#does anyone have any more information on him?

[tomorrcwz]

. ⋆⠀⁺ BURN YOUR FINGERTIPS / library

jenson button x reader

when jenson sends you letter after letter, you give him attention and a part of your heart but does he handle it carefully or are you one of the girls?

jenson button holds the reputation of being a notorious flirt because of his natural charm, the smooth contact of finger gazing on the other person's arm or back, and the effortless comfort of fitting in any situation, wherever he knows the people or not. he's a winner in that sense, can never stops himself to talk to whoever is available.

the brit could charm his way out of an interview, literally anything, if we're being honest.

you, on the other hand, are simpler, much more introverted and less likely to be interested in chatting with absolte strangers. this isn't your kind of thing, though it doesn't mean you'll sit quietly in a group sitting. it's depending on the people you surround yourself with, the current mood and how low your social battery is.

so the letter attached to a small box does surprise you but you don't think too much about it as you have to rush out of your door to get your bus. the gifts rest in your right hand and the other closes the door. you can't be arsed to wait for the next bus, which will leave in about an hour — you just want to buy a few groceries and maybe browse through the local bookshop.

on the way to the bus station, you stuff the box in your bag and open the letter. the first thing you notice is the texture of the paper — it doesn't feel as light as the conventional paper used for everything and it's more grainy and slightly yellowish, remainding you of handmade paper your sibling and you did with your grandparents summers ago. you unfold it. your name is written down with a dearest in front of it, making you heart tumble in your chest, eyes fleeting downwards, where the writer's name stands. jenson b.

his words are sweet and the invite is welcoming you like a warm embrace. he gives fantastic hugs.

but there's a big fat why swirling in your head.

sure, you both work in the same field, enjoying racing, especially formula one racing, however that's the only comment ground. and mark. but that's all.

you've never been alone with him, never talked without anyone else there, never exchanged personal information and desires.

he must be enchanted by you, but why? and how?

the whole thing is seems like a crush type of situation, you've experienced at the age of fourteen to sixteen on several classmates and other students.

at home you open the small box carefully, tracing the beads made out of porcelain. a beautiful piece which fits right into your collection. you snap a picture of it, dangling from your wrist, to send it to the gifter, who's number you don't have. instagram will have to do the trick.

the following day, you come home to another small box sitting on your doormat, a letter underneath it. this time the beads aren't the usual white but multicoloured, glowing in the dim light the lamp spends.

like the first letter, jenson has used the same textured paper and asks for a date, number attached. you're quick to agree, shooting him a message to which he responds in the next few minutes.

in only a few days, he's standing outside of your flat, your favourite flowers in one hand, wearing a lose button down and dress pants. jenson looks good, and if he wasn't your coworker you'd totally invite him in after the dinner date.

as you've already expected, jenson is the ideal date, table booked at a cute restaurant with a nice view and you have your fun sharing lots of different appetisers. you feel great and comfortable, laughing at his silly jokes though you can move on more serious topics without hindering the flow. and the end of the night, the brit drives you home and you find another letter in your handbag, doodles on the side.

maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

when you run into jense at work, quite literally like shoulders slamming against each other, you feel his hand brush yours and the weight of a paper note between your fingers.

"hey jense", you mumble, happiness floating your body at the sight of the man. there's a bright smile on his thin lips and his hair looks fluffy as if he woke up just minutes ago. "you look good."

"but not as good as you, sweets", he cooes, "can't compete with a beauty like you. did you get my letter?"

you nod. "couse I did. you should think about writing a booklet about love poems, they're phenomenal."

"then they wouldn't be from the depth of my heart." He winks before continuing his walk down the paddock, fingers brushing his hair away to the side. his tall figure weaves effortlessly though the throng of mechanics, media personal and other workers, and you start to miss him again.

the note in your hand reads "you have a place in my heart no one else ever could have" and you immediately know its by fitzgerald, a topic discussed on the phone nights ago.

you receive another letter but don't see the man himself for two weeks. only three weeks after you get a glimpse of him across the garages, chatting up a woman your age from a different team. she's blushing, eyes fluttering every few seconds and giggles leave her mouth as jenson touches her elbow, before handing her a letter.

its the same tone of paper, probably the exact material.

at the sight your heart shatters and you feel used, a part of his game, weaving girl after girl 'round his finger.

sure, you know and have already known beforehand of his reputation though he has a way to make someone feel special, treats them lovingly, which let's you forget about it. you thought you were different, close to his heart, but he moves on, giving every willing woman a place in his heart another woman had already filled before her. its a cycle and you are a part of it.

what happens next is your decision — move on or confront him?

[daffi-990]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday ✍️

Tagged by @wikiangela @tizniz & @hippolotamus

Sharing a little something from Chapter 7 of Rival Firefighters 🚒. I think I’ve shared some of this before but don’t know how much, so we’ll just all pretend I haven’t shared any of it, okay? 😅

“Wake up, Buck!”

Buck’s eyes slowly blink open, sleep still heavy on his eyelids, trying to pull him back under its spell. He brings a hand up to rub at his eyes as he carefully sits up, blanket falling to bunch around his lap.

Huh, he doesn’t remember grabbing a blanket last night.

Or a pillow for that matter.

He doesn’t actually even remember falling asleep. He must’ve dozed off when Eddie was putting Chris to bed and then Eddie must’ve slipped a pillow under his head and gotten him a blanket. The thought of Eddie taking care of him like that has warmth swirling in his belly.

“I’m up. Where’s the fire?” He shifts around a little, mindful not to jostle his leg too much. Even though it’s in a brace, one decent bump can still hurt and he’d like to avoid any more pain if he can.

“Dads not cooking so there’s no fire” Chris replies nonchalantly.

“Hey!” An offended squawk sounds from somewhere behind him, Buck turning to find Eddie leaning against the door frame trying to look insulted, but the big fond smile on his face is his downfall.

Chris giggles. “We’re going out for pancakes!” He says excitedly, blue eyes alight with joy.

Buck looks to Eddie for a bit more information, but Eddie simply shrugs. “Better get dressed or Chris will drag you there as is.” And then he’s pushing off of the door frame and walking away, calling out over his shoulder. “We’re leaving in ten!”

Buck turns back to Chris who is looking at him expectedly. “Suppose I best get up then, don’t want to miss out on pancakes.”

Chris claps his hands in excitement as Buck gets off the lounge, hobbling on one foot until he can grab his crutches. He heads to Eddie’s room to change since he doesn’t have any clothes of his own, having not planned on staying the night. He borrows a hoodie and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts that slip easily over the brace before hobbling out on his crutches to meet the Diaz boys at the door.

Eddie does a double take when Buck comes out, his eyes slowly mapping out Buck’s body before finding his face. Eddie licks his lips and subtly shifts on his feet, Buck suddenly feeling self conscious. He nervously fiddles with the sleeves on the hoodie.

“Uh- I hope you don’t mind that I- that I borrowed some clothes?”

“No, I don’t- don’t mind at all. They uh- you look- yep.” Eddie stammers out, a subtle blush blooming on his cheeks. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go eat some pancakes”

Hope this helps tide you over @smilingbuckley 😘

No pressure tagging: @spotsandsocks @devirnis @diazsdimples @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @madneywedding @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @fiona-fififi @dangerpronebuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @hawaiianlove808 @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @king-buckley @neverevan @bekkachaos @captain-hen @steadfastsaturnsrings @fortheloveofbuddie and as always, anyone who has something they want to share, consider this your official tag 🏷️

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐀

hello everyone! i've finally decided to join the fics for gaza project! i'm not sure if anyone would be even interested in sponsoring a wip of mine and i'm a little preoccupied irl rn, but i want to try contributing a little after all.

below, i'm listing some of the fics i'm currently working on or plan/ want to work on. you have the option to sponsor a wip at the rate of $1 donation per 100 words. if you want to sponsor more that is very welcome but not necessary! see below the fics for more notes on the process.

updated: 28th may

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐒

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓

Needles(s) to say, I love you [Modern AU] : Piercer! Xiao x Reader

Everyone with piercings knows, you always come back for more; but this time you might have found a different reason to return again

estimated wc: ~3k

donated wc: 0/ 3,000

progress tracker: 0/ 3,000

Spider-Man AU: Childe x Reader

You’ve had a crush on Ajax basically since the first day of college. He’s funny and witty, surprisingly smart for his jock aesthetic and -let’s face it- very hot. All of which is contrasted by the way he fumbles through a conversation with you, an air of clumsy yet innocent charm about him. And then you’re walking home late at night. An arguably questionable decision that ends with you coming face to face with a criminal you’ve seen on tv before. But just as you’re contemplating your options, your heart leaping out of your chest, you’re being swooped up and into the strong chest of the uprising hero people have been whispering about in the hallways.

estimated wc: ~3k

donated wc: 0/ 3,000

progress tracker: 0/ 3,000

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

A Twisted Pokémon AU: Twisted Wonderland x Pokémon Crossover

Welcome to Night Raven College! The students gathered here have all been chosen for their outstanding talents where Pokémon are involved, be that battling, researching or developing useful gadgets. I can say with reasonable certainty they are the nation’s elite! But first things first, what would your name be?

estimated wc: ~10k (i'm being conservative with this)

donation goal: ~ 3k

donated wc: 1,000/ 3,000

progress tracker: 1,040/ 10,000

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔!!

Isekai AU: Atsumu x Reader

“If she has to marry that stuck up prince, I will self-actualise into the novel and prevent it from happening,” is what you told your friend. When you wake up the next day, you find yourself in the comfortable bed of a royal -from the story! Turns out the plot did mean for the leading lady to end up with the arrogant prince and you have to let actions follow your words. Can you make good on your promise?

estimated wc: ~20k

donation goal: ~3k

donated wc: 0/3,000

progress tracker: 10,000/ 20,000

𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀

Android Shouto AU: Shouto x Reader

An Android opening shop next to yours is not a cause for any kind of concern, even if this model does not appear to be of the typical mechanic series. It’s intriguing to say the least, especially when he does things you are sure are not part of his programming.

estimated wc: ~3k

donated wc: 0/ 3,000

progress tracker: 0/ 3,000

Barbarian Bakugo AU: Bakugo x Reader

Let this story serve as a cautionary tale for those who are so sure of themselves that they do not bother to check the path they’re treading on. Yes, not all those who wander the forest are lost, but some run the risk of becoming it.

estimated wc: ~3k

donation goal: 2k

donated wc: 0/ 2,000

progress tracker: 1,240/ 3,000

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Rate $1 donation per 100 words, of course any extra is much appreciated but totally not necessary!

How to participate (readers):

Pick a fic you'd like to sponsor; you're also welcome to check out the other writers participating!

Send me an ask witht the wip you'd like to sponsor and a screenshot of your donation to any fund from this list or a (verified) charity of your choice.

Make sure your personal information is not contained within the screenshot you sent me, as I will be sending the proof of your donation to @ficsforgaza (please do not send the same proof to multiple authors); I won't publish your ask.

What I'll do:

I'll work on the fics to the best of my abilities (though I have irl responsibilities that need to be done too)

I'll log my progress towards the donation goal as soon as possible; if I haven't updated the donated wc in 3 days, you can remind me to do that.

I'll keep the liberty to upload the sponsored wips as I see fit. So I might not post the actual thing until the one-shot, chapter or project is completed (though ofc I will try my best to finish everything in a timely manner)

Further Notes:

If you have any questions towards the process or the wips, feel free to ask!

I've never done anything like this, so I'm learning as I go!

I tried to pick a handful of wips from different fandoms for variety. Though I certainly have so many more, these are the ones I could see myself working on/ am already working on.

For the higher word counts, I added a donation goal so it's less overwhelming!

Thank you in advance for your support!! Whether it’s by donating to me or other writers or spreading the word by reblogging or sharing the project with friends, it’s much appreciated!! <3

[ghost-buddies]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ….

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which your ex, Gojo Satoru, shows up at your favorite restaurant's front door.

ɢʜᴏsᴛ ɪɴɢʀᴇᴅɪᴇɴᴛs. The tiniest bit of angst (sorry, sorry) :: fluff :: comfort :: self indulgent :: sfw :: cursing

ʟᴏsᴛ sᴘɪʀɪᴛs. Gojo Satoru :: Ieiri Shoko :: mentions of Masamichi Yaga :: a lil Mei Mei moment

ɢʜᴏsᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇs. Thanks for all the support lovies! Here's the long awaited part 2 to this madness. I feel like after the whole bombshell that is chapter 261 we need some comfort. thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented for a second part, hope you guys like this! Tagslist is always open too, comment to join!

ᴛᴀɢsʟɪsᴛ. @azure-xvi, @hojoslutoru

Shoko sighs, her energy drained. Not only did she drag the one and only Gojo Satoru halfway across Tokyo, but she had to stop his drunkenness, make sure he wouldn't wake up with hangover, and call Yaga to let him know that no, Gojo wouldn't be able to exorcise any curses later today. All at three in the morning.

She looks in her hospital mirror. Eyes groggy as ever. Purple eyebags even more pronounced. Looking at the time - 2:54 pm - she whips out a fresh cigarette and begins her descent to the hostpital courtyard.

Time for a smoke break, she thought. Hopefully Gojo would leave her alone today---

Her phone buzzes, ringtone seemingly louder than necessary. Rolling her eyes, she looks at the caller. Speak of the devil.

"Shoko shoko shoko help--" Gojo's garbled voice whines. "I have my date with y/n in a few minutes."

Shoko's silent for a little bit, then laughs. "Then why aren't you getting ready, loverboy? Haven't you just gotten her back--"

"Shooooooooo!! First - don't call me that - but that's not the point, I don't know what to wear! Do I go formal? Informal?" He groans right into the speaker. "Why is it so hard being filthy rich??"

"You know her. Just wear something she'd like." Shoko's finger nears the end call button. She's going to treasure this smoke break, she just needs to end the damn call--

"Shoko don't you dare--"

BEEP. Call ended. Shoko can practically hear the dramatic cry Gojo lets out from the dorms. She smiles wryly.

Meanwhile, you're waiting at your favorite restaurant for your ex - was he even your ex now? - to arrive. But there doesn't seem to be any sign of him near. He wouldn't stand you up, right? Right?

It was a mistake calling to Mei Mei.

"Is Gojo there yet?" her voice drawls. "Pfft. This is cruel. Gojo really does fumble easily." a pause. "Hmm, how sad."

You sigh into your palms. "Mei Mei, you're not helping. He's usually late anyways. I shouldn't have arrived so early."

"A bet could make this interesting."

"I'm listening." Mei Mei and you had been making bets for as long as your friendship. It seems that you're the only person anyone knows who could actually win one against her.

"If he does stand you up, you need to give me... ten thousand yen. If not, I'll give you the money."

"Someone has to have a little faith in him. Fuck it, I'll take that bet."

But even after your phone call ends - fifteen minutes later - there's still no Satoru in sight. You begin getting antsy. The customers around you begin looking at you, pitying. The waitress even gives you a free appetizer, frowning at the empty seat across from you.

The bell at the front door chimes. You don't even bother looking up, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. A shadow falls over you, and you frown, moving your gaze skyward. White hair mussed, Gojo Satoru above you heaving, slightly out of breath. You break into a relieved smile. He offers you a nervous smile. "H-hey. Sorry for being I'm late."

You see the waitress grinning at you.

--

You're laughing. Head thrown back, giggles interrupting every word you attempt to utter. Satoru's leaning back in his chair, grinning like a fool.

"And I was practically begging for her help! My closet was a mess! And she hung up on me---" Satoru takes a sip of his extra-sugary drink--- "and somehow expected me to not go crazy! I know! Terrible! I told her. 'Shoko, don't you dare!' but she still hung up!"

You almost fall over your chair, clutching your stomach and falling into another peal of laughter. He chuckles too. It's a good thing that he has his blindfold on. If he didn't, everyone in the damn country would see the blatant heart-eyes he held for you.

When your laughter finally subsides, plates cleared and tummies full, you both lean over the small table.

Like moths to a flame, you think. Or magnets. Why did you break up again?

"I missed this," both of you utter at the same time. One still slightly nervous, not wanting to mess things up. The other, a little out of breath, flustered.

He leans over and kisses you, and you melt against him.

--

Your newly re-official boyfriend Satoru drops you off at your home and heads back to his dorm at Jujutsu High. His smile never leaves his face.

--

"Dammit! I knew he was too down bad for you to actually stand you up!" Mei Mei's anguished voice crackles through the phone. You giggle.

[jethought-s]

The chronological order will be this: for me, the episode will open with Buck and the rat at dinner, then he will get the phone call from Eddie/Chris and OBVIOUSLY, WITHOUT ANY DOUBT OR HESITATION, he will drop the rat there and go to them. Then I think he will get the call informing him about Bobby and from there they will go to the hospital together.

Also because come on seriously, aside from those crazy psycho BuckRat shippers, does anyone really think that Buck with the mess between Eddie and Chris and Bobby in a coma is going to be planning romantic dinners with a guy he has dated 3 times? There would be nothing more ooc in the history of television (although a very small doubt I have, given the lighting in the stills, but I don't want to believe it).

For the rest I honestly don't know. Everything points to Chris leaving with his grandparents, but I really can't believe he would leave not only Eddie but also Buck after his biggest trauma is being abandoned by the people he loves. It's also true that he saw his dead mother's doppelganger kissing your father, I certainly wouldn't blame him for his reaction of wanting to move away.

(Another thing, I think the fandom got the theory right about the Madneys somehow getting custody of Mara so that she can have a family and be with them too)

OH GOD WHEN IS THE EPISODE COMING? I WANT TO KNOW, I NEED TO KNOW.

The problem is that I never got it right with any theory, so I may have it all wrong😅 Does anyone have any ideas? I don't know what to think anymore💀

[takerfoxx]

Okay, finished up season 1 of Chaos Theory. And as you might imagine, I have THOUGHTS!

Non-spoiler review: it's really good.

Spoiler review...

Damn.

Like, this was actually great. Sure, I clown on the Jurassic World movies for being shit and have done so for nearly a decade now, but if this is the sort of content that spins off from them, then by all means, keep making those shitty movies. Of course it's not perfect, there's things to nitpick, but that's true of just about everything.

Okay, lots to talk about, so let's go into things bit by bit. Starting with...

Brooklynn!

Yeah, of course she's not dead. Like, did anyone honestly think that there was the slightest possibility that they would actually kill off one of the campers like that? As soon as I heard "Brooklynn's dead," my thought was, "Lol, no she isn't. She'll be dramatically revealed to be still alive in the final scene." And wouldn't just know it!

Still, there is a lot to discuss with her. We all know that she isn't really working for Mantah Corp or the Broker (more on them later), and is probably doing her investigative journalist thing to try to bring down the dino black market thing from inside, and was prodding Daniel Kon for information, and all that jazz. I imagine that this will get expanded on in the next season. However, I didn't see her losing a hand coming. So, she didn't deliberately fake her death. I guess she barely got away after the Allosaur or maybe the raptors bit her hand off and Ronnie found her and rescued her, and now she's in hiding.

However, just because she's not dead doesn't mean that she didn't die. And by that I mean her friends (and I presume family) all genuinely believe that she really did die, and have had to deal with the grief and trauma and try to process it in their own ways.

And honestly, that's what I loved the most about this season, how frankly and maturely it tackles the topic of grief and trauma. It's clear that everyone was deeply affected by losing Brooklynn, and I love how seriously this show takes things.

Darius.

Starting with our man, Darius is very much not okay. Well, none of them are, but he's definitely taking the atoner route to dealing with his grief. He feels immense guilt for not being there for her and blames himself for her death, so he quits his job and throws himself into hunting down the Allosaur as a way of redemption. He doesn't talk to his family unless they actually manage to get him on the phone, he doesn't talk to the other campers, but he does call Brooklynn's cell phone on the regular just to hear her voice as a way of coping. Like, usually the leader-type main character is supposed to be the one with his shit together, so I love that the show allowed him to be shown in such a vulnerable state.

Ben

Goddamn, Big Ben is right. Talk about the shooting up like a fucking palm tree.

Anyway, it's fitting that the boy who was raised to fear everything would transfer fall deep into paranoia and conspiracy theories as his own way of coping. Like, sure, he overcame the fears he had at the start of Camp Cretaceous, but that sort of ingrained behavior doesn't go away. And sure, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that they aren't out to get you, and he is right, but the show also take time to show that it is still an unhealthy way of coping, with him jumping at shadows and being convinced that everyone is in on the conspiracy, even going so far as to suspect Sammy.

As for the girlfriend in Europe thing, this might be just a set-up for a joke where she get revealed as being real (maybe the ship will take them to her or something), but a lot of people are justifiably calling bullshit (notice that we never get any details about her?), and, like in the last show, suspecting that he's actually gay. And yeah, I definitely see it too, and wouldn't be surprised. That being said, part of me is actually kind of, sort of hoping that we get Ace Ben instead.

Look, as someone on the aro-spectrum (not exactly ace, but it is related) and has sarcastically made up girlfriends in the past just to get my family to get off of my back, it would be nice to have some more characters like that, though I do see how that would be harder to portray than someone who's gay.

Okay, moving on.

Kenji

It's funny that a character that I was actively hoping would get eaten when I first started Camp Cretaceous because of what an annoying douche he was has now evolved into my favorite. Hmmm, someone with father issues who struggles with resentment and feelings of betrayal. I wonder why I empathize?

It's obvious that despite breaking free from Daniel, Kenji still feels the need to prove himself to him, even in a negative way, hence the whole rock climbing business. And honestly, I don't blame him for being mad at Darius. And you know what? I'm so glad that the show made it so he was the one who broke up with Brooklynn and not the other way around. Teen dramas like this usually have one character who's the designated "wrong one" who has to learn the lesson over and over again, and given that he started off as an arrogant jerk who needed to be humbled, it would have been easy to lock him in that roll, but no, he was allowed to fully mature and become sort of the moral voice of the group, with Brooklynn being the one who let him down. Granted, she was probably preoccupied with her dino smuggling investigation, but even so, I'm glad that they didn't do the lazy thing and have Kenji be the one who's always wrong.

And dear God, that scene after Daniel's death where he just breaks down on the side of the road? Magnificent. In...a really tragic sort of way. Like, what a naked expression of grief. He knew that his father was a terrible person who he tried so hard to escape from, but that didn't change the fact that it was his father, who he spent his entire childhood looking up to!

Now, about the love triangle thing between him, Darius, and Brooklynn, I admit I'm not too hot on that, mainly because I hate love triangles. But it does sort of make sense for Darius to develop feelings for Brooklynn, and she and Kenji had been broken up already, and it's an interesting take to have the person that the other two desire actually be "dead" already, so instead of them competing over her, it's more about these two friends who fell apart coming to terms with their very complicated feelings regarding her and each other. It's a fresh take on a tired cliche.

Sammy

If Darius is guilt-ridden, Ben paranoid, and Kenji resentful, Sammy is in straight-up denial, relying on toxic positivity and endless distractions to keep herself from falling apart. Her abandonment issues are in full force, not only with Brooklynn's death, but also growing apart from Yaz and not knowing why, and I also noted that her parents are nowhere to be seen. It may be nothing, but a queer girl in rural Texas? You kind of know how that tends to go. She is someone who will go to great, sometimes morally ambiguous lengths to keep her family together, but now it's falling apart around her, and she feels helpless to do anything about it.

Yazmina

Leave it to Yaz to be the one to say, "Hey, I'm heavily traumatized! I'm going to get therapy!" And you know what? Another thing I really like about this show is that it goes more into depth on what the world would be like if dinosaurs are suddenly on the loose everywhere, even more than Dominion did. Like, there's one blocking a gas station. There's a shitty Tiger King tourist trap with poorly taken care of dinosaurs. And there's a therapy compound for people traumatized by dinosaurs.

And Yaz, someone who really struggles with fear and self-esteem, is not only there for her own sake, but also working on projects to help others with the hologram thingie. I guess her injuries on the island meant that running wasn't really feasible anymore, so she found a new calling.

As for her and Sammy, okay, I am so glad that they didn't drag out the issues between them and instead got the fight out early. And I love how it was handled. Like, neither of them were really the bad guy or the innocent one, they both made mistakes but had understandable reasons for making them. Like, Sammy can be a bit...much, and after losing Brooklynn, it makes sense that she would get really clingy and smothering, which Yasmina did not need. But by the same token, she did sort of cut Sammy out of her life and left her to spiral. It's a very human approach to them having relationship problems.

Bumpy

Okay, just putting this here because Bumpy is best girl, and she now is a mother. Lol. We're definitely getting baby Speckles in a season or two. But do my eyes deceive me, or was Speckles one of the eggs that Jensen had?

The Atricoraptor Handler

Okay, I really want to talk about her, because, my queen!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, she's meant to be creepy and threatening. Uncanny valley, never blinks, never speaks above a whisper, heartless killer, I get it. She's a bad guy.

I still love her.

Why? Well, I know it's not exactly a deliberate or positive take, but they kind of, sort of ended up with an autistic-coded character who loves raptors. I can't help but connect.

But yeah, most of show, I was scared of her like everyone else. She's just so...off, and so intimidating. But then we get to that last scene, when she's about to sic her raptors on the campers again, only to notice how injured and fatigued they are, and instead decides to call off the attack for their sake (the raptors, I mean. Not the campers), and even comforts the one closest to her. And that's when she won me over.

Look, as much as I love JP, it really rankles me how the raptors always seem to become disposable mooks. I love raptors, and feel that they deserve more. Like, does no one remember the raptor nest scene from the original book? All the other dinosaurs often get sympathetic portrayals, even the carnivores, so why are raptors, which canonically are intelligent creatures with complex family units, often just end up as serial killers with claws to be exterminated? As much as I bash the JW movies, the one thing I do love is Blue, and even she had her siblings all wiped out!

So, throughout the finale, I knew the campers would be okay, but I kept saying, "Don't kill the raptors. You're gonna kill the raptors, aren't you? Please don't kill the raptors." And then it looked like the Rex did kill them, and I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.

But then they turn up alive and the Handler just shows them that sort of affection? My QUEEN! Yes!

Yes, I know she's still evil, but no one else is doing it!

Now, is she a raptor/dinosaur hybrid? A robot? Just sort of like that? I'm hoping that she's just a weird human who raises raptors, but a human/dinosaur hybrid has nearly popped up in the scripts, and human clones are canon, so who knows?

The Broker

Let's face it: the Broker is probably either Dodgson or someone who works for him. We finally got him in the final season of Camp Cretaceous, and since this show takes place right before Dominion, it makes sense that BioSyn would be behind everything. It's the only established character that makes sense.

Though, hey, wouldn't it be crazy if it ended up being Ian Malcolm as part of his cover? Ain't gonna happen, of course. But it would be really funny.

So yeah, really good show, ranks up there on the list of my favorite JP things, can't wait for the next season.

[666writingcafe]

Yikes

Author's Note: So basically the first two parts of this rewrite are me setting up a bit of backstory, since I didn't think MC randomly being transported into the past made much sense. After all, I'm trying to create one cohesive story out of the existing content from the original Obey Me game and its Nightbringer spinoff.

The fact that we actually managed to spend some time downtown without our plan going sideways is a feat within itself. If I was with anyone else, we would have been on Plan E by now, and that's on a good day.

But then I happen to notice the back of someone's head and thought their ombre hair looked rather familiar. Stupidly, I ask Solomon to confirm my suspicions, and rather than verbally answer me, he walks up to them and taps them on the shoulder. They whip around, revealing themselves to be exactly who I thought they were.

And now she's got him backed against an alley wall with a dagger pressed against his throat.

"Who are you, and what have you done to my Solomon?" Thirteen hisses. I've only met her once before, but I figured that she would have this kind of reaction. After all, she is a reaper; I'm sure she's able to tell the age of someone's soul simply by looking at them, and no amount of illusion is going to hide that reality from her.

"I promise I can explain," Solomon gasps. "Just...could you possibly let me breathe?" Thirteen narrows her eyes but nevertheless takes a step back, making sure her dagger is still visible as she crosses her arms.

"Thanks," he responds, his voice sounding less hoarse. "The simple answer is that we're from a future timeline. We're here to gather information so that we're able to help someone back home." Thirteen glances at me, but then does a double take as her eyes widen.

"I know you," she tells me. "You've been popping in and out of my cave recently."

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," I meekly reply.

"Of course you wouldn't. I haven't seen you before." I'm confused. She just contradicted herself.

"Then how--"

"The soul," Thirteen interrupts. "It's this bright white light that's been dancing around different parts of my cave. I've heard it whispering, but it was always out of reach, and every time I would try to get closer to hear it better, it would always fly off somewhere." She pauses. "Question is, what is it doing inside a demon?"

"It's a disguise," Solomon answers.

"I wasn't talking to you," Thirteen snaps at him. "So you'd best keep your mouth shut until I'm ready to speak to you again. As it is, you're incredibly lucky I haven't just gone ahead and slit your throat already." I knew she was feisty, but damn. Didn't expect her to threaten Solomon's life.

"Hold out your hand," she instructs, focusing her attention back on me. Not wanting to upset her any more, I do as she asks, and she sandwiches it between her own hands.

"Now, look into my eyes."

"You're not going to charm me, are you?" The dumb question escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

"What? No! I mean, not that you're not attractive, but that's not why I'm doing this. I need to take a better look at your soul, and that's best done through skin-to-skin contact."

"Oh." For a few moments, I find myself magically drowning in Thirteen's eyes as she does whatever she's doing to examine my soul. What is she trying to find in there, anyway?

She suddenly lets go of my hand, stepping away from me.

"Well, that explains that," she murmurs before clearing her throat. "Alright. I believe you, Solomon." He breathes a sigh of relief.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable," she warns him. "If you've retained any of your old habits, I might just have to set a trap or two on you to teach you a lesson."

"Understood." There's a slight smirk on his face. Does he not think that she'll follow through on her threat? A slight blush dusts Thirteen's cheeks as she guides us out of the alley and back onto the street. I would question it, but I don't want to set her off again, so I just keep my mouth shut.

"About a month ago, the Prince put an ad in all the local newspapers," Thirteen states to Solomon as we're walking. "He's looking for an attendant to help six fallen angels and a freshly-born demon settle into life in the Devildom. He's held auditions, but all of them have ended in disaster. Based on what I saw, your friend here would be perfect for the job."

"Is that where we're going now?" Solomon asks.

"Yes. Although when we get there, I need to have a few words with him and his butler first. They need to understand the situation." She turns her head towards me. "By the way, what's the deal with the two names? Your birth name would have been just fine in your current form."

"I didn't think it would fit a demon," I quietly answer, surprised that she dug that bit of information out of my soul. "Plus, I thought that it would be confusing to have two MCs exist in history."

"Fair enough. So, MC in private, Zephyr in public?" I nod my head, and Thirteen reaches down and grabs my hand.

"It's alright," she whispers. "There's no need to be nervous. I'll make sure you don't get in trouble. Just focus on getting the position, okay?"

"What did you see?" I ask her quietly, curious about what looking into my soul revealed to her.

"Enough to tell me that you're a good person who's helped these guys once before."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[mollyollypuddingpolly]

I found this little jellycat plush at a thrift store yesterday for 85 cents! I immediately fell in love with him but I was definitely shocked to look him up to see he is Fergus Frog, a pretty rare and sought after little guy (fully understand why he is so popular, look at that little face) but I saw people selling him on ebay for like $400 - $800?? I know next to nothing about collecting Jellycats, but is that actually a realistic price for him?

I also saw he was a retired toy who was recently brought back for a limited time, I'm assuming this guy is from before he was retired though, because I don't see why anyone would donate it so soon. I do wonder if there is anyway to tell the difference?

I don't plan to sell him, though. I feel like I got really lucky to find him, and I'm already too attached to him to let him go!

[dutybcrne]

Thinkings thinkings of Fatui!Kaeya have been reawakened in reviewing Arle's teasers/animations

[kraviolis]

im glad belos got what he deserved and is actually fully gone for good and wont ever hurt anyone ever again, but its also really funny and fascinating to think about shoving luz and ghost-belos into a locked room together where neither of them can physically harm each other and just force them to have an actual honest conversation for once

[kindaorangey]

if you held a gun to tatsuya endo's head to prevent him from writing franky as a creep for 5 minutes i think there could be a lot of potential in franky and yor interactions

[brittlebutch]

the only thing i don't like about 'Alex should have asked for help' AUs/theories is that they all seem to have the base assumption that we actually Know Anything about The Operator, and the fact of the matter is that we simply Don't.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i went through this account’s handful of videos from this show, and i’m pretty confident that’s will roland, next to harrison chad as quince, despite the view being mostly obstructed from the angle this whole time. he’s Most Visible for a moment at the very end lol. since the costuming is just a buttonup and tie w/no especial “it’s This character, or Any character” cues, i’ll guess he’s “will roland” at this point, though that doesn’t mean he wasn’t appearing in some other capacity earlier. every pre-2018 xmas wrole cited in that tweet has been accounted for, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been some of those characters more than once, as is definitely true for uncle peenie appearances

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[xan-from-space]

Senshi is probably the most fandomized character in Dungeon Meshi, and while I don't exactly mind it, I do think he has more depth than that. I find all his little quirks and idiosyncrasies to be fascinating; he's very stubborn and set in his ways about things that seemingly don't matter, he thinks about things that other people don't, he has a deeply set value system that informs everything he does. He cares A Lot, like, this man cares So Much. That's the kind of person you have to be to drop everything to help a random group of adventurers save one woman. But because he feels so strongly about things, he can also be surprisingly immature at times (although he's also the character most likely to admit he was wrong about something). I think part of that is because he's lived in the dungeon on his own so long that he's not used to working with other people. He will extend empathy and friendship to almost anyone, but he does things his own way, and he doesn’t always feel the need to explain his way of thinking because again, he's usually on his own. He's both incredibly wise and kind of childish in ways that seem contradictory at first, but make more and more sense the more we learn about him. Major kudos to Ryoko Kui's writing and pacing to make that transition so seamless and have all those details from his backstory click into place perfectly. And on a wider thematic level, Senshi is kind of a perfect counterpart to characters like Thistle (or any other dungeon lord). Senshi understands the dungeon in ways that even its creator doesn't. Although everyone is scrambling to take control of the dungeon, Senshi is the one who actually takes care of it. He's the one who thinks about things like nutrition and proper sleep and the ecosystem, all those things that it's easy to ignore when you get swept up by the grandeur of it all. He's the most important character to have present in a story that explores life and death and hunger. His constant, invisible presence holds everything together.

[luminnara]

Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.