.One of the main themes is the opposition between the houses of Atreides and Harkonnen. In these quotes, a clear example of the difference between the houses: the Atreides pay love for loyalty, while the Harkonnens gain submission through hatred. 'How much he talks! - Hawat thought. - This is not Duke Leto, who could speak to me with a wave of the hand, a movement of the eyebrow. What a carcass! The author (maybe the translation) shows Vladimir Harkonnen as a huge carcass, which has accumulated large reserves of precious water. This is the main peculiarity of the desert Arrakis. Arrakis. A desert planet, also known as Dune. There, under the scorching sun, there float huge worms on the sand, from which it is impossible to hide. There’s a free folk out there - Fremen with blue-tinted eyes that cover even squirrels. And, most importantly, Arrakis - the only place where the spice is extracted. Spice or melange - the most important wealth in the universe. If water is commonplace on Kaladan... here, in the desert conditions, its value is high. To show your respect, love, loyalty, you must share water. Whether it's spitting or mourning the dead. One of my favorite characters is the planetologist Kynes, who dreamed of turning the desert into an oasis. His father managed to plant and implement this idea among the Freemen, and his son continued his work ... Freemen are a hardened people of the desert with their own philosophy and way of life...they were told that the work of greening Arrakis is labor-intensive and the results can be fully appreciated only by the eighth generation. Not only that, but the Freemen and the Kynes did not abandon it, but passed it on from generation to generation. Valuable and very much appreciated. Chani is a great representative of the Freemen. Honestly, I didn't really understand why Jessica didn't think she was a good match for her son, even though she thought she was a worthy representative of the Bine Gesaerit school. Chani is wise, intelligent and loving to Paul. She is such a reliable and strong support for him.In general, the novel is a very interesting story, competently combining social problems, political peripetias, religious ascents, life philosophy, many multi-layered mysteries, and I think, even some meditation.And all this cornucopia is doused in beautiful, smooth, syllable with detailed, distinctive style descriptions that include perfectly developed characters. I wholeheartedly recommend the novel, I don't know if I'll be able to experience all six books, but I'm now serious about part two. For anyone interested, I recommend that you be patient and take your time with this story, getting to know it at your own pace.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Brave New World

Author’s note: Imhoden in Husbandry AU :)

Next

Warnings: None? Tell me if I need to add any. Desert Survival, Chaos Space Marines, Descriptions of fighting.

Summary: Imhoden arrives on Ancient Terra, and treks through the Desert to get to somewhere safer. And gets grabbed by the local Chaos Warband. He is So Fine and Normal.

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @kit-williams

Tagged Again: @kit-williams, @whorety-k

Imhoden had been one of many that had taken up arms, when the Captains of the Thousand Sons sent out the call. That the barbaric Space Wolves were coming to kill and burn them all to ash. Rage and hatred is nurtured in his heart, for Prospero, for his Primarch, for his brother’s he will fight those no-good mad dogs that dare to spill the blood on the sands of Prospero. He and his squad of Thousand sons had been fighting the Maddened Space Wolves, when he heard- and saw one of their Wolfen Ships blast down bolts to rain down utter destruction.

He tries to raise a shield of Warp power to protect himself and his brothers from their utter ferocious, and unprovoked attack. He defiantly chants insults and warp-craft at the ship, even as he feels the ship bolts heat scorch and burn him. He blinks the light from his eyes, the spots of light blinding him as he slowly closes his eyes and opens them several times as he realizes the miracle that is him alive and his hearts sink to his stomach when he realizes he’s not on Prospero any more.

The desert sands of this planet he now resides on his not the sands of his birth, the lands of Prospero. He looks up at the night sky, to see if he can recognize the stars and the patterns he'd been taught by his brothers, and his hearts sink more as he realizes that he doesn't recognize the stars in the night sky either. Well then, he's definitely not where he once was, part of him wondered if he was dead and, in the afterlife, if there was such a thing, or if some other thing had happened to put him here, wherever here is. He checks what he has on him for hydration and food rations as well as calculating where he should go.

Closing his eyes briefly as he reaches for the warp, and finds to his alarm that it's much, much harder to grasp onto the warp and to use even the smallest of spells takes a staggering amount of effort that drives him to his knees panting, such effort that he hasn't had for such a simple location spell for the nearest spot of civilization since he was a very young Aspirant, being taught the ways of the Sorcerer Warriors of the Red King. He cuts off the spell, before it takes his life, or causes him to pass out.

He'll have to try to go in the vague direction of where he'd sensed civilization, and try to find a place to hide from the wrath of the sun during the day time if he could. He's careful as he paces himself walking across the desert, even with his training for survival in such dire circumstances, surviving in a dessert alone, with few supplies is never a sure thing. It takes him several days to get to the Oasis that his warp powers had led him to. He was careful to test the water, and check on the vegetation around him, to see what was possibly edible, and what was likely not edible.

He takes just enough, but not too much, for weight is something he needs to be careful of, part of him is calculating whether or not keeping his Ceramite armor was better, or worse. While in armor he's faster and it protects him from the elements somewhat, the weight of it is very concerning, depending on how long he has to trek through the desert before he can find some semblance of civilization. It takes him several more days before he finds some cacti that have fruits that are edible, and contain life giving, precious water, he carefully plucks the prickly pinkish-red hued fruits and carefully de-spines the fruits and takes a bite, the flavors that dance along his tongue are odd, and floral, but he is glad to have found more sustenance.

He's eating as little, drinking as little as possible, moving during the night, and trying to find shade and uneasy rest during the hottest parts of the day as the unrelenting sun beats down at him. He continues to move towards where the warp spell had led him to go. He would only use the spell sparingly, and only for brief periods of time, as to not overextend his vastly weakened ability to use the warp. Finding the small baseline community after nearly a month of travel had felt like a stark relief.

Realizing that he did not understand a word the locals spoke had been concerning, but he was nothing if not adaptable, determined and doing his best to learn this local tongue. None of them seemed to understand Gothic, or any of the other languages that he knew. He also noticed how skittish they were of him, understandable, the Trans-human Dread due to being an Astartes affected all baseline humans. They do allow him to stay in a place to rest and recover from his trek in the deserts surrounding this small town.

He's quite surprised when a few days later, some other Astartes come into town- their forms are strange and twisted, but he recognizes one of them as an Emperor's child, and the way this 'warband' of their treats the local has him frowning at them in disapproval. Getting dragged into their war band is something that he protests at first, but after many a squabble and sparring match, which he usually loses, he, rather unwillingly follows along with them.

Learning about the fact that he's on Ancient Terra, and how there are loyalists, Renegade and Chaos Marines, all on the same planet with the larger groups having an uneasy alliance had been quite the shock. They had, rather frustratingly, given him bits and pieces of information slowly, monitoring his reactions as they told him about what they were doing there and why. Apparently, his arrival had been noticed by an Ultramarine Librarian and they had sent them to gather the wayward Thousand Sons.

[writing-fanics]

Hello there! I'm not used to making these, but I have a Vash x female plant reader request if it's not too much trouble, and should you ever have the time.

So, the female reader is also a plant, but she can purify water and grow vegetation, at the cost of her own energy. She has the tentacle things Knives does, but they are soft and not meant for attacks or defense.

She lives in a small paradise in the desert, one she has slowly grown and cultivated over the years, filling it with lush vegetation and flowing pure waters. Several people have moved there, and they ask a lot of her daily, but she just wants to help people, so she doesn't really mind, so long as visitors and people looking to live there don't cause trouble or harm.

I'd love to see Vash discovering this little paradise in the desert, meeting female plant readers, realizing she's a plant and seeing how she interacts with her precious humans, and maybe even protecting her from some cruel raiders who seek to capture her and use her abilities for their own selfish gain?

She's not very good at attacking or defending herself, unfortunately, as she lacks the biological combat-related advantages Vash and Knives possess, but she's sweet and soft-spoken and is immediately fond of Vash.

Vash the Stampede x Fem!Reader

desert flower in paradise

Many people of the planet Gunsmoke, have heard of the little patch of paradise somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the desert. A place where vegetation is flourishing and bountiful. Flowers as far as the eye could see and trees that reached the sky. Small creeks and rivers flowed through the small oasis their waters so crystal clear, that you could see the bottom.

Many have tried and searched for the small paradise and failed. Or the few that went off to find such paradise. Never returned, being so enchanted by how such life could flourish without the help of a plant. they chose to stay among the few people who’ve settled.

Legend also speaks of a beautiful young lady, and some think of her as a goddess. Life blossomed where ever she walked wild flowers and grass blossomed, where ever she stepped. Patches of dead grass regained its bright color whenever she walked nearby.

[Y/n], an independent, had created this patch of paradise. What was once a small patch of grass and flourished and cultivated into a small community. She created allowing humans to move in whenever they wished, and only turning away the ones. Who she saw might cause harm or trouble. Two of the many things not allowed in the paradise.

“Ms. Y/n!” She turned towards the person calling out her name. She smiled, looking at the human before her he ran towards the woman.

“I’m sorry, but I need you miss. My crops they’re sick.” The farmer said, and she nodded smiling wanting to help. The farmer smiled, as he lead her towards his house.

She frowned, seeing the sick crops her heart ached for the plants. Closing her eyes and focusing her energy on the plants. A tentacle appeared on her back and it lunged towards the plants. Plunging itself into the dirt and pulsating, vines wrapped around her arm as she focused her energy on the plants.

Sweat ran down the side of her forehead, as she whispered faster as the plants regained their color. The tentacle disappeared and the vines as well, she fell to her knees bags forming underneath her eyes.

Catching her breath she smiled turning towards the farmer, “There, your crops are nice and health and will bring you and this community bountiful amounts of food.” He smiled, thanking her for her help and she grinned.

She loved helping the humans, and making sure they had everything they needed. She loved them with all her heart and would do anything for them.

[Y/n] closed her eyes, as she laid in a field filled with a plethora of different types of flowers, both species and colors. She laid in the very middle surrounded by red geraniums. Relaxing in the serene and peaceful environment she created for both her people and herself.

Despite herself being different her people loved her for what she’s done for them, giving them a second chance at life somewhere new and peaceful.

She hummed to herself; she remembered faintly a woman with black hair and brown eyes and everything else a blur. “Ms. Y/n,” Carlos said, panting running over towards on the stone path to avoid ruining the flowers.

She sat up immediately and turned her head towards him, “We have some visitors.” He said, and she smiled softly. “Bring them in.” She said, and Carlos but his lip.

“One of them is the Humanoid Typhoon,” he said, and she looked at him she’s heard of the humanoid typhoon. but has also heard how he’ tries to save people in harms way.

“bring them in, I want to give our guests the upmost hospitality.” she said, and he nodded and ran back towards the entrance.

a few moments passed, and the guest entered her private guardian. a woman with bluish black hair looked around in awe, a priest holding a big cross stared at it in awe. Everyone was in awe; the blonde couldn’t help but stare though at [Y/n]. Who stood on a small hill surrounded by red geranium, he could’ve sworn he saw Rem.

“Welcome, my name is Y/n, and where you are is a paradise that I’ve created for both humans and myself.” She said, smiling, everyone stared at her in awe. She was definitely beautiful for sure.

“Hungry?” She asked, looking at them. Fruits and Vegetables, popped out from the ground and she smiled at her guest. “Go ahead,” she said, and watched as the woman picked up one of the fruit taking a bite.

Her eyes lit up the fruit tasted different, almost sweet like candy but slightly bitter. “The fruit and vegetables here are none to be ver desirable amongst planet gunsmoke” she said, and crossed eyes with the blonde and smiled at him.

something about him was different, he looked human but didn’t feel it she sensed that in him somehow and he sensed it too in her. “Now, I’ll be showing you to your rooms. You’re welcomed to leave whenever you like. I’ll let you rest up before giving you the tour.” She said, and they followed her stuffing their faces with fruits and vegetables.

“This place is amazing!” Meryl said, in awe. [Y/n] smiled hearing this turning towards her, “Thank you,” she said, and took notice of Vash’s gun.

“But, we do have a rule here two actually. UnecessaryViolence and the causing of trouble is absolutely prohibited.” She said, and turned towards Vash.

“You have the right to bear arms, but on the condition of only using it if absolutely necessary.” She said, looking at both Wolfwood and Vash.

“Have, you had any trouble with raiders or bandits in the past?” Vash asked, and she looked at him.

“No, but have had our fair share of angry people being turned away.” She said, looking at him. “So, not many people own or have any weapons. Not seeing the point since our community is so secluded.” She said, continuing to lead them down the hallway towards their rooms.

“Sorry, if the rooms small and not to your liking.” She said, and Vash turned towards her shaking his head. “It’s perfect.” He said, and she smiled.

“I’ll come back later to give you guys the tour.” She said, before leaving them to themselves. She felt Vash’s eyes on her as she walked back down the hallway.

[ after tour ]

[Y/n], had showed them around the small community. Leaving them completely awestruck by how beautiful this place was, and after having their bellys filled. Her guest went back to their rooms to rest, and to leave in the morning.

Vash, had seen how kind and caring she was towards her people. From the moment that he laid eyes on her knee she was special. She wasn’t human, and maybe an independent like him.

She smiled, every second as she helped her community. Despite how much energy it drained from her each time she used her powers.

He watched, as the bags formed under her eyes as she struggled to walk and to focus on the task. Her people didn’t realize how much they were asking of her and depending on the task, the more energy it took from her. She doesn’t mind only wanting to help but it was an endless cycle. She’d rest for the rest of the day, and then do it all the next day.

She knelt down towards the dying flower, and closed her eyes focusing her energy. vash watched, as her skin glowed revealing her plant lines. She looked angelic as she healed the plant.

They placed their hands together, staring into each other’s eyes as their hand glowed. Revealing their plant selfs to each other, slowly intertwining their fingers. “I’ve never met another independent before,” she said, looking into his blue eyes, “I’ve never met another independent who shares the same morals as me.” He said, and she giggled in response looking up at him.

She didn’t know why her heart was pounding against her chest. Staring into his eyes made her feel some type of warmth she’d never felt before. She felt safe around him more safe than she ever felt in her small community.

Despite having only know each other for a short amount of time. A fondness for each other has blossomed between them. and now that fondness had developed into a bond, they leaned their foreheads against each other and chuckled. taking in the peaceful moment between the two, as they intertwined their fingers once again. their noses pressing against each other.

suddenly, screams were heard from outside causing them to pull away from each other. Vash immediately told her to get behind him which she obliged. Raiders barged in and saw the humanoid typhoon, and the girl that they were looking for standing behind him.

“well well well, seems todays my lucky day. i get the humanoid typhoon and the desert flower.” the raiders boss said, smiling holding his gun. [y/n] covered her ears hearing the screams and cries of her people, and of the plants being burned by the chaos that the raiders were causing.

Vash, stood in front of her protectively not letting the raiders get any close to her. “You are not having her.” Vash said, glaring at the raiders boss. Who laughed pointing his gun at the humanoid typhoon. She looked terrified looking between both, Vash and the raiders boss.

“We’ll see about that.” He said, firing gun. Vash raised, his gun and shot the bullets down with ease. [Y/n] gasped, looking up at him and smiled. Immediately, he commanded his entire crew to start shooting causing Vash to pick her up, bridal style and carry her away from harm. Dodging each and every single bullet shot at them.

Her eyes widened in horror, seeing trees being burned as well buildings. She nuzzled her head into Vash’s chest. After seeing charred remains, tears rolled down her cheeks as he carried her away to safety.

All this was because raiders were after her, wanting to use her for selfish reasons. To use her as a means to make their own lives easier and not the lives of others. They only cared for themselves and wanted to use her powers of making vegetation to do so.

After the raiders were defeated and left, the entire community gathered up those who sadly perished. Such unneeded violence she couldn’t help but not feel guilty, she underestimated the secludedness of the paradise. But now after that she made sure that some where keeping watch late at night.

Vash and [Y/n], smiled as they looked at each other. She handed him a sack full of food, herbs for healing, and other things. Telling them that they’re welcomed back anytime and for Vash to visit whenever he can which obviously he said yes too, and before he left. He planted a quick kiss on the side of her lips.

[a/n: I wrote the ending while slowly falling asleep I’ll go back and fix it later but I hope you enjoyed]

[jedimasterbailey]

for the Jedi ask game, if you haven’t already, I’ll request 8 for Barriss, 36 for Ahsoka, and 48 for Luke! :)

OOOOOOOOO!!!!! Thank you for giving me multiple Jedi to do and giving each them amazing questions for me to answer! 😍

(Original Jedi Ask Questions Linked Below)!

8-How did Barriss meet her Master?

This is one of my absolute favorite headcanons about Barriss and I wrote a whole chapter on in my fic “The Padawans” but I love to believe Barriss met Luminara as a baby when she was brought to the Jedi Temple. In Legends, it’s been said Barriss was basically abandoned on a ship as a baby and that’s how the Jedi discovered her and brought her home, so I turned that sad concept into something sweeter. I like to believe Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were the ones to find her and bring her and the moment Luminara saw Barriss, she immediately fell in love with her and vowed to be her Master one day. From there, Luminara basically raised Barriss, visiting her as much as she can, giving her gifts from her travels, etc. until Barriss was ready to be her Padawan in which Luminara gifted her with her trademark blue cloak and heart belt buckle 💚💙 Im very fortunate to have the very talented @grissaecrim depict this very moment and it’s forever one of my most precious images.

36- Ahsoka’s Guilty Pleasure

Ahsoka likes to use the Force for menial things like passing the salt, throwing away trash, pranks, levitating food to Barriss, etc. because she saw Anakin do it and she thinks it’s a funniest ever even though that’s definitely not what the Force is for 😂

48- A Crack Headcanon About Luke

That since he grew up on a hot, desert planet that Luke is OBSESSED with water and greenery, like he cannot shut up about it and everytime he sees a large body of water, Luke just dives on in but like he’s the worst swimmer which drive Leia and Han crazy because then they have to dive right after him before he drowns himself 🤣 Luke eventually learns how to swim as he gets older but you’ll always catch him mediating or hanging out by water or under the shadiest tree because he finds it all so beautiful and he never got to experience it as a child 💚

Jedi Ask Game Questions

[wooriid]

Few facts about the Nautolan boi for everyone interested in it 🤍

"They were forced on me, plunged into my flesh to bring nothing else but pain and agony. I however embraced them, welcomed them as a new part of myself, commemorating them for calming my ever agitated mind. Pain that eases pain. They belong to me now." -- Iego about his back implants

- Back Implants: the six rings on his back were forced on him by his former master soon after he took Iego in his “care”. They were plunged into him without painkillers or narcotics - acting as instruments for his punishment and keeping Iego in control. Valkro sees the strength of his apprentice and thinks the easiest way to control and weaken him is through constant pain. Iego reaches a point though when he gets used to the implants and the never ending agony they cause him, a point when the pain is not a punishment anymore but a necessity, when it becomes his oxygen and therefore he slowly becomes addicted to it. It is the turning point for him - since he is able to start to gain strength from the constant pain, preparing himself to escape from the terrible grasp of his dark lord.

- Albinism: due to his illness Iego is very light sensitive which is why he usually prefers low light/dark environments. He is able to adapt of course - if needed - but he will always prefer dark rooms or night time though. His ship's environment is customized to his needs - the rooms being pretty low light, the droids calibrated to the gloomy lighting. Throughout the ship he installed salt water tanks - which allows him to trigger his luminescence anytime he needs more - pleasant - lighting.

His skin is pretty sensitive to the sun, so he usually visits planets (especially desert planets) in special attire (wrapped up in several layers of cloth) covering his lekku and his face. In bright daylight he also wears special protection goggles to bear the lighting and protect his eyes.

- Luminescence: a light blue glowing pattern showing on his whole body every time Iego dwells in salt water.The darker his environment the brighter the glow.

- Scars: his pale body is covered over and over in smaller and larger reddish scars. Most of them being the result of years of punishment and torture under Darth Valkro (his long time Master), some few though are trophies from light saber duels or marks of self destruction from pretty dark episodes of his life.

- Forehead Scar (cross): Darth Valkro's marking. He brands all his apprentices with this mark - and it is well known among certain high ranked Siths. Plainly spoken it is a slave mark so that if one of Valkro's precious pets might get loose the chances are higher that it will be returned to him.

- Tongue: Iego has a pierced and split tongue.

[lpvncnt]

* ◟ : 〔 TAMINO , CIS-MALE + HE / HIM 〕 PHILIP GOFFIN-VINCENT , some say you’re a TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DOGGED and DEPRAVED, one can’t help but think of STRUGGLIN' by TRICKY, MARTINA TOPLEY-BIRD when you walk by. are you still a CLEANER, ACTIVE ASSASSIN at THE BORDERLINE HOTEL, RED EYE even with your reputation as THE GARGOYLE? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and STUPID SHOW-PONY HIGH ROLLER, PATIENT LIKE THE HYENA WAITS, GET IN YOUR CAR AND RUN ME OVER INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR OTHERS TO DO IT FOR YOU, YOU LAZY FOOL, although we can’t help but think of JONATHAN CRANE (DC COMICS) + ERIC DRAVEN (THE CROW) + JASON DEAN (HEATHERS) + ANTON CHIGURH (NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

FILE: LIP VINCENT

STATUS: ACTIVE. HEIGHT: 6'2". SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL, AROMANTIC. DATE OF BIRTH: 12/25/1995 HOMETOWN: MALMEDY, BELGIUM. RESIDING: BROOKLYN, NY. ROOMMATE WITH [TBD WANTED CONNECTION].

Instead of the usual biography, I felt like the following poem captured the energy of the past a bit better than I could ever express:

INSOMNIAC

THE night is only a sort of carbon paper,

Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars

Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --

A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus

He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness

Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie

Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days

Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,

Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,

A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.

His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.

Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --

How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!

Those sugary planets whose influence won for him

A life baptized in no-life for a while,

And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.

Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.

Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.

Each gesture flees immediately down an alley

Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance

Drains like water out the hole at the far end.

He lives without privacy in a lidless room,

The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open

On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats

Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.

Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,

Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.

The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,

And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,

Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

— Sylvia Plath

AESTHETICS

Repugnant amount of weed smoke filling a suspension-lacking 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, that only a 100% masochist would drive in New York. You were not born to cry. Leopard print BB belts stacked on the waist. A soul, emptied. No pride, no pleasure, no desire. Life is just like a Wong Kar-Wai movie. You've got two fists comically full of metal, the weight shifts you off your feet when that punch is thrown, your poorly welded home-made 'rings' -- made from a chunk of all the old silver jewelry you've collected from the bodies over time, all these precious keepsakes melted onto a fork -- made to hurt -- should be illegal. Lots of little projects like that scatter what you call 'home'. An angel dies every time a shitty fuckboy like you flashes his mid-section in local Bodega for no reason. Recently adopted a Belgian Malinois, Osiris, who is still in training and needs a muzzle (an excuse for enabling bad behavior, could be symbolic). Egregiously loud mumble-rap. When stressed, likes watching ballroom dancing while chainsmoking cigarettes.

Hi, I'm Samuel, 24, PDT, a sweet little Californian baby boy who will do tricks for treats, gee whiz am I glad to be here. All of this is a bit vague but will be fleshed out with time -- if you've got any questions on specifics I'd be super happy to clarify. Huzzah !

[tessiete]

For the latest prompt list, meriggiare.

Korkie Kryze.

An Italian word, unusual to us too but known anyway because one of the greatest poems of our literature starts with it. Meriggiare pallido e assorto…

https://www.slow-words.com/to-rest-in-the-shade/

I...don't know @piccolaromana. I'm not.....unhappy with this? But it's a little weird. It's not my usual style, though I mean, at least the purple prose is me. Am I coming back to myself, or am I only more and more lost?

I don't know!

But I thank you for the prompt and I hope you don't hate this! <3

FIRE THAT'S CLOSEST KEPT

Korkie Kryze lies down to sleep when the sun of the Empire is highest.

It is not giving up. He’s only tired. So tired. It is impossible to keep going. Like sunrise over a desert, the ascent of Palpatine has been swift and deadly. The fury of his power has burned away every good and growing thing. All life. All love. All freedom. 

All of the Senate.

All of the Republic.

All of the Jedi.

Mandalore, he left for Maul. The wasted frame of a dying beast writhing in its last throes of resistance, and all the Sith had to do was wrap his hand around its throat and squeeze. There was hardly any strength left. All of it had been spent on the throne room floor in Sundari. 

His aunt’s death was a mortal wound. They just didn’t know it at the time.

But Korkie knows now. He knows how you can bleed and bleed and bleed and hardly understand you’re wounded. He knows how infection can slip beneath the skin and boil your blood without anyone noticing. He knows how something can break deep inside, and fester, and rot, and waste away until all that’s left is ash. He learned all of that after he woke up to the feel of beskar against his skin. Not his aunt’s cool fingers, but Bo-Katan’s clad in armor. Her voice low and rough, telling him the Duchess was dead.

He blinked, not understanding.

The blind mask of the Nite Owl’s visor stared down at him, half-familiar but only in the way a hologram looks like a loved one. Distant. Inverted. Warped.

She’d cocked her head, and sighed. Through the vocoder, it came out like a growl.

“Guess you’re coming with me.”

But she was wounded too. And Korkie couldn’t save her. Rage, he knows, is also a kind of injury. So is grief. And fear. 

Let it go, let it go, let it go. 

He repeats the mantra in his head, reminding himself that there are some things outside of his control, that will always be outside of his control. He can’t save everyone.

The bandages on his arm come away easily, melting beneath the warm spray of water. Dantooine is a charming planet absolutely brimming with resources, but too many lightyears away from anything of true worth. There are no deposits of rich metals, no crude oils, no gases, no precious stones, no spice. There is only grass, and grain, and fresh water.

This is where the Rebels have been stationed for almost two years, living double lives, mingling with the locals, and selling their wares in the traveling markets that pop up as the seasons pass. The small population of farmers and laborers take them for refugees. There have been enough of those in all corners of the galaxy that a few here are hardly suspicious, and they live quietly enough that even the nosiest of traders learns nothing worth tempting the Empire’s wrath for.

But in the caves by the old fortress, there are hidden ships – a whole fleet of fighters stolen and repurposed, or donated by nameless politicians. Korkie has filed off the royal seal for Alderaan so many times that he has calluses in the shape of their desecration across the pads of his fingers. 

And those ships are equally marked with the black blaze of laser burns and torpedo strikes. They are pocked with shrapnel, and held together with binders and chemtack. Korkie can hardly believe they’re spaceworthy, but they keep going back.

He keeps going back.

But this was the last time.

The water runs over his skin, and the blood, turned black with oxygen, falls away down the drain. Black dirt falls off his skin, and black smoke is washed from his hair. 

After, he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks that black and red are the only colors left. The only colors the Empire hadn’t burned away, fading like laundry in the sun. Ashes and embers. And once he’s cleansed himself of them – of the blood and the dirt – he is a ghost.

His hair, once a burnished gold, is stark white. His cheeks, bloodless and white. His eyes, as blue as crystal water, but the closer he looks the more they appear clear, and empty like an ocean glittering back the reflection of that burning flame above showing nothing of what lies beneath. 

At his mouth, there is a slash of red as though every bloody thought, every gruesome deed sits poised on the tip of his tongue waiting to be told, and at the centre of his eyes, there is a black, dark void where light is swallowed up. He looks into it as if he might see himself on the other side, but he sees nothing.

Korkie Kryze has finally bled out.

“You should rest,” she says. “You should lie down and sleep.”

“And dream?” he asks. “And only dream of death?”

After all, what else is left is there to imagine? 

As a child, death was something distant and impossible. A strange thing for a Mandalorian. Through the sheer force of his aunt’s will, a whole generation was born to a people whose great-great grandparents had not known peace. He was the first. And he was the last.

The very last, he thinks. It’s an idle thought now. When he’d first had it, he’d panicked. The possibility that every other person he’d known, every other childhood friend, or passing acquaintance, or despised bully was dead had crushed him. The weight of their loss piled on top of him until he couldn’t breathe, and he was certain he was meant to join them. But he hadn’t then. And soon, the thought grew stale and dull. Then amusing. Then tragic. 

Now, he repeats it to himself to remind himself that the end is very close.

“You can stop,” she says, and she pulls him down to bed. “We can stay here. We can keep our eyes closed, and keep our arms around each other, and let it all pass over us.”

Like a corpse in the ground, he thinks.

Mandalorians do not bury their dead. But there are tombs on Dantooine. Old Jedi ones. He thought they’d burned their own, too. Yet the barrows are there, on the outskirts of the enclave. He visits them often, and sits between the mounds. The hills are ancient and so they are worn down to gentle swells, like ripples on a pond. He sits in the tall grass and his hair blows and he sways because the wind goes right through him, like branches or like old bones.

“Sleep,” she says. “Sleep, sleep.”

Die Mando, die Mando, die Mando. Die, die, die.

“I can’t sleep,” he says. 

“Go to sleep. It will all be clearer in the morning.”

The Rebellion is leaving Dantooine. The fight is heating up. The princess of Alderaan is loud, and she is being heard. She is young, Korkie thinks. She is younger than he was when he lost everything. She has never known peace. She is not softened by it. Weakened by it. She was born with armor, and she has not been wounded. Not yet. 

“We will lose everything,” he whispers in the dark.

“No,” she says. “We are letting it go.”

“And what will we have left?”

“What do you want to keep?”

“Myself. I am only living my life in pieces, and this one is already dead. But there is something else they’ve tried to kill. I’ve kept it hidden for so long that it is all that I have left.”

She kisses him then, so gently, on the mouth. “Then don’t let them take it. You know who you are.”

“I know who I want to be.”

Korkie Kryze lies down to sleep when the Empire burns the brightest. But Korkie Kenobi burns brighter.

[secretsolarsystem]

Edritch!Anakin decides that Obi will always be his and Obi’s mortality or human-ness is standing in the way of his plans

two requests for this!!!! :O I must admit that I don't know anything about eldritch lore so I based it off the eldritch horrors from the chilling adventures of sabrina AKSHLFDSKLJF I'M SORRY

I hope y'all still enjoy this 2.3k canon-divergent, jedi!Obi-Wan, eldritch!Vaderkin, possessive Vaderkin <3

–

To be condemned to a life of immortality may be miserable or glorious to some, but Vader felt neither way about it. It was the only way he’d ever known – to live a life that was not a life, because life was something precious and sacred. What Vader was, was neither of these things. He was made to be an outcast, made to long and crave and while he did not fear rejection, he did not tolerate it.

Vader knew how he appeared to mortals. His yellow eyes boring into them in a way most unsettling, his scar filling them with a morbid curiosity they could not shake but didn’t dare to appease. He knew that the stilted way in which he spoke threw people off, made them weary and tumble over their own words. But still, he tried to give them some solace, in the aspects of his appearance he could control. He always made himself beautiful, which as of late entailed long limbs and tan skin and a perfectly structured face framed by long curls. It was, however, all to no avail, not thus far. It didn’t matter to humans how pink he made his lips when they stretched to reveal impossibly sharp teeth.

He was the Uninvited, always seeking a seat at the table that would never be offered to him. He didn’t lose sleep over it (if he actually ever slept, that is); his rejection was avenged as he killed those who denied him. If they would not welcome him, then they would die. It was the only way Vader had ever known.

This longing he felt was intrinsic, an unavoidable and unalterable part of his being the Uninvited. He would always wish to be where he was not wanted, with just a sliver of hope that one person would widen their door or pull out a chair or even open their arms.

He’d been welcomed, once, when he presented himself as a young boy looking for home and for love. The woman, though she’d been a slave with nothing, did not turn him away. The woman – Shmi, her name was Shmi – had become his mother, always taking him into her arms and feeding him before herself and protecting him from danger and singing desert songs into his hair.

She had no idea what Vader was, for he went by Anakin, her Ani, and his eyes were not stained yellow yet. He had bright blue ones, which Shmi swore made him a gift bestowed upon her, for they reminded her of cool oases. Tatooine is unrelenting, she once said, holding his cheeks in her hands, but the relief of water is in your eyes. This planet is cruel, but you are its kindness. It was her death, actually, that gave him his gold eyes, forever tainted by the grief of losing his mother and the rage he’d felt as he slaughtered her murderers.

They hadn’t rejected him, because he did not ask to be welcomed. That was the first and only time Vader had killed for a reason other than being turned away, and it changed him forever.

He did not feed on the souls of those he killed, either. Vader killed for the sole reason of not being welcomed. He did not need to eat, only to appease the unrelenting ache to be welcomed and wanted.

Never had Vader felt that ache so entirely focused on one singular person as he did now, for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader had little regard for mortals’ beauty outside of fashioning himself to their liking, but Obi-Wan was undeniably beautiful. His hair shone a shade of copper Vader hadn’t seen in his thousands of millennia of existence, and he had gray-blue eyes that reminded Vader not of oases, but entire and vast oceans.

And Obi-Wan was simply kind. His smile was kind, especially when it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. His laugh was always kind, done with the person and never at them. His touches were kind, happy to give a friend a warm hand on the shoulder or a gentle hug. Vader could tell he was adored by his friends and the young Togruta that followed him around, who Vader supposed was his apprentice of sorts.

Vader could not take it anymore, could not bear to deny himself the privilege of drowning in the pure light that emanated from the man. He wanted to bask in it, he wanted to consume it whole. He wanted to consume Obi-Wan whole, but the man needed to pass Vader’s test, first.

So one night when Obi-Wan was alone – his little apprentice had been promoted, as Vader had learned was customary of their order, and Obi-Wan now lived alone – Vader appeared in his home. Sometimes Vader would ask for entry into homes and kill their owners once he was denied, but he was too impatient now. Plus, he wanted to give Obi-Wan a head-start of sorts.

He watched, silently, as Obi-Wan prepared himself a dinner. Vader had once heard Obi-Wan self-deprecatingly joke that he was no cook, and his lack of confidence in his cooking was evident in how simple his meal was tonight. If Obi-Wan would let Vader in, Vader would ensure that the man would feast every night, like he deserved.

As Obi-Wan finished plating his meal, Vader watched as the man’s hand froze for just a moment, his back momentarily tensing before he took a steadying breath that allowed him to relax his shoulders and continue his movements. It was an imperceptible thing, the way Obi-Wan had a trill of fear he consciously subdued, but nothing about Obi-Wan Kenobi would escape Vader’s eye.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan spoke, intentionally level as he turned slowly to face Vader. The plate was held in his hand, not a single tremor in his fingers.

“Good evening,” Vader greeted in return, his voice monotone and unnaturally stiff as always.

Vader watched as Obi-Wan took in his appearance, his eyes flitting over his golden eyes and prominent scar. What sent a pleased thrill through Vader, though, was where Obi-Wan’s eyes lingered: his hair, his brow bones, his jaw, his shoulders, his waist…Vader felt like he was being appraised, but more than anything it made him want to preen for the man.

“Would you like some food? I did my best to make it edible.” Obi-Wan offered with a raised brow. He tilted the plate in his hand towards Vader to show what was being offered, but Vader didn’t look down at the food. No, his eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan’s own, unwilling to look away now that the lovely, kind gaze was fixed on Vader himself.

Oh, Obi-Wan had no idea that Vader was never going to let him go.

Lips stretched into a wide smile, Vader looked at Obi-Wan from underneath his lashes. Of course his human would invite him without Vader even asking, of course even when wary Obi-Wan would show this mysterious and possibly (definitely) dangerous stranger kindness. Vader was sure Obi-Wan only did it so he could interrogate Vader and figure out what kind of threat he was, but still – Vader had been invited.

Still, he had to ask, himself: “May I join you at your table, Jedi?”

Humming, Obi-Wan set his own plate down before gesturing to the other empty seat. “Please do. I’ll prepare you a plate.”

Immensely satisfied, Vader took his seat, watching Obi-Wan’s back once again as he fixed Vader a meal his form did not require but he would happily eat nonetheless. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan didn’t know what he’d just invited to his table in into his life; Vader was just so pleased his Obi-Wan didn’t make him kill him.

–

Months went by, and Vader was as ingratiated into Temple life as he could be, all things considered. Unlike Obi-Wan and a spare few others, most of the Jedi were thrown off by Vader’s eyes and way of speaking, as most mortals were. Many of them threw the word Sith at him, which he came to understand to mean mortals that used the Dark Side of the Force rather than the Light that the Jedi used.

(At first, Vader had to hold back his laughter. Firstly, because they truly thought him to be a mere mortal; and secondly, at their concepts of the Force as a binary thing to be used. It would come for them all in the end, regardless of if it was Light or Dark.

He couldn’t deny, though, how Light Obi-Wan was, how he seemed almost radioactive with warmth and goodness. It made Vader impossibly hungry for him.)

Much according to plan, Vader never strayed from Obi-Wan’s side. At first Obi-Wan allowed it because of his curiosity when it came to exactly what Vader was, considering his adamant denial of being a Sith, but eventually it shifted into his wanting Vader around. Maybe Obi-Wan wasn’t aware that it was want, but Vader had ensured that a moment away from him would feel empty, wrong, unnatural for the Jedi. A benefit of being with Obi-Wan meant Vader was rarely unwelcome anymore, for Obi-Wan was often welcomed wherever he went, and he always wanted Vader to tag along. Still, there were times Vader was rejected and he had to kill them, but Obi-Wan didn’t need to know that.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to know because he still didn’t know what Vader was. He knew he was no Sith, and that he was “Force sensitive,” which was Obi-Wan’s own explanation that Vader allowed for the Jedi’s own peace of mind. But Vader did not want to reveal his true nature for fear that it might cause Obi-Wan to turn him away, which would gut Vader completely. Not only would he lose Obi-Wan, but he’d have to kill him then, too, and that would make Vader impossibly sad, like his mother’s death had. Though this would be worse, since it’d be done by Vader’s own hand.

Although, Vader still had fears. Since Obi-Wan didn’t know the nature of Vader’s being, he wouldn’t know to be careful with his words. If Vader were to ask to join him anywhere – the refectory, the markets, a Council meeting – and Obi-Wan were to say no, even apologetically, Vader would have no choice. So Vader often did not give Obi-Wan a choice and simply went with him. That and his training Obi-Wan to always want and expect Vader’s presence helped keep his sweet Jedi alive.

That was why, even though it made him feel just a little bit bad, Vader didn’t ask when he started sharing Obi-Wan’s bed. Vader had never craved to be so close to a human, not since his mother, but this was different. He wanted to crack Obi-Wan open and crawl inside, to be invited into the man’s own body, so he took the next best thing: crawling into the man’s bed and curling around him, holding him close though careful not to crush him so completely like he desired.

One night, Vader was holding Obi-Wan close to his body, both of them without shirts. Vader constantly pushed their boundaries, stripping away at the barriers that kept him from Obi-Wan’s core so much as the man would allow him. When he felt sure enough it wouldn’t push his Jedi away, Vader would press his lips or his tongue to Obi-Wan’s bare skin, getting his taste on his tongue to satiate the need to devour the man whole. Tonight, his chest was plastered to Obi-Wan’s scarred, freckled, strong back. His nose was pressed to the man’s nape so he could inhale his scent as the man started to fall asleep. It pleased Vader to no end that Obi-Wan felt safe enough in Vader’s arms to sleep, even as Vader touched and tasted every part of the man he was allowed to. Like now, how he pressed his lips to his nape, making his way towards his ear and then his cheek, unable to hide his own smile when he felt Obi-Wan’s cheek move beneath his lips as the man’s mouth stretched into a smile of his own.

Vader’s smile quickly faded once he pulled away, though, as he took in the sight of Obi-Wan below him. The man was beautiful, of course, and always would be, but Vader couldn’t stand the sight of the crinkles beside his eyes and the gray peppering the man’s hair at his temples and within his beard. Again, Obi-Wan wore the signs of aging beautifully, but the fact that he was aging at all sent pure rage through Vader’s meticulously crafted being. How dare Vader be reminded that he finally got what he wanted, but he couldn’t keep it?

Unless… “Obi-Wan,” he said, voice as flat as always.

“Yes, darling?” Obi-Wan hummed, eyes still shut so he couldn’t see the way the name sent a shiver through Vader.

“If you could live forever, would you?”

Vader waited with bated breath as Obi-Wan considered his question. Finally, he answered, “I’m not sure. It seems like it would be a rather dull and lonely way to be.”

You have no idea, Vader wanted to say. Instead, he asked, “What if you had someone who could live with you forever? Would you do it then?”

This made Obi-Wan smile, eyes still shut. “Would this person happen to have beautiful gold eyes and the loveliest curls in his hair?”

A scoff escaped Vader, and he pressed a kiss to the gray hairs just above Obi-Wan’s ears. “Perhaps.”

Obi-Wan hummed, turning into the kiss. “Well if that’s the case, then I suppose I could settle for forever.”

It took every ounce of Vader’s control to not crush Obi-Wan in a hug, to not smother him with kisses until he couldn’t breathe. His sweet, perfect Jedi, always accepting Vader and inviting him in, even if he didn’t know it.

It would take time to make Obi-Wan like him, and even more time to get Obi-Wan to understand and accept his fate, but that was okay. Now, they had nothing but time.

prompted fic collection on ao3

[iobartach]

@divinehr // starter call

Collaboration and the exchange of information had, unsurprisingly, proven to be a winning formula, practiced and repeated throughout every extent of the Spider Society. He had recognised the need for it in the early going, inlaid the principles of teamwork and communication into the very foundation of their operations. There was hardly a Spider left on the roster that wasn't familiar with this approach, and even when there was, their ignorance was met with gentleness and an explanation, as a rule. Informing each other as needed, to fortify their collective strength.

Make themselves as ready as can be, poised to face anything that the multiverse deigned to throw at the proverbial wall.

Caught up in another round of dimensional traversing, a portal opens to an Earth devoid of oceans, where civilisation clustered and sprung up around lakes and other vast reserves of water dotting this desert-choked planet. A precious resource, now under significant threat, that saw him assemble the same response team that now streamed around his sides, awaiting instruction, a prompting that was imminently supplied;

"You two, fan out. Report back in one hour's time with your findings." Directing his words towards an eager duo that drifted on his right side, his instructions were met with exaggerated salutes and parting waves as they broke off. With their number reduced, Miguel watched their fading forms crest sand dunes for a minute before turning to face the company that remained, crimson hues roving over Priscilla and her current charge-- the panic-stricken Spider-Man that was native to this dimension, trembling at the slightest touch.

"...How is he holding up?" His question was a murmur of sound, gentle and devoid of antagonistic intention. A quick discussion before they had departed from the Society together had seen Miguel deposit this world's Spider person into the jewelled Spider's care, but it had not prevented their leader from still maintaining a interest in her charge's tentative state. "Thank you, by the way, for offering to look after him."

[parralesmatias]

Analysis of the short story "Save Water"

Once upon a time there was a small town in the middle of a vast desert. Water was a scarce and precious resource, and the townspeople were struggling to survive. Droughts were frequent, and every drop of water was invaluable. The townspeople knew they had to do something to conserve this vital resource.

One day, a young man named Mateo had a brilliant idea. He decided to organize a campaign to raise awareness in his community about the importance of saving water. He began talking to his friends, neighbors and family, and together they formed a team dedicated to the cause.

Quotes:

"Water is very important."

"People were very scared and worried."

"Water was so important that people needed to look after it."

Water conservation is essential to ensure a sustainable supply of this vital resource. Here are some tips to help save water in your daily life:

Fix Leaks: Make sure there are no leaks from faucets, toilets, and pipes in your home. Leaks can waste large amounts of water over time.

Install low-flow fixtures: Consider installing low-flow faucets, showerheads, and toilets, which use less water without compromising functionality.

Turn off the faucet when not in use: When washing your hands, brushing your teeth, or washing dishes, be sure to turn off the faucet when you are not using the water directly.

Collect rainwater: Install barrels or rainwater collection systems to use to water gardens and plants instead of using drinking water.

In conclusion, water conservation is a shared responsibility that requires everyone's participation. Water is a vital and finite resource, and its sustainable management is essential to maintain life on our planet. By following tips such as repairing leaks, using low-flow devices, reusing water, and being aware of our drinking habits, we can significantly contribute to water preservation. The importance of conserving this resource goes beyond our personal needs; It has an impact on the environment, the economy and the well-being of future generations.

[josesalguero]

Preserving the Flow: A Water Conservation Crusade

Definitions:

Story: A story is a connected series of events told through words, or any other form of communication. You can tell a story about anything, and the events described can be real or imaginary; covering both fiction and nonfiction (Admin, 2018).

Tale: A narrative that relates the details of some real or imaginary event, incident, or case (“Tale Definition & Meaning | Dictionary.com,” 2021).

Science Fiction: Science fiction is a genre of speculative fiction that contains imagined elements that don’t exist in the real world. Science fiction spans a wide range of themes that often explore time travel, space travel, are set in the future, and deal with the consequences of technological and scientific advances (MasterClass, 2021).

Story:

As I stepped into the shimmering portal, the familiar disorienting sensation of time travel washed over me. My mission was clear. I need to knock off the water crisis that threatens our future. I found myself in the year 2052, a world wrestling with the consequences of water waste.

I met Kira, a brilliant scientist, she explained to me that in the future, the planet's water sources will be reduced to dangerous levels. Then, I realized the enormity of our task. "We need visionary solutions, and we need them now". Kira said.

Firstly, we embarked on our journey, our first stop was a massive metropolis with towering skyscrapers. Water flowed everywhere, but it was treated like a limitless resource. "Water recycling," Kira exclaimed, "is a must." We introduced advanced technologies that purified and reused water, and the residents began to see the benefits. As a result, the new strategies speed up a positive change to prevent water scarcity.

Our next destination was an agricultural region, devastated by drought. However, with Kira's guidance, we set up irrigation systems and genetically modified crops that required less water. Farmers embraced these changes, realizing that their livelihoods relied on sustainable practices.

In a remote desert community, we met up with a family battling to survive. They had no access to clean water. “We must install atmospheric water generators”, I proposed. By extracting moisture from the air, we provided them with a sustainable source of clean water. 

Our journey took us to a corporate main office, where a profit-driven mindset had kept up water waste. We both engaged in a heated debate with the CEO since he wasn’t open to our proposal. "We need your support for a new era of corporate responsibility," I spoke up. With the promise of long-term profit from sustainable practices, the CEO ended up agreeing to change the company's approach.

We moved forward in time, witnessing the positive effects of our interventions. People have started to embrace water-saving habits and appreciate the value of this precious resource. Kira and I were met with gratitude and admiration from the people whose lives we had saved.

As we prepared to return to our own time, I looked at Kira, my partner in this journey. She smiled and said, "We've given them the knowledge and tools to prevent the water crisis. Now, it's up to them to make the right choices."

With a final glance at the future we had helped shape, we stepped back into the time portal, filled with hope and determination. The transition from that future to our present was abrupt, whereas the lessons we had learned were imprinted in our hearts. 

The experience had left me with a sense of responsibility. While standing in the present, I knew that it was up to us to ensure that the future Kira and I had witnessed would never become a reality. In short, water waste and scarcity could be prevented with the right actions, and I was ready to be a part of the solution.

References:

Admin. (2018, November 3). Story: Definition and Examples | Literary Terms. Literary Terms. https://literaryterms.net/story/

MasterClass. (2021, September 1). What is science fiction Writing? Definition and Characteristics of Science Fiction Literature - 2023 - MasterClass. https://www.masterclass.com/articles/what-is-science-fiction-writing-definition-and-characteristics-of-science-fiction-literature

Tale Definition & Meaning | Dictionary.com. (2021). In Dictionary.com. https://www.dictionary.com/browse/tale

[kamaandhallie]

The Dark Lord and the Savior: Chapter 2

Wander Over Yonder x Star Wars x Dune crossover fanfic

Chapter 2: The Dunes

Wander and Sylvia walked through the hot blistering desert, hundreds of sweat drops pouring from their body and forehead. Wander sat on Sylvia’s back where he normally is, and he luckily has his big oversized hat to protect him from the sun’s rays, but he was still getting dizzy from the heat. Sylvia was the one suffering the most, as she had no protection, and she was the one walking, so her feet were getting fried by the hot desert sand with every step she took, it honestly felt like her feet were on the brink of bursting into flames or melting off. On top of that, she was thirsty beyond belief, her tongue was sticking out and her throat felt as dry as the desert around them. What she wouldn’t give to get a bottle of cool water right now. Despite all that, Sylvia persevered and continued to walk, while she did walk slowly due to exhaustion, she won’t stop until they find some shade.

“Hurgh…I can’t stand another second of this desert! Ya got anything from your hat, buddy? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure this is a moment we need something right now!” Sylvia said, her voice raspy due to dehydration and exhaustion.

“Sorry, Syl, but I keep trying to pull something from my hat and it’s not givin’ me anything,” Wander said, feeling bad that he can’t help his friend who was suffering pretty badly right now.

“And we can’t even form an orbble right now?” Sylvia asked, knowing the answer.

“Sorry, the heat just kept making the orbble pop before it can even form. I think we’re gonna have to wait ‘till the heat dies down, Syl.” Wander said.

Sylvia tried her best to hide her frustration (she was too exhausted to be frustrated, anyway), because she knows Wander’s just as tired as she was and is still trying to help. But she doesn’t know how much more she can take of this desert. Everywhere they look, it’s nothing but sand, not a single rock formation in sight where they can take shade since even the shady side of the dunes is still too hot to be rested under, not to mention the dunes move a lot. Sylvia made a mental reminder to never allow herself and Wander to go to any desert planets again, especially one that seemed to be uninhabited considering they haven’t found a single sign of life anywhere.

“Sylvia, look!” Wander shouted, pointing towards something in the distance.

Near the horizon, they could see what looked to be a watering hole, a pretty big one too. Wander and Sylvia stuck their tongues out in anticipation from the thirst, their eyes shining at the sight of the prize. Sylvia wasted no time to use whatever energy she had left to rush as fast as she could towards the watering hole.

“Precious water! Here I come!” Sylvia shouted triumphantly as she ran at full speed and leaped in the air towards the watering hole.

When Sylvia landed though, there wasn’t a splash, she landed with a dull thud on the sand. Sylvia looked around, the watering hole wasn’t there. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what was going on.

“Darn it! It was just a mirage!” Sylvia said angrily. On top of her thirst and exhaustion, she now has to add anger on top of that, her situation’s only getting worse. She should have expected it was a mirage, but she guessed she was to thirsty and tired to think at that point.

“Look! Sylvia! There’s a coconut tree over there!” Wander shouted again, running off in the direction he pointed. He looked like he was getting dehydrated too.

“Wander, that’s not––!” Sylvia tried to call out, but Wander already tried climbing up the non-existent coconut tree, only to fall back to the ground.

“Rrrgghhh! Is there no end to this gropdarn desert?!” Sylvia yelled to the sky, her voice echoing throughout the landscape.

“Sylvia! Look over there!” Wander said as he pointed in a new direction, his voice now slow and out of energy. 

Sylvia looked in the direction Wander was pointing, which was a huge dune, and she could see behind it was what looked like the top part of a palace. Though it was hard to be sure since its form was hazy and wavy due to the heat reflected off the ground.

“We can ask for water there!” Wander said droopily. He ran off in the direction of the dune, which surprised Sylvia that he could still run since he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Wander, I told you, that’s just gonna be another––” Sylvia called out again, but stopped when Wander got to the top of the dune and suddenly fell down to the other side of it. “Wander!”

Sylvia mustered up the last of her strength to run after Wander as quickly as she can manage and running up the dune drained so much of her energy, but her determination fuelled her enough to get up quicker than she would’ve if Wander was with her at the moment. She finally reached the top of the dune, but by then she had completely run out of energy so she fell and tumbled in the same direction Wander did. After tumbling down the dune for a few seconds, Sylvia finally came to a halt, and she had to spit a mouthful of sand out. She found Wander, upside down with half of his upper buried in the sand right next to where she was. Sylvia pulled Wander out of the sand and brushed off whatever sand was stuck to his orange fur.

“You alright, buddy?” Sylvia asked. Her hands were placed on Wander’s shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m alright, Syl.” Wander answered with a tired smile.

The duo looked in the direction of the mirage, expecting to find nothing there like their previous two attempts. But to their shock, it wasn’t a mirage at all.

In the distance, they saw a humongous palace made of what was presumably granite and other desert rocks. It seemed to be a terraformed structure, formed from some existing plateau and carved out into a regal-looking palace judging by the size and remnants of rough surfaces. On the palace’s outside walls were multiple green and black banners with a red hawk insignia at the center. What surprised Sylvia more was that near the palace, there was an entire armada of spaceships and aircraft resting in the open desert ground that acted as the spaceport. That entire armada of spaceships was big enough to launch a full-scale invasion on an entire planet, or even an entire star system, which caused Sylvia to look at them with a bit of caution in her mind. Even more surprising is that they both looked up and saw silhouettes of gigantic spaceships hovering beyond the blistering blue sky above them, they were so huge that Sylvia was surprised they didn’t notice them sooner. 

The spaceships looked to be mostly giant metal tube-like cylindrical structures with a gigantic opening in the front side, so it was likely that they were used for cargo, to transport goods, or other smaller spaceships, the same way a ro-ro ferry carries cars inside them to travel across the ocean. Wander and Sylvia were still in awe at how massive those spaceships were, they could fit in thousands of spaceships of all shapes and sizes, and hundreds of thousands of people in them, even a dozen of Vader’s Star Destroyers could fit inside them.

Sylvia was honestly getting suspicious seeing all these gigantic spaceships on this isolated desert planet. This armada was bigger than Sourdough’s thousand-year-old armada, and the spaceships themselves were bigger than even Dominator’s ship. There was no way an armada possibly bigger than anything this galaxy’s ever seen could go unnoticed unless they’ve only arrived here fairly recently, and if they did come here fairly recently, why was an armada going to this galaxy anyway? This didn’t feel right for Sylvia, but she and Wander were a bit too drained from the scorching desert heat to really wanna think about it.

“C’mon, Sylvia…” Wander said, his voice sounding raspy now. “Maybe we can ask for water in there.” Wander got on Sylvia’s back and saddle and she began to walk towards the palace.

Sylvia walked slowly but surely, still frying underneath the desert sun. She still can’t shake off the ominous feeling she’s getting from this place, she felt something bad was gonna happen, even though there was nobody in sight…or so she thought.

Suddenly, out of the sand in front of them burst out three hooded figures wielding knives. Sylvia narrowly missed the slashes of their knives as she quickly moved back out of their reach. Despite previously being so drained of energy that she and Wander were on the verge of passing out, this moment was enough to recharge their adrenaline. The three figures landed on the ground, their knives raised in preparation to attack. 

Sylvia could now get a clear look at them, the figures wore grey armored suits, and a part of the suit was a mask used to cover their nose and mouth. They covered their heads with a robe that acted as a hood and mask, and the rest of the fabric was so long that the unused parts became a cape for them. Their only weapons appeared to be simple handheld knives (which looked to be made of a tooth of some sort from its pearly white color), which was a pretty odd weapon choice since 90% of the galaxy always used laser blasters as weapons, and even the ones that do at least use something more effective like swords and spears, but these guys seem to use small knives as their main weapon, as you’d never pull out a ‘last-resort’ weapon first. Their most striking feature was easily their eyes, which were a full dark blue-on-blue, their pupils the only thing that was barely visible. Sylvia, having traveled to many planets in the galaxy with Wander, had seen plenty of weird-looking eyes, but these felt strangely creepy to look at, especially when Sylvia notices that these guys are probably the same species as Vader’s army, which for a moment made Sylvia wonder if these guys worked for him.

One of the hooded men spoke up. “Who are you?!” he asked fiercely.

 “You are trespassing on the grounds of Muad’Dib!” another spoke.

“Woah there, fellas. We don’t mean any harm. We’re just looking for some water to drink.” Wander said, trying to defuse the tension. “So how about we stop tryin’ to fight and just help a friend in need?” 

“Buddy, I don’t think these guys are really interested in making friends,” Sylvia said, still backing away. “Who are you guys?! What is this place? Are you working for Vader?!” Sylvia asked the three hooded men, but got no answer. 

One of them leaped forward with his knife raised in front of him, Sylvia managed to quickly dodge the attack and smacked the man in the face with her tail, which managed to knock him out for a minute. 

“Sylvia!” Wander shouted, distraught from the fighting.

“Sorry, pal, but there’s no other way out of this,” Sylvia reassured.

The other two charged forward and Sylvia and Wander both managed to avoid the knife slashes and stabs that came their way. Sylvia managed to land several hits on them when a window of opportunity presented itself, but unlike Watchdogs, they got right back up again, and they soon managed to strike back against Sylvia with their punches and kicks.  

Sylvia wasn’t in the best condition to fight, she has already been exhausted and dehydrated from their long trek through the scorching desert, so she barely had much energy to put up the best fight. She still put up a shockingly good fight despite her condition.

Soon after, the first hooded man that Sylvia knocked out got back up again and joined the other two, making the fight harder than it already was. Wander and Sylvia fortunately had always been good at dodging attacks, so they have yet to manage to get a single strike landed on them. Wander even managed to pull out a big metal tray from his hat, which he used to protect himself and Sylvia from any incoming knife attacks, and in turn that allowed Sylvia to land some hits on their opponents. Not that it did too much good, they all kept getting right back up. Wander and Sylvia didn’t know how much longer they would last, they already ran out of energy from their desert walk, and this fight was even more physically draining, and the hooded men showed no signs of stopping or even getting tired. Luckily, something stopped the fight before anything bad could happen.

“Stop!” a deep voice shouted, and the five of them stopped fighting to see who it was.

From the direction of the palace came a tall bearded man, with the same attire and blue eyes as the other three hooded men, except his face wasn’t covered.

“Stilgar…” one of the hooded warriors said.

“What’s wrong?” another asked.

“Muad’Dib wishes to see those two,” Stilgar answered, gesturing to Wander and Sylvia, who looked confused at what was said. They both looked at each other and could only shrug an answer.

The hooded warriors calmed down and sheathed their knives, and Stilgar lead all of them to the palace. Wander had calmed down and was glad someone came along to cease the fighting, but Sylvia was still pretty tense, she still didn’t trust anything about this place. And why was who she presumed might be the leader here wanna see them? They haven’t even met. How did they even know she and Wander were outside? This place brings up too many questions for Sylvia to not be suspicious. 

As they entered the palace, they finally got a sense of how huge it was. The hallways are long and the ceilings are at least two stories high, it would make sense if this was terraformed from an existing plateau. The walls, ceilings, and floor, were all made from solid brownish-yellow rock that you’d expect to find in the desert, but the ones that made up the palace were unbelievably smooth like they were carved by the most masterful hands in the universe. They saw more banners in the hallway they walked through, as well as artifacts, statues, and paintings of people, none of which they recognized. So far, this place did not seem anything like what Vader’s forces would have. They couldn’t be more different in fact, as Vader’s forces seemed more grey, robotic, and industrial; but this place felt natural, mystical, and whimsical. That didn’t stop Sylvia from being wary, though.

They finally reached the end of the hallway, where two of the hooded warriors opened up a pair of enormous double doors, the biggest doors Wander and Sylvia have seen, they were at least twenty to thirty stories tall and their width was half their height. But they were shocked even more when they entered what was easily the biggest throne room Wander and Sylvia had ever seen in their lives. The ceiling was at the height of a big city skyscraper above them, both of the floors stretched as far as the eye could see, and at the other end of the room, they could see the vague shape of a throne resting on the top of wide, enormous stairs and underneath three red banners of the hawk insignia with dozens of guards standing on either side along the wall.

On the throne, they saw the ruler sitting there, staring at the newcomers intently. The ruler was a bearded wavy-haired man with the same striking blue-on-blue eyes as Stilgar and the hooded warriors. He also wore a grey armored suit, and on top of that he wore a regal cape with white circular patterns on it and held together with a gold necklace. Besides his throne were two significantly smaller thrones, more chairs than actual thrones. The throne on the left was occupied by a blue-eyed woman wearing brown robes, she looked fierce, the warrior type, and she also appeared to be pregnant; the throne on the right was occupied by a tall regal-looking blonde woman, she looked like she might be a princess, and the strangest thing about her is that she didn’t have blue eyes, instead she had regular white eyes with green irises, which raised more questions in Sylvia’s head. Standing beside the thrones was a tall handsome athletic man with curly black hair and a round but flat face with perfect features and weird red stained lips wearing orange robes, he also didn’t have blue eyes. In fact, this man and the princess seemed to be the only people without blue eyes in this palace as everyone else they’ve seen always had blue eyes.

“They are here, Usul,” Stilgar said to the man on the throne.

“Good, I’ve been expecting you two.” The man on the throne said to Wander and Sylvia.

“Wow! Hey, there! What’s your name, friend? Nice palace you’ve got here. It’s huugggeee!” Wander said, breaking the uncomfortable mysterious feeling surrounding the situation. 

“And whaddya mean you were ‘expecting us’?” Sylvia asked, more confronting than Wander was.

“Of course, allow me to introduce myself.” The bearded wavy-haired man said as he got up from his throne and walked down the steps. “I am Emperor Paul Muad’Dib, Duke of Arrakis, Head of House Atreides, leader of the Fremen, the Lisan al-Gaib, the Kwisatz Haderach, and the Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe.”

“Wow, that’s a lotta titles.” Wander chuckled.

Sylvia crossed her arms and looked at the Emperor skeptically. “‘Emperor of the Universe’? Then how come I’ve never heard of you?” the blue zbornak asked.

“Don’t worry, you will soon.” The Emperor answered simply. Sylvia didn’t like the way he said that, something about it felt ominous.

“Well, nice to meet ya, Paul!” Wander grabbed the Emperor’s hand and shook it roughly.

Stilgar and the hooded warriors called the ‘Fremen’ apparently, didn’t like what Wander was doing, as they began to unsheathe their knives again. “Do not touch Muad’Dib!”

“Hey, back off, buddy!” Sylvia yelled as she stood between Wander and the Fremen guards, narrowing her eyes at them.

The Emperor pulled back his hand hard from Wander’s grasp and stared at him with an annoyed look, which worried Sylvia for a moment, but he gestured to his guards to stand down, which they did, and Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief.

“You will address me as ‘Emperor Muad’Dib’.” He said with a slight irritation in his tone, and that annoyed Sylvia so much that any desire she had to address him formally completely disappeared. “But back to important matters, what are your names?”

“Well, folks call me Wander, and this is my friend Sylvia.” Wander gestured to the blue zbornak. 

“Wander and Sylvia, eh? Are you perchance the two fugitive nomads that travel this galaxy saving innocent lives and defeat conquering warlords?” Paul asked.

“Yep! That’s us!” Wander answered.

“Why, I’ve heard a lot about you two. I’m honoured to be able to meet two heroes of the galaxy.” Paul smiled slightly.

“‘Heroes of the galaxy’? Aw, shucks, it’s nothing that big. We just offer help to any folks who need it.” Wander blushed and waved off the compliment.

“That’s what makes a hero, Wander. A real hero doesn’t seek to help others, they’re called to it, and they answer with no hesitation or ulterior motive. Remember that.” Paul said in a pretty serious tone, and his words made Wander smile warmly.

Sylvia wasn’t as easily fazed by Paul’s words as Wander was. “How did you know about us, anyway?” Sylvia asked.

“Yes, I suppose you’ve been wondering about that. I’ve seen your arrival here, long before you’ve actually come.” Paul explained in a very cryptic way.

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I said that I am the Kwisatz Haderach, the name means ‘the shortening of the way’. I am able to see many possible futures, and ever since we came to this galaxy, every future I’ve seen always had you two in it.” 

Wander gasped loudly with his hands on his cheeks and sparkles in his eyes. “You can see the future?! I wanna see! Here, can you predict what I’m gonna say in five seconds? Five, fout, three, two, one! Did ya guess it? It’s ‘let’s be friends’!” Paul did not look amused at all by Wander’s antics.

“Woah woah woah, move back a bit. You said you guys were from a different galaxy, right?” Sylvia asked.

“Really?!” Wander exclaimed. “Well what brings you fine folks to our humble little galaxy?”

“Do you remember what I said about one of my titles being the Emperor of the Known Universe? Well, my empire spans across many galaxies. Any point of the universe explored and inhabited by humanity is under my rule, and my empire is a constantly expanding one with every new planet, system, and galaxy that’s discovered. But the thing is, while we have explored and inhabited many galaxies, this is the first galaxy my empire has discovered that contains intelligent non-human life.” Paul explained.

“Seriously?” Sylvia asked, this time not in an antagonistic tone.

“So many galaxies yet you’ve never found anyone else until now? That sounds kinda lonely.” Wander said, feeling sad for Paul and his people.

“It’s fine,” Paul reassured, and he continued. “ This is one of the greatest discoveries in the history of all of humankind. I even left my own home planet of Arrakis for the first time in a long time to come to this galaxy myself, to see it with my own eyes, and since I feel that this could be a great opportunity for humanity and the inhabitants of your galaxy. We can make an alliance together, exchange knowledge, expand our strength and numbers, and assist each other in ways never thought possible.” 

“You wanna make an alliance with this galaxy?” Wander seemed pretty interested and excited for that.

“Woah, not so fast there, buddy. Why exactly should we make an alliance with you? We don’t even know anything about you.” Sylvia said.

“My people are constantly looking for new homes. Every planet we find is a potential new home for them, and this entire galaxy is the most habitable one we’ve found, with nearly every planet in it being occupied by life. It seems it could be the best potential home for humanity in the near future.” Paul answered.

“Why, we’d be glad to help your people find new homes,” Wander said.

“But what’s in it for us?” Sylvia asked, her arms still crossed.

“Sylvia…!” Wander whispered, nudging Sylvia’s side.

“Do not worry, Sylvia. I was never planning on just asking something from you without giving something in return.” Paul smiled again, though Sylvia felt that his smiles always felt forced or artificial. “I have noticed that your galaxy has been infested with warlords and conquerors for a while now, is that right?”

“Yeah, there are quite a lotta villains running around.” Wander answered.

“Lord Hater, Emperor Awesome, Sourdough, and Dominator not too long ago. Not a day goes by that one of these jerks don’t try to take over a planet.” Sylvia added.

“Well, I promise you this. I will help you rid this galaxy of every warlord and conquering tyrant, and I shall help bring safety to your galaxy.” Paul raised a hand to his chest.

“You’d do that for us?” 

“Not only that, but I’m going to offer your galaxy the most valuable substance in the entire universe,” Paul said as he pulled a gold locket from his pocket and opened it for Wander and Sylvia to see its contents.

Inside the locket was a very strange powdery substance, it didn’t even look like anything you’d classify as ‘valuable’. The powder had many colors, some were reddish brown, some were violet, some blue, and some orange. The color seemed to change from whatever angle they looked at it.

“What is that?” Sylvia asked, pretty mesmerized by this strange substance.

“This is spice melange. The substance my entire empire runs on.”

“Ooh, spice?! Can we try some?” Wander asked.

“Go ahead, try a bit.” Paul encouraged.

Wander and Sylvia prodded their fingers into the powdery substance and licked what stuck to their fingers. The moment they swallowed it, they could feel something happening to them, to their minds. Sylvia felt like her mind opened for a moment, like she was somehow beginning to see something that was beyond her understanding. But it only lasted for a moment before her mind snapped back to normal.

“Wow! That tasted like cinnamon!” Wander said in amazement.

“I felt like I just unlocked something in my mind,” Sylvia said in a bit of a daze.

“Just a handful of this is enough to make you the richest individual on your planet,” Paul explained further.

“What? No way. This powdery spice stuff is worth that much?” Sylvia asked in disbelief. She had a hard time believing something could be worth that much.

“Of course it would be worth that much. This isn’t just your typical spice. This substance bring enormous health benefits, extends your life, unlocks your mind the way no other substance can, and this substance is required for interstellar travel within my empire. It’s not an exaggeration to say whoever controls the spice, controls the universe.” 

“Really?! Can I have some more, then? That was really good!” Wander asked.

“No, I think you two have had enough for now.” Paul closed his locket and placed it back in his pocket. Wander seemed to deflate from disappointment hearing that.

“Why do you need spice just to travel through space?” Sylvia asked again.

“Unlike your galaxy, our galaxies are much bigger, more vast, and planets are much farther away from each other. We can’t just get from one planet to another just by using a simple spaceship. Did you see those giant spaceships hovering above the sky when you came in?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Those are Guild Heighliners, owned by the Spacing Guild, and they are our galaxies’ only mode of interstellar travel.”

“Gee, that’s too bad, I guess.”

“But that’s about to change. I feel that the spice will help advance your galaxy significantly, and we could use it as well as our differing methods of interstellar travel to prevent anymore conquerors from taking over unsuspecting planets. Not a single soul will have to live in fear of suddenly being conquered.” Paul continued.

Wander and Sylvia didn’t really know what to say right now, they were too busy taking in his words. Wander seemed to be ecstatic about Paul, though Sylvia couldn’t tell if he was genuinely agreeing with Paul or he’s just excited in making a new friend. Sylvia was pretty intrigued by Paul’s goals, though she didn’t feel full convinced.

“So, what say you?” Paul asked.

Sylvia answered first before Wander could say anything. “Well, uh, we’ll consider your request and all, but before we do that…can we have some water first?! I’m parched!”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot why we were here,” Wander said to himself.

“Hm, very well. Bring the travellers some food and water right away!” Paul called to his servants, and with that, Wander and Sylvia were escorted to the dining room.

They were brought before a long rectangular table, filled with many assortments of silverware and fancy-looking glasses, a long piece of fabric that ran from one side of the table to the other, and several plants in vases which was a strange sight to see after a long time walking in the barren desert. Wander and Sylvia sat on two chairs on the same side next to the princess, who sat opposite the pregnant blue-eyed woman who kept giving the princess strange glares (and who, now that Sylvia paid closer attention, Paul seemed closer with than with his so-called wife). Paul, meanwhile, sat in the middle, where he could oversee the entire table, and he looked so regal that all that was missing was a golden light emitting from behind him. The athletic curly-haired man with stained lips, on the other hand, stood behind Paul’s chair on the right (or left from Paul’s side). The servants poured water into Wander and Sylvia’s glasses, and it was some of the most pure-looking crystal clear water Sylvia had ever seen, or maybe that was just her thirst talking.

Wander and Sylvia both immediately chugged down their glasses the second the servants stopped pouring. The water felt so cool and refreshing They forgot they should’ve drank a bit more politely in the presence of royalty, but they were so thirsty that they probably wouldn’t have cared anyway.

“Aahh, that hits the spot.” Sylvia sighed after finishing her entire glass and leaned back in her seat, her and Wander’s mouth completely soaked and covered in undrunk water due to how quickly they drank.

“I’m glad,” Paul said monotonously, although he and the two women on the table gave them weird stares.

Wander and Sylvia both belched loudly. “Oops, excuse me,” Wander said, feeling embarrassed. Paul and the two women just stared at them even more.

“While we’re here, I’ve only just now remembered that I forgot to introduce the people close to me. I apologize for that.” Paul spoke up. He gestured to each person, first to the blue-eyed woman. “This is my beloved Chani. Then he gestured to the curly-haired man. “This is my mentat, Duncan Idaho.”

“Charmed.” Duncan Idaho said with a smile.

“What’s a ‘mentat’?” Sylvia asked.

“Someone who’s been trained to be highly skilled in logic, computing and cognitive thinking far beyond that of an ordinary human. We use them to replace thinking machines like computers. Your galaxy still relies on computers, doesn’t it?” Paul asked.

“Well, I mean, we don’t use them all the time, at least Wander and I don’t, but I’d say yeah,” Sylvia answered a bit hesitantly.

“That’s going to be one of the major advantages in the alliance of our two galaxies, we can help expand and advance your minds in ways never seen before. You won’t need computers or any other thinking machine anymore.”

“Uh…that’s great…I guess.” Sylvia hesitated again, she didn’t really know how to feel about that statement that Paul gave. 

Paul saw that the blonde woman was staring at him, smiling a little, like she was gesturing him to do something, which caused him to sigh. “Oh, right, this is my wife, the Princess Irulan.” Paul introduced her with no enthusiasm at all, while Irulan greetingly smiled at Wander and Sylvia. This pretty much confirm Sylvia’s suspicions, this and the fact that Chani was the pregnant one while Irulan wasn’t. 

“So, what’re we eating? I’m starving.” Sylvia said, now suddenly a lot more energetic and enthusiastic than she was before, trying to change the subject.

“The food has arrived. Why don’t you see for yourself?” Paul said blankly as the servants entered the dining hall with many trays of food and drinks.

Sylvia just realized something about Paul. He spoke really formally and monotonously. Way too formally in Sylvia’s opinion. The way he spoke just sounded really unnatural. Not a single person she’s ever met, even the most stuck-up noble leaders, ever spoke like Paul did. It sort of made listening to Paul pretty unbearable for Sylvia.

The servants placed an entire row of food and drinks on the table. It was like staring into paradise for Wander and Sylvia, there was no way to describe the joy they felt seeing the colorful arrangements of cuisines that were in front of them after spending all day seeing nothing but dry sand. Wander decided to take the fruits, while Sylvia decided to take the sandwiches cakes, which were topped with sugar, seeds, and candied fruits. The servants gave Wander and Sylvia extra glasses and poured two different drinks in the glasses, one was filled with coffee, while the other was what Sylvia presumed to be beer. Paul, the princess, and the pregnant Fremen woman didn’t take the same stuff Wander and Sylvia did, they instead just drank water and wine, and their food was simply rice. 

“So, I was wondering, what’s the deal with your eyes?” Wander asked as he took a bite out of his apple.

“I’m sorry?” Paul asked back.

“I mean…no offense, but I just noticed that you and almost everyone here has completely blue eyes, but Duncan and the Princess don’t. Even Vader’s officers didn’t have them. Is there a reason behind that, because I think they look pretty neat.

“It’s caused by the spice,” Paul answered.

“The spice caused your eyes to turn blue?” Sylvia asked as well while eating her sandwich.

“More precisely, it’s from long exposure to spice. A common symptom of spice addiction, usually. When the spice enters your body, it oxidizes, causing it to turn blue, which then leads the eyes to turn blue. The Fremen live in an environment where spice is everywhere and where it originates from, thus why our eyes are all blue, and Irulan and Duncan’s aren’t, because they weren’t on Arrakis or spice addicts.” Paul explained.

“Woah, that’s pretty cool,” Wander said, looking at Irulan and Duncan.

Sylvia finished her sandwiches and then took a bite from her piece of cake, and the taste was absolutely amazing, it was sweet in all the right ways. It completely mesmerized her.

“Oh, Wander! You’ve got to try this stuff!” Sylvia said enthusiastically with a full mouth.

Wander stopped chewing on his apple and decided to take a piece of cake, and when he took a bite, his reaction was exactly the same as Sylvia, except it almost looked like he was gonna have fireworks burst out of him. 

“Wow! You were right, Syl! These are delicious!” Wander exclaimed.

“Whaddya put in these?” Sylvia asked Paul with her mouth full.

“Those are tabara, a Fremen desert. It’s a honey cake, and it’s stuffed with sugar, honey, fruit, and spice.” Paul answered, not looking up from his meal.

Sylvia nearly spit the food out of her mouth, but luckily stopped herself and managed to swallow it. “This cake has spice in it?”

“Not just the cake, the coffee, the beer, the sandwiches, and a lot of the food in front of you has spice as a primary ingredient.” Paul gestured to the food on the table.

Sylvia looked into her cup of coffee. “You even put it in the coffee?”

“You should feel honoured. Spice-based food and beverage is something only the richest of the rich in my empire usually get to delight in. This is a rare opportunity, you might not get it too often.” Paul said.

Sylvia put her cake down silently. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but Sylvia felt kind of suspicious about how much spice Paul seemed to be trying to feed her and Wander, considering they just said this is apparently a highly addictive substance with long-lasting effects as evidenced by everyone’s unnaturally blue eyes. Wander, on the other hand, finished his piece of cake, licked his fingers vigorously, and went and grabbed four more pieces to put on his plate. He even finished his spice coffee and spice beer.

“Oh boy, this is the best stuff I’ve ever tasted!” Wander exclaimed.

“Wander, I don’t think you should–” Sylvia was about to stop Wander from consuming more of the spice food, but she stopped when she noticed Paul was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. “Heheh…um…I think I need to go to the bathroom. Can you tell me where it is?” Sylvia asked nervously.

“It’s down the hall to the left,” Paul answered, his head resting on his hand, and his dark blue eyes stared at her intently.

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll be right back.” Sylvia said as she got up from her chair and left the dining hall.

“That’s weird. Sylvia said zbornaks only go to the bathroom once every five months, and she only went to the bathroom last month. Nah, I’m sure it’s nothing.” Wander shrugged it off and continued eating his cake.

“Your friend doesn’t trust me,” Paul said, not looking up from his meal.

“What? Oh, Sylvia sometimes can be a little rough around the edges once in a while, but she’s usually pretty friendly to everyone she meets.” Wander tried to explain.

Paul didn’t say anything, he kept chewing his food while looking down, not making any eye contact with Wander. After a while, Paul finally looked at Wander and spoke.

“How old are you, Wander?” Paul suddenly asked.

“What?”

“I can see it in your eyes, you may act like a childish vagabond, but there are a thousand years of history behind those eyes, most bright and good, but underneath there’s something dark that powers the light. What drives you to help people?” Paul asked again.

“I don’t…” Wander was starting to get a bit nervous.

“Even the kindest of heroes don’t just start helping random people out of nowhere. There’s always a driving force, something terrible must exist in order to awaken and power up the greatness within. What was your driving force?”

Wander understood what Paul was trying to ask, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything, he just rubbed his arm and looked to the side. “I don’t know if I really wanna talk about it right now.”

“That’s fine,” Paul said. “That allows me to get straight to the point. I’ve heard you’ve bested many conquerors, tyrants, and warlords, like Lord Hater, Major Threat, Emperor Awesome, and Lord Dominator, many times, yet they’re still running about. Why is that? How exactly do you overcome them? I’ve heard stories, but second-hand stories are never all that reliable, and I prefer to get it directly from the source. So please, enlighten me.” Paul asked, watching Wander while awaiting his answer.

Out in the hallways of the palace, Sylvia snuck around the corridors, avoiding the sight of the guards and the servants constantly lurking around every turn and corner. Sylvia was going around checking every room in the palace, she knew there was something fishy about this place, but she had nothing to prove her suspicions. The fact there was an armada as big as the one she and Wander saw outside was odd enough, but she needed something more concrete. Sylvia checked many rooms , meeting rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms, training rooms, but she still hasn’t found anything that actually warranted suspicion. She came across a large pair of double doors on the edge of the enormous corridor she was in, so she decided that would be worth a try. If she opened them and still found nothing, she’d just go straight back to the dining hall and join Wander again, not that it would get rid of her distrust of Paul.

She kicked the double doors open (although she realized she should’ve tested to see if they were actually locked first), and inside she found an enormous library. Tall shelves reaching the ceiling filled to the brim with books of all sizes, colorful scrolls, cassette tapes, and things that looked like tiny projectors. Sylvia didn’t really know where to start, and there was no way she’d check every book, so she figured there has to be some place around here that’s obvious to start with. In the center of the enormous library, she found a large writing desk (why does everything in this palace have to be so needlessly big? Sylvia thought) that was stacked with many books and piles of paper as well as inks and voice recorders. Sylvia approached it, analyzing the different books. The first book she noticed was called ‘Ecology and Culture of Arrakis’, which if memory served her correct, was the name of the planet Paul came from, so she decided to take a look at it. Sylvia was never too big of a reader, and she knew Paul would start to suspect something if she was gone too long, so she had to look through these books as quickly as possible.

The first book she picked up talked mostly about the environment and conditions of Paul’s home planet, as well as the culture of the Fremen people who follow Paul. Sylvia read out the words that stood out to her most and she felt could be important.

“Arrakis…Arrakeen…sandworms?...Shai-Hulud?...woah, these people had to live alongside giant worms? That’s pretty impressive.” Sylvia thought aloud to herself. She continued to read. “Spice melange…sand trouts?...the spice comes from where?! Okay, now I’m really glad I didn’t continue eating those cakes. Wait, did my sandwiches have spice in them too?” Sylvia asked herself, but quickly shrugged it off because the idea was just too gross to think about and she wanted to get this over with quickly.

“Ah, something about the Fremen! Hmm…sietches…stillsuits? Is that what they’ve been wearing?...woah, it does all that?...crysknife, so that’s what they’re called…made from the tooth of a sandworm…Amtal rule?...a duel…pushed to the limits…” Sylvia read aloud to herself. Sylvia felt she’d read everything important to be found in the book, so she closed it and decided to check out another one.

Sylvia looked at the other books, but only now noticed something about them. “They’re all about him?!” Sylvia exclaimed quietly in disbelief. She looked at the titles, and every single one of them had ‘Muad’Dib’ in the title; ‘A Manual of Muad’Dib’, ‘The Sayings of Muad’Dib’, ‘The Wisdoms of Muad’Dib’, ‘Words of Muad’Dib, ‘Private Reflections on Muad’Dib’, ‘Collected Sayings of Muad’Dib, ‘Muad’Dib, The Man’?! It was all too much for Sylvia. She checked the authors of each book as well, and when she saw who it was, Sylvia groaned and rolled her eyes even more. “And they’re all written by his wife?! Geez, how much of an ego trip do ya need, pal?”

Sylvia saw a book that looked unfinished, still in the process of being written. She checked the title which read ‘The History and Life of Muad’Dib’ by Princess Irulan, which made Sylvia roll her eyes again but she decided this might be the most helpful book to explain what in the world was going on around here.

Sylvia flipped through the pages, only noting whatever looked important to her, and she didn’t understand most of what was written at all. “Let’s see, there’s gotta be something in here…Caladan…House Atreides…son of Duke Leto…Lady Jessica…Bene Gesserit…Kwisatz Haderach…Emperor Shaddam IV…the Harkonnens…the Baron…Feyd-Rautha…Dr. Yueh…Arrakis…bla bla bla…” Sylvia skimmed through the pages. But then she got to the second half of the manuscript, where there were a lot more words and passages which grabbed her attention, and the more she read on the more her eyes widened and more horrified she became. “…the betrayal…the attack on Arrakis…the Sardaukar…the death of Duke Leto…Missionaria Protectiva?…implanted myths and superstitions…the Lisan-al-Gaib…overthrowing and banishing Emperor Shaddam…‘my father’?!...Muad’Dib’s jihad?...holy war of purification?...forty religions wiped out?!...ninety planets sterilized?!...five-hundred worlds demoralized?!...61 billion people killed?!...so far?!’ Oh, no…Wander!”

Back in the dining hall, Wander was in the middle of answering Paul’s questions, Chani and Irulan listening intently as well, but not saying anything.

“Well. y’know, I just try to distract them from doing their big bad evil villain things and all, and encourage them to try fun things and nice stuff instead so that they can see that it’s much better to be good than to be bad.” Wander explained in his usual cheery manner.

Paul and Chani didn’t seem too convinced by Wander, though, as they did nothing but stare at him skeptically. 

“What you’re saying is…you annoy your enemies from doing bad things and that helps them revoke their cruel ways?” Chani asked, which was the first time Wander heard her speak.

“I guess in short terms you could say that. Whatever helps bring out the good in the bad. As you said, Paul, you need a little driving force to bring out the inner greatness in you.” Wander said.

Paul and Chani continued to stare at Wander, although their stares are pretty different from each other now. Chani still seemed skeptical, and it seemed as though she has stopped trying to take Wander seriously. Paul, on the other hand, actually started to seem intrigued by Wander’s technique in a way, as his skeptical stare was now gone.

Paul got up from his seat and faced the wall he walked up to. Paul then asked a question with his eyes closed. “Wander, do you want to help everyone in this galaxy at any cost?”

“Why of course I do!” Wander answered happily with no hesitation.

“You are considered a hero among everyone in this galaxy, Wander. I’ll need the help of someone they can trust.” Paul explained.

“To do what?”

“To spread my message, to let everyone know that I can help them. You want to help your galaxy and so do I. If we want this galaxy to be a safe place where warlords and conquerors shall no longer roam free to take over any world they want, we not only need to join forces to fight them, but give everyone else the strength to fight back too, and not even the most ruthless tyrant shall ever be able to conquer another world.”

“Yeah! We teach everyone to stand up to bullies! And once we do that, we can help change the villains for the better!” Wander added, but Paul didn’t seem too satisfied with Wander’s statement.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Wander,” Paul said plainly.

“What? Why not?”

“The conquerors of this galaxy would simply be too much of a threat to be left alive, no doubt they’d jump at the opportunity to overthrow me and take revenge on you when they see the chance. Besides, I’m making a promise to the inhabitants of this galaxy that I will rid every conqueror in it and bring safety and security to every planet, I’d be going against that promise if I kept them alive, and I doubt the people I promised would be happy about that.” Paul explained.

“But…” 

“You can be a great ally to my empire, Wander. Not only will you help spread the messages of Muad’Dib along with your own messages of kindness, but you can help us take down even this galaxy’s most powerful warlord with ease. Once every conqueror in this galaxy is gone, your galaxy will officially become part of the great Atreides Empire, where it will not only be free and safe from any warlord and tyrant, but it will advance like never before. Technology will increase, political power will increase, the economy will increase, and your galaxy will become more great and powerful than ever before! So I ask you again, Wander…what say you?”

Wander didn’t really know what to answer, he was starting to feel a bit unsettled by Paul and what he seems to be planning. “I, uh…don’t thin-”

Suddenly, the doors of the dining hall crashed open, which made everyone in the room jump. Sylvia stood at the entrance, out of breath but ready to fight.

“Grop, this place is a labyrinth! Wander, stay away from that guy!” Sylvia warned, pointing at Paul.

“What? Why?” Wander asked.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself, Paul,” Sylvia said to the emperor, venom dripping from her voice when she said his name. “Tell Wander about what happened to the people in your own galaxy! Your own empire! 61 billion killed?! Was that your idea of ‘helping’ them? Of ‘improving their lives’?”

“What?!” Wander exclaimed and looked at Paul.

“So you learned about that,” Paul said. He didn’t even sound angry, he sounded sort of…sad, or disappointed.

“Were ya hoping I wouldn’t find out? So you could Wander and I into joining you? Fat chance, buddy! I knew there was something off about you! That armada outside wouldn’t just be used for exploring a new galaxy!” Sylvia shouted. “So why don’t you tell us the truth, Paul? About why you’re really here. You wanna kill us off to expand your empire?!” 

Paul remained quiet for a while, doing nothing but staring at Wander and Sylvia. “The truth? Fine, then, I’ll tell you what’s going on. Remember when I said I had prescient abilities?”

“What?” Sylvia said.

Paul continued, his voice now no longer trying to sound friendly and welcoming, but instead cold, empty, and full of dread. “Even before I ever met the Fremen and became Muad’Dib, I always felt like there was a…terrible purpose that awaited me. But as terrible as it is, I did what was necessary for humanity’s, and now possibly yours and other creatures of the universe’s survival.”

“Necessary?! Sixty billion people were destroyed because of you!” Sylvia retorted.

“Yes, I am fully aware of that. But I didn’t come to this galaxy myself to encourage more destruction, but to minimize it. I feel there is great potential with having intelligent alien life by our side.”

“‘Minimize’? So you’re not against destroying a few more planets and killing a few million more people to fulfil your ‘purpose’, huh?!” Sylvia glared into Paul’s blue eyes, and this time Paul glared back, his voice becoming harsher.

“Do you want to know what I’ve seen will happen should I fail my purpose?! A universe without change, with no future. A universe where everyone is doomed to stagnation and destruction. I’ve seen that universe, every other path besides the one I take now will lead to it! I will do my duty as the Kwisatz Haderach, I will bring the religion of Muad’Dib and the Atreides Empire to this galaxy no matter what, and if I have to destroy sixty billion more lives or ruin their way of life to do my duty, then so be it.” Paul ended with a sinister tone. “I am doing this to save the universe as we know it. Surely you, Wander, who has saved countless lives in the past, can understand. I am saving lives too, I’m saving all lives, but I must take a darker path in order to achieve that. Will you not help me, save the entire universe?” Paul asked, this time with a softer tone.

Sylvia and Wander backed away and stared at Paul, Sylvia’s eyes wide with horror, while Wander’s was filled with disappointment. She realized what Paul really was. He wasn’t just another villain doing evil just for the sake of it. He wasn’t some overgrown spoiled entitled child given too much power like all the other villains were. He was delusional. Completely and utterly out of his mind. He didn’t wanna destroy the galaxy, and he didn’t just wanna conquer it. He wanted to colonize it, bend it to his will, turn its inhabitants into his brainwashed followers, and reshape it into just another piece of his cruel empire and erase any form of unique identity the galaxy had. The thought of that terrified Sylvia way more than Dominator’s near-total destruction of the galaxy ever had.

Paul noticed their faces, and he looked disappointed. “But I suppose you already have your answers. That’s a shame, though I suppose I knew you might never accept.”

“Let’s get outta here!” Sylvia shouted as she grabbed Wander, placed him on her back and ran away as quickly as she could.

“Stop them!” Paul shouted from within the dining hall.

Duncan unsheathed his rapier and chased after them, as he closed in on them in the halls with his rapier in hand, Sylvia turned around and quickly punched him as hard as she could, which sent him flying far backwards. He landed next to Paul’s feet, who was watching what happened from the dining hall’s entrance alongside Chani and Princess Irulan. Duncan didn’t seem to be moving at all, or breathing.

“Duncan? Are you okay?” Paul asked.

“Oh, no! They destroyed Duncan Idaho!” Irulan said in horror.

“Relax, everyone. I’m here.” Duncan said from behind them, walking up the hall, despite his body still lying down on the floor in front of Paul.

“What?! But…how?!” Sylvia exclaimed in disbelief.

“We always have a backup Duncan,” Paul answered plainly.

Sylvia still looked really confused, but brushed it off immediately. “You know what? Never mind!” she said, and she continued running away.

Running down the halls, Wander and Sylvia could hear the marches of a hundred Fremen soldiers coming towards them. Out of every corner and turn, a guard lunges towards them with dual crysknives in their hands, but Sylvia and Wander were had quick enough reaction time to dodge and or jump over them. They continue to run down the halls, now with a whole platoon chasing behind them. Wander and Sylvia looked ahead, only to see another platoon running towards them from the frontside. Sylvia had an idea, she slowed down her running slightly, just enough for the soldiers behind them to be within reach. Once they were near the soldiers running from the front, Sylvia leaped in the air while the two platoon of Fremen soldiers collided with each other. Sylvia ran on top of the soldiers’ heads while avoiding the crysknives of those trying to attack from underneath her. 

Sylvia finally jumped off the soldiers to the hallway behind them, and quickly rushed to the front gates of the palace. She managed to get out of the palace, but Paul’s forces weren’t far behind.

“Wander, now’s the time!” Sylvia said.

“On it, Syl!” Wander replied as he reached into his hat and pulled out the bottle of orbble juice. They weren’t far into the desert and were still under the shadow of the palace, so the orbble shouldn’t pop from the heat.

Wander quickly formed the orbble around them, and they quickly took to the air. But before they could get high enough in the air, a Fremen soldier leaped up in the air as well and popped the orbble with his crysknife, causing Wander and Sylvia to fall back to the ground.

The duo quickly got back up when they saw the soldiers walking toward them, and Paul has now showed up too, joined by Stilgar. Wander got on Sylvia’s back and Sylvia immediately started running, deciding to take their chance in the desert. But again, before they could get far, they were stopped dead in their tracks, this time by a voice unlike anything they’ve heard before.

“S T O P!” the voice shouted, its sound rattled their bones, and they felt their vision going blurry. “C O M E 

 H E R E!  K N E E L! ” the voice commanded again.

Wander and Sylvia regained their consciousness, feeling like they just passed out for a second. They now found themselves on their knees and right in front of Paul, pretty far from where they were previously. Sylvia knew from the look on Paul’s face that the voice came from him, though how or why it managed to sound like that was beyond her.

“Don’t think running to the desert will save you. The desert is our home. My Fedaykin death commandos will hunt you down with ease.” Paul said, his face still as emotionless as ever.

The Fedaykin (as they’re apparently called) all held their crysknives up to Wander and Sylvia’s throats, preparing for their execution.

“Wait, Paul, there’s other ways of helpin’ the galaxy where you don’t have to hurt anyone, not even us or the villains. We don’t have to do this.” Wander tried to reason with Paul while smiling nervously.

“I’m sorry, Wander, but if I let you and Sylvia leave to warn the galaxy of me, it will ruin the chances of getting the it to join my empire willingly, which will only lead to far worse outcomes. I’m afraid I have no choice but to rid of you both.” Paul said, gesturing to his Fedaykin to carry out the deed.

“We could not let you live anyway. Nobody who witnessed a crysknife must be allowed to leave the planet alive.” Stilgar said, staring at Wander and Sylvia coldly.

The Fedaykin troops all raised their crysknives, preparing to get rid of Wander and Sylvia for good. They strike their knives down, but before they land their blows…

“WAIT!” Sylvia shouted, causing the Fedaykin to stop their knives from landing.

“What is it?” Paul asked.

“I invoke the…the uh…oh grop, what was it called? The Ang Tall? The Am tall? The Amtal! I invoke the Amtal! I invoke it!”

The Fedaykin all looked shocked, and they all looked at each other. 

“You know the Amtal?” Stilgar asked. He never would have expected Sylvia to say that.

“Yeah, I challenge you, Paul! If I win the fight, you’ll let Wander and I go, and you’ll leave this galaxy immediately and never come back!” Sylvia declared.

Paul didn’t seem fazed by Sylvia’s challenge, he just looked her up and down, as if trying to look for something. “Are you sure that’s wise? Do you actually know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asked.

“Of course I do! I assure you, buddy, I can beat you at your strongest, in fact I dare you to not pull any punches, I wanna fight you at your strongest, ‘cause I’ll show you that this galaxy isn’t to be messed with! So whaddya say, Paul? You accept? Or is the ‘Emperor of the Universe’ too chicken? Buck buck buck!” Sylvia challenged Paul, and started doing a very childish chicken impression to provoke him, which only got an annoyed stare out of him.

Paul closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was seeing something in his own mind, and then he opened them again. “Very well, I accept. You shall be Wander’s champion.”

Less than an hour later, not far from the palace, in the midst of tall desert pillars of rocks, a crowd of Fremen were preparing to witness the duel between Emperor Paul Muad’Dib and Sylvia the Zbornak. Wander was tied up to make sure he didn’t try anything, and Sylvia practice by herself by punching the air. 

“Sylvia, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wander asked.

“Don’t worry, buddy. Nothing would motivate me more than the idea of punching that creep Paul in the face!” Sylvia said with determination.

Paul finally showed up, wearing his stillsuit but no visible weapons. His face was as calm as ever, but it was ready to fight. Sylvia then saw Chani walk up to her, holding a crysknife, but she didn’t seem to want to attack her.

“I’m giving you this,” Chani said.

“Why’re you giving me this?” Sylvia asked.

“The crysknife is very valued amongst my people. You are very brave to challenge Muad’Dib like that. I want you to at least die with honour holding this.” Chani offered the crysknife.

“No thanks, lady. Appreciate the offer, but you have way too low hopes for me. Besides, I wanna try and take down your emperor with my bare fists. My two most trusted companions, the Lady Haymaker and the Duchess of Wailing!” Sylvia brought up and introduced her fists.

Chani just looked at Sylvia blankly. “That’s a shame, but if you insist.”

“Well, gotta go. I got an emperor who needs some serious butt-kicking.” Sylvia said as she ran off into the ‘arena’.

“Be careful, Sylvia!” Wander shouted.

Sylvia met Paul in the arena, who was still unarmed. It seemed Paul wanted to go about this bare-handed too. His stance was still calm, not the stance of someone about to fight.

“You ready for this, Paul?” Sylvia asked with a confident smile, her fists raised in preparation to fight. Paul said nothing.

Sylvia leaped in the air towards Paul, preparing the strongest punch she could muster up, yelling as she did. She thrust her fist forward to make the punch, only to feel it hit something that instead of hurting Paul, instead ended up hurting herself.

“OOWWW!!!” Sylvia screamed in pain and anger, shaking her hurt hand. She saw what was going on, Paul was now visibly surrounded by a blue energy field that wrapped around his body, which seemed to be completely unharmed.

“A shield?! That’s not fair!” Sylvia complained.

“You said you didn’t want me to pull any punches and to fight me at my strongest,” Paul said.

Sylvia wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. “Oh yeah, I did say that,” Sylvia murmured to herself. 

Paul then pulled out a crysknife, he tapped it on his shield which the shield predictably repels, but then moves the blade to his hand slowly, which it actually penetrates the shield and touches his hand.

“Holtzman Shield,” Paul said. “It repels any fast-moving attacks, and only slow attacks can penetrate it.” He explained further. “The Amtal rule is used to test something’s strength, to push it to its very limits, and that’s exactly what I am going to do.”

“Ooh grop, this can’t be good,” Sylvia said to herself.

Paul leaps towards her with his knife raised, and Sylvia manages to dodge him, as well as Paul slashing the knife in her direction several times. Sylvia ducks another slash and punches Paul in the stomach from below, but again the shield blocks it. The punch was strong enough to knock Paul back, though he was still standing and unfazed. Paul lunged forward again, and when Sylvia dodged him again and Paul ran past her, Paul attempted to strike her from behind, but luckily Sylvia dodged that attack too. Sylvia tried to attack back by throwing punches, kicks, tail smacks, a lot of the powerful enough to send Paul back flying, but the shield kept making her attacks useless, and Paul always got right back up as if nothing happened.

Sylvia was honestly shocked at how good Paul was at this fight. Usually the villains she fought were never great fighter and always had an army or fancy weapons and or superpowers to make up for it, Paul had no superpowers (save for his prescience and that weird voice power, Sylvia guessed) and only had a knife as a weapon, yet he was giving Sylvia a hard time keeping up. Paul wasn’t just quick, he was pretty accurate too with his attacks, Sylvia only narrowly missed getting hit most of the time, it’s pretty clear Paul has been trained to fight for years. Sylvia was starting to feel worn out, no matter how many blows she delivers, the shield always repels them, and she could never bring herself to deliver a slow attack, and even when she did Paul was quick to react, so it was pretty much hopeless, and all Sylvia could do was keep dodging and hope she miraculously manages to destroy the shield or Paul tires himself out, which seemed very unlikely.

Sylvia just noticed something on Paul’s left hand, it was some sort of device with a button on it. She suspected that must be the switch to Paul’s shield, considering that his right hand didn’t have one and she’s pretty sure it wasn’t there before. That seemed like Sylvia’s best option to beat Paul, but the shield was still in the way and there was no way she’d be able to make a slow attack without the risk of getting stabbed by Paul. Or was there? 

Sylvia finally had an idea of what to do. She ran towards Paul with a confident grin on her face, and Paul was preparing to attack. As Sylvia got close, Paul thrust his crysknife forward, which Sylvia stopped by grabbing his arm with her tail and raised it to make sure Paul couldn’t make any moves. Sylvia then grabbed Paul’s left arm with her hands, and while one hand held the arm in place, the other attempted to get past the shield, and it seemed to be working as the shield flashed red and Sylvia didn’t feel her hand getting repelled, all that was left to do was to turn off the shield. Unfortunately, Sylvia forgot to account for Paul’s legs.

Paul kneed Sylvia hard in her chest, and Sylvia winced in pain as she felt the wind knocked out of her. As soon as Sylvia’s grip on Paul’s arm loosened, Paul freed his left arm and punched Sylvia in the face, the shield giving his blow more power, and Sylvia was knocked back, and Paul’s right arm was free now too. Paul lunged forward and made a slashing movement with his knife again, which Sylvia manages to dodge by moving her head back yet again, but then Paul saw an opportunity and struck Sylvia in the head by moving his knife back the way it came and hit her head with the butt of his knife, which managed to knock Sylvia to the ground.

Sylvia’s head hurt real bad, and she could feel herself becoming disoriented. Paul walked over to her, kneeled down with one knee on Sylvia’s chest, as he now held the crysknife with both his hands, raised it high, and then plunged the knife down at full speed, aiming for Sylvia’s neck. Sylvia managed to catch Paul’s hands with her own, pushing the knife back with all the strength she could muster, as Paul did the same. It was quite the struggle, Sylvia and Paul both pushing against each other, all while Paul’s crysknife was mere inches from Sylvia’s neck. Sylvia was sweating like crazy, so much sweat that the Fremen would’ve cried at how much water was being lost, and Sylvia could feel Paul staring to overpower her, but she wasn’t going out so easily. Paul’s knife was now starting to move closer, Sylvia’s hands still mustering up the last of their strength to hold it back, but the knife was slowly moving toward her inch by inch.

Sylvia suddenly felt something strange happen with their hands, and it seemed Paul felt it too, as they both looked at their hands to see what was going on. Sylvia’s hands have penetrated the shield, which was now flashing red, and she could actually feel Paul’s hands. Sylvia realized what happened, the slow movement of their struggle allowed her hand to get past the shield. Sylvia was filled with an inordinate amount of joy and determination.

“Ha ha!” Sylvia laughed victoriously at Paul, and in turn his eyes widened.

Sylvia pressed the button, and she could see the blue energy field surrounding Paul’s body quickly fade away. She quickly took her chance as Sylvia wrapped her tail around one of Paul’s legs, got up to her feet in the blink of an eye, and started slamming Paul back and forth into the ground by his leg. Sylvia slammed Paul into the ground so many times, and Paul finally let go of his crysknife around the fourth or fifth slam and the knife went flying off, landing on the other side of the arena, it kinda scared Sylvia it took that long for Paul to let go of the knife. After repeatedly slamming Paul into the ground, Sylvia then lifted him up upside down by his foot and started punching Paul repeatedly in the face as if he was a human punching bag, Wander and all the Fremen gasped at just how much Sylvia was brutally overpowering Paul. As soon as Sylvia was done punching Paul, she throws him to the ground.

Paul laid face-down on the ground, his face full of bruises, and he could barely get up anymore, let alone fight. It was pretty clear to both of them who had the upper hand now. Sylvia could hear a lot of the Fremen getting angry and starting to yell at her.

“Had enough…Paul?” Sylvia said, out of breath.

Paul did nothing but turn his head around to look up at her, and Sylvia could tell from his look that there was something wrong going on.

“Yes…you have bested me. But now you’ll have to finish the job.” Paul wheezed.

“What?” Sylvia asked, confused by what he meant, though she had a sneaking suspicion of what it was.

“There is no yielding in the Amtal rule, only death is the test of it,” Stilgar said from within the crowd.

“I had a feeling you didn’t fully understand what you threw yourself into, but now there is no going back. Proceed with it, Sylvia.” Paul said, as he managed to get up back to his feet, though his balance was bad. Paul left himself wide open for Sylvia to attack and closed his eyes. “I am no longer able to fight back. Take your chance.”

Sylvia hesitantly raised a fist, preparing to deliver a beating to Paul, but she couldn’t do it. She just stood there, her fist raised but not moving, just shivering in place, and she just stared at Paul nervously. Paul was calm the entire time, and after moments of not feeling anything, he opened his eyes, and Sylvia could tell Paul knew what was going on.

“I knew it. Even with all your great strength and amazing fighting skills, you’ve never actually killed anyone, have you?” Paul asked, knowing the answer.

Paul was right. Sylvia has fought and beaten hundreds upon thousands of enemies, from Watchdogs, robots, and giant monsters, but she’s never actually killed any of them. Even the few times she’s destroyed something, she usually had the pleasure of never directly witnessing it herself. Sylvia still stood with her fist raised, still not delivering the punch. She looked at Wander, secretly hoping he might have a way out of this, and she saw Wander pleadingly shaking his head at her, gesturing her not to do it. Finally, Sylvia had enough.

“RAAGGHH!!!” Sylvia yelled as she wrapped her tail around Paul’s neck and lifted and pulled him right towards her face where they can see eye to eye. Sylvia looked at Paul with complete anger, while Paul still kept on his calm emotionless face. “Alright, fine! I admit, I can’t kill you! But I beat you fair and square! You lost the fight, Paul, and you know it! So keep your end of the deal!”

Paul stared into Sylvia’s eyes, his unnatural dark blue eyes feeling like they’re gazing into her soul. “A true leader must never go back on his word. Very well then, you and Wander are free to leave.”

“Really?” Sylvia said as she made her tail let go of Paul’s neck, she almost didn’t expect Paul to actually fulfil his promise. 

Paul rubbed his neck before continuing. “But unfortunately, the conquest on your galaxy will still continue.”

“What?!” Sylvia exclaimed. “But we had a deal!”

 “We did,” Paul said. “But when you invoke the Amtal, the deal isn’t fulfilled until your opponent has been killed, and since you did defeat me but didn’t kill me, I, unfortunately, can only fulfill half of the deal.”

“B–But…” Sylvia tried to argue, but she knew there was no point. Paul was right, she threw herself into a situation she didn’t fully understand, and she obviously won’t be able to change Paul’s mind. The fact that Paul allowed them to leave at all was already a miracle in Sylvia’s eyes, so she might as well take that chance. But she should’ve expected that nothing that happened to herself and Wander was ever gonna be that easy.

“She committed violence on Muad’Dib!” a Fremen in the crowd shouted.

“She’s a blasphemer!” Another shouted.

“Kill the blasphemer!”

“What?! Oh, come on!” Sylvia said, outraged by the crowd’s response to her victory.

“Everyone, please. She won the fight fairly. Allow them the dignity of mercy.” Paul tried to reason with the crowd, which actually quite surprised Sylvia, but it had no effect.

“I’m sorry, Usul. But any heresy and blasphemy committed against you must be met with death. Besides, they both have witnessed the crysknife many times, yet they still live, and no outworlder must be allowed to leave the planet alive after witnessing the crysknife.” Stilgar said, which the entire crowd all angrily shouted in agreement.

“Oh, grop…” Sylvia murmured nervously to herself, realizing the situation was only getting worse.

Paul looked at the crowd nervously, he seemed to have lost control of the crowd. He turned to Sylvia. “If I were you, I’d get out of here immediately.”

“No need to tell me twice,” Sylvia said, and she did exactly that.

Sylvia rushed towards Wander, who was about to get stabbed by two Fedaykin guards, both of which she punched out, one with her fist and the other with her tail.

“Time to get outta here, buddy!” Sylvia said as she untied the ropes on Wander, placed him on her back, and immediately rushed out of there.

An entire crowd of Fremen had unsheathed their knives and started chasing after them, while Paul still stood in the middle of the arena, doing nothing but staring at them. Wander and Sylvia started running into a narrow passage between two giant pillars of rocks in hopes to slow down the crowd going after them. While they were in there, two Fedaykin jumped down towards them from above, Sylvia jumped up and smacked the both of them away with a spinning swing of her tail. As they approached the end of the passage, they looked behind them to see the crowd was closing in on them.

Wander grabbed the bottle of orbble juice and quickly formed an orrble around themselves, and they immediately took to the air. The crowd behind them tried to jump after the orbble, but to no avail. Suddenly, a Fedaykin trooper jumped up high and attempted to pop the orbble with his crysknife again, but luckily Wander and Sylvia were quicker this time, and they narrowly miss the knife as the Fedaykin trooper fell back to the ground. Several of the Fremen began pulling out small guns which firing darts (most likely poison), but they fortunately seemed to be out of range as the darts fell back to the ground before they could reach them. It seems the guns weren't very long-range.

Wander and Sylvia were now high enough where nobody could touch them, leaving behind a crowd of enraged fanatical Fremen down on the ground below them. They both breathed a sigh a relief, now all that was left to do was to get out of this planet.

From the ground below, Paul looked up at the faraway orbble that was slowly getting smaller the higher it went. He stared at it in silence, but it was clear thoughts were going through his head.

Later on, out in space, Wander and Sylvia strolled in silence, looking back at the desert planet they were on with the dozens of gigantic heighliners hovering above it, a lot of them nearly big enough to fit a planet inside them. Both of them were unsure of how to feel about what just happened or what to do now. Sylvia was the first to speak up.

“Rrgh! That Paul guy makes me so mad! He thinks he’s some high and righteous savior even after killing countless of his own people. ‘Better path for the galaxy’, oh please!” Sylvia ranted, mostly to herself.

“Uh, I don’t know, Sylvia. I mean…Paul wasn’t really that nice of a guy. He wanted to hurt people, to kill all the villains, and I really didn’t like that idea of how to help the galaxy. But at the same time, he wasn’t really evil, he wanted to help people, and he wanted to do the right thing. If we can bring out the good in the villains, then who’s to say we can’t bring out the good in him?” Wander said hopefully.

Sylvia sighed. “I’m sorry, Wander. But just because someone has good intentions, it doesn’t make them any less bad. Sometimes an enemy who isn’t all evil and tries to do good is way more dangerous than someone who’s totally evil for no reason.”

“I’m not sure, Syl. People sometimes get lost and confused trying to do the right thing, and well…if someone’s having trouble doing the right thing, then I wanna help them down the right path, no matter what! Whaddya say, Syl?” Wander asked.

“I’m not sure, buddy. I’m just not sure.” Sylvia answered as honestly as she could.

“But that spice stuff was pretty good, though. I’d wanna try it again sometime.” Wander said.

“Buddy, I think I should probably tell you what that stuff actually was.”

In the palace, Paul sat on his throne, at the end of his ridiculously enormous but nearly empty throne room, that was now darkening due to the setting sun. He was surrounded by all those close to him, Chani, Irulan, Stilgar, and Duncan, and before them at the bottom of the throne’s stairs stood a platoon of Fedaykin, awaiting his announcement.

Paul sat there in silence, a lot of thoughts running through his head, many of them conflicting with each other. He knows what he must do, but deep down he doesn’t want to. He’s tired of feeling guilt weigh down on him all the time. But he eventually decides to repress those feelings yet again and do what he knows must be done for the greater good.

“I suppose there’s no other option,” Paul said to himself before he stood up and unfurled the piece of paper that was revealed to be a wanted poster for Wander and Sylvia, and Paul announced loudly to his followers. “I hereby officially declare Wander and Sylvia as enemies of the Atreides Empire!”

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[hxvemxnd]

" if i could turn back the time, i'd make all right. "

misc lyrics rp meme

No-- no, they...

Did they... Not make the right choice...?

Zazie likes both independent plant brothers. Knives is hive - though Zazie isn't certain he'd like being called that - but Vash is kind and entertaining to watch. Rare is it the being feels conflicted between sides, on who might be better for the planet's survival. But they know the current dying plant is one that much of their own insect hive relies on, so it felt best to inform Vash of the crying plant in hopes he may save it and allow it to continue to provide for them. Though it felt a touch like betrayal to Knives, Zazie found value in the placement of this plant in particular - so best it not be moved. Zazie... thought this would be best for all involved, and the planet as a whole.

The last the insect hivemind had spoken to Vash had been two weeks ago.

Seeing Meryl as they approached the small town made them hopeful, though she looked... Strange. Tired, perhaps? Sad? What reason would she have to be sad?

They have an inkling, but they don't want to face that potential just yet.

Approaching her does no good - they are pointed inside a building by her, with no explanation. Natural curiosity strikes, hopeful they may find Vash and the now-healthy plant that provides such crucial water... Only to find the blond with darkened hair, unmoving and no longer breathing, and an orb that no longer held either a blue nor red glow. Had Vash not made it in time? Had something else happened? They lift their mask and land to walk on their feet out of respect, then come over to inspect. Cold. Despite the heat of the desert town Vash is cold, and it's unsettling in more ways than Zazie can count.

Of course, the avatar is no stranger to death, and they leave their own token of a few beetles and flies to allow Vash to become one with the planet... But that doesn't make this any easier. Especially not as they return to Meryl's side, only to hear her words.

'If I could turn back the time, I'd make all right.'

Does she know it was Zazie's request? That it was their information that led Vash here, and seems to have... Led to the blond's demise? They don't even buzz as they come up behind her, sitting beside her with eyes glued to the ground. What could they say...? The loss of Vash... Was a loss the planet would mourn. Zazie would, and no doubt Knives would be inconsolable...

But the worst of the mourning would be on Meryl, on the Punisher and every human Vash had spent the past months growing close to.

Silent, Zazie places a hand on the girl's shoulder. "We... We are sorry." All they can muster to say, feeling an unfamiliar grief creep up on them. It causes their voice to waiver, breaking as they speak and causing their hands to shake. This... This was an oversight. An inexcusable and unimaginably large loss. They couldn't tell her it was their own tip that led Vash here - but the guilt weighing on that knowledge keeps their shoulders tense and their eyes pointedly away from her.

Humans often needed companionship in this moments, wasn't that right? Even if Zazie was the cause... They shift closer, and tentatively lean their head against her arm. Though comfort is certainly not an insects expertise, compassion and empathy are not outside their abilities. And this human... And the independent... They were quite precious.

"If we can help... Please, tell us."