#like symbolic blood but …. u know

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[averlym]

" just...come here. just sit here with me" (...that one scene from princess momonoke, click for better resolution)

[simcardiac-arrested]

a problem you can’t just solve

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital painting based on the film Ladrones de tumbas. It depicts the character Armando laying in sheets as his guts ooze out of a large hole in his stomach. The blood travels up to his face which is turned to the side in anguish. One of his hands lays near his face. As the gits drip down they transition into a bright red pile of abstract circles and some other shapes. In this pile there are the words "el tesoro". The colours used for the piece are mostly blues with reds for the gore and some purple and greens mixed in. The rest of the piece is a dark void.]

Inktober - Day 10 (Fortune)

Film - Ladrones de tumbas (Rubén Galindo Jr., 1989)

[nyxi-pixie]

rereading my kousano fic god i really ate it up. the metaphors THE METAPHORS. THEYRE IN LAYERS. ughhh

[xxswagcorexx]

gosh i cant stop thinking about red being an old god because. there are SO many things u can work into that concept when it comes to worldbuilding (esp if you work in stuff with ash). like, the idea of red being an old god and ash being a newer god who shares a few practices with red's religion (and also lets be real since this ramble is gonna follow a lot of stuff with greek mythology)/cult is soooo fascinating to me bc it leads to fun things like the same rituals being done but for different reasons is sooooo interesting to me

like for example in my made up symbolism about them, i think that they'd both use blood in their rituals, but have different concepts/ideas for them. like with red's religion, i can imagine that rituals are often done with your own blood and mostly done for blood pacts, as red has a ton of themes of loyalty and that being reflected in his religion is sooo interesting. but on the other hand, ash's religion would use your enemy's blood as a sacrifice/sign of triumph, as well as a sign of loyalty to ash as a god. i think it would fit in so well with his constant hunt on having the upper hand/power and its sooooo. its so interesting to me this concept scratches my brain soooo bad

and going along with the old god thing, i think it would be fun if both of their cults met up enough that they started sharing their cultures with the other, and eventually adopting some of the same rituals into their respective beliefs. red would be the older religion that's not as worshiped compared to ash's (probs bc im thinking of red's religion as more of an ideology than a religion that offers stuff like grace or material goods LOL), but the fact they'd slowly be involved with the other to the point where you can feel the other's religion effect the other even if one has more followers than the other is soooooo. imagine the mythology with them it would go SO HARD

[darabeatha]

[erythristicbones]

i do think it's really funny that JDK as a project started out with Jonas as the main focus and everything else secondary, but then I put my repurposed old edgy OC i adored when I was 12 in it.......and now I'm just like "what if she gets to be super important too? What if she's just as integral to the story?" bc i have no self control

[rafecameronssl4t]

All yours || NFL!Rafe Cameron x DCC!reader

Summary: You wearing Rafe’s initials on your necklace during a Cowboy’s game and people speculating 🤭

Warnings: swearing, other than nothing rlly??

Word count: 1,028

A/n: IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LOVED THUNDERSTRUCK AS MUCH I DID 😆😆😆 If you’ve watched the dcc documentary, who was ur fav??? ALSO send me more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader requests cuz I’m itching to do more even tho I have a few to finish in my drafts lol

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Isn’t this a bit risky?” you manage to say in between heated kisses, feeling his hands grip the flesh of your thigh wrapped around his hip. Rafe’s smirk is palpable against your neck. “That’s kinda the whole point, babe,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, making you shiver as your own lips curl into a smile. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, and reality hits you.

“Fuck, we gotta go. I can’t be late, and neither can you,” you say hurriedly, pushing yourself off from Rafe. You rush to the mirror, frantically fixing your hair and touching up your makeup. Rafe’s presence is suddenly behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist as his face nestles into your shoulder, inhaling the addictive scent of your perfume.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that right?” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “Like, so so pretty. No wonder they put you front and center. You catch everyone’s attention,” he continues, his arm draped over your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror. Both of you, side by side, in your uniforms. You had to admit, the two of you looked hot together.

“Is that why you gave me this necklace? So people know?” you chuckle, your fingers toying with the necklace adorned with his initials. “Mhm, maybe,” he smirks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, they’ll see it for sure. We’re not supposed to wear any jewelry, so it’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” you chuckle as Rafe leans down to press a kiss on your lips. “Good. I want all those guys crushing on you to know you’re mine,” he says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile. “All yours,” you reply before smashing your lips back onto his, losing yourself in the moment one last time.

~

As Thunderstruck reverberated around AT&T Stadium, the energy of the crowd was electric. Rafe, standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the big screen, his gaze unwavering. Throughout the entire performance, he caught glimpses of your necklace multiple times, glinting under the bright stadium lights. If he saw it, that meant everyone else could too.

You moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned performer, every step and twirl executed flawlessly. The crowd’s roar grew louder as you and the other cheerleaders took center stage, but Rafe’s focus was solely on you. The way you danced had him utterly captivated; each sway of your hips, each leap, and every spin had his heart pounding harder than any game.

And then, the moment that nearly made him lose it—you threw your head back (pls tell me u guys know what move of the dance I’m talking abt if u saw the documentary😭 like the part where they hit their Pom Poms on the ground and then do the hair flip?), your eyes locking with the camera, giving a sultry, confident gaze. The big screen captured the perfect shot of you, your radiant smile and the necklace with Rafe’s initials prominently displayed on your chest. It was a declaration, a bold statement that you were his.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he felt a rush of pride and desire flood through him. His initials on your necklace weren’t just an accessory; they were a symbol of his claim, a visible marker for everyone to see. The sight of it sent a jolt of possessive excitement through him, making his blood run hot.

As the music reached its crescendo, you finished the routine with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in applause. Rafe’s teammates nudged him, laughing and making comments about his obvious distraction, but he didn’t care. His eyes remained locked on you, taking in every detail, every shimmer of the necklace that told everyone you were his.

When the performance ended, and you made your way off the field, Rafe couldn’t wait for the game to be over. The anticipation of seeing you, holding you, and showing you just how much he appreciated you was almost too much to bear.

~

“Really, kiddo?” Your dad, the Dallas Cowboys coach, gives you a disapproving nod, his presence commanding even in casual moments as he leans against your car. “What?” you respond innocently, unlocking the car and tossing your bag into the backseat, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. You meet his gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know exactly where this conversation is heading.

You’ve been on the team long enough to know the uniform policies. Hell, I’m not even on the cheerleading squad, and I know you aren’t supposed to wear any jewelry with your uniform,” your dad continues, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance was something you’d usually see when he’s lecturing his team, not his daughter.

You let out a sigh, mirroring his stance as you cross your arms too. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. It’s just a necklace.” “Just a necklace?” he repeats, incredulous. “Kiddo, you know the rules are there for a reason. It’s about professionalism and safety. What if it gets caught on something?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a mix of irritation and guilt. “Shouldn’t Kelli be telling me this? Not you?” Your dad chuckles, a rare moment of humor breaking through his stern demeanor. “You’d be glad it’s me talking to you and not her. You know how strict she can be about the rules.”

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Kelli had a reputation for being strict but fair, and you didn’t want to risk your place on the team. “Okay, fine. I get it,” you concede, your voice softening as the weight of his words sinks in.

~

Later that night, you sink into the comfort of your bed, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, deciding to unwind by catching up on messages and social media. A few notifications catch your eye—messages from your close friends on the team.

Curious, you open the first message, which contains a Twitter link. Your fingers tap the screen, and the app loads quickly. Your eyes widen slightly as you see your name and Rafe’s name trending all over social media.

You click on another link, leading to a video clip from the game earlier. The footage shows you performing, the camera zooming in just as you throw your head back and lock eyes with the lens, your necklace with Rafe’s initials gleaming under the stadium lights.

The next day, Kelli was furious, to say the least. Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration as she called you into her office. “Y/n, this is unacceptable,” she said sternly. “You know the rules, and you deliberately broke them.”

“This is your official warning,” she continued, her tone unyielding. “The PR team had to work overtime to manage the situation. They even went as far as photoshopping the necklace out of the official pictures taken of you.”

You spent the rest of the day practicing with renewed determination, vowing to stay focused and follow the rules. During a break, you checked your phone and saw more messages from friends and fans. Despite the reprimand from Kelli, the support from your friends and the fans’ enthusiasm about your relationship with Rafe was heartwarming.

“Hey,” you jump slightly, feeling a pair of hands wrap around your waist. “Jesus, Rafe. Don’t come up behind me like that!” you chuckle, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses kisses against your jaw.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Rafe murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Seriously, guys?” You pull away quickly as Kelcey walks into the room, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Sorry,” you awkwardly chuckle, your cheeks flushing as Kelcey shakes her head, brushing it off with a smile.

“It’s fine. Just didn’t expect to walk into a lovefest,” Kelcey teases. “Okay, go away now,” you jokingly shoo Rafe out of the room, but before he leaves, he presses a quick kiss on your lips, making you let out a little giggle.

As Rafe exits, Kelcey crosses her arms, a playful smile on her face. “You guys are cute, and apparently the whole internet thinks so too,” she says with a wink. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a bit overwhelming, honestly.” Kelcey laughs. “Overwhelming? Try trending. You two are practically the new royal couple of Dallas.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s wild. I never expected this much attention.” Kelcey nods, her expression softening. “Just enjoy it. It’s not every day you get to be part of a fairytale romance that everyone’s rooting for. Plus, it’s clear Rafe’s crazy about you.” You smile, warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah, he is. And I’m crazy about him too.”

[hoshifighting]

heyy i hope you’re having a great day/night ✨

i was wondering if u could do an ot13 reaction to the reader having a tattoo on their booty cheek that represents them

ex: 🍒 for scoups and 🍊 for seungkwan

thank you and take care 🫶🏾

Seventeen's reaction, when you get a tattoo on your booty cheek, representing them.

Seungcheol

 when seungcheol sees the small cherry tattoo on your ass, he smirks, eyes darkening. "a cherry, huh? just for me?" he murmurs, tracing the ink with his fingertips. the possessiveness in his gaze is unmistakable. he grabs your hips, pulling you close, and whispers in your ear, "now, i have to make sure everyone knows who this belongs to." his touch turns rougher, spanking your ass lightly, "you're gonna remember this every time you see that tattoo."

Seungkwan

 upon seeing the cherry tattoo on your ass, seungkwan blinks in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "oh, really? you went and inked my favorite fruit right there?" he chuckles, his eyes gleaming with delight. "and only for my eyes, huh? how flattering." his touch is mischievous and teasing, fingers running lightly over the tattoo, "can't wait to show you just how happy this little tangerine makes me."

Jeonghan 

when jeonghan sees the delicate angel wings on your ass, a symbol of him, he chuckles softly, tracing the lines with his fingers. "you really did this for me?" he asks, his voice amused. "guess i'll have to reward my angel properly," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. he makes sure you feel every moment of his appreciation for the tattoo.

Joshua

 joshua's eyes widen slightly at the sight of the small cross (or deer, idk) tattoo on your ass. "oh my god! y/n what is it?" he asks, his gentle demeanor doesn't stop him from gripping your hips tightly, pulling you against him. "interesting choice of placement," he purrs, his fingers tracing a slow path around the inked design. "and just for me, huh? how flattering." he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

Jun

 jun's reaction is immediate and intense when he sees the cat tattoo. "a cat? for me?" he says, he chuckles, maybe not believing. he wastes no time, his hands rough as they caress your skin. "you're gonna regret teasing me like this," he growls, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses and bites over the tattoo.

Hoshi

 gets, really turned on, and you know why. hoshi's eyes light up with mischief when he spots the small tiger tattoo. "a tiger for your tiger, huh?" he teases, he grips your ass, squeezing it firmly, but also with care with the tattoo. "i'm gonna make you roar tonight," he promises, chuckling. (he would also accidentally end up talking about it in a circle of friends when he was drunk. – he could even cry, depending on the alcohol level in his blood.)

Wonwoo

 wonwoo for a moment can't believe you did that, he even thinks it's a fake tattoo, as he runs his fingers over the tattooed skin. "you're crazy..." "you really are something," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. – now loves every position where he can see the tattoo on your ass.

Mingyu

 his reaction is a mix of surprise and arousal when he notices the tattoo. "you got this tattoo just for me?" he chuckles, but the playful tone quickly shifts as his eyes darken. "you’re so naughty," he says. he leans in, biting the skin around the tattoo lightly, making you gasp. "i'll have to show you how much i appreciate it," he whispers, his hands sliding over your body, making sure you know exactly how much the tattoo turns him on.

Woozi

 woozi's eyes widen when he sees the musical note tattoo. "you didn't..." he asks mouth opened, with flushed cheeks. his hands are delicate, pulling you against him. "guess i'll have to play you like my favorite instrument," he whispers, kissing your neck.

Minghao

 "now, i know you're a bit impulsive, y/n," minghao whispers, his words half-teasing, half-admonishing. "but a tattoo, really? you do realize it stays on your skin forever, don't you? and just for me?" the slight scold is tempered by his shy giggling, a sign that any faux exasperation is just for show. he touches the tattoo, his touch soft and tender. "it does look beautiful though, and knowing it's a mark just for me...well, it's cute."

Seokmin

 as seokmin takes in the tattoo, his eyes grow wide with surprise and excitement. he gasps dramatically, his mouth forming an exaggerated "o" shape. "oh my goodness! it's so cute!" he exclaims. he playfully reaches out to touch the tattoo, giggling uncontrollably, his touch delicate and playful. "i can't believe you actually got this cute cherry! it's the most adorable thing ever!" he jumps up and down, unable to contain his joy and enthusiasm.

Vernon

 he reaches out, tentatively touching the ink, gently pressing his fingers against your skin to see if it's real. you wince slightly, the sensation of his touch registering on your skin. his eyes widen in surprise and disbelief as he realizes the tattoo is indeed real, and that you have marked yourself with it for him. "oh my gosh…you actually did it," he whispers in disbelief.

Chan

 as you and chan enter the bathroom, because 'you needed to show him something'. you lower your pants, revealing the tattoo on your ass. chan's eyes widen, and he inhales sharply, before he can respond, he bites his knuckles, a quiet gesture of shock. he quickly turns away, allowing himself a moment to process the sight before him. 

[hisui-dreamer]

his cleaner shrimp

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away

Tags: fluff, comfort, humour(?), Floyd calls you shrimpy, mentions of blood, Floyd and Jade fought, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: more floyd fluff! this fic was originally angst can u believe it anyways i was inspired to do a classic shoujo manga scene hehe

Masterlist

'I did nothin' wrong!' Floyd thought to himself.

In the shadowed back alley, Floyd sat curled up against the wall, his emotions roiling like a stormy sea after a heated confrontation with Jade. Anger still boiled within him, but the sting of his injuries dampened his spirit.

His left cheek was swollen and discolored, a vivid shade of purple and blue, with a raw, angry red spot where Jade's knuckles had landed with force. A small cut near his eyebrow oozed blood, giving his face a gritty and battle-worn appearance. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied as well, the skin was broken in places from the forceful punches he had thrown.

He nursed his wounded pride, nursing his bruised ego, and found solace in the alleyway alone, away from prying eyes. If anyone had dared to even look at him funny, they would be met with a fierce glare from his mismatched eyes, as if daring them to challenge him to a second fight.

But it seemed his glare wasn't intimidating enough, as your shadow started approaching him, prompting him to look up from the floor. You were a small thing in Floyd's eyes, not the best target for a fight, and definitely easy to throw around.

'Pshh... Just small fry...' he thought as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Uhh, hey there," you said hesitantly, holding out a plastic bag Floyd could only assume contained first aid supplies from the red symbols. "I couldn't help but notice you're hurt. Your injuries might get infected if you leave them untreated."

Floyd's initial gruffness wavered slightly as he glanced at you, surprised by your concern. But he didn't want anyone's pity or help, especially not from a stranger. "I don't need any help from small fry like you," he retorted, trying to sound tough and dismissive. "I'm not that weak."

Still, you continued taking steps closer, kneeling down next to him to stare directly into his eyes. "Even strong people can get infections, you know," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It'll hurt more then, so it's better to have it treated now."

Floyd hesitated, torn between his pride and the growing realization that he did need help. Perhaps it was the adrenaline passing, but he could feel his bloodied hand throbbing in sharp pain. He cast a hesitant glance in your direction, taking in the softness and understanding in your face. In that moment, he decided to let his guard down, just for a little bit.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, begrudgingly extending his injured hand toward you.

Your touch was gentle and sure, and as you cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic, you made sure to warn him of the incoming sting, though he seemed unaffected by it all. Despite his efforts to stay aloof, Floyd found himself feeling strangely comforted by your presence. As you continued to patch him up, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, a soft and fuzzy feeling that he couldn't explain. He wondered if that was the infection you had warned him about, but it didn't feel bad or painful; instead, it felt like a balm for his tired soul.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you couldn't help but ask about the cause of the fight.

"So, what happened?"

Floyd looked at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. However, the trust he had found in your compassion made him open up.

"Shrimpy's curious, huh..." he replied with a small smile. "Okay, I'll tell ya, but only cuz you're Shrimpy."

You blinked at the peculiar nickname, amused and intrigued. "Shrimpy? Is that... me?"

He nodded happily, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile wryly at the odd choice of nickname.

"I had a fight with my brother," Floyd finally admitted, his smile fading into a pout.

"It's Jade's fault!" he yelled, his frustration evident in his voice. "He kept using those weird ingredients in his cooking, even though I hate 'em! I kept tellin' him, but he didn't even listen."

He paused, his voice turning quieter as he continued, "So I broke one of his terrariums to make him stop, but he got really angry..."

You listened attentively, humming as you carefully cleaned the wound on his face. "And so you two fought... I understand how that could be frustrating," you said softly. "You know, cooking takes a lot of time and effort... I'm sure your brother just wanted you to enjoy it like he does."

Floyd glanced at you, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. He couldn't ignore the gut feeling that maybe you were right.

"Yeah, maybe he did," he conceded, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "But it's still annoying he doesn't listen to me."

You nodded, understanding his frustrations. "Of course, it's not nice that Jade disregarded your feelings," you replied gently. "But you should respect his feelings too. Breaking his terrarium wasn't the right way to handle it."

Your words struck a chord with Floyd, and he felt a pang of remorse for his impulsive actions. He knew better than anyone else how much time and effort Jade devoted to caring for his cherished terrariums, often staying up late into the night to tend to them.

"Aww man... Shrimpy's right," he muttered, feeling the weight of his mistake. "Jeez, what do I do now?"

You offered a reassuring smile, glad that his anger had dissipated. "It's never too late to make things right. The best place to start is always an apology," you suggested. "There, all done," you murmured as you finished placing an island dressing bandage on his face, a smile forming on your face at the job well done.

Floyd, meanwhile, stared at you in a daze, your close proximity allowing him to notice all the little details on your face. He felt his cheeks warm as a gentle affection slowly bubbled inside him. Your genuine care and gentle touch had triggered something deep within him, and he found himself feeling drawn to your presence.

"Floyd!" a familiar voice broke him out of his daze. "There you are!"

Jade stood at the front of the alley, slightly panting as if he had been rushing around. You nudged Floyd gently, having recognized that the man must be his brother, and gave him a reassuring nod.

Floyd glanced at his brother, momentarily torn between his pride and guilt. But he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice steady as he said, "Jade, sorry... I shouldn't have broken your terrarium, and it was wrong..." He confessed. "But I don't want to eat any of those weird things again!" he exclaimed with a pout.

Jade's initial surprise gave way to a soft smile, appreciating Floyd's rare willingness to apologize and make amends.

"I understand, Floyd," Jade replied, his tone more understanding now. "And I apologise as well. I should have listened to you and respected your preferences."

Floyd's pout softened as he realized that his brother was willing to meet him halfway. "Really?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Jade nodded. "Yes, really. Though I do not wish to, I will stop using mushrooms for your meals."

"Wait..." you blurted, turning to look at Floyd. "This whole time, the weird ingredients you've been talking about are mushrooms?"

At he nodded furiously, your incredulous expression only intensified. "But mushrooms are so delicious! Why would you hate them?"

Before Floyd could even start to complain, Jade approached you and clasped both of you hands, his eyes alit with surprise and excitement. "I'm delighted to meet a fellow mushroom lover! Would you like to join me on a mushroom foraging trip in the mountains?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. As you tried to muster up a response, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you backward to meet his sturdy chest. It was Floyd, and you could feel his warmth and presence enveloping you, his chin resting on top of your head, his hair tickling your forehead.

"No way! Go get your own Shrimpy! This one's mine!" Floyd exclaimed, his arms tightening around you possessively to prove his point.

Jade's lips spread into a wide smile, his sharp teeth showing playfully. "Now now, Floyd, I do believe you've broken a precious terrarium of mine," he hummed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's only fair that you give me something for reparations."

"Nuh-uh! As if I'd let you steal my Shrimpy!" Floyd said. In a fluid motion, he picked you up and started running off with you, while you scrambled to hold on tight to him.

You couldn't help but squeal as the unexpected playfulness unfolded. "W-wait! Floyd! Put me down!"

"Nope! You're my cleaner Shrimpy now! I'm not lettin' you go!" Floyd declared, his voice lighthearted and full of joy.

Maybe you should have been more concerned by his words, but you found yourself so captivated by his joyful and innocent laugh, that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles with him.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[loveemagicpeace]

💕Life Events🌊

💕4th house represents how u live and your comfort & how you are used to living - Taurus in 4th house - means you are used to comfort, money, luxury and material things. Which means that you like a home that is luxurious, in which you feel safe and warm. It would be difficult for you to live with someone who would not give you comfort. You like to take time for the things you like and you really don't like it when people chase you or give you the feeling that you are limited by time. Especially if your moon is in Cancer, it's hard for you to be with someone who doesn't have that nature.

Aries in 4th house - you are most used to your home being fiery, warlike and often able to do things for yourself. U are very independet and maybe you will find your home faster. Aquarius in 4th house- u may always feel like outsider in your family. But at the same time you will feel that you want to live a very unique life. And you will feel comfortable only in an environment that will be very different from normal.

🌊Water moons are often nostalgic. Which means that in some way they will always be looking for something that reminds them of the past and memories. Many times they can live for memories and people in their memories.

🏝️Geminis & libras will always be subject to society. And sometimes it will be difficult for them to go outside of it. Especially libra , it is difficult for you to be something other than what society expects of you. Because you want to impress others and you want them to be happy. Both signs are strongly associated with relationships and communication.

✨Aquarius are the only sign that knows how to be something that others don't dare to be. They like to go outside their comfort zone and like to be different from the others, not many times they do something that is the opposite of what society does.

❤️‍🔥Sagittarius can easily talk about illegal things - it's not a taboo topic for them. They like discussions that are more dangerous or not so loud. They themselves are also very open to the world and other cultures and can quickly adapt to other surroundings. People with a lot of Sagittarius live a hectic life with lots of adventure and exploration. They usually move at least once, if not several times.

💛The situation of the Sun in the birthchart often relates to the individual’s experience of the father—not necessarily the actual father, but all the people who played that role. Often the mother will actually play the father role, in which case it is that relationship which will be symbolized by the Sun.

🍸The 6th house denotes sickness, your body , your relationship with the body, how you take care of your body. The 8th house surgery, death, needles, blood. The 12th house hospitalization, isolation from people, prison.

🦋Scoprio North Node- have the ability to "tune in" to the hidden thoughts of others. When they stand near someone, if they open up to receive that person's energy they will know his or her character and motives. They want to "fix" the other person—their way. They have many ideas about how to alleviate the other's pain and better the situation. These folks know how to create success. However, if they get a bad feeling or begin to lose energy, it's a warning. It’s important for these folks to pay attention to people's motives. They project that others operate from the same values and are always being honest. But when they take the time to study people's motives, they can tell what people pretend to be and what they really are.

🎸Fire is an emotional element, but it tends toward the more active and dynamic emotions—anger, joy, ebullience, and enthusiasm. It has a harder time dealing with sadness, depression, or the kind of feeling that comes from quiet contemplation of one’s surroundings. Fire people do not like to show sadness or grief: their typical response is to make fun of their own unhappiness. 

🪐Symbol earth, signifies limits to our freedom (in which regard the element earth is related to the planet Saturn). We cannot do whatever we wish or go wherever we want because we are constrained by our own materiality and the materiality of the world around us. Earth is passive: it needs to be acted on and formed by an external energy. Virgo and Capricorn especially are inclined to sacrifice emotional needs when these come into conflict with their view of reality. 

☁️Air is associated with thinking and logic, and as such it is less personal than fire.In this way air is similar to earth: both are primarily concerned with a reality external to the self. Fire and water are more concerned with personal, inward kinds of truth. Although air is very social, it is sometimes unable to handle real intimacy well. Libra is the only air sign in which the drive for close, personal relationships is strong, but even here there is a detached, non-intimate quality often obscured by the cleverness of the sign at being winning in social encounters.

🌙Water is the most yin of the four elements. And it is in some ways the most difficult to understand. The water people are poor at communication or unwilling to communicate. Because water represents non-linear, non-rational, non-discriminative modes of thought—the very antithesis of air. Water is the best at feeling relationships and the ways every thing interacts with every other thing. Often the best way for water to communicate is by means of art, especially poetry and music. Water people therefore have to live in a relatively clean psychic environment. If they are surrounded by disturbed people, water types will pick up the disturbance as if the energies originated within themselves. In this way, a water person can be made to feel physically and/or psychologically ill even when actually very well. More than any other element water is associated with the soul—the eternal, unchanging background that exists forever, against which the drama of individual life is played.

🌱Mercury creates smells, sounds, tastes, textures, and the like. In this way we are quite literally the creators of our own experience. All our knowing, experiencing, sensing, believing, or disbelieving is done through signs which represent actual facts, experiences, or entities in our minds.

🥊In a healthy body, Mars represents the vigor and vitality of movement, and especially the muscles. But it can also manifest as irritations, inflammations, infections, and fevers. Mars can be one of the principal significators of operations and accidents.

🫧Mars and Saturn rules over tattoos, needles, blood everything related to that. People who have dominant Mars sign or a lot of Mars energy/ aries energy or people who have Capricorn placements or Saturn energy are usually more more prone to have tattoos or piercings.

🎱The difference between Capricorn and Virgo is the Capricorn rules over success, image, public speaking everything that is related to public, but it's not related to appearance and how you look. Capricorns don't care how they look, but how their energy comes forward. Virgo on the other side rules over physical body so they are more prone to worry about how they look and how their clothes look like.

☂️Jupiter has also been associated with medicine and healing, the reintegration of the body after illness or prevention of bodily disintegration.

💍Juno is associated with marriage and partnership between the sexes. I find that, especially in women’s charts, it often indicates an ambivalence about whether to be associated with someone or to be free. In a man’s chart, it often describes the kind of marital partner he will choose.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🫧🌙☁️

[chiscaralight]

hello ^=^

I really like your writing very much!

Can you write about Model!reader x mafia! scaramouche?

The idea is kind of strange but I can't stop imagining Darling as a famous model all over Teyvat who was in a toxic relationship with a famous actor but the media covered it up until Darling met Scaramouch by chance When she was in a bar and she did not know that it was his property because the Fatui is a dangerous gang known for its dirty methods

Or maybe she witnessed a murder and he had to avoid the possibility of her exposing him so he kidnapped her.

I don't know if you're comfortable with this or not but can you add a part where Scaramouche order Darling to lick the gun?

hi thanku sm! this is definetly out of my usual writing comfort bubble but I absolutely love the idea. i like both of your concepts so I tried to combine them. i also didn't directly make darling lick the gun bc of him, but it was definitely in their mouth lmfao i hope at the very least it works for you! once I saw the ask I literally went to take a walk to think about to do with it lol. but it was so so much fun! thank u for this ask<3

mafia!scaramouche x model!reader nsfw. its kinda long imo. gun play. mentioned assault, cheating?kind of. oral m receiving. fingering. mentions of blood tasting?, uhhh probably missed some tags but enjoy!

there's nowhere you can go where you're not getting recognized. granted, you're almost world famous. a gorgeous model that everyone is pining to be. perfect face, perfect body, in the sweetest relationship with one of the biggest actors. everything was supposed to be amazing! but that stupid man you call your boyfriend is making your life a living hell.

you're sliding the sleeve of your dress a little lower to hide the bruise he gave you earlier as you lean against the bar. the place has the perfect atmosphere for a lovely date night. too bad when that brute gets here it'll be anything but fun. speaking of which, where is he? you'd been sitting alone at the bar for almost half an hour and while he was an asshole, he knew how to keep to time.

so you decide to go outside and wait. it'll be nice to get some breeze after being cooped up in the atmosphere of the building alone will be nice before the inevitable change of tide. your heels are clicking down the sidewalk, masked by the sound of cars passing by and signs buzzing. then you hear it. it sounds like, shouting, arguing? it's coming from the alley up ahead.

you're trying to keep your noise to a minimum as you peer your head into the alleyway. there you see... your boyfriend????

he's on his knees, being held down by two men. there's a woman, who's frantically explaining how he tried to touch her, and that's when you see the crest on her jacket. your eyes widen. the fatui. they're insanely bad news. you've heard all about them through the grapevine, about how tight-knit they are and super secure. so why was the man who was holding the gun towards your boyfriend's head not wearing the symbol anywhere at all?

before you can even process the thought, the loud bang from the gun is ringing in your ears. you can't control the gasp you let out, and all four people that are still alive are snapping towards you.

your lip is sucked in between your teeth as you're holding back tears. the same gun that has been in this man's hand is pressed against your powdered forehead in silence. it's the other lady who speaks first, muttering something about how your 'man' is a criminal. the only words you can get out are:

"i know."

now scaramouche's interest has been piqued. he nudges you with the barrel of the gun and you're looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. you're a pretty thing like this, near the end of your life but still so composed and meek. you drag your sleeve up, and you catch the way his eyebrows furrow. the lady's head turns in confusion as you speak.

"the bastard has been abusing me for months. even if you kill me now, i'll die happy knowing that bastard is rotting in hell."

another wave of silence.

scaramouche drops the gun. he orders the two other underlings to let you go and dispose of the body behind you. he whispers something to the last fatui before she nods and helps you up. a breath you didn't know you were holding escapes your lips and she tells you to follow her.

you're back in the bar, but away from all the eyes of the public. it's somewhere secluded, the area calm and decorated as you wait. you don't know what for, but you're waiting. you expect to see the lady from before, but what you're met with is that man again.

you soon learn his name is Scaramouche, one of the higher-ups in the organization. you're both staring at each other again and in the blink of an eye, his gun is pointed at you once again from the other side of his room. he's not going to shoot, obviously. he's testing you.

and you pass with flying colors! your demeanor doesn't shake once. your eyes are locked onto his and your body is still. he's closing the gap between where you're sitting and him, and the tension in the air is thick. soon enough, the muzzle of the gun is mere millimeters away from your lips. he's looking down at you. and you blink up sweetly at him before you drag your tongue along the side of the barrel. he can't hide the smile that pushes against his lips. he's going to have so much fun with you.

your lips are wrapped tightly around his cock, sucking as good as you can while the firearm is pressed to the side of your head. he's sitting back on the sofa so lazily, watching as you bob your head so perfectly. he's wishing he shot that deadbeat boyfriend of yours weeks ago when he had the chance, maybe he wouldn't have had to wait for such a perfect mouth to suck him off like this. his free hand slides to fist your hair as he draws closer to his climax. the tight grip causes you to moan around him, and he's cumming into your mouth, cum sliding down your throat as he fucks his orgasm into your mouth. but the two of you are far from done.

your dress is bunched up above your hips, giving him the perfect view of the cunt he's bullying. he's thrusting into you hard, finger resting on the trigger as the gun lays softly against your tongue. he's groaning, reminding you it's fully loaded, and the only thing you give him in response is the small view of your tongue circling the barrel. you're the one with the deadly weapon aimed at you, but he's almost sure that you're going to kill him like this. how many times do you get to see such a doll like this, taking you in so well as their life literally lay entirely in your hands? your eyes are struggling to stay open and you're clenching around him extra hard, so he leans down to give you one word. cum.

the way this one hits you is unlike anything you've ever felt before. it's nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure as you arch up into him.

when you finally come to, he pulls the gun away to aim it at his head. your eyes go wide as you can see his finger weigh down on the trigger. you're attempting to stop him, weak arm reaching at just as soon as he-

nothing.

the gun was empty the entire time. and the laugh he lets out is so annoying, that you're almost pushing him off of you. don't scowl at him like that. it doesn't fit that pretty face of yours. but he tells you not to worry! because the next time he has you like this, hell make sure the gun is fully loaded. and it'll be in your hands, not his.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Ten || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

tw: mental decline, depression discussed, toby’s a real creep in this one sorry, stabbing, blood, brief descriptions of gore, murder

<— previous chapter

It was not hard to see you were distraught. You stayed curled in your comforter, the safety of your bedroom the only source of comfort you could truly find. The boys tried to provide as much warmth and care as possible, going as far as to take shifts watching you sleep. Even with their watchful eyes guarding you, it didn’t make the nightmares go away. It didn’t make the static go away. It didn’t make the paranoia go away. Anywhere and everywhere you felt like you were being watched. You had disappeared off of the face of the planet, ignoring your job and Nova. The only two other people that cared about you.

You refrained from leaving the apartment, the fear of running into The Operator making you into a recluse. Toby knew there was no stopping it. The damage had already been done. The Operator had a fixation on you, there was no doubt about it. He toyed with the idea of how exactly he would come find you, with you living in a crowded apartment and all. The more Toby thought about it, he tried to put himself in his shoes. If he couldn’t get you out, what else would he do? As Toby’s gaze circled around your bedroom it hit him. He would lure you out.

There was no debate Toby didn’t like Nova. There wasn’t a tiny piece of him that felt any different. But he knew that The Operator would use her as a pawn in his game of chess. He slid off of your bed, his fingertips pushing some stray hairs out of your face. “I’m going to fix this. I-I’m going to fix you,” Toby whispered. You were fast asleep, your slumber only guaranteed for maybe another couple of hours. The insomnia you began to develop was becoming as bad as Tim’s. Toby slid out of your bedroom, tapping Brian awake from his slumber in your recliner. The blonde stood up, yawning briefly. “Where are you going kid?” He asked curiously. Toby grabbed his axe, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m g-going to fix this. Like I s-s-should’ve done a long time ago.”

Toby wasn’t nervous as he strolled up to Nova’s office. He knew it was vacant. He knew Nova was working late. Not only based on her beat up Toyota in the parking lot, but he also considered her consequential work ethic. For someone as paranoid as Nova, he would’ve thought she would’ve had better protective measures.

Nova sat in her office, worn down and exhausted. The desk lamp was the only thing keeping her awake, the excessive light blinding her sight from most of the room. In her hand sat a worn out pencil, the graphite scribbling the proxy symbol on a sheet of paper. “I used to draw those too you know,” Toby chuckled. He sat crouched on the windowsill, inviting himself inside once Nova’s gaze landed on him. She reached for her gun, shocked to find her secret spot empty. Toby held it up lazily with one finger, his eyes narrowing. “L-looking for t-t-this?” He questioned. He tilted his head to the side, before tossing Nova her python. Nova had no idea you stole it, her mind raveling as she tried to pinpoint when Toby broke in and took it. Or when he even had the opportunity to.

Immediately Nova held Toby at gunpoint, shutting off the safety without a second thought. “I was right all along. I knew it. You can’t have her Tobias,” Nova growled. Toby raised his eyebrows. “Yeah that’s right. I investigated all of you fucking freaks. Timothy Wright. Brian Thomas. Tobias Rogers. I know it all,” Nova spat harshly. Toby’s neck twitched, a giggle escaping his lips. “You know about The Operator then I ass-u-u-me,” Toby suggested. Novas eyebrows furrowed, as if she could’ve believe what the brunette was saying. Casually he strolled up to her desk, rummaging through the papers. Drawings of The Operator, ominous phrases, and eerie proxy symbols littered the pages.

“Oh b-boy. He sure does like you,” Toby mused, chuckling to himself. Nova readjusted her grip on her gun, brushing her hair out of her face. “How do I get rid of him? Explain yourself. Explain it!” Nova demanded. Toby let out a low whistle. He rocked back and forth on his heels, shaking his head. “There isn’t any e-escaping him. From the l-looks of it he’s embedded himself right in that brain of yours,” He concluded. He leaned forward, poking Nova’s forehead. Nova swatted his hand away, pointing her gun directly at his head. She rounded her desk, placing the metal right under his chin. “It’s not like it m-matters anyways. You’re not really the one he wants,” Toby informed her.

“What’s that supposed to mean you ticking time bomb?”

Toby seemed unnerved to have a gun pointed under his chin. He knew Nova’s trigger finger was growing heavy, yet he seemed unbothered. “Who else knows about us besides you? That’s t-tied into our l-little rebellion,” Toby questioned. Nova’s facade fell, her face growing pale. She lowered her gun. “Fucking hell. Why does he want y/n? Why does he want me?” Nova asked. Toby tilted his head to the side, shoving down his face mask. He delivered Nova a wicked grin, soaking in the fear that radiated off of her once she saw the side of his face. It was chewed straight through, the flesh absent and poorly healed. “I-I’m n-n-not sure. Why don’t y-you eat one of the blueberry muffins I m-made you and maybe it’ll jog my memory,” Toby suggested.

Nova cringed as she looked over at the trash can, piled with discarded papers. But on the very bottom, sat the untouched blueberry muffins. They had been sitting there for over a week, her stomach churning. She collected herself, glaring at Toby. “I don’t think so Tobias. You don’t get to win,” She hissed. She pushed the head of the gun harder against his chin, surprised the brunette had no reaction at all. “Y-you kill m-m-me you don’t get answers,” Toby chuckled. Nova frowned, knowing he was right. Even if she killed him off, thing one and two were one for vengeance. She cringed as she looked at her trashcan.

“I take a bite of the muffin, you give me answers right? Who’s to say you’re not lying?” Nova questioned. Toby shrugged, giving her a sly shit eating grin. “I guess that’s a chance you’ll have to take,” He snickered. Nova huffed as she trudged over to the trashcan. She threw her old coffee cups and crumpled papers aside. She cringed as she dug out the plate of blueberry muffins, the tinfoil now pulled back. Toby watched calmly as she took the paper wrapper off of one, her fingers shaking. “Y-you c-c-can’t possibly be t-that grossed out. You investigate corpses for a living,” Toby said sassily, rolling his eyes. Nova glared at him, shooting daggers in his direction. “I investigate homicides of innocent people you ticking fuckwad,” Nova snarled. She sighed, forcing herself to think of you as she took a bite of the expired food.

Toby took great joy in watching Nova’s face curl into disgust. She could taste droplets of the coffee she had drank days ago. Toby’s grin grew wider as she slowly chewed on the muffin. “Go o-on. Swallow it,” He purred. Nova contemplated shooting him right then and there, deciding against it. Oh, if only you knew how much she adored you. She forced herself to swallow, gagging on the taste as it traveled down her throat. “That wasn’t s-so hard. W-was it?” Toby taunted. Nova wiped her mouth with her sleeve, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “Get on with it Tobias. I played your game. What does he want?” She questioned.

“What he’s doing to you is very different from what h-he’s doing to y/n. H-he just wants y-y-you to go crazy and kill yourself. But I see you’re a o-one tough cookie,” Toby praised mockingly. He went to grab her cheek tauntingly, Novas hand quick to swat his away. “B-but with her, he sees s-s-so much potential. The w-way she’s willing to die f-for us,” Toby explained. Nova’s eyes widened, her rage clouding her judgment as she repositioned her pistol. She pointed it at Toby’s face, pulling the trigger. Nova was stunned as nothing happened, her Python useless. Toby broke out into a mechanical laughter, one that only enraged Nova more.

“What the fuck?” She muttered. Toby grinned as he took the bullets out of his pocket, tossing them into the air. They scattered across the wooden floor, Nova quick to drop to her knees to collect them. With shaky hands she tried to reload her gun, Toby quick to squat down to her level. He gave her an egotistical grin, watching as she struggled to put the bullets in her python. “There’s a-a chance we can stop The O-Operator’s influence. B-but we can’t do it alone,” He said. This made Nova stop in her tracks, her chocolate eyes wondering over to him. Looking at him made goosebumps roam across her skin, his lack of a right cheek unsettling the closer he got to her.

“S-she’s going to need-d-d you. Even if we dont understand it,” Toby concluded. He rose to his feet, satisfied that he got his point across. Nova swallowed as she rose beside him, her gun now loaded with three shiny bullets. “What do I need to do?” She asked. Toby gave her a wicked grin, waltzing towards the open window. He grinned over his shoulder, sliding his mask back on, “Come with me.”

\/

“I don’t wanna do this guys. This is so stupid,” You protested. Hoodie and Masky had succeeded in getting you dressed up and ready for a nice dinner. What they had failed to account for was your protest. Despite their protection and consistent surveillance, it didn’t subside your paranoia. However, they couldn’t recall the last time you had a decent meal. Additionally, they couldn’t remember the last time they had seen you smile. They didn’t like Nova either, but between her and seeing you go insane, she was lesser of the two evils.

“You’re just going to have to trust us. This’ll be good for you,” Hoodie encouraged. You sighed, looking through the window of the fancy restaurant. Soft golden chandeliers lit each table, a thick white table cloth covering each one. The silverware looked like they were actual gold, each individual inside looking like a million bucks. You nervously tucked your hair behind your ears. “Okay fine. Just this one dinner. Then let me lay in bed for the next ten years,” You huffed. You stormed into the restaurant, Masky and Hoodie close behind you. “They should be here somewhere,” Masky muttered. You were under the impression you were only meeting Toby. “Who else is there? Guys I don’t want to meet anyone new,” You protested. That’s when you saw them.

Toby waved, a bright smile spreading across his lips. He wore a neat jet black tuxedo, his curls bouncing with life. Beside him sat Nova, a dark sapphire dress decorating her caramel skin. Her lips were dark red, smiling just as bright as Toby’s. You practically ran to her, attempting to not trip over your own heels or run into any of the waiters. You threw your arms around her in an embrace, soaking in her coconut scent. “What are you doing here?” You asked. You hadn’t seen Nova since you had ditched her at the hospital, stealing her python before dashing into the night. “Tobias invited me. I think it’s time the five of us have a serious discussion about The Operator,” She said firmly. You glanced at the boys for affirmation, Masky giving you a nod. “You know?” You whispered. Nova nodded, giving you a sad smile.

“You’re not the only person that slimy fucker has been terrorizing,” Nova chuckled dryly. The five of you sat down, your mood feeling evaluated for the first time in forever. You didn’t ask too many questions about Toby or Nova. Or why they both felt possessive enough to sit on either side of you. Toby’s hand sat on your upper thigh, Novas hand holding your own. You felt like you were missing something. Like something happened and they wouldn’t tell you. Masky and Hoodie were strangely transparent about their existence. “So you both only exist due to a series of unfortunate supernatural events that traumatized Timothy and Brian so much they developed you two?” Nova questioned. She poked her fork back into her pasta, swirling it as you nervously chewed on your steak.

“Thats about right,” Masky agreed. He kept his gaze on his own steak, cutting the meat with a sharp knife. “And what about you?” Nova questioned. She pointed her fork at Toby, who was thoroughly enjoying his chicken tenders and fries. “What about me?” Toby hissed. Nova squeezed your hand under the table. “You don’t have an alter so you’re insane right? You had a pretty extensive length of mental disorders according to your record,” Nova shrugged. You shot Nova a dirty look. “Hey lay off of the kid,” Masky intervened flatly. Hoodie quietly nibbled at his salad, watching the whole scene unfold.

You caught his gaze, the blonde subtly cocking his head towards the window. You almost missed what he was referring to, a streak of white dashing out of sight once you looked. “I don’t think I will. They have decent excuses but you don’t Tobias. So, explain it to me,” Nova spat. You removed your hand from hers, feeling Toby’s fingers dig into your thigh. “Nova that’s enough, it’s not your business,” You hissed. She refused to glance at you, her cold gaze still centered on Toby. “Considering he’s been making himself quite comfortable between your legs, I think it is,” She argued. You audibly scoffed, your patience running thin.

“It is not your fucking place to mother me-”

Your spitfire was cut short by Toby interrupting, “The only thing you need to k-k-know is that i’d never h-hurt her. But don’t think-k-k you’re in the same position.”

The table fell silent, your heart pounding as you stared down at your dinner plate. A wave of nausea washed over you, your face going pale. “Hey hey are you good?” Hoodie asked, changing the tables topic. You could feel your stomach churning. Masky rose to his feet. “He’s nearby. We need to go,” He said firmly. He threw a wad of cash on the table, uninterested in the social construct of waiting. You were more important. The five of you hurried out of the restaurant, Nova slinging your arm over her shoulders. Toby followed suit, the two of them helping you follow Masky and Hoodie.

“Staying in town is a negative. We need to leave as soon as possible,” Hoodie told Masky. Masky dug in his slacks pockets, searching for his beloved box of cigarettes. “We need to ditch the car. Too traceable. There’s a train down east street. We can go down south from there,” Masky suggested. You could faintly hear static, your head beginning to spin. “I don’t think she’s going to make it to the train. We need to stop by her apartment. Or mine,” Nova interrupted. Masky and Hoodie shared a look, both of them reaching in their suit jackets and sliding on their mask. It was unusual that someone were to interrupt their planning. Whether they liked it or not, the dynamic of the group was changing with Nova’s addition. You felt faint, gripping onto Toby for support.

“I’m gonna be sick,” You groaned. You tried to hold back your nausea, swallowing when you felt yourself gagging. You could hear Masky and Nova bickering, their voices growing more dull. “Her apartment is a death sentence!” Masky growled. Nova let your arm down, getting in his face. “So is having her get on a goddamn train when she’s five seconds away from passing out!” She snarled. It was then you noticed it, the flash of white from earlier. You tilted your head to the side. Was this an illusion? Was the person you were seeing real? The white was so blinding to you. Why wasn’t anyone else noticing?

You glanced up at Toby, whose attention was focused on Masky and Nova arguing. You tried to understand what you were seeing, your eyes finally able to make out a mask. It was a human shaped figure, running towards the five of you. You tried to make sense of who the target was, realizing that the persons gaze seemed to be centered on Nova. Its head hadn’t cocked in your direction once, despite you looking right at the person. In the dim streetlight you were able to see a flash from a blade, your mouth falling open to say something. Anything. Your body sprung into action before you could warn anyone, your veins pumping with adrenaline.

You shoved Toby away, pushing Nova out of the way as the attacker trudged forward. It all happened so fast, you hardly had time to process the flash of hot white pain that electrified your body. You fell forward, your knees hitting the pavement. The sharp pain lodged into your stomach, your eyes widened so large you feared they were going to pop out of your head. Time seemed to slow, your hand shaking violently as you touched your wound. A kitchen knife was lodged into your stomach, the blood soaking your dress. Your vision became spotty, your gaze finally looking upwards. Toby and Masky were on the attacker in the blink of an eye.

“It had to be done! She’s the target and you know it!” The attacker hissed. Hoodie grabbed her by her hands, shoving them roughly behind her back. Masky delivered a sharp uppercut to her jaw, knocking her mask off of her face. Toby knew Kate to be obedient to The Operator, but he never would’ve imagined she would’ve done something like this to them. You fell forward, choking on your own spit as Nova tried to hold you upright. “Dont touch it. You can’t pull it out,” Nova rambled. She grabbed your shoulders, laying you on your back. She held you against her chest, tears welting up in her eyes. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” She whispered. She brought her hand to your hair, stroking it as you watched the seen before you unfold.

“I’ll fucking kill you Kate! I’ll fucking kill you!” Masky roared. Black spots began to appear in your vision, each movement you tried to make only sending a wave of pain up your spine.

Masky delivered sharp and powerful punches to Kate’s face, a sharp snap echoing throughout his ears. Her jaw hung loosely, blood traveling down her nose. “This is the way it has to be! You know better than this Masky!” Kate argued weakly. She was no longer thrashing under Hoodie’s grasp, instead struggling to stand on her own. Masky grabbed her face, a painful whimper escaping her lips as he glared down at her. “You are so lucky my girl is watching, otherwise i’d gut you like a fish,” He snarled. He lifted his mask, spitting in her face. He struggled to keep his composure, fighting the urge to beat her to death.

“W-wait so you won’t kill me?” Kate questioned. Masky turned around, his devious gaze meeting Toby’s. The younger brunette had taken out a smaller axe he carried on his person, twirling it in his hand. Masky sighed, looking over at you for confirmation. He never wanted this for you. But as the blood pooled around your body, he shrugged off any feelings of remorse or reconsideration. “I won’t, but he will,” Masky replied plainly. He walked past Toby, the boy quick to raise his axe. Masky relished in the sound of the sharp blade connecting with Kate’s skull, another loud crack sending sadistic pleasure down his spine.

—> next chapter

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 4 : DRAGONSLAYER

The Caldera Calvaria, of bloodied metal and stolen crown 👑🔥 “Mockery. Domination. Control. The Skullblades were more than just weapons. They were symbols. They showed that anything, even gods, could be killed. These weapons are relics, older than our history, from when dragons still ruled The Continent. The wars between the Auramics and the tyrannical lords of magic spanned eons - this was the time of ancient legend, before the golden tendrils ensnared the land, before the great palace in the north was built, and blood spilt into molten silver. They fought for that wild, brilliant power the dragons held close to their breast, that shifting entity that they eventually forged their empire with over their rivals scaly corpses.  When a dragon was finally killed, when man conquered nature itself, driving its shimmering blade into the beasts beating heart, their body was repurposed, and changed. A sharp, shallow knife to peel away the skin, precise cuts into tender flesh. Meat and scales pushed aside until thick fingers gripped the beasts skull, their thumb deep within its eye socket. They would change it then. Shift it to their whim - bone to gold, dirty teeth left gleaming into the light of the forge. And of course, that one singular eye. Like an artists signature, the Auramic eye was moulded into the centre of the skull. The old face forgotten, warped like warm clay to leave room for this twisted perfection.  Encrusted with gems from their hoard and infused with its stolen breath, the sword became a tomb, a regal headstone, and would likely find itself again surrounded by familiar blood, deep within the chest of its old kin.  Now, no one knows where they are. Some say the Skullblades are sealed within a vault in the depths of Palace Regalia. Others think they are hidden throughout The Continent, waiting to give unwitting travellers power more than they can manage, and angry, bitter dreams. We can only hope these ancient giants are well at rest, and that nothing, not vengeance or rage, will wake them from their slumber.”

A Skullblade - a relic of the Auramic history. I hope the people who have been following the lore of the Curated Curios universe for the past few years (if u guys are out there!) like this one. A very important and powerful weapon. There are more skulls out there - perhaps we will see this blade’s siblings one day.

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[tremendum]

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; ii

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader previous next series masterlist

word count: 7.1k

summary:  Paul knows that whatever he is feeling, you're likely feeling a hundred times more. So, for both your sakes, he will learn to live with you, and it will start tonight. It will start with the box to his right. 

warnings: allusions to smut, knife kink if you squint very hard, still the same familial trauma, descriptions of blood/violence, Paul and reader are beefing, fear, Paul has one (1) almost-panic attack, still switching POVs, no betas because i am lazyyyyy

notes: thank u all AGAIN for the support and feedback, its what keeps me motivated :) i am planning on posting the next update later today over on AO3, so i figured i'd post another chapter on here too! lmk what y'all think, tysm for the support! love to u all xx

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

In the revered customs of House Bourbon, the path to marriage is paved with cherished rituals and symbolic gestures, each sacred to the planet Sabberon's culture. Though the house may have dwindled in stature over the past three centuries, its customs and rituals remain a testament to the enduring legacy of a once-great lineage.

Unlike the grandiose affairs of some of the larger noble houses, betrothal within House Bourbon is a deeply intimate and sacred process, guided by the rhythms of nature. Rooted in their own ancient spiritual religion, which has endured through centuries of change and upheaval, marriage is viewed as not merely a union between two individuals, but a harmonious life in the embrace of the natural world.

This section reviews the process of Courtship and Betrothal for the House of Bourbon, including: 

Betrothal Gifts 

Heirloom Exchange

Harvest Festival Offering

Ceremony: Handfasting Ritual and Vows

Marriage Consummation.

- "Chapter 68: Customs of Marriage," The Noble Lineage: Exploring the Customs and Cultures of the Houses Major of Landsraad. Atreides Library. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The video drones on as Paul stares absently, his eyes heavy. There's a skip suddenly, jolting his head on his jaw as he blinks down at the textbook. The words are blurry until he shakes his head, resuming reading along as the documentary plays; a faint twitch in his left eye has not left since he started reading the chapter. 

"marriage consummations are a deeply personal and intimate affair..." the voice, factual, settles unease within Paul's stomach. Averting his eyes from the screen, he scans the page in front of him, trying to fight the resentment that bubbles in his chest. 

Among the more unique of traditions of House Bourbon, the consummation of marriage takes place outdoors, through a path walked by many ancestors. Upon a pristine white sheet, under the House's Sacred Pine Tree, this ritual symbolizes not only producing legally recognized descendants, but also the sacred union of the betrothed with nature and their ancestral lineage. 

Paul's eyes read the passage unblinkingly as his cheeks burn; his throat dries quickly.

A clear of his throat, he looks to Thufir Hawat, who watches the video documentary with an irritatingly calm expression. What kind of archaic ritual culture did this house have? He can hardly imagine you practicing these traditions on Giedi Prime; This thought makes his mouth sour and a wave of realization washes over Paul, leaving him with a sense of profound unease.

As his eyes flick back to the textbook in front of him, the words blurring and dancing before his vision, he bristles. They mock him with their implications; slowly he feels the weight of expectation bearing down on him, pressure threatening to suffocate him. 

He was trained from a young age for this, but it is all happening much too quick. The blood slams through Paul's veins suddenly in pounding bursts; the noises are too loud, the walls too close. Anger washes over him, his jaw clenching tight.

"Perhaps I should be studying Harkonnen tactics instead of this." he mutters, crossing his arms defiantly. "She's likely much more accustomed to that, anyways." It's childish, sure - he can barely breathe, however, and his tunic is stuck to his chest. His breathing is hard. 

"Paul, you mustn't-"

His rage takes hold, though. "-No! Nobody will listen. She was one of them for almost half a decade. She was accused of espionage, her family was proved of it - who's to say this isn't one big Harkonnen plot?" 

The man lets him get out his anger - Mentat training can take a lot out of one, anyways; Paul can't bring himself to school his emotions today. Why is his father not more concerned with the girl's presence?

"Thufir." Paul snaps suddenly, standing abruptly, his heart thundering in his chest. 

The Mentat looks to him - Paul sighs. "I will read about this later, I swear to it. But I'd prefer to train right now, if it's all the same to you." 

There is a clear hesitation, but Paul's cold stare earns him a conceding sigh. 

"Very well. Your father suggests you gift her soon, but..." He finishes, clearly noticing the overwhelmed look on Paul's face. "Sit down, my Lord. Let us begin today with cause and effect-" 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The sun hides behind sullen clouds when it hits midday, casting long shadows of light among the windows.

When you woke early in the morning, your handmaidens told you that the Duke wished to meet with you later in the afternoon, and that you're invited to join the family for supper this evening. Besides this, your day is free. 

So you lie in bed most of the morning, staring warily at the dark corner of your bedroom, half-expecting the ghost to emerge from the shadow again; clenching your jaw, expecting him to come out, to crawl over your frame, to trap your jaw in his sinister grip.

He doesn't, though, and eventually you call in the maids for a spot of tea.

You feel like anything is better than meeting with the Duke - In your reluctance you'd been struck with a feeling of restlessness, anxiety curling warm as a small cat in your stomach.

Sitting up straight from where the maids had been styling your hair, you'd cleared your throat; "I'd like to go explore." you'd stated, fingers aching for the comfort of metal.

They'd shared looks of surprise - you pretended not to notice. You haven't left your room much in the days since arriving on Caladan, besides attending meals and the one time Paul had escorted you around the premises - truthfully, you still feel like you're in a dream. 

You'd sat patiently as they insisted you bathe, eating a full meal before the sun had hit the middle of the sky. The maids finally dress you in casual clothes and quietly, with the need to do something with your hands, you decide to find the armory. 

Pulling yourself together, you leave your chambers quietly, hoping to avoid contact with anyone who may be around at this hour. You can't help the smile on your lips when you take a deep breath - It's more fresh in this castle.

Perhaps your lungs are so used to heavily recycled air within your confines back on Giedi Prime, or you're trying to find something to prove that what you've endured hasn't been for nothing; That this life will be, in some way, better than that one ever could have been. 

You slink through the halls, on alert each time you pass a guard or worker, hoping you run in to no familiar faces. You've chosen to deny an escort through the castle; you prefer to be alone to your thoughts, anyways. 

A shiver runs down your back as you take in the patterned wooden beams that place intricate shadows over your frame; high, vaulted ceilings, old stone that feels wet to the touch. This place is truly beautiful in an ancient, grand way. 

In another world, you would have felt such joy to call this your home. 

Today's clothing is more forgiving; your trousers are loose but more reinforced at the hips and waist, allowing you to move much quicker and quietly through the halls. The only noise you emit is from your cloaked veil. Momentarily, you debate just ripping the veil off, burning it in one of the several hearths in the vicinity.

A small rage burns within you, simmering and igniting more each day you go on like this - resentment for the customs that you barely know, for your house that no longer exists. You wish to see the planet without green-tinted vision. 

But the image of your sister's grave all those years ago; the sight of your family falling in the sand pit of the Harkonnen arena... you swallow thickly.

The walls seem much more empty as you go further into the castle's bowels, dragging your palm along the cool stone. As you round a corner, you're stopped in your tracks upon an ornate doorway, its intricate carvings catching your eye.

There is an engraving of a man and a bull deep in the wood of the door and your fingers trace over the lines of the man's shoulders before you gently push against it.

It gives easily.

Inside is a dimly lit study; The room is filled with shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and artifacts, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. The breath you take is blown back out with particles of dust in the sunlight - several pieces of select furniture are covered with sheets, as if the room is no longer commissioned. 

You bite the sense that you're somewhere you're not supposed to be. You know there is no true danger - if you were to wander somewhere you didn't belong on Giedi Prime, you'd have been punished. You doubt, however, that the guards here would dare touch you unless you gave them a reason to. 

You walk along the treasure trove of secrets, hidden away from prying eyes; a large hawk spreading its wings carved in the window in front of you. 

It's large, proud; green and black with gold embellishments. The Atreides colors. 

There's a book that your forefinger traces - a deep blue color, the spine is old and well-read. A few of the pages are even dog-eared, the dust deliberately swept off its pages as if it was read recently.  Caladan: A Comprehensive Ecological Study of Biodiversity.

You nearly pull it out to study its contents, momentarily forgetting the task of finding the armory in your piqued interest; Yet you can explore further, you hear footsteps approaching from behind. 

Hair stands up on your neck. 

They're light, sneaking- intentionally quiet. You whirl around quick, snarling as your hand instinctively goes to your hip. You come up empty, a flash of disappointment washing over you as a reminder of your absent beloved nameday knife. 

You turn just in time to see Paul Atreides standing in the doorway, his expression shockingly guarded as he takes in the sight of you standing amidst the shelves. You flounder, having expected it to be one of your handmaidens coming to redirect you, or perhaps a member of the Duke's guard. 

Paul stares at you, too - clearly, he was not expecting to see you either. His eyes turn suspicious, flickering to the desk beside you, towered with old texts on the Atreides family and war strategy.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice cold and accusatory. His cheeks are red, eyes narrow - he’s harsh in the dim lighting, when you'd thought he'd look soft. You don't need to see the crazed look in his eyes to see he's flustered about something. Irritated.

"This is my father's old study. It's not meant for prying eyes," Paul's voice slices through the air, sharp and accusatory.

Your heart lurches at the implication, a rush of heat prickling your skin as you stiffen. "I was looking for a place to train," you shoot back, your tone laced with defiance. You refuse to cower under his suspicion, no matter how thinly veiled. "I didn’t intend to intrude on your father's privacy. You may give him my apologies when you see fit."

The air seems to crackle in the distance between you, thick and palpable as Paul's piercing gaze meets yours, distrust laced through his gaze even as he maintains his chivalrous facade. The way his eyes narrow sends a surge of indignation coursing through you, your pride flaring in response.

"Forgive me if I’ve offended you," Paul's words are clipped, his tone tinged with an edge that sets your jaw tight. "Considering certain connections you may have, it's important to be cautious in matters of trust. But if you're lost, then allow me to escort you."

You bristle at the narrowly disguised accusation, your temper heating your cheeks. "Forgive me for assuming you’d know better than to judge me based on the actions of others," you retort, your voice sharp with wound. "Please don't exert yourself, my Lord, I'm sure I can find the armory without a chaperone."

With a sharp pivot, you brush past him in the doorway, your steps quick and purposeful. Each footfall echoes in the corridor, a staccato rhythm that you cannot bring yourself to care about hiding. Anger pulses through your veins, simmering your resentment. You refuse to be belittled or underestimated, not by him or anyone else.

Paul told you just yesterday that you will one day be Lady Atreides; if he is so afraid of your so-believed connections with House Harkonnen, why has he not insisted you be cast away?

You've observed Paul and his father together, and it's clear he is valued not just because he is the son of the Duke but because he is smart, cunning. Your face darkens at a thought as you tear past corners, finally rounding into a familiar area. 

Your own lineage is gone. A house as old as the planet it ruled, burnt to the ground - the other Houses Major complacent and willing to see it happen - and they plan to use you for themselves. 

You barely see anything but red.

If they think you can be manipulated to their advantage, they are sorely mistaken. you may be betrothed to Paul Atreides, but you will never be a part of their house; your blood is the ancient blood of the Pine, of the Sword.

You'll have to be a wife to the future Duke - sire an heir, live in the castle, command the planet. But you will not go down easy. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The armory is not as empty as you'd wished. 

In fact, it is one person too many; you're mistaken sorely when you storm in, chest heaving and cheeks hot with anger, to find one person standing in the middle of the floor. You are vibrating with hurt, anger boiling over - the only thing that will placate you might be swinging a knife. 

"Duncan." You greet him icily, your voice devoid of warmth. He faces you, blinking back his surprise. He uses your first name like a secret as he greets you; a flip of your stomach. You'd almost forgotten that name.

"Is everything alright?" He asks. A foolish question, really. You want to scream - Why did you wait so long to get me? Where were you? Where were my parents?

But you already know the answer. They were doing nothing. You grit your teeth, instead striding purposefully towards him.

"You're the Swordmaster of the Duke." You remark coolly, masking your anger - You know this, of course; He's been Duke Leto's Swordmaster since before you were bore into the world. 

"That's right." He affirms, wary of your movements as you stride towards the weapons rack.

"I find myself missing my knife - If I remember correctly, you took it from me on Giedi Prime." You walk slowly towards the center of the sparring mat where he stands, in front of the rack of shortswords. "I would like it back." 

To your surprise, Duncan nods. "Of course." he replies, "Would you like to spar for it?"

He reads you like a book.

"No honor without a fight.” you acquiesce; Fighting a man is much better than fighting a dummy, anyways - more to hit, more pain to inflict. Without waiting for a response, you snatch a blade from the rack; He tosses you a shield that you activate swiftly, assuming an offensive stance as he settles his own. 

For a moment, neither of you does anything; your blood pulses through you, eager to take out your anger, eager to show him who you've become. 

To show that you're the beast everyone expects you to be. 

You lunge at him and quickly are reminded of the skill of the man in front of you. You haven't sparred with anyone in over a week; In the commotion of your family's abdication, the arenas had been filled to the brim with your house's soldiers the whole week leading up to your exit from Giedi Prime. Even Feyd had been too occupied to fight you; Though, perhaps feeling sentimental, he’d let you pull your blade on him that last evening when you’d been on him, breath heavy against each other.

It takes only minutes before your muscles are aching, screaming; The frustration of the morning and the despair within your stomach spurs you forward, keeping your feet under your body.

Soon, your panting and the clang of steel on steel fills the room, punctuated only by both you and Duncan's measured breathing.

It’s been a long time since you trained with Duncan Idaho. You used to move together like water, even when you were just fifteen; he'd taught you how to fight like a Ginaz - your bloodline - and though his visits were sparse, he'd see you for your planet’s harvest festivals, always with a blade in your grip and your brother's hand in the other.

You were graceful when you were young and still learning. But now you're quick, snarling like a rabid dog, lashing out with teeth and nail.

It feels nothing like it used to be. 

"Have something to say, Idaho?" you ask, letting out a quick gasp as he gets near to taking you down, ducking at the last second as he charges your right side. He’d been sending you looks of interest at your newfound techniques for several minutes. 

He lets out a breath as you slide past him, slamming your elbow hard into his side; A dirty move, but all is fair in war, right? 

"You fight different, Little Bourbon," He's at least breaking a sweat; you're drenched, muscles fatigued as you fight his blade, straining with the adrenaline of a fight. He said the same thing days ago.

You're out of breath; "You already told me that." Your voice is faint as you wipe sweat from your brow, parring an attack to your left side. "It's the veil." You grit your teeth.

To be fair, it could be the veil - it's restrictive, catching on corners, pinning beneath your arm or tangling as you fight hand-to-hand. You can't see well wearing it.

His brow lifts, "I think it's probably the four years with those beasts."

Your blood runs cold; expression souring, your hackles rise. 

"What do you know of those beasts?" You snap, heart pounding as you think of the man who'd once been your intended - who'd called you his pet but paraded you like a wife. Spoiled you, ruined you. Tortured you, nurtured you - What was that old saying, about biting the hand that fed you? 

But suddenly Feyd-Rautha is in front of you, wielding both curved blades with that sinister black smile. You stumble back for a second, staring at his intimidating, lithe frame as he laughs a mirthless, dangerous chuckle down at you. 

Don’t worry, my pet. I will find you again.

Heart in pain, you lash out, grunting as you swipe at his face; It's Duncan, though, and you can't hide the gasp as you blink away the vision. Your heart thuds heavy between your ribs. 

He jolts back, tutting. "I didn't mean to imply that it is a weakness, my lady." He blocks a blow and you struggle for a moment against his sheer strength; with a twinge of anger, you can tell he's going easy on you.

He continues on. "-Far from it. you seem to forget that I've fought them, but that is besides the point-" He's momentarily distracted when he disarms you, and you use the opportunity to flip sideways, jumping gracefully over the water station to retrieve your blade. His face betrays a look of appreciation at your acrobatics, smirking as the pitcher of water shakes slightly. 

Concealing a grin, you creep back around, launching into an attack that he parries quickly, dropping you on to your side. You grunt, kicking with your legs to twist, trying to force his body off of yours - a momentary weakness, and you're done. 

He stares down at you, raising his brows. "I'm just saying, maybe there's aspects of your training that could benefit from a more balanced approach." He finishes his sentence just as he bests you, your blade flipping against your own ribs as he forces your arm tight against yourself. you hiss and twist; to no avail.

He's won. 

Still fighting the adrenaline from your vision of Feyd, you snarl. "What are you implying? I'm too rabid an animal for you people to tame? Is House Atreides scared of Little Bourbon?" You snap, eyes alight with heat. "Or, are they just afraid I've become Little Harkonnen?" you snap. 

He does not take your bait. Instead, he rolls off of you, standing up and offering you a hand. With a sharp glance, you take it, letting him pull your full weight off the ground as if you're nearly weightless. 

"What I am saying is that I am here every day. Come train whenever you please." 

You sigh, side cramping as you move from his grip to pour yourself a glass of water. You pour a shaky one for Duncan, too, trying to fight the creeping sensation that he's talking to a stranger. He grasps the water gently, watching you from the corner of his eye. 

The hesitation makes your jaw clench in anticipation; You busy yourself by examining the various blades that lie before you, knowing what's to come. 

Finally, he says your name softly. "We haven't gotten to discuss any of this..." he is clearly trying to put together words, but you cannot bear to hear them - you drag your finger along a curved blade, eyes squinting shut.

"I'm sorry. I…" he starts gently, trailing off as if he can't bear to say it out loud, reaching out to touch your arm but thinking twice. His fingers hesitate just before your bicep. 

Just as much; You fight not to recoil from his touch, swallowing hard as you step away slightly, tossing the knife back on the rack. "I'm fine," you reply curtly, voice steelier than ever. "Nothing to do about it now."

Duncan sighs, but does not call your bluff. You almost appreciate him for it. 

"Now where did you put my knife?" 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

You're struck with an observation when you sit in the conference hall across from the Duke later that afternoon: They do not sit like a council, looking down at you - instead, the table is rounded with only one seat missing, next to Halleck. You suspect Paul's is the body absent from the chair; he’s training with Duncan, then. You must have just missed him on your way back. 

Cautiously, your fingers toy with your newly reclaimed blade, its shine restored with the etchings across the hilt. You're significantly tired after your sparring, but Duncan’s words have settled a thin blanket of unease over you that pulls taught when your eyes land on the Lady Jessica. Her eyes stare unblinking at you, and though there is a soft smile upon her lips, you have to fight to resist a snarl. 

The Duke is serious as he regards you, hands clasping as you make yourself comfortable; he holds up a hand to stop the guards who unsheathe their blades when you set your own blade down in front of you for all to see.

A threat, or perhaps a sign of respect. You're unsure. 

"Lady Bourbon, thank you for meeting with us." His voice is a deep caramel, not unlike his son's - years of diplomatic training. "We know how hard this can be. The weight of your sudden responsibility does not go unappreciated."

You nod curtly, gaze fixed on the table before you; You've never been known for your patience. "How may I be of service, my Lord?" 

At your deflection, he nods slightly, "I was told you spent the afternoon training with Duncan Idaho." He speaks plainly and you are, if nothing else, appreciative of that; His eyes glance over the short sword that lays in front of you, to the signature black leather that wraps around the hilt. Once, it had served as a claim - but now, you're unsure. 

"Yes, my Lord." You say, voice serious and strong. 

The Duke’s brows are low over his eyes; an expression you can imagine on his son's face quite easily. You're unsurprised Paul has become such a well-respected figure in the castle even with the workers and servants who tend to you every morning - even this morning Hestia told you of his rigorous training but also of his intelligence, diplomacy, and honor. While you had clenched your jaw at her words, you now suppose in a diplomatic sense, he will assume his father's role quite perfectly one day. 

"We'd like to reiterate that you are free to pursue your interests, to educate yourself, and to engage in hobbies that bring you joy. We hope for you to consider this your home, and know that we are here to support you in any way we can." Lady Jessica says, her voice quiet but intense; much like her son. 

This is… not what you’d anticipated. You sit, rigid as a board, eyes wide. You're unsurprised that your unease on this planet is clear - you barely sleep, you never eat around them, you barely speak, choosing to keep to yourself. 

"We would like to know of your interests so we may set you up with any materials you may need. I'd like to introduce to you Dr. Yueh, as well as Thufir Hawat, who have volunteered to help tutor you should you wish. Duncan Idaho also wishes to help you train if you see fit. I understand you knew him when you were young." The Duke offers, sitting straight in his seat.

Much to your chagrin, your eyes burn with unshed tears as you slowly process the words. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you're being offered a taste of freedom.

It sends you into fight or flight; your heartbeat pounds against your ribs, your hands clenching hard. You feel cornered, but take a breath. There is no hostility here.

I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

Clearing your throat, you lift your head slightly. "Your...generosity overwhelms me. I was educated for a while in politics and local economics, and I've always been fascinated by botany and ecology- I..." your mouth is incredibly dry, voice void of emotion. You bite your lip, one tear slowly tracking over your cheek; You really must be exhausted.

"Thank you." You don't know what else to say. 

There is a small gleam of recognition that passes Duke Leto's eyes at your words, his smile intrigued. "Those are noble pursuits. You have similar interests to my own son - I believe you two will have much to discuss."

Your mouth bitters at the suggestion and you try not to squirm in your seat; For a moment, you'd slipped away - into a world where you are their daughter, a world where you aren't tainted by the last several years, by the crimes of your House- where you haven’t been turned into a monster that hisses at a glimpse of the sun. 

But of course, as you'd expected, there is no good will for free: The next words set your back rigid. 

"Though we are hesitant to put you into another painful situation, it is hard to deny just how helpful you could be to us, my Lady." Gurney Halleck speaks from besides the Duke.

Your eyes snake to him, your back prickling. You resist the urge to run, or to throw your blade at his head.

"-and we hope, when you are ready, you might give us some insight into your previous arrangements." He says, surprisingly delicately.

You can't help but bristle at the sentiment; the offer of cooperation feels more like coercion. You don't by law owe the Atreides anything besides wedding their son, but the implications of the arrangement suggest a lifetime of servitude towards them - and you despise owing people anything.

Perhaps, if not just the Harkonnens, they prefer you for your relationship with your bastard mother's sister, the lady of House Ginaz? This thought has several times crossed your mind, but you're sure they'd be displeased to hear of how strained such relationship became when the Harkonnens started filtering your messages.

Barely any of her letters made it to you for the last several years in your time at Giedi Prime, and you're almost certain none of yours made it out at all. You haven't heard from her in some time. 

You wait a moment, collecting your thoughts and willing yourself to only reveal what you need them to know. Self-preservation builds itself around you like rock-solid armor. "During my time with the Harkonnens, I became privy to certain..." you purse your lips, looking for the right word, "lateral moves."

Gurney Halleck's eyes fly to you, as do Lady Jessica's.

"-However, my interactions were primarily with Feyd-Rautha; The Baron held little interest in me until my family was caught, and Glossu Rabban suspected me of being a spy long before he'd ever met me."  As you speak, Lady Jessica's keen eyes observe you closely, her lips pressed into a thin line. You pretend not to notice as her hand flicks down by her side, the Duke and War Master's eyes flickering down to observe her hidden words. 

You set your jaw, ignoring their silent communication, "I do not know much about their deals on Arrakis, but I have gathered enough about their industries on Giedi Prime." You say, eyeing them all. Recalling Paul’s earlier mistrust, you add, "I have no reason to lie." 

It's quiet at the table as the Duke sits in thought, Gurney turning to whisper lowly to the man. He nods, and after a moment, looks back at you. "I'd wonder if you might attend a meeting with my Strategy Council next week." The Duke proposes, shocking you. Stiffly, you nod. "There is a Space Trade Route Referendum coming soon, as I'm sure you know, and we would benefit from your insight." 

You truly have to fight the flush that grows on your cheeks, reminding yourself of where you are, who you are. These are still the people who think you are some rabid dog that they may muzzle. A pawn to play. 

"I'd be pleased, my Lord." It comes short of genuine in tone, your apprehension showing. 

He nods, glancing down before looking back up. "If I may..." He addresses you with your first name, a jolt to your system. "We value everyone in this castle. Plans have changed quickly, and it is more than understandable if you have felt unwelcome or alienated here on Caladan, though we do not wish it."

You let a short breath, biting back a bitter quip about their son and his willingness to chew you out for exploring the walls of what was supposed to be your castle.

But perhaps your anger and fear have been projected onto the Duke and Lady Jessica, which, in fairness, is not theirs to receive; No matter if their son is mistrusting, they have shown nothing but respect for you in this transition. You hesitate, biting your lip. 

"I apologize if I have come off as ungrateful." Your voice is much softer than anticipated, your throat floundering in embarrassment. You can only thank your lucky stars that the Atreides boy is not here to snicker at your misery - though as the sharp eyes of everyone at the table turn to you, the self-deprecating feeling turns towards disdain for him; anger, for daring to disrespect his future wife. 

"It was never my intention." You take a breath, choosing your words carefully. "I am not unused to being treated like a spy, even in the house I am supposed to become a part of."

Your voice is strong as your chin holds high, staring straight at the Duke although he cannot see your gaze. "Perhaps, if I were less interrogated by select members of the House Atreides, I might feel more at ease." You speak honestly; if nothing else comes of this, perhaps Paul will get his ear chewed out by his father or mother - and that, you feel, is justice.

You don't care that you are a stranger to everyone at this table and they have known him for his whole life; you will not be pushed around.

Folding your hands, you continue, "I'd like to pass along my personal apologies for entering your old study this morning when I was lost." you say, "Lord Paul informed me that it is off-limits to my kind." 

The looks on their faces show their varying degrees of surprise; the Duke, however, glances sidelong at the empty seat at the table before clenching his jaw, eyes something akin to irate. The two make eye contact before Halleck sighs gently, hand falling over his forehead.

You can tell the Duke is about to speak but you don't wish to listen to any excuse he could find for his brat of a son- unfortunately for you, it is not acceptable to interrupt a Duke. So you sit, foot bouncing on the floor, as he purses his lips. 

"This arrangement was certainly a shock to him as well as to you. But that does not permit disrespectful behavior." This, indeed, comes as surprise to you, having expected them to support the na-Duke's every whim.

"-As for my former study, it is now used as an archive room. I apologize if there was any confusion regarding its accessibility - I will speak with my son about the importance of clarity and respect in our household rules." His words held a note of sternness; a silent admonishment directed towards his absent heir. "You are allowed wherever you wish." 

Once again, you're flooded with emotion; Perhaps they do want you to come into your own here. Perhaps the Duke's son has his own opinions about you and your history, but that does not mean his parents feel the same. 

You feel a sudden spark of rebellion - could you find some kind of purpose with House Atreides, despite their ulterior motives? After all, your house was once a strong ally of theirs. The thought flickers tantalizingly before you, only to be swiftly extinguished by the reality of your situation.

No, you remind yourself bitterly. You are tainted with blood - not Atreides, not Bourbon - but Harkonnen. Paul will always see you as a beast, wife or not. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Supper is called later than Paul expects.

His stomach growls by the time you come into the hall; though he and his parents have been at the table for some time. 

There is a box in his hand, one that will sit next to him until the end of dinner. It glares at him tauntingly; he avoids its stare. 

You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. 

How foolish he’d been this morning - flustered, angry at the arrangement - what awful coincidence he'd run into you snooping around the old study. He knows better than to treat you that way, even if he does not trust you.

Paul ignores the twist in his stomach as his father glances at him; The air is tense with their previous conversation - his parents are upset with him. But Paul knows he must amend his actions; It does not matter his apprehension. You will be his wife, and he your husband. He rolls his neck, feeling it pop as he waits.

Paul knows that whatever he is feeling, you're likely feeling a hundred times more.

So, for both your sakes, he will learn to live with you, and it will start tonight. It will start with the box to his right. 

You enter through the doors, your pace slow as you look around. Despite himself, Paul's cheeks heat up; You're wearing a simple dark dress, your figure snug with flowing sleeves - but the veil you wear this evening is significantly less thick than any you’ve warn yet.

You're still concealed behind the fabric that falls over your head, but your eyes are large behind it, meeting his for what feels like the first time.

With a chill, he realizes he can see your stare, the fullness of your lips, the upturn of your cheeks, the way you take in a quick breath; He's struck with your beauty and forces himself to nod and greet you.

There's that look to you - contained, schooled to be polite - but he knows better. You nod back tersely as your eyes glow against the dark green mesh and beads that fall over the crown of your head, and he's suddenly struck with the strange desire to see more of you. 

Instead, he forces himself to look down at the table. 

Dinner is less uncomfortable than he'd feared; you seem much more relaxed than he's ever seen you, though your voice is still quite calculated - even his mother is relaxed, asking about the wintering sport you'd mentioned learning in your youth. 

His heart hammers in his chest when the dishes begin to be cleared, knowing it is his time to present the first of several of your House's courting steps. He'd poured over them before going to train this afternoon; Perhaps this won't be the most traditional example of your culture's marriage customs, but most of your people are gone.

There's no use in fighting it, and he can only try his best to make you feel more comfortable. 

His parents excuse themselves, but with a jump of panic, he calls for you to stay, just for a moment. Paul waits silently as his parents wish you a good evening, sending him a stern look that sets his teeth on edge. When they are gone, you remain seated as if frozen, your eyes wary. Perhaps you expect him to berate you again. 

Gifting heirlooms is a sacred tradition, passed down through generations, where the betrothed proudly wear the sigil of their new house as a symbol of unity and commitment.

Paul's heart races nervously as he stands, straightening his dark tunic before approaching you, the small velvet box clutched tightly in his hand. With each step closer, your eyes sharpen with suspicion. You shift your hand through the skirt of your dress, as if searching for something- a weapon, maybe - but you have no chance to wield it as he rounds on you. 

He offers you the box with a slight tremor in his hand, small enough that you likely don't notice; Flipping it open, he tries to swallow his reluctance. This is his duty. You stare down at it, your demeanor guarded and unreadable.

Plush lips partially hidden behind a sheet of green part -for a moment, Paul wonders why you seem completely shell-shocked; he brushes aside the thought, attributing it to the formality of the gesture after his childish behavior earlier in the day. 

"My Lady," he begins, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness, "I hope you will accept this pendant as a token of my-" He clears his throat awkwardly, "Of our betrothal." He's incredibly thankful to be so well-versed on diplomacy; "I apologize for how I acted this morning. It was childish." His voice comes out strong, if not slightly quiet. 

You stare at the necklace, eyes taking in the green and gold sigil of Atreides; a hawk, small but ornamental. It was his great-great-grandmother's from her wedding day, cherished for many years. After his lesson this morning, he’d searched for something that seemed fit to uphold your family's tradition - the color would suit you well, too. 

He waits for your response, hoping against hope that you'll see the gesture for what it truly is: An attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you; Suggested by his parents, yes, but chosen and executed by himself. 

Your eyes harden, as if a decision has been made in your sharp mind. He tries not to sway on his feet when you move your hands towards the box. 

"Thank you." Your voice is much too cold. Your eyes hold none of the shine he'd seen previously, and it is with a pain in his stomach that he recognizes your sharp glance sideways. Your eyes are lethal, he decides - just as lethal as the rest of you is. 

You would not be as civil if it were just you and him, he is sure of it; His parents may be gone, but there are servants who watch on out the corner of their eyes as they clear dishes. 

He can't help but feel slightly dishonest, perhaps he should have waited until the two of you were truly alone.  

Your own hands shake as you reach under your veil, clasping the necklace around your neck slowly. He watches with a dry mouth, knowing better than to think your shaking is anything but resentment on your part. 

"It is a gorgeous collar." You utter.

Turning to stare up into his eyes, Paul's heart thuds.

"I shall wear it like a dog." 

The choice of words unsettles him completely, but you are out of the door before his lips find anything to say. 

.

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.