#destiny x you

[loveandfictionforall]

never mind it's me again, can I request another one but with Cayde this time? With "person a contemplating on whether to send person b a text "? Ok now I'm gone, thank youu, byeee~

If you like it, it would be very kind of you to reblog!

You were fucking nervous. An absolute trainwreck. No enemy made you tremble like that - but Cayde did. And you hated and loved that. He was the Vanguard of the Hunters. One of you, your leader. A very friendly and very close person who treated nearly everyone the same.

And you two had sex. Two days have passed since then. With your jittering nerves you quickly played one Crucible match after the other, trying to avoid him while your heartbeat always quickened at the thought of him. If you had to be honest, you would say that you really, really like Cayde.

But you knew he would never feel the same. You were just a quickie. A person, who he had sex with. The more time passed though, the more you felt like you had to do something. I mean, you could try it? If he had no interest, you would always and forever go on missions and never meet his eyes again, ignoring him completely. Yeah, you could do that, you thought to yourself and nodded.

Your little mobile device which was connected with Ghost and just recently came out laid before you. Ghost directed a light towards your desk where some letters were shown, which you could use to type. You just had to fucking click on the letters with your finger on your desk! It was not difficult! But still your hands hovered over the light keyboard.

“Screw it”, you whispered to yourself and began to tipe away. Quickly you formed one sentence, then the other and another one. Before you could stop, you quickly pressed on send. Your heartbeat was echoing loudly in your ears. You felt like you would combust.

“I don’t know if I was just a quickie for you or something more, Cayde. It drives me insane to not know it. I really like you.”

Just some quick sentences, nothing major.

A second passed, then a minute and then some more. With each minute your hope began to dim. Your heartbeat was normal again, but you felt an ache in your chest like you never felt before. You did not react when Ghost silently flew towards you, gently nudging against your check.

“I am such an idiot”, you whispered to Ghost and yourself, some stray tears running down your cheeks.

Then a light knock was heard and before you could react and send them away, the door opened, revealing Cayde, leaning against the doorframe, Sundance hovering beside his head.

“I think we need to talk.”, was everything Cayde said before he entered your room and pushed the door closed with his feet. “So, let’s talk”, he added in a serious tone.

[demaparbat-hp]

Damage.

Quote by @desertbcrnnobody

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɴᴇʀᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yandere nerd who everyone hates bc hes a lil bitch and tattletell

yandere nerd who even u hate

yandere nerd who voluntarily becomes your tutor once the teacher said you are failing

yandere nerd who has a huge blush on his face while helping you on your homework, stuttering in every sentence

yandere nerd whose cock gets hard when he sees your gaze on him, paying attention to every word he says

yandere nerd who bites his lip to hold in a moan when you complimented how smart he was

yandere nerd who u still dont fw, but appreciate bc he got your grades higher

yandere nerd who realizes that one your grades get nhigher, you wont need him anymore, so he hacks the teachers computer to bring your test score to a 0 (lil BITCH)

yandere nerd who you now go to everyday for tutoring, going to his house

yandere nerd who hides his shrine of your things, and panties he stole

yandere nerd who never had a touch of a woman other than his mother

yandere nerd who has a blush and stuttering when you rubbed his back, trying to fight his urges to palm himself through his pants

yandere nerd who cries and begs you to stay over at his house when it starts getting dark, knowing that if you left he was gonna cry into his pillow, wanting to see you

yandere nerd who manages to convince you to stay over, cuddling ontop of you, putting your head between his boobies

yandere nerd who whispers sweet things to you as he wrapped his legs around your waist, not wanting you to leave him

yandere nerd who now clings into you, saying that you guys are basically dating after that cuddle session

yandere nerd who pouts and sulks whenever you hang out with someone other than him, it could even be your female bestie and he would be pulling on your arm, telling you "lets go!!! I dont wanna be near this roach!! Come, n/n!!" whining

yandere nerd who suffers from jealousy issues, wanting to bang his head against the wall anytime you post an insta picture that has someone other than you in it

yandere nerd who pouts as he touches himself, rubbing his pinkish tip as he messages you crazy text messages saying what he wants you to do to him, jealous that you were hanging out with someone other than him he wants that cute, pretty hand of your touching him, and shoving ur fingers down his throat

yandere nerd who is ur lil helper and will always be! <33

WSG CHAT

SEND REQUATS NOEWWWW

[theology101]

Yo forgive the fact that i recorded this on an iphone in an amc, but can we like… discuss for a second

Feyd-Rautha, if he had a single second to live, would’ve started making out with Paul. This man has never been turned on more in his fucking life then fighting his predestined Cousin-Soulmate over who gets to be the Father of the Kwisach Haderach

You know he was pissed as fuck that Jessica ruined the plan. Man would’ve been SO HYPE to make Super Messiah Babies with Paul(ine)

[emmster]

I think I’ve decided to make the comic with Ghoap in mind

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (III)

summary: your limits are pushed until something snaps

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

Feyd-Rautha is in your dreams again. Black teeth, barking laugh. But it’s not the same. Eyes alight with something you don’t understand. Dress heavy and clinging. Nails dragging down your wet skin. Dagger in your hand pressing against his throat. Poisoned words on his lips. “You wear blood well, my darling.” His image fades as hands cup your cheeks.

The day that follows is endless. Finalizing preparations for the coming days of events. Fielding requests from the minor houses for a moment of your time. A meeting over concerns of recent tectonic activity that your absent father is supposed to attend. Two more run throughs of the dance. The swordmaster demands two more after dinner.

Irulan is entangled in conversation with Duke Leto throughout the meal. Nauseously you wonder when an engagement will be announced. It was the destiny the Atreides had stolen. Paul would be Emperor and you would be nothing but a disappointment. Your father toasts to how proud he is of the woman you’ve grown into. There’s no truth in it. You can only blink at the lemon tart that’s served for dessert as he promises he’s prepared a fun few days ahead. 

When the meal is over you do not seek Fandral. You do the opposite and duck out of his sight at the first opportunity. He knows you’re supposed to return to the Small Hall and practice again. As comforting as his presence has been, you don’t want comfort or encouragement or protection. You want to stab something. Repeatedly.

The training yard is empty. The weapons are locked away, but you have the dagger Feyd-Rautha had gifted. You’d carried it with you throughout the day. Tucked away into the deep pockets of the borrowed gowns. You aren’t sure why today you felt the need to have it and not any other. Maybe you knew you’d need it. Or maybe you made the need for it because you had it. Either way, it serves your purpose.

The mannequin takes the blade with little resistance. It was natural in your hand. No matter how much or little pressure you use, it doesn’t slip and slice your palm like others do. A well made dagger.

You flick on the mannequin’s shield to test how well it handles the added strain.

“I am glad to see you enjoying my gift.”

There’s little resistance as you sink it into the stomach of the mannequin. “I am sick of pleasantries and pandering, na-Baron. Leave me be.”

Feyd-Rautha is predictable. You knew he would follow. You know he’ll take the chance to attack.

There’s the slightest whoosh of air that warns you. You evade the blade in his hands by millimeters, dodging to the right. You push the mannequin towards him. It knocks into him, unbalancing him for a moment long enough to twist your own shield on. His black grin is wide again as he recovers and stands tall. The dagger he carries isn’t much different from his gifted one. The handle thicker and longer, a few teeth in the blade, but from what you can glimpse it’s clear they had been made by the same hands. 

He lunges, expecting your evasion and slices at where your throat goes. He’s too fast and it bounces off. You counter with a jab to his arm, slow enough that it strains his shield. He doesn’t give it the time to penetrate as his blade comes back again.

The dance continues. Both of you manage to knick the other occasionally. You feel blood seeping from a slash across your chest and more from one along your back. He has two along his arms and one on his hip. You’ve held well, but he is taller and stronger and you feel yourself begin to falter.

“Growing tired, my lady?” he teases as you barely dodge another attack. 

“As would you under the weight of this dress.”

“I have no objection to you removing it.” He’s quick even after the extended duel. He strikes, and in your attempt to get away, he catches your hand and turns your shield off. The humming of his shield silences as you're pulled and turned until your back meets his chest. His blade is against your neck with a familiar chill and fingers digging into your hip. “Though it may tempt me into distraction.”

An unfamiliar fire blooms with the confession. “Careful what you share, na-Baron. I might use that sort of information against you one day.” Something twitches against your lower back.

“Let her go.”

The hand gripping your hip, the blade at your throat, and the warmth on your back are gone in an instant. You’ve never heard The Voice before, but it’s unmistakable. It’s not even directed at you, but your mind blurs and your body is pliant, as if waiting for its own command to follow. Fandral’s face blocks your view. He’s questioning if you’re alright, if you feel faint or dizzy. You can’t answer. It’s as if you're treading through the water again. 

You’re turned and pulled again, but now you’re separated from Feyd-Rautha by your guard and Paul Atreides. The heirs point their blades at each other. Paul accuses him of taking and hurting you. As if you were some helpless damsel.

“Stop,” you say. It’s too quiet, your mouth numb. Fandral shushes you and tries to lead you away. You try again, louder, “Stop!”

Neither heir moves.

“I asked him to spar.” It’s only a half lie. Paul’s tense pose eases as he finally breaks his gaze off Feyd-Rautha. “I wasn’t taken. He didn’t hurt me.” Paul's eyes dip to your chest. “Not anymore than I did him, anyways.”

Fandral questions, “In an evening dress? Alone?”

“It is when she is most vulnerable.” Feyd-Rautha has lost his smile. “Given her security leaves much to be desired at the best of times.”

You can feel the loathing radiating from Fandral. But there is no denial.

You nod at your former opponent “Thank you for your time, na-Baron. It was very enlightening.”

“It was a pleasure, my lady. You fight like a Harkoneen.”

The fire he lit burns brightly on your cheeks.

“What was the point in asking for a personal guard?” Fandral huffs when you’ve returned to the palace. His jacket is around your shoulders to cover the slice in the back of your dress. He’d wanted you to see the doctor, worried again about poison, but you refused. “If you wanted to train, you should have asked me.”

“Or me,” Paul says on your other side. “He could have hurt you.” He doesn’t recognize the condescension of his concern.

“That was the point.” You have to stop yourself from touching the wound on your chest. “How am I supposed to know training has been effective if I’ve never faced real consequences?”

Fandral scolds, “If you stay with your guard, you’ll never be in a situation where you have to find out if it’s effective.” He shakes his head, pushing the door to the Small Hall open. It was the compromise he relented to. No doctor visit if you came here. 

“You’re late,” the swordmaster calls out from where he stands in the middle of the room with a guard you recognize as one the Atreides’. His eyes travel across your mussed form. “I hope the other person looks worse than you.” 

“He doesn’t.” 

You glare at Fandral as the swordmaster decides that is a personal offense against his training and decides that practice will be doubled for it. It’s only as you look for the woman who always carries your swords that you realize she’s not there. None of the others are. But Paul still is.

“I shall see you tomorrow?” You hope he understands it’s a dismissal.

The question amuses him. “I intended to practice with you tonight.”

“With me?”

He smiles as if you’re missing something obvious.

The dance isn’t silly anymore. Fandral had been right. It does tell a story. One of submission. 

There are no troubadours, only the sole Atrides guard who plucks at the strings of a Baliset. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips.

Even without the additional instruments you recognize the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They shriek in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin until the music nearly dies.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool. Fandral claps to the beat the drums usually play as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

Paul stands there now, sword pulled free. He brings it in front of him as he drops into a defensive stance. The Baliset begins again now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until he flicks the sword out of your hand. You take the hand he offers and spin into him as the music reaches a subdued crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the eyes of the person who has taken everything from you until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

Three more times you are subjected to the humiliation. It will be once more tomorrow.

When Paul and his guard are gone, jolly at the surprise they’d sprung on you, you round on the swordmaster. He answers your unspoken question. “Your father did not want you to know until the last possible moment.”

“Perhaps you should wait until morning,” Fandral attempts to persuade you as he shadows you down the empty corridors. “Or at least remove your swords?” You don’t bother with a response. 

The guards stationed outside his door attempt to stop you, but you’re quick to dip under their arms and push into the room. You're unsurprised to find a courtesan in his bed. There’s a scandalized shout from her and curses from him as they scramble to cover themselves.

“Get out,” you tell her. 

Your father objects, but she is quick to comply. She pulls her dress from the floor and slips into it with practiced ease. She’s gone within a minute. The door closes behind her.

“You’ve gotten bold,” he growls.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

With a huff he says, “Because you wouldn’t have done it if you did. I told the Atridies you’d be too shy to do it if you knew and the boy thought it was enduring.”

“Why have me dance with him at all?”

He shrugs. “It was their suggestion.”

You stare at him. He’s pathetic. “You were wrong,” you tell him, bile on your tongue. “I would have done it if you asked. I would’ve done anything for you.” You leave before he sees the tears slide down your cheeks.

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t have a chance to visit you that night. Sleep never comes. Anger too potent to allow any rest.

When morning comes the maids work on making you presentable. There’s comments on the bags under your eyes and the new scar across your chest. You let them cover the former, but insist on keeping the latter. “Your father won’t like it,” one cautions. You're not inclined to care what he likes anymore. It’s something they soon realize.

They’re hesitant to style your hair in the way you instruct, but relent. Then the dress they offer, another of his choosing, is refused. You see their realization when you tell them what you’ll wear instead. Their efforts to sway you are in vain as you threaten to leave the room as bare as the day you were born.

Fandral stops in the doorway after the maids leave. “You look…”

You're still standing in front of the mirror. The dress is lilac, frilly and feminine in a way you’ve never been allowed. Your hair is braided, save for the pieces that frame your face. You look soft. Delicate. Like a painting that had been tucked away when you asked too many questions.

“Like my mother.” 

There’s only one thing missing. The rogue lies abandoned on the vanity. It’s vivid enough that a single dab of the brush colors both your cheeks.

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[kaiaelsher]

A scenario where Raf invite you over to read this one book that was actually restricted by the government the moment it was released so there was only one copy of it and he just - casually read them on the couch because he has that book wrapped with other unrecognizable lable so it's safe to just carry it around without getting caught.

You sat between his legs and leaned your back on his chest, feeling the way his chest slowly and steadily raise up and down in order to appear calm (yet his heartbeat stated otherwise) and read the slowly fading yet readable phrases written as you both talked to each other about your opinion regarding the topics written there, even better if the book was a fictional story and you both gave your perspective about this one character.

And Rafayel LOVES IT he loves hearing your opinions on things he's interested on.

After that, the story in the book become the inside jokes between you two, when you were about to do something you know is fucked up, you're going to just say, "Whatever, (character name) is way more fucked up that I am.". Or the both of you just randomly says the memorable quotes from the book as a way to joke with each other.

I think that's beautiful.

[minkyungseokie]

𝒟𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 | ​Toto + Susie Wolff

synopsis; Susie Wolff gets a newly appointed PA to help her with the F1 Academy and they develop a close friendship over the months until the friendship becomes more. Of course, she tells hers husband about the girl

status; ongoing

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:40, T: 51), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names,

has a faceclaim, so if you don't like that please don't read

note; technically requested

note2; I was asked to make a singular fic, but I wanted to make it a series

fc; imleslie(on a Chinese Instagram app called Xiaohongshu)

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist

Come Talk to Me

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

synopsis; Susie Wolff gets a newly appointed PA to help her with the F1 Academy and they develop a close friendship over the months until the friendship becomes more. Of course, she tells hers husband about the girl

❧ About Y/n

❧ 第一章| Getting the Job

❧ 第二章 | Moving and Meeting the Boss

❧ 第三章 | First Day of Work

❧

❧

❧

[kindaasrikal]

Guys I’m an old people defender i wholeheartedly believe Wu is a good teacher and person (teen wu and younger was a good character, older wu doesnt have the same effect tho and just falls under a decent character)

Like guys he didn’t mean for Morro to go insane over the green ninja thing, i dont think anyone would’ve expected that to happen with a damn baby. Not to mention that as much as people like to say he abused or neglected Morro or whatever, canonically speaking he hasn’t. In the end what happened to Morro was the effect of his own insecurities and Wu’s lack of understanding.

Wu was not at fault for the whole kai getting obsessed with the green ninja thing or any of the other ninja doing the same, that was all their own faults for being all nosy (as teenage boys with too much power do.)

Wu might’ve overreacted after finding out what Garm did with the letter business in season 4, but just cause he cussed out his BROTHER once (guys they’re siblings, this is the norm and Wu was fully justified to be irritated. Also there will always be a tension between them because they’ve had to fight against each other for either decades, hundreds of years, or thousands of years. They will never have the normal sibling relationship they once only somewhat had.) that was still his brother he just lost and definitely feels guilt at not getting to reconcile PROPERLY with him. Just because you are mad at an individual, genuinely mad at them, does not mean you hate them.

Wu was not at fault for the whole Garmadon getting sent to the under world his clothes literally starts glowing mf was not planning that. He was literally about to die because of Garmadon i think he was a tad preoccupied with that.

Wu is not at fault for Lloyd becoming the green ninja, its shown that he cannot control who gets chosen and was quite obviously hoping it would be the damn teenagers trained to deal with this, not the damn baby who would have to fight his DAD. The whole reason he trained Lloyd so hard after was because he is well aware of how being the green ninja is a curse, especially to Lloyd. He knew a target was on Lloyds back now and for the rest of time and he can do nothing to remove it, only help Lloyd in handling it.

Aspheera is a huge SOGGY BISCUIT I HATE HER I AHTE HEERYEYYE. She is so hypocritical and its all her fault and not Wu’s don’t even try it (i love her character thats why i hate her sm). Wu was literally a baby when the whole betrayal thing happened, and how could he have known his damn students would open up her prison cell and she’d take Kai’s power. Kai had a right to mad about getting dragged into it but even he admits he was reacting the way he was because his powers got stolen. Aspheera was completely at fault for what happened to her.

I wont deny that whatever was going on between Misako and Wu in the early seasons was super weird, but I’m also not going to call it betrayal or cheating for Garmadon because Garmadon had been gone for a good decade and tbh it was rlly bad writing of writers trying to shove romance everywhere.

He took in a bunch of teenagers, thats something i wont deny to also be bad. But don’t you find it convenient that Wu took them each in during separate times of need? Cole, deep in grief, needed to become a ninja because it completed him. Jay, desperate for a place and purpose in this world, needed to be a ninja to become confident and aware of his worth. Zane, confused and lost, needed to be a ninja to find his own place in the world, needed to be a ninja because he needed to have a purpose, a home. Kai, angry and traumatised, needed to become a ninja to become the best version of himself. Wu knew of each of them, and only took them in when he knew they needed an outside source to lead them.

Literally i dont understand why people paint him as a villain. He has never been one. It’s like how Mystake said, the only reason one becomes wise is through their own mistakes, their own life and experiences. Wu is an old, old man. He is right when he says he’s not like how he used to be.

I could keep going, but God guys. Stop mischaracterising characters! You can dislike them all you want, its your life, but don’t change what they have done and call them a bad person when that isn’t true.

You can call Wu a character with mistakes, a character heavily in the light grey area of good and evil.

WU IS NOT A BAD GUY GUYS STOP CALLING HIM ONE 😭

[lovecrimer]

my one thing about just about any fandom ever is that fans will almost always choose their mlm ships over their wlw ships. i can’t say i am entirely innocent when it comes to this of course, but i have noticed this is a large issue that no one ever seems to talk about. if i look up almost any wlw ship on this app there is like ZERO fanart and it makes me sad because i want it !!

[loveandfictionforall]

Ayo my friend, can I request one of those fluffy prompts with Shaxx? The "person a shyly playing with person b's rings while cuddling". ok, byyee, love you

Ayo my cutie pie 🥹🥰 Totally can do 🥰

After all what happened, it was finally one of those day where nothing was going on. Of course it could be the eye of the storm but you wanted to be positive and hope for the best.

Shaxx was nevertheless occupied with Crucible, wanting to strengthen their guardians and shaping their skills. He was always over the top, demanding a lot.

But now the day was almost over and the moon would soon reach it highest point again. You were curled up against his hard chest, free of any armor. His helmet also laid forgotten on his table while you two where cuddled up in a large, fluffy seat with enough space foe you two. Beside the seat was a small table where Shaxx nigthly tea stood, still steaming and just slowly cooling down.

Absentmindedly you took his large hand in yours while his other one stroked your back. With fascination you traced the veins of his hands, lightly touching his fingertips and drawing circles on the back of his hand.

After a while you fingers began to follow each finger, from finger tip to the wrist. Stopping only for just a second when your fingers were caught against his rings. Slowly your focus shifted towards them and with lazy fingers you began to turn them on his finger.

One of them was the wedding band of you two. A similar was on your much smaller ones also.

[ennn]

Agatha and Rio as star-crossed lovers: Why a happy ending for them is unlikely (for now) but it'll be okay (probably?)

Look, I’m obsessed with these two—both their complex characters, their crazy unique dynamic—it’s a ship I actually can’t play favourites with!

BUT I also fully expect these two will fight it out in the finale and they aren’t headed for a happy ending, at least not a happy ending where they walk off happily into the sunset together at the end of this series and we shippers should maybe try to not freak out about it.

Let’s look at what the show is—in my opinion—telling us about these two. Under the cut for spoilers and my heap of meta thoughts–

Agatha’s arc is about her finding her coven, her community

I’ve written a bit more about the show’s and our protagonist's arc here: Basically underneath all that lust for power, Agatha’s deepest desire is to find a coven, a family of witches she can share her trials and blessings with. Agatha loves powerful witchcraft and she wants someone to share it with.

And she did find Rio. These two incredibly lonely women found each other, fell in love, and probably murdered their way through so many people together.

But then Agatha had a child and realised she could be a little bit less selfish for another human being. And then Rio took him away and they separated but i think they ultimately never dealt with what I think is at the heart of their rift now, of Agatha still having that bit of humanity and vulnerability for human connection in her.

Now of course at this point I don’t know what Rio’s deal is exactly. Is she human? Was she human? What happened in her past? What we do know is that Rio has a certain detachment from people, and that she enjoys watching Agatha kill witches.

Right now Agatha's getting a taste of what having a coven can be like. Something she's not had in centuries. Them working together, making magic together. That moment during the campfire where she realised they were laughing with her. The shared experience of riding those broomsticks.

Yes, covens—like any kind of family or community—can be good or bad. They can lift you up or tear you down. Agatha's first coven and mother failed her, we'll see how this one fares (especially after what we saw in episode 5). Will they be enough to bring out more of Agatha's humanity?

The thing is, Agatha is going on a bit of a character development journey and Rio—whose her world hasn't been rocked the same way Agatha's has—isn't.

Now I don't expect Agatha to turn over a new leaf by the end of the series but I expect her to be in a somewhat different place from where she started, and Rio I expect will not be in that same place. At least not by this series' end.

There is a certain tension at the end of episode 4 after Rio brings up the topic of "the boy". And again when Rio watches Agatha leave the cabin in episode 5. I think Rio is recognising that this isn't the Agatha she knew and first fell in love with many years ago, and she's not happy about it.

Agatha's moving in a direction Rio might not be able to follow, and I expect that's where we'll get our conflict down the road.

In a world without logistical limits, it's not impossible for these two to be together given enough time and character development (and hey that's what fic is for) but with 4 episodes remaining I expect we'll at best get more of a bittersweet resolution for them, after both of them finally let loose the anger they have at each other.

A closing of a chapter, I suppose, but not necessarily The End.

Agatha and Rio love each other, but they also bring out the worst in each other

It’s clear that these two have loved and do still have love for each other. That they found a special connection with each other that has maybe even saved one or the both of them before.

But they can also be standing in each other's way.

I'm reminded of these lines from Killing Eve:

I think my monster encourages your monster, right? I think I wanted it too.

Look, Agatha can't have a community if she keeps killing members of that community in the pursuit of power. Yes, with Rio around, it's terribly romantic: the two of them against the world. But what if Agatha actually wants to be a part of that world, even a little?

And as for Rio, now this is just my theory but it's possible Rio is perhaps too focused on the darker aspects of her role, of her power.

As The Green Witch, isn’t she meant to be more than Death?

I've been marvelling at all the details in Rio's nature-themed warrior witch outfit. It's beautiful, a celebration of life. She clearly has a strong connection with plants; there's a cute spider on her jacket; she's shown some ability to heal. Even her Death outfit has vines and roots forming her chest piece — what happened with Rio to make her hone in on spreading violence and death?

It just feels like there's a story there, to have her be The Green Witch as opposed to a more traditional or mainstream manifestation of a Death entity.

It's clear that these two came together and did monstrous things. There's usually reasons for that. Human or not, I suspect Rio has her own pain, one that's warping the balance of nature. Maybe they both need to heal in their own way, apart from each other.

This relationship is important to the show

Whatever happens, it's clear that this relationship is key to Agatha's story and the show. Their relationship, with its soft moments and sharp edges, filled much of the first episode on purpose and I expect it to play a major part in the finale as well – an appropriate bookend – including the fight between them.

You could even say that it's actually a good thing that these two are getting the focus at the show's start and end. It's always been Agatha and Rio: understanding each other, at each other's throats, pushing each other, tearing at each other, wanting but not meeting each other.

The thing about this being a "small stakes" show is that the cause of the fight happening between them can be very personal. A lovers' quarrel. Rio may simply want to kill Agatha for something she did, or in rage or fear of losing her.

On that note though, these two have such a long and complicated – and as Hahn once put it "toxic maybe but loving" – relationship that one big violent messy fight in itself doesn't worry me. I mean, we've all seen episode one.

Maybe sometimes you have to bleed to let the poison out.

This is still a love story.

[d3stinyist1red]

Yandere Artist? (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

yan artist who met you in art class, his elective. As soon as he saw you, he could feel his mouth watering, and about to drool. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen, ever since then you were his muse.

yan artist who draws you ALL the time, his sketchbook filled with realistic drawings of you even though he hasnt even talk to you ONCE.

yan artist who tries to initiate convo with you, but fails due to his immense stuttering issue and how introverted he was.

"ca-can I have a pen-pencil? I lost mine a-at my grandmas g-grav- I mean at like universal- or no! sorry, ill..just ask someone else.." yup he panicked.

yan artist who believes you are the reason he can create art. Every piece he makes, in some way, is inspired by you—whether it’s something u like or something that reminds him of you. All his art, shape or form is related to you.

yan artist who was artistic peices, that are so detailed, it’s eerie. He spends hours, even days, perfecting every tiny feature, all while thinking of you

yan artist who you finally talked to because he seemed like a total loser with zero friends.

"Hey man, I like your drawing!" You said, it was one of those times that he WASNT drawing you, he was instead drawing the cat that is gonna be his and yours kid in the future.

yan artist who jumped, and glared at whoever said that before his eyes softened once he realized it was you. His eyes lit up, you were finally talking to him!

"T-thank you.." He muttered, smiling. "Hey dude, whats your name again? Lets be friends, yeah?"

yan artist who you then became friends with.

yan artist who is extremely possessive of the art he makes of you. No one else is allowed to see these pieces. They are too personal, too intimate. The idea of anyone else looking at his portrayal of you drives him mad with jealousy.

He hides the most intense and obsessive portraits in a locked drawer, mostly drawings of u doing the most diabolically things to him

yan artist who starts showing his drawings of you, first showing u small ones, and then slowly going to show u the more detailed ones. You thought he was a weird mf, but you felt bad bc he had ZERO friends

yan artist who uses his art to express fantasies where you belong to him. He’ll paint scenes of the two of you together—holding hands, embracing, or even living a life where you’re completely devoted to him.

yan artist whose eyes are always on you. He stares at you intensely, observing every tiny detail. He doesn’t care if it makes you uncomfortable—he needs to take in every aspect of your being for his art.

When you catch him staring, he’ll just smile softly and say, “You’re too be-beautiful not to lo-look at. I need to re-remember this moment.” He says with a blush on his face.

yan artist who is ur freaky artist who cant even hold eye contact with you yet thinks hes the alpha

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I kind of love how Zutara has two distinct ship dynamics

dynamic 1: “I will save you from the pirates,” enemies-to-lovers, Zuko is dangerous but sexy, bad boy x good girl, morally grey antihero, Dramione vibes etc

dynamic 2: Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, idiots-to-lovers, pining for your best friend, having each other’s backs, thinking she’s the coolest thing since sliced bread, Percabeth vibes etc

We can argue about which is the correct interpretation until the cows come home, but I love that the possibilities exist in the first place. From s1 to post-series headcanons there are such distinct stages in their relationship, and you can basically pick whichever point that appeals to you and run with it. There’s something for everyone. Yet another reason why they’re the best ship y’all

[kazodus]

hashtag when your two goats are in a panel together #win

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (I)

Feyd Rautha x fem!reader

summary: Your father had been promised an heir. But the choices made by another stole that fate from you. Now it's your turn to take theirs.

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 1.2k

dividers / masterlist

“Again,” the swordmaster calls out. 

Gritting your teeth, you comply and fall back in position with the others. All this show for what?

With a nod, a troubadour began to pluck at the strings of her Baliset again. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips. This is a waste of time.

Air stills as the rest of the women swirl away from you when another Baliset, one played with a bow sliding against its strings, joins the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They sing in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin to match the skirts of the others now twirling in a circle around you until the music slows.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool in the center. Soft, slow pattering of the drums begins as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. The women bend a knee where they twirled. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

This is the silliest part. You face a non existent opponent. Bringing your sword forward you drop into a defensive stance. The music rises and now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until you drop the sword. Your arm extends to the partner who does not exist and spin into nothing as the music reaches a crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the abyss until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

One of the girls is quick to retrieve and return the swords to you. In contrast, you’re slow to sheath them. You’re not eager to hear the word you know waits on his tongue. But you can only stall for so long.

You turn and face him. His voice cuts sharply across the silent hall. “Again.”

“You look ridiculous,” your father says under his breath so only you can hear. 

A gown, styled after your mother’s House, hung loosely on your frame, hiding any hint of the woman’s body beneath it. You feel ridiculous in it, but had thought it better than the other options. You should have known there was nothing you could have worn that would please him.

“My apologies, father.”

He scoffs. Nothing you do will ever please him.

It’s why you still cannot understand why this celebration is being held. He saw no honor in you being born, why would he see it in you coming of age? And to invite the likes of the Atreides? Was this all some masochistic need to see the son he should have had?

He says outloud, “Don’t embarrass me.” In your head you hear the word he leaves unspoken. ‘Again.’

The Major Houses arrive hours apart, the lucky few Minor Houses invited padding the time between. First is the Princess Irulan. Beautiful, graceful, kind. She compliments you, embracing you as if you’d been friends for life. And it feels as such. A connection left despite the broken destiny. There would be no marriage, but your father whispers that a friendship could offer nearly as much.

The Atreides come next. The Duke is handsome. His concubine, Lady Jessica, hides behind a veil. A Bene Gesserit indeed. Their son, Paul, is charismatic and not as handsome as his father, but more beautiful. He places a kiss on your hand, complimenting your dress and, as he calls them, your lovely eyes. They fall flat on you, but he seems to preen at your own compliment of his hair with a boyish grin painting his face.

Your father’s mood shifts when they and their people are led away to the castle. “Well done. Who knew you could charm so well.” The praise, as backhanded as it is, prickles your skin. “Let’s hope can you keep it up.”

At last, as the sun sets, the Harkonnens arrive. 

Pale and hairless, they're intimidating in their black attire. The Baron did not come, instead having his nephews take his place. The eldest, Count Glossu Rabban, is a giant of a man. From the stories you’ve heard, he's a sadist but an idiot. In his shadow lies the true danger. 

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. He’s deceptively slight next to his brother. But to be the chosen heir for a House like the Harkonnens there must be a brutal intelligence. Like Paul he takes your offered hand and presses his lips against it. They’re cold, chapped and rough. Unlike Paul he offers a grin that had no boyishness left. Blackened teeth bared, he tugs your arm harshly. You stumble forward into him. The hand he doesn’t hold presses against his chest to catch yourself, the one he does hold twisting out of his grip.

Warm metal presses against your throat. 

Something akin to amusement dances in his eyes as they rove over your. It’s the only sign that he probably doesn’t want to kill you. There’s a measured pause of his gaze, first on the blade then sinking lower, before it flits back to your own. His voice is raspy as he speaks, “It is a pleasure to be here for your coming of age, my lady.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. The blade retreats. His eyes don’t leave yours as he releases you, flips it, and offers you the hilt. “A gift.”

“Thank you,” you say, hoping your voice holds firm, and reach for the dagger. 

A hand flashes from behind you with a plea of, “Allow me, my lady,” from a guard. 

Feyd, tisked, pulling it out of reach. “It is not a gift for you.”

You’re unceremoniously knocked aside when the guard steps between you. “She will be given it after an inspection.”

“An inspection is unnecessary,” you hiss, face warming. It was embarrassing enough he’d managed to catch you and your court so off guard. But to openly suspect him of intending harm, after such a brazen display of weakness, would cement the failure of any good relations between your houses. Your father would never forgive you.

“He poisons his blades,” the guard insists, not quietly enough.

Feyd-Rautha’s laugh is harsh. He turns to the Harkonnens behind him, lifts his arms, and bellows, “He worries I poison the blade!” It humors them. Rabben guffaws as if he’s never heard a funnier joke. When he faces you again his black grin is even wider. He stares down the guard as he slices the blade across his open palm. Blood soils the blade and drips on the stone beneath him. His eyes shift to you again. His tongue juts out. In a grotesque exhibition he licks it. “Death does not wait for you in my hands today.”

“I never suspected it did, Na-Baron,” you agree, stepping around the guard. He moves to stop you, but a harsh glare has him backing down. There’s still a chance to save this. Appease the Harkonnens and quell your father’s resentment you can feel rolling off him in waves behind you. Feyd offers the hilt again and you take it. The blade slices across your own palm without hesitation, your blood joining his on the stone. You extend your hand to him again.

a/n: my first fic! any thoughts would be appreciated 🥰

be my muse

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