#also lol at Paul being bored

[theperrylleluniverse]

This is a hilarious description of Hamilton just in general but then you’re like wait you cast William Talman in this role??? The cutest little baby deer of a man??? Like what a left turn

[ghostgirl101]

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅰ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.5K || Angst → Fluff ||

A/N: I had this as a big idea that I had to get down before the basic headcanons and stuff, so here's my take on our Lisan al Gaib 😎 if you like this then hit me up for some relationship headcanons and the like, I'm up for it all. Enjoy reading or watching the movie if you haven't already - I'm going again lol, and screen X is the best way to experience it fr Also I feel like I should write a second part to this lmao, if you liked what you read?

You weren't one for dreams of destiny.

The dreams you had seemed meaningless, confusing, nothing to do with what ifs and what could. Not like his.

But you always seemed to feel some kind of atmosphere, an aura you couldn't quite shake off, even when you woke up from the darkness. There was no face to go with the voice, the voice in the dark that called to you in whispers that you didn't understand. Beautiful words that weren't yours, but sounded so soft and gentle and powerful, as they reached out to you from distant lands.

You could never place them, pin them down and study them, understand them, until the day the Emperor was challenged by a ghost of a lost House, thought to be dead, left to be forgotten. You stand near the Emperor and his guards and men, the Great Houses looming and listening from higher above, as the Fremen fill up the space to watch the confrontation in spirited anticipation.

The life debt was paid. The late Emperor was overthrown. The ascendancy of Paul Atreides rose and took from the throne to claim it.

His attention flicks from his eyes boring coldly into the Emperor's, to meet yours, his voice smooth and set, full of conviction and force.

"Our destiny is together. I'll take her."

Your eyes widen slightly as his words sink in, blinking through the shock and incredulity that rushes through you and makes your heart race in apprehension and wonder. Though his voice twins with your wandering dreams, you don't know whether to feel fascination and longing, or fear and cautiousness at some greater force beyond your understanding, playing out before your very eyes.

"I..." your voice falters in uncertainty and disbelief, and you try again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me well," Paul responds with an undying, stoic certainty that's almost unnerving. "As I know you."

His eyes study you, his Spice-stained blue eyes bleeding into yours, scanning every freckle on your face and curve of your outfit. Assessing you, knowing you, ridiculous throngs of power filling his aura and projecting onto you with his intense stare. You have to fight not to shiver under it, ultimately failing.

"What of me?" is the wisest reply you can think of before the silence stretches into dangerous uncertainty.

"Everything," Paul says evenly, but there's no mistaking the challenge and determination in his tone, almost daring you to reject him, to disagree, a built-up desire of dreamt promises resolving his stand. "I choose you, as my Empress. We will rule together, over the Empire."

Scepticism and bewilderment washes over you and makes your blood heat and stir, retreating into silence as he takes a step closer to you, gazing at you as if you're the most curious, exotic being he's ever seen.

Desire threatens to override Paul Atreides' reason, clinging onto the hope and chance of a narrow way through to light, a light that could only be sought out with you by his side. Without you, there was nothing in sight but pools of blood replacing luscious marine life and oceans running through Arrakis, disarray and disillusion at every turn and infecting every heart.

You were absolutely perfect.

And you were already his, long before this moment, before you and he were born into the world and named. There was no manipulation needed, because everything was laid out for him to take, welcoming him to rule and grow higher and higher. Fate had bonded you and strung you along to here and now, and as you blink up into his bright eyes that narrow slightly at you, frowning softly as if you hadn't understood his demand.

"Do you know what I am?"

You pause for a moment, speaking slowly and cautiously, as the crowd of Fremen and the wary, late Emperor watch on in tense wordlessness. "You are Leto Atreides' son. Former Duke of Caladan."

"What I am," Paul repeats evenly, "not who I am." He stares at you in silence for another beat, before speaking up again. "Do you know of the Bene Gesserit?"

You stop yourself from glancing in Lady Jessica's direction just in time; the runes patterning her skin, her once soft eyes now spiked with an unfamiliar darkness of ages past. Anyone could get trapped in her watchful glare, and her son's holds almost as much intensity.

"No," you decide on hesitantly.

"Kwisatz Hederach," he adds, taking another step forward until you can feel his breath tickling your cheeks, standing above you with unspoken grace and vigor. "I see the future. A part of me is the future."

His hand is suddenly squeezing yours warmly and tightly, making you flinch slightly and glance down at them before looking back up at him.

"In this future, I am with you."

All you can do is stare at him in awe and wariness, not knowing whether to let your curiosity guide you, or distance yourself as far as possible from the boy who reigns over the dunes.

"Why?" you whisper, the crowds seeming to fade around you as you focus on the boy in front of you, his fingers tangling with yours boldly.

"I've seen it," Paul insists, his tone a touch softer in thought and wistfulness. "All of it. When I am with you..." His grip tightens over yours, the fire in his eyes returning. "We're unstoppable."

"And..." your words dry before you can speak them, and you will yourself to go on, unable to break away from the deep blue hues of his gaze. "And without?"

His jaw visibly clenches at your question, and his hand drops yours, shaking his head only answer as he glances away in slight frustration.

"You don't have the leisure of choice. It's all been made for you, written in the sands and stars, and what you need to do is walk in its path. I will show you the way. You have no other. Do you understand?"

The firmness is strong in his words and glare, making you look away from him too, still in a slight stun over the rush of events. In less than a day, your freedom has been stripped to this young man's desires and destiny, entwined with yours. You, who barely knew him until now, only familiar with his voice, his words, that echoed and rang in your head like a lullaby.

But this feels so harsh and strict. The eyes of the former Emporer linger between the two of you, and Paul's army of Fremen stand behind him attentively, some gazing at you in admiration and hope, of their messiah's promised bride. And she is beautiful.

"That's unfair."

"The future is unfair," Paul says calmly, his collected, cool tone wavering for a moment. "But it will be so much worse without you by my side, and I will not accept that. Not for my people... not for myself."

You stare at him in fascination and caution, lost for words. His fingers rise to brush against the skin of your cheek, sending tingles in their wake and making you fight back the automatic reaction, your eyes following his surprisingly gentle touch. Two fingers trace down the shape of your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. Just one step closer, and your lips would be touching too.

"Name anything," he murmurs to you, the Fremen straining to hear his voice as it reaches you effortlessly, his expression earnest and determined. "Anything. And it is yours. Only if you willingly wed me in turn. Not as a concubine, nor a mistress."

You blink, then blink again, taken aback as a million thoughts and suggestions race through your mind and make your head spin for a split second. You glance at the elder Emperor, who gazes back at you and the infamous Lisan al Gaib wearily, his eyes clouded with sombreness and light spite.

"I... I don't," you shake your head, overwhelmed by an impossible choice. "I don't know..."

Paul's expression softens into a smile you haven't seen before, one that makes your cheeks flush with colour as you watch him; a gentle, amused smile that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once, one meant just for you, as he disregards his surroundings.

"You will know," he replies quietly, "and I will have you, and protect you, rule with you. Love you. As I am meant to."

Paul suddenly brings you closer, pulling you into a searing kiss without warning. The exotic, earthy taste of the Spice on his tongue floods your senses and sends shudders of ecstasy and heat coursing under your skin and hushing the myriad of thoughts buzzing in your mind in an instant.

When he pulls away, all too soon, you find yourself chasing his lips before you catch yourself, and Paul gives you another soft smile, his forehead resting against yours as your eyes lock.

"And as I long to," he finishes against your lips, his words grounded with a look of protectiveness and desire that makes you instinctively relax further in his hold.

⊹⊹⊹

From beyond you both, his mother smiles slightly at the scene, a hand hovering over her rounded stomach.

The first step has been made.

══════════════⊹⊱≼ part two coming soon ≽⊰⊹══════════════

[pha55ed]

Diet Pepsi || F2

type :: smut! tw/cw :: size kink (ollie), corruption (paul), fem!reader (all) contains :: ollie, paul, pepe, zane summary :: certain kinks that the drivers have, - "break all the rules 'til we get caught" diet pepsi - addison rae (my first smut on this acc!)

request :: i desperately need a paul fic based on diet pepsi by addison rae i dont know why i js think its such a perfect combination 🤧 also maybe bed chem by sabrina carpenter is also perfect for him - 🧸 (thank u for the request! i love ovulation songs LOL)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 87 size kink

He's aware that he's bigger than most people, but he loves comparing how much smaller you are to him. Hand sizes, height, weight, anything. It makes him so happy to know that he's stronger than you, it makes him feel so masculine and protective.

It's a bit rude, but honestly he doesn't care - he loves treating you like a rag doll. Using one hand to pin both of your hands down above your head so he can use you without you clawing at his back. Easily separating your thighs from each other with his strength even if you try to close them. Or his favorite, simply lifting you up into the air and fucking you while standing up - gripping your waist with two hands and lifting you up and down on him with such ease.

But don't worry, after being so mean to you he's gentle at the end. Cuddling you in his arms, he's always going to be the big spoon. Brushing your hair to the side and cupping your face, telling you that you did amazing even though you were a pillow princess.

Paul Aron | 17 corruption

There's just something about ruining your innocent image. It doesn't matter if you're a virgin or not, but the way that you're perceived by the public being so different from how he sees you. The media sees you as a sweet and quiet person, more reserved than others.

Yet he sees you in ways no one else is allowed to. And he loves that, he loves knowing that he's ruining your image, he's the one making you act so out of character.

Wearing things like a cute sweater, innocent skirts, and bows in your hair make him go crazy. He doesn't want you to take them off, he'd rather fuck you while wearing those so he can see this sweet girl get her brains fucked out.

Pepe Marti | 21 cock warming (lwk edging but it depends)

He's a busy guy with a lot of training to do. So the best way to stay close together is to simply just cock warm, it makes perfect sense. You sit on his lap, his dick in you, while he stim races for hours on ends. His bare chest is so warm and comfortable, you can't help but try to fall asleep.

But you're never able to, because the second he crashes or finishes his race - he relieves his feelings onto you. Thrusting into you by surprise, going at a rapid and fast pace. He'll only stop once he's over his anger or the next race loads in.

And once it does, he stops instantly and locks into his race. So you're left there, edged and overstimulated from the past times you've came all over him. It's confusing in your guts, but it's better to feel full than empty.

Zane Maloney | 05 overstimulation

Being a racer requires being an adrenaline junkie and good health. Perfect for you, since you get the honors of having your brains get fucked out by Zane every time he's free. He loves using all his energy and pent up anger on you. He'll spend hours fucking you without him even cumming once, to make sure that you get the best experience.

But it's never boring, as if could be with him. He loves trying new positions and adding different stimulations for you. Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, 69, every position ever made has been tried by Zane and you. Every single sex toy has also been tried by Zane and you, no matter how odd or weird.

Not only is it a good way for him to get his energy out, but he's also just a curious person. Seeing you react to certain touches, hearing you moan just a bit louder, all of it is worth it to him. It makes him so happy to know that he's making you feel good. He doesn't even care how long he has to wait till he finally cums, because any time with you is good time.

(Zane is deadass so cute like omg, why have I never looked at him??? he has tattoos? listens to podcasts for fun?? loves the US and the diverse culture??? the cutest fucking gummy smile I've ever seen????? I love him now)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; vi

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 11k LOL SORRY

summary:  "Now is not the time for recklessness; Paul will bide his time, watching and waiting for the opportunity- with a small flicker, he casts down the side of him that wishes to see Feyd-Rautha's head on a spike."

warnings:  blood and gore, graphic descriptions of violence (reader and others), allusions to noncon/incest/pedophilia (Feyd Rautha and the Baron), referenced past abuse, blood kink, predator/prey kink, allusions to dubcon, knife kink, rough unprotected PiV, slapping, flashback to Feyd-Rautha warning maybe i should say, drinking and making dubious decisions... pls lmk if i left any out.

notes: hi to my friends here who are reading this series! thanks for the patience I know its been a little bit since i last updated but in return, this chapter is the longest yet with almost 11k words... i promise itll be worth it!! things are moving along!! new chapter on AO3 is also coming soon :) as always please feel invited to leave feedback, its how i get motivated! love u all i hope you enjoy!

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My Dearest Niece,

I received your letter with great joy, though I regret to inform you that I will not be able to attend the Space Trade Referendum or the arraignment as planned. It is with love that I must share the news that I am set to give birth around that time, and I am unable to travel in my condition.

Please know that my absence does not diminish my support for you in any way.  Though I cannot be there in person, I will be thinking of you and sending you all of my love and support from afar. Should things become dire, please remember that you are always welcome at House Ginaz. Our doors are open to you, and we will do whatever we can to assist you in any way possible.

Take care, my dear niece, and know that you are never alone.

With all my love and best wishes,

Lady Ginaz

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The planets look tiny and unimportant from so vastly far away. 

You've decided, in the last few days, that you are not particularly keen on space travel; The ship that transports you and the members of House Atreides is incredibly massive and freezing cold, and the empty void of space that sits just to the right of your bed has been a present reminder of your mortality. 

You stare silently out the expansive window that covers one whole wall of your chambers; out into the deep dark, your breath nearly fogging the plexiglass from your proximity. Your lip, chewed raw, has cracked down the middle and bleeds gently as you sigh, one hand toying with the sleeve of the dress you wear. 

It is now only three days until the summit Referendum is drawn - four days, then, until your fate is charged against the rest of the Landsraad - when you could lose your planet and your name, your right to marry Paul, your claim to the Noble class. 

"I want you to be prepared," Duke Leto had said last night at dinner, "Baron Harkonnen will be in attendance, and it is likely that either of his nephews will be with him." 

Your eyes bore holes into the window before you, showcasing the wide expanse of space that stretches deeper than you could fathom. The thought of seeing Feyd-Rautha festers in your mind; a dangerous, hungry beast that cannot be quelled but with the taste of flesh and blood. 

It is with a twist of your gut that you realize you want him to be there. 

Ever fiber of your being screams with the desire to see him, to scream, to rip the skin off of his face. More fearfully, though: deep down inside you feel a longing, quiet and unsure, that sings in your heart. There were those days when Feyd would come to you late at night, muscles weary, and he would lay with you; nothing more than his head on your chest, his breaths labored, as he fought back the gruesome memories of his uncle's vile ways. He never particularly opened up about his experience completely - but in those moments, where you'd tenderly stroke his head and listen to his uneven breathing, he'd whisper evil truths to you; truths that prove even the worst person you know can be hurt by another. 

You'd shared moments of tenderness with Feyd-Rautha, even though it is now completely unimaginable - warped and disintegrated by the cruelty of your stay, the horror of their culture. Fingers, dipping into a bowl of black paint to be smeared over his taught torso; Lips, smeared with the same color and pressed on his palms, where he'd clutch blades in the arena.

Small gifts; the bright red wax currants from your homeworld, smuggled when the Baron was none the wiser; a new dress in your wardrobe the day after he'd ripped one apart. Feyd's hands, surprisingly soft when he was placated - pressing against your waist, or smoothing over your cheeks. The same hands that hit your skin and the same lips that said horrible things to you; the teeth that broke skin, the blades that cut yours. 

There was once a semblance of care between you, however skewed and twisted it was; Now, all that remains is hatred. 

A knock at your door makes your brow furrow; the view from the plexiglass window, thick and slightly warped, reflects your surprised expression. You are not set to land on Kaitain for another few hours. 

"Yes?" You call, voice sharp; you are unable to shake the anger that has grown in you the last few minutes reminiscing upon your relationship with Feyd-Rautha. 

"My lady," Your handmaid calls - it is not Hestia, but a sweet maid who is younger and less inclined to speak freely. "Lord Paul wishes to speak with you." 

You find yourself relieved that it is him who wishes to speak with you, not sure you have the energy to face anyone else now. You send her a small faux smile, hoping to ease her anxiety - wherever it may stem from - and nod, "Let him in, please." 

A few moments before he walks in, steps quiet against the floor as you stare out into the vast darkness. It's been over a day since you've seen Paul - consciously, at least - and he looks quite different away from the winds of Caladan. His eyes are dark, framed by those long lashes, face more serious than usual; a feat you never thought possible. Much like yourself, he is dressed quite formally - curls tamed away from his face, dark dress uniform that has the brass sigil of Atreides on the collar. 

You wetten your lips as he arrives next to you; you taste the tang of your own blood, familiar and warm, as you greet him. "Hello, Paul." You say, turning to nod at him. 

You haven't spoken alone since the few nights ago in the garden; during meals and meetings upon your travels to Kaitain you've exchanged pleasantries and discussed options for trade routes and embargoes, but nothing more. It's a good thing you're seeing him now, you remind yourself - to become acquainted with being seen publicly by his side. You'll land in a few hours and stand together upon arrival; a flicker of anxiety flares within you. 

I don't know why you pretend to know anything about me. 

He says your name, and it gives you that odd feeling in your stomach at his timbre. His eyes don't hold yours for long after greeting you; silently, he resigns himself to watch out over the ocean of space with you. Perhaps it's the sense of foreboding that lingers over your head, or the desperation that crawls through your veins when it hits you; while unlikely, there is still a possibility that you could lose your engagement to Paul in a few days, and by extension, lose the only grasp at power you might have. 

His breathing is low and slow; you match your own breaths subconsciously, unaware of the comfort you find in his presence. "Will you sit in with your father for the drawings?" You ask, unsure why he's chosen to visit you before it is time to land and chosen to remain mute; but you are curious to know what he is thinking. It will be more beneficial to be on each other's good side going into the next few days, and it's better to start with tortuous slow talk as to avoid the arguments that are bound to sprout up. 

"Yes," He affirms, "But not for the trial; only House representatives may sit on the bench." 

You hum, your hands clasping in front of you, smoothing over the rich texture of your dress. You're not sure if it's a relief or another anxiety that Paul will not be sitting front row at your arraignment.

The starlight reflects in his eyes as he stares at you, as if unsure what to do. A violent rush of emotion floods through you - you realize in this moment just how much you've come to rely on him; not in the way you had with Feyd-Rautha, where you'd had to rely on him out of necessity, but because he understands what you are feeling, if not just a tiny bit. 

It's been a lonely many years, and to finally trust someone - with your life, your future - uncertainty blooms in your gut untastefully, but you are finally beginning to let yourself ignore it. You're learning to let things happen as they come; resistance holds more pain than fortune in some cases. It's much easier to ignore your troubles when Paul's standing beside you, watching the stars silently. 

"I used to get nauseous during space travel." He says quietly; introspectively. The corner of your lip quirks; you haven't felt too good yourself since setting off on the ship. You debate even responding, but curiosity piques you as you turn to regard him.

"Have you traveled off-planet much?" You ask. You've only ever been to Sabberon, Giedi Prime, and Caladan; Though once, when you were just barely fifteen, you convinced your father to take you to one of the smaller moons under the jurisdiction of your House, but fell ill and had to stay home. 

He shrugs with one shoulder in that peculiar way he does, shaking his head. "Not particularly, but I've gone with my father to High Councils and meetings on Kaitain." 

You nod, considering. "Is it really just one big city?" You ask, willing to play a pleasant game of small talk. His eyes are locked on a particularly bright star in the distance. Paul's response is thoughtful, his expression distant as he recalls, "It's mostly Corrinth City," he muses, choosing his words carefully. "There's certainly more variety than just buildings, but the parks and vegetation they have lack authenticity."

A wistful smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you remember the natural beauty of your home planet, impressed by Paul's fascination with different cultures and planets. "Fresh air." You mutter. He watches you as you turn back to the glass, toying with the necklace in your hands. "Giedi Prime is similar," you confide, a touch of bitterness seeping into your words. "Not a single part of nature there that wasn't synthesized."

It's quiet for a heavy moment in which you're thrust into black and white memories of thick air, an oppressive sun, unwelcoming glares and hisses. 

There's a brief pause as he considers his next words, a thoughtful furrow appearing between his brows, "I can't imagine what it must have been like," he admits, his tone gentle. "But I admire your resilience."

It's not a particularly enticing subject; the thought of Feyd-Rautha has you seeing red, and the prospect of it happening in a setting like you're about to be in is sickening to you. You are tired of people repeatedly telling you that you're resilient or strong after being forced to survive such tragedies; there is nothing irrepressible about it when enduring is the only choice. You sigh, "Maybe one day people will stop telling me how strong I am." 

He turns to look at you in your peripheral. "And what would you have them tell you instead?" He questions. 

You find yourself interested in the small glint that reflects within his green stare; attention fully on you, you've never particularly noticed what Hestia had once said to be true: There is a side to Paul which enjoys a small bit of humor, however odd it may be. And perhaps you are starting to recognize a similar side within you.

A pang of longing washes over you suddenly; a selfish wish. To enjoy your youth while you still have it grasped within your hands, to relish in the attention of the handsome boy who stands before you - no matter who he is - and to bask in the wealth and prosperity of the house you're marrying in to. When you were eighteen, before leaving Sabberon, you would have felt overjoyed to have such a connection with your future husband. Even in the eclipse of your anxiety of the days to come, a resentment grows within you - towards everything, perhaps, that threw you into the midst of crimes you did not commit, to have to answer the call for your family after those who cast it killed them. 

"I don't know, maybe something shallow and complementary for once? That they like my hair, or the dress that I'm wearing." Your voice is tired - less sardonic than usual, though, and you find a kind of warmth within it. You shrug, "What do people usually tell noble ladies like me?" 

Paul stares at you, and for a moment you flounder under the scrutiny: have you just embarrassed yourself, for acting so childish? But then, who is to say you shouldn't act childish, when your young adulthood has been so tainted and tarnished? 

His small grin eases your worries quickly and even stirs something deep within you; you've never seen his expression so relaxed, so pleased except in dreams; The thought sends your stomach flipping. "Well, I do like your hair." He says simply, shrugging.

You send him a flat glare, ignoring the heat in your face at the blunt compliment. This is certainly untread ground. At your expression, Paul shrugs, pointedly staring at your knife that lies untouched by your resting area. "To be fair, if someone tried to compliment your appearance I believe you'd carve their tongue out."

You scoff, "Just because you think I'm some monster-" 

He doesn't let you go off on another tangent this time; he dares interrupt you instead, tilting his head as if to prove a point. "-And as for your dress," he added, his tone teasing as he takes the time to take in your appearance, "I like the color. But I'd say it pales in comparison to the woman wearing it."

 You roll your eyes at the cliché, the way his grin looks innocent and boyish in the starlight, and you shake your head. Concealing your heated cheeks with a glare, you huff, "I should cut out your tongue for that. That was painful." 

"I'm simply following your orders, my lady." He defends, hiding a small laugh. His own amused smile looks completely foreign and quite beautiful upon his features, you can't look away. "Shallow and complimentary." 

"I didn't mean it like that." You mutter, crossing your arms. He turns towards you; the viridian of his uniform is striking against the matte architecture around you. "You seem not to know what you want." He shakes his head. 

This is, for some reason, sobering. 

You clear your throat, smile dying down as your thoughts spiral, concern growing the closer you close in on Kaitain.  

You hadn't acted much like a noble lady, especially when you'd arrived; though Duncan does not hold it over you, the look on everyone's faces after they'd seen the claw marks you'd left him is fully ingrained into your memory. You'd lashed out, been cold and distant, unwelcoming. Even as Paul tries to navigate through the thick haze of both of your dreams, you've been difficult - but you've come to understand that his introspective nature, which you initially perceived as snootiness, is just introversion and a sharp mind.  

"I may not act like it all the time," you say smally, unsure who you're admitting it to - him, or you - "but I am very grateful for your help. Your house has shown more kindness than I deserve. And I'm sorry for the times that I seem less than so." 

Like in the garden the other day, you almost add; hesitating, you let the words hang above your head. It's a hard thing, to trust him with your future. Despite the uncertainty that looms over you both, there's a quiet reassurance in his presence - even as he takes a step back from the window and looks towards the hall. 

He doesn't say anything, but the corners of his lips uptick in a gentle smile. 

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The weather is warm and sunny when Paul steps out of the space port.

The House Atreides is received by members of the Imperial House; Paul's father pulls one of the men into a tight embrace for a moment as he watches, a smile growing on his father's face. Each one of them wears a mask, even you; Paul stares on at the people before him with his chin up, just as he was taught in his youth. 

You stand next to him, his father on his right and his mother on the other side. The sun burns brightly today - it's about midday, and though he is exhausted from travel, Paul's gaze is immediately drawn to the grandeur of the cityscape; the bustling city that reflects in your hairpiece as you tilt your head in his peripheral.

There are towering spires of gleaming metal - gold, too - and glass that stretches towards the heavens, reflecting the fountains below them. The fountains adorn the main plaza where a convoy waits to shuttle the house to the lodgings -  cascading waters create a soothing symphony amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. 

The entire walk, you stand beside him, your back straight as ever; your eyes are wide with awe at the vibrant energy of the city. Banners and posters line the boulevards, boasting of the Trade referendum; convoys with tinted shields carry other Noble Houses to and fro under the watchful gaze of the large conference building that towers above the other theaters and galleries. 

Paul never cared too much for a large city, preferring the sparce Cala City with its docks and canals. 

The ride to the accommodations is filled with views, too: grand theaters and lush parks, each more impressive than the last - a gentle breeze, barely a cloud in the sky above all the skyscrapers, statues of previous Corrino Emperors watching down the boulevards with golden stares.

His parents murmur gently in front of him - you, however, stare out the window solemnly, your eyes stuck on the large building in the distance: The Imperial Opal Palace.

There is a worry between your brows that does not subside the entire trip towards the accommodations; to save your dignity, Paul pretends to not see it. 

He is likewise stuck with a sense of apprehension for the days ahead, but doesn't dare voice his thoughts out loud. He's spoken with his father already about his concerns - The political landscape of the Landsraad is fraught with tension now more than ever; every decision made during the referendum will have far-reaching consequences. Not to mention, the very present chance that, after the arraignment, you may be stripped of your House's land and wealth - most of which was absorbed by the Harkonnens but some of which still remains on Sabberon.

Blinking away drooping eyelids, Paul rests his chin in his palm. Sleeping has become quite a chore as of late, and he's found that more often than not, each slumber leaves him less rested than before.

It's only thirty minutes until you're being received again at the gates of their lodgings; A plethora of people in uniform who bow to the members of House Atreides and their staff before shaking hands, pressing small kisses to you and his mother's knuckles. You look stricken with panic; though your face is completely schooled and placated, he can see in the tenseness of your neck and the way your eyes flicker sharply that you've found that feeling again - to run. He almost feels it, too. 

Glancing sideways at you while staff directs everyone to their quarters, Paul feels his hand brush against yours; a fleeting accident, but the look you send him before entering your own quarters is less than chilly - he turns forward, leaving you without a word when a maid gestures him down a different hallway. 

The days on Kaitain are long and filled with conferences, galas, and 'town halls' in which Paul takes diligent note of every single person, who they are, and what their stance is on the upcoming voting; His father insists on debriefing each evening and then again in the morning. There is little time for rest and even less time for speaking with the others. 

Paul cannot help but miss the routine of life on Caladan; perhaps he's grown keen to the architecture that has held up his entire life - intricate windows and hexagonal wooden floorboards that creak every third left foot - but the streets and buildings of Corrinth City are much less pleasant and too gaudy for his taste. 

The sun is more inviting on this planet; he decides the intermittent gloom that creeps into Castle Caladan might have put an even worse damper on the anticipatory moods of him and his House members. 

During supper the second evening, his mother mentions the court building she'd accompanied you to with Thufir earlier in the day. You'd gone to provide your genetic data for the upcoming trial and arraignment, as well as sign the correct paperwork as final heir to your house. Paul has to suppress a look of exhaustion when you make a face at the thought of the courthouse. 

"Was it bad?" His father asks you, a glint of amusement in his eye. You, as you often do, miss the jesting in his voice. "It was perfectly pleasant, I suppose, despite why we were there. I didn't quite like the golden dome, though." 

They love their gold here, Paul thinks. Your eyes flicker to him after a split second and he blinks, somewhat startled by the sudden attention.  

It's over as quick as it came, and dinner sullies on. 

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You don't see much of Paul or Duke Leto in these days leading up to the Referendum; Attending the meetings and councils for the Great Council are forbidden for you. Deemed a person of interest, you are not allowed a seat at this conference; instead you stay back and try to ignore the impending doom growing in your gut. 

The few days between your arrival and the actual Referendum are littered with pointless social gatherings; you observe as Paul attends every single meeting, gala, dinner, and everything in-between with a grace you never actually thought imaginable. He's up bright and early each morning, mumbling deeply at the breakfast table and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while reviewing subjects with his father. Besides the short visit to the court building to provide genetic data, there is nothing for you to do besides wait for the others to return and relay information to you, waiting to hear your thoughts.

There is a play you attend at the opera house that one of the Emperor's daughters is also in attendance to; this is a big buzz for the other Nobles, who you have grown to detest even more through the last few days. Lady Jessica keeps her stay with you when she can but attends several of her own more mysterious meetings off-campus; some that leave you wondering and doubting, spending hours of your day staring at the wall, trying to recover the full knowledge behind the Shortening of the Way.

Hestia was unable to come with you, and though you enjoy the company of your maid, she is quite jumpy around you, and stares with fear at the knife that sleeps beside you on your pillow. Despite being around many, you still feel alone - more than you have in a while. Perhaps that is why you fall asleep so early the night before the Referendum.

Perhaps that is why you dream what you dream. 

Your feet slap bare against the cold floor of the halls; your breath comes, but it is ragged. 

If Giedi Prime's atmosphere was capable of it, you'd imagine a harsh ice storm slamming against the echoing walls, berating and mocking your racing heart. Plumes of clouded breaths betraying you as you pant, holding a shaky hand to your lips as you turn your neck. 

A distant shout; His voice rolls, feet sliding down the same hallway upon which you crouch; Your heart thunders in your chest, fear striking you as the dull heat in your stomach grows lower, aching in your core. 

You should not feel excited for what is to come - but something dark in you dares Feyd-Rautha to come near you, to try and best you in combat; you, unlike the others he fights, are not drugged. 

Despite your fear you're as sound as ever tonight, because it is your nameday. And you know what the Harkonnen grooms gift to their betrothed on their first nameday spent together - it is strapped to your waistband, sheathed and perfectly pristine. 

After tonight, that blade will weep with blood.  

A deep chuckle through the walls; you slide as quietly as possible from shadow to shadow, the billowy dress skirt you don providing no ease. Perhaps another day, you'd find this entire thing a complete waste of time - if Feyd-Rautha felt the need to exercise his control over you, he need not look further than, say, your living quarters, which were small and attached to his; the slaves they gave to serve you, with their tongues cut off; the complete regulation over anyone you come into contact with; the times you go to the arena and train or fight. 

Every part of your life, he can control - except one. 

One part of you, nestled deep down from the last few years on Sabberon with your mother holds onto the power of sex; a power of yours that Feyd-Rautha yields to quicker than anybody else. 

It is not exactly true, either, to say that he takes things of that nature from you unwillingly; though he'd probably enjoy to anyways. Because the worst part of it all is that deep down - in the evenings, when the shadows glint over his brow bone, in the mornings, when you agree to paint him before he goes to the arena, when that smooth chuckle echoes in your chamber, when you take down yet another competitor in the arena and you meet his hungry eyes, or even when his hand wraps around your throat - you like it. You love that deep arousal, the simmering fear that bubbles into hunger.

You've begun to crave the darkness that spills out of him, relish in the feeling of him on your body far after he's gone. 

Feyd-Rautha's appetite cannot be satiated; he is hungry for you, for warm skin against his, constantly. He has his Harpies, and you are thankful for that; without them you fear you'd have to kill him in his sleep. 

Tonight is different, though - because you have just celebrated the first steps in a long-seated tradition of House Harkonnen and are now hiding in the depths of the stronghold, hiding away and hoping your betrothed cannot find you. 

The walls creak, hallways groan; something disgustingly personified about some of the areas of Barony's Castle that sets your skin on edge. Fingers shakily skim over the leather hilt of your new blade - curved, silver and foreign, it is engraved with an odd language that you do not wish to read. 

Suddenly, a chilling laugh echoes through the empty halls; back flying rigid, shivers wash over your spine. Freezing in your tracks, your eyes scan the darkness for any sign of movement, knowing he is much closer than you'd wished. 

You've made it - from what you can tell - a long time running from Feyd; he grows impatient with every breath, every step - though you are not on your way towards either of your quarters, you wish you had been. There is a dull ache that has sprouted in your anticipation that you know Feyd-Rautha will be eager to satisfy your arousal after the ritual; though you are unsure if either of you will be in a state good enough for it. 

You hear a whisper around a corner and shrink back further into the shadows of the room you've slid into. Across your vision lies a grand table, its legs a thick dark wood with a glossy finish in the moonlight. 

And then, like a specter, his shadow slides up against the backlit hall - casting a tall frame over the glint on the table. You resist a gasp, your eyes pealing over the twin knives that hang dauntingly in his grasp. "Come out, little pet," he taunts, his voice a sinister whisper. "There's no use hiding. I can smell your fear."

He might be bluffing, but you're not sure; there is a part of you that has fear quaking through your bones and nearly sets your teeth to chatter - but a larger part of you is ravenous, hungry for a chance to get your hands on him. 

You press yourself against the cold stone wall, heart pounding in your chest as you make a quick plan; you're not foolish enough to believe you are any match for Feyd-Rautha in your current state of panic - But still, you refuse to give in to despair; You might be able to outwit him for just a bit longer. 

He draws closer, entering the room. The footsteps echo ominously in the silence and send a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With a silent prayer to the void, you dart down a narrow corridor, footsteps quick and light as you seek refuge in the darkness. But Feyd-Rautha is relentless in his pursuit, his laughter echoing through the halls as he gives chase.

"You can run, little mouse," he calls, his voice filled with cruel amusement. "I'll still find you."

Desperate, you press yourself into the shadows, not daring to breath as you wait for him to pass; then, with a surge of courage, you spring from your hiding place, drawing your knife from its place at your hip.

For a brief moment, your blades clash; he, with a small light of shock in his dark eyes, and you with fury and anger. You're too weary from running for over an hour - he, on the other hand, had adopted a leisurely stroll through the castle he's known for years longer than yourself; barely winded, he attains the upper hand in moments. 

You get several cuts in; he, per tradition, does not have a shield on and takes the pain with a glinting smirk.

You relish in the crimson that beads at the seam of each strike.

But you are too little, too late; in a sudden blur of motion, he is upon you, his frame crashing into yours with a force that sends you sprawling to the cold stone floor.

The impact is harsh; you squint your eyes to ward off the dizzy spell that accompanies the ache in your skull. For a moment, you lay there, stunned by the impact and mind reeling as you struggle to catch your breath. Feyd-Rautha follows you to the floor swiftly- you feel his weight pressing down on you like a jolt of electricity.

It's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before; a heady mix of fear and desire, arousal and revulsion, all swirling together in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that makes you scream out, exhausted and petrified. Feyd-Rautha's hands roam over your form, one blade still in his fist; lifting the tip of it, he traces the curve of your jawline gently. You gasp at the cold metal, the sweet sharpness slicing gently down your cheekbone. When the blood pebbles, his tongue is there to lap it up; a shaky sigh you admit into his ear lets him grunt and from there, he's all but forgotten the purpose of the hunt itself. 

You, foolishly, drop your blade in a last-ditch hope he will too; instead he leans just so, dragging the curved knife over your neck and down between your breasts, where he begins seamlessly slicing your dress down the middle. You squirm under his thighs; not for discomfort - no, that would be too sane - but in desire, your body alight with a primal hunger you cannot deny. 

Your mind rebels against the intrusion, screaming out; you should push him away, fight back against the overwhelming tide of desire threatening to consume you - but why shouldn't you? He will be your husband one day - there is nothing wrong about satisfying your desires with him. Perhaps it will distract him from his task.

You yield easily; into his lips, a whisper against sharpened black teeth and a hungry growl. Your body melts against his touch in a dizzying haze of surrender and desire - "Have you ever tried spice, my pet?" You think he asks. You shake your head, body trembling as the knife lowers across your waistline, nicking against the pair of underwear you don. Your hips buck with desire in response. 

He hums, tongue sliding from your bleeding cheek to your chest; teeth marking you as he chooses to do every night; over the cacophony of yellows, blues, purples, blacks and browns. He tsks into your throat as he throws the blade to the ground; having cut open your dress you are nearly bare for him, spread out and eager on the stone floor. "When we go to Arrakis we will have it." He promises; an odd thing to remark but you can barely focus as he presses his length, hard and eager, to your heat.  

Your eyes close, trying to visualize where your knife's gone, and where his are; because at some point, he will have to finish the job, and you will be prepared. A harsh twist of your budding nipple has your back arching, pain and pleasure flaring within you. 

"Are you listening to me?" He growls. You yelp in pain, hand slapping him hard across the face. His eyes roll back as he inhales sharply; a twitch as he roll his hips against you. "I'd listen better if your cock were inside me." You dare say, fed up with waiting; you glare impatiently as he stares with pupils so wide they swallow your next words. A hand on your throat, pressing you into the ground with a snarl. 

"When I am inside you, you tend to forget your own name." He grunts into your ear, hand fumbling with his own belt; with anticipation you move against him, hand snaking down to pull his length from his slacks. 

"You caught me," You breathe into his ear, risking a reminder of the game you'd been set to play and how deliciously it'd been forgotten. "Claim your prize, na-Baron." 

He does. 

Unfortunately for you, you are not as lucky as you'd hoped after Feyd enters you. Indeed, minutes later when you are at the very apex of your own pleasure and he is just about to find his, he must come to his own senses; and that is very unfortunate for you. 

Your legs tightening around his hips, back arched and bare chest pressed against the rough texture of his tunic, you barely feel his hand slip from your throat and upwards, to your left above your head. If you'd opened your eyes, you'd have seen the sadistic smirk upon his face when he thumbed the virgin blade, as your breaths of satisfaction fogged it up. 

You feel it very presently when it happens. 

You've hit your high; spasming, gasping, fingernails drawing blood in streaks across Feyd-Rautha's scarred back, yet you feel the blade as it pierces through your skin. 

You freeze for a moment and your eyes widen; he's watching you, eyes fanatic and excited as he plunges the blade just between your ribs; just so, shallow enough to avoid serious injury but still enough to stake claim. You scream louder than you ever have before. He moans along with your curdled, cracking voice as he slows his thrusts, your legs spasming and arms pushing him away in shock and pain. 

His spend leaks from you as you gasp, hands shaking as blood seeps from your torso, hatred coursing through your very veins. How dare he defile you, take your own virgin blade and stain it with your own crimson; you're luckier than most Harkonnen brides, perhaps if only for the fact that you knew of this ritual before it began, but you are filled with a newfound hate for your betrothed. 

It doesn't make it any less real when the wound heals but the scar does not; the feeling of Feyd-Rautha's tongue lapping your blood never quite subsiding even years later.  

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The day of the referendum finds Paul in an extremely dreary mood.

He is plagued by a horrific dream - one he knows is more of a memory - and cannot bring himself to eat breakfast, stuck avoiding your stare all morning as the members of House Atreides break fast together.

There is no time to speak with you about what you dreamt, but the fear that has clawed in the back of his mind - what is being set up for us? - is starting to wage a serious war within him.

The minutes tick by in droves as Paul's mind whirs; calculating constantly- your eyes, flashing to his every time he thinks about you, as if you know. You couldn't possibly know, though? 

His mother stares at him intently, too; a gaze that he'd usually just find mildly concerning but has since grown with every day pushing towards the outcome of this trip. 

His father discusses the plans drawn from the previous day with you and you're perceptive; insightful as you double-check Gurney and Thufir agree with your opinion on fruits exports at the end of summer harvest, should the redrawn routes go less in the House's favor. At one point, to Paul's surprise, you even coax a short laugh out of Gurney and the Duke. 

But Paul is too consumed to tune in himself. 

Chewing on his lip, he sticks a slice of melon between his teeth and chews half-heartedly, struck by another bout of confusion concerning the entangled dreams. 

At first, he had considered the possibility that it was some manipulation by the Bene Gesserit. Something that was cast by the Reverend Mother and carried out by his mother - a subtle ploy to influence your relationship, to harden the bond that was indeed barely there at all. This can't be, though; Paul has grown up his entire life preparing to marry a complete stranger, as is requested by almost every noble person in the known universe - why, then, wouldn't they trust him to carry through with it, even if he had once believed you to be a spy? There is no dire need to ensure the marriage would happen - both of you have admitted your reluctance, but not once have you nor him declared to refuse the union.

But this last dream was a memory, he's sure; and he wasn't in it, which implies many things he wish not unpack presently. Not to mention that even his mother, with all her training and abilities, has never found a semblance of this kind of connection, through conscious or subconscious, with him. 

A stroke of concern clouds his mind at this; might this be a manifestation of his Mentat abilities - some latent aspect of his training that allowed him to perceive the world in ways others couldn't? To see into your mind and, in turn, project his into yours?

Paul's eyes accidentally find yours again; he casts his gaze to his plate, recalling unpleasantly the blood-curdling scream you'd let out as that same knife you still carry was plunged into your ribs. A sense of unease stirs deep within his core.

Resolutely, there are other matters to attend to that are more time-sensitive. He and his father are informed that their transport has arrived, and so with tight nods and farewells, they leave for the final addendum. 

Paul will have to ask Thufir about these concerns after the convention; But for now, Paul tucks the question away in the recesses of his mind, awaiting the opportunity to seek answers.

The chamber hums with anticipation as Paul sits attentively beside his father - looking over the crowd, he notes representatives from each of the Great Houses Major and Minor of the Landsraad, along with delegates from the Spacing Guild and stakeholders of the Imperium fill nearly every seat in the grand hall, their voices a low murmur punctuated by occasional bursts of conversation.

He can only imagine how it will feel for you tomorrow; each face staring down at you as you perch on a stool, subjected to answering for the family that never answered you. He bites his lip, recalling the trunk he'd requested be brought with them on the trip to Kaitain; perhaps you could use a distraction tonight from what's to come - or would that just make you more skittish, more ready to bite any hand near you? 

He hopes you aren't agitated by what he'll offer this evening - don't you deserve to enjoy at least one part of this whole trip, even if the worst may come in the morning? Paul suppresses a groan, wondering when any of that ever started to really matter to him. 

The lights are too bright and it makes his eyes squint; drawing, somewhat unintentionally, to an unpleasant splattering of black and paled, sickly skin just several rows away.

His spine straightens, stomach curdling. 

"House Harkonnen." He whispers; his father hears it, though, and his eyes trail over to the grotesquely gigantic man who takes up two seats - the machine suspending him as he reposes with several others around him. Memories, faint and not his, flash in his mind and disgust trickles through his veins.

Paul flares in fury; His father sighs, "Paul, you mustn't start anything." 

As if he was going to walk up and slit Baron Harkonnen's throat in the middle of the Referendum?

He grits his teeth, "I won't." He says calmly, eyes stinging from the stare he casts. 

A deep-seated rage simmers within him even as the meeting begins; fueled by a sense of injustice and a fiercely warm burning in his chest when he thinks of you- left to fight alone for years. The Harkonnens represent everything he despises: cruelty, deceit, and a complete disregard for the well-being of others - his House's deepest enemy, the vilest of beings. 

Paul maintains his composure and pays attention to the council, but an extremely violent hatred gnaws at him relentlessly. Is one of those heads glinting in the fluorescents Feyd-Rautha? Will you have to stare into his eyes as the charges are read to you tomorrow? 

His fingers twitch, but he does not dare disrupt the meeting. Now is not the time for recklessness; Paul will bide his time, watching and waiting for the opportunity- with a small flicker, he casts down the side of him that wishes to see Feyd-Rautha's head on a spike.

Things do not get better after this. 

One by one, the representatives from each House cast their votes, their voices ringing out in the vast hall. Paul watches on with a sinking feeling as House after House sides with the proposed changes; Not necessarily a sealed fate for the economy of House Atreides, but certainly putting it at risk should the Baron decide to leverage his holdings.

After a recess, the final votes are tallied; Imperial Mentats, their eyes flashing, approve of the calculations. The presiding official steps forward - Paul, too lost in his thoughts of your dream last night, had missed the man's name - and addresses the gathered delegates.

"Esteemed members of the Landsraad, members of the Imperium," he begins, his voice carrying through the chamber. "The new spacing trade routes have been decided."

Paul's mind whirls with possibilities as the herald of change continues, "The routes are set to transform, with a large expansion through the Epsilon Opiuchi system and the Campas system," the herald announces, "along with direct routes through the Core Worlds of the Imperium." 

As the implications of the announcement sink in, Paul feels a bizarre wash of calm; If nothing changes within the proprieties of the surrounding systems, the new routes present opportunities for expansion and growth. On the other hand, they also represented a shift in the balance of power within the Imperium; the Spacing Guild is in the Harkonnen's palm and the risk of the Baron leveraging this against the rest of the Landsraad is concerning.

Paul pushes through his mental calculations to admit that despite the changes, there are still open routes they could take without relying solely on Spacing Guild transportation if the market becomes saturated. With a quick turn to his father, he makes eye contact with Gurney. "What do we do now?" Paul asks, voice barely a whisper. His father's jaw is tight.

"We adapt." He responds. 

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You're in the beginning stages of panic when the request comes. 

Having bathed and taken a good thirty minutes to stare at the wall, letting your insides eat you alive in apprehension of tomorrow, you're startled when your handmaid comes and informs you the Lord Paul Atreides has requested your presence in his chambers.

Your brows furrow; it's much too late for that, but you are certain you'll go crazy if you spend the evening on your own. 

You barely blink, hair still drying as you slip on a night gown, following the woman down the hall. Your anxiety is gnawing on you from the inside; and how does Paul seem to find you in every moment, with any weakness you may find? Several times before he's taken the grace to check in on you, be it out of duty or order by his parents or simply his good will and empathy, you are caught off-guard each time and still keenly unsure how to react.

Supper this evening was an affair dampened by the recounting of the official Referendum outcome; an event which boasted very little confidence in your small group considering the possibility of Harkonnen route monopoly. You’d barely touched your food and Paul looked more trouble than he normally does (another feat, considering the constant analysis he seems to impose upon his mind at any moment). In fact, you do wish to speak more about it- and freely, if you dare say so, without the hawk ears of the Sisterhood nor the political influence of the others to weigh in. You'd like to hear what Paul really thinks about it. 

When you do enter Paul's room, you stare, bewildered, at the sight before you. 

It's certainly not what you expect. 

The table, positioned just near the lit hearth, is gaudy and full of at least five wine bottles - two fine crystal glasses rest, untouched, next to them. 

Paul sits, his expression somber, as he uncorks one of the bottles; with a pop, the rich aroma of the wine fills the air and you tilt your head, walking cautiously further. 

This is certainly not what you'd expected.

 "Celebrating with a few bottles of wine, are we?" you remark, tone laced with bitterness. 

Paul looks up, meeting your gaze with resignation. "There's little else to do but drink." he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of irony. This is not necessarily true - this planet is full of parks, theaters, galleries, clubs, even. Paul seems uninterested in this tonight, though, and you barely got yourself over to his own chambers without disassociating for less than thirty seconds - there's not a chance the two of you will be venturing out into the Kaitain air tonight. You've got quite a big day ahead of you tomorrow. 

You take the seat opposite him, body heavy with worry. "I suppose." you concede, fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you watch him pick up the bottle. "Your hard work's all but finished."

He doesn't respond to the jab and it makes you feel even worse.  

"You told me once that you've never tried wine." He states simply, as if you weren't teetering on the edge of the worst day of your life, "I thought you'd like to taste." He says, tilting the bottle into your glass; the liquid flows viscously, a deep maroon color that reminds you of blood. You suppress the warmth that blows through your chest at this, surprised he remembers those off-handed few sentences you exchanged so many moons ago.

"They taste mostly the same to me, but I prefer red." His eyes don't leave the crystal, watching as it stains with the dark color. 

You're so shocked - bewildered - and exhausted that you can only grin; a true, unimbued smile, because you do not want to think about what will happen tomorrow, and perhaps Paul can see that. 

Looking at the glass, you bite your lip: you should have just stayed in your quarters and gone to sleep; But you don't necessarily want to be alone, either.

You wait until he's filled his own glass and then clink the rim of yours to his; watching as he lifts the liquid to his lips. His eyes flicker, lifting a brow when he sees you hesitating. "It's not poison." He mutters dryly. You sigh, taking a sip yourself as you avert your eyes. 

It's bitter, but not in an unpleasant way - your gums tingle slightly, the smell of oak and a deep hint of pitted fruits. Cherries, plums, dark licorice... It almost tingles on your tongue. Spicy, deep.

You're pleasantly surprised as you swallow, making a noise of content. It feels warm all the way down and leaves a peculiar taste on your tongue after. 

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Paul's lips are stained a reddish color by the end of the third glass.

Things seemed to slip from your grasp by the tasting of the second bottle - a Zincal, from the Southern Continent of Caladan. It was much more robust, and though Paul doesn't know much about wine he has studied his homeplanet's culture enough to impress any guest who visits - and talks you through each tasting as if he were a professor. It almost makes you want to laugh - the first sign that you are not completely your sane self. 

The second sign is the low simmering heat that begins to grow the second that Paul leans back in his seat and stretches his shoulders back; the uniform from earlier discarded he is still in his under-tunic, a white number that was more unbuttoned than when you'd arrived earlier in the night.

His chest and exposed throat, gleaming and flushed from the heat of the room and the tannins of the wine, glisten gently. Your heart pounds hard in your throat; is this what being intoxicated feels like? 

You're sure your lips are just as purple-stained as Paul's, but your mind is too fuzzy to consider this at all. You feel warm, surely the fire in the hearth is too high - your cheeks are on fire and your mind is more at ease and foggy than you've even felt in your dreams. 

There's that distinct feeling again that you'd had days ago on board the ship before landing at Kaitain; like yourself, but more careless, free. Content, despite the doom that rumbles in the near distance. 

On the fourth tasting - a bubbly white wine that is crisper than snow and delicate as lace - you feel yourself loosen, opening to Paul and letting words flow freer than you'd ever found before; he listens with gentle, large eyes as you sprawl on the floor, having taken the liberty to get more comfortable in his chambers. 

"I met the Harkonnens when I was young." You explain, leaning back to stare at Paul through your lashes. "My mother was instructed to have me mate with Feyd-Rautha when I came of age, so we saw each other twice before I was sent there. Once at ten, then at fourteen."

There is a noise of disgust from the bedpost.

Paul lays, un-chivalrously sprawled on his bed; head upside-down, his dark curls hanging in tendrils towards the floor. His features, handsome and sharp, look most foreign upside-down, even as you sit on the rug, toying with the strings that have come loose with time.

His eyes are heavy with the effects of the wine, the room smells like cinnamon and cherries. You stifle a laugh at his noise and even more so at the look upon his face at your choice of words. Your hands move over your face but you don't really know if you have control over them, a feeling of lost control sending nothing but amusement to your muddled brain. 

"It was a Bene Gesserit match?" He asks blurrily, but you know he knows the answer. You laugh - had you been slightly less inebriated, you'd never dare let out such a girlish thing, especially in his presence, but you can't help it. 

You swipe hair away from your eyes. "Of course, it was." You sigh, leaning back to support yourself on your palms, head tilted sideways; His brows are incredibly full and move oddly, as if he's trying to make you laugh again. "As is ours."

It's a disquieting thought - one that sends you reeling through your drunk mind, trying to recall the Kwisatz Haderach and all you've learned about it. He seems to be lost in thought, too- his brows have settled low upon his lids in a calculating look, his hands laying neatly folded over his chest.

His face is red; perhaps from the hearth, or the wine, or from laying with the blood rushing to his head - it occurs to you with a bitter jealousy that he looks pretty even like this. 

"It's late." You observe, watching the clock as it chimes; Paul hums in agreement, lazily tilting his glass until the remnants drop onto his tongue. You watch on with a fuzzy, aimless interest.

You should return to your bed- you'll be up in the morning early to be escorted to court.

A pang of fear and resistance courses through you. 

You don't want this evening to end - or, you don't want the morning to begin. Plus, leaving Paul's quarters would require fighting to walk all the way back without rousing anybody else and settling in to bed on your own. And you quite like the blissful ignorance the wine has given you; an excuse to just be you for a night, not the disgraced and fallen noble woman, not the betrothed-twice and likely never again. 

You sigh. "I don't enjoy sleeping like I used to." You hum, finishing your own glass and reaching for the half-empty bottle beside you. Your voice is syrupy and sweeter than usual, and it floats warmly in the room. 

Paul watches your motions with slight amusement, eyes widening microscopically when you try to gnaw off the cork with your teeth. You suppose you’ll be embarrassed by this in the morning.

"I can't imagine why that could be." He muses, voice barely more than a murmur. You like his voice, you realize; it's quiet, deep, but contemplative. 

You shrug, finally plying off the cork, blinking in surprise when your vision shifts with the movement. The vertigo reminds you of the feelings you find in those more pleasant dreams, the ones with Paul; the ticklish feeling of lips fluttering around your throat, a playful nip of teeth against your breast, the tight grip of hands upon your hips, pinning them down - that must be the reason for the words to fall from your lips so carelessly. "Some of my dreams I don't mind." Your words almost echo in the chamber, the fire crackling and spitting in the silence that follows. 

This captures his attention, his eyes snapping to your frame quick; you ignore the gaze, focusing intently on pouring yourself another helping of the wine. This one, the fifth bottle, is more sweet - dessert wine, Paul had explained. 

He doesn't respond to your words, but his lips part in a soft exhalation of breath. 

You offer the bottle to him and numbly he nods, as if still reeling from your admission; you try to ignore the heat in your cheeks at such a profession, the weight of the words occurring to you only after you've said them.

Perhaps due to your state, you finally let yourself consider the thought that's been actively repressed for days: If he's been dreaming similar things as you, does that mean he dreams of... all of it? How does he feel about that?

Your eyes flicker to his hands, how deftly they move as he cracks a few knuckles - the vein that trickles down his arm, the creamy smooth skin that glows against the fire light. Does he see you similarly when he observes you in waking hours? Does he, in turn, dream about your sighs, about how it may feel to run his fingers through your hair as you lie on that white sheet in the middle of nowhere, to touch your heat and feel your desire? 

You’re unsure what flares hot in your stomach at the concept; you can’t find it in you to care.

I don’t mind some of my dreams either.

The voice is low, no more than a distant rumble of thunder in your mind, a decisive declaration; with a fuzzy stare you register that his lips don’t even move. 

Your blink is syrupy as you watch him with intrigue, staring under lidded lashes. 

You can't be bothered to move more than a crawl; your head pounds, but there is a warmth within you that spreads like wildfire in the summer when you move. 

He watches you with a stare that sends a shiver of intrigue over you- a predator frozen, watching prey creep forward. It is not what you expect; you expect wide eyes or maybe a blush - his cheeks are already pink, though, and there is something dark and hungry below his hazy, inebriated stare.

"You got me drunk," You say suddenly, blinking down at him. He stares back at you, lips parting - lips that are plush, pink, stained with the red from the very wine he'd brought all the way from Caladan

"Did I?” he asks, skeptical as he watches you upside down. You nod but it feels sloppy. Truthfully, you've never been safe enough to be drunk before, but you feel more safe than you’ve been in a long time here, on this strange planet, with this strange boy. 

He shakes his head, "I told you to slow down," He furrows his eyebrows like he always does, but it looks very peculiar from where you sit before him, "-you're the one who took it as a challenge instead of a warning." 

You blink, eyelashes slow and syrupy; shaking your head, you shrug. He’s right, he did encourage you to slow down, and you did take it as a challenge. You can't help it. 

His lips are glossy - bitten and swollen, "I had to try them all," You say breathlessly, face hot, "-who knows if I'll be able to afford it after this week." At your words, he scoffs gently; you can smell the wine on his breath as it hits your cheeks.

"My wealth will be yours in just a few weeks. As will my name." He argues, eyes cast onto yours. After all this time, you're still hit with the surrealness of it all when it's said out loud. 

You wonder, briefly, how odd you must look from his perspective; perched back on your shins, one hand in your lap and the other holding the bottle you'd intended to give to him.

"If you want wine for every meal, you can have it." He promises; you imagine he'd intended for it to come out teasing, but it comes out deeper. "Whatever you want." He adds. 

It tugs your heart in a way that makes your hair stand on end; you know what you'd do if your legs weren't cemented to the ground, if your lips weren't gravitating towards his own. You'd probably run, against your better judgement.

Or, perhaps that would be the better judgement. 

Whatever you want. 

"I don't know what I want." You admit, your lips parting as you stare at his beautiful, angled jaw; it clenches under your scrutiny before he whispers softly, "That's okay." 

There is a magnetism that pulls you to him like a moth seeking a warm flame. 

Your hand finds itself on his skin before you can think about it. Soft, slightly ingrained with the beginnings of stubble; over his jaw your thumb strokes, feeling the sharp edges that lie below the soft, porcelain skin. To your surprise, he lets you touch him, as if both of you are pulled by some strong force towards the other and cannot stop.

"Is it?" You ask, a whisper under the flickering light of the hearth. “You made it seem like a flaw.” you muse, watching in intent fixation as those very lips move under your finger’s manipulation.

His lips part when your thumb runs over the bottom one, tugging it down curiously. 

“It’s not a flaw,” he mutters in a gentle motion against your thumb; a sensation that is as foreign as it is exciting. The breath that leaves him hits your own lips. When did you lean closer? When did he? 

His eyes are sparkling from this angle and they focus on your lips. You almost voice your doubt, but there is something that is pulling you to him- you are tired of talking, and his face is so incredibly inviting in the firelight.

When your lips press to his, you have to angle your face; the plush bottom lip against your top one feels odd, foreign.

It’s chaste, short as you pull your head away slightly. Heat chases you as you back away, blinking away your surprise; he doesn’t let you get too far though, as his cold fingers slide around your neck to stop you from pulling away. 

Your stomach flutters as he tugs you back against him with fervor; as if this moment was one of forbidden lovers embracing for the very last time. 

Your hands cup his jaw and his hair tickles the goosebumps that run over the exposed flesh of your chest.

There’s nothing in the room but a heavy syrupy scent- did you knock over the dessert wine? Your lips slide against Paul’s and you’re surrounded by his smell, the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair.His lips are soft as he lets out a sigh in your mouth, tongue prodding your lip gently. Your sharp inhale keens your chest forward, coaxing your lips apart as he presses forward into you. 

Everything slides off-kilter. Time starts to melt and warp with every slight movement you make, a low pounding in your head as you tilt your head to taste more of Paul. 

The clock in the corner ticks, but the metronome is skewed and it starts to beat with your heart. 

Pulling away for a moment, you let yourself gather a breath; His fingers are cold but you presently notice how warm the rest of him is- cheeks, jaw, shoulders, everything. 

He’s moved upright on his mattress now; sitting up, he towers over where you perch on your knees, staring up at him with glossy eyes. A starved transgressant begging for salvation from the solemn preacher before you. 

A hand soothes over your hair. Between his knees, your hands settle on his thighs; a heat rolls over in you and a yearning ignites. Paul stares down at you, eyes darkened and glossed over with the sheen of alcohol as he leans down, hand cupping your jaw. 

What are we doing? 

You think it gently, bewildered and surprised; but Paul stops just as his lips brush yours again. He gives you a look that sets unease- had you said that out loud? 

It’s over as quick as it happens- Paul’s mouth has found purchase over your own and has taken the liberty of pushing against the plushness of your bottom lip. 

Something flutters in your stomach; A need for more. His tongue slides against the seam of your lips with a drag of heat and you open for him, pressing further as your hands slide up and over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under your palms. 

But even amidst the dizzying rush of sensations, you feel when Paul breaks the kiss, his warm breath lingering against your lips. The room is at a standstill, but you feel as if you're spinning. 

“You should probably go to bed,” his words are barely audible over the pounding of your heart, the beating in your head. They flutter like the wings of an insect over your lips. 

For a brief moment, clarity pierces through the haze of desire, and a flush of embarrassment washes over you; The arraignment tomorrow, the dreams, the Bene Gesserit, House Harkonnen - all of it hits you in a dizzy spell and you break away from Paul's grasp suddenly, eyes wide. 

Trying to regain your composure you nod, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his low-lidded, slow gaze. You find your footing as you rise from the floor and to your chagrin, Paul follows; ever chivalrous. 

"I should." You say quietly, righting your hair and dress awkwardly. "I'm sorry I kept you up so late." You grasp for anywhere to hold on to, lest you fall into the chasm that has opened below you. He shakes his head, "It was me who kept you up." He mumbles; laced with sleep and something else. 

He fumbles to open the chamber door, but you're grateful he attempted it before your shaking fingers did. The walk back across the hall to your quarters is shorter than you remember, thankfully; only a few hiccups from you and a few heavy breaths from him before you're standing in front of the large door, a settling of doom clouding around you like a bad thunderhead. 

His hand, having never dared touch you so boldly before tonight, cups your arm gently. Staring at it, your eyes skip over the blurry figure before you; you swear, there's something of a halo lighting up his curls. "It'll be over quick, and we can go home." He says. There's no need to elaborate what he's speaking of; he always knows what you're thinking. 

Perhaps you're too tired to conceal your worries, or you've just finally found yourself capable of admitting it to him. "I'm scared." You mumble. 

His eyes are on your lips - he doesn't kiss you again, but you wonder faintly if he wants to. You'd like him to, you realize. It's a disquieting thought, borne from weeks of tense conversation, long glances, and arguments. How odd to miss the lips of a near stranger. 

He nods shortly, "I know." He says, and it does nothing to quell the raging sea of despair that has resided from its previous numbness. Wine and handsome men can only do so much, you suppose. "I'm going to be there tomorrow." He says, voice low and quiet, still bleeding together from the crimson wine you'd poured. "You may not see me, but I'll be there." 

You can only nod, knowing that tears will come soon; you will be caught dead before Paul sees you cry. You bid him good-night and then lie on your mattress, tears leaking emotionlessly through the cracks in your lashes. 

You are enveloped in fear, worry, hate; numb to whatever just happened in Paul’s chambers and even more numb to what is to come in the morning.

You're not sure how, but you sleep through the night without a single dream. 

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[teejaystumbles]

For Sandtober #6, "golden", and the Monsterfucktober bingo square "undead", I present you something based on one of the books that left an impression on my teenage mind and now that is all I can think of when I get "bones" and "gold" in relation to one another -

Servant of the Bones AU

In Babylon, about 600 years BC, Hob, a young handsome shepherd, is forced to become the new statue of the god Marduk but through a secret ritual conducted by a witch does not die and is made into an undying spirit who has to serve whoever owns his bones. The witch botches up the ritual and dies, leaving Hob with his mind his own - even if he has to obey the bones’ current master, he is able to think for himself and over the centuries he outsmarts a lot of his crueler masters, leading to their demise and to the box being inscribed with more and more warnings not to summon what is inside.

First AU variant: In 2022, Dream Endlos [lol let’s give him the German name variant for once], a successful author of books and screenplays, buys an old mansion (Fawney Rig) which is full of old occult stuff from the previous owner. While he sorts through the stuff he comes to the conclusion that he’ll have to hire an expert to ascertain the value of a lot of objects. He trips over a box on his way out and it falls over and unlatches, revealing a glimmer of gold inside. Curious, Dream opens it and finds the golden bones of what seems to be a complete human skeleton. The box is inscribed with ancient warnings in almost every language from cuneiform to hieroglyphs to Greek and Latin. Dream is both horrified and fascinated.

He reverently places the bones back inside the box, carefully handles the skull and wonders about the person they belonged to. He goes to bed, his mind spinning with possible scenarios and stories concerning the bones, the box, the warnings. He lies awake for hours. Late at night he gets up again and goes back downstairs. He takes the box back up into his bedroom and sits before it. “Who were you?” he asks the box, and there is a quiet whisper of a man’s voice near his ear. “My name. Is Hob.”

Second AU variant (that I like almost better because I know how it would end): 

Burgess gets his hands on the bones after he captures Dream. He uses Hob to try and get Dream to talk, in so far as that he sends him down to talk to Dream and learn his secrets, in the hopes it might work because Hob is a supernatural being. Hob is fascinated with Dream immediately and tells him that he should not talk to him so he won’t have to betray anything to Burgess. “You mustn’t tell me anything important, I cannot lie to my master. If he commands me to tell him what you said I’ll have to answer. But I can tell you about a lot of things, if you’re bored. You must be bored, right?”

Dream is in turn fascinated with Hob and his strange curse and after a while they talk about unimportant things, things they like and dislike, they tell each other stories. Hob tells Dream how he was made into what he is against his will. Dream aches with sympathy. Burgess is frustrated because he gets no results. Maybe he also tries to have Hob use force on Dream but luckily the magic circle and spells make it impossible for Hob to enter the sphere Dream is held in. Events happen like in episode 1, Alex inherits Hob’s bones but barely uses him to do anything because he’s almost more scared of Hob than he is of Dream. Hob talks to Paul more than he talks to Alex and he tries to subtly influence the man to let Dream go. It takes decades but eventually Paul is showing signs of having had enough. Hob warns Dream to be alert and begs him to please take his bones with him if he escapes. Events unfold like in canon and Dream breaks free. He leaves without Hob’s bones, too weak to search for them right away. He knows where they are but he can’t get them without reclaiming his power first. 

Hob thinks Dream has left him to his fate and is full of sadness and despair. He returns to the bones, his master caught in an eternal waking nightmare. Paul takes the bones and calls on him to help Alex, but Hob can't help and so he ignores the pleas and doesn't even manifest. Paul is frustrated and puts the bones into a safe and out of his mind. When Dream has got the sand, helm and ruby back he goes back to Fawney Rig and searches for Hob. He finds his bones and takes them with him to the Dreaming, putting them into his own private rooms. Hob does not answer him and Dream pleads for forgiveness and begs Hob to come back to him. Only when he places a kiss on the forehead of the golden skull do the bones start to vibrate and come together and Hob is able to form himself a new body, with the help of the power of the Dreaming, a body that holds his bones and is free of the box so he will not be bound to any master ever again. :)

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Four

"Lennon's late again" says Paul, as he walks in late. And sweet Ringo just gently, "between ten and eleven is the time" Which means: "Chill babe. He'll be here."

One thing that always gob smacks me is how bored George and Ringo are watching Paul pull Get Back out of the ether. They literally see him do this shit all the time which is insane to me.

His voice is so so so pretty!!! And he's just so completely in his own world. The hunched shoulders. The twitching. The gibberish. The tapping. The twisting.

Obviously this is a song with the original central feeling being let's go back to before everything went wrong but he wants to make it into a meaningless song with both story bits and almost walrus-esque bits. But why is the first lyric he comes up with about gender? Thinking of @scurators posts on Paul and gender.

Ringo's customary quiet really does add significance to his voice, so him singing along with this so quickly says something I think about his support for the song and for Paul in general.

When John walks in he's greeted with a little cocky nod and smile like "look what I've just done while you were late." And then Paul sings "get back to where you once belonged" directly at him before breaking the eye contact. It's one of those heartbreaking Lennon/McCartney miscommunications because Paul is doing this to get John back, but actually it's scaring him away, you know? Paul thinks he has to prove to John how good he is, but John's exhausted with how good Paul is.

STFU Michael Lindsay Hogg

Paul really does love the idea of being forced out of parliament by cops and honestly so do I. Would've been iconic and might've kept them together.

John's so quiet today and also Yoko is not here. Correlation or causation I wonder.

"They say don't they say charity begins at home?" I love you forever, George. His humor is always so well-placed and so dry (even though he's clearly cracking himself up here). And it steers the conversation away from a direction he was not happy with without poking any bears. In fact, everyone's laughing. Clever boy.

"I've decided that the whole point of it is communication. And to be on TV is communication and we've got a chance to smile at people like all you need is love or something so that's me incentive for doing it." Wise, egalitarian John making a lovely appearance.

And then there's Paul. "I'm here cause I wanna do a show." Lol I love them.

Why do they say "Mr Epstein?" Is it because they're on camera and they want people to know who they're talking about? Does it have something to do with the maharishi telling them certain ways to talk about Brian? Does anyone have any thoughts about that?

Okay so you know how I just said last time how emotionally mature George was? I still think it's generally more true of him than the others, but this right here? This is not it. "I don't want to do any of my songs in the show because they'll all just turn out shitty." Man has issues.

I think it's important to recognize that George and Paul have both said the literal word "divorce" and it's NBD. But when John does it, Paul takes it as "the groups really over and I have to go into hiding and not get out of bed and maybe od who knows." Why? There's another puzzle piece here that we're missing.

"Should we leave you for a while?" "YES!"

On the one hand I'm like "working on Maxwell is the last thing you guys should be doing with this time alone." But on the other thing maybe it's the only thing they can do at this point.

"Mal? You should get a hammer. And an anvil." As he's walking away. Main character in a contrived mad genius biopic. Except it's real.

"Joan" sounding suspiciously like "John" ... And then he goes "fool, Maxwell fool." Aka one of their ~special words~ New theory. John hates Maxwell because he dies in it. And Paul's the killer.

"Take it away Johnny." Even though it was George and John whistling before wasn't it? Did George get cut from the whistle chorus? Another straw on the camel's back.

I LOVE that John just does not know any of his own songs. Across the Universe my beloved!

On the glyn/Paul moment featured below, I have three thoughts. 1. Whore. 2. John Lennon villain origin story. 3. The fact that glyn didn't just tell John is striking.

"I wish it fucking would". "Cause I'm down." This lyric going from a self-soothing reassurance that his people aren't going to leave him that he'll always have this beautiful dream he's created with them. To this? I hate it here.

So there is a big emotional and energy difference between their Beatlemania selves singing "Rock and Roll Music" and their current selves. And part of it is due to the fact that they're just not as happy as they were then. But I think most of it is really just that they thrive when they're performing for an audience.

[bless-my-demons]

I just wanted to let you know that I am WAY too hooked on Redamancy that I keep just being like I wanna read angst? Oh, it's time to read Chapters 14 and 15! Like, come on, how can you take these okay characters from a weird ass series and turn it into something like this? I honestly think you are doing better than smeyer did! I also hope that soon things get to chill out, and we can see some half fun times with Jas and Emmet! Stay hydrated and well fed!!!

Omg when I tell you this ask made my heart SOAR😭 I’ve loved this series since I first saw the movies in high school (I just aged myself, RIP), but I always imagined them… different than SMeyer did; I’m re-watching the movies this week and I keep noticing what I would’ve done differently. Also, sparkles? You’ll never catch me mentioning that lmao honestly I just take her baseline for the characters/story and make it make sense in my eyes. And honestly I think it’s just the difference in vibes from 10 years ago to now - what we want in romance, perception of paranormal (not that anything about this is realistic, but making it more believable), and having time to criticize the saga.

Jasper is my Roman Empire, he is such a complex character - they all are! They deserve better storylines and just more overall, I just love writing my thoughts with him. But it’s like a coin, the other side is the wolves - more specifically Paul👀 oh my god I don’t even know where to start with the wolves, there’s so much. And I do have a doc started for Paul for after Jasper (there might not be a true and final ‘after’, but like once I crank out BD part 2) for when I can focus my energy on that instead of trying to split it with Redamancy, it’s full of ideas, things I wished we had gotten - especially with imprint relationships. Ugh and then I have that pre-vampire Jasper WIP that’s unrelated to Redamancy🙈 how the fuck do people organize their thoughts to do multiple series at the same time lol

The last part of your ask I’ve been thinking about since I posted Ch29, do you guys like the in-between? Like, the stuff between the timeline events that’s not in the books/movies? I’m always so worried about those parts, because if improperly done, I’m worried you guys are waiting for me to get to the point-to the shit you know is going to happen. Like the grad party, the newborn army fight, big plot points like that; versus the little injects like spending time with Quil, or Emmett, or reader’s mom, those things? I promise those little things have meaning down the road (some for the plot, some to just add angst/fluff/or to just fix SM’s holes) but I’m curious about your guys’ opinions! I’ve definitely read some fics that have had plot fluff that I’ve skipped because I just wanted the meat and I don’t want to bore you guys with that shit if I’m not writing it correctly enough😅

I also just love asks like this that make me think deeper about the story, because it definitely influences and inspires my writing lol thanks love🫶

[feerz]

Ranking all the Jesuses from every version I've watched/listened to so far

without further ado let's get into it 🙌

Ian Gillan - 1970 Original concept album

The True Doer that you cannot outdo. The og who made this role what it is today. And since the og album was were I got my start and obsession with jcs, I have a huge fondness for him. There's just something so- so... about him. His vocals? Insane, fantastic, the golden standard. His Gethsemane is Everything. He raised the bar so high (literally lol) and made this role harder for everyone that came after him and I respect that. I also love his characterisation. He is a rockstar and he knows it. Adore this whiny ass messiah and his dramatics. 9/10

Ted Neeley - 1973 movie

Sad little mouse man. He's like some small rodent to me. His gethsemane is iconic, but beyond it I don't care to much about his Jesus. He's perfectly inoffensive, but I find him a bit boring. Poor guy also had the disadvantage of performing against Carl Anderson, who's too powerful and who commanded every scene he was in, outshining Jesus. Tedsus is not for me personally, but he's definitely not bad. 6/10

Camilo Sesto - Madrid 1975 album

I like him! He reminds me of Ian's Jesus but sadder (love to see it). Really good vocals. That 'POR QUE' ate. And his Gethsemane in general too. I don't have that much to say besides that, but Señor Sesto is really good in this role. 8/10

James Whitson - San Jose Civic Light Opera's 1990 production

Uhhhhhhh. Watched this in a discord watch party and for half of it we were thought this was Ted. It wasn't. Don't really know what to say, there wasn't anything really memorable or notable about him. Also has the disadvantage of being pared up with Carl Anderson, except it's even worse here. If Carl was anywhere near him, no chance I was paying attention to Jesus. Um... he chased Santa out of the Temple! That's something! 3/10

Steve Balsamo - 1996 London revival album

Steve Balsamo Jesus, my dearly beloved. How can you not love him. Just rewatch his Gethsemane for the 1000th time. His vocals are out of this world, man has organ pipes in place of vocal chords. Props to him for actually crying in gethsemane and still killing it. Absolutely fantastic. And his beautiful hair and those brown eyes really add to it. He's such a sad pathetic man, it's great. No complaints 10/10

Glenn Carter - 2000 movie

I'm shaking, please buy him brown contacts. I am a glensus hater, although I have to admit that during my second viewing I didn't dislike him as much. Easily my least favourite gethsemane (lmm excluded), except his delivery of "what you started, I didn't start it", that was surprisingly good. Again, I'm a hater but bonus points for the entertainment factor. 4/10

Paul Nolan - 2012 Broadway revival

BORING! Sorry your trouple doesn't save you from being so incredibly bland. It's like looking at a white wall that has just been painted over and you're watching it dry. Gethsemane is solid vocally, I like his interactions with others. But Jesus himself? No thanks. The staging of the crucifixion was so great, but then there he is with his mouth agape like a baby bird being fed and unconvincing "suffering". Also, no blood? 3/10

Ben Forster - 2012 UK Arena tour

THIS IS THE ONE. My roman empire. My most dear blorbo. He's been living in my head rent free for months. I love him so much. He's just so incredibly stressed out and angsty and pathetic and constantly on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. His gethsemane is my favourite. Just pretty much everything I could want from a performance of it. The way he curls up on the floor? The little moments when his voice breaks a bit from emotion?? The knee thing??? Great, fantastic, stunning, no notes. Also I adore his costuming, finally Jesus is given something more interesting. 11/10

John Legend - 2018 NBC

Hot take, but he's not nearly as bad as people make him out to be. He's just fine. I do enjoy his voice, Poor Jerusalem is especially good. Although I don't love his acting in the second act, but I really liked him in the first one. This Jesus just seems really nice and friendly and I love that. Gethsemane is solid vocally, even without the G5. Anyways he's not bad at all! 6/10

Andrew Latobesi - 2018 Villanova College

This was another wildcard from the watch party. Jesus didn't stand out much because we were all a bit distracted by Judi. And Mary. He was bland and the acting was not fantastic, but this is a high school prod, and for what it's worth he's not bad. Gethsemane was solid enough considering everything. The crucifixion surprisingly hit, good crying there. ??/10 since I don't think it would be fair to rank him against all those adult professional performers.

Jack Hopewell - 50th Anniversary North America tour

The only Jesus that made me cry while watching. He suffers real good (and looks very pretty while doing so). He's just so- so... I just wanted to wrap him up in a soft blanket and give him a kiss on the forehead and feed him soup. Tbh I think he's one of the best vocally too. His high note is my fav. Gethsemane in general is just great too. Love how much he's just some silly guy who then has to face the Horrors. He's just very cute :] 10/10

Jeangu Macrooy - 2024 Netherlands national tour

The most poor little meow meow Jesus ever. He's so pathetic it's great. Him smiling and being happy was also so cute. Really good vocals too, man killed those high notes. His gethsemane too... Jeangu Macrooy absolutely steels the show and it's fantastic and incredibly heartbreaking. Want to see his performance again so so badly. In the meantime everyone should check out a snippet of his performance 10/10

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[hildred-rex]

LXGF Reread 2023-11-20

To make an analysis post I am currently rereading what is shaping up to be the entirety of LXGF.

This has gotten incredibly long, so I'm burying it under a readmore.

I love the bit of dramatic irony here. I think it's technically spoilers which bit is the dramatic irony, but just trust me, it's great.

The wham shot of Mina's teeth is so good. And coupled with "We have some experience with such matters."...

From this page: The supportive hand on Irene's shoulder. The supportive hand on Irene's shoulder. And Irene really looks haunted in the "An explanation would be welcome" panel. Everything from the angle she's looking to the shadows under her eyes to her interlaced hands. I just want to give her a hug.

Bam. The king. (Isn't looking quite himself, is he?) I remember I shuddered when I first read this page and came to this panel.

The king continues to look very bad on the last panel of this page. (TW scopophobia and disturbing imagery.) And the color. It's so subtle you almost don't notice it the first time, just that something about the page seems slightly off. It's very effective, even at that level. And then when you do notice it... Nothing in this comic is in color. Everything is sepia-toned. That's the way things should be. But the dead King Wilhelm von Ormstein has yellow eyes.

VAN HELSING! And it nails how he talks in the book! (Having tried to write him, it's harder than it looks.) Not to mention the joy in my heart upon continuing my left-to-right scan of the panel and seeing QUINCEY MORRIS!

I've skipped a bunch here because I'm supposed to be focusing on Griffin and haven't even gotten to him yet but Art—

JONNO EYES (not sepia. I repeat: not sepia.)

I forgot how much I loved our introduction to Dorian.

And then we actually meet him (and see Paul Lessingham, the Politician, the Statesman—thank you, alt text!). He's angelic when you focus only on him, but when you look at him in context (in the panel with Basil) he's... less so. Very well done!

Foreshadowing. (When something becomes not technically probably spoilers I have a very laudatory post about all this.) Also floppy Dorian lol

I love this page. Not only do we see Dorian purposely provoke Art (and then see Art react, showing off both of their characterss) we see—and I missed this the first time—some of the dynamic between Dorian and Basil. He jumps in to distract Art, despite being scared himself (and Dorian having earned it).

Awwh Basil looks so excited that someone's treating him kindly...

Dorian's stories from this page are all allusions to other things which have gone onto the "read soon" list.

The last panel of this page is so effective. (Its image description too!)

"boring filler headline" lol (and I enjoy the tags)

DETERMINED MINA PANEL 2! BLUSHING MINA PANEL 6! Also just Mina's outfit in general. (Also just the LXGF outfits in general. I love the little garlic flowers.)

Paranoid Kemp is done so well.

LXGF is very good at having very effective final panels. This one with the glass... It's very well composed (I think that's the word) and does a good job of displaying Irene's discomfort with the glass. (Here.)

It was introduced on the previous page, but here's the first time we get a good look at Jonnovision. My favorite cryptid solicitor.

On the next page there's more cryptidness (the speed), which I didn't notice my first time through. And his eyes are glowing in the first panel... And then the first expletive of the comic! Such a great way to properly introduce Griffin!

I love (in a sad way) how Griffin just caves in when he thinks about the murder. (Here.)

Griffin's whole first scene is incredible. I can't comment on all of it or this post would be several more miles long. Just go read it and imagine me vibrating with excitement and pointing at random bits and screaming.

Character growth for Jack! ...I'm now very sad.

The panel with Jonathan and the angelic smile and the giant knife is great.

I've been annotating over here less because we've gotten to the bit that I'm talking about in my actual post, but rest assured that I love it. Also, the yellow is brighter here. And the eye... I'll count myself lucky if that thing doesn't show up in my dreams tonight.

And the shot of the photo at the end here! The corruption happening to the king slowly coming to affect depictions of him... I love this for spoiler-related reasons.

Griffin's realization is both very well done and unaccountably hilarious to me.

Hel-lo Mr. Holmes!

He respects her change of surname! Better than a lot of adaptations... and the table lmao

He. He what. Also floomp.

Holmes's immediate concern for Mrs. Hudson warms my heart.

HOLMES AROACE COMING OUT SCENE!

Accurate VH voice is back—what the deuce are you two talking about?

his blood is yellow his blood is yellow (well really more like golden)

Also Jack looking panicked in the second panel is so well done.

Almost namedrop! And Griffin being a delight as always.

Hello Jekyll! Great to see you! I enjoy your almost alchemical-looking setup there.

The king is progressing...

Same page; I enjoy Jekyll and Hyde's designs. They have the same hairstyle, very similar noses, and the same style of eye; but they still look different enough that you probably wouldn't believe them if they said they were cousins.

"He is a horror of the un-dead." Line of dialogue, presented without comment.

The drawingsss...

The first panel of this page is absolutely stunning. So is everything else. So much that I wrote an analysis rant of it.

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

The Cullens as song's // HC

Song's I think the Cullens would be, based off of their personalities and their backstories. I couldn't find a song to fit Emmett, I've been searching for the last hour :/ Sorry to all Emmett lovers, he shall not be in this little HC. I hope you enjoy reading the rest though, please do let me know what you think the Cullen's would be as songs <3

MASTERLIST CULLENS

Rosalie - Black Dahlia // Hollywood Undead

I think this song fits Rose the best because of everything she went through prior to being turned.

Like the apparent love of her life, future husband, using and manipulating her ??

He took everything from her, let others do things to her.

He's a lil bitch :)

The lyrics "and I've been abused, I feel so used because of you."

"The future that we both drew and all the shit we've been through. Obsessed with the thought of you, the pain just grew and grew."

Really sound's like something Edward would hear Rose think to herself whenever he would listen to her thoughts.

Her revenge was worth it though, she finally got to take something from him, like he had done to her.

"You just lay without a sound, seems like all we had is over now, you left to rest."

Major 'Lol I killed my stupid husband' vibes

Edward - Parasite Eve // Bring Me The Horizon

Okay not to be one of those people, but considering Eddie boy over here was around during the Spanish influenza and almost dying from it; I kinda found this song fitting ??

'Parasite Eve' is about Covid, and both illnesses are similar; too similar in fact.

The lyrics "I've got a fever, don't breathe on me." and "Leave your flowers and grieve." Really scream Edward for me ??

We were all scared of big man Covid but imagine how terrified he must've been when he had the Spanish influenza.

Like he's just vibing one minute and then, boom, he's literally lying on his death bed.

Edward would probably really relate to this song, even if he's into classical; 'Parasite Eve' would be an exception.

Jasper - Forest // Twenty One Pilots

Okay, I know what you're thinking but hear me out.

Lyrics "I don't know why I feed on emotion, there's a stomach inside my brain."

Signifies Jasper's gift of empathy and control of emotions.

"My brain has given up, white flags are hoisted."

White Flags were used during the Civil War to end it, a way to show they have surrendered.

Not only does those lyrics signify the Civil War, it could also be a metaphor for Jasper; he's given up that part of his life.

He doesn't want to let it corrupt him any further because he's guilty for playing a part in taking so many lives.

So, in turn, he's put up white flags to surrender and hope to start over; become a better person, vampire.

Alice - Can You Feel My Heart // Bring Me The Horizon

Sweet little fairy.

Didn't deserve to be locked away in an asylum.

I think, in some way, this song is fitting for Alice.

Lyrics "Forgive me father, I love you Mother."

Make me feel like she would've said this a lot, thinking she was a disappointment to her parents for her gift.

"I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone."

Definitely was something Alice had felt prior and post-vampirism, scared if she got too close to someone she could predict their fate.

But also being scared she would end up alone because people would be so weirded out by her gift.

Carlisle - Put Your Head On My Shoulder // Paul Anka

Absolute sweetheart !

This song is just Carlisle to Esme, 100%

He's such a gentleman, even though his father was like a BIG priest dude who killed the supernatural and he caused Carlisle to turn ??

He's just full of love, no one can tell me different !!

Secretly, Carlisle is Paul Anka and wrote this song for Esme

So sorry it's short, Dr. Cullen is just an angel and didn't really have much corruption in his life ngl.

Esme - Brick By Boring Brick // Paramore

For some reason I feel like this song definitely reminds me of Esme because of the meaning behind the song.

"The song Brick by Boring Brick is a story about a girl who escaped reality through pictures and fairy tales and anything that wasn’t the real story. This way, she’d look perfect to everyone else and we’d all think that she’s got it together. But being that it was all for show, it couldn’t last"

"Esme was born in 1895 in Columbus, Ohio, where she was treated at the age of 16 by Carlisle after breaking her leg when climbing a tree. She married Charles Evenson, but he abused her. After finding out she was pregnant, she ran away and gave birth to a son, who subsequently died a few days later."

Brick By Boring Brick resembles Esme's tough life from a young age, she was still only a child when she was to be married to Evenson, she didn't want to continue with the abuse she suffered.

So, she ran, she created a life where she would be happy, even though; if you looked a bit closer, there were cracks in her reality.

All she wanted was to be happy, but she also ended up losing her son in the process of freeing herself from the shackles of her abusive husband.

The lyrics "Well, you built up a world of magic, because your real life is tragic." Truly speaks on so many different levels how Esme presents herself to the world and everyone around, even though how she want's to be perceived is fake and in reality Esme has suffered a lot.

Not only with losing her baby but also she will never be able to have those years of her life back, it'll forever remind her of how badly she was treated. Just like Rose.

[albonoooo]

got tagged by @wanderingblindly, thank you my beloved <3

what colour are your eyes?: a mixture of blue, green and grey that looks puddle-coloured most of the time.

tell me about your pets/your dream pet: after 15 wonderful years, our family dog paul (i named him that when i was five lol) unfortunately passed away in august 2023, i loved that dog more than most people. (there were some pictures of him here, but i got nervous that someone i know might see this so i removed them lmao). i'd love to get a dog or a cat at some point later in my life, but not now or any time soon.

share some interesting fact about yourself: i'm genuinely incredibly boring, so much so that i had to ask for help to find an answer here. the council decided on the fact that i know how to ride and own a motorcycle and am also a member in an mf in my hometown.

what was the first fandom you were a part of?: i guess the first time i was properly involved with fandom in any capacity was during my teen wolf days.

do you have any phobias?: i don't know if it's bad enough to be considered a phobia, but i'm terrified of heights. there have been several instances of me breaking down crying despite trying to keep it together while being in very high places (usually while having to climb dodgy stairs in very high buildings, among other things).

are you a picky eater? if so, what food can't you stand?: YES! and i hate it because it's so so limiting and annoying. i am incredibly sensitive regarding taste and texture and i have to physically force myself to hold back visceral reactions to foods i don't like. it'd probably be easier to list the foods i can eat tbh.

do you eat the burger and fries at the same time or one after another?: first some fries, then burger, fries, burger, fries, finish the burger, finish the fries. anything else is weird (what the fuck do you mean you eat them completely separately, liquid???)

winter or summer: winter all the way. i sweat easily, my body generally doesn't cope well with heat and i prefer bundling up and being a little cold over feeling too warm.

favourite fanfiction tropes: i LOVE a good au, any au really, but especially the cute ones. i'll read almost anything at least once and so there's just too many things i have read and enjoyed to list here. also, anything with an enemies to lovers situation. i am a sucker for that.

are you studying or working? what do you study/is your job?: both! i'm a full-time student (english major, history minor) and i am one of the student assistants in the english department's student office. i've also had other, less fun part-time jobs in the past.

what is the last country you visited: the netherlands and belgium during a day trip (by motorcycle) in june or july last year, i think.

what country would you want to move to after retiring?: i've haven't ever even considered living that long. i've always had a fascination with ireland and scotland, so based on looks and vibes alone i'd go there. or somewhere with solid winters, like a scandinavian country or finland.

who was your first crush?: hannes (played by nick romeo reimann) in the vorstadtkrokodile movies. i was ready for marriage, dreaming up a life together and everything. it also lasted until i was like 12 years old, so about six years in total. he really had me in a chokehold.

how did you get into f1 fandom?: after my interest was peaked by f1 edits that randomly popped up all over my social media one day (thank you algorithms), i did what i always do when something like that happens and opened tumblr to see what's up. and then i got stuck lol.

i have no clue who has or hasn't been tagged already, so feel free to ignore this!! @hrhgeorgerussell @bright-and-burning @borntogayz @lil-italian-disappointment @liamlawsonlesbian @piastrisms

[buzzingblues]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ SHOCK ME, SHOCK ME, SHOCK ME WITH THAT DEVIANT BEHAVIOR!

STATUS: BORED SO BOREDDD!!!

georgie, georgette if youre weird.

— seventeen

— they/she

— 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 🩷💜💙 ??? understandable ???

— hatchetfield hs, class of ‘21. GO NIGHTHAWKS!

as in the arts kids, fuck football.

— you will most likely find me in the auditorium, somewhere in the witchwood, a smoke club meeting, or on a shift at pasqualli’s (gag)

#georgieblr: my tumblr 💫

#losers club: talking to friends! 💐

#i love music: current listens and/or recs!

#rb: reblogs

[ ooc info under the cut ⤵️]

hii this is @exalt1ora (maxie) !! this is my hatchetfield oc roleplay blog im very excited about it yippee

WHO IS GEORGIE DAVIDSON?

Georgie Davidson is a 17 year old student at Hatchetfield High School. She lives with her parents, Mr. Ken Davidson and Mrs. Carol Davidson, in a suburb near the outskirts of Witchwood Forest. She’s a music + theater nerd, a stoner, and an avid researcher of urban legends and local history.

———

Her relationships differ based on timelines and circumstance, but there are some through-lines.

- Best friends with Alice Woodward. They met at a CCRP take your kid to work day as elementary schoolers and have been inseparable since. Bill is also like a second father to her.

- Close friends with Ruth Fleming. Georgie started doing school theater very young, and pretty much knew everyone involved. Ruth joined the tech crew in middle school and, being a certified chatterbox, Georgie regularly spent her breaks trying to talk to the new girl. Eventually, she broke her down and they’ve been close since.

- Drifted apart childhood friends with Richie Lipschitz. In middle school, they rode the same bus and both ended up sitting next to each other one day. Georgie struck up a conversation out of boredom and something just stuck. They kept sitting with each other and talking more in school, becoming closer friends. But, Georgie started developing feelings for Richie and she didn’t understand them, so she began to distance herself. Now, they don’t speak at all.

- Family Friends (?) with Paul Matthews. Georgie was babysat by Paul as a child, often alongside Alice, as she’d frequently stay at the Woodward place. She still calls him Uncle Paul, a childhood habit.

- Charlotte Sweetly babysat Georgie once in a while, too. Mr. Davidson asked the employees of the office to look after his daughter as a last resort, and offered to pay as overtime. Charlotte accepted happily, and spent the night braiding Georgie’s hair, making cookies and singing with the girl. They did this regularly, until Mr. Davidson became uncomfortable with Georgie being around her husband, Sam. But, like Paul, she’s still Aunt Charlotte.

- Second-cousins with Zoey & Zach Chambers. They don’t see each other or talk like, ever. But, it makes Georgie feel very starstruck to be related to Hatchetfield’s finest actress.

- Friends with Deb, Trevor, Caitlyn, PJ, Reese, Rose, Ziggs, Sof, and Danny

- Dislikes Max Jägerman, Kyle Clauger, Brad Callahan, Grace Chasity, Brenda, Ted Spankoffski, The Metzgers

anyone not mentioned she has neutral feelings towards and would gladly be their friend <3 (ppl she dislikes feel free to interact still💪)

———

okay now some OOC maxie things !!

~ i’m new to tumblr rp so if i’m not great pls be understanding LOL thank u

~ multi-timeline blog, will try to appropriately tag specific timelines

~ open to multi-shipping on both ends like idc if you have other ships and i’m cool having more than one bc of the multi-timeline thing

~ as you can see i do have like. specific relationships planned out for her in MY story but anything can happen so i’m open to everything!! i honestly don’t care how u interact with them. befriend them, romance her, bully her, plot to kill them! do what you please

~ she is a minor character so no hardcore nsfw stuff

~ anyone can interact !! obviously not like, basic dni stuff. if ur a bigot and/or a sicko leave me alone. but like i said im new to this and as long as you’re a hatchetfield rp blog you are welcome PLS send me asks or dm or anything!!! love ya

i don’t really have separate timelines yet, so for rn, general in-world action will be tagged #hatchettrash

will tag ooc posts #ooc !!

[gemini-care-barr]

For Barry and Hal-

What fandoms or franchises do you think they are in or follow? Could be podcast related, Reddit forums they are a part of, movie sequels or trilogies or novels!

Definitely something that should be mentioned more in canon comics so let’s use this as a manifesting moment by detailing it out 🤭

Right off the bat, I have to make it clear to absolutely everyone that Barry is 100% a Trekkie and Hal is most likely a Star Wars fan. And while we’re on the most heated sci-fi debate, I’ll add that once Hal and Barry became friends and Barry learned more about the Green Lantern Corps he undoubtedly introduced Hal to Star Trek and successfully convinced him that it was the superior sci-fi franchise, we stan two Trekkies 😜

Now then, I don’t think Hal would be very into book series or fantasy in general but he’d definitely have a particular interest in the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings trilogy and I think he’d try Game of Thrones and The Witcher because of everyone’s recommendations but would probably not like it very much. He’s the noble-type though and would be pretty easily convinced to read the Lord of the Rings books (including the Hobbit and Silmarillion) because of the nobility of the characters and story. Same reasoning goes for Donita K. Paul’s DragonSpell series. He’d also probably be into the writings of Henry David Thoreau, Ernest Hemingway, and Raymond Carver, not hugely into them necessarily but if he was super bored and he had access to their stuff he’d dig it haha. His favorite poem would also probably be Tennyson’s In Memoriam A.H.H.. I don’t see him being too into podcasts, but he’d definitely like rock bands like Foreigner and AC/DC. He’s also definitely into movies more so than tv shows and would love movies like The Right Stuff, Top Gun, Braveheart, The Patriot, John Wick, most blockbusters classics really, and probably anything with Bruce Lee haha. He’d probably think anime/manga was for nerds until someone pointed out that Dragon Ball Z was, in fact, an anime then he’d realize they can be pretty cool hahaha. And with video games, I’d say he absolutely doesn’t have the patience for long form RPGs but can probably be convinced to play some FPSs with friends like Call of Duty and Halo lol. Basically, this was a long way of saying that Hal is probably more sporty, not in an obsessive fan of sports way, mind you, just that he participated in mostly sports growing up and even as an adult probably prefers hanging out playing baseball with kids (Adams’ GL run has an adorable scene of just that) rather than watching/reading/listening to anything so essentially he’s just not very media-obsessed; he’s a doer! He also probably wouldn’t participate in the fandoms of any of the media he does consume because he cares more about engaging with the media itself rather than about others’ thoughts and feelings on it haha.

Onto Barry, honestly, Barry is kind of tougher for me to figure out purely because I feel like he and I are very similar so I’m inclined to list basically all my favorite things and my thought processes haha, but I’ll try to avoid doing that 😝. So, like I said, Barry is definitely a Trekkie, the Federation’s belief in preserving alien lives and lifestyles plus its dedication to exploration and science all appeals to his inner nerd. He probably loves the shows For All Mankind, The X-Files, and Bones because of their science-y natures (he definitely introduced Hal to For All Mankind and it’s one of the shows they watch together haha). We all know he’s a huge comic book fan (shout-out to Pre-Crisis that had him reading Golden Age Flash comics 😜), but I’ll also add that I think this love of Golden Age Flash, thanks to his mom, would have led to his own love of Greek and Roman mythology once he realized where the idea for Jay Garrick’s helmet and shoes came from! A love of mythology would eventually lead to a love of ancient western philosophy and writings then to Medieval romances like the Arthurian legends and the works of Chaucer. Old English stuff would’ve crept in there too starting with Beowulf. He was an old soul from a young age so all these things would’ve caught his eye on trips to the library and the old-fashioned romantic notions and chivalry has definitely stayed with him. All this appreciation for much older works would then slingshot back around to him loving and appreciating more modern works that took heavy inspiration from all this older literature like The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, the Percy Jackson series, the Harry Potter series, the Codex Alera, and the Dresden Files, oh and all the detective novels, just all, from Doyle, Christie, Poe, Hammett, etc. then when he found foreign detective fiction he’d go mental and just read them all haha. He’d also probably read the Remo Williams and Jack Reacher book series and convince Hal to do the same! I’d say he’s also into old movies and classic tv shows because they all make him feel good with their sweet morals and happy endings. He’s probably not much of a gamer except for the ones with good stories, he’s too interested in learning new things to just watch someone else play though, if a game’s story interests him then he’s definitely playing it himself. Mass Effect is probably one of his secret favorites. He’s super into podcasts, anything informational and/or scientific, probably conspiratorial and/or true crime stuff, too, if for nothing else than to help him get inspiration on how to approach his own cases, he may even try and solve some cold cases that he hears about (he’d probably stumble across Black Box Down then convince Hal to listen with him haha). He definitely grew up with both the Pokémon TCG and show and was actually aware that it was an anime so is likewise somewhat into other very popular anime/manga like Naruto. Music would be jazz (he’d try and fail to get Hal into it, too, see: New 52 Flash’s Annual #2), 60s rock like the Beatles and the Monkees, and probably 80s pop like the Culture Club, oh and Air Supply (which is also Hal’s guilty pleasure band hehe). He likes sports a lot, both playing and watching, but was still more likely to be found reading/watching/listening to something rather than playing; still, the same way Hal can be convinced to play a video game in order to hangout with friends, Barry can be easily convinced to join in some sporty endeavors if it’ll mean bonding with a friend or loved one. Finally, like Hal, I don’t see him engaging too much with fandoms, he’d probably try when he was younger but wouldn’t find too many people who were into the same things then when he did find people things would devolve into arguments instead of just joy for whatever the thing was so he eventually would resign himself to just enjoying the thing itself, our Barry is a soft boy 🥹. He likes discussion though so once he found people who were his safe space they wouldn’t be able to get him to shut up hahaha.

…I …I can’t believe I wrote this much ahahah 😅. I swear I wasn’t going to get this involved! I was just going to name a few popular franchises that each would be into, but then I started thinking about mediums and how they’d appreciate different ones and then… all this came out lmao 😅😂. I apologize for the long walls of text! Just remember: this is your fault 😜

(Note: forgot to say, Barry would 100% be into Jurassic Park (books and movies) and would convince Hal to read the books (he definitely already watched and loved the movies)!

[httpiastri]

idk about brainstorming but the way i loved you just give me the vibes of being in a completely fine and chill situation (like with ollie??) and not being able to fuckin chill and enjoy it remembering of how wild and crazy it was with paul

like, things being fine but the voices inside your head won't leave you alone because you know you miss the wild part and also feels a little guilty bc howww can things be fine ollie be such a sweetheart, and you not be able to enjoy it???

and also paul kinda noticing that you're a little bored because he knows both you and ollie 😬

ANYWAYS i really love you writing and I really hope you write this idea bc i just LOVE it!!! ollie and paul have such different vibesss you were really a mastermind in this one

AAAAAA !!!!! thank you so much for this!!! i can rlly see this so clearly 🤭 like being with ollie is so good, it's perfect in so many ways. he's a true and complete gentleman all of the time; buys your mother flowers when he visits your parents, opens all doors for you, always making you feel safe. and it's so easy for you to feel guilty because you know you should think it's all perfect for you and you should feel so satisfied. but you just don't. something is off.

cue paul aron (who never really left your life lol)! every time you see him, it's like you get thrown back to the days when you used to be with him, and you get reminded of how great things were (at times). and paul reads you so well, the two of you were almost inseparable before and you know each other like the back of your hand, so it's easy for him to notice how unhappy you are in the relationship. he's good friends with ollie so he knows how gentle ollie can be, and he knows that isn't all you need in a relationship...

but on the other side, ollie also senses all of this. he knows what your relationship with paul was like; he knows how intense it was and how strong your love for each other was. and ollie notices the glances you take of your former lover, the way you suddenly get glossy-eyed and how your mood is affected when paul is mentioned in a conversation.

the thing is, ollie is headstrong and doesn't like to give up without a fight – he'll do anything he can to keep you. so he tries to find ways to make your relationship more like the one you had with paul, but... it just doesn't have the same spark for you, no matter how hard he tries....

thank you for your sweet words 🥺🥺 i dont remember when i first had the thought of them to that song but i really do think their vibes match it !!! and i've also kinda been thinking about that swedish house mafia & the weeknd song, cant remember the name..... but like "he seems like he's good for you, he makes you feel like you should, all your friends say he's the one, his love for you is true" for ollie, and then "but does he know you call me when he sleeps? does he know the pictures that you keep? does he know the reasons that you cry? does he know where your heart truly lies?" for paul...... like omg paul isnt your boyfriend but you still can't help but share secrets with him sometimes 😭 im going crazy, sorry

[lispenardst]

3, 12, 14, and 15 for FT asks? :D

Okay so to start with I’m sorry that I took so long to answer this!! Thank you for asking you lovely person and also I’ve been drinking for hours (merry christmas ho ho ho 🎅🏼) so these answers may be a load of unintelligible shit but lol whatever lets go

3. What is your favourite episode and why?

It might be a controversial one but honestly? Episode 1. I just love beginnings. The hope and potential and possibility of a fresh start, the excitement and thrill of the unknown, the electricity of new connections, I’m just a sucker for it. I watched episode 1 when it first aired and honestly felt as though it could’ve existed as a stand alone short film. It was the perfect way to set the scene for the series but also was such a beautifully told story in its own right. Idk if any of you have watched Weekend by Andrew Haigh? Idk if I’m chatting nonsense here but it gave me a similar vibe to that… all the emotion and potential and unspoken truths simmering under the surface, intense feelings manifesting as sexual interplay… all of it culminating in what felt like somewhat repressed and wasted potential. I’ll shut up now lol but it was such a perfect first episode. I could babble about it endlessly.

12. Which song, used in soundtrack, you liked the most?

Ooooh such a good question - are we talking about the score, or are we talking songs that were included? Whatever I’ll do both

Score wise can I just say it is the most fucking gorgeous soundtrack, I am such a slut for a good soundtrack and this one has me in a chokehold I love it. It’s so emotional, I cry just listening to it. Paul Leonard-Morgan I loge you you’re a genius

My favourite piece of music from the score has to be Waiting for Tim, it makes my heart ache. I’d love to say something a bit more eloquent about it but honestly it just makes me want to throw up from emotion ✌️ omg and Forbidden Joy that plays during the game of charades in ep2, that scene makes me feel like someone just scooped out my insides

Aside from the score I loooove anything by Arthur Russell, especially Love Is Overtaking Me. If Its Magic by Stevie Wonder is also amazing, especially as a choice for the opening scene. Also You Turned The Tables On Me by Anita O’Day. And omg Found A Cure by Ashford and Simpson that plays when Tim and Hawk are dancing in the club, so so so good

14. Do you have any unpopular opinions about Fellow Travelers?

Hmm….

I don’t think it’s controversial, but I do think that all the people on TikTok and the like who comment like ‘Fuck Hawk he’s evil and never loved Tim!!!’ must either be emotionally constipated or like 14 years old. Like how can a fully grown adult watch this show and come to that conclusion???? And whyyyy are people so obsessed with good vs bad? ‘Tim is an innocent baby and Hawk is a BAD MAN’ like how is that all you see?? Surely that is the least interesting thing about these characters? The most wonderful thing about this show is that everybody is painfully human, they hurt and hurt others and make mistakes just like we do. How can you boil down an entire human being to being ‘good’ or ‘bad’? It’s boring and I have no interest in it. It’s so telling of the time that we live in, that people immediately want to categorise human beings based on their perceived morality. All the characters in this show are just shades of grey, they are nuanced complicated human beings carrying all the complexity that a human being should carry. The focus should not be on bad vs good. It frustrates me!! That is surely the least interesting thing about these characters!! They have such rich inner worlds and such complex motives and you want to reduce them down to “Hawk is bad man and Tim is innocent baby and Lucy is evil lady” ugh it’s so BORING how is that all you see

15. What is your favourite relationship from the show (could be romantic or platonic)?

Oh this is so easy. Obviously fav romantic is Hawk and Tim - pretty self explanatory, I won’t elaborate or we’ll be here all day

Favourite platonic is Tim and Jackson without a shadow of a doubt, I’ve talked about this quite a lot on here already (I think? Or was that on reddit?) but yeah, I just feel as though they were connected from the moment Jackson was born and, similarly to how infrequent Hawk and Tim’s interactions were, Tim and Jackson remained connected for life, regardless of how much time and distance was placed between them. They were kindred spirits. I feel as though their scenes together were some of the most pure and honest and powerful in the entire show.

[lemonhemlock]

What are your favorite fragrances? Apart from fragrances what is your favorite smell (can be a dessert or food or rain or anything!) Do you like scented candles or wax melts? Do you prefer more manly colognes or perfumes? What scents do you prefer on men? Do you prefer your lotions (if you use) to be scented? Do you like hair scent sprays? Do you have a favorite scent you wear every day?

ok!!!! you came to the right place 😂

What are your favorite fragrances? Do you have a favorite scent you wear every day?

i love so many different manners of smells that i could not possibly have one single fragrance i wear everyday. i would say that, historically, my designated favourites have been miss dior cherie (RIP this one, i really loved it when i was a young girl. funnily enough i don't remember it being a gourmand, i just remember a sparkly, fruity rose), dior poison (so edgy of me LOL but i've always loved the 90s plum/berries and the iris powdery lipstick smell), ysl opium (still a staple when it comes to spicy perfumes) & diorissimo (basically every white flower you can imagine).

Apart from fragrances what is your favorite smell (can be a dessert or food or rain or anything!)

lavender. i'm obsessed with it. the soapy, clean kind. it's just so comforting. also clean musk scents that mimic fresh laundry. i have a couple & can't get enough of them. i've decided that this scent profile is what brat summer smells like 😂 also another one that's similar would be paco rabanne - olympea because it's fresh and clean but it has a cool salty, marine kick to it that's unexpected. i used up both my ysl libre & olympea dupes this summer. (another thing about me is that i love a good dupe, i'm not going broke bc of this hobby. i do not care for the IP of multi-million dollar corporations so don't @ me)

Do you like scented candles or wax melts?

yes! i would be betraying my white womanhood if i said no! 😂 my bf & i are planning on finishing some because we've accummulated quite a few and there's no space for new ones. pumpkin, lemon cake, biscuit, deep dark roses, lavender, a saltier fresh one, a couple of autumn apple ones..............

Do you prefer more manly colognes or perfumes?

not really, no. i think men's fragrances often smell very boring. most of them are 'nice' i guess, but ultimately very boring and lacking nuance. citrus, conifers etc. ultimately it is kind of a dumb idea to gender smells but i'm not really interested in "smelling like a man" in the traditional understanding of the concept. that being said, there are a couple of male-targeted perfumes i would purchase for myself and wear: egoiste by chanel (smells like cough syrup!), dior homme (that powdery lipstick smell i mentioned), dior fahrenheit (gasoline, violets, vanilla?? it's been a while since i smelt it). my dad is a big fan of jean paul gaultier le male and i have to say, the wormwood note intrigues me (it's a component of absinthe) + the lavender and cardamom. as classic male ingredients, i'm a fan of cedar and vetiver, too (idk if patchouli should be in this category as well)

What scents do you prefer on men?

unusual ones! ones that you wouldn't really expect a man to wear! my bf & i sampled habit rouge by guerlain this sunday in sephora and it wore really well on him! so did my baccarat rouge dupe. boozy perfumes are always a hit - surprisingly, in this category, the BENTLEY for men has a really cool rum note and is basically unisex. i know tom ford is overrated and overpriced, but i would be lying if i said i didn't stan. i love so many from their collection, both on me and on my bf: velvet orchid, tobacco vanille, ombre leather, bitter peach (this last one is irresistible). the lost cherry fragrances may be flat and not super complex, but if you LOVE smelling different versions of cherry like i do, you won't need anything else. that almond smell is just mouth-watering i'm sorry

other perfumes from my bf's collection i love are deep forest and red tobacco from mancera, no limits by philipp plein (the bottle looks ridiculous but it smells like sage and that's not really a common note) and patchouli on fire by afnan

Do you prefer your lotions (if you use) to be scented?

yes, absolutely! i'm not a body lotion person (i find it a hassle to keep rubbing them on such a large surface) but who doesn't love a nicely-scented hand cream? i'm not super pretentious here, as long as it absorbs quickly (not a fan of the sticky leftover feel) and it smells "nice", i'm good! love a classic blue container nivea smell

Do you like hair scent sprays?

i like the concept of hair sprays but i have curly/wavy hair and it's not good for me if it has alcohol bc it dries out the curls and ruins the texture so idk. can't say i have tried any

to wrap it up, i also love gourmands in general 😂 i've been working on finishing some bottles to make space for britney spears - fantasy & midnight fantasy - i had them when i was younger and i want to repurchase them out of nostalgia - they're great & smelling like a cupcake is an underrated slay

my dream is to find a lactonic perfume that doesn't break the bank