#is this considered creating a cult?

[atelababbey]

Have this lil' Lambert I made out of a kneadable eraser :D

Little Personal Update under the cut ⬇️

Y'all, college has been keeping me a bit too busy to post consistently. I still haven't had a chance to port over those monster Hunter photos I planned on posting yet either. I've got some free time soon though, so I'll hopefully be able to successfully port the picture over from my switch 😅

I also may start posting my sketchbook stuff as filler until I have time to mess around with Krita and my new Huion. I have dubbed her Bertha.

I'll still be lurking around consuming content when I have the chance, it just might be a hot minute before I start posting consistently again.

That's all for this small update, have a great day and enjoy your lil' Lambert :3

[ravenintraining]

sometimes i'm normal but then i remember the absolute phenomenon that is the online track record of gerard keay. he's like the fucking ramsay girl to me

father gouges his eyes out. shortly after is found murdered with a section of skin missing.

long police record of breaking and entering, arson, etc

mother found skinned alive in their home.

and icing on the cake: he's gone for like a whole decade when SUDDENLY theres a death record of him dying of """"BRAIN CANCER"""" (tell me the true crime community would believe that) except his body was posthumously mutilated and HE IS ALSO MISSING A GRAFT OF SKIN

can you imagine hearing about that. and then the internet finds pictures of him and he's GOTH! it's up there with Dahmer!

and if youre a REAL nut, you'll even trace the keay killings to the fucking MAGNUS LETTERS, which are all about these 1800s phsychologists who were REALLY into fear and what fear does to the human body not to mention the strange cult-like qualities of some of the things they say in there. and now there's a conspiracy that goes back centuries.

[coulsonlives]

I'm watching this video, and I just saw a really good observation that went:

'People go to (x radical community) to get upset. Every emotion is converted into anger.. because sadness, fear, and despair are paralyzing, but anger is motivating! Whatever someone's problems are, there's always someone they can scapegoat for them, a person feels less helpless when they're pissed off. And while that person is hopping up on reassuring nonsense, they're also topping up on stress. And since they're cut off from the people they used to associate with, which happened because of their radicalization, the only place they can go to release that stress is back to the place that gives this stress to him.

It's a feedback loop

[carbonateddelusion]

I can't make something poetic and beautiful out of my pain, so what's the fucking point?

[ria-starstruck]

put on some more room of sword music while working on the petra roxanne animatic again and kinda started thinking about ros au petra roxanne but realized p quickly that'd never work since they're both kinda selfish people tbh so like . found family kinda hard 2 do

[stackslip]

fujimoto is the absolute king of creating a world where mass death is a regular occurrence and yet every single time it feels singularly devastating. i've seen people say his work is nihilistic, that people die over nothing--i profoundly disagree! again and again, it is made clear that the deaths and horrors in chainsaw man aren't random acts of god, and that the people who die aren't random faces in a crowd but people who are willingly sacrificed in the name of social cohesion and the comfort of a few. the people killed by the gun devil all had names, lives, ages that were inescapable and their deaths are just as bad of a tragedy's as aki's. asa's mom's death might have been forgotten by all, and yet it has a profound impact on asa's own life and outlook. the people convinced to commit suicide by falling had long discussions about their everyday life before they fell off their balcony. it is power and nayuta's deaths--people who mattered little to makima and to barem, who were simply seen as tools for an end--that utterly crush denji and awaken pochita. himeno lost her partners, one by one, and every time she got more and more depressed. these are real people, all of them! their lives mattered! death is a normal occurence in chainsaw man, but the loss of a life is a tragedy every time

most importantly; most of these mass death events, as normalized as they are, are not random or natural. they're the result of devils being used as tools, of the powerful using those that they consider belong to them as payment for their comfort or to further their goals. in chapter one, denji got murdered after a lifetime of abuse as payment for his abuser's eagerness for power. the president of the united states pays for the gun devil to fight makima with one year from each american's life. the japanese government pays for makima's every death with the death of a citizen. public safety regularly sends its employees to cut their throats for a devil to wipe out a building. the german government contracted santa claus and gave her children in return. the chainsaw man cult used its desperate, scared child members to gain an army.

and now, foreign children are given citizenship simply so they can be gunned down coldly and used as blood and payment to use chainsaw man and make scared, rich old men live longer. idk how much more explicit you can be here. look at these kids! do their lives mean nothing? they're drawn in loving detail. they're real people being sent to be butchered!

death in chainsaw man isn't meaningless. far from it! this isn't saying "this world is absurd and has no meaning". this is about exploitation. chainsaw man has always been about exploitation and abuse, at its very core. these people mean something. these are real human beings, being fed to the grinder, again and again. they're being fed to it BY the rich and powerful, by their governments, by their employers, by their abusers. hell, yoru has fed her own children to this grinder, just to get a little more. ownership and greed, this is the core of what's happening. this is murder, not random acts of violence!

[yurunivo]

Synopsis: continuation of this idea (and also subtracting and adding a few of my own) part 2 part 3 part 4

TW: yandere behavior, cult ish behavior, mentions of blood, injuries, torture, SAGAU, inaccurate personalities, bad grammar, english is not my first language, very short

Characters: Natlan cast x Creator!gn!reader (slight yandere Archons too)

You hated this.

All you were doing was playing genshin and then you suddenly got sucked into the game! At first, it was a dream come true, but now you wanted to be out of here as fast as possible. All this suffering just because you looked like someone?

Mondstadt was a no no. The acting grand master found out so quickly, and the knights of favonious were on your tail. Liyue was also a no, the millelith and adepti was also there. Heck, Zhongli came out of retirement just to catch you! Inazuma? Raiden was enough. Fontaine wasn't any better either. You got put on trial, it's only because of plot armour that you managed to survive.

Sumeru was a bit better. The dendro archon found out about your status quickly, due to Irminsul. But, her people were out of her control, so you got hunted down anyway.

The abyss was even worse. Once they sensed that the creator came back, they were ecstatic to kill you. The abyss weren't known for their fondness of the gods after all. Right now, with the amount of times you fought the abyss and the people of teyvat, your entire body was like a piece of paper ready to be blown away.

You were walking to Natlan, as fast as your legs would take you. Your arm was filled with abyssal energy, and you had open wounds all over you. The sand got into your injuries, which really stung. It was hell trying to walk, but the tiny sliver of hope that Natlan would be different would be enough to keep you going. Usually, your wounds healed instantly every time you were injured, but the attacks from the abyss slowed down your healing. You would show your golden blood, but the injuries healed too fast and the people would be too consumed by anger to even notice your golden blood.

How long has it been since the chase started? Like one or two years? You couldn't really tell. Your mind was foggy, and your body was trembling and shivering. Just the thought that you'll eventually heal and get hunted down again, without anyone knowing about what was truly going on was enough to consider dying. You coughed your way through to Natlan, and as the sandy desert came to a halt for the beginning of Natlan, you could only hope that Natlan would be different.

It wasn't long till you passed out, but you got a tiny glimpse of a Saurian watching you...

Your head hurt, everything did. You woke up to your injuries healed, as you thought what happened. Your body probably managed to heal itself, so that was already explained. What was not so good and definitely needed explaining was that the environment you were in was certainly different, even if you remember not seeing much.

You saw a little girl coming towards you. She looked familiar, but you began to panic. Were you really going to get hunted this time too? If that was the case then dying seemed like a better option than anything.

"Are you okay?! You really looked like you weren't going to survive!" Huh? Why wasn't she attacking you? Was this really a dream? Thank god! You felt like crying at the kindness you were shown after so long!

The girl introduced herself as Kachina. You thought that's why she looked familiar. Perhaps you were not thinking straight from the suffering that you were inflicted on. You introduced yourself too, but you used (fake name) instead of who you really were.

"What happened? You looked so pale and your entire arm was covered with abyssal energy! Did you get attacked on your way here?" She asked so innocently, which made you realize that you had to create a fake story, and fast. You contemplated for a moment, creating a fake story within seconds was hard, but the sheer thought of being hunted again left a bad image on your brain.

"Ah well, I was a runaway from my home in Sumeru. I encountered some enemies and that's what happened to my arm. Is there any place in Natlan where I can get a job and a cheap house and a job? I don't have any Mora on me," you lied through your teeth. You had Mora from the treasure chests you saw in the wild, but it would be weird that a runaway who left everything behind has Mora on them. You felt bad lying to Kachina. But, for your survival, everything was necessary. She seemed to believe you, so you internally sighed in exhaustion. Children were so naive.

She felt so sorry for you, even though your story was fake. She took a cherry flavoured candy from her large bag and gave it to you. Finally, tears started to slip through your eyes. It's truly been so long since you had seen kindness being shown to you. A tear fell from your eyes as you cried. Kachina began to panic, but realized that it was best to stay quiet. You sobbed and sniffled as Kachina continued to comfort you. You again passed out from crying so much.

"There is a bar nearby that you can work in! And for the place to stay in, they have a space above the bar where you can be at!" You walked together as she continued talking. She was nice to talk too, and didn't really pressure you and ask any more questions which might have made you uncomfortable. You changed your clothes too, wearing gloves to hide your injuries from the abyss. You looked at the bar she led you to and thanked her profusely. She was so kind, certainly a gift from the gods!

You got the job and a place to stay. All you had was cleaning duty, and, compared to the injuries and (sometimes) vomiting you had to deal with by yourself, this was a piece of cake. You just cleaned the counters, the glasses and the floor and also throw out the rowdy people in the bar. The room you live in now was cramped, but it was at least better than having to sleep in defeated hillichurl camps with no protection whatsoever.

After getting a stable income, you started giving Kachina a lot of gifts. After all, she helped you so much when you literally had no will to live. She always tried declining them, but you always insisted, saying that she deserved it. She really did though, you needed to pay back her kindness from the beginning anyway. You also started visiting her much often, exploring or just talking with her.

You do meet her friends eventually enough.

"(Fake name)! These are my friends, Kinich and Mualani! I hope you get along with them well!" You were shaking, what if they weren't as kind as Kachina? What if they find out? What if, what if-

But, they were much more easy going than what you expected. Mualani was very cheerful, and Kinich was also very kind! Something was weird though. Ajaw was much quieter than usual. Sure, he still had those narcissistic comments, but it was like he toned down on them a bit. That was very confusing, but if the others didn't notice then you didn't need to bother.

You sometimes visit Mualani in the hot springs, just keeping your arms out of the water for the abyssal energy not to spread. You also sometimes visit Kinich in the Scions of Canopy. He does his extreme sports like bungee jumping, you just watch. Again, it was really unnerving on how much quieter Ajaw was..

But, this happiness wouldn't really last for long.

You were cleaning in your bar, secretly listening into some drama in one of the tables. A woman came into the bar. She was clad in a dark cloak, so you couldn't really see her. But, upon taking a closer look, you realized it was... Mavuika?!

You were sweating like your life depended on it. How did she even figure out that you worked here? Did you have to move again, when you we're just getting settled? Was this perfectly calm life just going to stay for false hope? Seriously, you were scared. You went to go clean another station instead of your own, but not until she managed to give you a message.

"I've been meaning to meet you for a long time, how about we just talk outside later?" She smiled warmly, but you just felt a chill down your spine. You were terrified. But, considering how powerless you were, you agreed. You never know what she might do after all.

Your shift was done, and you gulped as you walked outside. Mavuika was there, waiting for you. She waved, and you nervously waved back. You looked down at yourself. Your hands were trembling, and your entire body was shaking. The sweaty feeling in your palms never went away, it was uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as having to talk with an archon.

"I already know that you are our creator, please rest assured," huh?! She already knew? But how? You never revealed your identity,what was going on?! But, all you did was nod your head, still nervous on what she could do.

"I've heard of the chase that you have been through in other nations, but please be assured that I will not do the same. I will protect you from the other nations, and you can continue living your life as it is. I will do my best to help you lead a normal life," you were shocked. Absolutely shocked. Since when did an archon treat you so nicely?

Venti chased you with his bow and arrow, and you got nearly got sucked into the black hole that he had in his burst. Moral was leading the adepti and Liyue Qixing to find and hunt you. You just completely avoided Inazuma. It would be terrible that the Shogun would find you, since she's not as "nice" as Ei. You thought you could start a new in Fontaine, but you got put on to a death sentence by the Oratrice. At least Neuvillette had some kind of pity for you. The eremites, grand bazaar and the scholars of Sumeru were also in the hunt. You started reflecting on how much suffering you had to deal with, as tears welled up in your eyes again. You went to hug Mavuika and just sobbed in her shoulder. She looked surprised but didn't question it as you cried. She patted your back over and over again, letting you cry all your frustrations out.

Of course, it's not like people won't find out eventually.

Kinich was the first to find out. He offered you to bungee jump with him, and you stupidly agreed.

"It won't be that bad, I promise," oh how you shouldn't have believed him. You were screaming the entire time that he held you. Ajaw was fuming at Kinich, which, again, was very weird. He never cared for anyone before, so what was going on?

Though he was holding onto you, it didn't really stop you from getting injuries by nature itself. You had a cut on your cheek, as blood began to seep out. You landed, and it was only when Kinich was recovering from the adrenaline rush, did he notice your cut. He was speechless. He was just staring as you realized the cut you had on your skin. Your eyes widened at the revelation.

"W-wait, I-I can explain!" You didn't even know what you were panicking for. Wasn't it a good thing that they found out? If so, then why did it feel like your heart has been shattered into a million pieces when he found out? Ajaw then screamed at Kinich, like he was reprimanding him.

"You filthy servant! How can you not realize that the creator was with us all this time?! Honestly, what went on in your head when you took them in such a dangerous activity?!" He spewed out to Kinich, while the boy was still in a state of shock. Finally, as if he got to his senses, he muttered out:

"You're the creator?..." He mumbled under his breath. He looked extremely shocked, and also extremely guilty. He ran out of words so quickly. This is how he treated his creator the whole time?

He was about to apologize, but you interrupted him. There was no way that you would let him even say sorry, not when you want to live your life as a human instead of some divine being.

"If you want a more detailed explanation for this... predicament, meet me at the outskirts of the Children of echoes, you'll get all your answers there."

Mualani was second to find out. You two were walking through her tribe, talking about getting swimsuits for the hot spring. The area was very humid, and the floor was very slippery.

Suddenly, you tripped on your steps and fell on the ground. A scratch was on your knee, as you realised that the blood would show. You tried to hide the injury from Mualani, but she took a glance anyway. Her expression was very surprised, but all she did was wrap a piece of cloth around your knee. It really stung, but you really hoped she wouldn't ask any questions about it.

She took you to a secluded area with no people. Just you and her. She was staring for a long time, and you gulped in nervousness. You were enjoying your life without being chased or worshipped, why did this peace have to end now?!

"Well, (fake name), actually it might not even be your real name.. But anyway, I know it might make you uncomfortable, but please explained what happened a bit ago," she asked and all you did was mumble an incoherent sentence with a bitter tone.

Kachina was last to find out. You were exploring some ruins that you found along with her.

It was just supposed to be a little expedition outside in Natlan, but you got way too many cuts from the rocks inside. It didn't really hurt, so you brushed it off, forgetting that Kachina didn't know you were the creator. When she lit up a fire to check in on everything, that's when you realised this. You tried to stay out of the light as much as possible, but she found out very easily.

"What's wrong (fake name)? Why aren't you coming near the fire?" She innocently asked. You cursed at your self for not realizing that she didn't know sooner. But before you could respond, she dragged your wrist into the light in an attempt to see if you had any injuries or not. When she saw the golden blood however, she turned quiet.

"Y-you're the creator?" She asked, almost terrified. Oh what had she done! Treating the holy creator so casually like a friend! You only looked down at her, feeling guilty at putting so much terror to her mind. You patted her head, unsure of how to respond to her.

"Yes I am, but I am your friend still, am I not?"

Spies can exist anywhere and everywhere. After all, it's such a common phrase in Liyue, the walls have ears.

However, the spies that were there to find you and excecute you, were certainly incompetent in their job, letting their emotions get in the way of things.

Seeing the golden blood for their own eyes, the blood of the "imposter" that they were hunting down, was not really easy to swallow. Instead of kidnapping you, they just took a picture with their kamera and ran like the wind, doing anything to inform their leader.

When the Archons found out, they were nothing less than shocked. They have been hunting their creator the entire time? No, this couldn't be! They trembles at the photo in hand, realising how bad they fucked up. Now they were more determined to find you than ever, not to kill you, but to welcome you into their arms. They will get you back, no matter what it takes. Oh and the actual imposter? They're as dead as they can be. Nothing matters except you now.

Nothing else matters.

This is so short Lmaooo hope you like it tho!

[kasagia]

Right hand

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You were his right-hand (wo)man after he saw you in combat during your training on the Bene Gesserit. He freed you from them and turned you from a Bene Gesserit into a faithful soldier who took care of all his dirty business. Getting rid of the bodies of the people he killed, organising opponents for him to fight, poor people on whom he could vent his anger and desire for bloodshed, or even concubines. You were his eyes and ears in the baron's court. You reported everything to him, being more effective than any Bene Gesserit. But he wants more... much more. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; bathing together; dagger play; breeding kink? I guess; a lot things happening; my first time for Feyd so I'm a little nervous😅; enjoy!; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

It wasn't your choice to undergo Bene Gesserit training. Your mother abandoned you when you were a little baby and took you to these terrible women, leaving you to their mercy.

You hated them. Their entire organisation, which included planned breeding, aimed at creating the Kwisatz Haderach. To you, these women were a sick cult that you were reluctant to be a part of. You trembled with fear, thinking of the day when they would send you to extend the genetic line of a nobel family by lending your womb or to ensure that their plans succeeded.

However, you realised that you had little say in the matter. The Bene Gesserit would find you anywhere if you tried to run and hide. You were doomed to follow the orders of your crazy old reverend mother and wait in fear for the day when you could prove your usefulness.

But one day, you crossed paths with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And for a very long time, you considered it a real gift from fate. The first happy turn of events in your tragic life.

He was on a diplomatic mission. He was being shown around by the princess of your planet, and they happened to be attending the training of the Bene Gesserit sisters. You immediately caught his attention. Your movements were smoother, full of the passion of a true warrior. You charmed him so much that, at first, he thought you had put a spell on him. After seeing your potential and your obvious dislike for your sisters, he took you with him to Giedi Prime.

He faked your death so the Bene Gesserit sisters wouldn't come looking for you. He made you his right hand, his most trusted soldier. It was only after years of service under the Na-Baron that you realised that you had entered a much worse hell than any plans the Bene Gesserit had for you.

Feyd Rautha was supposed to be your personal devil. But first, you saw him as your saviour.

An animalistic, bloodthirsty scream resounds throughout the na-baron's private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow she received from the furious man. You enter the room just as Feyd pierces him with his sword, causing drops of blood to land on your face.

You wipe them away, undeterred by the na-baron's brutality. Years of service had accustomed you to all the acts of cruelty he was capable of. At least this time, the dead man's entrails didn't spill around him. You hated calling his harpies to the feast. Despite so many years spent at the side of the baron's favourite nephew, you never got used to his concubines. They made you feel strangely uneasy.

"My lord, na-baron." You say, announcing your presence. Feyd breathes heavily and shifts his mad, furious gaze to you, not noticing your entrance until you speak.

You walk past the body, avoiding the pool of blood, and hand him a towel. He takes it from you without a word, wiping the sweat and blood from his head, chest, and back. You ignore his exposed muscles and kneel next to the man on whom he took out his anger, preparing to carry him out of the room before the next opponent/toy shows up.

"You were right. That old fool entrusted Arrakis to my brother. He will embarrass our family in one day. Ha! Even half is enough for him! This wretch doesn't know how to manage a small province, let alone an entire planet with fremen ready to attack at any corner." He says, rubbing himself furiously. He throws a towel into the corner of the room and walks to the table to pour himself something to drink.

"He gives him a chance to prove himself. When he wastes it, you will get it and prove to the baron and the lords that you are rightfully entitled to the title of baron." You say, securing the body so the guards at the door can carry it out.

"Every fool knows that. It's obvious that I'm a better choice than this scoundrel, who will sell the secrets of our family and swear allegiance to anyone who threatens his life. Baron throws a party in his honor. To the success of his mission. He's just doing it to piss me off. He doesn't give a damn about Rabban or whether he succeeds. This is just another of his tests on me. That's why you're coming with me. I've already sent for a dress for you." You look up at him with your surprised gaze. You're even more shocked when he reaches out his hand to help you up—something you didn't expect from him in his white, burning rage state.

"A dress?" You ask, taking his hand. You hold your breath, keeping yourself from gasping, as he lifts you off the floor with one strong pull. Unprepared, you bump completely onto his chest, not being able to keep your balance.

You freeze at the feeling of his muscled body close to yours. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline he felt while killing this poor man. You tense up, seeing his icy-blue eyes already staring at yours. He starts giggling darkly as he presses you tighter against him so you can feel every muscle of his.

"Is there a problem? Would you prefer to come naked? I wouldn't mind, but…”

"I'm simply surprised that you want me there officially. I usually sneak there. I watch from the shadows. Well, you know." You interrupt me before he can insinuate anything, and with his silent permission, you move a decent distance away from him, leaving his arms.

You always had to be careful when making moves like this. You saw how he punished for minor offences, just for breathing. And you didn't run away from the Bene Gesserit with him to lose your life because of one of his… impulses. Although he has never put you in any serious danger, which was strangly amazing, since all of the servants who worked for him (and are still alive) have experienced his wrath on their bodies at least once.

"I know. But this time, I need you by my side. Not in hiding. My birthday is coming up—the most important of them all. I want to know what my uncle will come up with. Maybe you can find out something from the Lords. Besides, why wouldn't I want to have such beauty on my arm?"

"You want a woman by your side so you can humiliate your brother before he leaves? Perpetuate in him a sense of belief that you are superior, even if you don't have power over Arrakis right now?"

You see his hands tighten on his blades. You purse your lips, realising you were too quick to question his intentions. Basic mistake. You shouldn't have tested the waters when you knew Feyd was already on the end of his patience.

He takes a step towards you, entering your personal space. You swallow and lift your head to meet his gaze. This wasn't the first time he had intimidated you, tested you, carefully gauged your reaction, and waited until he finally saw the fear in your eyes. But you never gave him that satisfaction. If the Bene Gesserit taught you anything, it was that fear was weakness. A weakness you could tame... at least enough not to show it to anyone else.

So you endure his piercing, burning gaze with indifference. You stay like that even after a small smirk starts to appear on his face. You wonder how many people before you saw that smirk and stared into those night-black eyes on Giedi Prime as they passed from this world.

"That pink little tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, my little witch." He purrs, his tone low and dangerous. He reaches up to your face with his free hand and gently runs his hand through your hair, caressing your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb. "Possible. I'm a na-baron... don't I deserve the best?" He looks defiantly at you, throwing you the proverbial gauntlet. He's waiting for you to stumble. For open defiance of his order.

You don't understand why, but he's been acting like this more and more lately. He made ambiguous comments, carefully watching your reaction. It was something new—a change in his behaviour that you hadn't figured out the reason for yet. But you had too much on your mind to think about it any longer.

"I can prepare you a beautiful concubine perfect for Giedi Prime standards." You suggest at which he shakes his head, laughing hoarsely. He turns his back to you and pours himself another glass of water.

"It's not necessary. I want you. Go and get ready. I'll join you in two hours when I'm done here." He says just as the door opens to reveal the soldiers you called for to take the body away and who have brought him a new drugged opponent. Feyd licks his lips, flips the blade up, and catches it, making a little show before lunging at his toy.

"As you wish, my na-baron." You say before leaving him to get ready for the party. Another warrior's scream echoes off the walls of the chamber as Feyd unleashes his anger on him.

You scan the room carefully, standing with your glass against the wall in a more crowded part of the room. You try your best to blend in with the crowd, but with your hair down, it's not that easy. Even if you try to cover your hair, you can feel people's curious gazes on you. But the worst ones are the burning gazes of the lords on you, some of them too lustful to be able to feel comfortable.

If you could, you would hide in the shadows, as usual, and observe them without being the centre of attention. You felt like a monkey in a circus or an exotic animal at an exhibition. The cold hand on your shoulder reminds you why you can't do this. You turn around to once again meet the na-baron's intense gaze today.

"You look good." He says as his eyes carefully scan the black latex dress with cutouts on the sides that reach down to your hipbones. "But I don't remember having that metal corset disguised as armour and that ridiculous chain veil sent to you along with the dress."

"I almost mistook this rag for a nightgown. I had to wear something on it. They think I'm your whore anyway; we don't have to prove it to them." You respond to his taunt and turn towards him. He is wearing black, formal armour, which is perfect as an official outfit.

"Do you find it scandalous to be my whore, little witch? Maybe even disgusting?" You meet his gaze to roll your eyes at him, at which he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don't like this closeness, but there's nothing you can do to push his hand off of you. You are in public. Such a gesture towards him would be equivalent to a death sentence.

"I see nothing... honourable or good in being anyone's whore, my na-baron." You say, gently moving away from him so as not to lean on him as much.

"Have you seen anything noteworthy?" He asks, unfazed by your trying to move away from him. He pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter and making your back rest against his chest. His fingertips brush against the exposed skin, caressing your hipbone.

You frown, turning your head to look at him. He's never been so... clingy before. He always respected your personal space and never touched you. You blame it on his desire to tease his brother, who is staring at you intently from across the room, and you shift your gaze to the people present at the party.

"Several lords congratulated your brother. However, there are rumours and beliefs that he will not be up to the task. Some also believe that you will slit his throat before his ship leaves for Arrakis."

"This idea crossed my mind. If you hadn't brought this information to me earlier, you would probably have had to deal with making the public believe in his… tragic and sudden death from natural causes."

"Natural causes; I wish I could see that." You scoff, finishing your drink. You turn around, leaving his arms, and set your glass down on the table. When you turn to him again, he holds out his hand for you to take.

"You'll see if you don't entertain me. I'm bored, and looking at this smug idiot isn't helping my patience or my ability to restrain myself. Dance with me, my little witch."

"You're interrupting my work." You complain, taking his hand. He leads you to the dance floor and spins you around, pulling you tight against his chest. He holds you close to him, perfectly placing his steps and moving to the beat of the music. He is as fluid in dancing as he is in fighting. Flawless as always.

"I'm your work. You are my right hand; you meet all my needs. I don't think I need to remind you of that, do I?" He asks in challenge, taking your chin between his two fingers as he looks at you carefully. You only smile at him in a sweet, artificial way. He laughs, fully aware of how fake this act is, and drops your chin.

Over the years, you discovered that he liked it when you teased him and responded to his taunts with your own. Of course, only when no one could hear it, and not very often. He had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford for anyone to see his right-hand (wo)man mocking him. Unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable the way your eyes lit up whenever you did something mischievous.

"Of course not, my na-baron."

"Good." He nods at your words. He takes his eyes off you for a moment and focuses on something behind your shoulder. He leans down, his cheek brushing against yours. You shiver at the sudden closeness, his scent becoming more distinct as you inhale it wholeheartedly. It's captivating. Sweet. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Just like him. "Do you have your daggers?" His hot whisper reaches your ear. He's so close, you can almost feel his full lips brush against your earlobe.

"Yes, why?" You ask, perfectly masking the tremble in your voice. But you doubt whether you can hide from him how your heartbeat speeds up. You blame it on the adrenaline rush. Not fear caused by his proximity.

"It seems to me that you will soon have to prove to these imbeciles once again why I chose you to be my right-hand man." He explains as the song ends.

You feel him reluctantly release you from his embrace and take a step away from you. You turn around and see his brother walking towards you, his right hand following him, giving you a mischievous look and a lecherous, mocking smile when he sees your outfit. You straighten up, lifting your head proudly at the man in a similar position to yours. The difference between you was that you served the stronger Harkonnen. It would give you an inviolably higher position if, like them, you had a penis between your legs.

"Brother. You finally brought your pet to play with us." Rabban says, nodding to his brother. You feel a wave of disgust as his gaze lingers on you longer.

Feyd tenses, furious, as his brother's eyes are all on you. You wouldn't have noticed if his hand hadn't been on your hip bone a moment later, hiding some of your exposed skin from his brother's eyes. You wonder what his problem might be. After all, he chose this dress for you by himself.

"Be careful. She doesn't have a muzzle. I would prefer that no harm come to you before you go to Arrakis. She's got some pretty... sharp teeth." He says it condescendingly, pulling you closer to him. In a perfect world, you'd kick them both in the groin. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury. You can only imagine putting these two pseudo-alpha males in their place. But how sweet these dreams are...

"What about a small competition? My man against yours? Let's see what this mysterious beauty that you keep hidden can really do." Rabban's right-hand man gives you a cocky, confident look. He plays with the dagger in his hand, making a poor show that was intended to intimidate you. You roll your eyes behind your metal chain veil and shift your gaze to Feyd. You are only subject to his orders. Not some weak, pathetic creatures.

"This party is already dead. Do you want to kill also YOUR pet?" Feyd mocks him, and you almost break your unflappable, emotionless attitude, barely holding back your laughter. Na-baron sees this and smiles to himself, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hipbone.

"Are you afraid that she won't heat your bed anymore?" Feyd narrows his eyes at him. You feel his fingertips dig painfully into your hip as he tries to keep himself from lunging at his brother with the blade. You know full well that the eyes of the lords, the baron, and most of the people at the party are turned towards you.

"I have no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this little skirmish. She will just sweat unnecessarily. And I would rather have her in full strength tonight." He says it in a mocking tone, shifting his gaze towards you. He licks his lips and tightens his grip to make his lewd intentions towards you clear to the two men.

Despite his famous reputation, he never touched you. Giedi Prime society might have thought otherwise, but in the years you had served as his right-hand man, he had never once taken you to bed or had you entertain him at night. You appreciated it immensely, which is why you accepted such behaviour from him without batting an eyelid whenever you were in public. It was all a game to maintain the reputation he had built over the years. Or so you thought.

"Feyd, boy, release your pet. Let her entertain us." The baron's words interrupt any skirmish that might have developed between the brothers.

It was not uncommon at Giedi Prime parties for soldiers to fight against each other to entertain the crowd. You just didn't think that you would have to fight someone during your first official arrival at the party. Although you should have anticipated such an unexpected turn of events. The baron and Rabban would not miss the opportunity to find out how much you were really worth and why Feyd, out of all the talented soldiers, chose the Bene Gesserit as his right-hand man.

You send a quick glance at Feyd. He gives you a small nod, so you bow to the baron and prepare to fight. The crowd around you parts to form a circle. You feel people's excitement as you flip the metal chains from your face to your hair, revealing more of your face. You wrap the shawl around your hair, tying it tighter and making sure it won't get in the way of your fight.

You look at your opponent, who is also preparing, trying to spot any of his weak points before the fight even begins. Rabban says something in his ear, which causes the manly smile to grow. Feyd stands in front of you, blocking your view of them. You look into his steel blue eyes as he leans towards you.

"Don't hold back." He whispers in your ear, handing you his blade. "And finish it quickly. We have other things to do."

You nod at him. He walks away from you, sending a mocking smirk at your opponent. He spreads his arms, taking a few steps back, as if inviting him to try his hand at you. You feel the burning gaze of his eyes on your back as you position yourself in front of the man.

"Don't worry, witch. If I win, I won't kill you. It's a shame to waste such a pretty face. I wonder if you're as good as the rumours say. Your pussy must be good to keep the na-baron entertained for so long." He says, waiting for you to activate your shield. But you don't do this. You want to completely humiliate him and give everyone in the room a clear message about your power and that you didn't secure your place just by having a pretty face. The crowd cheers, but you think you can hear Feyd growl furiously amidst the shouts of approval.

"I doubt you'll have the chance to find out." You say, and without waiting for his next words, you attack.

After the first few attacks, you figure out his tactics. He is physically strong, it's true, but that's his only advantage. It attacks you in a learned way, repeating its patterns. You read him quickly and position yourself to use his strength and mass against him. You could have walked up to him a long time ago and slit his throat, but you know it would be much better if you had some fun with him. You will show that you have complete control over the course of this fight.

You dodge the man's punches, and after a few minutes, you quickly get bored when you once again manage to kick him and send him to his knees. You take advantage of the moment he gets up from the floor to glance at your na-baron. Feyd doesn't look happy with your introduction. Of course, you see his interested look and how he appreciates your skills, but he doesn't look at you like he usually does. He doesn't wait with bated breath for your next move, like the crowd around you does. You can tell from his face that he wants you to finish this as soon as possible. You frown, surprised that he of all people doesn't enjoy watching the fight. You wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

Your moment of inattention is, of course, immediately exploited by your opponent. You manage to fend off the man's blade, but not his kick, which sends you landing on your butt on the floor. You feel rage more than pain; you only see red when you hear the cocky laugh of the man you are fighting with. You're so focused on driving the blade into his body that you don't notice Feyd's angry look, the murder in his eyes, and the desire to rip your opponent apart with his own hands as you fall to the floor. And you certainly don't see the trembling of his hand, as he instinctively wanted to grab you and pull you safely behind him.

You strike once, quickly driving the blade into the man's stomach and leaving it there. You push him to his knees, push away the hand that holds the sword, and reach for the dagger hidden in the sleeve of your dress. You strike a second time, piercing his shoulder. You stick the second dagger into his hand and knock the weapon out of his hand, taking it from him. You grab the man's throat in a tight grip and tilt his head back. You lean over him, a mocking smirk on your face as he struggles to breathe.

"I didn't even take off my high heels." You mocked him as you slit his throat.

You smile victoriously as you decapitate him. His head rolls at your feet, blood splattering your dress and face as you breathe heavily. You sigh, feeling your heart pound in your chest, as you bow to the crowd surrounding you as they shout and applaud you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban's sour, angry expression. You kick the head of his right hand towards him and give him a small smirk. You stand upright as you meet the eyes of your na-baron.

And then you saw it. Hunger in his eyes. Pure lust and desire, as his pupils were wide and solemnly focused on you.

You knew that gaze. He only looked like that at things he really wanted. Only his favourite concubines got THAT look from him or a beautiful, precisely made weapon that fit perfectly in his hands. Usually he had that look in his eyes right after the great battle he won. He would lock himself with his concubines and then spend long hours in his chambers, giving himself completely to his primal instincts.

You shiver as he walks towards you, ignoring anything else in the room. He grabs you tightly by the throat, and, to the delight of the drunken crowd who are screaming madly with excitement after the show you had made, he kisses you.

It is hard, hungry, and passionate. His hand completely removes the metal chains and shawl that were covering your head, and he pulls you to him as close as possible. His grip on your hair and throat is tight as he demands that your mouth be opened for him by biting your lower lip. You moan involuntarily, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth, as he is exploring new territory with a zeal you've never seen from him.

He pulls away from you when you're completely out of breath. Your vision is blurry, your heart is pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and you can only stare at him stupidly and blankly while trying to understand what just happened.

Your eyes widen as he licks his lips, lust still burning in his eyes as he takes in your panting form and swollen, red lips. A trickle of blood drips from your mouth after he bit into it a few minutes ago. As you taste your blood on your tongue, you realise the terrifying truth.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen desired you.

Feyd strokes your neck, which is still in his tight grip. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, to your collarbones, to the valley of your breasts, and to your hips, which were starting to bruise from how tightly he held them in the moments before your fight. Suddenly, everything starts to fall into place for you. His strange, unusual behaviour, the flirtatious comments, the long stares, and his more frequent attempts to hold you close to him and touch your exposed skin are starting to make sense.

You were screwed.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

You've been avoiding him since that night. More than any Reverend Mother or Bene Gesserit. Which was a very difficult task, considering how many things you had to do as his right hand.

But, luckily, you managed to avoid being alone with him. Of course, it couldn't last long. You knew him very well, and you knew that eventually he would try something and come for you. But you tried to deceive yourself by living the lie that his desire would pass and his concubines would effectively take care of him.

If he noticed your attempts to stay away from him, he never mentioned it. Of course, he chased after you when he saw you walking alone down the hall, but you never gave him a chance to catch up with you. He may have grown up here, but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. And all the nooks and crannies you could hide in from him.

So you actually managed not to get close to him for a very long time. Until it was time to train a unit of soldiers directly subordinate to him.

"Y/N!!!" You're sure all of Giedi Prime could have heard his scream. You sigh, calming down as you continue your walk to the arena. You step out into the black sun, carefully watching the men training. You walk up to him and bow to him.

"My lord na-baron." You say it politely, unfazed by the fact that he's practically seething with rage. You were more used to dealing with him like this than when he was horny... or worse, kind. You would turn on your shield if you knew it wouldn't make him fall over the edge and start murdering everyone he could.

"Take your blade. None of these piles of useless muscles know basic defensive moves. Look, you all! You have to learn this by the end of the day, or next time you will enter this arena as my opponent!" He walks over to one of them, probably to either stab him or adjust his position, leaving you to get ready. You tie your hair up so it doesn't bother you during a fight and choose your blade.

You gasp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed. You turn around quickly, trying to keep your balance as you face the na-baron. You move your hand to activate your shield, but his voice stops you:

"Don't. I have to show them how to do it. No shield." You know he's lying, and that's not why he doesn't want you to turn on your shield, but you don't say anything. You just nod and prepare to get into a defensive position.

He attacks you quickly. Very quickly. You've trained with him before, and you have to admit, he's never been this… brutal with you.

You go through different positions with him until you finally stop following the textbook fighting patterns and start fighting seriously. You keep up with his movements for a long time, blocking his blade with yours and dodging attacks that you have no physical ability to block, but he keeps pressing against you, not letting you rest or trying to return the favour with one of your attacks.

You gasp in surprise when he trips you, sending you to the ground. You block his swing at you with your blade and kneel in the sand, trying to get up, but he's pressing too hard against you with his sword for you to move. You use all your strength to push him away from you. Feyd growls, throwing his sword aside, and simply lunges at you. You're too shocked to do anything as he snatches the blade from your hand and sits on top of you.

You fight him, sending both of you rolling in the sand. Eventually, he gets impatient and wraps his hand around your throat. You take a hoarse breath as he blocks your airway. You grab his hand around your neck and try to pull it away. You dig your nails into his palm, but he remains unmoved, pinning you to the sand.

He leans closer to you, and you take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his neck. He laughs, showing you his black teeth as he practically lays on top of you. His erection presses hard against your thigh as he grinds against you, grunting as he too begins to feel the need for air... and something more. You see black spots in front of your eyes, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.

You let go of his neck completely, your hand falling next to your head, and you desperately try to use the remaining air to try and use your Bene Gesserit voice on him. But before you try to say anything, he loosens his grip so you can breathe, but his fingers are still lightly holding your neck.

Too busy breathing, you don't notice how he tilts his face towards you. Only when you feel his tongue on your neck do you realise how close he is to you. You freeze when he runs his tongue from your neck, from jaw to cheek, to taste your tears. You hear him moan softly. To confirm that your brain, stunned by lack of oxygen, didn't make it all up on its own, he rubs against you, and his hardness in his pants is clearly felt by you.

You just fucking hope he doesn't fuck you in front of those soldiers.

You meet his black eyes with yours. You shiver as he leans in, his bare chest pressed completely against you as he whispers into your ear.

"Damn you, witch... if you taste as sweet as your tears..." He growls. You feel dizzy, and you're not sure if it's because of the heat of the moment, the fact that he cut you off from oxygen for a while, or because you're overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth that radiates from the two of you.

You thank whoever is above you as he finally pulls away from you and stands up. He gives you his hand and helps you stand on your two feet. The soldiers obediently look at the ground, not daring to face the na-baron's gaze. You swallow hard, pulling your hand from his grasp.

Feyd barks orders at them, herding them back to training. You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops paying attention to you. You use your shawl to wipe his saliva and your sweat from your neck. You take your blade and are about to leave the arena to do the rest of your duties. But a tight grip on your wrist stops you. You tense up and turn around to face him again.

"Y/N." He murmurs, watching you carefully. You're sure that bruises are starting to appear on your neck from his tight squeeze. "Come to my chambers tonight." A cold shiver runs through you, but all you can do is nod and watch his retreating figure as he leaves to continue the training.

You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant by that... invitation. Otherwise, this could be your last night on Giedi Prime or the last night of your life. You're not sure yet.

For the first time, you feel fear as you walk to his chambers. He had called for you at such times before, but it never occurred to you that he wanted to do with you something else than discuss with you matters that were related to the Giedi Prime Court, the baron's plans, or other political matters and plots.

You shudder, wondering what might be waiting behind that door. You saw the condition in which some of his concubines left him. You didn't want to become one of them; you didn't want to be reduced to being his lover. It was fine as it was. You felt very good as his shadow, ears, and eyes. You liked conspiring together with him, making plans, and that hrill each time you managed to take down the enemies that were standing in your way. He was supposed to be your savior, not your persecutor. Were you that naive from the beginning, or has everything started going to shit recently?

The guards let you through without saying a word. With your heart pounding, you enter his chambers.

He's sitting on the bed. His harpies finish taking off his clothes, and at first you want to back away, but as soon as his gaze meets yours, you freeze. Feyd snaps at one of them. She hands him a glass of his wine while the others look at you furiously.

"Leave." He tells them, never taking his eyes off you. The women look at each other, not wanting to leave him, especially leave him alone with you. You guess that if it weren't for Feyd's presence, they would have attacked you long ago, trying to eat you before their master got a chance to touch you. Disgust arouses in you as you think that you may be soon reduced to their role and turned into one of them. "I said something." He growls at them, shifting his gaze from you to give them an angry glare.

The harpies are going out obediently, but they are not wasting an opportunity to hiss at you as they pass you to get to the exit. You hear one of them scream in pain as Feyd suddenly throws a knife at them right before they close the door behind them.

You were more used to his brutal reflexes than to his tender gestures. You actually preferred him being aggressive more. At least you could have predicted his movement. That's why you didn't even blink when he threw a blade at his pets.

"You wanted to see me." You start when you are alone. If you could impress him with anything other than your fighting skills and the ability to obtain various information by staying in the shadows, it would be that you never showed fear or insecurity. At least not to those who don't know you. Almost no one could read you. Almost.

However, Feyd saw that you were behaving differently. But he was tired of controlling himself around you. He couldn't do it anymore after tasting your lips, tasting your skin mixed with tears, and feeling your curves press against him. He wanted more. Much more than he ever got from you. And he was going to take it, whether you wanted it or not. He won't go crazy with lust for you... or at least not with as much longing for you each night as he used to.

"I did..." He stands up, and you're grateful he's at least wearing underwear as he walks over to his bar and pours a second glass of wine. He hands it to you and taps it with his own. He takes a few sips and looks at you. After a while, he sits down on his bed again and swirls his glass, playing with the remains of the wine. "Baron wants me to find a wife." He announces calmly, staring at you intently as he finishes his wine with one big sip.

You almost choke on your drink. You place your glass on the table and meet the careful gaze of his cold, blue eyes. You feel yourself starting to get hot with nerves.

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, still reeling from the shock of this sudden information.

"He wants me to find a broodmare who will bear my heirs since I am getting close to the appropriate age." He repeats, standing up gracefully. He approaches you, his steps slow and measured, as if he were approaching his prey in an arena. And for a moment, that's exactly how you feel. But you show no fear or any other emotion as he stops a few inches in front of you. You straighten up, your muscles tensing as you think about any answer.

"I… I can make the necessary preparations and check which high families…"

"Strip." He orders you. His tone is hoarse, leaving no room for any objection. He talks just as if he were asking you to pass him the dagger rather than to stand naked in front of him. As if it was an order he carried out every day and something you should be used to following.

"What?" You ask stupidly, unable to process what he said to you in your head.

"Have you gone deaf? Undress. Take your clothes off." He repeats mockingly. He crosses his arms, takes a few steps back, and leans against the wooden post of his bed as he watches you carefully, waiting for you to either obey his order or openly disobey him, giving him the opportunity to punish you... as if he even needed a reason to do so.

"My na-baron, I..."

"Exactly, Y/N. I am your na-baron. So follow my order. Now. I'm not in the mood for our games. You think I haven't noticed you've been playing hide-and-seek lately? I have given much worse punishments for such disobedience and attempts at self-indulgence. Take your clothes off, or I'll rip them from you."

For a moment, there is a deathly silence in his chambers. Only your breathing can be heard as you try to find any way out of this situation. But you can't think of anything. Your mind is empty, your hands are shaking a little, and all you can do is look at him, silently begging him to change his mind. A frown of impatience appears on his forehead, and you know you have to do something before he gets irritated and cuts you with one of his blades.

You sigh softly as you reach for the laces of your shirt. You take your time, slowly untying your bindings. Feyd devours every bit of skin you expose to him, and you swear you hear him hold his breath as your shirt lands on the floor. You get out of your shoes and socks very slowly.

Luckily, he doesn't comment on it and lets you get out of his clothes at your own pace. He knows he will win anyway. Tonight, he will finally stop playing cat and mouse with you and put his hands on what is rightfully his. So he savours every moment, making a plan in his head for what he will do to you tonight for this small act of rebellion.

He licks his lips as you stand in front of him in nothing but black underwear. His eyes take in your every curve, skin lesions, and scars that mark your warrior body. Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this night and finally unwrap his early birthday present.

"Good girl. You know where the bathroom is, right?" Without waiting for your response, he goes there, expecting you to follow him.

You swallow hard. You're glad that at least you managed to stay in your underwear and that you're not completely naked in front of him. You get out of your pile of clothes and leisurely follow him to the bathroom.

As soon as you enter, the door closes itself behind you. You sigh, the sweet smell of bath salts reaching your nostrils. But you don't feel so relaxed when the coolness of the bathroom and the black marble you stand barefoot on make you shiver and your nipples harden.

The na-baron's dark chuckle catches your attention. He's in a large, black bathtub, his hands resting on its edges as he enjoys the warm water, watching you closely, a spark of amusement shining in his icy blue eyes. He looks like a vulture waiting for the best moment to kill his prey.

"It had been a long day. Join me." He says, lifting his hand for you to take and step into the tub.

Having no choice, you obediently reach for his hand and release it as quickly as you can, sitting on the other side of the bathtub with your legs tucked under you so as not to accidentally touch him. He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

"Not so far, my little mouse. Closer. I won't bite… well, not yet."

"I'm not a mouse." You snap at him. If you're going to die, at least die with dignity. Blinded by your anger at him, you sit on his lap before you can think it through. It's only his hardness pressing against your ass that makes you realize what a mistake you've made. You don't show your discomfort, though; you even lean against his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you just as the skin of your back meets his chest. You feel like you're in a cage, even though he's trying to calm you down by lazily drawing patterns on the skin of your arms. Your underwear soaks up the water and sticks to you, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

"Hand me my dagger."

You much prefer receiving such orders from him. You get up from the bathtub to get away from him for a moment, but he stops you by grabbing your hips tightly. He shakes his head and nods towards the dagger, which is literally at his fingertips. You bite your lip, keeping yourself from talking back at him, and reach for the weapon, handing it to him. You do this carefully, not wanting to cut the skin of your fingertips with the very sharp blade.

He cuts through the fabric of your bra with surgical grace. You gasp in outrage but don't move, knowing full well that you are only millimetres away from him taking your blood. You don't have to turn around to know he's smiling cockily as he traces the tip of his dagger across your skin to your panties.

"You know I can take it off by myself?" You ask as he traces patterns with the tip of his dagger on your stomach, around your navel. You hold your breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, rubbing against your still-clothed ass. You learn the hard way that the rumours about his... greatness were true.

"You had your chance at the beginning, now it's my turn. You're lucky that I'm not taking it off of you with my teeth anyway." He growls in your ear. You shiver as he presses a wet kiss on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your skin, down to your neck, and down to your jawbone before he rests his chin on your shoulder again.

"Sorry for interrupting your fun, my na-baron." You growl as he hooks the tip of his dagger against the fabric of your panties.

"No worries; you will compensate me in another way." He says, cutting your panties. He throws them behind him and lazily presses the dagger against your jawbone, forcing you to turn your head to look at him.

You meet his blue eyes with yours. His irises are practically non-existent, giving way entirely to his dilated, black pupils. He stares at you hungrily, licking his lips. He looks lost and indecisive, as if he didn't know what to do first.

His other hand, the one not holding the dagger pressed against your neck and jaw, explores your body, caressing your skin as if it were some kind of precious silk. You sigh as he cups your breast, which, of course, fits perfectly in his hand. You want to punch him in the face, but the dagger at your throat reminds you that one wrong move could cost you dearly. So you take his hand in yours instead, stopping him from over-exploring.

"You know... I tried to stay away from you. From the first moment I saw you... fighting with those daggers of yours... you're not as graceful in dancing as you are with them in your hands, taking down all your enemies. But you are Bene Gesserit. I know you're dangerous. So damn dangerous... if I were anyone else, you'd use your voice on me and tell me to castrate myself. Or you could make me magically disappear by throwing myself off some tall tower just because I thwarted your plans or looked at you wrong. Surprised? You may live in the shadows, my little witch, but I won't miss anything you do. You know I have trouble controlling myself... so how can I do that when you're so damn irresistible? The fact that I've endured all these years and not gotten close to you the way I wanted—the way I dreamed so many times at night—is quite a success, don't you think?"

He massages your breast, playing with it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he pinches your nipple. He leans closer to you, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. He removes his hand from your breast and moves your connected body along your body. You gasp, tightening your grip on his as he brushes your clit gently with his fingertip.

"I… I should go." You mumble, squirming in his grip, which is, of course, pointless and only makes him groan in pleasure as your ass rubs against his hard, leaking member.

"Stay. You won't oppose your na-baron, will you?" The bastard knows well that you won't openly oppose him, and he uses it as best he can. He moves your joined hands to his length, forcing you to wrap your hand around him. He hisses, pressing the blade closer to your throat and tightening his grip on your hand as he guides yours along his length the way he wants. "Your skin is so soft… and that beautiful hair that you needlessly hide… you don't know how many times I imagined pulling you by it." He mumbles into your neck. The hand with the dagger now presses against your chest, only causing your heart to beat much faster. A wave of heat washes over you, your traitorous pussy clenching desperately as you hear his moans in your ear.

"Feyd..." You moan as his hand releases yours and works at your desperate pussy. He growls, feeling the warmth of your walls around his fingers and the wetness he caused. You remove your hand from his member and tighten your grip on his hand, trying to push him away from your private parts in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.

"Don't fight. Just give yourself to me, Y/N. Let me show you how much you've lost while trying to hide yourself from me in your shadows…" He growls, pressing the tip of the dagger to your nipple. You freeze, moaning as he becomes stiffened by the sheer movement of his blade.

He bites into your neck, making you moan loudly and throwing your head back. He licks and sucks your neck, rubbing his painfully hard cock against your pussy. The water splashes around you, some of it spilling out of the tub due to his sudden movements. A few inches deeper, and he would have slammed into you, bisecting you with his huge cock, which stood ready for you from the moment he saw you in your underwear.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel what you're doing to me? How hard I am because of you? It's like this every time you hand me my blade, perfectly balanced and sharpened, every time you meet all my needs without even communicating with me, you just know what I want by looking at me, my little witch. So tell me, who is a better partner for me than my right hand? Who can I trust more than you? Who should I fuck, full of my heirs, if not you?"

You don't respond; you can't find any words as your brain desperately tries to shout out the pleasure he's giving you and force you to resist him. Unsuccessfully. The warmth of the water, his body, his scent, and his precise, deliberate movements cut off your thoughts. Feyd is practically salivating at the sight of you so lost in lust and desire as he witnesses you lose control for the first time.

He throws away the dagger, which falls with a crash onto the marble floor. Neither of you care as he grabs your hips and, in one smooth, quick movement, turns you around so you can face him.

You only have time to draw in a quick breath before he demands your mouth. You moan into his lips as he kisses you with the same passion and intensity as he did a few weeks ago at the party after you won the fight. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tightly, placing his hands on your back as he presses you against him. You don't stand a chance against his strength. You can resist him, but you know it won't be long before you collapse from exhaustion. You bite his lip until you draw blood, which only causes him to groan and have him grind against you, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

You gasp as he leaves your lips for a while and pulls your hair, exposing your throat to him so he can mark it even more. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys as you feel him slowly move, positioning himself beneath you so that his member presses against the entrance of your pussy.

And just as he's about to join your bodies, to make you two one, to feel your hot, wet, tight walls around him, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

This time, he's the one who freezes, tightening his hold on you. You feel like he's making sure he hasn't misheard or imagined it in this heated moment between you, but when the knocking sounds a second time, he realises it's real.

You pray with gratitude for the soul of the fool who dared to interrupt him, because you know that even if it were something important, he would not live to see the morning.

"What?!" He growls furiously, not letting you go, not letting you move an inch from him, still believing that he can quickly get rid of the intruder and go back to ravaging you, maybe even fucking you while he talks to whoever is standing in front of that damned door. Though Feyd preferred to be fully focused on you when he took you for the first time. However, he was convinced that if he didn't feel you around him soon, he would go crazy. He is so close... all he had to do was push a little more...

"My lord na-baron. The Baron wants to see you. It's very important."

You see pure rage bubbling in his eyes. He growls, shifting you from his lap as he stands up. You look down as you see all of him very clearly, especially what you were exposed to a few moments ago. He throws a towel at you, and you automatically catch it. He wraps one around his waist before he comes back to you again and grabs your throat. He gives you a crazy, passionate kiss, stroking your neck and appreciating the marks he made before pulling away from you.

"We'll come back to it, little witch." He leaves you with that promise, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You hear him shouting something at his harpies, and you shudder at the thought of having to walk past them to get out of here. You lean back against the tub, still sitting in the now-cold water, as you slowly process everything that happened.

You succeeded this time, but you know you won't be so lucky next time. You could either accept... your new responsibilities and his expectations of you, or you could try to break free from him, risking your life.

It was a decision to be made in the privacy of your own chambers. For now, you let yourself lie in the cool water, fully aware that if you weren't interrupted now, he would fuck you silly, likely planting his seed inside you.

You ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be a whore, a vessel for their crazy breeding plan. Apparently, you just changed the owner of your womb. You had to do something if you didn't want to end up as originally intended—as the mother of the future Kwisatz Haderach.

[dcvina-claires]

the year is 2006. you’re an avid fan of collegiate exy. kevin day recently transferred from the best team in the league to the worst after breaking his hand in a skiing accident. before the season starts, janie smalls attempts suicide. she’s a fox, so absolutely no one is surprised by this. however, this means that david wymack has to find a new striker. he picks up a neglected, unremarkable kid from millport. for some reason, this mysterious nobody thinks it’s okay to publicly humiliate riko moriyama, king of exy. apparently, neil josten and kevin day talk shit about riko all the time (this confuses you. kevin and riko are supposed to be best friends). not long after, seth gordon dies of an overdose. once again, it’s the foxes, so no one should be surprised, but something is… off. seth was clean, and it didn’t seem likely for him to throw it away. the foxes don’t get anyone to replace him. despite being short a player, they’re performing better than ever before. you don’t want to admit it, but neil josten can probably be credited with a lot of the foxes success. and something is off about that kid, too. he’s a 5’3 brunette with brown eyes, and then suddenly he’s not. he comes back from winter break with red hair and blue eyes, but more interesting than that is the number four tattooed onto his face, marked for the ravens, marked for the perfect court. the normal minyard twin murders someone in cold blood. neil josten is actually nathaniel wesninski. his father, the butcher of baltimore, tortures him and burns his tattoo off. the trojans throw away their shot at winning. kevin covers up his tattoo with a queen chess piece. he’s never been skiing, the theories behind what happened to his hand are endless. jean moreau transfers to the trojans. this isn’t helping with the abuse allegations. despite everything stacked against them, the foxes beat the ravens. the unhinged minyard twin shatters riko’s hand to stop him from murdering the mafia kid on live tv. for some reason, this is riko’s final straw and he kills himself. some people are blaming kevin, andrew, and neil, but you personally believe that it’s a tad bit dramatic to commit suicide after losing one game and breaking a hand. the rest of the ravens don’t seem to agree, as they’re all suddenly in the most fucked up game of “follow the leader” known to man. jean moreau is spotted being escorted from the foxes dorm room a bloody mess, but that’s only the beginning. one of the ravens stabs himself with a letter opener, another steps onto the subway tracks, and a third overdoses. it’s 2007, and you started saying that the ravens were in a cult as a joke, but you don’t know if it’s a joke anymore. you’re seriously starting to consider that your favorite sport was created solely as a front for the mafia

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alley Boyfriends Part 2

It turns out pretending to be a fake boyfriend involved more planning than Danny had realized was necessary.

Personally, he was thinking he would occasionally be asked to hold Tim's hand in semi-public, tell people about maybe three or four fake dates, and be done with it.

Tim, on the other hand, created a backstory that would make any Dungeon Master weep in complicated worldbuilding joy.

"Why would we keep our relationship a secret?It has to be a valid reason for why we meet in a back alley most of the time but still go out in public to eat." Tim asked him, three notebooks spread around him. All three were written in code, but once they finished creating the tale to his preference, Tim planned on burning them.

Cause that was something people in Gotham did. He wasn't even joking. One of his coworkers invited him to a journal-burning just last week. He went to see what it was about, turns out it was this cities verson of a block party. There were a lot of little groups hudled around movaible fire pits, throwing in paper, laughing and drinking and just being merry.

He checked online to ensure he hadn't accidentally joined a cult. He hadn't; Gotham was just like that.

"I'm from the Midwest—a small town in the Midwest. Maybe I'm not out yet?" Danny suggests with a shrug, slumping in his chair to get comfortable.

Tim snaps his fingers at him with a manic light in his eyes. "That's brilliant. We'll have to go through all your social media to screen for any hints of you being in the alphabet mafia. Now, why would you worry about being spotted four states away? Internalized homophobia?"

Danny shrugs, watching Tim consider his notes, flipping between pages on all three notebooks. Apparently, to ensure their cover story worked, Tim needed to have a notebook dedicated to three themes. The first was their Mental choices—such as a profile of their personalities both before and after their "dating," when they fell in love, and how their upbringing affected them in romantic relationships.

Physical choice—such as how many times they held hands and where the dates were, their attraction types in the pshycal sense, and where they met.

Finally, there weres the Narrative choices—these were people outside their couple. Who saw what, when, and how?. Social media was in there.

"No. That doesn't make sense." Tim sighs showing him the Narrative one. On it are a jamble of words, written so tiny, even if they were noraml Danny would not understand them. "See? Your online humor is about thirty percent gay. Not to mention you've been to Pride in Gotham already."

Tim taps the other notebook, where, supposedly, he is gesturing to the proof of Danny being too comfortable in gay spaces to have internalized homophobia. Danny wonders why he needs this much information, and who the hell would look so far into their fake realtionship.

Once again he wonders who Tim is. Oh, he's been making coffee for the other for days now. Always having his travel mug ready to go at seven am sharp for the other to pick up in the Alley, and had texted him for quick meet ups to trade Heart Attak Coffee.

Sometimes they would send funny memes to each other, and ask eachother about their day. They messaged but it waswn't really deep.

It's also been too late to ask Tim for his last name. It would be embarrassing to admit he either forgot when the other told him or he forgot to ask. His mother would be horrified by his manners.

"It would be sense if we were closer to your hometown, but this would barely hold up against my employees, much less the family." Tim sighs taking a long sip of his coffee. At once, Danny watches his whole body relax, and his eyes light up.

He wonders about that too. Tim reacted to Heart Attack coffee like a ghost interacting with their Obsession.

Tim isn't dead or died from what Danny can tell, but he had obvious signs of death around him. Not enough to be liminal like Jazz, so he wasn't ecto-exposed nor haunted.

He has likely just been in many life-threatening situations. Danny had noticed back in Amity that people like firefighters, military, police officers, and the like- those whose entire jobs meant putting themselves at risk- had the sense of Death gently curling around them. Almost like a flirtation.

He seen a lot more people like that in Gotham, though ussally they were on the opposite side of the previous named workers and he realized that Tim had to be involded in something.

Something big, if the nice suits, expensive coats, countless flowers, tips, and free lunches were any indication. Should he be worried about being in a fake relationship with him?

"Oh! We're a secret because this is both of our first boyfriends!" Tim cheers after a moment. "We are both worried about two different things. I don't want to mess things up due unresolved attachment and abandonment issues not to mention my terrible self-worth and communication skills."

That.....is terrifying self-aware. Danny can only stare as Tim nods his head, flipping some pages and writing more notes down. He switches between green and blue ink pens whenever he is writting so he knows which note applies to who.

Danny thinks he's green.

"You, on the other hand, have a mix of fear of your family finding out, terrible self-esteem due to years of bullying, and fear of commitment. I think we both can play off feeling that if we can't be of use to people, they will leave us mentality, so we never set up proper boundaries just to be safe." Tip pauses, tapping the pen to his bottom lip, eyes focused intensely on his work.

There is a hint of....ghost in his eyes, gleaming just behind his humanity.

He is Ghost King, which means he does not control or know when someone dies, as that is out of his jurisdiction. Not everything that dies becomes a ghost, just like not every ghost has ever lived after all.

In fact, not all of his citizens were humans to begin with or came from humans.

He had command of demons, in the same sense that he did concepts like Time (Clockwork) because they were between Realms. The ones that fell between the cracks of the fabric of worlds were Danny's.

Still, he came to recognize that someone had the potential to be one when their time came. Tim was most definatily a ghost in the making.

That left the question. What would be his Obsession once Tim finished forming?

Something directly involved in his death like Box Ghost (Crushed by a box due to his co-workers' careless prank?) Or something he felt he should have been given in life like Young Blood (Too sick to enjoy his childhood like other children and resentful of neglectful parents who ignored his pain?)

Danny tried to picture it, but they could see a glowing figure racing about wanting coffee and being unnecessarily involved with event planning.

Then again, he thinks, watching as Tim takes small glances at him as if making sure he is still there. He might be Obsessed with routines and being needed by people.

It wasn't really about the lack of caffeine. Instead, it was about the fact Heart Attack Coffee had been a comfort since childhood. Tim needed to feel like he was in control. Danny noticed that the second the other had burst into tears after being denied the coffee.

It was like taking Ember's guitar. His soul had dimmed. That's why Danny gave it to him while carefully checking to ensure Tim wasn't being Overshadowed. If he was, then he would kick the ghost's ass in the alley, away from wandering eyes.

He shivers again when a coldness from his chest zips across his limbs. Ever since Danny developed his ice core, he felt that he had been susceptible to the cold. He still remembers the day his core formed, how he was shivering in the summer to Sam's and Tucker's confusion.

He often found himself piling on scarves and sweaters, even when outside of winter.

Gotham wasn't nearly as cold as Amity Park- they would get a lot of snow compare to here- but it didn't seem to matter to his core.

He gets up to drag over the space heater and figures he may as well get some hot chocolate. His stomach growls, reminding him food would be a good idea, too. "You want something to eat Tim?"

There is a grunt that he learned meant "Yeah, I can eat" from Tim's hunched-over form. He smiles, grabbinghe throw blanket to wrap around himself.

His apartment wasn't too bad considering it was close to Crime Alley. It was odd and a bit outdated, but it was enough space for one person, the hot water lasted longer, and there was no mold or break-ins.

It nearly made up for the fact the walls were paper thin, which did nothing to keep the bitter Jack Frost out; his landlord shut off the heat a few weeks ago for "maintenance" and did not turn it back on.

According to his neighbors, he always does so to save funds. It sucked, but none of them could afford to move away, Danny included.

It would be bearable if Danny's insides weren't literally freezing.

He starts to cook a nice warm soup, chopping up some chicken and noodles, mindful of Tim's continued muttering in the background. It's nice, like having his own white noise machine.

A second wave of ice-ice cold races over his body. Danny glances at Tim, but it seems the other had gotten comfortable near his space heater, and it would be rude to take it across the room just because he was cold when his guest was already using it.

Maybe he'll buy a second one at the second-hand store on his next paycheck. He watches his soup boil as he adds some spices for flavoring, curling in on himself as the throw blanket seems to not be warming him fast enough.

He hates when he gets cold fits like this. They don't happen as often now that he pratice with his ice core but they effect his human side the longer he goes without ising his ice powers.

In a anti-meta city like Gotham he just hasn't found a safe place to do that yet.

Danny's hands ache from the trembles running through them- he slips on some gloves, trying to squeeze warmth back into it. He then goes across the room to the hooks by the wall after giving in, there he puts on a scarf, his coat and a beanie so his ears can warm up too.

"Are you cold?" Tim asks as Danny returns to the stove

Danny laughs from where he is stirring the soup. It is such an understatement he can't do anything else. "Freezing."

"Why not turn up the heat?"

"Landlord shut it off." Danny shrugs at Tim's look of disbelief. "It's okay I've gotten used to it. Just need to make a nest of clothes later to warm up. Soup will help too."

"Does he shut off your heat often enough that you've gotten used to it?" Tim's voice is strangely flat. Danny shrugs.

"He shuts off stuff, like the AC and electricity all the time. A month ago, he shut off the water; that was a rough two weeks." Danny jokes, thinking of how often he had to use the public bathrooms at the library to brush his teeth; he showered in the community gym. He tells Tim this. "Thank the Ancients for the Waynes. If it wasn't for them funding the gym, library, and laundry mat I probably would have it worse"

Tim stares at him for a long minute. Without a word, he reaches for his work laptop, which lay close to the side in favor of the notebooks two hours ago.

Danny isn't sure what exactly Tim does for work—he isn't sure it's legal, so he reframes from asking—but he does know that recently, he has been over to Danny's apartment a lot more to hash out the details and doing remote work at the same time.

He boots it up, fingers flying over the keyboard at a speed that still impresses Danny, even after seeing him type for the past few days. Assuming he returned to work, Danny returned to his own task. He carefully pours them both two bowls- mindful of his gloves- and warms up the mild for their hot chocolates.

They are not the healthiest of combinations, but both boys are comfortable with odd food choices. He caries the tray back to the table, blaket dragging behind him.

Tim stares intensely at the screen, nodding thanks to him when he puts a bowl down by his hand. "What do you think of this?"

Danny glances at the screen and sees a really lovely penthouse. It's spacious, overlooking Gotham's diamond district with five rooms, two baths and even a boucany pool and hottub.

It screams money, with its large arched windows, dark carpet, and grey pillars. He even spots a grand piano in the living room. Danny whistles, "Damn, I would love to live there."

"Okay, it's yours," Tim says, clicking the chat box with the realtor. He types out a quick agreement for the purchase and opens another tab with his private banker and lawyers, commanding them to have the place ready for him in two days—all without reaching for his mouse. An agreement comes through before Danny can do anything other than gawk as Tim adds his name to the owner's list.

Tim seems unaware of Danny's flabbergasted look of awe as he taps into a few more tabs, researching cleaning crews and moving companies. "We can move you on your day off. The cleaners can help you pack if you need it while you're at work, and the moving crew can get it over the city for you. I'm also buying this place. It's ridiculous that he just shuts things off. "

Just who in the world is this guy!?

____________________________________________________

Across the city, Babs stares at Tim's online orders. She has been told to keep an eye on himbecause Jasons worries about his suspected drug problem.

Everyone in the family has been somewhat uneasy about the possibility. Babs will admit her heart broke when she found hours and hours of him meeting the same shady looking teenager entering the same back alley over and over again.

He always came out looking flustered and a bit jittery, and she also thought it wasn't a secret lover like Bruce and Dick had hoped. She had always been a least optimistic, and her cameras- even the ones she hacked into to review recorded surveillance for the past three showed her the ugly truth.

Tim was an addict.

She had been working on her letter for the intervention they would be holding for him, typing past her tears, when this popped up. She blinks and takes her glasses off to wipe them before checking to see if she is seeing correctly.

But nope, the words stay the same. She slowly reaches for her headset and clicks it on. At once, her ear overflows with various voices from everyone on the field.

Tim is the only one not out currently, but she can clearly see why.

"Tim just bought a penthouse for Danny Fenton. He also has two sets of cleaning crews, one to Fenton's address and one to his own. Two sets of moving crews have been added to both addresses, each ending at the same penthouse. He's going to be living with him," She announces, silencing everyone at once. "Does that sound like drug dealer behavior?"

"Omg," Dick cries at once. Relief and joy overlap his voice as he screams into the mics "Love wins!"

"Let's not celebrate too soon. We still have to figure out what the hell those alley meetings are about," Jason warns. "If it is a drug dealer, moving in together will be the worst thing possible to T."

"Agree. We prob him but carefully so he doesn't catch on." Bruce comands "Act as ussual to get as much information out of Tim."

"So.....we throw him a house warming/investation on his boyfriend party?" Steph asks the sound of wind accompanies her words. She is likely grappling towards Danny's apparment to check on Tim.

She has gotten the habit of doing so ever since Danny has been flagged by Jason. Steph has reported the same thing evertime. Tim seemed to just been doing work at Danny's table, drinking teas and cuddling together in front of Danny's cheap tv.

She thought it was all very domestic, even when her eyes tracked every movement Danny made. Of course she couldn't get too close least Tim would catch on.

"Exactly."

[heavenlymorals]

Details that I've noticed about Arthur Morgan-

-He, for the most part, despises male touch, especially if it's overly affectionate. He gets tense anytime a man hugs him and wants it to be over as quick as possible (Jamie, Mickey) and he looks visibly offended when Professor Bell touches him. He even sometimes gets annoyed when Dutch touches him on his shoulder, someone who he considers a father figure.

-On the flip side, he does not mind female touch at all. He even initiates it sometimes (Tilly, the girl at Beaver Hollow). Now one could argue that they were high stress situations, but if Tilly was a dude, he would've just set her free, make a snide remark, give her a gun, and then he'd expect her to help him with the fighting. He is completely cool with the nun giving him a hug and doesn't get offended when Mary Beth touches his hand in their therapy session.

- He seems to be pretty well read. He knows Shakespeare, with Romeo and Juliet, and Icarus. He makes other literary references. This is probably due to Dutch. Dutch is clearly very well read and cultured. However, Arthur seems more interested in practical works like guides then philosophy and stories, given that the only book he has on his tent desk is a plant guide.

- He's great at remembering faces and less so on remembering names.

- He does have an amazing propensity to remember physical features, like how he is able to create amazing portraits of the people he meets without consistent reference. It's incredible and works back to the whole great at remembering faces thing. Same goes for animals.

- He is very curious. He is always touching things, looking at things, critiquing things, and trying to understand how they work.

- He generally refuses to be emotionally open with men and does it only with women- this could be due to the idea of the Cult of Domesticity. I've made a post about it before. Compare him speaking with the nun to Reverend Swanson. Compare him speaking to John about Dutch leaving him to him speaking to Sadie about Dutch leaving him.

- He is very connected or is fond of artistic people. He and Mary Beth talk about their journals. He is fond of Albert Mason's photography and helps him out. He is interested in Charles Chataney's artistic work, even if he doesn't like it or connect with it.

- Since a lot of camp members respond to Arthur's antagonizations with something like "not again" or "I knew I'd be next", it's safe to assume Arthur will go off on people from time to time, regardless if you play high or low honor.

- Does not have a fixed temperament. In some missions, he is more energetic and in others, he is more downtrodden. Very realistic and I fucking love it.

- Has direct eye content at all times- will look anyone in the eye and does not give a fuck. NPCs will look away from him if he stares at them.

- Gets mad when men don't behave like men, especially when it concerns women. He gets pissed at John for not stepping up and being a man to his family. He gets annoyed and even pissed off when asking why Beau couldn't have helped Penelope Braithwaite as she is his woman.

- Given how the camp falls to shit whenever Arthur isn't donating, we can safely conclude that Arthur is the most valuable member of that camp, bar maybe Hosea and Dutch.

- He is very reminiscent of the Dark Romantic, which is really interesting as a lot of times, it can be looked at as the middle ground between Romantacism and Realism, two ideologies that were very popular in the 19th century. I will make a full analysis regarding this later.

- Introverted, but not shy at all. In fact, he's very charismatic and is just as good as dealing with people as Dutch and Hosea (The Riverboat Mission) This 'dumb, mumbling' cowboy thing he's dumbed down to in the fandom is an insult to his character.

- He probably acted like a father figure to Jamie Gillis when he was still with Mary, given the fact that he taught him how to ride a horse. Will probably also make a full post about this later.

- Some people say that Arthur is around 5'10-11. Others say He's 6'0-3. Whatever his height actually is, he's still way taller than the average man during this time period, who was around 5'6. Now imagine that with muscles and armed to the teeth- fucking terrifying.

- Very sentimental. He keeps a photo of his supposedly no good Pa and wears his hat. He keeps a photo of his mother who he doesn't really remember at all. He keeps a photo of his dog, a horseshoe that probably belonged to a dead and beloved horse. He keeps a flower from his mother. Keeps a photo of Mary as well. If he had a photo of Isaac, he'd probably keep that too.

-Arthur died at 36 years old from Tuberculosis if you play high honor. The real gunslinger and outlaw Doc Holliday died at the same exact age and the same exact way.

- Genuinely doesn't give a fuck about movements, social issues, and cultural issues, but does care about individual people.

- I love him

- So fucking much

- 😃

[wilwheaton]

This theory from investigators suggests not simply that Crooks profile matched the sociology and ideation of school/mass shooters but perhaps that he was quite literally planning a mass shooting and the Trump rally, which was announced ten days in advance, simply provided a ready venue for it. I confess even I have some difficulty quite getting my head around this idea. But there it is. And it suggests that rather than some climate of persecution by which “they” – some fuzzy reference to the vast collective of Trump opposition – tried to kill him, as Republicans are now universally claiming, Trump may have fallen victim to the mass shooting/school shooting culture gun rights activists have done so much to foster.

Mass Shooter/School Shooter Theory Gets Some New Proponents

This is what almost exactly what I’ve thought since we found out who the shooter was. 

He’s a standard issue right wing stochastic terrorist.

He’s exactly the kind of person Trump and his cult quietly support and hope to create more of, to terrorize the rest of us into silence.

The right wing lunatics just never stopped to consider that one of these guys, who they have worked to hard to create, enable, and protect, would turn the gun back on them.

Violence is never okay. All violence does is create more violence. And there is one group of people in America who consistently call for, and celebrate violence.

They are, of course, very shocked Pikachu right now.

[vaspider]

In defense of retellings & reimaginings

I'm not going to respond to the post that sparked this, because honestly, I don't really feel like getting in an argument, and because it's only vaguely even about the particular story that the other post discussed. The post in question objected to retellings of the Rape of Persephone which changed important elements of the story -- specifically, Persephone's level of agency, whether she was kidnapped, whether she ate seeds out of hunger, and so on. It is permissible, according to this thesis, to 'fill in empty spaces,' but not to change story elements, because 'those were important to the original tellers.' (These are acknowledged paraphrases, and I will launch you into the sun if you nitpick this paragraph.)

I understand why to the person writing that, that perspective is important, and why they -- especially as a self-described devotee of Persephone -- feel like they should proscribe boundaries around the myth. It's a perfectly valid perspective to use when sorting -- for example -- which things you choose to read. If you choose not to read anything which changes the elements which you feel are important, I applaud you.

However, the idea that one should only 'color in missing pieces,' especially when dealing with stories as old, multi-sourced, and fractional as ancient myths, and doing so with the argument that you shouldn't change things because those base elements were important to the people who originally crafted the stories, misses -- in my opinion -- the fundamental reason we tell stories and create myths in the first place.

Forgive me as I get super fucking nerdy about this. I've spent the last several years of my life wrestling with the concept of myths as storytelling devices, universality of myths, and why myths are even important at all as part of writing on something like a dozen books (a bunch of which aren't out yet) for a game centered around mythology. A lot of the stuff I've written has had to wrestle with exactly this concept -- that there is a Sacred Canon which cannot be disrupted, and that any disregard of [specific story elements] is an inexcusable betrayal.

Myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us as individuals, as social groups, and as a society. The elements we utilize or change, those things we choose to include and exclude when telling and retelling a story, tell us what's important to us.

I could sit down and argue over the specific details which change over the -- at minimum -- 1700 years where Persephone/Kore/Proserpina was actively worshiped in Greek and Roman mystery cults, but I actually don't think those variations in specific are very important. What I think is important, however, is both the duration of her cults -- at minimum from 1500 BCE to 200CE -- and the concept that myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us.

The idea that there was one, or even a small handful, of things that were most important to even a large swath of the people who 'originally' told the store of the Rape of Persephone or any other 'foundational' myth of what is broadly considered 'Western Culture,' when those myths were told and retold in active cultic worship for 1700 years... that seems kind of absurd to me on its face. Do we have the same broad cultural values as the original tellers of Beowulf, which is only (heh) between 1k-1.3k years old? How different are our marital traditions, our family traditions, and even our language? We can, at best, make broad statements, and of inclusive necessity, those statements must be broad enough as to lose incredible amounts of specificity. In order to make definitive, specific statements, we must leave out large swaths of the people to whom this story, or any like it, was important.

To move away from the specific story brought up by the poster whose words spun this off, because it really isn't about that story in particular, let's use The Matter of Britain/Arthuriana as our framing for the rest of this discussion. If you ask a random nerd on Tumblr, they'd probably cite a handful of story elements as essential -- though of course which ones they find most essential undoubtedly vary from nerd to nerd -- from the concept that Camelot Always Falls to Gawain and the Green Knight, Percival and the grail, Lancelot and Guinevere...

... but Lancelot/Guinevere and Percival are from Chrétien de Troyes in the 12th century, some ~500 years after Taliesin's first verses. Lancelot doesn't appear as a main character at all before de Troyes, and we can only potentially link him to characters from an 11th century story (Culhwch and Olwen) for which we don't have any extant manuscripts before the 15th century. Gawain's various roles in his numerous appearances are... conflicting characterizations at best.

The point here is not just that 'the things you think are essential parts of the story are not necessarily original,' or that 'there are a lot of different versions of this story over the centuries,' but also 'what you think of as essential is going to come back to that first thesis statement above.' What you find important about The Matter of Britain, and which story elements you think can be altered, filed off or filled in, will depend on what that story needs to tell you about yourself and what's important to you.

Does creating a new incarnation of Arthur in which she is a diasporic lesbian in outer space ruin a story originally about Welsh national identity and chivalric love? Does that disrespect the original stories? How about if Arthur is a 13th century Italian Jew? Does it disrespect the original stories if the author draws deliberate parallels between the seduction of Igerne and the story of David and Bathsheba?

Well. That depends on what's important to you.

Insisting that the core elements of a myth -- whichever elements you believe those to be -- must remain static essentially means 'I want this myth to stagnate and die.' Maybe it's because I am Jewish, and we constantly re-evaluate every word in Torah, over and over again, every single year, or maybe it's because I spend way, way too much time thinking about what's valuable in stories specifically because I write words about these concepts for money, but I don't find these arguments compelling at all, especially not when it comes to core, 'mainstream' mythologies. These are tools in the common toolbox, and everybody has access to them.

More important to me than the idea that these core elements of any given story must remain constant is, to paraphrase Dolly Parton, that a story knows what it is and does it on purpose. Should authors present retellings or reimaginings of the Rape of Persephone or The Matter of Britain which significantly alter historically-known story elements as 'uncovered' myths or present them as 'the real and original' story? Absolutely not. If someone handed me a book in which the new Grail was a limited edition Macklemore Taco Bell Baja Blast cup and told me this comes directly from recently-discovered 6th century writings of Taliesin, I would bonk them on the head with my hardcover The Once & Future King. Of course that's not the case, right?

But the concept of canon, historically, in these foundational myths has not been anything like our concept of canon today. Canon should function like a properly-fitted corset, in that it should support, not constrict, the breath in the story's lungs. If it does otherwise, authors should feel free to discard it in part or in whole.

Concepts of familial duty and the obligation of marriage don't necessarily resonate with modern audiences the way that the concept of self-determination, subversion of unreasonable and unjustified authority, and consent do. That is not what we, as a general society, value now. If the latter values are the values important to the author -- the story that the author needs to tell in order to express who they are individually and culturally and what values are important to them* -- then of course they should retell the story with those changed values. That is the point of myths, and always has been.

Common threads remain -- many of us move away from family support regardless of the consent involved in our relationships, and life can be terrifying when you're suddenly out of the immediate reach and support of your family -- because no matter how different some values are, essential human elements remain in every story. It's scary to be away from your mother for the first time. It's scary to live with someone new, in a new place. It's intimidating to find out that other people think you have a Purpose in life that you need to fulfill. It's hard to negotiate between the needs of your birth family and your chosen family.

None of this, to be clear, is to say that any particular person should feel that they need to read, enjoy, or appreciate any particular retelling, or that it's cool, hip and groovy to misrepresent your reworking of a myth as a 'new secret truth which has always been there.' If you're reworking a myth, be truthful about it, and if somebody told you 'hey did you know that it really -- ' and you ran with that and find out later you were wrong, well, correct the record. It's okay to not want to read or to not enjoy a retelling in which Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere negotiate a triad and live happily ever after; it's not really okay to say 'you can't do that because you changed a story element which I feel is non-negotiable.' It's okay to say 'I don't think this works because -- ' because part of writing a story is that people are going to have opinions on it. It's kind of weird to say 'you're only allowed to color inside these lines.'

That's not true, and it never has been. Greek myths are not from a closed culture. Roman myths are not sacrosanct. There are plenty of stories which outsiders should leave the hell alone, but Greek and Roman myths are simply not on that list. There is just no world in which you can make an argument that the stories of the Greek and Roman Empires are somehow not open season to the entire English-speaking world. They are the public-est of domain.

You don't have to like what people do with it, but that doesn't make people wrong for writing it, and they certainly don't have to color within the lines you or anyone else draws. Critique how they tell the story, but they haven't committed some sort of cultural treachery by telling the stories which are important to them rather than the stories important to someone 2500 years dead.

****

*These are not the only reasons to tell a story and I am not in any way saying that an author is only permitted to retell a story to express their own values. There are as many reasons to tell a story as there are stories, and I don't really think any reason to create fiction is more or less valid than any other. I am discussing, specifically, the concept of myths as conveyors of essential cultural truths.

[aphrodeiities]

ᴛʜᴇ 1° ɪɴ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢʏ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ

involves my own research along with the help of janduz.

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THE DEGREE IN THE SIGNS.

THE DEGREE IN THE PLANETS.

THE DEGREE IN THE HOUSES.

♱ the 1° is the first degree to belong to a sign, which is aries. this degree specifically means being in unity for something, being a singular, and individual and being the divine. it speaks of the possibilities that can be reached, taking control of the future and embracing changes, where you are innovative, in risk and doubtful. it is a degree of the universe and being a trendsetter.

THE 1° IN THE SIGNS

♱ 1° in aries - pioneers, trend-setters, dare-devils. they're willing to grab any opportunity they come across, they see the potential in themselves and everything along with other people. they're confident but can be very arrogant and even too violent/aggressive. they like to take the control of their lives, hate it when other people tell them what to do.

♱ 1° in taurus - divine beauty, can be stubborn to embrace changes, this could make them be considered as bratty people. could over-spend and are likely good at cooking, unique way of creating/embracing art. independency with money, possessive as well.

♱ 1° in gemini - can be very mean people, could make people do whatever they want. pretty hands and trendy people. though they might follow the crowd too much and be very anxious. intrusive thoughts and doing things impulsively, indicator of being popular online. beautiful siblings or children.

♱ 1° in cancer - protective over family, willing to do anything for them. a momager, or has one. sometimes can be lazy; could come from a well-off family or could make it happen for theirs. could be the first to move out or could move out really young. great mother, and doing something different to what family expected. emotional outbursts.

♱ 1° in leo - very arrogant and prideful people. known for something specific. can be very optimistic and wise. likes to be challenged, and challenges a lot of people, could change a lot, and has much passion for stuff, the type to make their passion into a job and can succeed.

♱ 1° in virgo - has many skills, being very competitive, can be honest people and very anxious. can achieve success in many ways/work-fields. sport/health oriented and can be religious. the type to realise their destiny is their own, and other people might find it hard to have the native with this degree listen to them. spiritual healing is important.

♱ 1° in libra - dresses like a goddess, like to be spoiled. generous and gentle, likes to please people and be liked by others. a popular person in their friendship group, popular in general. likes to feel like they belong into a friendship group. learning how to be dependent on themselves.

♱ 1° in scorpio - generous. could lead or join a cult, a magician, a survivor, being a successful person, wealthy. other people might copy them a lot. they inspire a lot of people. they're popular and magnetic. can be obsessed with wealth, the type to betray others over it.

♱ 1° in sagittarius - creative people, other people could look up to them. divine knowledge, can be very stubborn, active and direct. likes to be the centre of attention, could get in trouble a lot and can doubt beliefs, specifically systematic religion.

♱ 1° in capricorn - owning a company, very intelligent and clever. being a leader, the oldest relative/sibling. confident, might have authority doubt them and their beliefs. they oversee a lot of stuff, they could sometimes feel like they have the entire world on their shoulders.

♱ 1° in aquarius - innovative and unique people. popular people in their group, the face of a group. successful and wealthy people. intuitive/psychic people. known online or in a community. first to do stuff and having others follow their ideas. divine knowledge.

♱ 1° in pisces - very magical people. psychic dreams and divine energy, can be very insecure and doubtful. sacrifices a lot and strong ancestors/ancestry. believes in strong principles and morals, and can be people who can be lazy and care free.

THE 1° IN PLANETS

♇ 1° in sun - definitely being someone who gets much attention, and can be unsure with what they want to do in life, they inspire other people to creative. having divine aura and likely can have a respect father figure, or they're the person who is respected, can be given lots of opportunities. native can be explosive.

♇ 1° in moon - beautiful people. intuitive/psychic people. "divine woman" and divine wisdom. might follow the heart too much. can be explosive and has unpredictable feelings. beauty spots and having the need to belong to a tribe.

♇ 1° in mercury - very straight-forward people. can be excellent at marketing, and are popular people online if they try. can adapt to new situations easily and might have the habit of speaking over people, loud relatives and a clair. can be very articulate.

♇ 1° in venus - normally the one to initiate the first move. other people could want to copy their style or their beauty. likes to make money and be around friends. face of the beauty standard/conventional beauty, divine beauty but could get insecure easily. can do risky stuff related to beauty like botched surgery. likely to have envious friends. can imply of having a beautiful spouse.

♇ 1° in mars - explosive anger, likely to get into arguments with men/the same sex. very competitive and are likely to get into accidents, be careful with cars! though could have an infatuation with cars. "you only live once" attitude and can be very confident and controlling. can be aggressive as well, depending on the aspects. can imply having a beautiful husband.

♇ 1° in jupiter - very creative people, innovative and directors. could have a God-complex, could be worshipped or could worship others. can be someone with a strong belief/moral system. could have a high horse and can be someone who takes control of their lives. can make many possibilities for themselves and can be very direct.

♇ 1° in saturn - could like to be alone. leader of other people. owning a business. politicians/strong political views. struggle to believe in themselves and being someone who has controlling authority figures around them. can be one themselves; respected people.

♇ 1° in uranus - first to do something and could appear as other-worldly to other people, whether it be aura or features. something about them stands out. popular friendship group, unpredictable/doing stuff on the whim. psychic people. car racing, likely to embrace changes or bring them to other people.

♇ 1° in neptune - clairvoyant or has another clairy. always in their mind. maladaptive day-dreamer. doubts themselves a lot. beautiful person, can get walked over, can be someone who is one with the universe. can be unsure with how they look, very dreamy people.

♇ 1° in pluto - fiery person and mean. possessive and has a specific life path. always aiming for opportunities and can be someone who can be arrogant and conceited. stubborn to embrace changes but life is working hard for them to listen and go through stuff. much influence and popularity. could be prone to accidents.

♇ 1° in north node - very bright path. fame indicator. first to accomplish something. hot-headed. scars on the face and distinct features and can be someone who likes to be dominant. they see the potential of other people, the type to take on any path they want.

♇ 1° in black moon lilith - could be known for something specific, can be hated on. could surprise everyone by doing better than expected. slut-shamed and having dangerous beauty. Dark Goddess like beauty. vengeful and can be against authority. indicator of from rags to riches.

THE 1° IN THE HOUSES

♱ 1° in the first house - divine beauty, structured faces and prominent cheekbones. confident person, sees possibilities every where and can be an opportunist and innovative. they can be very head-strong as well. taking direction of their own lives.

♱ 1° in the second house - beauty indicator, always finding a way to make money. family-oriented, can adapt to different financial changes, nice/divine singing voices. great money-makers.

♱ 1° in the third house - main sibling/cousin, pretty relatives and pleasing or direct voices. might have a lot of siblings/cousins. might've had to change schools a lot. popular on the internet, nice nails ideas. but can be hesitant when it comes to do things. but can sometimes say whatever is on their mind.

♱ 1° in the fourth house - main family member. mother is top-dog or doubts herself. native could get embarrassed easily. religious/active family. supportive family and can sometimes be the black sheep family member. beautiful home, could be ancient or historic.

♱ 1° in the fifth house - performers. karmic children and love life. broadway or influencer. beautiful children and also someone who is generous and sympathetic. ego can get them into trouble, main child in the family, could be someone who wants everything.

♱ 1° in the sixth house - competitive people or has competitive enemies. can be someone who is spiritual/religious. can be a person who wants to make it, can be someone who is anxious. could doubt their own skills, might change workspaces a lot, loves/close to pets. could live a risky life or do a risky job.

♱ 1° in the seventh house - risky relationships. can be an insecure person. someone who gets hesitant with relationships, likely to believe in soul-mates. successful spouse and being someone who wears the pants in the relationship. could be obsessed with romance. can easily get partnerships, could like to feel like they belong somewhere.

♱ 1° in the eighth house - be careful with finances and drugs. could be obsessed with sex. can find out secrets/information about other people easily. can change their life around easily, could be protective over friendship groups, over themselves. could have religious psychosis; lucid dreams and shifting. likely to be in a cult.

♱ 1° in the ninth house - cult indicator. can be a leader or preacher for/to others. having adventures around the world and can teach people new information. parent might've been a priest and could be very spiritual and taking life in their own hands. could have unique opinions and can be someone who appreciates other religions ad cultures.

♱ 1° in the tenth house - having a career they want and not following what other people want them to do. ceo energy and competition in the work-space. much responsibilities and can be the face of a company or a product. any career can suit them, they're confident but needs to learn how to take the leap of faith.

♱ 1° in the eleventh house - internet famous. loved on the internet and can be people who are seen as a Goddess or teacher. can be seen as someone who starts new trends. unpredictable future, unsure of what to do. finds new way to make more money or friends. karmic/soulmate friends, but could be paranoid of them.

♱ 1° in the twelfth house - spiritual psychosis. anxious person. mind can be their own enemy or even fame. manifestors and feels like they have to teach or protect everyone. hesitant people. another indicator of shifting and lucid dream; can be a victim of bulling. expressive eyes. can stall a lot.

masterlist

degree theory masterlist

[ane-doodles]

Make it turquoise!

Cult of the Lamb Narindersona and Lambsona :D

Special thanks to @linkerbell for motivating me to draw, name and finally share them

Below information extracted from a conversation on discord:

Aneerinder:

(Using he/him for this occasion)

I wanted to maintain both the theme of the felines and the god of death but with a bit of the Japanese aesthetic that I like and other details that I usually use in my drawings.

First, the species is still a serval (like my Narinder) but in white. The stripes and spots they have are painted by him himself, except for the ears and tail, which are natural.

Instead of just making him the god of death, I wanted to base him a little more on the idea of a prophet, who receives messages from the future and teaches them to others if you ask in the right way. He is considered the writer of destiny, even though as such it is outside his area, how someone lives or dies is outside his power, he only receives them and archives the stories of their life.

Based on this idea of a writer/illustrator, the idea was born that his hands would function as a writing instrument (similar to this character in the movie 9 who had pen(? fingers to write). Constantly gushing ichor from these using them as ink…

Jumping to the moment of imprisonment hehehe

He is partially blinded using a paper talisman behind his head. To prevent it from being able to write or create something with the ink/ichor, it is surrounded by water, so that the ink always runs.

He also ends up being immobilized with red ropes as an allegory to the "red thread of destiny", especially his right hand is especially tangled to prevent him from continuing to "write the destiny of the gods". To prevent the ropes from breaking there are also paper talismans hanging from them.

In short, prevent him from writing/drawing in any way in order to keep the destiny of the gods in his hands. He ends up becoming dependent on other senses, little talking, much listening.

He loves stories, after all his job as a god is also to record the lives of mortals.

Their followers could ask for glimpses of their futures, which were considered predictions.

When someone dies and reaches the other side, they are given a scroll with a copy of the record of their life.

I'm still thinking about how to draw him, but if I design a shape for him as a follower, I'll most likely end up wearing glasses to see.

You will never in your life get him to close the haori he usually wears.

Aniki:

Ok lamb, she/her this time

The lamb genocide occurs during an expedition trip. She coincidentally returns to her village the day it is destroyed. Easily resigned, once she finished digesting the idea that she was the last of her kind she had no choice but to move on.

She's not built for combat, she's even terribly bad at dodging (like me qwq) which is why she dies often.

[Here I have an inside joke in which the god tells her "I may be blind, but I clearly see a lot of death in your future" jsjsjs]

Their crusades mainly consist of collecting resources and trading with traders.

She is very good at managing the cult, to the point where in the first five years it was already self-sustaining. She is also usually quick to meet the demands of her followers and thereby increase the faith of the cult, avoiding at all costs giving sermons because she is too shy to do so. Despite this, in casual conversations with cultists he often talks about the god of death in a way that unconsciously raises their faith.

She never takes the cult on herself, because she couldn't be interested in the idea of taking that burden on herself, which is why all the cult's statues and decorations revolve around the cat.

Now, having a self-sustaining cult and a faith that is constantly growing, she ends up having too much free time, so she spends her time putting together a collection of objects she finds around, making decorations for the cult, playing and exploring.

When she dies she tells stories of common events that occur in the cult, and in return the god tells her stories of past lives that have reached his domain. They have a constant exchange of stories which is what allows them to get closer.

She changes over time (new design yipee) and the crown upon returning to the god grants her a blessing in which she becomes the "eyes of god"

The new design only has some minor changes from the original.

Since she never had the ambition to take power, divinity never affected her.

She only had small surges of devotion and power that made her possessed by the god and that way she was able to defeat the bishops (similar to what a writer would do with his characters)

[toast-on-dandelioms]

What if reader accidentally called superman "dad" while they were on a mission? Like Batman needed some help tracking down some new murder cult and thought Spider could help? But they wouldn't come unless superman wasnt there since Spider does NOT trust the batfam?

Ok so, I'mma make a scene with your idea and then say what it would happen. Just to then explain how the Batfam would react.

You were called with Clark to a mission, knowing the Batfam was there but you didn't care since you knew Clark would protect you from them.

Plus you made sure to grab two tasers this time and incorporated a new type of web fluid that could emit electricity when it hits someone.

You did create it so you didn't have to use a taser but also so you could tase anyone of the Batfam that would dare to get too close to you or even touch you during the mission.

Clark finally landed while you adjusted your mask since you took it off while you were flying to feel the air in your (long/short) hair.

You looked at the batfam, already annoyed when they didn't even do anything but just their presence was a source of anger and annoyance for you.

While the Batfam was also annoyed that Clark was there but he had to come or you wouldn't even consider going with them to a mission.

You didn't say anything to them, just giving them the blank stare your mask provided and just stayed next to Clark, listening to them talk about what everyone was supposed to do in the mission.

Bruce did try to make you go with him or any of his kids, making you nervous since you couldn't really refuse without any excuse. You did have one but you can't really say "I refuse to go with any of your kids (directed to Batman) because I hate all of you".

But Clark surprised you by refusing any option of you going with any on the Bats and stated that you would go with him, making you smile a little and lean a little on the kryptonian.

Which made all of the Bats jealous and angry at the kryptonian.

At the end you were supposed to go with Superman in the hideout of the cult, which you were happy about it and quickly followed the kryptonian while ignoring the glares of the Batfam that were directed towards Clark.

Well, during the mission you got separated from Superman in the fight against the cultist when they suddenly ambushed both of you, making you panic since you never fought so many people at once.

Yes you did fight small gangs but usually they were just kids and you just had to punch one and all of them backed down immediately. So fighting a large group of people that knew how to fight was a bit difficult and extremely different from what you're used to.

Plus your panic doubled when you saw Damian and Dick approaching, probably to help you but in the fight and the panic in your mind made them seem even more dangerous than the cultists trying to stab you.

So you did the only reasonable thing that your scared mind wanted. You called for Clark while fighting three cultists at the same time, tasing a few of them while fighting.

The problem? You accidentally called him dad.

Bruce Wayne: oh god how angry was he when he heard that from Dick and Damian's coms.

(He still doesn't know who you are behind the mask but already sees you as one of your kids even though you're already are)

He quickly finished fighting the leader and ran to where you were supposed to be, quickly knocking out anyone who was in his way.

He did kill a few of those in his way, but he made sure to hide the bodies and will deal with it later by burning down the hideout.

He finally arrived at the spot where you and the others were supposed to be and he saw something that made him want to grab his kryptonite batarang to hit Clark.

Why? He saw you in Clark's arms, hugging him with all your might while he flew so neither Dick and Damian could reach you.

Plus the worst thing was the sick smile Clark had in his smile, like he planned it. Like he knew you weren't ready to go in such a big mission and would probably call him in a panic.

Bruce just glared at the kryptonian and signaled him to get out with you so they could get rid of the rest of the cultists.

Basically Bruce would be a jealous bitch even though he doesn't care about you when you don't have the mask on, and would use his anger against all the cultists there since he blamed them instead of blaming himself.

Clark Kent: oh he would be so smug whenever he sees Bruce and you're not with him.

Especially since he planned it. He might not be as smart as the Batfam but he knows people and especially you.

He knew you weren't ready for such a big mission since you mostly trained with him and fought small gangs in Gotham.

He knew you would panic while fighting and knew you would call for him when you couldn't do it anymore.

The dad part was a surprise but a happy one for Clark, he became so smug when you jumped in his arms when he quickly flew to you.

He did see the glares he received from almost all the batkids and especially Batman, to which he responded with a smug smile while rubbing your back.

He left with you since you didn't want to stay and he also knew Bruce caught the leader so he didn't have any reasons to stay.

Not sure if you also wanted the Batkids but I didn't add them, just comment if you also want to have the batkids reaction and I will add it!