#I know I know symbolism or whatever it’s still a lie

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Looked up Tarrare because of the poll I just rb’d (the ‘if you could have 100% answers to any mystery in history’ one) and like. That’s just the short story we read in English this past school year. Like exactly. And apparently the guy who wrote the story never said anything like “oh this thing inspired me” or nothing?? Like it’s just completely unrelated?

[clockwayswrites]

I should maybe make a masterpost for this too.... but so tired... just... use the tag for now... yes? yes Masterpost

Conner pulled out his phone, fumbling a little since he was using his left hand. His right hand was still holding Danny’s. (He ignored Danny shooting their hands a confused look.) “Okay, this one is coffee shop and Cafe. Sandwiches sound good?” “What? Oh, yeah, sandwiches are always good,” Danny said after a moment. “Lead the way.” “Cool.” Conner glanced at the map before pocketing his phone. “Have you looked over the subjects that we can pick for the project?” “Yeah, a little,” Danny said, easily going with the change in topic. “I’ve warned you that I’m not good at English, right? So, like, we really should go with whatever you want to do because you’re going to have better instincts about this one than I will.” Conner hummed. “I don’t know if poetry really counts as, you know, normal English class work.” “That makes it even worse!” Danny said. He tossed his hands up, raising their joined hands with the motion. Conner didn’t try to hide his crooked little smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah. Like okay, with normal English work you can throw in some so-and-so is a Christ like symbol or the blue sea is sadness or some shit like that and at least get points but with poetry—I just, that stuff is even more removed! It’s like… you know what it’s like? It’s like a metaphor turducken. A recklessly deep fried metaphor turducken that set the lawn on fire and now the there’s a firetruck there and the police are talking to your dad again and the whole neighborhood is watching and you’re just wondering if you should get a geiger counter because the fryer your dad rigged is glowing suspiciously and it would be really bad if any layer of the turducken came back to life and attacked someone!” “Wow,” Conner said after a beat. He was trying hard not to laugh. “Just, wow. Not going to lie, I’m concerned about how specific that scenario is.”

[emepe]

— Pairing: Yuuta x Reader, established relationship

— General info: 18+, one-shot, smut

— Summary: When it comes to Yuuta, “just the tip” is the start of a dangerous game.

— Content warnings: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, virginity loss, implied religious guilt, mild god complex if you squint, coercion, slight breeding kink.

— Notes: Honestly, I wrote this just to see if I could still write decent smut (and Yuuta fits the trope perfectly ugh, I can't lie). Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading! 

Links: Read on AO3 |  Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You promised each other you would wait. But an innocent kiss on the cheek while watching TV led to a sloppy makeout session on the sofa, with your legs on either side of Yuuta's lap and your clothed cunt grinding needily onto his crotch as his fingers crept under your shirt and dug into your waist. 

A whine escapes your lips when he involuntarily thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you halfway, desperate for further friction.

“My God, Yuu,” you moan into his mouth, as your combined drool trickles down your chin.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, yet makes no effort to hold back. Because little by little, with every movement of your hips, his erection has become downright painful. It's practically throbbing in the confines of his jeans, swollen and red, aching to be let out, begging for relief.

But he promised.

It's a mental game to come down to his senses and draw an end when things get too heated between you. God knows you haven't one ounce of willpower when you're spiraling down a lustful haze. But he'd rather be the stronger one than risk the loss of your virtue ending in remorse. 

He loves you too much to force you to carry such an immense guilt. You vowed to wait until you were married and instead settled for a few steamy moments here and there — always sure you never made it too far.

You could hump and whine and he'd swallow every sweet sigh you pour into his mouth — as long as you never fully undressed and as long as he didn't ruin you by pushing himself between your legs. Then he'll wrap his arms around you, assuring you that whatever you did was still innocent, that you have no reason to feel guilty because you're both still pure. 

The vicious cycle never ends. 

You're incredibly precious to him — you're everything — but man, it really pisses him off sometimes that he has to be the one to protect a promise you were the first to suggest.

He brings a hand to collect your hair and nip at your neck, kissing it, tracing its slope with his tongue and sucking fervently at the supple skin. As if that's enough, as if it could compare to the glowing promise that being buried inside you represents. His cock twitches at the thought, the movement causing you to expel another string of holy affirmations.

His eyes land on the hand that grips at the fabric of his shirt as you whimper into his ear and the air thickens with the scent of spit, sweat, and desire.

The engagement ring on your finger has become a symbol of dread. So close to having you bound to him forever, and yet the time couldn't come fast enough.

His chest rises and falls dramatically with every shallow breath. It's all too much — the blood rushing south, the precum he can feel leaking from his tip and soiling his underwear, the line of sweat that transfers from your forehead to his as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe against his mouth — it's all too good. 

But it's not enough.

He's tired of it, and you're not making things easier with your pathetic whimpers and your feverish body clinging to him. He can feel your pussy clenching around nothing through the layers of clothing dividing you. If he didn't know any better, he might’ve thought you wore a skirt on purpose to further drive him mad. He might be a patient man —loving, understanding, doting— but he's still a man.

“Just the tip,” he groans.

Your hips slow down as you struggle to comprehend what he just said, earning him a chance to will the cum threatening to spurt inside his jeans back.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head as you observe his blown pupils and his eyebrows upturned in desperate pleading.

“Just the tip, please.” 

Your lips part to draw a sharp breath as it dawns on you what he's asking for.

“But we promised,” you softly pronounce.

“It won't change anything if it's just the tip,” he promises. “It's barely anything. It'll be like the time you used your hand.”

He hopes your mind is too dizzy to comprehend that the two situations don't compare at all. 

Uncertainty casts over your features, but he can see a hint of consideration gleaming in your eyes at the idea. 

You'd be lying if you said you never considered loosening up on your convictions every now and then when you got so close to the act. But you didn't think you could handle disappointing Yuuta by breaking the promise you brought up in the first place. After all, he's so devoted to you and he promised to abide by your wishes no matter how long it took because the gratification when you finally joined in carnal pleasure would only make your commitment to each other all the more special. 

“As long as I get to be with you, the rest doesn't matter,” was what he said.

But now that he's looking up at you with such helpless eyes, like you're some sort of god he prays to, your morals take a toll.

His blue eyes stare adoringly into yours. 

“Please?” he asks again.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he insists, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a whisper of pain before alleviating the feeling with his tongue.

“Please, please, please, it hurts,” he whines, tears lining his lashes and threatening to spill as he reaches between you to palm himself over his jeans. “I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I need you, I love you.”

How could you possibly say no when he asks so nicely? 

You'd have to be made of stone to deny him the pleasure. You'd have to be a monster to not relieve him of his throbbing pain. You'd have to be the cruelest god to impose him with such inhumane punishment.

“Yuu,” you whisper, his pain reflecting on your face upon witnessing his desperation. 

“Please,” he sniffles.

“Okay.”

The word falls over him like a fresh breeze.

“Really? You mean it?” 

His lips curve into an eager smile, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach in anticipation.

You nod, happy to see his teary eyes light up.

“Just the tip.”

“Just the tip, I promise.”

He brushes away at his tears with the heel of his palm.

“You're an angel,” he murmurs as he cradles your face with one hand and starts guiding your hips over his erection again with the other. 

Soon enough, you're back to panting into each other's mouths, feverish and dizzy at your new promise to fulfill. 

Your hands fumble to undo his jeans, clumsily pulling down the zipper in fragments.

“Just the tip,” you huff, as he moans upon feeling your clammy hands palm him through his underwear.

You pull on his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, in awe of the intense red that consumes the head of his cock. Precum oozes from the tip, balls heavy as if he's seconds away from bursting. It's no wonder he looked so pained. 

“Just the tip,” he reminds you kindly as he pets your hair, heart rate spiking when he watches your thumb trace over his leaking tip.

He flips you over so that you're pressed onto the sofa while he hovers over you and hooks his fingers around your pink cotton panties, tugging them down your hips with ease and tossing them onto the floor, leaving you in your skirt.

The sight of your bare cunt — already a sopping wet mess from everything that now counts as foreplay — makes his cock twitch.

With his weight balanced on one forearm, he carefully drags himself between your folds, the most sinful sound reaching your ears as he coats his length in your juices. His free hand cradles your face as he bends down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against yours, swallowing each of your moans as your hands lose themselves in his raven hair. 

With fingers trembling in excitement, he lets you go and starts lining himself to penetrate your insides.

“Yuu,” you gasp.

He watches in fascination as his reddened tip squeezes in and slowly disappears inside you, your cunt glistening with enough arousal that you barely feel any pain in the sudden stretch. In fact, Yuuta swears he can feel you suck him in the tiniest bit further as you flutter around the foreign member in your body. He can feel himself grow weaker as he's hit with the warmth and wetness of your insides. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, face dropping into the crook of your neck.

The overwhelming ecstasy of knowing he's connected to you burns at every inch of his skin as he scrambles to gather enough strength to pull out and push his tip back in again. 

You writhe under him, hands frantically pulling him in for a kiss. He complies. After all, you've gifted him with this — not that he wouldn't give in to your wishes otherwise. 

His brows furrow in concentration, eyes squeezed shut with the image of his tip swallowed by your insides flashing behind his eyelids. He pumps his head inside you — in and out, in and out — mesmerized by how good it feels even if it's barely a taste. 

It alleviates him… just a little.

He grips your hips with bruising force, rolling his hips further into you all at once, leaving a mildly burning sensation in its wake. 

A whine escapes your lips and your eyes close as you feel a tickle of his pubic hair brushing against your lower tummy. Your arms hook under his, bringing him close, scratching his back over his shirt.

An animalistic power washes over him, pushing him to penetrate the deepest part of you,  over and over again. His hand squeezes your face, demanding your attention and forcing you to meet his crazed gaze. His pupils are blown with lust, the gentle blue of his irises nearly gone. With the help of his thumb, he pries your mouth open, aggressively pushing his tongue against yours, relishing in the muffled cries of pleasure you release. 

The kiss is so needy, so aggressive, it's borderline painful and your jaw hurts from the tight grip of his hand. But it's still so fucking good.

When he pulls back, your eyes are lined with tears, much like his when he was begging to let you use just his tip minutes ago.

The sound of slapping skin echoes around you. Sloppy, wet, sinful.

“Yuuta, this doesn’t feel like just the tip,” you heave, feeling an unfamiliar knot tangling in your lower stomach. 

“It is, baby. I swear.”

You both know he's lying but you're too caught up in each other to care.

Your legs wrap around him, barely granting him enough space to move, but he doesn't care. This is better, this is what he needs to relieve the mild guilt that stems from lying to you, because this means you're just as thrilled by him ruining you as he is. And if you're so unwilling to ease your hold on him, he might as well kill two birds with one stone tonight and fill you to the brim with his cum.

The possibility of knocking you up has him reeling. A breathless laugh pushes past his lips as he looks down at you.

You're such a pretty mess and he's so in love. Your pussy does such a good job at sucking him in and he's so fucking drunk on it. 

The image of you sprawled below him, sweating and whining out his name will be burned into his memory forever. And you do have forever promised, he remembers. That ring on your finger — the very finger on the very hand that's creeping between your bodies to toy with your clit — stands as proof.

You perverted little thing, he thinks, as he feels you bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Yuuta, my god, oh my god!” you whimper as his strokes grow even sloppier and he grows even heavier on your body.

“Feel good, angel?” he taunts, using the nickname he imposed on you back before you became such a needy disaster.

An airy chuckle bubbles up his throat when you fervently nod and caress his cheek. He hooks an arm under your leg, pressing it further into your chest in a semi-mating press position. 

He carelessly thrusts his hips a few more times before he's washed over with a glorious relief that he pours inside you, marveling at the way your insides flutter around him, milking him dry with every wanton squeeze.

It's like you want to get knocked up, he thinks.

His hold on your leg loosens and his weight tumbles down on top of you as you work your way to clarity. 

He moves around on the limited space of the sofa so that you can snuggle into his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses soft kisses onto the crown of your head.

You can feel his cum leaking from your insides and seeping into the couch cushions, but it'll be a while before either of you care to clean up your mess.

His warm embrace coaxes you to sleep. As you're teetering the line of peaceful slumber, a familiar thought pops into your head.

“Yuuta,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“What we just did wasn't wrong, was it?”

He looks down at you, fingers lifting your chin so he can see your face. Your eyes are wide with worry. The duality with which you're able to confront these matters will forever be a mystery to him. 

His gaze softens and a smile graces his lips.

“Don't worry, angel. This was innocent.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It's pure love.”

Back to masterlist

[reixtsu]

Love And Luck Entwined - Aventurine x fem Reader

☁︎ Synopsis: You bought an aventurine stone necklace, much to your lover’s amusement. 🀥

☁︎ Genre: fluff (with some some making out in the end)

☁︎ Warnings: slight spice in the end… *ೃ༄

☁︎ Word count: 562

You should have expected that Aventurine would have noticed your aventurine stone necklace. His face was momentarily showing a rare expression of surprise, before he started teasing you, of course.

You started to wear an aventurine stone necklace everyday. Yes, part of the reason why you got the simple yet beautiful necklace is so that your lover, Aventurine, would always be with you one way or another. However, that was not the only reason.

"Aw! Has my cute darling missed me that much?" he teased, his magenta and cyan eyes raidianting a kind of alure that only made your heart flutter. Aventurine leaned closer to examine your necklace, his warm breath fanning your exposed neck as his slim, gloved finger carasted the outline of your necklace slowly. "I haven't been gone for long, have I?"

You huffed, trying your best to hide your flushed state as you fidgeted with the sides of your necklace. "Well, I didn't get this necklace because I missed you." What a lie.

Aventurine raised his eyebrows in amusement, smirking as he gave you a skeptical look. "You know princess, it's okay to admit that you miss me once in a while."

"But it really isn't why I got this necklace!" You tried to argue back, the heat in your cheeks only getting warmer. "I got this because... um... Aventurine stones symbolize luck and opportunity. Yes, that's why. I could use some luck once and a while."

Your response only made Aventurine laugh in amusement. "Oh? Don't you have me already though? I'm all of the luck you need, princess." You jumped slightly when you felt a hand slide onto your waist. When you met Aventurine's glaze, all you saw was a sly smirk.

"Well, what if you're not around!"

"My luck will still follow you," Aventurine kissed your forehead, only finding your antics cute. "How about I start wearing a rose quartz ring just for you?"

You looked at him in confusion. "Rose quartz?"

"It symbolizes unconditional love. Something that I know you have for me, princess." His gloved hand gently caressed the outline of your jaw before he leaned forwards for a kiss.

The kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration as both of your breaths seemed to be in sync. Your hands found their way to Aventurine's shoulders, curling slightly into his hair as if afraid to let go. Encouraged by the response, Aventurine deepened teh kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left in between you both.

The kiss grew more passionate. Your heart raced, matching the intensity of the kiss, as you melted in Aventurine's embrace. Time seemed to stand still, the world around fading away, leaving only the warmth and connection of love.

After a while, the both of you broke part, both breathness and eyes slightly glossy with passion. 

"Okay, maybe I did buy this necklace because I missed you a little. That's our little secret though, okay?' you whispered, nuzzling your face into the flush of his neck, giving it a small nibble.

A breathy moan escaped his lips as his grip on your waist tightened. "You can't fool me, princess. Your poker face still needs work though."

You kissed his cheek. "Whatever, gambler."

He chuckled, his laugh sparking butterflies in your stomach. "I love you so much, my rose quartz.”

Author’s note: During the time of Aventurine’s banner, I spent all of my money and stellar jades on him. Now I have him E6 with his light cone, and he is perfectly build. I love this man so much it’s an obsession.

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[rin-solo]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Edit: I actually updated this design somewhat significantly; if you're interested in the current one, check here! He still has a tentacle/monster form, but it's not his only one.

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

[rinnsverse]

yk I was hoping for fun silly bsf Damian right?? NOT WHATEVER THAT WAS 😭😭

(I would 100% love another post elaborating on this if you want to make one. I eat up bsf Damian content)

WHITE LIES — headcanons, damian w.

well i mean since you asked— here’s some elaboration on my small facts and crumbs of my bsf!damian saga, series, whatever

contains: bsf!damian x gn!reader, angst, definitely not fluff, mentions of murder/sacrifice but in a symbolic way

a/n: this goes against my own rules for this blog, but who the fucks gonna stop me? n e ways pls read the ending a/n 🫶

there isn’t much you know about bsf!damian’s parents relationship except that his dads a whore

what he has told you is that his mom raised him abroad which was why bruce seemed practically unaware or unknowing of his existence before then, which seems to check out since he only came into the public eye only 2 years ago

due to both of his parents living in separate countries with different laws and with him being a minor, it’s hard to deduce when and where he’s gonna be at times

bsf!damian told you that the agreement his parents settled upon was that his dad gets to keep him for the majority of the school year but goes to stay with his mom for the majority of the summer

however, his mom is allowed to spontaneously pick him up only a few times during his school year which doesn’t seem quite right on your part but apparently his moms also loaded and his dad can’t really do anything about it

of course, it’s merely a cover up whenever he has to go on missions that take longer than just a free weekend

it's a hard lie to keep up, but as time goes on it gets easier to keep up and even harder for you to try and decipher anything that could potentially be wrong with bsf!damian’s stories

it'll be worth it in the end, won't it?

he tries his best to not listen to you when you talk about yourself, the less he knows about you the easier it is deceive you and eventually cut you off

but he listens

it's middle school, why should he take anything that happens here seriously? that includes you, bsf!damian doesn't see himself continuing to talk to you three years from now and he highly doubts that possibility

so what if he secretly wants to know you for eternity and onwards? despite his life being full of wealth bsf!damian still can’t afford being able to keep you in it for long

bsf!damian could barely scrape by deceiving you with an overly elaborate tapestry of all of the lies he’s ever fed you, but it’s for the better

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

his wants weren’t needs, and both as an assassin and robin that rule applied — except this time around he placed the average civilian’s life over his own

the universe never seemed to allow bsf!damian enjoy things for long, for you were merely a civilian he wanted to be by his side, wanting for your lack of expectations on how to present himself, but he didn’t need it

but it was for the better, for your safety and everyone else’s so you would be away from all the danger and destruction bsf!damian never failed to bring with him

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

it has to be

it has to be worth something, anything, for bsf!damian’s time being by your side to be cut short by his own hands, because if it isn’t then he just wasted his only semblance as a normal teenager, a child, away

you had bsf!damian and bsf!damian had you, if he let go of that without your safety from the countless revenge plots and villains that had it out for him ensured then he didn’t make a sacrifice, he committed a murder

and that was something damian had sworn off

a/n: no, this wasn’t made out of the multiple asks and comments asking for more bsf!damian content, i had already had this in the works when i made my last post about holding off on updates so for the month this may be my last actual post on bsf!damian, for the month.

[philokaliist]

'Claimed By Wisdom'

Clarisse La Rue x DaughterOfAthena!Reader

A/N:Made this while in history class,enjoy.

What happens when Clarisse's unclaimed demigod gf gets claimed - Athena edition

Basically just how I think Clarisse would react when her gf gets claimed by Athena.Relatively a very short fic,part of Clarisse's reaction to her gf getting claimed.I think I'll do more parts-with different gods/goddesses eventually,but not sure.

A normal day at Camp Half-blood,right?Well,here she comes,Clarisse's mysterious and totally captivating demigod girlfriend,you.You've been low-key slaying monsters together,and the chemistry is off the charts.But you know how it goes, no godly parent, no claiming, and Clarisse is getting kinda frustrated about it. She's, like super mad and rants about it,constantly going like "Why won't the gods just claim my girl already?"

Then,one fateful day, it happens.And right during capture the flag too.Camp Half - Blood goes dead silent and Clarisse is, like, tense AF. But then,it happens - you are claimed as a child of Athena,the goddess of wisdom.You,her girlfriend,a whirlwind of untamed spirit - claimed by Athena of all gods.

Clarisse, with her scowl on full display, spots the whole thing and freezes.I swear, you could've heard a pin drop. She narrows her eyes at the symbol, then shoots Sherman a look,being like "Are you seeing this crap?"

But here's the kicker: instead of flipping out, Clarisse just smirks. I mean, seriously? Athena claiming her girl, and she smirks? That's some next - level confidence.

Later,when the two are alone,after the eventful and surprising game of capture the flag,she spills her thoughts like it's ambrosia.Clarisse takes a deep breath, a spark of determination flashing in her eyes. She strides forward, gripping your hand firmly,before speaking. "Look,you know my opinion on Athena,but..." she says,ephasizing the but - sharply - before she continues "...but if she thinks my girl's worthy, maybe there's more to her than I thought."

She goes on this rant about how Athena and Ares are like oil and water, but deep down, she's kind of impressed. "I guess you have some brains to go with that pretty face then." she mutters, still trying to wrap her head around it.

And get this – Clarisse might not be the biggest fan of Athena, but she's not about to let that ruin her moment. "Don't get too cocky now.We'll see if you can keep up with me in the next Capture the Flag." she challenges, grinning like she's ready to conquer Olympus by herself. "I may hate all of 'em Athena nerds - but you,for you I make an exception."

The camp may have a newfound member of cabin 6,but in you're still Clarisse's girlfriend at the end of the day.And no matter which god claims you,Clarisse is ready to help you face whatever challenges lie ahead - because true love - much like war, knows no boundaries.

A/N:This is like-random. Idk what's with this but yeah.

[imloyaltoscoups]

i'm ready | yoon jeonghan

After seven long years, you finally find yourself in a place of true peace and contentment. The journey to this point hasn't been easy - the scars of heartbreak and betrayal ran deep, and it took time to heal and rebuild yourself.

But you did it. You persevered through the nightmares, finding strength in your own resilience and determination. With each passing day, you focused on your own growth and development, pouring your energy into your studies and your personal pursuits.

Completing your PhD was a milestone, a testament to your dedication and perseverance. It wasn't just an academic achievement: it was a symbol of your triumph over adversity, a tangible reminder of how far you've come since the pain of your past.

Along the way, you learned valuable lessons about self-love and self-care. You realized the importance of prioritizing your own needs and desires, of carving out space for yourself in a world that often demands so much of us.

The first years were undoubtedly the hardest. You struggled to find your footing, grappling with the weight of your emotions and the uncertainty of starting over. You were cautious with those who approached, wary of opening yourself up to the possibility of hurt once again.

But with time, you learned to trust yourself again. You rediscovered your worth and your strength, and you refused to let the pain of your past define you. You learned to allocate love and care for yourself, recognizing that you are deserving of the same kindness and compassion that you so freely gave to others.

You pause mid-packing, taken aback by your friend's unexpected enthusiasm. They shake the ticket with excitement, their smile infectious despite your initial reluctance.

"Y/N!!! We're going to Koreaaaa!" they exclaim, their voice filled with enthusiasm.

You hesitate, the memories of your past trip to Korea still lingering in the corners of your mind. The thought of returning to the place where so much heartache had occurred fills you with a sense of apprehension.

But before you can voice your concerns, your friend speaks up again, their tone resolute. "You're okay now, right? So it's okay to visit that country again. And besides, who knows when we'll have the chance to see our friends first ever exhibit. If you're worried of bumping with that piece of shit. Don't worry—I'll give him a piece of my mind. Maybe even a punch and a chokeslam for good measure!... I should have been with you when you went there" she pouted.

Their words catch you off guard, but you can't help but laugh at their fierce loyalty. Despite your reservations, their unwavering support gives you a glimmer of courage.

"Alright," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "This is for our girl."

With a newfound sense of determination, you resume packing, knowing that this trip will be different from the last. Armed with the support of your friend and the strength you've gained from overcoming your past, you're ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And who knows? Maybe this time, Korea will hold new memories of joy and adventure, rather than pain and heartache.

As you arrive at the exhibit of your best friend, you're filled with a sense of pride and excitement. You rush forward and envelop her in a big hug, a smile spreading across your face.

"Congratulations queen, you did it!" you exclaim, squeezing her tightly. "I'm so proud of you for pursuing your dream of being an artist. Look at the crowd!"

She returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, her eyes shining with happiness. "Thank you so much! I couldn't have done it without you guys. You two kept on pushing me to do this and here we are."

She then shows you around the exhibit, pointing out each piece with pride, you can't help but marvel at her talent and creativity. Each painting tells a story, a reflection of her passion and dedication to her craft.

As you admire her work, she offers you two a glass of champagne, a gesture of celebration for this momentous occasion.

"Cheers to you and your incredible talent," you say, raising your glass in a toast. "May your art continue to inspire and captivate audiences around the world."

She clinks her glass against yours, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Thank you, and cheers to our friendship. I'm so grateful to have you two by my side."

Together, you three sip your champagne and continue to explore the exhibit, basking in the joy of this special moment shared between friends. And as you revel in the beauty of her art and the warmth of her friendship, you know that this is a memory you'll cherish for years to come.

Time pass by and your best friend excuses herself to greet other visitors, you nod understandingly, letting her immerse herself in the moment. Beside you, your other friend suddenly excuses herself to rushed off to the bathroom, leaving you alone amidst the bustling gallery.

As you scroll through the gallery, admiring the artwork, a familiar voice calls out your name. You turn around and are surprised to see Jeonghan standing there, holding a glass of champagne. To your own surprise, you feel no shock or hurt at his presence. Instead, you feel a sense of calm and resolution.

"Hi," he says, his voice tentative as he approaches you. "How are you?"

You offer him a small smile. "I'm doing better than ever," you reply confidently. "I got my PhD and now I'm planning on doing my residency."

Jeonghan's eyes light up with genuine pride. "That's amazing," he says, offering his congratulations. "I always knew you would achieve great things."

You exchange conversation for a while, catching up on each other's lives. Eventually, Jeonghan takes a deep breath and admits once again that he is truly sorry for the pain he caused in the past.

You nod, feeling a sense of closure wash over you. "I've forgiven you," you say simply.

His eyes widen with hope, and for a moment, you see the flicker of longing in his gaze. But before he can say anything else, a commotion interrupts the moment.

A little kid comes running towards you, calling you "mama." You glance down and see your baby boy, and you can't help but smile as you scoop him up into your arms.

"Where's Papa?" you ask, and just then, a voice responds—a man carrying your one-year-old daughter.

Jeonghan stands frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as he takes in the sight of your family. You introduce your husband to him, and as you do, your baby boy innocently asks who the man you're talking to is.

"He's one of the singers mommy used to love," you reply gently, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

Jeonghan introduces himself to your family, his emotions held back as he struggles to maintain his composure. But as the moment stretches on, you can see the glass in his hand trembling, a silent testament to the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Mama, can we look for Tatie?" your baby boy asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You smile down at him and give a nod. "Of course, sweetheart. Let's go find her," you reply, your heart swelling with love for your children.

Turning to Jeonghan, you offer a polite smile. "It was nice meeting you again," you say sincerely.

Your baby boy tugs at your hand, eager to leave. "Goodbye, Uncle!" he chirps before running off with your husband and daughter.

Jeonghan watches them go, his face a mixture of shock and sadness. You offer him a sympathetic smile before turning away to search for your best friend.

As you walk with your husband by your side, his arm wrapped around you protectively, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You lean into him, grateful for his unwavering support and patience.

"Thank you for being so patient love," you murmur, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

He smiles down at you, his eyes filled with warmth. "You're very brave, you know that," he says simply, his voice filled with admiration.

You feel a surge of gratitude for the life you've built together, for the love and happiness that surrounds you. And as you continue to search for your best friends, you realize that maybe visiting Korea isn't so bad after all, especially when you have your family by your side.

In that moment, you realize that the greatest revenge you can provide to Jeonghan is finding your own happiness without him. And as you find your own people who cherish and support you, you know that you've already won.

part 1, part 2

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative - Introduction

Before I do ANYTHING else, and before you read anything else...let's start this with a little poll, shall we?

...Look, I'm an overly ambitious person by nature. It's a problem, I'm fully aware. So, in the midst of writing character essays, imagining my own version of the DC Cinematic Universe (I promise, I will return to the Legion of Super-Heroes series; been having writer's block, not gonna lie), and about a dozen other projects that don't include school and my job (one and the same thing, and I love both, but I'll get to that one day)...I had another thought. That I would like to present to the good people of Tumblr (and perhaps beyond).

The state birds suck.

Most people on Tumblr don't know this about me, save for a select few that no me in real life (hey guys, 'sup), but I'm an avid birdwatcher, and am currently working in ornithology as a profession and student. As such, and as a former (and future) teacher, I have a vested passion in spreading the word. And one of the first ways most of us in the United States engage with birds, other than through the world and people around us, is through our national bird and state birds. Oh, and for anybody reading this not from the USA, don't worry, national birds are included here, too.

Now, in case you don't know for whatever reason, each one of the states in the United States has a bird meant to represent the state, designated by the government and often nominated by the state's citizens. This tradition started in 1926, with Kentucky's national bird, the Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis). Now, most states have an official state bird, although Pennsylvania technically has a state game bird, rather than a state bird. We'll get to it. But in any case, there's a bird associated with every state.

But, uh...most of them suuuuuuuuuuuck.

Now, for example, I'm not saying that the Northern Cardinal sucks. Far from it! I love cardinals, and honestly, who doesn't? They're handsome birds, they have a lot of character, they're recognizable in most states in the Union by most people. I love them! But, uh...cardinals are extremely overused as state birds. Kentucky chose them as their state bird first, and were followed by Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Virginia. That's ridiculous. Also, wait, really, Virginia? You saw that West Virginia had it already, and STILL went for the cardinal? What the hell?

But why? Maybe there's a good reason for all of those states to choose the cardinal, after all. Obviously, it's present in all of those states, because...well, the Northern Cardinal is basically everywhere. But other than that, why? Well, let's see.

Kentucky: Unclear, but it's likely because of its prevalence, songs, and nonmigratory behavior, at least according to some sources; there isn't a lot of evidence online as to why outside of this.

Illinois: For this one, we blame the children. Yeah, kids voted this one sd the symbol, choosing it over the bluebird, meadowlark, bobwhite, and oriole, according to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources. So, yeah, probably because it's familiar and red.

Indiana: For...reasons. Yeah, even less is known about this choice. Safe to assume, though, that it's because it's familiar and red.

Ohio: Apparently, this is because it's red and has a cheerful song. 'Kay. Again, not a lot of evidence for this one, but we'll go with it.

North Carolina: This one also came down to public vote, after a campaign initiated by the North Carolina Bird Club in 1943. It won over the red-winged blackbird, wild turkey, scarlet tanager, and gray catbird. Apparently, this was the second attempt at a state bird, as the Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) had been chosen ten years earlier, but only retained the position for a week because the bird's other name is, and this is true, the tomtit. And that was apparently too lewd for the title of state bird. Jesus. We'll get back to that when I address North Carolina officially.

West Virginia: Again, chosen and voted by schoolchildren, and chosen because it's familiar, red, and has a cheerful song. 'Kay.

Virginia: No idea. Also, don't listen to the sites that say their bird "exemplifies the quality of the state" unless they have the GODDAMN PAPERWORK to back that shit up. If I had to guess, it's possibly because the northern cardinal is one of the first birds seen in the state by settlers to the continental USA, who landed in...Virginia. So, the state's got a historical connection to the cardinal, meaning that the last state to ratify it as a state bird is the one to make the most sense to do so.

So, yeah...only one of those makes sense to me. Otherwise, it just feels...random. And by the way, many of the state birds do make some sense. Utah's choice, the California Gull (Larus californicus), has roots in a Mormon miracle, which makes perfect sense for the Mormon state. Louisiana's Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) is an iconic species to the American southeast, and a massive proportion of the species breeds in the state. Same goes for the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus), the state bird of Oklahoma. Iconic and unique grassland bird, and it breeds within the state in high quantities for the global population.

But others? Why does New York (a state I grew up in and around) have the Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) for its state bird? Because it's blue and nice-looking? Why exactly do Wyoming, Oregon, Nebraska, Kansas, Montana, and North Dakota ALL have the Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta)? I love the song too, and it's an iconic grassland species, but really? All of you? And Maine? Maine...Maine. I mean, you didn't even go for a specific species and just listed "chickadee" as your state bird. Why? There is a MUCH. BETTER. OPTION. OBVIOUSLY. But...I digress.

...FUCK IT

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH IS MAINE'S STATE BIRD NOT THE ATLANTIC PUFFIN (Fratercula arctica)??? ANSWER ME MAINE GODDAMMIT

Seriously, what the hell? It's the only state IN THE UNION where the Atlantic puffin breeds, and it's an incredibly iconic bird! I mean, look at that thing! They're adorable, fish-eating, clumsy-flying, feathery orbs with a Froot Loops beak (for part of the year), complete with their own fucking cereal that I ate constantly as a child. And their babies are called pufflings! PUFFLINGS!!! DO YOU HEAR ME MAINE WHAT THE FU

...OK. OK. I'm good. Look, this genuinely irritates the SHIT out of me, both as a hobbyist and as a professional. There are near 1,000 bird species that can be found in the United States, and the state birds are, honestly, some basic-ass choices that doesn't BEGIN to explore the incredible diversity of this taxon. And honestly, maybe if we changed up the state birds, we could increase awareness for these animals and their conservation stories and needs. There are so many missed opportunities here for us as educators, birders, ornithologists, backyard birdwatchers, and even Birdblr, to educate those around us who aren't as ornithologically-inclined. Imagine being able to convince a friend to go find the state bird on a trip some weekend. It could be a fun activity, and a fun way to get into birdwatching and the natural world! IT'S GOT POTENTIAL!!!

And look, I realize I'm not alone on this front. Various people have proposed changing up the state birds, including some more powerful professionals than I. If you haven't seen it yet, check out this essay series from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology that came out last year, which asks whether or not eBird could be used to identify better candidates for state birds. And I'll be using it for what's coming next. Because here's the thing. I'm tired of ranting alone in the dark towards nobody while my fiancee is trying to sleep about this. I need to rant to you poor people instead. And what's more...I want people to rant with me. If they want to. So...

TO ME, BIRDBLR!!! LEND ME YOUR BINOCULARS!!!

I propose an initiative to create a new list of state birds for the United States of America. And I'm talkin' EVERY state, baby! Even the ones that have fitting birds, as mentioned above. We live in a GODDAMN DEMOCRACY, and I say that we put this to a vote. So, Imma make a series of polls, one for each state. And yeah, that's 50 polls. Each will have a selection of birds, including the current state bird for that state, and I'll present the options in each case. The rules and selection criteria for the birds I'll present are as follows:

The bird has to be wild and breed in the state in question. No migrants, to accidentals, no introduced species (looking at you, South Dakota), no domestic species (looking at you, Rhode Island and Delaware). They're from the state, they breed there, and they're wild. Don't have to be endemic to the state, but they need to be found there, at bare goddamn minimum.

No repeats! Every state will have a different species! No more repeats. If there are any ties for states to get a given bird, another set of polls will be made at the end to determine which state will get that bird, and the second highest bird will claim the spot for that state. I'll try to avoid that for each state, but we'll see how things go.

There has to be a reason for their selection. For each of the birds presented for each state, I'll make a solid argument for their nomination. This also goes for any birds submitted to me for suggestions (and yes, I mean to say y'all can make suggestions if you want to for each state). If you have a bird you think would be good for a state, especially if it's your state, please give me a reason. Not that it's pretty, not that you like it's song, not that it "represents the spirit of the state's people" for no easily defined reason. GIVE ME A REASON

And for now, that's it! And hell, if this gets popular or demanded (and I'm saying this if, like, 30 people pay attention to this post), I'll also do the District of Columbia and the U.S. territories. And hell (again), I'll even consider doing other countries if that gets demanded, definitely starting with Canada and seeing how things go from there. And finally...if people want it, maybe even the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) will go up for debate as the USA's national bird. Although, not gonna lie, I think that we're stuck with that one. Still, there are other questions that can be brought up if this gets popular enough. For now, though, let's focus on one thing at a time.

So, hopefully you answered the poll at the top, because I am curious as to what you think about your state bird. And just to set this up, the first state on the chopping block is Delaware, which has one of the most offensive state birds, in my opinion. Because seriously. What the fuck, Delaware? What the fuck.

See you soon, hopefully! And happy birding!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

1. Delaware - Poll | Results 2. Pennsylvania - Poll | Results 3. New Jersey - Poll | Results 4. Georgia - Poll | Results 5. Connecticut - Poll | Results 6. Massachusetts - Poll | Results

[delta-piscium]

Murray, after watching Steve and Eddie for all of five seconds, confidently walks up to them and starts his whole spiel about pining blah blah etc etc, and like, Steve will absolutely not have that, there is no way.

So he snorts, looks at Murray down his nose, and with zero hesitation lies, tells him “We’ve been dating for a month, congrats on seeing the obvious... Or not since you couldn’t tell”

He just hopes Eddie will play along. Steve is sending him the strongest signals with his mind right now, and, just, he knows Eddie can be petty like this too (that’s why he likes him so much, and yeah Murray is a little right but fuck him so much more for it)

Eddie ‘lives for the bit and to fuck with people’ Munson does not disappoint. He slings an arm around Steve and is like “Yeaaahhh wow, real clever observation there buddy.” In the driest tone imaginable

And Murray, well he was sure he was right, still kind of is sure he’s right so he just squints at them for a bit and then breaks out in a wide grin, and only sounds a little sarcastic when he says “Congrats on figuring your shit out yourselves.” 

Except he absolutely does not mean it because he wanted to do that, he likes doing that. And now he's sulking and will watch them so closely because something seems off 

Eddie and Steve, so committed to the bit and to not let Murray win, start fake dating. All while Murray tries to catch them in their lie, and they’re all too stubborn to give up

Murray starts to slowly think he maybe was wrong though because they really seem like a couple. And even though there’s still something there he can’t ignore the proof.

When they straight up make out in front of him, and he can tell that they’re so lost in each other they probably don’t know he’s there he's about to concede

But then after that, they act so weird around each other again? It’s like before but worse and how did the pining get worse when they’re actually openly together? Regularly have their tongues down each other's throats and all?

Meanwhile, Steve and Eddie are going through it because they thought they’d be okay but that kiss was so much, and oh god they don’t think they can do this? But they can’t let Murray win?

A week and a half later at their monthly 'we survived the apocalypse, again' get-together at Hoppers and Joyce’s, Murray just gets enough of how twitchy they are. He grabs them both and locks them in a closet and is like “I don’t wanna know anymore, whatever fight you had or didn’t figure it out”

They sort of stand there shuffling from foot to foot not marking eye contact until Eddie is just like “Oh for fucks sake, I like you for real okay? The bastard was right so can we actually just date? Please?” And all Steve's can do is say "Thank god," while he smiles the most blinding smile and grabs Eddie by his collar pulling him in for a kiss

Fifteen minutes later they come out of the closet (the irony and symbolism is not lost on them) all disheveled and a little too satisfied looking and are met with very loud screaming from all the younger teens, ranging from a simple “Ew!” (Mike) to “Dude we are right here what if we'd heard? Or walked in there and seen?” (Dustin)

They’re lucky they’re too distracted by this to see Murray's self-satisfied smirk because if they did they would have pretend broken up and there would have been another month of sneaking around but this time actually dating and pretending they weren’t

[velvetvexations]

I’m. So baffled by that one dude saying that trans men being able to pretend to be women is a privilege, because in his tags he says that it’s a thing specific to transmascs. Does he mean pretending to be cis as a means of safety is a transmasc specific thing?? Because uh, I’m… pretty sure that’s something that can be done regardless of a trans person’s gender? There are transfems and nonbinary people who can also pretend to be cis [whatever their agab was], too?

Its also not a privilege. Having to hide what you are out of fear isn’t a fucking privilege lmao

strangely people understand that when it's about trans women

just saw a post on my dash saying "'infighting' is a dogwhistle which frames transfems as aggressors". i really hope the tide is turning like you said, bc this shit is getting exhausting and im still seeing it from random people i follow who otherwise gave no indication that they drank the koolaid.

they make me out to be the aggressor all the time!

Nazi imagery anon here

These are the pics I was referring to.

As you can see it’s posted on the verified border security account and you can see two different nazi symbols on him :(

yeah it looks like standards for what they allow soldiers to adorn themselves with are low and the person taking and posting the pics aren't paying good enough attention because that guy also straight up has a naked anime bitch on his knife sheath

as I said this is an individual thing and they need to start knocking their heads together like the Three Stooges and sending them into trenches first

You know who saying that th**fab is actually a storied term that trans fems have been using to identify transmisogonists is fucking insane like girl that's such obvious lie give us nothing

they aren't even trying

It’s crazy how almost every other day on this site I see a new post with like 50k notes talking about how absolutely NOBODY deserves to be harassed, sent death threats or be put on blast yet once again I’m seeing people trying to justify the harassment of another transmasc teenager. Honestly people should just start openly admitting Tumblr is becoming increasingly hostile towards trans masculine individuals, I don’t see clownery on this level on any other platform-

Tumblr...is really bad.

I think the reason why this whole headcanons discourse bothers me so much is that is really is just fuelled by petty spite. Like all these characters are cisgender in canon. We make headcanons because it’s FUN to expand on characters in ways that reflect our different life experiences in whatever form that may take. Intentionally going after transmascs, especially young transmascs, for doing this with characters like they like and accusing them of all these different things genuinely does just feel like bigotry. Who cares if a head canon may not make the most amount of sense? It’s a cisgender fictional character we’re playing around with! Why does it have to be some grand act of activism to say blorbo number 3 is transmasc? We have much bigger fish to fry here.

exactly it's such dedication to not letting anyone else have anything

So sick of people acting like trans men are the same as cis men under the patriarchy and moreso im really sick of the "you're privileged to not be surrounded by men". Like, for lack of better phrasing, saying that about a group of people that is generally perceived as "failure women" pre transition (and sometimes during and post) is a little tone deaf. All about acknowledging how women and people perceived as women are harmed by misogyny until the ones perceived are men. Gender essentialism is ugly and tasteless and nonsensical. Please feel free to delete this im just rambling without a point

rambling is okay anon <3

„wow ur so privileged to not fear men”

i fear the fucking everyone asshole, i just realized that isnt everyone elses fault so i should still treat them with respect !!!!!

that woman called me a "self-hating doll" and I hate the second part a lot more than the first

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1: Kant & Bison's Desire for Agency

I recently wrote a post around Kant being the vehicle for Bison's freedom, but I'm spotting a bigger theme that these two lovebirds share in common. Both feel stripped of their agency, their ability to dictate their lives freely on their own terms and by their own ideals and desires.

For that reason, they're respectively struggling with where they are versus where they want to be, as factors beyond their control currently inhibit that from being attainable.

"I've cleared my name of car theft. My hands are so damn clean now." Kant is keen to put his past behind him, however Captain Chris has him cornered under the threat of re-opening his previous felonies and possible jail time, dangling custody of his brother as a bargaining chip. "If you get this done for me, not only will your criminal record be swept away, I'll wipe it clean." "If you go to jail, who'd take care of your brother?" Leaving Kant with no choice but to begrudgingly concede.

Bison feels similarly trapped by a life he didn't choose, clearly eager at any opportunity to 'clock off'. "I do what I have to do. Now I want to do what I want to. Can't I just live a little?" "If being hitmen makes it so hard to live, shouldn't we just quit?" "I don't want to kill people for a living my whole life... I just want to live my life." He just wants to enjoy a normal life - to have fun, to be frivolous, to embrace being an ordinary 24 year old.

TOGETHER WE BREAK FREE

Their relationship serves as temporary relief or escape from the situations they both find themselves in. Bison finds Kant's company a break from routine and monotony, a welcome distraction in between killing and working at the burger bar (neither of which he chose for himself). Dating Kant is an insight into the joys of life he fears missing out on. 'When I'm with you, I'm not a killer, I'm just a boy'.

By some poetic irony, Kant's mission to instrument Bison's capture would grant him access to the freedom he is seeking - allowing him and his brother to truly start afresh. There will absolutely be more backstory to come as to why Kant wants this so badly, that he’s willing to throw so much in. Dating Bison may begin as a means to an end, but Kant does find himself falling in love - despite his objective.

Once everything is out in the open, I do think they'll aid one another in acquiring the agency they each so desperately desire. No one can better understand how it feels to be trapped than someone who is also fighting against the bars of their own cage.

OVERCOMING YOUR RESTRAINTS

On their first date, Kant shares the following with Bison: “Would you believe me if I told you that I'm afraid of the ocean? Something happened when I was a kid. I almost drowned. Now I'm still afraid of it." One could argue that we don't know if Kant's admission is true, but I don't see any reason for him to lie about this specifically.

This promptly takes me back to this moment from the trailer, which has prominently stuck in my mind. I still get the impression that they are working together here when Kant jumps in. If Bison was on the offensive, I don't think he'd be as stationary or calm. Maybe he's performing under someone's watchful eye, or his gun is aimed at something out of shot, or they're practicing for a specific stunt.

Whatever the context, this scene now has considerably more weight. The fact that Kant jumps in whilst his hands are bound, when he has a fear of drowning is an indication of putting his complete trust in Bison (who is adept at swimming), to rescue him if needs be. The implication here being that Bison may quite literally, mentally and symbolically free Kant from his restraints, helping him to overcome what he’s most afraid of.

BDSM: THE PLEASURE OF CONTROL

Funnily enough, this duo's exploration of BDSM even aligns with their shared desire for agency. From the few snippets we’ve been shown, Bison likes being the one in control. Your partner consents to be at your mercy, affording you the power to enact pleasure and/or pain. And there’s a heady thrill in being handed such control. (It's also worth noting the inherent power play in taking a life, but whether Bison derives any pleasure from this, I'm not 100% sure. Kant also knows Bison is capable of killing, so letting him dominate actually says a tonne). During their one night stand, Bison even quips, "you're not doing this solo, you know," which teases that he's no passive participant. This seems to be Bison's philosophy on life overall (and the root of his dissatisfaction), that he's not one to sit back and watch his life pass him by.

Kant seems happy to indulge Bison in taking the reins. Having his agency taken away during acts of passion, but on his terms is noticeably different to feeling forcibly pushed - because you've chosen how and who you forfeit that agency to. This is partly why I suspect Kant actually gives Bison permission to tie him up in that boat scene (above), for the greater purposes of a mission or task they have agreed to help each other achieve.

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 3 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2

Chapter Summary: You have a new, beautiful coworker.

A/N: Ladies and friends, he's arrived Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: somewhat graphic description of a medical procedure, mentions of blood

“You are cheery,” Hen says with a weird face as Bobby walks through the garage.

You and Hen are standing next to each other in your street clothes; she’s just finishing her shift, and you’re starting yours. You were catching up with her when Bobby made his appearance, and now you’re both following him up

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Bobby counters.

“Maybe 'cause you've been like this for weeks, and it's starting to get on my nerves,” Hen counters. “What’s goin’ on with you?”

Buck walks in with his phone over his head in one hand and his duffle bag in the other. “I got another DXA scan, and guess who dropped another half percent!”

“What?” Hen asks.

“A DXA scan measures your body fat; you can see your percentage in every part of your body.”

“You know that’s not why people get them, though, right?” You ask Buck.

He gives you a confused look.

“DXA scans are used to screen for osteoporosis. So the majority of people getting them are post-menopausal women, people older than 50 with fractured bones, and… you,” you explain.

“You’re in good company, Buck,” Hen laughs.

“Hey, can that scan measure the fat in your head, too?” Chim says as he joins the conversation. He gets a laugh out of Bobby.

“Ah, see, that would be funny, but we're about a week away from submissions being due for the Hot Days, Smoldering Nights: Men of the LAFD wall calendar, and I'm already at my goal weight, so it seems like my head is clearly working perfectly,” Buck returns.

“Do you really need to use the whole title?” You ask.

“You could just just say ‘hat idiotic, reductive, sexist calendar that insults the dignity of this organization and furthers the myth that all firefighters are male,’” Hen agrees.

You offer her a fist bump, which she accepts.

“Yeah, that’s not any less words,” Buck argues.

Bobby smiles. “Hen, come on, it's for charity.”

“No, Bobby, you too?”

“Why not? They say a man is at his sexiest when he reaches 50.”

“This is so not a conversation I want to be having with you people,” you interject.

“I think sorority houses all across this great nation are ready for a new Asian sеx symbol,” Chim takes a bite out of whatever he’s eating. “It’s our time.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You know what? I’m team Chimney.”

“I think it's great. You know? I like that you're both going up for it,” Buck agrees.

“Oh, because you don’t think we stand a chance,” Bobby argues.

“Did I say that? I mean, sure, let's be real. They are only picking one candidate from each station—”

“—That is a beautiful man,” Chim interrupts Buck.

“Where’s the lie?” Hen concurs. “And I like girls.”

You follow their line of vision to a man about 15 feet away, changing into an LAFD t-shirt. His abs ripple with each movement, as do his biceps. He has dark brown hair, matching eyes, and god, his face. He might be the prettiest person you’ve ever seen in real life.

“Who the hell is that?” Buck asks, turning back to Bobby.

“Eddie Diaz: new recruit,” Bobby clarifies. “Graduated top of his class just this week. Guys over at Station Six were dying to have him, but I convinced him to join us.”

Your head snaps in his direction. “The probie? My probie?”

“Your probie?!” Buck asks in complete dismay.

Bobby smiles again. “He served multiple tours in Afghanistan as an Army medic, got a silver star.”

“I get to see what he’s made of,” you tell your Captain. You smile wide. “What a niee present, Bobby! And it isn’t even my birthday.”

Everyone except Buck laughs at your remark.

“The air nozzle is embedded in his asscheek,” The mechanic says he walks the team over to the victim, Hector. “I shut it off, but I was afraid to move him.”

The second you lay eyes on him, you know it’s the worst case of subcutaneous emphysema you’ve ever seen. You’ve seen air get trapped under the skin from gnarly chest trauma, but this definitely takes the cake.

“Alright, let’s get him on his side,” Bobby instructs, “maintain pressure on the wound.”

You, Eddie, Buck, and Chim carefully lift on Bobby’s count, then set Hector on the floor. You immediately grab your stethoscope and listen to him while Eddie gets vital signs and Chim starts an IV.

“Systolic is in the 80s,” Eddie says as he takes his own stethoscope out of his ears.

“Hypotension, respiratory distress, and ipsilateral absent lung sounds … what are we look at here, Eddie?” You ask.

He catches your gaze and contemplates. You can see when the light bulb goes off. “Tension pneumothorax.”

“So how do we fix it?”

“Needle decompression,” he says almost immediately.

“I’ll get a 14 gauge,” Buck volunteers, already going through your bag.

“If his systolic is already in the 80s, he needs more than that,” you say calmly as you cut away Hector’s clothes. “What’s your next intervention?”

Eddie smiles in that way only a trauma junkie can. “Finger thoracostomy.”

“Buck, Eddie needs lidocaine, betadine, a hemostat, and a scalpel,” you instruct. “Chim, get us a three-sided occlusive dressing ready.”

“Wait, you’re letting me do it?”

“Have you seen one?” You counter.

“Yeah, in the field once or twice.”

“See one, do one, teach one.”

You take everything from Buck as he hands it to you. You pass the betadine to Eddie. “Prep the site, I’ll draw up your lido.”

Eddie pours the reddish-yellow antiseptic over Hector’s side. You draw up some lidocaine and pass it to him.

“Where are you giving it?” You ask.

“5th intercostal space, anterior axillary line,” Eddie says, using his fingers to find the landmark. “A pinch and a burn here, Hector.”

Hector winces as the medication is injected.

“How big should the incision be?” You ask Eddie as open the scalpel and hemostat packages.

“2-3 centimeters.”

You smile and hand him the scalpel. “Go for it. Once you make the incision, use the hemostat to spread the tissue to get down to the intercostal muscles.”

Eddie nods and makes the incision. When he’s ready, you pass him the hemostat, and he does as instructed. “Now what?”

“Use your finger to spread the muscles and enter the pleural cavity. When you get in, you might have to sweep your finger to release any adhesions. Once you do, you should feel and hear the air come out.”

Eddie nods and inserts his finger into the incision, twisting his hand once it reaches the pleural cavity. You can hear a ‘hiss’ as the air rushes out.

“Nice work,” you tell Eddie. “Leave your finger there until it stops, and then we’ll place the dressing.”

“Good job, both of you,” Bobby praised.

“That was badass,” Chim agreed.

Buck just stared at you both.

After dropping Hector off at the ER, the day’s pace came to a crawl. Rather than sit around and binge-watch something, you decide to sneak in a workout. You already know what you’ll be doing — your local gym has a squat rack, but it doesn’t have a punching bag. There’s something so therapeutic about channeling all of your anger into your hands and just hitting something.

“Need a partner?” Eddie asks from behind you.

You stop, turning to look at him. He’s wearing black sweats and a tank top of the same color. The sides of his shirt are low-cut, so you can see the definition of his ribs peaking out. It should be illegal for someone to look that good.

“Sure,” you say, nodding to the bag.

Eddie gets the memo; he stands behind the bag in a shallow lunge stance, holding each side. You begin punching again, but now, it doesn’t swing as violently. It makes for better strikes and a better workout. After a few minutes, you have to stop because your heart is pounding and you’re dripping in sweat.

“Thanks,” you tell Eddie breathlessly as you grab your water bottle.

“Are you kidding? Thank you,” Eddie says with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever done something that cool before, even in combat.”

“Yeah, our job is pretty cool, isn’t it?” You agree. You were always bad at taking praise.

“Well, it helps that you’re an excellent teacher,” Eddie continues, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, you were so calm and collected. I gotta be honest, I was freaking out a little, so seeing that you weren’t really helped.”

“Wow, I… never would’ve guessed that you were scared. You did great.”

Eddie smiles again. “Thanks. It’s just… different, helping civilians instead of soldiers. It’s more pressure sometimes, I guess. I mean, when people hear you made it out of Afganistan, twice, they set pretty high expectations.”

“You live up to them,” you assure with a smile of your own.

“What’s going on here?” Buck says as he approaches.

He changed too, now wearing black shorts and a navy tee with the sleeves cut off. He looks less than thrilled to see you talking to Eddie.

“Just talking about the call between sets,” you say.

“Oh,” Buck says with a shrug. He looks at Eddie. “Yeah, good call.”

Buck brushes by both of you, heading towards the squat rack. You and Eddie share a look. His words were kind, but his tone was not.

“What’s your problem, man?” Eddie asks, approaching Buck.

“Okay… you. You’re my problem,” Buck replies. He puffs up his chest a little; it’s subtle, but you pick it up. “You're-you're not supposed to just walk in here like you've been here for years. It's meant to be a getting-to-know-you period. You're meant to respect your elders.”

“You’re not his elder, Buck,” you point out.

“Look, I in no way meant to, uh, be too familiar or step on anybody's toes,” Eddie raises his hands. “I get you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to take it out on me or be threatened by me. We’re on the same team.”

Buck takes a step closer to Eddie. “Why would I be threatened by you? The only reason you did so well today is because she walked you through everything. If it weren’t for her, you would’ve done needle decompression, and the guy might not have made it. You’re not impressive—she is.”

Something you always hated about working with men? Being dragged into their dick-measuring contests. Upon hearing Buck call you ‘impressive,’ though, your stomach may or may not have done a backflip.

“Glad to see we’re both on the same page,” Eddie agrees.

Now, both of them have called you impressive. Maybe working with men isn’t always so bad.

The next call you go on is to a supposedly detonated grenade. You say ‘supposedly’ because if it actually deployed, you don’t think the man who did it would be the one calling 911. But he did. So it probably didn’t.

Bobby, Buck, and yourself are the ones who enter the house first. It’s clear from everything in the room that the man is a fanatic of the military.

“Militia nut?” Buck says as the three of you follow the muffled calls for help.

“In here!” The man calls out again.

Bobby is the first to open the door, and judging by the way he rushes inside, you know he found the caller. You and Buck follow him.

“What’s your name, sir?” Bobby asks as you and Buck get to work.

“Charlie,” he responds as you wrap a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“Alright, Charlie, tell us what happened.”

“Damn grenade went off while I was taking it apart,” he replies.

You aren’t entirely convinced that’s what happened, but you can tell something happened. His thigh is a bloody mess, and without looking closely, you can see shrapnel.

“Why are you taking apart a grenade?” Buck asks.

“I was cleaning it. I’m a collector.”

“No kidding,” Bobby remarks as he surveys for other potential injuries.

“You pulled the pin?” You asked, moving to inspect the wound.

“It ain’t that kind of grenade. It's a 40-mike-mike. A practice round for an M203 grenade launcher. I picked it up at a flea market in Brea, part of my 'Nam collection. My screwdriver must have touched the propelling charge.”

“I see metal and a lot of shrapnel, Cap, and I think the femoral artery’s been nicked,” you explain as you move your flashlight around. “We gotta transport him. Now.”

A few men from another rescue team help you and the boys get Charlie onto the stretcher and out the door. You can see Eddie is waiting in the rig like you told him to, and he helps pull Charlie into the rig.

“Buck, I want you to travel with him to the hospital, help keep him stable,” Bobby instructs.

You’re already climbing into the rig, but you spare a glance at Buck, who looks rigid and unimpressed. “Copy that, Cap.”

“Hey, you gotta learn how to play nice,” Bobby continues. “It’s one team, Buck.”

“I’m guessing you’ve seen a lot of shrapnel wounds, Eddie,” you say once the ambulance takes off driving.

ETA to the hospital is 10 minutes, and you’ve already instructed the boys to apply a tourniquet and bandage the wound. There isn’t much else to do other than trend vital signs.

“My share,” Eddie nods. “Those dressings are soaking through. I’m gonna change them.”

You give him a simple nod.

Buck sits on the bench, simply watching the two of you. When he catches your eye, you shrug. He scoffs and laughs.

Once Eddie pulls the bandages back, the look on his face changes. “I thought you said this was a practice round.”

“It is,” Charlie says.

“What’s going on, Ed?” you ask.

“You see that cap?” Eddie says, pointing to a piece of metal in Charlie’s leg. “Practice rounds have blue caps. Gold caps are live.”

The cap is gold.

You start banging on the ceiling to signal the EMT driving. “Pull over!”

Within 10 minutes, you’re all now standing in a random parking lot with multiple EMS crews as well as the LAPD bomb squad. They took an X-ray of Charlie’s leg, which clearly shows an encapsulated piece of metal.

“He has a goddaamn live round in his thigh,” you say in disbelief.

“I thought the thing already went off,” Buck interjects. “Isn’t that why we were called?”

“The launch grenade has two components: gunpowder which makes it travel and an explosive charge that makes it go boom,” Eddie explains.

“So… why didn’t it go boom?” Buck asks the obvious question.

“It's fitted with a proximity fuse. It's a little smart sensor that tells the cap it's traveled a safe enough distance from the shooter to explode. From his hand to his leg probably wasn't far enough.”

“Well, we can't bring him inside a hospital full of people, not with that still stuck inside him,” Bobby says.

“We called the military for help,” Jim, the bomb squad officer, explains.

“Why can’t you do it?” You ask. “You’re the bomb squad. Isn’t this sort of your job?”

“You can’t diffuse a grenade,” Jim clarifies. “We need to find someone who knows how to pull that thing out of him without setting it off. They're sending someone up from Pendleton. Should be here within the hour.”

“Captain, he doesn’t have an hour, not without a trauma surgeon,” you say.

“I can do it,” Eddie volunteers.

“You’ve done it before?” You ask before Bobby can.

“Well, none of the guys I served with were dumb enough to shoot a live round in themselves, but I'm familiar with the ordinance.”

“I’m in,” Buck says.

“Fuck it, so am I,” you say.

Next thing you know, the three of you are getting strapped into bomb squad attire, which you find kind of silly. If the grenade goes off, you’re all fucked, heavy vest or not. But you aren’t in the position to make smart remarks, so you stay silent.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Bobby says as a bomb squad tech straps you in.

“Someone has to make sure those two don’t claw each other’s eyes out,” you smile.

He doesn’t laugh.

“We’ll be okay, Cap,” you promise softly. “All 4 of us.”

Once you get back into the rig, you station yourself at Charlie’s head while the boys are to his side. You push ketamine through the IV line, and within a few minutes, he’s out.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, looking between you and Buck.

You give a firm nod.

“Ready,” Buck says.

Eddie instructs Buck to apply pressure around the wound bed, which helps expose the grenade. He begins using the tool given to him by the bomb squad to extract it.

“Pull it out,” Buck says. “Come on.”

“I gotta be careful,” Eddie says slowly, concentrating on what he’s doing instead of Buck’s remark. “The sensor measures the distance traveled based on how many rotations the shell made after the launch. The key is not to turn the shell while we pull it out.”

“Okay, yeah, so don’t turn it,” Buck agrees.

You can’t help but chuckle.

Eddie manages to extract the grenade, and Buck helps him deposit it into the box.

“Well, gentlemen, I say we get the hell out of here,” you remark.

You all do exactly that. Leaving the box with the grenade on the rig, you all carefully move the gurney out so you can get Charlie on a different ambulance. Bobby has a rig on standby, so it’s the easiest task of your night.

“You’re badass under pressure, brother,” Eddie says, turning to Buck.

“Me?” Buck asks as if Eddie would be talking to anyone else.

“Hell yeah. You can have my back any day.”

“Yeah. Or, you know, you could... you could have mine.”

Both you and Eddie laugh.

Eddie offers Buck a hand, which he accepts. “Deal.”

“Nice work, all of you,” Bobby praises. “Glad you made it out of there.”

“Come on, the guy’s a professional,” you say, gesturing to Eddie. “I was never worried.”

Less than a second later, the ambulance explodes. The doors are blown open, and the windshield simultaneously pops off the vehicle and shatters. You all duck for a moment, then turn to look at Eddie.

“You guys hungry?”

“What about GI?” Buck says to Eddie as the latter plays pinball. “Like GI Joe! That’s a great nickname.”

Buck is trying to come up with a nickname for Eddie, which apparently, he’s been doing for awhile. You just haven’t been around to hear about it, either on different calls or not on shift at all.

“More like Gastrointestinal,” you chime in as you finish up charting a case. Hen, who’s sitting across from you, laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Eddie says as he continues playing.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Bobby says, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’ve got an announcement to make. I just got off the phone with the people from the calendar, and they have made their choice.”

“Well, no hard feelings, no matter who won,” Buck says to Eddie, offering him a fist bump.

“That's good, Buck, 'cause they didn't pick you,” Bobby says.

“Well, it’s obviously a fix!” Buck replies. “Nah, congratulations anyway, GI!”

Eddie laughs.

“They didn’t pick him either,” Bobby continues.

“Huh. You?” Buck asks.

You all look to Chim, who is crunching on some celery. “No way, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Hah! I called it from the start,” you shout with pride. “Everyone remember that?”

Everyone stares at you.

“Right, not about me,” you laugh awkwardly. “Congrats, Chim!”

“Or should we say, ‘Mr. April’!” Bobby chimes.

Everyone approaches Chimney, offering high fives.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sergeant Grant says as she enters the loft.

Bobby approaches her, and she apologizes for something. It’s clear that something happened between them, but you have no clue what it is. She grabs his face and kisses him.

You all stare at them.

“What are you all lookin’ at?” Bobby eventually says. “There’s no more announcements.”

You and Hen share a look, then turn to the boys.

“Pay up,” you say simultaneously.

Ch 4

[river-of-wine]

God it’s so unfair what they did to Molly. I know I’ve said it before but I can’t stop thinking about it. She was in love. She was young and in love and look what happened to her. She fell for a man infamous for his silver tongue, she is far from the first woman on his arm, and her only crime was believing in him. Believing in the promises he sold her and everybody else. She loved him. She loves him so much and he just didn’t care. What was she to him? A distraction? Something pretty to look at and touch when he pleased that became too much work to be worth his time? A status symbol? A pretty rich exotic bird in a cage to flaunt as he liked? A replacement? A stand in for a woman long since dead? Whatever she was, he didn’t love her. He never did. He knew he wouldn’t, he knew he didn’t, and yet there she was.

She was in love and alone in a country she didn’t know in a world that does not like her, in a gang that does not like her either, isolated from her peers by the influence of a man who does not and will not love her. Not the way she wants to be loved. A man who ignores and berates and abuses her, who belittles and complains about her every emotion, her simple asks to be spoken to, looked at, called by her first name. She is desperate for help and her attempt to reach out to somebody who may understand what she sees is wrong with Dutch is ignored. He starts looking at another woman. A younger woman. She’s already young. Not young enough for him. Not passive enough for him. Not enough for him. She says too much. She questions him too much. She asks too much for him when she tells him that she wants his respect and affection.

She knows. She sees him for who he is. No one else does. No one will listen to her. No one likes her. Some don’t mind her, of course, but they do not like her. Some pity her. They do not like her. They do not love her. He does not love her. She is a sobbing mess before him, telling him that he has ruined her life, and even then he refuses it all. She can’t leave. Where would she go? How would she live, with no skills to provide for herself and no idea where she even is beyond the imprisoning safety of camp? She is a sobbing mess every day, sleeping on the floor and talking to herself as she smokes, convinced that everyone is as bad as him, that everyone is laughing at her still. She runs away and no one cares. She flees into unfamiliar territory on foot and unarmed, and as quickly as she escapes her abuser she is captured and sweated about him, and even still, even after all he has done to her, even recalling his gang that do not like her, who she believes all hate her, she does not say a word about them. She does not betray him even after he has betrayed her. She does not put him in danger. She does not try to have him killed. She could. She does not put his gang in danger. His family that she has never been part of. People who have never been on her side. She does not betray them.

She is dragged right back the second one of them sees her, perhaps the first time she had been truly noticed in months, drunk and worn down and angry, and it’s too much now. She cannot take more of this. More of him. She can’t. She lies. She lies and he believes it. Almost all of them do. She lies. A lie they could have seen through if any had cared enough to know where she was. A bank robbery planned and failed in her presence, only in its aftermath deciding to leave. She lies and he believes her. He points his gun at her and she doesn’t care. Is that what she wanted? It does seem so, how she laughs at him. Finally winning, finally hurting him, knowing that even think it is only herself who is aware that she is making a fool of him. He’s not so big now. She lies and they shoot her and they burn her. She is shot in the back. In the stomach. There is a definite cruelty in that. It’s beyond just ridding the gang of a supposed traitor, a wound to the stomach. They shot her and they burned her. They fucking burned her. They burned this young woman destroyed by a man she loved. He destroyed her in life and they destroyed her body further. Her innocence is revealed and the very camp whose move was christened by her blood is meets the same fate, set alight, her killer’s body within. She never said a word, they learn. With every reason she had, she didn’t tell them anything. She was in love. I love Molly O'Shea

[daitranscripts]

Solas Romance

The Truth

Solas Masterpost

Solas leads the PC to a grotto in Crestwood.

Solas: The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?

They stop, and Solas places a hand on the PC’s face.

Solas: I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.

Dialogue options:

General: I already know. [1]

Flirt: Interesting! [2]

General: You don’t have to do that. [3]

1 - General: I already know. PC: That’s not necessary, Solas. You’re my… Solas: That is the question, is it not? [4]

2 - Flirt: Interesting! PC: I’m listening, and I can offer a few suggestions. Solas: I shall bear that in mind. [4]

3 - General: You don’t have to do that. PC: I know what we mean to each other. Solas: Even so. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Solas: For now, the best gift I can offer is… the truth. You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.

Dialogue options:

End relationship: I don’t think this will work. [5]

I feel the same way. [6]

5 - End relationship: I don’t think this will work. PC: Solas, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you were right. I was too impulsive earlier. Solas: (Sighs.) Even in this, you surprise me. Solas: I shall speak no more of it. Still, know that whatever happens, you are a rare spirit in this world. Goodbye. He leaves. Scene ends.

6 - I feel the same way. PC: As you are to me. Solas: Then what I must tell you… the truth… Your face. The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean. PC: They honor the elven gods. Solas: No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.

7 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: That can’t be right. [8]

Stoic: That doesn’t matter. [9]

Angry: That’s a lie! [10]

Sad: We were wrong? [11]

8 - Investigate: That can’t be right. PC: My clan’s Keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols. Solas: Yes. That’s right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot. [back to 7]

9 - Stoic: That doesn’t matter. PC: Whatever the marks were before, the Dalish have reclaimed them. They mark me as one of them. Solas: I know. For everything I have said about the Dalish, I admire that indomitable spirit. [12]

10 - Angry: That’s a lie! PC: Why would you say that? Solas: Because it’s true. PC: Bullshit! That’s bullshit! Is there anything in this world you won’t tear down just to prove how smart you are? Why would you tell me this? Solas: Because you deserve better! [12]

11 - Sad: We were wrong? PC: So this is… what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong? Solas: I’m sorry. PC: (Breathes.) We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter? Solas: Don’t say that. For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you. [12]

12 - Scene continues.

Solas: I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m not sure. [13]

General: I’d like that. [14]

General: No. They matter to me. [15]

General: No. Forget the past. [16]

13 - General: I’m not sure. PC: These marks have been part of me for so long. I don’t know if… [17]

14 - General: I’d like that. PC: If what you’re saying is true… Solas: It is. PC: Then… my people vowed never to submit to slavery. [17]

15 - General: No. They matter to me. PC: Even if what you’re saying is true, I don’t think I can just let you erase them. [17]

16 - General: No. Forget the past. PC: I don’t wear the vallaslin for the ancient elves. I wear it for me. Solas: I know. [17]

17 - Scene continues.

Solas: I’m so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you, and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.

Dialogue options:

Remove the vallaslin. [18]

I want to keep the vallaslin. [19]

18 - Remove the vallaslin. PC: Then cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away. Solas: Sit. Solas leads the PC to the waterside, and they kneel. He passed his hands over the PC’s face, and the vallaslin are gone. Solas: Ar lasa mala revas. You are free. They stand. Solas: You are so beautiful. They kiss.

19 - I want to keep the vallaslin. PC: I know you told me because you wanted to help, but the vallaslin is part of who I am. I hope you can see past— Solas: Stop. You are perfect exactly as you are. They kiss.

20 - Scene continues.

Solas: And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.

Dialogue options:

General: I don’t want to lose you. [21]

General: Are you kidding me? [22]

General: If you must. [23]

21 - General: I don’t want to lose you. PC: Solas… Solas steps back. Solas: Please, vhenan.

Dialogue options:

Sad: I love you. [24]

Angry: Don’t do this to me! [25]

Stoic: I believe in us. [26]

24 - Sad: I love you. PC: Solas… don’t leave me. Not now. I love you. He shakes his head, and continues to back away. Solas: You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world— PC: Why not this one? He raises his hands between them. Solas: I can’t. I’m sorry. Solas leaves. Scene ends.

25 - Angry: Don’t do this to me! PC: Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. The PC shoves him. PC: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a coldhearted son of a bitch and move on! They leave Solas standing there. Solas: I’m sorry. Scene ends.

26 - Stoic: I believe in us. PC: I’m not giving up on you, Solas. Solas: You truly should. PC: Whatever you need, we can find together. Solas: No, we can’t. You’ll see. Solas turns. Solas: I’m sorry. He walks away. Scene ends.

22 - General: Are you kidding me? PC: Wait. What?

kept vallaslin PC: I say no to you altering my face, and just like that we’re done? Solas: It’s not that. I’m sorry. I should have ended this long before. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

let Solas remove the vallaslin PC: You bring me here, take the vallaslin from my face, and now you just end it? Solas: I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

23 - General: If you must. PC: All right. If that’s your decision, so be it. Solas: I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

27 - Dialogue options:

Stoic: You did. [28]

Sad: Great job. [29]

Angry: Your loss, asshole! [30]

28 - Stoic: You did. PC: Everyone makes mistakes. Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.

29 - Sad: Great job. PC: Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we? Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.

30 - Angry: Your loss, asshole! PC: Banal’abelas, banal’vhenan! Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.