#all the bad stuff that happened between us?

[mindless-existence1]

What would the mha boys do with an overly affectionate partner who loves to always have a hand on them

Includes: Bakugo, Izuku, Denki, and Tokoyami (also anyone else if you want just request)

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Bakugo

To be honest this man would try to be so nonchalant about it. But on the inside he's so flustered. As a kid he would avoid it and push affection away but then you come along and he just like....die on the inside from a mix of embarrassment and pure love.

At first he'd push you away to and he starts letting you do little stuff like just resting your hand on him or being really close when sitting next to each other.

But then one night yiu and him are hanging out and you fall asleep on him and he just has an 'Oh.' moment and he realizes that maybe being close isn't so bad.

I think his favorite form of contact is hand holding. Specifically hand holding under the table, it's like a secret just for the two fo you. Headcannon that he's insecure about how sweaty his palms get and when yiu eventually show him how you don't mind he'll never let go or your hand.

Izuku

Poor boy is f l u s t e r d. He can't take it! Growing up he had a lot of affection but never from a romantic partner. Then all the sudden you come around and it's just all the time.

His face goes really read and his ears get hot and he accidently shoves you away the first few times you initiate contact. The more he gets used to it the less flustered he gets untill its basically second nature.

Pda isn't really his thing but he let's you do your thing. Like bakugo he'd hold your hand under the table or he would let you rest on him when siting down. He'd also be chill with stuff like you holding his arm while walking.

His favorite thing tho is when you play with his hair. He has so much of it and it's so relaxing to feel you scratch at his scalp. He usually falls asleep with his head in your lap like that.

Denki

HE LOVES IT SO MUCH! He is genuinely a grin for physical contact. It's his favorite thing ever so you guys are cuddling constantly. He just adores it some much.

Pda is not a problem for this man at all. He will hold you hand, waist, thigh, anything. He has the mindset 'I love my partner and everyone is jealous of me so why not show off'.

Hes the same as you, always needs to be holding you at all times. He doesn't even do it on purpose it just kinda happens. All the sudden you are practically laying on him on the common room couch and no one has any clue how.

His favorite thing tho is full on cuddling. Loves to lay between your legs and wrap his arms around your waist. Same as izuku he likes falling asleep with you playing with his hair. He also likes being little spoon .

Tokoyami

Soooooooo nonchalant about it in a very chalant way if that makes sense. Like he pretends he's unbothered but he tenses up and his feathers puff up a bit.

Pda? No go for him. Most you'll get out of his is like minor hand holding and like knee touching while sitting down. When you're by yourselves tho? Cuddlebug.

He loves how affectionate you are it just makes him so nervous when it's in public. He really enjoys you running your fingers up and down his forearm or some other part of him. Just likes feeling you so close to him.

Dark Shadow teases him about it when you're not there but he couldn't care less. He likes when you lay with his at night cuz he's an insomniac and just exist next to each other.

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[quinloki]

Quin's Terrible Two's

Here we are at the back half of the Tumblrversary event \o/ Some polls are closed, Some Are Still Going (go vote!)

The votes have been counted, the results have been assessed! Now it's time for What Happens Because of All of That <3

So without further ado -- /hands the results of the poll off to Thatch, who already seems to have things well in hand./

Izou's Domination

CW: One dom/two subs, shibari, bondage, orgasm denial, tickling, power play, mentions of established polycule, mentions of deep throating, mdni

Izou crushes the results delicately between his fingers, turning the paper into a crumpled ball before looking down at you.

“Open.” He commands, and you open your mouth.

Your arms are tied behind your back, and a delicate network of ropes hug your skin in floral patterns. Izou has already spent hours with you, tying you into the decorative shibari. He caught wind of you and Thatch’s plans to “prank” him and ended up several steps ahead of the both of you.

Slick from between your thighs has already stained the ropes down your legs, and your ass was already red because of it. Izou had said that a little brat like you had no place enjoying being tied up, and since you obviously were enjoying it, he needed to correct that. But the spanking only made you mewl more whorishly, so then he purposefully edged you while finishing the rest of the tie.

Your face was puffy and swollen, stained from tears after begging to be allowed to cum, but Izou was not one who bent to others.

“Drop it and I’ll ask Marco to edge you for the next five days.” He explains, his fingers keeping your mouth open. “And if you close your lips, it’ll be worse, my darling little flower. Do you understand?”

You nod your head. Izou walks you over to the large, heavy, dining table in the mess hall that Thatch is currently tied down to. The large man is covered in splatters of dried wax, soft red welts on the insides of his thighs from Izou’s hand - earned because he came without permission while Izou had held your head down onto his pubes, forcing you to deep throat him.

The prank you had in mind wasn’t even that bad, and was truly harmless, but Izou said it didn’t matter. The fact was you’d both agreed to prank him at all, and as your dom he wasn’t going to stand for it. This was a lesson he wanted to be sure you learned exceptionally well.

All six hours before the results of the poll were even handed to him.

Izou helps you up onto the table, steadying you as you straddle Thatch. The big cook whimpers when your wet pussy settles against his cock.

“Once you get all of him inside you,” Izou says, still helping you as you coat Thatch’s cock in your slick. “Stay still.”

“’Ock warh-ing?” You question awkwardly, trying to neither crush the paper ball in your mouth, nor drop it.

“Sure, cock warming, we’ll go with that.” Izou agrees, and Thatch groans.

It barely takes a minute for Thatch to be fully erect beneath you, and just a moment after that for you to work yourself down onto his length. As Izou’s beautiful little flowers, you and Thatch were used to being tangled up in one another in all sorts of ways, but it didn’t make Thatch’s impressive girth any smaller. The sweet stretch almost makes you moan, but you beat the pleasurable sound down.

Izou moves around you easily once you’re in place. He ties your ankles to Thatch’s thighs so that there’s almost no way for you to get off the cook’s cock on your own. After that he puts clamps on your nipples, and Thatchs’, connecting the clips with thin ropes. The tension forces you to lean forward a little, pressing your throbbing and needy clit into Thatch’s rough patch.

The incessant twinge of pain from the clamps is making you even more aware of Thatch’s cock twitching inside your stuff cunt.

“Perfect.” He hums, the ropes and table creaking a little when Thatch shifts a bit to relieve some of the tension building in his muscles. Izou himself was careful not to push either of you too far, and he was skilled at getting you out of predicaments very quickly.

But there was also nothing on the ship that could easily hold Thatch, either, so he was effectively a second layer of safety in the group. Not that anyone wanted to break the bench style table, but if it was a matter of it or your safety, Thatch wouldn’t hesitate.

Izou moves until he’s knelt behind you, settled between Thatch’s spread legs.

“The rules are simple. Whoever cums first will spend the rest of the week being edged and denied.” He explains simply. “I’ll press the whole ship into service if I need to, so accept your fate.” He adds icily, and you and Thatch don’t doubt his words.

“The one who holds out will be treated sweetly for the rest of the week, no matter what they do to the loser, so keep that in mind too.” He hums, walking his fingers lightly up Thatch’s legs until he reaches the soles of your feet.

You tense at the light touch, trying not to jerk. If you buck too much you’ll tug at you and Thatch’s nipples. Thatch can’t hurt you accidentally, he’s too well secured to the table. You’re only well secured to Thatch.

The crumpled paper against your tongue reminds you not to close your mouth as Izou’s fingers dance against your feet. The soft tingle builds and turns more and more into a ticklish sensation - a sensation that makes your body tense, and causes your pussy to clench against Thatch’s cock.

Thatch groans, understanding sinking in as you start to twitch and shiver.

“Ari,” you squeak, trying to apologize to Thatch without being able to speak properly. “Ari!” You gasp the odd apology, as Izou really begins to tickle your feet, making you clench and jerk. You can’t even babble the broken ‘sorry’ from your lips as the laughter bubbles up in your chest.

If you laugh you might drop the paper, or close your mouth, so instead you end up whimpering and gasping. Squeaky pleas for mercy replace the broken sorries falling from your tongue. The first time Izou grabs your waist you jerk and pull on the clamps, making Thatch buck. His hips push him deeper inside of you, grinding against your clit.

You can’t scream, or laugh, you’ll drop the paper, but your body can’t contain the ticklish touch of Izou’s deft fingers, and so your body jerks, wiggles and and rides Thatch’s cock. Every pleasure bites into both of you, but you’re the only one getting tickled.

Thatch is ticklish, you know he is, you’ve seen Marco lock him down while Izou tickles him to tears, but if Izou tickles Thatch he could accidentally break the table. It starts to drive you so crazy you lean forward and start grinding into Thatch.

You aren’t trying to get him off, but if you cum it’ll end the tickling from Izou. Your face is a mess, desperate and dripping tears and drool, and the sounds coming from you are a mix of whimpers from the tickling, and moans from the building pleasure.

You’re a mess on Thatch’s cock, desperate and horny, and he can’t take it. He starts matching your erratic movements as best as he can, bucking his hips up into you as you come down on him, grinding into your clit and bracing against the table to ground himself a little.

“Maybe if you lose, sweet flower,” Izou purrs, not too worried about whether or not you can hear him, but knowing Thatch won’t miss his words. “I’ll put you in a nice rope dress to keep you honest. You’d enjoy it, showing it off to the others, wouldn’t you? Letting Thatch inspect the knots during lulls in the kitchen.”

Izou’s gaze catches Thatch’s just before he puts a bruising kiss on your shoulder, making you cry out in surprise, shivering against Thatch’s cock from the sudden shift in sensations. He goes back to tickling you before you can recover, fingers dancing easily over your skin and the network of ropes.

“I’d love to put you on display on the main mast,” Izou purrs, taking a moment as you screech from the renewed tickling, whimpering as you nearly drop the paper ball. “Letting everyone look at you.”

Thatch’s face goes an impressive shade of red as his head falls back and he starts thrusting up into you so much that you’re forced to ride his cock from the action. Izou stops tickling you, keeping you steady inside as Thatch fucks you from his limited position.

You’ve got the paper ball caught delicately between your teeth, panting heavily around it, catching your breath from all the laughing. Izou’s impressed. He wants to mess you up, crush the ball between your teeth and make you cum until you’re sobbing from repeated orgasms, and he might just do that to you tomorrow.

Since Thatch is currently cumming inside you with the deepest rumbled growl of relief Izou’s heard from him in a long time. His entire body goes slack against the table as the afterglow sinks into his muscles. He’s going to have a rough few days ahead of him, but Izou will show Thatch mercy if his orgasm ban starts to affect his duties as division commander.

Bedroom delights are meant to stay in the bedroom, after all.

And maybe, occasionally, on one of the mess hall tables.

“Good job, beautiful flower.” Izou hums, unclamping your nipples and letting you lean back against him as he begins to tease your clit with one hand, making you milk Thatch’s cock with his other hand. “Thatch isn’t going to be able to cum for quite a few days, so you should do your best and wring him dry.”

[dazedlvrboy]

The idea that people are trying to make it like there was sexual tension between Silco and Jinx, is gross and wildly inaccurate to me. Their relationship was meant to make you feel kinda uncomfortable, neither of them know boundaries. The whole "father, daughger" dynamic is not something they are use to, nor we're expecting. So obviously their not gonna know how to fully go about that, however that was his daughter. He raised her for half of her life after Vander died, he took her in, and showed her that she isn't a Jinx. He loved her unconditionally as a father would, and even in his last moments chose to tell her "she's perfect" so she would remember that despite her killing him, he still found her perfect and didn't see her as a Jinx. Thats his daughter, he's her father, end of story.

While we're on that topic, those who say he manipulated her and brainwashed her, are false as well. When he tells Jinx "It's only us", "Everyone betrays us", that's not him trying to make her believe he's the only person she has and keep her close. That's him fully believing his words, he's not someone who would go around saying stuff just to say it. In his experience, everyone did betray him, it's all he had known. After what happened with Vander and Vi, he started heavily projecting that onto Jinx as well because he feels it's true.

Moral of the story, he might not have been the best option or the perfect father figure. He certainly did bad things and hurt people, as did everyone in the show though. But one thing remains un-wavered, he truly did care about Jinx as his daughter, and he only said and did what he felt was best for her. He's not some manipulative "groomer" like I've seen some say, clearly those people don't look more into his character and their dynamic.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @midsummer-semantics! QueenOfSwords1312 has posted 51 fics to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 50 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@tedewitt recommends the following works by @midsummer-semantics:

A Kind of Merry War

Free-Use Health Care

Dia de los Muertos

The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between

Don't threaten me with a good time

"Jordan is an incredible writer first and foremost. They have a passion for writing that you don’t see every often. Their fics transport you into the world they’ve built and breathe new life into familiar characters." -- @tedewitt

Below the cut, @midsummer-semantics answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve somehow managed to make these guys my entire personality since they very very briefly interacted two years ago. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t even a huge fan of Steve until s4 (blasphemy, I know), but the Steddie brainrot took hold immediately and I feel like they’re genuinely such adaptable characters that putting them in a million different situations and seeing how they’d interact is one of the best parts.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Getting together, hands down. I will read them getting together in the same way a million times and never get tired of it, but everyone writes such interesting ways that it’s always good every single time.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Didn’t know they were dating. The small acts of domesticity that leads them to the realization they’ve basically been together without the kissing (and other things) all along it so fun and funny to me. Especially if it’s what leads to Steve’s sexual awakening.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

“Come what may (i will love you until my dying day)” by emurph_24. It changed my life in so many amazing ways and I credit that fic as the reason why I got into the fandom space itself and not just writing my little fics for funsies. Plus, the author is my wife now.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Eventually I’d love to write a proper Getting Back Together fic, but I hate making them fight and break up so it’s going to take some mental and emotional gymnastics in order to do that first before the good thing happens.

What is your writing process like?

It varies. Either I start with a proper detailed outline, every major plot point I want to hit laid out with a checklist and I go through each part until I’ve hit them all. Or I have one single idea or inspirational quote/event/story I heard somewhere in mind and I just insert Steddie into it instead. The first one takes me weeks to get through. The second I usually end up writing 10k in a day. Either way, I talk through pretty much everything with Tara (TEDewitt) and Erin (emurph_24) before and during the writing, and they’re the best hype-people and betas anyone could ask for.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I almost always start fics with the name of the person whose point of view will be used within the first sentence. “Eddie Munson is a fool.” “They’ve been dancing around each other for months and it’s driving Eddie up the wall.” “Steve knows he and Eddie are close.” I’m not sure why I do that, but I think it just makes it easier on my brain to know right away whose brain I’m using. I also hope it makes things clearer for people who read my stuff.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I tend to post when I finish writing (once Tara and Erin have had a chance to look through it), but I’d never published an entire fic chapter by chapter once it’s entirely written. I usually post chapters as I finish them, which makes me pretty bad about irregular updates (Sorry!). But I’ve been part of a few events now that have posting schedules and those have been WORLDS better about keeping me on track for things.

Which fic are you most proud of?

It’s a toss-up between “The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between,” “Free-Use Healthcare,” and “A Kind of Merry War.” The first is my longest fic and what I feel is the first real deep-dive into the characters, and it’s my baby. The second just did really really well and I’m still a little in shock by it. And the third was not only fun but everything I like to see in Shakespeare adaptations so it was a successful adaptation in my book.

How did you get the idea for Don't threaten me with a good time?

We all know the phrase “write what you know” and I’ve, frankly, lived a really weird life. So the story is literally just a Steddified version of a celebrity run-in I had on my birthday a few years back.

When writing The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to be as long as it is lol I mean, I knew it was going to be 22 chapters, but I didn’t really know going in how long those chapters would be.

What inspired The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between?

The major arcana, and my desire to write a fix-it of volume 2. I just really think Eddie deserved to live and the major arcana do tell “the fool’s story” so it was a great way to make that happen.

What was your favorite part to write from Dia de los Muertos?

The first kiss. Well, the entire thing was fun to write, but again, I’m a sucker for those boys getting together, and Eddie’s little panic attack when he surprise-kisses Steve the first time because he just can’t help it was so fun.

How do/did you feel writing Free-Use Health Care?

Like a horny goblin took over my brain and was controlling me Ratatouille-style until suddenly there was 10k words in less than 24 hours. It wasn’t even supposed to be two parts, it was only going to be one with an open ending, but I literally couldn’t stop thinking about a part 2 as I was writing part 1 so here we are.

What was the most difficult part of writing A Kind of Merry War?

Textual interpretation. I’m really familiar with Much Ado About Nothing from years of working with it, but trying to make the actual lines from the play that are featured in the fic make sense in a way that is easily understandable to non-Shakespeare fans without derailing the pacing or taking people out of the story was an insane balancing act. I like to think I nailed it, though.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In “Where lovers used to live (But they’ve been gone for quite some time)”, Steve finally gets to have the post-Eddie breakdown he deserves, but interwoven in that breakdown is repeated flooding of memories of how they got together before Eddie died. My favorite is when they’re getting a small moment in the RV just the two of them and Eddie is reading the Silmarillion to Steve, and Steve makes Eddie promise that when they survive the battle, they’ll run away together. Broke my own heart writing it, but god it was good.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I always have something up my sleeve, but the current and most exciting is the Eddie Munson Big Bang. I’m working with helpimstuckposting on an omegaverse Practical Magic AU called “Pressure in Increments,” coming very soon!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’ve really met some of the coolest people in the world through this fandom and I think their friendship has really helped this not die for me even when there’s times it gets overwhelming or I feel like I’m losing momentum to write. I know that no matter what else is going on, I have the boys and my friends in my corner, and that’s the best part of it all.

Thank you to our author, @midsummer-semantics and our nominator, @tedewitt! See more of QueenOfSwords1312's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[psycheetamore]

Day 21 of @dailydoseofaustinbutler January 2025

Alienating Austin

Summary: Austin Butler’s transformation into the imposing na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was meant to be a prime example of method acting. However, the thin line between actor and character starts to blur. A punishing preparation consisting of a physical metamorphosis combined with intense psychological preparations through immersing in the books and relentless coaching of director Denis Villeneuve, start to strip Austin of his identity. The essence of Feyd-Rautha vests itself inside the heart, mind and body of Austin. His warm smile and disarming presence making place for cold, calculated power. How far will Austin allow to lose himself against the alien force that Feyd-Rautha is, in the name of art?

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: not really. I mean, Feyd-Rautha and stuff, but it is countered by Austin Butler. There are some mean thoughts expressed, but nothing as bad as what is always going on in the news.

Austin looked in the mirror and was astonished. He did not recognise himself. His hair: gone. His eyebrows: gone. His colour: gone. Everything that made him to who he was: gone. Replaced with cold, lean power, visualised even inside of himself through the blackness that came from his face every time he opened his mouth.

Over the last months he had commenced this transition. His body had gained more than 11 kilos of pure muscle through the harsh care of his trainer Duffy Gaver. He had re-read the first three books of the Dune series to learn more about the character he was about to play and his antagonists. Black haired, handsome, youthful. Part of a breeding program. Super human he must have been. The missing part to creating the kwisatz haderach.

Austin had visited Stellan Skarsgård, his to be uncle, after already spending countless days dissecting the first movie. Viewing, recording, rewinding, listening, repeating. Using this information to change his voice, yet again. He still had traits of Elvis laced in them, and needed to sculpt another voice. Something that allowed him to make pitiless, gravel-voiced sounds. He had started to use this new utterance on a daily basis. As it grew on him softly, his surroundings did not think too much of it. Perhaps, because in all else to see and experience he was still the same good old, pleasant and friendly Austin. Nobody noticed the small changes that occurred every day.

He did not even notice it.

This failed him to prepare for one of the biggest shocks in his life. Yet, the question was whether anything could have prepared him for that. Prepare him for what he was about to see after seemingly endless passage of time spend in make-up, days at an end where Denis would come in, speak in French to the make-up artists, give them instructions not for Austin to understand, causing them to redo their earlier work more often than he could recall.

Whether Denis did it deliberately or not, Austin had only two hours before he was to come on set for his first shooting, before he saw himself in full gear, full make-up, full Feyd-Rautha. At no earlier moment did the director allow him to look at himself. Every time Austin was being plastered, he was placed him in a room without any reflective surfaces, with artists who did not give him any clue on what was happening.

He looked at himself, for the first time. In a training space, hidden in the belly of the studio, with minimal furniture and mirrors placed on nearly every centimetre of wall available. Denis had walked him in, steadily behind him, one hand on a shoulder, the other free to turn the lights on ever so softly. His reflection startled him. He had expected to see himself, recognise himself, and need to use the time to merge himself into the costume presented to him. But he was not wearing a costume. The man in front of him was not dressed up as a character. It was a person. An actual being. With the speed of light the thought had hit him that he had perhaps started to take steps into new depths of the realm of method acting: losing your identify as you transfer ownership of your body and soul to the arts. What part was still his?

The director had warned him before he opened the door, in his distinct French accent: “once you step through this door and see who you have become, you will leave as Feyd-Rautha. You will not walk around on set as Austin. I only want to see the na-Baron. You are the na-Baron. Give me a Harkonnen. Give me the future leader of your house. The future emperor, if the odds would have been in your favour” with increasing delivery in his voice, while his hands rested on Austin’s shoulders.

Denis must have felt Austin startle, as he held his shoulders just a bit tighter and whispered in his ear: “I will give you a bit of time to reconcile Austin and Feyd within yourself. In the corner you will find the attributes for the first scene. Two blades. One poisoned, one not. Through these blades you dictate the futures of others. Feel the weight. Feel how they move in your hands. Feel how they become one with you, become an extension of your arms. From this moment forward you are the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, until I snap you out of it.”

“Yes, Denis” he responded, not looking up at the man standing behind him, only staring at himself, while feeling the heavy weight of anticipation and expectations of one of the biggest names in movies. He wanted to appease Denis, but he was almost more anxious to find himself in the mirror, see himself, somehow notice that it was him in the reflection. But he did not see himself. He was virtually unrecognisable. It was another man looking at him. Not just looking: starting. Piercing through him. Observing him. Breaking him down, molecule by molecule, atom by atom, under the watchful eye of the director.

“I will leave you to it, na-Baron. A lot weighs on your shoulders: not just for this film, not just your name, but for the universe. And your name in it” Denis said, as he walked out the door, leaving Austin to battle with the abyss he was ploughed into.

He had expected himself to black haired, heavy brows, with opulent clothes. And, of course, also imposing and charming. But that was not the man standing in front of him. That was not the person he had become. He had become something else, something he had never been before. Something so alien to who he was in real life. All warmth had left his body, replaced with pure power. He oozed aggression, a contained, deliberate form of it. He was streamlined. He was a made into a machine, made to fight, conquer and rule. His skin was stretched over his muscles, void of all cushion that his female companions enjoyed so much. Merciless. Hard. Without any sway. The lack of eyebrows almost felt like a dog whose tail is cut: he was made to look emotionless. He was not allowed that luxury. Teeth black as the darkest night, so that blood would not further stain them. The man in front of him was so much more brutal than he could ever have imagined.

He had expected clothes that were inspired by the military, adorned with the sigal of his house, but this was so much more. These were clothes made to impress. Made to give a first blow before he had even set a foot into the direction of the person he was set to dominate. Not adorned with the Harkonnen sign, yet having its signature all over it.

Naively, Austin started to feel more free, liberated almost. He felt a weird feeling of joy, over the idea of no longer being Austin as he started to transition. His body started to become a vessel for a person that was pictured to live over ten-thousand years in the future. He looked at himself, using the typical expressions that he had perfected over time to swoon the girls. Tilting his head, pouting his lips, his smouldering stare, curling the corners of his mouth, clenching his jaws. Somehow, all of these looks still worked; perhaps they worked even better than before. Another layer of depth was added through the menacing look he now adorned. The same gazes, the same looks, but no longer with any warmth. The man he was, the boy he had been, it was swiftly becoming part of the past. Replaced with the smile of a predator, a man hunting game for sport with venom laced attributes. A man whose every word, decision and move were aimed at only one thing: domination. Sweetness and charm stayed, but no longer to protect his introvert self in the spotlights but to use as a means to an end.

He grabbed his attributes and weighed them in his hands. Actual knives. No plastic, not blunt. To be a part of him, and extension of who he is.

Actual sharp weapons, he found out as he had pierced his finger into shedding a drop of blood through the pinch of the knife. Seeing the blood, it excited him. It shouldn’t, but it did. The sting of pain made him feel even more invincible. Standing taller. Removing the last snippet of condonation. He sliced the air with the knives, looking in the mirror, visualising an opponent. More than a shadow to fight against, but another being. Another living being, soon to be condemned to the realm of the dead. He gulped as the thought exhilarated him. Never had he been able to explore this part of himself.

He acknowledged it had always been a part of him. Nobody knew, but all his roles were part of him. They unlocked hidden chambers from within the deepest corners of his being. And this role would uncover his most dark self. The door would be opened, and his secrets would merge with whatever was handed to him from his directors. The product of that reaction is what he would present on set, and what would remain within his soul.

His eyes flung open as it hits him what he has learned about himself. It is part of himself. His roles unlock parts of himself. He had always believed people were good. But this man he is playing here is not good. Does it mean he has something evil inside of him? What does this say about him? He was looking forward to playing this role, stepping outside of his comfort zone. But he is now doubting whether this was knowledge he wanted to have.

Yet, as he looks at himself, moving his weight from one foot to another. Seeing his arms. His hands. His face. Seeing the weapon he is, he forgets about how he transitioned, again. This was him. Speaking several of his lines out loud, while holding his knives. The most daunting one, where he would burn a Fremen girl alive: “only pleasure remains.” He now saw the scene in front of him, started practicing it. How he would walk in, no, stroll. An impressive strut, like he owned the cave it was in, in line with the truth. As he walked in with flair and determination, he would see his victim on her knees. He would move decisively towards her but not too quickly. She had killed several of his man and deserved retribution. This would not come in the form of a quick death. His commanding presence should make that known to her before he even spoke.

The Feyd-part of his brain started to think about the punishment she needed. Truly, the best recourse would have been to break her through torture. The worst thing that could happen to her is that she would change camps, become a loyalist to the House Harkonnen. If the Fremen knew he would be capable of such atrocities, they would flee upon his sight. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to him, it was decided this movie would be rated pg-13. How it made sense exposing 13-year-olds to genocidal dictators flabbergasted him. However, it meant that he needed to tone down the sexual tension he would be seeking in that scene.

Suddenly he was hit by thoughts of decency trying to overtake the darkness. A shout escaped his body, as he fell to his knees in guilt, blades nearly cutting through his hands. He looked up at himself, straight in the eye, and was taken aback. How could he be creating such malicious thoughts. How he could he think about molesting and slaying her, in that cave, in front of his men? Only because she defended herself and her tribe? Was this the forgiving man he prided himself to be? ‘Is this the man I have become? Is this what lies inside of me? Lurking?’ he thought to himself. ‘Is this who I want to be?’ he spoke to himself. But the man in the mirror did not respond. He only confirmed: ‘this is who you are.’

He looked down, upon his hands. The blade of one of the knives had started to be coated in a very thin layer of blood. ‘Yes’ he thought to himself. ‘This is who I am. This is what Denis wanted. This is what Frank Herbert envisioned. This is what I need to be.’

He was chosen because he could make room for another person within his body. He was nothing but a vessel. A container to hold the vision of the director. A womb even, providing a warm place for fertile eggs joined with seed to vest itself in. It explained why the preparation of his movies always took months, if not longer. Every pregnancy of a large being takes time.

Reluctantly he bit his under lip and looked up again, fighting against the tears welling up in his eyes as he started to push himself away. This was the man he had become, he needed to become. He needed to be ruthless, physically imposing, demanding. There was no room for Austin. The mere thought of Austin being present in this body should be alien. He needed to accept this. Not only that, he needed to embrace and love it.

Slowly he crept up. The time of games was over. It was the na-Baron, the future Baron, the future emperor who was standing here. Commanding this room. He looked at himself, tilting his face. A gaze more intense than he had ever mastered it. Everything in his body, on his body, carved to achieve victory. Victory over himself to begin with.

With a bit more than an hour left, he decided to rehearse the arena fighting scene he had practiced for days and days at an end with Roger Yuan, the fight coordinator. The man who would also play the last Atreides standing. He repeated it and repeated it and repeated it. Shadow fighting, every time more intense, adding details. Adding surprise elements to catch Roger off guard. Adding emotion: this was not just a fight. This was his claim to the throne. Not just the throne of the Baron, but the throne of the emperor, even if he would not know it at that very moment. His claim to become part of the genetic legacy created through the multi-generational-schemes of the Bene Gesserit.

The repetition all but placed him in a trance. His mind creating space for more Feyd to seep in. Making room for small mannerisms that would allow Feyd-Rautha to become alive. Removing the pleasantries he had surrounded himself with to protect his shyness in this harsh world, by replacing them with another form of protection: brutality.

A door opened, softly. A girl slipped in from the dark. He saw, through the corners of his eyes. He vaguely recalled he had seen her before, while she had brief interactions with the director. Perhaps she was his assistant. He was not sure. He had not been on set long enough yet to be familiarised with everyone. It did not matter, as she was below him. Just an assistant. He would only answer to his Baron, the director.

She walked to him, nearly as if she stalked him. She stepped into the act he was rehearsing, not providing a reason for him to stop. Her movements resonated the movements that Roger had made. Before he knew it, his muscle memory had kicked in and she became a part of the dance. He flung at her, placed several choreographed steps in her direction, as she backed off without taking her eyes away from him. She managed to thwart a few blows through her underarms, as they both forced each other on their knees. This was his cue to make a sweep, a blow placing her on her back. He crouched over her, sharp knifes still in his hand, lurking over her, spit seeping from his mouth.

At that moment, the fear in her eyes hit him.

He lunged back, while throwing the weapons to the farthest corners of the room.

He did not speak. She did not speak. She just left, leaving him there to contemplate.

After she left, he knew he had responded incorrectly.

Insolence, is what he had accepted implicitly. Unacceptable for the na-Baron.

+++

“Here you are” the director said, as the actor entered the set.

Tilting his head, he looked at the girl. Fear no longer graced her face, as it was replaced with something that looked like pride. She leaned away from Denis as if they had been gossiping about him before he come on.

He knew fear should grasp his bones, what he had done should have gotten him fired. It should have had him cancelled, rightfully. He barely contained himself. He did something he never thought he was capable of. He should feel ashamed. He should feel guilt. He should resign here and now. His head had been tainted with unspeakable thoughts.

But he did not. It was as if there was a hard core inside of him, protecting him against these thoughts truly impacting him. It was an alien feeling; he had lost control over himself and turned into someone else. He knew he should not be seeing his loved ones while filming ensued; he would not be able to control himself. He was in a dark place. He would need to tell Denis and the consent executive. They needed to know. Create protection for the people around him. He should have known that this would happen, considering he had adopted method acting ever since he prepared for Elvis. That movie too had cost him and his loved ones dearly. But the craft was worth it. It was what he wanted to give the world. It was not a problem it came at a cost. Perhaps it was even good that it came at a cost. Viewers would learn to appreciate the dedication and sacrifice that went into it. He had learned it the hard way that the best actors were scarred people, who thrived on collecting more scars. He needed to convince Denis not to expand on the scenes he was in. This place was too dark for him, and he knew that darkness would forever root in him.

But all of that was for later, as he looked up at Denis with discontent.

Denis looked at him, a smile of content forming through his lips: “the na-Baron is human: you have passed the test. Now take your place, young lord and test the sharpness of the blade.”

+++

Sources:

Post scriptum: the first picture fit just perfect. It gives exactly the vibes I was looking for, the influence of Denis. Everything.

Poured my heart and soul into this fic. Finding a victim to proofread (step 1), actually listening to them (step 2). Looking forward to learning what you think of this one.

Esquire interview on becoming Feyd

Austin Butler Opens Up About Hardships While Shooting For Dune 2: People Were Passing Out... | Republic World

The Australian

How Austin Butler packed on 25lbs of muscle for Dune: Part Two | British GQ

[sfsolstice]

exurb1a, from "Mum" in Poems for the Lost Because I'm Lost Too

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[altarfates]

I’ve been feeling some kinda way so now that I’m home and ready to write lemme just say.

no one really prepares you for how grieving a friendship or relationship feels and whilst I know how easy it is to fall into hurt and anger I’m just slowly realizing that as hard as making that decision for yourself is it’s not a bad thing and eventually you will be able to look back on the things that happened before everything took those turns and go there were good times and like reminisce in a way that isn’t inherently painful.

[randomnameless]

I forgot Saint Cichol's day :(

Fodlan AU :

Back when they were still kids living in Zanado, kid!Rhea gifted Cichol a stick figure drawing for his 1200th birthday, of them holding hands with a book for a bedtime story with some blurr that was supposed to represent Macuil in the background.

Cichol kept that drawing when he left Zanado to "explore" Enbarr, and forgot to remove it from his travel bag.

(let's say it was preserved with magic so the ink and the paper wouldn't fade over time)

After Nemesis' party, the drawing was what he thought to be the only memento he had left of his kid sister.

Returning to Garreg Mach, he put the drawing in his drawer, and once a mortified Rhea asked him what the crap he was doing with that "old stuff".

"It is just an old present."

Rhea believes he's teasing her and she doesn't like it at all, she learnt how to draw since that time! Maybe she can give him a new drawing for his next birthday?

(but then she feels like dirt : she cannot draw them together anymore, between his 1200th birthday and now, she ruined his life, made him a widow, made him lost his powers and is the reason why his daughter is convalescent! Maybe, deep inside, Cichol really hates her?)

Maybe a portrait of him and Cethleann would be better, but now that she thinks about it, she saw him talk to Manuela, maybe she can add her? But if she adds Manuela, she must add Hanneman, and Billy too, has a professor, but also, as a member of their family! And yet, she knows Catherine will be upset if she is left out of the portrait, adding Catherine also means adding Shamir, and she can visualise Flayn holding Cyril's hand while Alois would be in the background and...

Billy thus pops up after having waited 180 seconds behind the door of her office, to make their rapport, without hearing anything and spots her writing something? Or not?

Having never drawn anything before, because Jerry's picked lifestyle isn't suitable for children to draw, Billy is fascinated by the simple act of "drawing", and wants Rhea to teach them how to, before realising they didn't have anything planned for Seteth's birthday, isn't it Saint Cichol's day? Maybe he'd like a fishing rod? Or some flowers?

Rushing to meet Flayn, they ask her what he would like, only for Flayn to say that anything Billy will have picked would please him, especially if it's a handmade present. This is why she Mercedes graciously accepted to help her bake biscuits for his birthday (but she frowned when Flayn suggested to use fish stock to flavour them).

A bit lost, Billy wants to give a personalised letter to him with the flowers and fishing rod, and inspired by Rhea, they try to draw, but the result isn't satisfying. Maybe their students would know how to draw?

Supreme Leader brags about the famous "Hresvelg artistic skills" passed down since the dawn of the Empire, but Hubert makes her reconsider using her time displaying her talents to a mere mercenary turned professor.

Dimitri wishes to help, but since his days as a kid, he gave up on drawing anything on paper since he was afraid he would break any quill, but he remembers he played a lot with Felix back then, drawing their favourite knights in the snow (Felix calls him a moron and denies having wasted his time like that).

Claude pretends he doesn't know how to draw - fully aware that maybe his technique would betray his Almyran heritage - but tells Billy that Ignatz might help them... only for Billy to mention how Ignatz's current drawing reminds them of Rhea, and Ignatz being a bit embarassed because he was painting a portrait of Saint Seiros.

When Seteth receives his presents, he got a bottle of alcohol, several new quills, a pair of dices (if the bottle came from Manuela, who gifted him a pair of dices?), some sort of handrest to help him after hours of paperwork, a new lamp, edible biscuits shaped like lions (is Flayn subtly telling him she wants to spend more time with the Faerghan students?), an enormous flower bouquet with a happy birthday letter with what is supposed to be a cat (?), a new fishing rod and a portrait of his colleagues and family, save for Rhea herself.

Thanking everyone - even if he still told Manuela that no, they aren't going to finish her bottle in one night but he'll accept sharing a drink with coworkers - he makes sure to pat Rhea's head, when they're alone, to thank her personally. As expected, it annoys her and she calls him senile.

But isn't she the one who forgot to draw herself? She came a long way from her "stick figures" era, but she forgot the most important : them holding hands.

Rhea promises she'll think about it the next year, but then Flamey rings.

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[eternal-reverie]

got the posting anxiety bad tonight

[spacedkey]

the eternal struggle of reading webcomics/manga/manh(w/u)a that i think are really good but have cringe ass titles so i can't recommend them without someone doubting my sensibilities and taste in stories

[starbuck]

HATE when i’m taking a class that i KNOW would be a piece of cake for people who are fans of objective definitions with no exceptions and unexamined moral outrage…

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Young Justice stans really do not like it being pointed out on twitter that their show in the end did more time skips then character development and when they did do character development, it was in tie in stuff like comics and a video game, huh?

[bat-the-misfit]

i only know two Ni doms irl but they're both driving me crazy

[anthyies]

jack drake is a dad for sure