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#smuggling operation
clotpolesonly · 8 months
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i wonder what kind of money laundering scheme the Lynches had set up, cuz ain't nobody nowhere believed that that cattle farm would make them multi millions of dollars
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the-lumpfish-king · 8 months
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titleknown · 2 months
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Thinking about it, given the line's gimmick, it's kinda hilariously suspect in-universe that Pound Puppies had ocean and jungle-themed spinoffs.
Like, what the fuck kind of sketchy "pound"" are you running Galoob?
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bundibird · 2 years
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Hello lads, ladies, and nonbinary buddies - since we're all talking about the atrocities of the British institution, may I direct your attention to the Miami Showband Massacre. There is a documentary on netflix by the same name that gives more detail, but here's the sparknotes:
During what initially appeared to be a routine traffic stop in Ireland in the seventies (in the middle of the Troubles) MI5, with the backing of the British government, orchestrated the murder of several members of The Miami Showband (an Irish band popular in both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland).
They were attempting to frame the musicians as IRA terrorists, by having fake soldiers plant live bombs in their van during the (not legitimate after all) traffic stop. The bombs were meant to go off well after the traffic stop, killing all the musicians, and it would be reported that the band were arms smugglers who'd been accidentally killed by their own cargo -- but the bombs went off too early, killing two of the men planting them, as well as two of the five band members who were there. A third band member survived the initial blast but was hunted down in the nearby field by the remaining soldiers, who shot him over 20 times. The other two band members survived only because the soldiers assumed that the blast had killed them.
The two surviving band members claimed from the very beginning that there was an English Army Officer present at the traffic stop and that he was the one giving the orders. The investigators said the survivors must have been mistaken, and that there was no reason for a british soldier to be there, and the blame for the whole thing was placed solely at the feet of the local Unionist Paramilitary Group (unionist as in "ireland is and should remain the property of England," not unionist as in workplace unions).
Over forty years of independent research by the survivors and allies later, and various truths have been painstakingly revealed. The police, the military, and the British government were all either complicit in the bombing, or directly involved, and have all been blockading investigations since 1975 in various different ways.
The police knew the identity of one of the leaders of the pro-english paramilitary group, and had evidence that he was present at the bombing. Not only was he not charged, but someone within the police force tipped him off so he had believable excuses to waive away the evidence. The officer who questioned him raised concerns that someone had clearly worded him up, and that therefore there must be a mole within the police force; his complaints vanished into the system and were never followed up. And this was a bloke who is suspected of having murdered between 50 to 250 people (almost all Irish). And the police deliberately and repeatedly let him go free. There are indications he was actually an MI5 agent, and thus protected, but those claims are unverified.
The military knew full well that the musicians reports of a British soldier being present at the bombing were accurate, because they were actively and frequently working with the Unionist paramilitary group, supplying them with weapons and using them as attack dogs against the Provisional IRA (Irish Republican Army). They knew exactly who had been involved, but they blocked any attempts at investigation. Two separate members of their own armed forces stepped forward and started asking questions about the bombing and the mounting evidence that the english were involved. The Armed Forces moved quickly to silence both of them. One was framed for murder and jailed, while the other was illegally interned into a psychiatric hospital in an attempt to discredit anything he had to say. These were their own men that they did this to. They did this to British members of the British Armed Forces. For asking questions, and digging deeper than their superiors liked.
The British government was also fully aware. Maggie Thatcher was presented with a 32 page document of all the compiled evidence pointing very sharply to MI5 involvement, but she claimed that she'd never received the document, and then refused to look at new copies of it and blockaded attempts to look into the matter.
The issue is STILL being blocked by the British government and armed forces. They STILL refuse to look into it, and are still blocking access as best they can. Because the know full well that if their involvement in this is proven, that a whole lot of other events will come into question too.
#england have committed soooo many crimes in ireland over the years and a lot of them are far more recent than many people think#''oh the government wouldnt murder innocent civilians in an attempt to grant themselves more power'' i assure you: they would and they have#england#ireland#the troubles#it was bc england wanted a hard border between northern and republican ireland and that order needed to come from ireland itself in order#to be accepted. if innocent-looking bands were actually IRA agents then obvipusly we cant trust ANYONE so we need to cancel all travel#between the north and the south. there would have been a lot less resistance to it if it came from the irish governments.#had the englash been like 'we want a hatd border between our territory and theirs' then it would have been fought tooth and nail.#but the irish government announcing it because it turns out a beloved and widely popular band were actually terrorists??? well thats a#different kettle of fish altogether. fortunately it didnt go that way & MI5 had to scrap the plan when two of their own hired paramilitary#operatives got caught in the blast AND one of the band members was shot to death. cant claim that the bands supposed smuggled goods#exploded on them by accident if youve got two UVA operatives blown up as well AND an irishman shot to death#so the framing didnt pan out -- but it still got three of their band dead and ruined the lives of the survivors who are still fighting to#reveal the truth. and the british government is like ''yeah but that would raise some awkward questions tho''#miami show band#miami show band massacre
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workersolidarity · 4 months
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🇺🇦 🚨 ⚠️
UKRAINIAN MEDIA REPORTING A THIRD OF ALL HUMANITARIAN AID SENT TO UKRAINE REMAINS UNACCOUNTED FOR
According to reports in Ukrainian media, the State Customs service of Ukraine has said that around a third of all Humanitarian Aid intended for 200 military units did not reach their intended recipient after clearing customs.
“During 9 months of 2023, as a result of the joint measures of the Department for Combating Smuggling and Customs Violations of the State Customs Service and the Department of Internal Audit of the Ministry of Defense of Ukraine, more than 9,000 instances of the movement of humanitarian aid goods intended for 200 military units were checked,” the agency is quoted as saying.
In the course of their operations, the state agency was able to establish more than 3'000 cases where deliveries to military units went unconfirmed.
Another 387 reports indicating possible criminal action were filed by the agency and 320 protocols alleging violations of customs rules for humanitarian aid intended for military units were also filed.
#source
@WorkerSolidarityNews
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cctinsleybaxter · 3 months
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This is a huge deal for museology and sets a good precedent for other institutions, but idk that it would be happening if it weren't for the fact that all 16 sculptures were stolen by 1 guy
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tearsofrefugees · 4 months
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tiredassmage · 1 year
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Lensen Ryaldar - aka my “ah fuck, I’ve fallen in love with this absolute bastard and his devilish good looks anyway” (despite many poor and questionable decisions) collection, KOTET edition and in no particular order.
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tortoisesshells · 3 months
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19, 20, and 25, for the fic year in review asks, s’il vous plaît ?
19. Share your favorite opening line
' “It’s unusual, that’s all I’m saying,” said one of the men at the oars to another, shivering. ' from Who something lost, the seeking for Is all that’s left them, now -.
20. Share your favorite ending line
Answered here, but I'll also give the end of Customs ch. 28 a shout, because I love dramatic irony and, uh, this is as good as it's gotten for me, so far: ' “You have nothing to apologize for, Nellie,” he repeated, significantly, “Nothing. You are not the kind to forget. And neither am I.” '
25. What did you use to write? (e.g. writing programs, paper & pen, etc.)
Answered here!
End of Year Fic Writer Asks
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goddessofroyalty · 2 years
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For you zaun family au when do they get the last drop?
During the pregnancy with Claggor. Claggor wasn't conceived there but he was born there. 
I think they get the keys a little before the 3 month mark of the pregnancy (which is relevant to the earlier ask this week because heats are 3 monthly in my verses so Vander wants them moved and in before Silco’s next heat only to be informed that, actually that won’t be an issue because they’re isn’t going to be another heat for about a year, and, oh). 
It's somewhat connected to the last member of Vander's family dying (I don't know which one). I don't know if it was that member’s previously or the money Vander got from the little inheritance he received from his family brought it but it's definitively tied up with them... somehow.
It also happens to be at the time when, while their focus is still on rebelling against Piltover, they've managed to build The Lanes up to something actually sustainable. With them at the centre of both those networks. So a place where they can have people coming and going all hours without it looking suspicious is very much necessary (and it’s a good time to focus on setting it up while Silco is out of revolutionary action because pregnant). And a bar is kind of convenient for that. Especially seeing the Last Drop seems big enough I feel like it has rooms upstairs - both the conference/meeting and... short stay variety (plus a basement that honestly I wouldn't be surprised if it was or ended up connected to underground tunnels).
Also, you know, they're about to have another kid! A bigger space for themselves and their family is something they were already looking for.
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gilliebee · 1 year
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they sorted the lucic pregame interview into the bruins video section plzzzz ;-;
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cavsthighs · 30 days
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by the way i saw mullet at work today and it was very sad for me dont pine from afar its terrible it is like being afflicted with some kind of disease
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iamthewanderingbard · 8 months
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I’m going to be playing in a new TTRPG soon and I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED FOR IT HOLY FUCK!!!
A city set in fantasy 1920s times? Where everyone is morally ambiguous at best and a criminal at worst? With every faction in the city being run by an Arch-Demon? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!
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luminnara · 10 days
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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader
ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?
Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence
MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
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Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.
You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.
After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.
Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.
And you were miserable.
Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.
Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.
One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.
“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.
“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.
“You are crying.”
You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.
“Tell me.”
This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.
“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.
“Then let me put one into you.”
His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.
Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.
Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.
“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.
He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”
“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.
“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.
“I am with child.”
You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”
“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”
Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.
-0-
In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.
Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.
You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.
“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.
“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.
“…are you alright?”
You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”
“You are sick,” he pointed out.
It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“
“This has happened before?” He interrupted.
“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.
You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.
“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.
It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.
“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.
Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”
You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”
-0-
Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.
“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.
You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.
“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.
“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.
“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.
“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.
“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”
“No more.”
“But—“
“No more strangers touching you.”
"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"
At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."
"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.
He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."
You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."
He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."
"You train every day."
"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."
You heaved a sigh and followed him.
-0-
In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.
You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.
Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.
You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?
You tried not to dwell on it.
One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.
You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.
Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.
As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.
When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.
“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.
“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.
“I should not have touched you without permission.”
“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”
Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.
-0-
He was with you when the labor began.
You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.
Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.
That had been three hours ago.
Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.
“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.
You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”
He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.
“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“
“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”
You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.
When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.
You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.
A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.
“Feyd?” You asked.
He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.
“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.
You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”
He did.
Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.
“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.
“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”
“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”
That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”
“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.
“Are you happy?”
“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.
You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,
“I am as well.”
-0-
You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.
Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.
“Husband,” you said, approaching him.
“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.
“On your evening walk together, I see.”
He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”
“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.
“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.
“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.
“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.
“Looking for you.”
“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”
You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”
“You have my attention.”
“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”
In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.
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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year
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“Alleged Drug Ring Members in Court,” Windsor Star. October 9, 1942. Page 3. ---- James Humphries of McDougall avenue and his wife Ida were remanded one week for trial when they appeared in city police court this morning on charges of unlawful possession of drugs, brought against them last week by members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in their efforts to snuff out an international illegal drug ring believed operating out of Windsor: 
They were arrested October 3 by Constable W. Ramsay. Elzie Winans, Detroit, arrested October 3 by Corporal R. L. Woodhouse, of the R.C.M.P., was also brought to court on the same charge, and was remanded until October 16.
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Now he wonders where that question came from.
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