#the genre is time travel and its supremacy

[t1nngun]

Time travel excellency in k-dramas.

(🎞️ : lovely runner, twinkling watermelon, a time called you, blue birthday, marry my husband, 18 again)

#lovely runner #blue birthday #marry my husband #18 again #a time called you #twinkling watermelon #kdrama #time travel #the genre is time travel and its supremacy #byeon woo seok #kim hye yoon #ahn hyo seop #jeon yeo been #kim yerim #hongseok #park min young #na in woo #ryeoun #seol in ah #shin eun soo #choi hyun wook #lee do hyun #jeongeui #ryu sun jae #im sol

[jksian]

02 - You up? (m)

"Shut up and ride me, yeah?"

pairing: best friend Jungkook x inexperienced reader

genre: fwb, f2l, smut, angst and fluff

w/c: 3.8k

warning: phew well... teasing, netflix and chill y'k?, mentions of his tattooes, mentioned about the movie 'after' for once, mention of infidelity (I mean Jk's ex!), mention of a threesome🙊,overstimulation, fingering, sucking, reverse cowgirl oops, protected sex (jk uses protection, jk is smart, be like jk), marking, cum play?, use of vibrator👀, ✨SQUIRTING✨, everything is very wet wet, praises and kisses😍, intimacy!!!, crying (out of pleasure), little argument, JK is a soft dom because soft!dom supremacy!! and that's it, I think, also it's not edited!

a/n: okay so, I have found a very similar video of there first smut scene here, when he was fingering her. I wanted to share it with you guys. I was hesitant at first but with all of your votes being positive, I have the courage to do it, I think.

| Series masterlist | Masterlist |

When Jungkook asked you to hang out with him, you knew how it was going to be.

You under him, or in some cases, him under you.

In both cases, his dick would be buried deep inside of you.

When you got the massage ‘you up?’ it was inevitable what was the intention behind that. Still, your oblivious self made you sit here on his bed and scroll through hundreds of series in Netflix to choose which one to watch. You liked to make yourself dumb and naïve intentionally.

Ignorance is pure bliss. Indeed.

It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you to found Jungkook’s hand caressing your naked thighs as his hands soon travels all over your exposed skin, before they found their shelter in between your legs.

Classic Netflix and chill version.

At first, it was just an ordinary evening where two friends hang out and watch some movies together, but your relationship with Jungkook wasn’t ordinary. What kind of relationship you had with him, anyways? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Situation ship?

Nah. You both made it clear that you guys will remain friends no matter what, even though you heart wanted something more than that, you buried that desire deep inside of your head.

The movie ‘after’ played in his laptop, as you made yourself comfortable and took a seat in-between his legs, leaning your back on his chest.

Everything was good until the male protagonist started eating the female protagonist out in the movie, that scene made you shift uncomfortably in his hold.

Jungkook’s hand, which was rested on your thighs previously started rubbing soothing circle there, his face too close to your neck, almost nestling in it.

You breath hitched when his hands travelled up towards your torso, lifting your shirt a little to feel the soft skin there.

You whimpered a little, unexpectedly, when he twisted your nipple in between his fingers, rolling and squeezing the soft flesh and ravishing in the euphoric feeling.

He always loved your tits. Even though they were not as huge as every other boy fantasized about, they were enough. They were real. Whenever you expressed your slight insecurity about them, he was quick to comfort you, complementing about their shapes and how soft and perfect they were or how they always brought comfort to him. You found the later one, quite odd.

“What are you doing–,” Your voice was faint, merely able to held back the moan before it escaped from your throat because of the luscious touches of him.

He chuckled at your innocence or better, false innocence and brought your body closer to him, “Just want to touch you, may I?” His lips brushed against your earlobe before gently sucked on it.

You felt arousal coming out and ruining your panties further. The damage was already done, nothing to do about that.

You nodded and he didn’t waste any time and lifted your shirt up until your tits came to his vision, made it harder for the men behind you to breath.

One of his hand sneaking its way into your shorts, flickering your sensitive bud over your panties.

“W-we were supposed to watch the movie.” You cleared your throat and tried to act nonchalant but the quaver in your voice indicated otherwise.

He chuckled again, knowing very well the effect he had on you. “Is that so? But, I want you –,” He turned your face towards him, with his dark yet full of stars in his eyes, stared right back at you, “Now.”

His eyes flickered to your lips as his own tongue swiped over his lower one, licking your lips in the process before going back to your eyes.

You felt overwhelmed, with the amount of intensity he held in his eyes, at the way he touched you with his hands. Sinistery yet heavenly.

His lips crashed on yours, lips moving in sync, like they were made for each other, made to kiss and fold like this for forever.

You lips reminds him of the delicate caresses of a brush on canvas, where vibrant hues adorn the surface, creating it as beautiful and whole.

His fingers kept on pinching your nipples and massaging your tits at the same time. You couldn’t help but whimper in his hold, turning your face to moan which you were holding back. “Look at that, how wet you are.”

He whispered into your ear, warm breath hitting the side of your face as he started kissing your jawline, making his way to your neck. Alternating between kissing and gently sucking, he ensured that by the end, your body was adorned with an array of colors, colors of him, creating a vivid and captivating masterpiece.

“You’ve been grinding against me, so, isn’t it obvious?” Futile attempt to be sassy at that moment, especially when you couldn’t help but moan at every flicker of his finger on your clit.

“So you’re admitting it that I made you this wet, hmm?” You could see the cocky smile on his face even though your eyes were shut from the pleaser he was giving you.

Jungkook was good at many things but, knew it even better when it comes to using his fingers on you. He was familiar with your body as if it were the back of his hand.

He instructed you to lift your hips and pulled of your shorts along with your panties.

You heard him cursed under his breath when you spread your legs wide for him, gave him a glimpses of your glistening pussy.

He moaned into your neck when his finger slipped easily into your pussy, feeling more of your essence leaking on his finger. Your drenched pussy stuffed with his finger, “You’ve got a pretty little cunt, baby.”

The way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing, but you didn’t care the slightest and let the moans out freely.

Your eyes rolled back when he started pumping his finger without any mercy, your cunt clenched around his thick fingers adorned in various tattoos, stretching you out perfectly.

He groaned breathily into your ear at the squelching sounds, echoing through out his room. Your rested on his shoulder, eyes shut from the overwhelming sensation when he curled his fingers and hit the right spot.

“Oh fuck! K-keep going please –,” You pleaded, voice cracked as you weren’t even able to form a complete sentence.

“Please what, baby?” He still had time to tease when you were squirming and twisting under his hold, you wanted to smack him hard on his head but you decided to play it smart. Because, getting your release was more important than letting your ego win, especially when the men was so hot and called you ‘baby’. Wait…does he called you baby?

“Stop teasing and let me cum, Kook.” The way you called him that… should be illegal. You knew how he liked being called ‘kook’ and you used that to your advantage.

He grumbled and thrusted his fingers along with his thumb on your clit, giving hard flicks on the bundle of nerves, made your legs tremble.

“oh fuck –,” you moaned, biting on your bottom lip as your hips thrusted upwards on its own, chasing your release.

Your slick dripped down your thighs as you held onto Jungkook’s shoulder for your dear life, wrinkling up his t-shirt in your tight grasp.

“You look so fucking pretty when you cum, y’k?” He smirked at you and you just returned a glare before closing your eyes again and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him moving and when you looked around and saw him reaching down to the nightstand beside his bed and pulled out a condom along with something like…hold on!... Is that–

“Jungkook! What the fuck?” The disbelief in your eyes made him smirk even more, he found amusement in your little gasp, “Saved it for special occasions.” He said while grinning at his supposed comedic statement.

“Special occasions? Since when you had a vibrator with you?” You gave him a hard glare which was supposed to indicate that you were pissed but he laughed at that. He fuckin’ laughed.

“Bought it because, I thought…,” He moved his fingers, the same ones which was buried deep into your cunt and still had your cum on it, brushed it over your lower lip, “You’d like it.” Then shoved the same finger into his mouth.

He was a fucking maniac for moaning around his own fingers, as if he was tasting world’s most delicious food or something. The fingers came out of his mouth, coated with his saliva this time.

The slow buzz of the vibrator behind you made you shiver in his hold, you felt his hands on your hips, slowly dragging them up and down until he reached your ass. Squeezing your ass cheeks firmly, he landed a slap on it out of the blue and it made you squeal on his lap.

Leaning forward, Jungkook again, started peppering kisses on your back, sucking on any area he can and licking it afterwards as he continued, made your breath hitched.

His lips were irresistible. He was irresistible. As much as you hate to admit it, it was the truth. Even though, he was your best friend and you guys were on the strict rule of FWB, The men sucking on your skin made you this wet like no one else and made you feel things you’ve never felt for anyone before.

It was dangerous whatever it was happening between you two. You knew it but, does it made you stop? No.

The way you shameless let out the loudest moan when he brought that cute little pink magic wand to your clit, made you slap your hand on your mouth and your legs to shut immediately.

His hardness was poking on your lower back, he was in his boxer so it was easy to feel it through the thin layer of clothing. He remove the vibrator and in an instant, you shifted onto his lap properly, this time your pussy directly on his cock which made him gasped and groaned. The sounds he made was enough to grew the ache in between your legs, it made you needier for any kind of touch he could gave you.

Your slickness dripped on his clothed cock from your bare pussy as you grind on it. He shut his eyes from the feeling of it, you felt him twitching.

“Fuck. Wait– baby, you planning on making me cum in my pants?” He chuckled breathily, pupils dilated with sheer lust as he said, “Let me take off my boxers.”

You shifted of his lap before he took it off. The idea of making him cum in his pants was arousing, you smiled as said while turning around to look at him, “Not a bad idea, though.”

You received a smack on your ass again along with the sound of his sweet chuckle. “Shut up and ride me, yeah?”

That considered yet dominating tone of his voice made your heart swell and your pussy clenched. The fact that he was making sure to made you feel comfortable, if you wanted the same thing or not even though it was the thing he wanted was appreciating. You knew, if you told him no and stopped, he wouldn’t even question you.

You smiled in return and kissed him, cupping his face while leaning on his shoulder, your back pressed against his chest and his cock brushed against your entrance, this time bare, direct skin to skin. It was enough to made you go crazy.

He squeezed your boobs and aligned his member at your entrance. Moaning into his mouth, you glided down on his length and took him in one-go.

He moaned along with you. Before you could start moving, he brought the vibrator to your clit and set it at the lowest mode but that was enough stimulation for you to roll your hips.

Jungkook held your waist, guided you on his cock while keeping the vibrator on your clit steadily.

“Yeah baby, ride it like that. Make yourself come on my cock.” He said through gritted teeth, groaning under his breath every time you thrust back on him. His other hand pressed lightly on your lower belly where his bulge can be seen while he increased the speed of the vibrator a bit higher. Your thighs shakes from the overstimulation, tears formed in your eyes and your moans were uncontrollable.

“Fuck fuck, gonn– c-come,” You cried out, tears now freely running down your flushed cheeks, the squelching sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room.

“Shit, hold it for me.” You thrusts were becoming erratic, upon knowing that Jungkook immediately handed over the vibrator to you and held you by your waist, started thrusting back at you.

He lay down on the mattress, seeing how his cock disappeared inside you and reappeared made him twitch violently, “Yes baby, that’s it. You feels so fucking good,” He groaned.

His praises made you clenched around him, moaning from the pure pleasure, you throw your head back. Even though, the vibrator was making you overstimulate, you couldn’t brought yourself to remove it. Nails digging on his hand, leaving marks for him to remember just like the bruises which will be prominent on your waist later, because of the dead grip of his.

He was rougher than before, slamming into you without a care in the world, “Fuck, I can see everything from here, how your pussy is swallowing my cock, baby. S-shit –,” He didn’t missed a chance to hit that perfect spot inside of you, abusing it to the point that your walls spasm and you squirt all over his cock and the bed sheet beneath you.

Tears stream down your cheeks from the intense pleasure in your core, your whole body shakes, you immediately removed the toy from you but Jungkook never stopped, constantly slammed back at you.

“Fuck, J-jungkook,” More spurs of liquids gushes out of you every time his cock came out of you. You couldn’t handle the pleasure as your body gave out and you leaned back on his chest. He still continued while holding onto you.

“Oh fuck–,” Jungkook moaned, never stopping his movements. The way you squirt, the hot liquid coated his cock, how your drenched pussy felt so good was overwhelming for him. You made him overwhelmed.

“I-I’m coming –,” You shrieked, pussy gripping his cock almost painfully. Jungkook couldn’t think straight as your warm walls engulf his member completely.

“Come on, come for me, baby.” Your vision got blurry, the harsh thrusts and the overstimulation was too much for you. You moans choked out from your throat, you almost let out a scream but restrained yourself for the sake of his neighbors.

With a last thrust, he finally came. His eyes rolled back as he dick restlessly twitches inside of you before he spiller his seeds inside the condom.

He slides out of you and your come oozed out of you, your body fall on top of him and he held you close to his chest. You could heard the soft beating of his heart, his slightly harsh breaths as he tried to recover from the intense session you two just shared.

You both lay down there in silent, hearing each other breaths and just…held onto each other like that in an intimate way.

Jungkook shifted in his place as he held onto you gently, carefully, not wanting to hurt you by any means as he places you beside him.

Your eyes were still closed when he cupped your face in his hands, when you finally looked at him you saw him staring back at you with his usual wide doe eyes. He didn’t said anything at first, just stared at you with something in his eyes you couldn’t decipher before he spoke, “Are you okay?”

His voice was as soft as his touches, there was slight hint of concern in his tone. This little things was the reason behind your growing feeling for him.

How caring and considerate he was with you, how he treated you as if he wanted you. Yes, he does wanted you but not in the way you wanted him. He was the first one to comfort you, he was always there for you. As a friends, he was perfect. And, as a boyfriend, he would be definitely better than your ex.

You smiled at him, “Yes, I’m absolutely okay.” You said that rather enthusiastically, making him chuckled in the process. He gave you a kiss on your forehead before despairing into his bathroom.

You thought, how it might be if you could tell him about the things you felt for him. It all started after he got cheated on by his ex.

He was devastated after that. You still remember the day when he cried in front of you. Jungkook was someone who wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions through words nor liked crying in front of others. So, when he did, you could imagine how hurt he might had been at that moment.

Still, he gave her some time and came with an agreement that they both just needed space to figure out what they both wanted. Bullshit.

You never liked that idea. She literally cheated on him, even though she was kissing another girl on the lips, it still considered as cheating. Still, you supported Jungkook, because that’s what friends do.

Your chain of thoughts broke as Jungkook entered his room with a wet towel in his hand and a glass of water. You took it out of his hand and gulp down the water but he didn’t gave you the towel. He always does that, wiping your essence off of you every time. You stopped with your futile attempts of you can do that yourself long ago.

“Wait, let me take a shower.” You didn’t said anything, it was strange. Aftercare was important for him, you knew it. Usually, you two shower together or cuddled up on the bed, but, this time, he went alone. You found that odd before your focus shifted towards his phone.

The sound of a notification made your face turned towards the litted up screen. You scooted over it and the thing you saw made your blood boiled for unknown reasons.

You saw a notification from his ex-girlfriend. They weren’t in the talking situation so, why he got notifications from her. The suspicion and bitterness got the best of you and you quickly dressed to leave his apartment.

Just as you were about to head outside, he barged out of the bathroom, halting his movements for a second by your form standing in front of his door to leave, the automatic pout came onto his face out of confusion, he spoke, “Where are you going? Wait– why are you leaving?”

His brows pinched together a frown settled on his face, “Is everything okay?” There was seriousness in his voice. He tried to came closer but, he noticed the hesitation in your movements so he backed up, didn’t wanted to made you uncomfortable.

“I – just have something’s to do.” You lied, voice came out in an whisper as if you didn’t had any strength left in your body. Nothing wrong there, fucking Jungkook always made your body exhausted afterwards, but, your heart always felt content. Not this time.

Even if he sensed your lie, he didn’t question you. “Then, let me drop you there at least,” He went to grab his keys before you stopped him in the track.

“Do your still talk with Sana?” There was a few seconds of silence, not a sound of footsteps or even breathing. Utter silent. You heart beats increased with every second, holding onto your handbag, you waited for his reply.

“No… but, she followed me on Instagram yesterday.” He told you the truth, never wanted to lie to you. He just didn’t knew why he made this thing a secret. Not a secret, he just didn’t priorities it enough to discussed this with you.

“And?”

“And, I followed her back, then she sent a massage.” He said that so casually as if he was talking about a random person. It wasn’t any random person.

You turned around and looked at him. You didn’t understood why you felt a stinging pain in your heart when you saw him standing there oblivious. There was a slight worriedness in his eyes.

“Jungkook…I don’t know what you were thinking but…why didn’t you tell me? Also, why are you talking to your ex?” Okay, not so smart question. You did admitted that. That’s his life, he could talk to anyone he wants, so asking him why he did that was stupid.

Still, he tried to explain, “I– sorry, I should’ve said this before, but I thought it wasn’t much important to discuss about,”

“Wasn’t much important to discuss with me, right?”

“What? No! ____, It’s not what you’re thinking –,”

“Then, what is it? Jungkook, she cheated on you –,” Those words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. You wished you didn’t said that because the way his eyes went wide and glossy, made your heart hurt.

“Lets not come to an conclusion yet, she said she need some time and I gave her that. Also, she did that after…her last encounter with us.” This time, you gasped. He was talking about the threesome you guys had a month ago before their break up.

It was a casual thing between the three of you, all of you gave your own concerns, all three of you wanted that. Now, why he brought that topic into this argument. The conclusion was far more worse. You brain immediately responded with he thinks she cheated on him because of me.

His ex wanted to explore her sexuality after her encounter with you during the threesome. It all came clear in your mind.

“Are you implying that…she cheated on you because of me?” Your voice slightly cracked at the end of the sentence and you cringed. Not wanting to stay even a second there, you barged out of his room without looking back.

“No no, ____ , listen. I never blamed you– fuck! I could never do that, baby.” He grabbed you arm, tried to calm you down. “Please, don’t misunderstood me.”

His voice held so much vulnerability, panic rushed over his eyes. You couldn’t brought yourself to look at him, because if you did, you would mold back into his arms instantly and you couldn’t let that happen.

He kept on pleading to you, standing at the doorway and you. You huffed at his stubbornness, “Jungkook, please I have to go, now. We can talk about this later.” You again lied.

Jungkook wouldn’t wanted to disrespect your decision or invade your personal space, he backed away from the door. He couldn't understand outburst but he did knew that you never liked it when someone hide something from you. he knew, he made you upset which he never wanted.

You could see his glistening eyes staring right at you, his brows furrowed as he kept on looking at you until you departed from his apartment.

Your tears, unrestrained, finally flowed freely, unable to be held back any longer.

#jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook oneshot #jungkook #fic: yes or no? #jksian🤍 #bts

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy 7: The Finale

Label mature 18+

Honor & Heir

Summary

Feyd starts a war on Arrakis to gain final control over the Spice fields. He wants to finally free its massive profits to House Harkonnen and become the wealthiest family in the galaxy for you and his heir.

During your final month of pregnancy you and Feyd are summoned to the Emperors palace on the planet Kaitain by decree. Feyd is upset at any inconveniences to you with his unborn during this fragile time.

You reunite with your Reverend Mother in the palatial gardens and a fated decision must be made. The stress of the decision is so great you go into labor. For Feyd his world stops. He drops all of his responsibilities with the Emperor to be by your side.

Starts off Princess treatment romantic Ends with Feyds reign & birth of your child

⚠️Hard Core Smut⚠️

simultaneous self pleasure•size kink•fingering •handjob•forced orgasms•sex while sleeping•sex while injured•face sitting• submission •cum eating•thigh pinning• manhandling • position switching • body worship•multiple orgasms

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series Master List⚔️

Part 1•Part 2•Part 3•Part 4•Part 5•Part 6•Part 7 🗡️ Feyd Fantasy Chapter 1-6 Recap ⚔️Feyd Fantasy Master List ⚔️ 📖 All Genre Masterlist

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies!⌛️ Based on the film Dune Part 2 (Feyd supremacy timeline)

💀 Trigger warnings dark themes: graphic death(s)

⚔️Final Fic Requests ⚔️ -Feyd gentle with you -Feyd Adoring you -Feyd forgoes his pleasure for your own -Faceriding Feyd -More arousal fluid! -Feyd gives you the princess treatment -Bene Gesserit kidnapping plot -Feyd as a father

This series was so fun to make I want to personally thank each and every one of you!! The last chapter is a novel in itself please enjoy this epic finale 🙏🏻

Special thank you to my proofreader @faegoddessog my smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia and my affection consultant @magicovento thank you for jumping on this wild ride with me I am so appreciative of everything you did to improve the series ⚔️

More Gifs Loading…

Honor & Heir

You awaken on the Harkonnen palatial space craft traveling to Arrakis. You are in the beautifully decorated master suite on the giant bed. Resting across from you is Feyd sleeping peacefully in the black silk sheets.

You are enamored with his pale skin at this point especially in contrast with any dark color to enhance it.

You stroke your hand along his handsome face, he is completely out. It is becoming harder and harder for him to awaken in the mornings. Every time you use your ability to mentally inflict him with pain to orgasm it is essentially stealing his life force. He needs time to recover.

You have become infatuated with his pleasure sending severe signals of pain to his temple during sex to make him cum on your command. The way his back arcs as you watch the intensity increase in his yearning eyes always makes you orgasm as well.

During the evening he gave you a tour of the Harkonnen palatial space craft. When he saw you were impressed he could no longer contain his urges for you. As soon as he showed you the elaborately decorated master suite and saw the bed he wanted to claim you on it.

His hands slowly stripped your gown from your body as his lips ambushed your mouth. “I need to be inside of you” he panted staring into your eyes. You readily agreed and he kneeled before you pulling your gown and panties down as you stepped out of them.

“Have you ever fucked on a spacecraft Baroness?” He asked looking up at you with a knowing grin as you shook your head no. He picked you up in his strong arms bracing his hands beneath your thighs and kissed you sensually as he carried you to the black silk bed laying you down.

You rested back on your elbows to watch him stand from you and undress. He removed his regal top first revealing his perfectly chiseled physique.

His muscular chest and abs we���re on prominent display as his strong arms flung his tunic. When his fingers unclasped his pants you watched how his erect cock with his pink tip swayed as he stepped out of them.

Once his pale muscular body was naked he climbed over yours. His long thick cock dragged and touched against your thighs as he took his time pressing passionate kisses across your neck. He held your nape making you tilt your head back to gain more access to your throat for his wanting mouth. He sucked love marks across the entire front.

Once he had finished his trail of bruises he softly whispered against your ear “What would you like Baroness, how would you like me to please you?” it sent chills all over your body that he would let you decide.

His hand trailed down your abdomen resting at your core as he kissed your neck awaiting your instructions.

You had snuck into his kink cabinet before the trip and brought the arousal fluid. You knew he would be preoccupied on Arrakis and planned to use it to pleasure yourself while he was away.

Now when he offers himself for your desire you want him to use it on you instead . “In my things I have brought the arousal fluid, I want it Feyd” you say looking into his eyes. A smile forms on his lips as he helps you to get up. “If you have kept it hidden until now, did you plan to use it without me?” He questions as he spanks you before you leave his proximity. His dominance rising that you should ever be satisfied without him.

You smile shyly as you stand back in front of him with the vial. “Yes I planned to use it on myself” you admit. He rests back on his elbows with his muscular thighs spread apart, the size of his erect cock intimidates you. He gazes up to you with a deviant look in his eyes. “Show me” he says with extreme interest wanting to know how you pleasure yourself. It makes your heart skip a beat.

You become timid as his eyes look over you with such lust. You know once the fluid touches your folds you will be overcome with the need to pleasure yourself and will no longer by shy.

You apply a liberal amount to your fingertips and set the vail aside. As you reach between your thighs he mirrors your movements reaching his hand to take a firm hold of his cock. A small sound of pleasure escaped your lips. He will make you watch him as you do the same.

He tilts his head to the side studying your movements to match his own. You rub the fluid onto your entrance swirling your fingertips through your folds and letting out a breath.

The arousal fluid begins working instantly as the blood rushes to your core making your folds begin to pulse. With your clit and entrance throbbing you slip your fingers inside of yourself and let out a pleasurable gasp. Your eyes close as you enjoy the immeasurable feeling of calming the dull ache forming inside with your fingers.

Feyd begins to stroke off his cock eyes fixated on your hand between your legs. You begin making light sounds of pleasure and he pumps his shaft faster on his cock.

Your fingers become slippery from your over arousal and you try to reach deeper and pull down harder. You want to satisfy the dull ache increasing within but you can no longer gratify it, you need Feyd.

Your eyes open and gaze down at his changed condition. His hand is working feverishly on his shaft slicked with spit. His abs are flexing as he pants heavily in pleasure looking at you with an insatiable desire for sex in his eyes.

“I need you” you plead to him as you withdraw your fingers. He is on his feet and immediately claims you. His hand goes to your waist holding you steady and he plunges his two fingers deeply inside you.

You cry out from the pleasure of his larger fingers as they push through your tight walls. You clutch his shoulder with one hand and reach your wet fingers to his wrap around his cock with the other. He breathes a heavy sigh against your ear as you glide your fist around his shaft.

As you use each other for sexual gratification you reach your peak. His fingers are no longer enough, the arousal fluid has made you insatiable “Feyd I need you more please take me.” you beg him. He withdraws his fingers and lifts you onto his chest carrying you to the bed and forcing you down on your front.

He knows the arousal fluid makes you crave sex as he does, ruthlessly.

As he spreads your thighs apart you grip the sheets. When he presses his throbbing tip to your entrance you tense your body in preparation for his large size. He spanks you then and you cry out in shock “you want this cock and yet you tense?” he spanks you again on the same cheek shocking your body and making you moan “give yourself to me” he commands. You nod laying your head to the bed and relax your body.

He holds his hand firm on your lower back and pushes his large cock head inside of you followed by his thick shaft. You moan against the sheets from the overwhelming sensation of his size. He spanks you again to feel you clench on him “You were …made for ..me ..-Baroness. You are so tight …-on my cock… it drives me insane.” He pants out as he slowly rocks you on his length getting you used to his size.

As he increases his pace his thrusts become violent. He begins pounding you against the mattress splitting you open between your legs. You make small pathetic whimpers as your eyes roll up feeling the deepest part of your core completely satisfied.

He spanks you twice and you clench on him hard as you moan. “I want those pretty sounds Baroness” he commands. You begin to moan as he tucks his hands under your hips lifting them up and pulling you back to him on your knees with your chest to the bed.

He grips his hands around your hip bones and impales you onto his large cock. Your high pitched moans fill the air.

He impales you again and again pausing on the each of each thrust. When he feels the way your walls begin fluttering against his cock he knows you will cum.

He spanks you as he begins clapping his hips into you repeatedly and your body tenses overwhelmed with pleasure. You scream out yes in unending praise for him as you orgasm.

He pulls back his hips to withdraw from you and quickly grabs your waist. He easily flips you over to face him and plunges his large cock back in. “Feyd Rautha!” you moan out as your eyes gently roll back. Your body rocks violently from his thrusts.

“Make me cum!” He yells as his strong pace falters, his orgasm is imminent . You place your finger tips to his temple and inflict him with pain at the highest intensity making his body go rigid. He cries out in pleasure as he instantly cums filling your core with warmth painting your walls with his seed.

You release your fingertips and he regains control of his body almost collapsing on top of you. He breathes heavily as he looks down at you with a psychotic look in his eyes “I want more “ he says.

You give him what he desires and his orgasms increase with intensity. He makes depraved sounds as his cock pulses with no sperm left to give. With the arousal fluid working in your core you keep his pace.

On his fifth orgasm as you release him from pain he pants above you staring into your eyes mystified. You knew he can not handle another even though he wanted to.

With all his of his energy drained you collect him in your arms making him rest down on you. As you caress his head he fell into a deep sleep on top of you without withdrawing his cock.

In the morning when he doesn’t awaken after your gentle touches, you softly kiss his forehead and allow him rest. You plan to cease using your ability on him until he is fully restored.

Beginning your day you use the decontamination chamber,cleanse your mouth and face, then get dressed to eat breakfast in the dining room of the spaceship.

You walk through the large craft finding it eerily empty and cold. Once you locate the dining room there is a servant who attends to you and brings your meal. As you eat she informs you that one hour remains until you arrive on Arrakis.

When you finish you walk back to the master suite to inform Feyd. You place your hand in the designated finger print reader for the master suite door.

It registers your identity and the doors slide open allowing you inside. You find Feyd in the master bedroom. By this time he is awake and smiles as you enter the room.

He is putting the finishing touches on his gear dressed head to toe in his Harkonnen combat armor for war. You kiss his waiting lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he ask pushing his hand into his fingerless combat glove.” You smile enamored looking at him, eyeing his blades and how dangerously handsome he looks in his armor. Your attention finally returns to his handsome face.

“Yes I slept well and you?” You pry playfully because he could not even awaken. “I dreamt of you full and round with our unborn “ he says facing you smiling and placing his fingertips on your abdomen .”I felt complete“ He says as he gently pulls you close.

His words stir your passion for him and he holds you in his arms keeping you in his space as his eyes wander your face in the intimate moment.

”When I destroy the Fremen it will make us the wealthiest family in the galaxy. What would you like to do then?” He asks bringing one hand to softly hold the nape of your neck while caressing your jaw with his thumb.

Your heart swells realizing how powerful he could become “I would want you to be emperor.” You admit gazing up into his eyes. He traces his fingertips along your jawline to your chin caressing it affectionately with his thumb “So be it“ he says smiling back at you with his hypnotic blue eyes gazing into yours.

Through the small master suite window behind you he can see the glowing orange planet of Arrakis approaching in the distance.

“Come I want to show you something” he says and takes your hand. He leads you through the ship to the large and ornately decorated lounge. He brings you to stand in front of the floor to ceiling viewing windows.

Turning you to face them he wraps his arms around you to gaze at the planet together. At first you are only looking back to his face admiring him as he holds you in his embrace. You place your hands over his as he holds your close.

When you finally look out of the window a gasp escapes your lips. You are approaching the planet so quickly the enormity of the glowing orange world obscures the entire view of the window. It is an awe inspiring sight to behold.

Small bursts of light begin surrounding the ship until it sets ablaze glowing in flames across the window. You tightly grip Feyds hands frightened. He smiles pulling your closer against him as he kisses your ear “Don’t worry we are only entering the atmosphere” he says gently.

He admires how your eyes search over the landscape of his second planet once the atmosphere is breeched. He has fallen for you entirely he will give you everything, anything for his Baroness. You are his world.

The ship descends above an enormous palace structure built into a rocky mountain scape.

A heavy thud resounds the craft as it lands on its destination and the engines fade to silence.

Servants enter the lounge with two of Feyds advisors with your Doulah from Giedi Prime. They escort you to the exit of the craft.

As you descend the gangway the sweltering heat consumes you both. You squint your eyes from the brightness of the planets sun as you walk under a structured awning lined with guards into the cool depths of the palace.

Once inside Feyds assigned Menant greets him with a bow. “Welcome to Arrakis Baron Feyd Rautha your brother awaits you in the greeting hall. Baroness I hope you will find Palace Arrakeen to your liking. There are two female servants awaiting you in your chambers should you need anything during your time of greatest fragility.” You slowly understand his words they are concerned for your pregnancy.

Even though you have your doulah there are two more servants to attend to you. Feyd smiles at you realizing you haven’t even noticed the assassins trailing you for your protection from the ship yet. You are his top priority here. “Come let’s go see Rabban” he says taking your hand.

You are escorted to the greeting hall. As you walk through the palace everything is ancient sandstone with large pillars and supports. There are hand carved etchings on every wall showing the deep rooted history of the planet. Beige is the prominent color of every furnishing and decoration.

You arrive to the greeting hall and as the large doors open Rabban is already walking down the room to greet you “Brother!” He exclaims to Feyd. Rabban is dressed very casually in a simple black silk tunic. He looks relaxed and carefree as if he is not even in the midst of a planetary war.

Arrakis was Rabbans retreat away from the Baron he has the palace set up to his liking and with his uncles passing each day he has become more goal oriented to impress the new Baron, his younger brother.

Rabban bows to Feyd and smiles at you. “The colors of Geidi prime suit you well Baroness ” he says noticing you fully dress in black now to match Feyd. You smile and simply nod.

“I have much to share with you Baron Feyd Rautha” Rabban chides his brother who tries to disguise his pride at the new title. “Come let’s all eat the meal I have had prepared for you with the delicacies of Arrakis.” Rabban says excitedly.

You follow him to the dining hall. The room is very large with vaulted ceilings, yet very beige and minimalist. There is a huge scale rug the length of the table and sun protecting the long windows which let light inside. You sit to Feyds left at the sand stone table in a hovering chair.

The meal is placed in front of you. Dried fruits, roasted meats, cheeses, and seeds. You are intrigued by dessert food.

As you eat Rabban and Feyd discuss the ongoing war efforts with his two advisors.

“When you ordered the annihilation of the Fremen I knew it would be a difficult war. We keep them at bay but they return with more forces like rats! If we find their strongholds in the north we can finally subdue them and continue south. I have much to discuss with your calculated mind brother.” Rabban conveys as he eats

Feyd nods and reaches for your hand which you hold as they continue to speak on the matter. He traces his thumb across your knuckles as he discusses war strategies. He is so resolute and cunning as he speaks it makes you desire him.

After lunch Feyd bids you farewell with a kiss on the lips and leaves you with your servants. He heads to the war room infatuated with what he has planned over lunch with Rabban. A surprise attack on the Fremen this very evening.

In the center of the war room is a table which projects the live locations of all Harkonnen war crafts near estimated Fremen strongholds. The military strategist give Feyd the records he requested of the heaviest attacks on the harvesters and uses them to point where the Harkonnen war vessels should attack.

They wait and watch as the crafts shoot live rounds into pinpointed locations. Next they order the ground troops to search the hidden cavernous structures during the cool of the night after the destruction.

They locate several more hide outs annihilating every being within. The Harkonnen ground troops then signal the war crafts to completely destroy the structures knowing far more are hidden beneath.

The collapsing rubble kills thousands more who hid deeper inside. The unsuspecting Fremen who planned to attack at day break when the Harkonnens were weaker and more susceptible to the climate are thwarted.

The Harkonnen destruction sets the desert ablaze glowing with fires that fill the night sky of billowing smoke and the cries of the few scattered survivors who plan to retaliate with their last dying breath.

It is the early hours before sunrise when Feyd finally returns to you in the palace bedroom. He will be leading a charge in the morning to dispatch the remaining survivors in the rubble of destruction from the hours of raids.

He wants to ensure first hand he has taken the north from the Fremen for good.

After he strips of his armor he uses the decontamination chamber. He tilts his head up as the water sprays over him smiling that he has done what his uncle could not. Free the north to harvest spice at will. He has even crueler intentions set for those tomorrow that oppose his reign on this planet. After the hot air dries him he walks through the darkened grand room naked.

He climbs into bed with you and rests his hand on your hip. Feeling you safe finally calms his thoughts of war and bloodlust. He pulls you to him and tries to fall asleep.

After several moments shifting with his eyes closed he is unable to. The nights on Arrakis are too hot for his body. He is used to the colder climate on Giedi Prime. He lays closer to you and begins caressing your waist to distract himself. It makes him desire you and perhaps he thinks once physically satisfied he can sleep in the heat of the desert night.

You lay with your back to him as he slips his fingers over your neck to clear your hair from your shoulder. His lips make contact with your skin as he inhales your scent. He plants soft kisses but you do not sir.

He brings his hand over the front of your core sneaking his fingers between your folds and swirling them against your clit. His cock begins pressing hard against your thighs but you still do not move sleeping soundly. He decides then to use you gently enough for his pleasure without disturbing your rest.

He sucks his fingers and pushes them into your entrance as he lays behind you. Feeling the heat inside of you hardens his cock solid. He works his fingers slowly until you become wet for him. He aims his cock to your folds and presses into you as slowly.

His heart rate increases as he feels the tightness of your walls take each inch of his cock. He finally settles you on his base and lets out a breath of pleasure. He pushes his cock into you deeply to feel the friction of your walls without awakening you. He concentrates to remain himself and stay at such a slow pace.

When you finally awaken and Feyd is already thrusting between your legs making you begin panting and moaning shocked into arousal at already being penetrated.

Your brain strives to catch up with your body as your heart beats wildly. You hear his heavy grunts behind you as his hips pound against your thighs. He works his thrusts holding your waist to him keeping you steady on his cock.

He grins at having to last a little longer now that you are awake to make you cum with him. He cups your breast pinching and pulling the nipple that makes you cry out for him as you clench on his length.

You moan his name as he thrusts into you harder and he knows you will cum. He brings his hand to your clit slipping his fingers over the wet nub to make you orgasm. “Feyd I’m going to cum” you moan out. “Cum for me” he commands. His lips press your neck sucking more love mark into your flesh.

Your back arcs as you orgasm and he flicks your clit faster with his fingers as he paints your walls with his cum. His head falls back and you hear him groaning in pleasure at the euphoric feeling of your walls milking his cock. He slows his thrusts to a stop when he is empty and you both pant as you come down.

You suddenly smile as you laugh in the darkened room “Why didn’t you awaken me?” You ask as he withdraws his cock from your body. “I couldn’t sleep and you were resting so soundly.” He admits.

You turn over to face him. The room is dimly lit with moonlight but you can see him smiling in satisfaction. His body is glistening in sweat and he is still panting. You press your hand to his forehead and his chest feeling he is hot all over.

You sit up and pull the sheets from him. You eye his body the way he is still labored breathing. “Feyd It is too hot for you here.” you discern getting up from the bed to help him cool down.

Though the planet is scarce with water the Arrakeen palace rests on an aquifer, structured above its cavernous system of fresh water.

You run a bath for Feyd in the sand stone basin. You call to him when it has filled. As he rests in the cool water you bring a cloth and soak it to pat on his neck and chest before placing it on his forehead. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to place a kiss there as he looks into your eyes.

He has never been cared for in this way and his eyes plead for more. You smile at him and kneel by the basin. You rub his face and neck with the cloth until his eyes close and he relaxes.

Once he is settled you cover your mouth and yawn. He sees you are tired “Go rest I will join you soon” he says and you place a kiss to his forehead.

You return to bed exhausted and fall back into a deep sleep. When Feyds body cools down he joins you in bed soon afrer and holds your waist kissing behind your ear enamored. He finally closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Only Pleasure Remains

It is the morning of Feyd’s battle reconnaissance on Arrakis.He will be going to the front lines to kill the remaining Fremen and rally the troops. His heart beats wildly as he prepares. Once fully in his armor he kneels down to caress your face. He might die today from a strategic attack, so he makes sure you see him leave “See me off Baroness” he says smiling as you open your eyes.

You reach up and cup his face and he pulls you from the sheets into a hug. His hard armor presses into the softness of your body. You hold his head around his ears making him lock eyes with you.

“You will prove your honor and then you will come back to me” you command him and he smiles giving you a chaste kiss. You know he is going to love every second of murdering today. He is in full military gear this time with a flowing regal cape.

You quickly cleanse your mouth and get dressed. You leave with him to the greeting hall where his top military advisors and brother are assembled and waiting.

You walk hand in hand trailed by your servants. You stop the procession and pull him into a kiss before he enters the greeting hall. He accepts your passionate kiss and pets down your hair. When you release his lips as your heart beats wildly youare terrified for him. “Do you feel nervous?” You ask feeling the uncertainty of warfare second hand.

He smiles staring into your eyes “I was born to be this” he confesses. It give you some reprieve that his words are true, his bloodline was bred for centuries to create a supreme being.

The servants open the greeting hall doors and you watch Feyd join his brother and his men. He looks back to you and smiles his cape unfurling as he turns with his commanding walk leaving to the underground warships cargo of the palace.

You stand at the greeting hall floor to ceiling windows and wait. After a moment his armada can be seen emerging from the base of the palace. The ships hover in place before setting the course to their destination and jettisoning off.

As the ships trail over the horizon your heart aches with uncertainty as you await Feyds return.

Flying south across the desert Feyd sees several structures in rubble with smoke billowing from them. “The death of our enemy by your hand brother “Rabban yells to Feyd over the loud engine of the craft. Looking into the horizon Feyd sees hundreds of billowing stacks of smoke.

They approach a large intact rock structure at the barrier of the north territory and the craft lands. Feyd exits the craft as his military strategist informs him they have rounded up the remaining Fremen who are most likely spies left behind.

Feyd plans to kill them all.

“Where?” He asks as they enter the structure. It is a cave with several rooms, one of them filled with messenger birds that a Harkonnen soldier crisps to death with a flame accelerator.

The military strategist escorts Feyd to the Fremen spies who are lined up on their knees in a single row. The large cave is overcrowded with Harkonnen soldiers for Feyds protection.

Feyd walks approaching the Fremen spies slowly. He eyes each of them in the line. “Are there more of you?” He asks. None of them respond, instead they hold their heads up in defiance.

“These are all that could be found alive Baron Feyd Rautha” his military strategist confirms

“Then I already know everything that I need to know” Feyd says staring at the first spy on his knees.

Feyd unsheathes his blade. The first spy sensing his certain death stands and lunges Feyd who easily slices him across his throat. The spy collapses to the ground gurgling on his blood as he expires.

The other spies begin to panic breathing rapidly looking to each other in fear knowing death is imminent.

Feyd gestures a solider to bring him the flame accelerator. His Harkonnen soldiers step from behind the spies and gather around Feyd to behold the mercilessness of their new Baron.

“Only pleasure remains” he announces clutching the trigger. It douses the spies in flaming liquid making them combust. The accelerant ignites their bodies into glowing torches illuminating the cave. All the soldiers hear the Fremens screams cut off as they burn alive disintegrating into char.

Feyd knows this is one of the most painful way to die. Once the other Fremen find these charred remains it will strike fear and respect into the inhabitants of the planet for the entirety of his reign.

This is the first of many strongholds they must clear today. Killing all who remain and securing control of the north.

Two Ways to Die

As you settle for bed you still have not heard of Feyd’s return. You feel anxious and slide open the balcony doors to view the desert for any signs of incoming crafts forgetting the rules set in place by Feyd. The night air is swelteringly hot as you scan the horizon.

There is a sudden knock at the main chamber door as you close the balcony. It is one of your assassins who knocks on your bedroom door. “I’ve been informed you’re not allowed on the balcony Barnoness ” he relays after you open it. You nod in agreement and close the bedroom door back . You are being watched at all times while Feyd is away.

You awaken a few hours later when there is activity in the main chamber. You hear Feyds voice speaking to the guards. You rush from the bedroom to the main chamber and see him. His eyes are emotionless as you run to hug him.

He is covered streaks of blood and it makes you gasp. He releases your hold on him “Wait for me in the bed chamber” he says clutching your wrists to keep your hands unsullied. He releases your wrists and you go to wait. He continues speaking with your assasind before dismissing them to the hall for the remainder of the night.

You pace looking to the bed chamber doors waiting. He finally enters and you notice the dark blood on his neck “You’re hurt!” You exclaim.

He is exhausted and keeps you at bay holding his hand out “Sit and wait for me I have already been treated by the palace healer ” he reassures you as he gestures you to sit. He walks to the decontamination chamber room and closes the door.

You wait anxiously until he emerges. Once he is clean you rush him again to check his body.

You see the bruises on his back and abs but the worst is the lengthy cut on his neck.

You trace your finger along the line, it is sealed shut. “Feyd what happened?” You ask finally looking into his eyes full of concern.

He walks you to the bed and sits pulling you onto his lap conserving his strength. He brings your hand to his temple to comfort him with your energy.

He closes his eyes and you observe his stressed face relax as you transfer calmness into his mind. He opens his eyes to gaze in yours and you see the softness return to them as he slowly begins revealing what happened.

“We were ambushed at one of the final strongholds” he admits. Your eyes widen in disbelief that he was attacked.

“The Fremen I fought to the death kneed me throughout as we struggled to gain the blade. I angled to allow him a slice to my neck and regained the handle once he extended his wrist. A small sacrifice to secure victory“ he admits with a weak smile. Your heart spirals knowing that he was in life threatening danger.

“In that moment just as in the arena when I felt death was near I laughed because I already have everything set in place to keep you safe forever should I die. I have always known I will not live long in this lif- - .”

You hug him to your chest to stop his morbid words. You don’t want to hear him say another utterance of his death it makes you emotionally fall apart.

You remove your robe from your shoulders and settle on to his lap. Both of you naked as you clutch his jaw and kiss every thought out of his head.

He relaxes into your kisses and lays back flat on the bed holding you to him never breaking the connection of your lips. He trails his hands up your spine settling them to the nape of your neck.

An idea returns to his mind of the only two ways he wants to die; one is in ultimate submission to you.

He pulls your face from his and gazes into your eyes. “I want to submit myself to you” he says sliding his hands to your hips lifting them up. He pulls you forward until your pussy hovers over his face. “I want to give myself only for your pleasure” he confesses

He trails his hands up to your waist and eagerly pulls you down onto his wanting mouth.

Once you settle on his face between your legs you tilt your head back and moan his name. He has never submitted to you in this way before and it completely ignites your sexual passion for him.

You fall forward and grip the sheets as he begins eating you mercilessly lapping your folds sucking them and jutting his chin up with every flick of his tongue. You are shaking and screaming in pleasure as your core tightens overwhelmed with his skill.

He groans against your folds and replaces his hands to cup your hips guiding you up and down on his mouth making you ride his face as he pushes his tongue into your entrance.

You grind against his mouth until your thighs tremble as you moan and orgasm. Your core releases the clear liquid arousal of your cum directly into his wanting mouth. His eyelids flutter in obsession lapping up your arousal in pure bliss. He licks you clean and pushes his tongue into your entrance prodding for more.

The only two ways he would choose his death; Being fatally stabbed by an expert fighter or being suffocated between your thighs devouring your sweet cunt until he expires.

Once you orgasm and have no cum left to give he grips the back of your thighs and quickly rolls on top of you. He climbs your body and settles between your legs. He lines his cock and plunges into your soft wet entrance. You are completely primed for him and he sinks deeply inside of you as he groans in pleasure.

You moan at the stretch of his large his size before you cry out at the way he fucks you.

He pounds into you grunting and spreading your thighs apart with his hands. He holds them back to increase his pleasure. He is so high from submitting to you and having you ride his face until you came that he is relentless.

His cock is painfully hard as he thrusts into your tight walls. He clenches his thighs to push himself even deeper. You two pant and moan in unison as he quickens his thrusts going harder wanting to cum.

He looks at your face full of passion beneath him and you see the intensity in his eyes of how much he loves you. It is immeasurable.

You reach up grab his neck pulling him down into a kiss. You lock your lips with him as he rocks into you with his thrusts. His hips falter and he deeply moans into your mouth as he begins releasing his warm cum in to you. He breaks the kiss but you bite his lower lip making him stay and he cums even harder.

You wrap your legs around his waist to prevent him from slamming you into the bed and it intensifies his pleasure even more, keeping him fully inside of you as he empties his pulsing cock. He finally slows his thrusts to a stop.

He shudders as he stares down at you catching his breath. It was one of his most fulfilling sexual experiences he’s had with you and you both smile at each other in recognition.

He lifts his hips and slips out of you rolling on to his back trying to slow his breaths.

You are both covered in sweat your sex making the room increase in temperature.

You know he is hot and leave the bed to fill the sand stone basin. Once it is full you stop the valve. He hears it and comes to get in the cool water. As he steps he holds your hand to join him, helping you over the ledge.

He settles down in the water and has you lay your back against his chest. As he holds you firm to him, you both of you rest your eyes enjoying the intimate moment.

He trails his hand along your shoulder before finally breaking the silent moment. “Ask your Doulah how soon after the first can I fill you with a second.” You laugh at his eager request and how much he wants to have more children with you.

Flipping over in the water you rest on his chest with your arms around his neck. You gaze into his impatient eyes as you answer resolutely “Feyd Rautha first you must have this one” he grins and flips you over to rest your back on his chest again. His hands slide down around your womb beneath the water cradling you with his first unborn. He can not wait to have his children with you.

The Final Days

Feyds powers increase exponentially. He begins bombing raids on large structures in the south of Arrakis killing hundreds of thousands. The inhabitants of the planet submit to him completely to save what remaining ancient holy structures they have left.

They believe no matter who controls the planet that one day their Muad’Dib will rise and avenge the catastrophes Feyd Rautha has caused their people.

Without interference from the Fremen the Harkonnen army begins to run the harvesters untouched increasing Spice production exponentially.

When Feyd frees the hold on Spice his wealth soon surpasses that of the emperors. He uses his excess riches and status to coerce and bribe other members of the great houses. The calculating Feyd Rautha becomes untouchable.

Feyds upgraded quarters are substantially luxurious on Giedi Prime. The bed frame is carved from the black Harkonnen stone of purity.

There is a seating room, a sauna, a spa, and a room to entertain guests with a balcony that stretches the entire length of the suite.

Due to his constant concerns of your safety he requested you remain there for the final weeks of your pregnancy ensuring everything you needed was provided for.

When Feyd returns after his Baron duties he always seeks you out embracing you like he hasn’t seen you in days. He is running several interplanetary campaigns as well improving the world for his people. He cherishes the calm quiet moments you can spend together.

He wants the same thing each time after he bathes. He hugs you from behind running his hands over your full breasts and your womb whispering gently in your ear about how beautiful you look carrying his unborn until he makes you smile.

Then he would help you lay on the bed and place his ear against your womb. At first he would thump it with his fingers it summon the unborn until you told him just to use his voice instead and placed his hand were you knew he would feel the kicks.

He was infatuated feeling his unborn respond to him. He would pull your hand to his head forcing you to send him calming energy and would often fall asleep exhausted in your lap with his hand resting on your womb this way. Other nights he wanted more.

The first instance when you felt the dull ache that wouldn’t dissipate during sex you grabbed his arm begging him to stop as you tried to recover from the pain. The penetration of his large cock became too painful. He immediately withdrew himself and held you in his arms caressing you until you felt the pain subside.

You still craved him but in a much softer way and he understood. You were sacred to him and he couldn’t get enough of you but he would forgo his pleasure for your own.

Having you sit up he would stack pillows behind your back and worship your body trailing kisses down your neck to your chest sucking each of your nipples into his mouth.

He would continue down your belly massaging the sides before gently settling between your legs. He would pleasure you slowly and carefully sliding his fingers in and out of you coaxing the swollen firmness within that made you fall apart for him within seconds.

His favorite part was your new taste his breathing would become heavier waiting for the exact moment you clenched on his fingers as you came. He would lap up your arousal which was so sweet to him like nectar.

His cock would painfully harden as he made you cum and he tasted it.

When he pleasured himself for you he would always let you watch. Often he would squeeze one of your full breast in his hand as he came or have you press your fingers to his temple and illicit him with pain to release his cum.

After he orgasmed he would clean his hands and take the pillows from behind your back turning you on your side. As he lay behind you he would kiss the back of your head and place his hand on your womb as you slept.

He knew anyday the unborn would be arriving. When it was dark in the stillness of night he would be awakened by the unborns firm kicks against his hand. They were so powerful now.

A Royal Decree

When Feyd is summoned by royal decree to Kaitan to meet with the Emperor he is enraged at the timing during your most fragile state of pregnancy. As you load onto the warship he fears for your safety and health on Kaitan but he can not leave you on Geidi Prime he knows you will birth his heir any day and he will not miss it. He brings his best militants and assassins with your Doulah.

The Emperor assures him they have the most skilled midwife in the galaxy should complications arise. He knows that the child is protected by the Bene Gessirit as one of the most highly sought after bloodlines to create a supreme being in history. He welcomes Feyd with open arms.

As you arrive to Kaitan you are mystified. You look at the expanse of the lush green planet in all directions as you fly to the palace. The craft descends at its destination and you see the infamous palatial waterfalls similar to the ones were you used to study.

You become excited and squeeze Feyds hand as he rests next to you in the space craft lounge. You haven’t seen your home world in almost a year but it feels like a lifetime.

You and Feyd exit the craft together escorted by two advisors, three assassins, and a flank of his most skilled Harkonnen warriors stationed behind him.

The palace greeter is shocked by Feyds entourage it is like an Emperor’s“ Greetings Baron and Baroness Harkonnen I am Pitri” The greeter says as he warily eyes your full pregnancy “The Emperor apologizes for requesting your presence at such an inconvenient time but some rather alarming accusations have come to light that must be addressed in person. I’m sure you will come to understand. I will show you to your quarters.” He announces.

You walk through the grandiose palace to reach the guest suites and are shown to your accommodations. Two of your Bene Gessit sisters wait at the door to welcome your arrival they approach you in jubilation. They are pushed back by the assassins ready to unsheathe their swords.

Feyd snaps his fingers and smiles as they release the startled females. Exactly the protection he wants for his Baroness. “May we approach Baroness Harkonnen” they bow and ask correctly the second time. You nod and smile as they come to hug you. They marvel over your garments and your rings.

Feyd leaves one guard with you and waits as the assassins clear the room of any threats.

Once they clear the room you are permitted to enter. Your sisters pull your hands gently guiding you inside. Your eyes widen at the extravagance of the room is like its own small palace. Pillars in the entry way make you look up to a hand painted mural of the palatial gardens

The room itself is open to a palace lake. Round awnings are decorated with curtains that billow in the wind. The room is completely open to an outside garden.The theme is turquoise and gold decorations throughout the colors are bright and fanciful every room is filled with fresh fruit and decorative bouquets of flowers.

You are quite exhausted from the trip but your sisters beckon you to sit with them in the enormous living room and you oblige.

As you rest on a sofa together they can’t help but caress your belly. “When does the unborn kick?” Your sister Freya asks feeling the round firmness pressing her ear to your womb “Very often at night” you say wearily.

“How has Baron Feyd Rautha been during your pregancy. The rumors of Giedi Prime men and their treatment of females is atrocious.” Delphine says making a wary face toward Feyd while he is speaking with his advisor.

You smile looking down at your belly trailing your hand around it “He has surprisingly been obsessed with me and his unborn” you admit as you blush. They smile with you. ”He has even broached the topic lightly in meetings with his advisors about the evolving roles of females on Giedi Prime. I fear if he isn’t careful some will assume a female might be in control of him” you tease making the three of you giggle together in secret.

Feyd’s advisor informs him the Revered Mother has requested your company in isolation. He immediately dismisses it. “I do not know this female. The risk is too great here she can come to Giedi Prime where I can guarantee the safety of the Baroness” he says in a set tone. His advisor bows and arranges to send the correspondence.

The Emperor has requested a private meeting with Feyd over dinner that evening which intrigues him more. As you speak to your sisters he prepares for the occasion.

When you notice he has retreated to get changed you bid your sisters farewell.

Once they leave you head to the master suite joining Feyd and close the door. You rest back on the ornate canopy bed with your arms splayed at your sides The garden breeze blows through the room bringing the sweet scent of florals. You feel heavy and physically exhausted you can no longer get up and use your remaining energy to turn on your side instead.

Feyd emerges from the wardrobe room dressed regally in a black high collar shirt with a cape. Pinned to the front is his Baron Medallion.

He walks over to you and smiles, seeing you are unable to remain awake he caresses your face. “I will call your servants to attend to you I want you to rest until I get back” he says gently as your heavy eyelids shut. This is normal behavior for you now. He knows his powerful unborn is harvesting all of your energy he caresses your womb before he leaves to have dinner with the Emperor.

The Emperor

Feyd walks the enormous palace to the throne room with two of his Harkonnen guards. They are stopped at the doors by the Emperial solidiers, only Feyd is permitted to enter.

He looks around the large dome space of the throne room in its impressive grandeur. There is no one in sight. He eyes the throne of the Emperor and takes a few paces toward its golden steps before a familiar voice stops him.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my how you’ve grown.” Princess Irulan says as she approaches him.

She swishes her elaborate silver gown as she walks over to study the mystifying man before her with appealing interest.

She pleasantly smiles as they greet. “The last I’d seen you was ages ago. I remember it distinctly…you were so excited to show me one of your new blades…of course my servants ushered me away. ‘He’s a dangerous child they warned me, but I found you to be very sweet.” She says fondly smiling from the memory looking at how handsome he’s become.

“I have no memory of this “ Feyd admits

“You were but a boy about this tall” she measures to his chest at his Barons medallion then looks into his striking blue eyes. “But you’ve grown much bigger since then.” She admits with an alluring smile, she slowly encircles Feyd looking over his regal clothing and his strong physique before standing in front of him again with a mysterious smile.

“I was dismayed I couldn’t attend your gladiatorial event I would’ve loved to see you wield the blades you are so fond of.” she sighs “From what I hear you performed valiantly and then had quite the time at your birthday celebration….before……your uncle unexpectedly expired the next morning...” she shares.

Princess Irulan approaches him closer to check his eyes trying to discern if he actually killed his own uncle.

“It must have been bitter sweet” she says gazing deeper into his eyes as she presses her hands to smooth the front of his cape. Feyd takes a small step back due to her comfort in his proximity.

“Your father had me summoned here why are you the one who greets me?.” He asks tilting his head in curiosity.

She studies his stoic demeanor wondering how she can crack him to bend to her will. She finally pinpoints a weakness and ignores his question to interrogate him.

“Knowing your infamous lust for power it seems all too convenient doesn’t it? Your uncle falling ill as soon as my father deems you the worthy Baron of Geidi Prime?” She says tracing her fingertip around his Baron Medallion.

Feyd can no longer stand her incessant talking and veiled threats “Where is the Emperor?” He snaps. His dominance excites her and she stares at him with an unwavering intensity having never been talked down to.

She tries to gain his favor with sympathy .“My father is frail. He wasn’t feeling well this morning. He and I were supposed to meet you in the throne room together but look he is still at the out door dinner table set up for us, just there” she points and Feyd sees the frail old man being helped to sit back down at the head of the table in the palatial gardens.

“My father is a very proud man he will walk to you eventually but let’s make it easier and walk to him together through the garden shall we?.“ she requests looking at Feyd with kind eyes.

He cares nothing for the old man but walks to make the meeting faster.

Princess Irulan slips her hand around Feyds arm as they walk, he immediately releases her hold stepping aside as they continue on their path. “It is impolite for a guest to refuse an escort to the Princess in the palace” she corrects him.

“I do not entertain the wishes of a princess” he responds clasping his hands behind his back as they walk together. She smiles enjoying the way he challenges her.

“Typical Harkonnen male unassuming of the power a female can weild“ she says pulling his arm and replacing her hand around it.

“My title holds more power over yours in every way possible Baron Feyd Rautha you will do as I say” she commands. It burns Feyd on the inside to be talked to in such a way but he does not show it.

He clearly sees through her veiled attempts to control him for her benefit. Her dress her mannerisms the way she continues to stare longingly at him holding his arm. All signs the Emperor is desperate to arrange a marriage between them.

Feyd knows the mysterious leak of Vladimir Harkonnens documentation of the ordered Atreides genocide must have reached Kaitan by now.

With the correspondences traced directly from the palace ordering the attack on Caladan, the Emperor must be aware his reign is coming to an end.

As they both approach Emperor Shaddam smiles. He is a frail old man with white hair and a stoic face. He wear an extravagant shimmering white tunic with gold adornments.

“Feyd Rautha! Ah my mistake Baron Feyd Rautha I haven’t seen you since you were a boy” he exclaims “I’ve already told him father “ Princess Irulan says flatly. ”You look very handsome with my Princess Irulan on your arm why did you ever go back on that proposal negotiation! I would adore to call you my son in law.” The Emperor reveals.

“You both know why” Feyd Rautha admits shooting them glances and removing Princess Irulans hand the final time before he continues.

“What I want to know is why you can’t even bring yourself to acknowledge her, my Baroness.” he says eyes glaring between them. It enrages him that they think of him without you.

The Emperor puts his hands up to calm the situation “Baron we are aware of her yes and her condition we are just confused. Your uncle informed us you needed her to procure an heir but due to high incompatibility you would be sending her back here to Kaitan.” The Emperor reveals. Feyd tries to hide the impact of the shocking blow of the Emperors revalation by shifting his jaw.

Princes Irulans passions increase for Feyd seeing he is truly in love, this is his weakness. She watches him fidget with his signet ring clearly distressed and thinking about his Baroness. She is used to cold political marriages and power dynamics. Seeing a Harkonnen male with his heart strung for a female stirs something inside of her.

She thought him to be masculine and domineering which excites her. But the handsome man who stands before her is also intelligent and loyal with extreme wealth and honor. She must have him.

“The Baroness is my wife and her child is my heir” Feyd proclaims.

The Emperor puts his hands up in acknowledgment “I see that there has definitely been a misunderstanding. Irulan my lovely daughter, you will not be joining us for dinner” The emperor informs her. Princess Irulan lifts her chin in frustration, she is used to getting her way.

She approaches her father and kisses his cheek bidding him farewell. She smiles to Feyd “My father is a kind man unlike your uncle, what a shame, House Harkonnen could have held such a powerful union.”she says alluringly.

Feyd lifts his chin with a sinister gaze “ If you so desire to be betrothed into House Harkonnen so be it. Emperor Shaddam set forth the arrangements to marry Princess Irulan with my brother Rabban” her eyes widen in shock. Rabban is a brutal impulsive butcher she does not desire him at all.

Feyd enjoys the fear in her eyes and holds back his smile as the Emperor actually mulls it over.

Before he can utter a word Princess Irulan cuts in. “Father we must speak with the Reverend Mother on such arrangments” she says quickly.

Her father nods in agreement. “You are correct as always on these matters my precious daughter” he says taking her hand and patting it. She looks to her father and then longingly at Feyd bidding them farewell for the evening.

The emperor rests back down in his chair at the head of the table clearly tired from the exertion of merely standing. He gestures Feyd to take the seat at his right as a servant pulls the chair for him.

A meal of fresh herb filet is plated infront of them. Feyd cuts into the fish and brings a piece to his mouth. He enjoys the texture and the soft flavor he has never had fish before.

The Emperor gets straight to the topic at hand seeing Feyd is swift and precise at cutting through conversations.

“It has come to light that the atrocities committed on Caladan that wiped out the Atreides were premeditated .” He sighs.

“You mean the affairs of my uncle?” Feyd questions with his hands clasped already distancing himself from collusion.

“Yes unfortunately so, as you are aware it was ordered by my hand and now I will be tried in front of a tribunal of the great houses…..” the Emperor puts down his fork and looks into Feyds eyes.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my reign has come to an end, my sins have caught up with me. What I have done I chose to do. Every sacrifice I made led me to the path which I was foretold would benefit mankind. Do you understand the weight of such a decision?” the Emperor implores.

“Do I understand the weight of ordering a genocide to suppress the power of a competent rival ?“ Feyd asks throwing the Emperor’s sins directly back in his face.

“Yes …yes that is why you have been summoned you will be as I am, you will have what I have in leadership. The decisions I made were all guided by the Bene Gessirit. Have you met the Reverend mother yet?” The emperor asks with piqued curiosity

“I have not“ Feyd admits. The Emperor thinks on his answer. “If you have come this far without meeting her, then she already controls you” the Emperor says with a warning glare that falters Feyds confidence. The old man says it with such a depth of sincerity it cannot be false.

“What exactly does the Reverend Mother want” Feyd asks with a newfound curiosity.

“What they all want power and control. One will replace the other but they all twist fate to their benefit to create the ultimate being. A human able to see past present and future. Even the highest Bene Gesserit, the Reverend Mother can only see the past.

Baron have you known you carry the superior bloodline? Your Baroness is in fact a Bene Gesserit as are the multitude of women who infiltrated your family for centuries to breed…do you understand that this is why they want your child?

Feyd sits back in shock he cares not of what the Bene Gesserit want. “What will happen to my child?” Feyd asks leaning back in fully invested with his only concern.

The Emperor thinks it over before coming to his conclusion. He leans in closer to Feyd as he speaks. “Baron what I tell you can not be interfered with. They have ways to make men do unspeakable things if you turn against them. Before I knew you had an attachment I would have willingly told you, now that I know you love the mother and child… Baron I must be honest, with your traumatic family history I fear for your mental sanity when I share the news.”

Feyd takes a deep breath and asks resolutely

“What will happen to my child”

The Emperor looks to the sky and then stressfully relents

“If your infant is female she will be taken from her mother at birth indoctrinated in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. She will be completely ignorant of her parentage and will be raised in complete secrecy. Ultimately she will become ..a bedding concubine … a pleasure slave for the male who will impregnate her with a son to secure the bloodline. The Bene Gesserit breed only to have females. This would make your grandson the rarest male Bene Gesserit of all, the Kswis Haderach that has been awaited for centuries”

Feyds breathing increases wondering if you know they will take the newborn at birth and if his uncle designed every detail of this plan with the Bene Gessirit. He remembers his uncle never thought he would be invested in marriage and wanted you sent away during your pregnancy. His heart pounds rapidly at the complications now.

“You say the Bene Gessirit favor the birth of females what if my unborn is male?”he asks. The Emperor thinks back before he responds.

“There was such an instance directly linked to you Baron Feyd Rautha. Your compatible mate was to be born in the House Atreides.You would have fathered the Kswish Haderisck you were meant to have a son.”

Feyd is shocked by the admission and listens to the Emperor further.

“Lady Jessica defied the order and birthed a boy named Paul with Duke Leto Atreides making your union incompatible. This is the center of it all the Bene Gesserit will have to wait another generation for your daughter to birth the Kswis Haderach which should have been your son.”

“Now what will happen if my unborn a male?” Feyd requestions.

“He will be an abomination to the Bene Gesserit just as Paul Atreides they will want nothing to do with him” the Emperor reveals.

Feyd sits back in silence realizing his cursed Harkonnen lineage continues. If he has a daughter she will be ignorant of her parentage just as he never knew his father and mother.

The painful memory of Feyds childhood floods his mind entirely. He clutches his head in mental anguish no longer able to contain the agony and stress he’s carried deep inside for so long. He rocks back and forth and squeezes his eyes shut in dispar, his bloodline has already cursed his unborn.

That fateful day on Lankerville when Rabban killed their father Feyd Rautha was there.

Matricide

The ship carrying the Baron with Rabban and Feyd landed on the planet Lankerville.

The Baron remained in the craft with the young Feyd while Rabban went to speak with their father.

Feyd was seven years old, a very quiet and clever boy. Vladimir had Feyd rested upon his lap holding him closely petting him affectionately.

The Baron knew the day would come when he would need to punish his brother Abulurd for renouncing the Harkonnen name and tying to hide away with his sons.

What better way to deliver justice on such a dishonor than to have his brothers sons raised as Harkonnens to return and deliver it.

Years prior he easily tracked down his fleeing brother Abulurd with his Bene Gesserit wife. The Baron generously offered his brother the planet Lankerville to show no ill will.

But soon as Arbulurd arrived on Lankerville with his wife and sons the Baron ordered his Harkonnen guards to clutch baby Feyd out of his mother’s arms and collect the teenaged Rabban.

He took his brothers sons for his crime of renouncing the Harkonnen name.

Their mother screamed at the Baron for interfering with the plans of the Bene Gesserit and how he would pay for his actions. The Baron hated the woman she was the reason his brother fled in the first place, she had poisoned Abulurds mind. He wished to dispatch of her in that instant. But he knew letting her live with the fact her sons, birthed for the Bene Gessirts, weretaken would be a fate worse than death.

The Baron adored Feyd from the instant the guard placed him in his waiting arms.The babies eyes were crystal blue and he smelled of fresh powder. The Baron bonded to him instantly. He snuggled baby Feyd and offered his pinky for the small outstretched hand to hold. A son not of his loins but a Harkonnen he would raise as his own.

He called out to the fourteen year old Rabban who was still struggling against the guards with all of his might.

With his father and mother surrounded by Harkonnen soldiers as he spoke to the young Rabban and held baby Feyd “Your father is a traitor to the Harkonnen name and for his dishonor you will be raised with me to learn your heritage. This is the only reason I spare your parents lives today.” the Baron admits.

Rabban stopped his struggling then to look at his parents. Both of them never favored him and his head hung low as they did not even go against what was happening.

The Baron smiled seeing Rabbans dismay “I will make you a brave warrior Glassu Rabban you will command the respect of hundreds of thousands in my army and perhaps even rule Geidi prime” the Baron offered.

Baby Feyd made a small sound then and the Baron cood at him snuggling him closer. “What is it my little prince” he said petting the softness of Feyd’s crown.

Rabbans voice spoke up “I will go with you and I will do as you ask” he was teary eyed as his parents remained silent. The guards released him and he willingly followed the Baron from his home looking back at his parents who stood with their heads low.

As they entered the space craft he finally heard their cries of agony. “Have you killed them!” Rabban asked stunned “No no for what they have done being alive is a fate far worse than death” The Baron informed Rabban while adoring the sleeping Infant Feyd in his arms.

Seven years later Abulurd began defying the Baron at every instance as the governor of Lankerville.

The correspondence he was using the planets tax money to help the poor was the final act of disobedience that brought swift action. The Baron announced he would be arriving personally on Lankerville to punish his brother.

Abulurd had been waiting for this instance. He was not helping the poor with the tax money but instead had purchased a small army to kill his brother for taking his sons in an attempt to rescue them back.

When the Baron landed on the planet their crafts were heavily ambushed. The Baron had brought double his armada already sensing it was a trap his craft was quickly protected.

Rabbans anger was at its peak looking at the Baron who sat in his chair waiting for the lasgun fire to cease. “How dare he defy you! “ Rabban yelled hearing the beams blast the hull of the craft. Rabban growled as he paced waiting for the doors to unload to take his father’s life as the Baron requested.

Feyd sat calmly on the Barons lap watching his brother and six guards charge out of the craft once the gunfire had ceased.

A solider reported to the raging Rabban that the two traitors they were asked to detain were bound inside. The rest of the rebels had been slain. Rabban charged into the governors mansion.

“You are a traitor to the Harkonnen name “

Rabban had yelled as he punched his kneeling and bound father knocking him to the ground in the throne room.

His mother wailed seeing Rabban had become what she always feared, an impulsive raging monster “where is Feyd Rautha let me see my son”she begged.

Rabban ignored her and as his father tried to explain why he defied the Baron Rabban cut him short and strangled his father to death.

When his mother saw her husband killed at the hands of their own son who was trying to save him she couldn’t bear reality anymore and went insane. She bolted trying to escape the throne room but was quickly caught and brought back by on of the Harkonnen warriors that surrounded her.

“Do you want to see your favorite son?” Rabban asked taunting her knowing what the Baron had in store for his most hated Bene Gesserit. ”Gag her.” he ordered before she could speak and the guards bound her mouth shut having her kneel again.

As the screams of his mother grew louder from the mansion Feyd climbed from his uncle lap to see the commotion. “This is what happens to traitors of the Harkonnen name who dishonor their ancestors the very blood that runs through your veins Feyd Rautha.” He told the boy as he took his hand to bring him into the mansion throne room.

Feyd did not recognize his own mother bound with her mouth gagged and kneeling on the ground. She gasped when she saw him and struggled to speak with her mouth obstructed.

The Baron handed the boy his favorite new blade. Feyd approached the woman yanking her head back by the hair. She was calm and did not scream or fight like the others, she willingly gave herself to him staring into his eyes as he slit the blade across her throat.

“Feyd that was our mother” Rabbans voice announced as he stood over the body of their father watching the lives they knew be severed forever.

The Baron quickly tried to pull Feyd away but the boy broke from the Barons grasp and began screaming as he dropped to his knees clutching his mothers dying body.

For the first time Feyd cried. It was so loud and tormenting his brother kneeled by his side and squeezed his frail shoulders not knowing how to calm him.

Rabban began rambling all of the rhetoric engrained in his mind by the Baron “Our mother and father betrayed everything Harkonnen do you realize the sacrilege our father committed. He dishonored our very blood line he tried to steal us from our birthright. Even today he planned an ambush to kill Uncle Vladimir!” Rabban yelled.

Feyd had gone catatonic with his arms clutched around his mother’s neck. Rabban shook him hard yet he did not stir from her body “She never cared for us Feyd let her go. She was Bene Gesserit.... Look at how she tricked our father.” he gestured to the body of the dead man behind him.

But Feyd having been traumatized for the entirety of his young life was mentally gone. After all of his training this is the death that shattered his frail mind.

“Come with me and uncle we have served justice for our ancestors today. We will pray for their forgiveness in the old manner, we can leave this place the traitors are gone brother” Rabban pleaded.

Feyds were black as if his spirit had left from his body. He stared straight ahead motionless as his chin rested on his mother’s head. Rabban rested his hand on his brothers neck to check his pulse, he was alive. Rabban then looked to the Baron

”He has gone into shock.” Rabban said once he realized why his brother could no longer react.

The Baron sneered at Rabban

“I trained him so well for this moment and you had to tell him it was his mother?”

Rabban was confused. “I thought he should know as I know for our Harkonnen honor.” he confessed.

“He would have known in time until then she would have been just another female. Your Impulsive ignorance has always greatly disappointed me Rabban. You have caused a fracture in his core persona that can only be filled with more depravity, or he will be the most sympathetic Harkonnen the planet has ever seen. Carry him to the ship” the Baron commanded and Rabban scooped up Feyds limp body taking him to the craft heading back to Giedi Prime.

Now in the presence of the Emperor Feyd has a full mental break down. His head is clutched in his hands as he breaths wildly feeling unable to replace the air in his lungs. He suffers in pain as his mind flashes through the horrific memory that he wants to make stop. He cries out in agony rocking back and forth in his chair unable to regain his mind as the memory has a visceral response.

The Emperor sees the young man is so tormented from his words that he tries to comfort him “Baron Feyd Rautha I warned you with your family history that I feared for your mental sanity. You were only a boy then how could you have known” the Emperor says with sympathy placing his hand on Feyds shoulder.

Feyd smacks the Emperors hand from his shoulder standing up abruptly from his chair and staring at the old man wildly. Feyd stares at his hands in complete disbelief of who he really is and fears he is going insane he flees the Emperor to find his guards.

He finds them at the entrance of the throne room out of breath as he tries to hold himself together. He is covered in a cold sweat shivering and nauseous as he command them weakly “Take me to my Baroness.”

You hear the short wails of Feyd in the hall before the palace suite doors slam open. The guards bring Feyd holding his arms and guide to sit on the couch. He is in severe mental distress holding back tears unable to speak going catatonic.

You rush to him and immediately press your finger tips to his temple as the guards watch. He clings to you then and you stare into his wild eyes as it takes him several moments to calm down. “What is wrong with him? Was he drugged?” You frighteningly ask his captain of the guard. “No Baroness the Baron was not himself after h met with the Emperor he ordered us to bring him directly to you.” They relay.

Your heart sinks as you tend to him. He endured severe mental anguish for quite some his eyes are now trembling as he looks at you. He can never bring himself to say what he has done. Tears begin falling down his cheeks as he loosens his grasp on your arms your calming energy finally taking effect as he relents into unconsciousness.

In the morning you tend to Feyd on the bed where the guards helped place him. He had severe nightmares throughout the night screaming for his mother. You held him comfortingly and transferred calming energy as you whispered to him that he was safe in your arms.

Now as the day beings and sunlight creeps through the suite you are exhausted.

You ask your servant to arrange a meeting or written correspondence with the Emperor. He is the only one who knows what happened to Feyd during the evening.

When the Emperor denies your request you begin to suspect that Feyd is the son that committed matricide and the Emperor will not betray his confidence.

As you look over Feyds sleeping form you hold his hands. A wave of fear and sadness fills your heart. You you wonder how he did it and why.

Your servant knocks again and hands you a second letter that arrived just after the Emperors. It is from your Reverend Mother requesting an urgent meeting within the hour at the atrium of the main palace garden.

You have your servants help you to get dressed for your meeting with her. You transfer more calming energy to Feyds mind as he rests in bed and whisper in his ear that you will come back. You plant a soft kiss to his forehead as you leave him.

Reverend Mother

The palatial gardens are beautiful as the morning light streaks through the trees. Butterflies guide your path as you walk to the location the reverend mother requested. You are trailed by your Doulah and three assassins. Due to her order that you meet in complete privacy you have them wait just out of earshot.

You walk to the garden atrium where you see the Reverend Mother seated in a stone chair with the one across from her open. She gestures you to sit.

She is covered head to toe in black her face hidden behind a beaded veil. She wears the traditional Bene Gesserit headpiece adding to her stature.

These are the same the gardens you used to frolic in as you trained for the order when your loyalties were at the strongest for the Bene Gesserits.

The Reverend Mother looks at you now covered head to toe in black elaborate shimmering fabrics. Your face covered in a sheer veil unable to hide your stunning beauty beneath. The skin on your hands are a paler shade from the toxic conditions on Geidi prime and gold rings cover every finger.

“You are not the innocent I thought would be defiled. You have transformed the defiled into his highest potential.” She finally speaks as you sit across from her.

“Your husband has become quite powerful, as you are aware. His genetics were bred for centuries to create such an excellent specimen, as is his child in your womb.” She gestures at your full pregnancy knowing the time is near.

“Feyd Rautha has changed the course of his destiny, there are very few who can have alternate timelines such as this. With your child we will soon know with precision the outcome of every single shift in time .”

She pauses her words knowing her next piece of information is vital.

“Feyd will be Emperor.”

She proclaims

You let out a sigh of relief. His life ambition will be fulfilled.

“Do your loyalties lie with the Bene Gesserit?“ she asks you with intent shocking you as you try to answer correctly.

“Yes Revered Mother.” You answer quickly

“Then I tell you this in the upmost confidentiality. The Emperor will be dethroned in seven days at the tribunal of the great houses for his war crimes. He will be exiled to Salusa Secundus.

With Feyd Rautha to be Emperor you are now his right hand you will be our direct link to him. Will you follow every command of the order?” She asks directly.

“Yes Revered Mother” you rush to say in agreement.

Your answer sounds uncertain to her ears so she begins to test your loyalty further.

“When you are asked to evoke the Pranu Bindu and paralyze him will you say the word?” She says studying your body for any hint of description.

You squint your eyes to prevent them from showing your fear. “Yes Reverend Mother” you lie.

She has a skill to read description and knows you have lost your loyalty. She realizes Feyd Rautha must have fractured your mind with coercions of his own.

She tests a theory

”When you are pregnant with the second child of Feyd Rautha will you sacrifice it to ensure the success of your first.

The question makes you grip the chair

“Yes revered mother” you quickly lie. Feeling a lump form in your throat.

She looks closer through your veil.

“Your eyes well with tears.” She says poignantly.

You have an emotional outburst due to the stress of the situation “I will serve and continue to serve the order to the best of my ability Reverend Mother” you recite the call to the order but it is too late

She uses the voice on you for the final test if your loyalty.

{{Will you kill Feyd Rautha when ordered}}

You feel your head tighten as you answer with pure truth “No revered mother” She releases you from the voice dissapointed.

You take a deep breath and she sees the sadness in your eyes realizing you have fallen in love with him. Her eyes convey her strong disapproval.

The Revered Mother has gathered enough information from your sisters and throughout your pregnancy to know Feyd Rautha will flee and hide you away with his heir just as his mother and father tried to do for him and just as your mother and father tried to do for you.

You will be repeating the cycle of insanity that brought the downfall of both of your family’s and she can not allow that.

Your parents had renounced the royal status of their great house and collected their assets and gold from the treasury fleeing to another planet one month before you were born.

When the Order found you hidden away you were well past the age to be taken, you knew your parents and had formed your own identity.

As they trained you your rebellion was rampant wanting only to be with your mother and father. Your mental and physical abilities were far underdeveloped from the others until adolescence when your gift to control your bodies sexual abilities advanced to a level beyond your training. You could control every cell of your body to induce ovulation, you were unmatched.

In your youth however you were a problem child until the fateful day you were given the news your parents had been poisoned and you would never see them again. From that day forth you had been the most obedient of all.

The Revered Mother stands and leaves your presence to make arrangements to have you taken after the birth of your newborn which she knows will occur on Kaitan.

She can not risk a disruption to secure the bloodline of the Kswis Haderach. She plans to bring you back to the sisterhood and have you indoctrinated to control Feyd and have your newborn to be raised as a Bene Gesserit.

When you are certain she has gone you weep uncontrollably. You are shaken to your core at her words of killing Feyd Rautha and sacrificing your second child.

Once you collect your self. You reach the entrance of the garden and are escorted back to the Palace with your three assassins and your Doulah.

You clutch her arm and hold your womb with care because as you walk you continue to feel sharp pinches of pain in your core which you try to ignore.

Harkonnen Heir

When you reach the palace suite Feyd is dressed and sitting in a chair at the out door awning viewing the lake. The surface shimmers brightly due to the hour and the dancing reflections distract his weakened mind. When your arms slip around his neck he relaxes into you holding your forearm. He tilts his head up to gaze into your eyes and he smiles.

He feels complete now that your have returned to him and stands to hold you. He removes your veil and pulls you close planting a kiss on your forehead and holding you to his chest for a length of time centering himself.

“I thought youd been taken from me” he admits breaking the silence. “Never” you say smiling up at him. “Where did you go?” He asks gently. “I met with the Reverend Mother in the garden.” you confess and his heart sinks as remembers the words of the Emperor. “She will take our unborn and I can not allow that” he confesses.

“She will not.“ You say with confidence. Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in your core and cling to Feyd. You cry out as it intensifies and he helps you to the floor cradling you in his lap as the pain radiates stronger.

You feel the ache travel to your abdomen and you clutch your womb as you wail. The pain is agonizing and Feyd grabs ahold of your hands trying to calm you. He alerts the stunned guard who rushes in to to get your Doulah.

You look into Feyds eyes ”the unborn” you gasp out. “yes our child is arriving soon” he says with a smile to comfort you as he caresses your jaw. He quickly thinks of a way to protect his newborn from being taken.

You arrive in the brightly lit birthing chamber of the Emperial palace. It is a circular room with a large dome roof. Light shines down from a skylight in the dome with windows spaced every few inches apart to allow in the most light. There is only one entrance which is heavily guarded by Feyd soldiers.

You are moved from the transport bed to the birthing bed and propped with pillows to sit upright with your legs apart by the medical assistants. Feyd never releases your hand and remains by your side. Your practiced breathes fill the room doing just as your Doulah trained you.

As your contractions continue to worsen Feyd looks over your body in concern before finally gazing into your eyes. You have never witnessed his striking blue eyes exhibiting such fear before. You want to comfort him but you are in too much pain.

The midwife enters the room clad in the finest fabrics of Kaitan wearing masks with her healers. She conducts her inspection guiding her team with calming authority. Her assistants cut your gown from your body and covering you in a white sheet.

Seeing you are ready she gestures you to push and as you do the pain intensifies. After several pushes the air in the birthing chamber becomes thick with tension there is a complication.

The midwife requests to speak with Feyd separately in the crowded room and he momentarily leaves your side.

“Baron Feyd Rautha her labor is too intense the unborn will not stir” she conveys. Feyd for the first time feels pin pricks of fear all over his body “What can be done” he asks with urgency “We will be able to save both but we must have your permission to ….cut the flesh of the Baroness” she discerns. Feyd is relieved he finds it only fitting a Harkonnen should be cut out as if in combat. He readily agrees.

The palace healers comfort you as the and turn you on your side. They numb the skin of your back and gently place a needle in your spine to dull the lower half of your body from pain and movement.

When they remove the needle and gently lay you back on your pillows you are dizzy and high unable to feel your lower half. There is no more pain and Feyd holds your hand again. He looks down at you and smiles seeing your face is so calm.

“They will cut the unborn out” he says squeezing your hand tighter. You nod feeling the intense high in your body making you feel as if you are floating as you stare at him “Did you give them one of your blades to cut the unborn out.” you ask drugged and he smiles as he shakes his head no and pets back your hair.

The room is stagnant as the midwife applies more injections to the site she will cut. She pricks your belly hard with the knife drawing blood when you do not feel it she continues her incision.

Feyd’s breathing intensifies and his eyes widen in bewilderment as he watches her cut you open. The assistants place their hands on your belly once the incision is made and begin to push the unborn out.

The midwife easily collects the baby and due to its distress quickly cuts the umbilical cord and hands it to a healer.

Feyd sees the motionless grayish blue baby and his heart drops. When he doesn’t hear the cries he grips your hand even tighter in dispair. The healer begins to pat the baby’s back and shift it to clear its lungs as the midwife works to sew you shut.

Finally the cries of the newborn loudly fill the chamber and he sees the baby turn a pink color. Feyd releases the breath he didn’t know he had been holding as his heart swells with emotion.

The healer quickly cleans and wraps the newborn in a black gossamer blanket and places the baby into Feyd’s waiting arms. His eyes widen in awe as he looks at his new baby for the first time.

The infant is magnificent the nose the lips the soft cheeks, he has never seen anything so perfect.

"Our newborn” he whispers looking at the beautiful face feeling the happiness wash over him. He knows you must see right away too and places the baby in your arms but he never removes his hand. You feel the soft head lay on your skin and a wave of love and protectiveness washes over you.

As soon as the newborn feels your skin it reaches its tiny hand out of its bundle. Feyd places his pinky in the newborns grip as it opens its crystal blue eyes. You both let out a gasp at how well the color matches Feyds. The baby stares at you with an intense gaze. “He carries the blood of House Harkonnen." Feyd smiles seeing the resemblance in his son.

"What will you name him?" You ask gazing at the handsomeness of the Harkonnen heir. Feyd waits for the idea to form in his mind momentarily stunted by the enormity of the decision.

“I want him to carry a formidable name that honors mine and begins a new chapter for our lineage.” He confirms placing his hand around the babys soft head holding it lightly

He looks to you as he names your son “Rautha -Dimitri Harkonnen” he declares. It is the name of his maternal grandfather Rautha and his paternal grandfather Dimitri combined. Feyd feels it carries the essence of strength and change befitting of the future ruler.

You tuck your finger under baby Rauthas chin “A worthy name for your son” you smile as Feyd looks to you in agreement.

The news has already spread througout the palace. The reverend mother is dismayed that a second Bene Gesserit has defied the birthing order to have a male. With the Harkonnen genetics in tact she will now search for a compatible female to create the Kswis Haderach.

You knew on that fateful night as you held Feyd sleeping in your arms you wanted to finally escape the Bene Gesserits. You felt they had poisoned your parents all along to keep you and you never forgave them.

You realized having a son would guarantee the safety of your child and to be a Baroness meant your son would one day rule as Baron. All you had to do was keep Feyd pleased.

When you bound him with the Pranu Bindu you chose a word from a pleasant memory in your childhood. One only you would know, and If necessary under dire circumstances would give to the Bene Gessirits.

When Feyds cruelty softened to care on your wedding night you inherently knew he yearned to be nurtured. You strived to care for him and heal his broken psyche ultimately falling in love with him.

Now as the two of you rest together holding your infant you created that night you are overcome with a sense of love and serenity. Feyd presses a kiss to your forehead

"You've given me everything I dreamed of and more" he says marveling at his son’s tiny hand which holds his thumb. You look to Feyd in adoration “You have given me a life I never thought possible. I cherish every moment I have with you Feyd ” you admit caressing his hand which the baby holds.

Baby Rautha slowly drifts to sleep in your arms as you both dote over him “Let me hold him again “ Feyd says with his voice full of compassion.

He slides his hands around baby Rautha and cradles him in his arms. Feyds eyes shine with love as he watches the infant yawn. He presses his face against babies cheek inhaling his sent of sweet milk. You look over at the two of them and smile.

"I love you" Feyd whispers as his eyes briefly look over to yours, his voice is barely audible as he says the words for the first time.

"I love you too, Feyd.“ you finally tell him as your heart overflows with love.

He returns baby Rautha to your arms pressing a kiss to the sleeping infants hand.

Then he stares at your eyes and smiles. He holds your jaw and plants soft kisses on your forehead and on your cheeks finally resting his kiss on your lips.

He leans back and gazes into your eyes with deep devotion as he caresses your jaw. He realizes the three words do not come close to expressing how he truly feels for you but he will say them again and again to express what he can not convey. He is eternally grateful that you are his wife and the mother of his child. He will cherish you for eternity.

War Crimes

After five days of constant care you are strong enough to walk and carry baby Rautha around your palace suite. Your Doulah is nearby remaking the babies cot with fresh gossamer linens, you go to sit on the patio in a newly placed soft arm chair to gaze out at the lake resting baby Rautha in your arms. It is the first morning you have woken up without Feyd.

Before you would open your eyes each day Feyd was already up sitting in the rocking chair with Rautha telling him stories or softly humming Harkonnen war songs to him with his raspy voice.

He preferred you sleep and regain your strength and would dote on the baby at all hours of the night. Anything he couldn’t handle or had yet to learn be would retrieve the Doulah and climb back into bed with you.

He surpassed your skill when it came to swaddle or burp the baby. His technique was flawless as he wrapped baby Rautha into a perfect bundle in the gossamer cloths each time.

After feeding was the only time baby Rautha would make sounds of discomfort. You would try several methods to make him burp before Feyd would signal you to hand him over.

He placed a cloth on his shoulder and picked up baby Rautha gently resting him against his chest. He would pace the room rubbing his small back until the air trapped escaped from his tiny mouth.

He enjoyed fatherhood and as you watched him walk around shirtless holding Rautha it set you at ease. Being a father suited him well and you enjoyed how comfortable he was with his first baby, it made you yearn to fulfill his desire and give him more.

The only reason Feyd was not with you caring for Rautha on this morning is because he was summoned for a meeting with the Emperor.

Feyd sat in the elaborate Emperial office awaiting Emperor Shaddam. He looked around at all of the decorations of conquests for current ruler Shaddam Corrino the IV.

There are books up the walls in shelves as high as the ceiling. A large globe and a telescope are placed near the windows with a view of the palatial waterfalls. Hundreds of trophy’s and relics decorate display cases and pedestals around the room. The planet has been ruled for decades by one man and the magnitude of accumulated objects in his office reflect his reign.

Feyd hears the doors open to the office and stands as Emperor Shaddam enters holding the arm of his daughter Princess Irulans arm for balance.

He gestures Feyd to sit as he is ushered around his desk. He is helped to sit in his gilded chair by Princess Irulan. She kisses her fathers cheek then look up to Feyd “Congratulations on the birth of your son Baron Feyd Rautha “ she says pleasantly with a smile.

Feyd nods in acknowledgement and the Emperor kindly pats her hand “ Thank you my dear that will be all “he says. She smiles at her father and then to Feyd before gracefully leaving the room and shutting the doors.

“How are you feeling “ the Emperor asks with a light smile seeing the tiredness in Feyd’s eyes. “ I am well” Feyd responds briskly “ and the Baroness?” The Emperor implores more. “She is fine” Feyd answers feeling a joy in his heart at your acceptance. “And last but not leastthe excitement of the palace Rautha Dimitri Harkonen!” He says happily clasping his hands together with a jubilant smile. Finally Feyd smirks beaming with pride. “ he is my honor and heir” Feyd remarks fondly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you from them during such a precious time so I will get straight to the point” the Emperors smile fades as he opens his desk drawer retrieving a metal inscribed cylinder. He places it on the desk in front of Feyd.

“I received this on the day your son was born as if it was destiny. Even though I knew the say would come I could not bear to read the words and dropped it to the ground in front of of my daughter and my advisors in the garden. Princess Irulan retrieved it and was also in shock seeing the words” the Emperor relays.

Feyd picks up the metallic cylinder reading the first line

-The Tribunal for War Crimes of Emperor Shaddam Corino IV- stand out with the biggest lettering. Feyd sets the cylinder back down.

“The day after tomorrow I will be tried and convicted. The amount of evidence is substantial and kept so meticulously by your uncle. Most of the correspondences come from his personal office which must’ve been near impossible to retrieve for a spy.” Feyd clasps his hands and presses his fingers to his lips hiding the smile of his cleverness.

“With my final Emperial decree I wish you make you Emperor Feyd Rautha. I am old and frail and my daughter was unable to join with a compatible house.

The great houses all respect you and your generosity they will have no problem with this change. With the improvements you have made on Giedi Prime and Arrakis my people will have no resentment either.”

The Emperor then looks Feyd in the eyes with severity. “Will you allow me to officiate the coronation in two days time and hand over my Empire to you in a small ceremony before I am dethroned . It would give me great honor and restore the dignity I have lost in my old age during my reign.”

Feyd rests back in his chair and thinks on it before speaking “What does the ceremony entail?”

The emperor reaches in to his desk with a prepared list and summarizes its contents

“In the throne room you and your wife will be seated in front of the entirety of the Emperial court in a private ceremony. I will kneel to you and relinquish my power .”

He explains as her places the paper on Feyd side to study further.

As Feyd looks over the list the Emperor makes a request.

“When I relinquish my power to you I would ask of you two things;

First take care for my daughter Irulan and ensure she is safe. I will be exiled to Salusa Secundus and she may choose to join me there but her life here will be far better as a princess of Kaitan.

Secondly please show me leniency I will never plot to diminish your reign in any way.” He relents.

The Emperor slowly stands to see if Feyd will make the agreement final. Feyd stands with the Emperor and bows honoring his wishes. The Emperor weakly smiles understanding the gravity of his current situation and dismisses Feyd to return to his new family. He believes Feyd will make a fine Emperor in his stead.

Feyd finds you on the suite patio and quietly watches as you nurse his son. You look so serene and natural to him your eyes sparkling with joy as you coo at his infant latched and drinking milk.

Feyd's feels a wave of emotions watching the tender moment between the two of you. He steps out onto the patio making his presence known and comes to kneels down in front of you watching as you continue to nurse baby Rautha. "You're such a good mother," he says with his voice soft and filled with admiration. He trails his finger on Rauthas soft cheek watching him drink.

You look up at Feyd as a warm smile spreads across your lips. “ We missed you here this morning” you tell him lovingly.

“ I missed both you you as well” He admits as his heart swells with the feeling of being loved. He had never imagined he could live like this and marvels at how far you two have come together.

Baby Rautha finishes nursing and unlatches his small mouth. You tuck your breast away and snuggle him closer. He begins to wiggle and his face pinks slightly as he makes a small sound of discomfort.

“Let me have him” Feyd says knowing what he needs. You hand him over and Feyd stands swaying with the infant in his arms. The baby squirms feeling uncomfortable from the trapped air until Feyd pats it free.

The baby spittles on Feyd’s shoulder making you laugh. “Oh Feyd I forgot to hand you the cloth!” You say giving it to him late. ”It’s fine” Feyd says with a smile looking over at baby Rauthas chin wet with escaped milk.

He gently switches the baby to his left shoulder and dabs his chin clean. Then drapes the cloth over his right shoulder and replaces Rautha there

“How was your meeting with the Emperor” you ask already having an idea of what was discussed but wanting to hear the answer from his lips.

Feyd sits in the chair next to you on the patio and holds the sleeping infant Rautha to gaze at the beautiful baby in his lap.

“It is as you wished I will be Emperor. I will rule all of the great houses and control the two greatest armies in the galaxy. We will be free to do as we wish.” He looks over at you and smiles.

You smile in return as the reality sets in and you look out over the lake . You will own the entire palace. You sink back in your chair stunned, your son will be the future emperor now and Feyd made it all possible.

“I am eternally grateful for what you have done Feyd” you admit in astonishment. “In two days time we will be coronated here by Empeor Shaddam.” He says now staring out at the lake realizing the impact of his actions. You stand from your chair to be infront of him and place your hands on his armrests. You lean in and kiss his lips seeing how lost in thought he is. “ Emperor Feyd Rautha” you say seductively making him smile.

Emperor Feyd Rautha

You all awaken in the early morning as the sun rises and are helped by several servants to dress. It is Feyds coronation day as Emperor.

Feyd forgoes the traditional Kaitan white tunic and wears a velvet black high neck long sleeved one instead. It is lined with black Harkonenn gemstones.

You wear a black corseted grown with golden appliqués covering your neck and shoulders as well as your cuffs and hem. Baby Rautha wears a black baby tunic matching to his father’s and is wrapped in a shimmering gold swaddle.

The procession is led by Emperor Shaddam wearing a silver tunic. He enters the throne room first carrying a golden scepter. The three of you follow him inside to see the room is filled with dignitaries and leaders of the great houses as well as the imperial court. Every golden seat is filled on either side of the white and gold precession rug leading to the thrones.

You clutch Feyds arm tighter and hold the baby closer as your nerves rise. Rautha sleeps bundled peacefully in your arms.

The thrones on the raised ruling platform are surrounded by pillars of palatial garden flowers. Two orchestras are seated at the ground level of either side and wait on queue to play.

The emperor carefully climbs the golden steps leading to his sacred ruling space for the final time.

The stairs are lined with garden florals in a beautiful display. He stands at his ruling space smiling and gestures Feyd permission to enter as the new ruler. Feyd takes your hand from around his arm and helps you climb the stairs.

The room is silent as you both stand infront of the Emperor and bow. Shaddam slowly bows to Feyd unable to kneel as customary due to his age. A round of applause begins from the rows of guests in attendance as they witness the exchange of power. The sound awakens baby Rautha as the next part of the procession begins.

Count Fenring bows at the base of the stairs and is permitted to bring a pillow with the golden Emperial signet ring. He carries it up and bows to Feyd again before standing next to Emperor Shaddam.

The Emperor takes the ring and holds the weight of it for the last time. Feyd slips his silver Barons ring from his pinky and instead of placing it on the ceremonial pillow he turns to baby Rautha placing the ring in his infants reaching hand “Hold this for Uncle Rabban” he says sweetly as the baby grasps it.

He then turns and accepts the ring from Shaddam which has already been fitted for his pinky.

Shaddam then lifts his golden scepter placing it across his hands and bows his head offering it to Feyd who accepts.

Rounds of applause begin to fill the room as everyone stands in jubilation for the momentous occasion. The orchestra begins to play a rousing classical Kaitan melody.

You and Feyd take your thrones as Emperor and Empress with your son Prince Rautha.

Shaddam Corino is helped down the stairs by Count Fenring they both turn and bow in reverence.

You look over to Feyd smiling, you are so proud of him. He grasps your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles and looks over your beautiful signet ring as Empress. “So be it” he says smiling remembering your conversation as the force which pushed his decision.

He caresses Baby Rauthas soft head and gestures to hold him. You hand over the baby to Feyd and the cheers erupt even louder from the audience that he already has an heir.

This is only the private ceremony for his coronation there will be a banquet following in the evening and within a few weeks time the public parade in celebration of his reign at the capital.

A Holy Shrine

Six moths after Feyd’s momentous coronation on Kaitan you arrive to the planet of LankerVille in the much larger Empirical Space craft. It has every amenity possible with servants throughout.

Feyd has summoned his brother Rabban to join who arrives from Geidi Prime in his palatial ship as the new Baron. Both space crafts land adjacent to the courtyard of the former leaders home.

As you approach the former governors mansion carrying Rautha not a word is uttered as you follow Feyd and Rabban to go inside.

They push open the large red doors and you enter into an enormous abandoned throne room. Everything is bare and gray.

“I want it made into a Holy Shrine” Feyd finally says to Rabban once he explores the vacant room. You and Rabban watch as Feyd walks to the center and kneels on the floor in a certain place.

You look to Rabban in curiosity. “Why does he kneel here?” You ask under your breath unsure if it is a Harkonnen custom. Rabban stares blankly ahead. “ His mother was slain there…our father and mother were killed in this very room“ Rabban corrects himself.

The air is sucked out of your lungs you had no idea. Rabban peers over at you realizing you were never told because Feyd will never tell you. He understands then that he should. But he struggles to find the softening words so he just tells the truth.

“Years ago when he was a boy and I was a young man our uncle ordered us to kill our parents here”

Your eyes widen in shock as you clutch your chest and become dizzy with the devastating information. It takes you several moments to collect yourself. “But…Why?” Is all you can weakly get out.

“Our parents hid us away and changed our last names to Rabban. This was the punishment for betrayal of the Harkonnen lineage” Rabban admits.

You try to calm your breathing as baby Rautha becomes fussy on your hip sensing your distress. Then you realize his grandmother and grandfather were slain in this very room by his father and uncle.

It becomes too much for you to bear and you flee from the throne room heading out into the fresh air of the courtyard. You take deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

Baby Rauthas carer and Feyd’s guards watch as you try to collect your self. Rauthas carer comes and gently collects him from your shaking arms.

“Empress perhaps you should rest I don’t like the looks of your condition“ she says with concern watching the way you blankly stare at the ground shaking. You wave her back “Take Rautha to the ship I will only be a moment.” You command her. The carer takes Rautha to eat and play while you gather yourself.

You shudder realizing this day would come and how little you know of your husband. The fact he would bring your child here shakes you to your core.

His brother was so callous in the way he told you and it makes you realize how cruel the Harkonnens are and that Feyd is the one with the most emotional intellect.

Both men emerge from the mansion. You put on a brave face though your eyes are sad, you feel a rise of pity in your chest as you look at them. You cant even begin to imagine the torment they went through.

Feyd beckons you to come to him and you take his hand as you join his side.

“Rabban will stay for dinner on our craft to spend time with us before he heads back to Geidi Prime” Feyd conveys as he studies your eyes. He sees how sad they are as you gaze into his . You feel a wave of emotion and softly hug him then start sobbing against his neck. He pets down your hair to calm you.

“Empress do not fret I know you are overcome with emotion now but everything will be made right.” He says gently and places his hands to see your tear streaked face. He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Go and prepare for dinner you need to eat” he says gently.

You nod and realize this must be very hard for him and he just wants to enjoy a dinner with his family, perhaps even in honor of his parents.

You quickly wipe your eyes and enter the Emperial space craft. You clean your face in the main suite just in time to join in everyone at the dinner table.

As you enter the dining room Rabban is seated at the foot of the table with little Rautha on his lap. Rabban is smiling and teasing little Rautha speaking gibberish before tickling his stomach. Rautha shrieks of laughter make you smile.

You sit at Feyd right and he takes your hand tracing his thumb across your knuckles “Are you alright now Empress?” He asks with a warm smile, you gently nod.

Dinner is placed in front of everyone. Herb seared filet from the lakes of Lankerville.

Little Rautha is sat upon his careers lap to the left side of his father as she feeds him his first bite of fish.

“Do you like it?” Feyd asks him gleefully and Rautha nods smiling with his gums making Feyd chuckle.

“And you Rabban?” Feyd yells down the table. Rabban lifts his fork still chewing . “It is good“ he says once his mouth is free.

Rabban looks at your plate seeing it is all vegetables and laughs. “ What the Empress does not like it?” He teases and you smile.

“Ask her how many children she plans to have” Feyd says grinning.

Rabban drops his fork to the table. “ NO! It is not possible brother !” He exclaims.

Rabban stands up and charges to Feyds side of the table making Feyd get up block him playfully “Don’t you dare touch her!” Feyd says pushing him back. Rabban laughs maniacally “I wouldn’t dare touch your female especially with your unborn.” Rabban confirms.

He looks to your abdomen as Feyd helps you stand. Rabban bows his head in reverence “congratulations Empress“ he says and is too stunned to say anything else just staring at your abdomen in disbelief.

You speak up breaking the silence “Thank you Rabban now please eat and enjoy this lovely dinner.” you say kindly. He smiles to you and then Feyd returning to his seat happily shaking his head at how quickly his brother already has you pregnant again with a second unborn. You all eat together with jovial conversation for the entirety of the meal.

After Rabban leaves your ship the Emperial craft ascends from the planet of Lankerville heading back to Kaitan.

You stand over the crib of sleeping Rautha and caress his soft cheek before pulling his blanket higher on his chest, there is a chill in the craft as it heads through space and you want him to be warm. “Will you fetch him a gossamer blanket” you ask his carer and she readily nods preparing to watch over him through the night in his room.

You head back to the main chamber and place your hand in the reader to open the doors. It is darkened but an enormous window illuminates the large room with starlight.

Feyd stands looking out of it with his hands clasped behind his back. When he hears the doors he knows you are there and looks over his shoulder offering his hand to you.

He is shirtless even though the craft is so cold. You take his hand and he places you infront of him to gaze at the stars together.

“I’ve asked the controller to slow the ship so we can see the stars for an hour before we go to trans light speed” he says against your ear as he holds you closely to him. “They are beautiful” you say already mesmerized by the billions of flickering lights.

He pulls your hair over your shoulder planting a kiss there “Emperor and Empress” he says placing another kiss your neck “wealthiest family in the galaxy” he says pulling you closer against him. “What would you like to do next” he asks smiling against your ear.

You turn over your shoulder to look into his eyes as you answer “Raise our children on Kaitan” you confirm with a loving gaze. “So be it “ he says planting a soft kiss on your lips. “And what about for the next hour?” He asks seductively as he grins with a knowing smile.

The End

Thank you for completing the series! Here is my Upcoming Fics List if you enjoy my writing and the Feyd Fantasy Series Masterlist to read all over again

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It’s a Metaphor: This is How You Lose the Time War

I just finished This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Mix Red and Blue together and what you get is a novella painted entirely through with purple prose.

Time travel is a trope that used to evoke a sense of action-adventure in science fiction. Think Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure or Back to the Future. But after the meteoritic rise of The Time Traveler’s Wife, the genre became one that was less driven by science and more by magic touched with romance.

Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone’s This is How You Lose the Time War swings hard to the latter. The story follows two competing organizational bodies known as The Agency and Garden. Each has access to the power of time travel, and their goal is to send agents through the multiverse’s various time streams--known as “strands”--to bend events to their respective desired outcomes.

Two of their best--The Agency’s agent “Red” and Garden’s agent “Blue”--cross paths throughout the strands while on competing missions. Until one day...or does it really start then? Red finds a piece of paper marked: “Burn before reading.” It’s a letter from Blue herself, and it kickstarts a romance that transcends the limits of space and time conducted almost entirely through letter.

Let’s cut to the drawbacks first: What are The Agency and Garden? How did they figure out time travel? Why are they so determined to wage war against each other to manipulate history? To what purpose does either manipulate history? We don’t know. We never really get to know much about any of these players or how they work. It becomes clear really quickly that the whole book is a slew of evocative imagery powered by overarching metaphor. The Agency appears to represent a cold, techno-driven vision of society (think The Matrix) and Garden appears to represent a more “natural” return-to-the-land type of world. The idea of time being represented either by the march of progress or by the endurance of the world as human ages pass it by is nothing new. So which gains supremacy? Why are they fighting each other? The answers respectively are: ‘neither’ and ‘unclear.’

As it turns out, we’re meant to be less interested in the wider world than we are in the psychological developments of Red and Blue, each of whom are rebels in their respective worlds. Red longs for individualism and Blue hungers for ownership, each of these wishes leave them dissatisfied and threaten the stability of their worlds. Consequently, their correspondence must be conducted in secret--they hardly ever share the page together.

So let’s circle back to what people love about this book. Truthfully, I don’t think there is anything more quintessentially lesbian than about 200 pages of yearning, falling in love by letter, and never co-existing in the same space. And it’s full of romantically poetic lines designed to drive the reader feral. (If I tried to quote all of them, we’d be here all day.) Why waste time trying to understand the convoluted mechanics of the plot when you can soak up the romance of long-distance forbidden love?

So in all, the appeal of Time War to me is that with its pseudo-science, magical realism, pretentious prose, and romance, it becomes the queer answer to Time Traveler’s Wife. Which is great! I enjoyed every minute of it. (But I’ll confess, I’m not sorry that it’s short and sweet.)

So if you’re picking this one up: sit back, relax, and let it wash over you. The only way to really lose the Time War is to try to take it too literally.

#this is how you lose the time war #amal el mohtar #max gladstone #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #lgbt reads #queer lit

[lawlznet]

My favorite essay on the concept of "cyberpunk" is one that examines the question "What *is* Cyberpunk?"

http://web.archive.org/web/20230210083200/https://www.neondystopia.com/what-is-cyberpunk/

It ends up touching on almost every avenue of science fiction, and is inherently political, since cyberpunk is also a fashion aesthetic, a political philosophy, a way of living, a tabletop rpg, a series of video games, and is *always* a dystopic setting.

Generally "Solarpunk" is considered its lighter, more optimistic half- a future set in a world where technology hasn't quite ruined everyone, though as the name implies that's more so self sustainability and avoiding climate destruction.

There's a lot of good quotes in the article from various media which exemplifies the genre, but I've always been fond of the phrase ``High tech, low life.``

A lot of earlier, traditional science fiction prior to cyberpunk's birth in the 1980's was either horrifying or optimistic, maybe even idealistic toward technology. Cyberpunk examines it from a very anticapitalist and cynical lens- “The future is already here — it’s just not very evenly distributed.” (William Gibson, *Neuromancer*)

We have all this technology and its largely in the hands of, and controlled exclusively by, the rich and powerful. And those people have zero interest in letting us use it, because that could potentially endanger their socio-economic supremacy.

The most common way you'll see this in everyday life is in healthcare- when a celebrity is caught with drugs or illegal substances- DUI's and etc, they'll often go to rehabilitation services. It'll be a spectacle of them taking the time to self improve.

Anyone else often only has a lengthy prison sentence and an expensive fine as their only recourse.

For other examples, look up Boston Scientific's dog-like robots (https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/04/nypd-robocops-hulking-400-lb-robots-will-start-patrolling-new-york-city/).

During the height of the covid pandemic, as scientists worked feverishly to create and release a vaccine to a suffering populace, the former US president Donald Trump caught ill- and was immediately injected with a cocktail of experimental, unreleased medications to keep him alive.

https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/trump-receives-experimental-antibody-treatment-covid-19-diagnosis-n1241916

And then there's social media. We're all refugees of Twitter, for reasons that likely don't need retelling for most of you. For anyone else who gets to read this text wall in the future, a certain former billionaire who was the heir of an emerald mine and dabbled in space travel and electric cars sunk much of his fortune into buying one of the largest social media websites on earth, just so that he could fire more than half of it staff, institute subscription services for basic usage, killed all non proprietary development tools that people used the service with, modified the algorithm to increase the viewership and attention on his own personal account, eliminated verification badges from celebrities, politicians, and news organizations who either didn't pay a subscription fee or reported on him in a negative light, and is of this writing grooming an army of yes men who lap up his every word as the site continues to hemmhorage users from sheer unusability.

Leading to a Tower of Babel level exodus of users from the website, to other proprietary social media companies, to defederated mastodon instances, and finally to Bluesky, a Twitter clone literally created by the former CEO of Twitter, Jack Dorsey.

Cyberpunk is here and now.

#vtuber #envtuber #vtuber writer #cyberpunk #dystopia #femboy #spilled ink #I wrote this for a cyberpunk channel in a vtuber writers discord server #thought i'd share

[fatehbaz]

Imagining futures; escaping hell; controlling time; living in better worlds.

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

What we see happening in Ferguson and other cities is not the creation of liveable spaces, but the creation of living hells. When a person is trapped in a cycle of debt, it also can affect their subjectivity and temporal orientation to the world by making it difficult for them to imagine and plan for the future. What psychic toll does this have on residents? How does it feel to be routinely degraded and exploited [...]? [M]unicipalities [...] make it impossible for residents to actually feel at home in the place where they live, walk, work, love, and chill. In this sense, policing is not about crime control or public safety, but about the regulation of people’s lives -- their movements and modes of being in the world.

[Source: Jackie Wang. Carceral Capitalism. 2018.]

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

Pacific texts do not only destabilize inadequate presents. They also transfigure the past by participating in widespread strategies of contesting linear and teleological Western time, whether through Indigenous ontologies of cyclical temporality or postcolonial inhabitations of heterogenous time. [...] Pacific temporality [can be] a layering of oral and somatic memory in which both present injustices and a longue duree of pasts-cum-impossible futures still adhere. In doing so, [jetnil-Kijiner’s book] Iep Jaltok does not defer an apocalyptic future. Instead it asserts the possibility, indeed the past guarantee, of Pacific worlds in spite of Western temporal closures. [...] In the context of US settler colonialism, Jessica Hurley has noted “the ongoing power of a white-defined realism to distinguish possible from impossible actions” [...]. In other words, certain aspects of Indigenous life under settler colonialism fall under the purview of what colonizing powers define as the (im)possible. [...] Greg Fry, writing of Australian representations of the Pacific in the 1990s, notes that the Pacific was regarded as facing “an approaching ‘doomsday’ or ‘nightmare’ unless Pacific Islanders remake themselves”. From the center-periphery model [...], only a Malthusian “future nightmare [...]” for Pacific islands seemed possible. [...] Bikini Island, where the first of 67 US nuclear tests took place from 1946 to 1958, was chosen largely because of its remoteness [...]; nuclear, economic, and demographic priorities thus rendered islanders’ lives “ungrievable” [...]. The [...] sentiment was perhaps most famously demonstrated in H*nry Kissing*r’s dismissal of the Pacific: “There are only 90,000 people out there. Who gives a damn?” [...] Such narratives were supposed to proclaim and herald the end of Pacific futures. Instead [...] Pacific extinction narratives [written by Indigenous/Islander authors] conversely testify to something like the real resilience of islanders in the face of a largely deleterious history of Euro-American encounters. More radically, they suggest the impossibility of an impossible future. Apocalypse as precedent overturns the very world-ending convention of the genre. By turning extinction into antecedent, [...] [they aspire] toward an unknown future not tied to an apocalyptic ending.

[Source: Rebecca Oh. “Making Time: Pacific Futures in Kiribati’s Migration with Dignity, Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner’s Iep Jaltok, and Keri Hume’s Stonefish.” MFS Modern Fiction Studies. Winter 2020.]

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

With the machinery finally installed on the property of the Manuelita estate, Don Santiago Eder launched the first industrial production of refined white sugar in Colombia on the “first day of the first month of the first year of the twentieth century.” Such deeds, mythologized and heroic in their retelling, earned Santiago Eder respect as “the founder” and his sons as “pioneers” in the industrialization of provincial Colombia. Their enterprise [...] remained the country’s largest sugar operation for much of the twentieth century. In 1967, [...] E.P. Thompson described the evolution and internalization of disciplined concepts of time as intimately tied to the rise of wage labor in industrializing England. His famous treatise on time serves as a reminder that the rise of industrial agriculture affected a reorganization of cultural and social conceptions of time. [...]. The global ascendancy of the Manuelita model of work contracts and monoculture in the second half of the twentieth century underscores the acceleration of the Plantationocene, but the historical presence and persistence of alternative [...] time should serve as a reminder that [...] futures and the demarcation of epochs are never as simple as a neatly organized calendar.

[Source: Timothy Lorek. “Keeping Time with Colombian Plantation Calendars.” Edge Effects. April 2020.]

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

For several weeks after midsummer arrives along the lower Kuskokwim River, even as the days begin to shorten, the long, boreal light of dusk makes for a brief night. People travel by boat [...]. When I asked an elder about the proper way to act toward Chinook salmon, he instructed me: “Murikelluku.” The Yup’ik word murilke- means not only “to watch” but also “to be attentive” [...]. Nearly fifty years ago, Congress extinguished Alaska Native tribal autonomy over [...] fishing [...]. The indifference of dominant [US government land management agency] fisheries management models to social relations among salmon and Yupiaq peoples is evocative of a mode of care that Lisa Stevenson (2014) characterizes as “anonymous.” When life is managed at the level of the population, Stevenson writes, care is depersonalized. Care becomes “invested in a certain way of being in time,” standardized to the clock, and according to the temporal terms of the caregiver, rather than in time with the subject of care herself (ibid.: 134). Stevenson identifies care at the population level as  anonymous because it focuses exclusively on survival – on metrics of life and death – rather than on the social relations that make the world inhabitable. Thus, it is not namelessness that marks “anonymous care” as  such, but rather “a way of attending to the life and death of [others]” that strips life of the social bonds that imbue it with meaning […]. At the same time, conservation, carried out anonymously, ignores not only the temporality of Yupiaq peoples’ relations with fish, but also the human relations that human-fish relations make possible. Yupiat in Naknaq critique conservation measures for disregarding  relations that ensure not only the continuity of salmon lives but also the duration of Yupiat lifeworlds (see Jackson 2013). Life is doubly negated. For Yupiaq peoples in southwest Alaska, fishing and its attendant practices are […] modes of sociality that foster temporally deep material and affective attachments to kin and to the Kuskokwim River that are constitutive of well-being [...]. As Yup’ik scholar Theresa Arevgaq John (2009) writes, cultivating relations both with ancestors and fish, among other more-than-human beings, is a critical part of young peoples’ […] development  [...]. In other words, the futures that Yupiaq peoples imagine depend on not only a particular orientation to salmon in the present, but also an orientation to the past that salmon mediate.

[Source: William Voinot-Baron. “Inescapable Temporalities: Chinook Salmon and the Non-Sovereignty of Co-Management in Southwest Alaska.” July 2019.]

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

[C]oncentration of global wealth and the "extension of hopeless poverties"; [...] the intensification of state repression and the growth of police states; the stratification of peoples [...]; and the production of surplus populations, such as the landless, the homeless, and the imprisoned, who are treated as social "waste." [...] To be unable to transcend [...] the horror [...] of such a world order is what hell means [...]. Without a glimpse of an elsewhere or otherwise, we’re living in hell. [...] [P]eople are rejecting prison as the ideal model of social order. [...] Embedded in this resistance, sometimes explicitly and sometimes implicitly, is both a deep longing for and the articulation of, the existence of a life lived otherwise and elsewhere than in hell. [...] [W]hat’s in the shadow of the bottom line [...] -- what stands, living and breathing, in the place blinded from view. [...] Instincts and impulses are always contained by a system which dominates us so thoroughly that it decides when we can “have an impact” on “restructuring the world,” which is always relegated to the future. [...] “Self-determination begins at home [...].” Cultivating an instinctual basis for freedom is about identifying the longings that already exist -- however muted or marginal [...]. The utopian is not only or merely a “fantasy of” and for “the future collectivity”. It is not simply fantasmatic or otherworldly in the conventional temporal sense. The utopian is a way of conceiving and living in the here and now, which is inevitably entangled with all kinds of deformations [...]. But there are no guarantees. No guarantees that the time is right [...]; no guarantees that just a little more misery and suffering will bring the whole mess down; no guarantees that the people we expect to lead us will (no special privileged historical agents); [...] no guarantees that we can protect future generations [...] if we just wait long enough or plan it all out ahead of time; no guarantees that on the other side of the big change, some new utterly-unfathomable-but-worth-waiting-for happiness will be ours [...]. There are no guarantees of coming millenniums or historically inevitable socialisms or abstract principles, only our complicated selves together and a [...] principle in which the history and presence of the instinct for freedom, however fugitive or extreme, is the evidence of the [...] possibility because we’ve already begun to realize it. Begun to realize it in those scandalous moments when the present wavers [...]. The point is to expose the illusion of supremacy and unassailability dominating institutions and groups routinely generate to mask their fragility and their contingency. The point is [...] to encourage [...] us [...] to be a little less frightened of and more enthusiastic about our most scandalous utopian desires and actions [...], a particular kind of courage and a few magic tricks.

[Source: Avery Gordon. “Some thoughts on the Utopian.” 2016.]

[nealiios]

The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

#horror #70s #occult #supernatural #television #writing

[365days365movies]

Western August I: Stagecoach (1939) - Recap and Review

Let’s start at the beginning...almost,

The Western arguably was born with the 1903 film, The Great Train Robbery. This 12-minute short film is a classic, and one of the earliest achievements in film-making. It’s also, unsurprisingly, a Western, and based on an actual train robbery. At the time it was made, the Wild West had only really ended a few years prior, with its heyday being about 40 years past. Which, yeah, is CRAZY. People who remembered the Wild West lived into the 1950s and ‘60s. It seems like so long ago, and it was, but it was still relatively recent from a historical standpoint.

From then, the Western remained a staple of cinema, and would be so for over half a century. And then, enter John Ford. Born in 1894, the Irish American director began his career in 1914 as an assistant and handyman, often working with his older brother Francis. Eventually, John took his place as a director, starting with silent films, especially westerns. Starting with the very successful film The Iron Horse in 1924, he quickly rose to stardom. He transitioned from silent films to talkies pretty effortlessly, and continued his streak. All the while, he was also one of the first directors to have a roster of actors in his company. You know how Tim Burton always uses Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter? Or how the Coen Brothers always use Frances McDormand and John Goodman? Or Wes Andersen with Bill Murray and Owen Wilson? Yeah, that started with John Ford and...ugh...

Before I start...fuck John Wayne.

Dude was a racist homophobic asshole, and absolutely a dick. Look it up, or don’t if you’d rather not have one of cinemas most iconic faces completely ruined for you. But OK, outside of that one time that he said that the Native Americans were “selfishly trying to keep the land for themselves”, or that he believed in white supremacy over uneducated blacks...yeah, he’s a DICK...

Marion Robert Morrison was born in Iowa in 1907, and began his film career after becoming injured while surfing without a surfboard and ending his football career. Yes, really. His football coach was a friend of a film director named John Ford, who hired Morrison as a favor to him. Said football coach was also friends with an actual remnant of the Old West: WYATT FUCKING EARP. YEAH.

For years, Morrison was a bit player until starring in the film The Big Trail in 1930, a Western directed by Raoul Walsh. And he wasn’t exactly famous after this, but it was with this film that he took up a screen name: John Wayne, after a Revolutionary War general, Anthony Wayne, and...well, the name John. Anthony sounded too Italian. Yes, really. After this movie, Wayne continued to star in more Westerns, and even became one of the first film cowboys to sing on camera. 

And then, 1939 came along, and John Ford came to him with a new film project. Being a classic Western, the film was about a group of settlers riding on a stagecoach together through the West. Strangers to each other, they find themselves attacked by a group of Native Americans belonging to the Apache tribes. This film, an adaptation of a 1939 short story, would come to be known as Stagecoach. And it would launch Ford, Wayne, and the Western genre into a Golden Age. So no more navel-gazing, let’s get started!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

I get reminded that I haven’t watched a Criterion Collection film in a while, and the film begins with a rousing Western theme, courtesy of...holy shit, this movie has SEVEN COMPOSERS? Well, OK, courtesy of somebody in that list of seven. From there, we cut to a camp somewhere in the Arizona Territory in 1880. Which, again, is only 60 years prior to this film’s release date. There, a group of men discuss the danger imposed on them by the Apache, stirred up by the legendary warrior Geronimo. 

And from there, we go to the town of Tonto, where stagecoach driver Buck (Andy Devine) lets a group of passengers out. One of these passengers is Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), there to catch another shuttle to meet her husband in Dry Fork, New Mexico. However, the stagecoach gains an extra passenger in the form of the Marshal, Curley Wilcox (George Bancroft), who goes to find an outlaw also in Lordsburg.

The passenger list builds with the addition of Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell) and Dallas (Claire Trevor), a drunk and a prostitute both driven out of town by the Law and Order League of Women, due to social stigma affecting them both. In a bar getting a farewell drink, Doc meets yet one more passenger, Samuel Peacock (Donald Meek), a whiskey salesman that Doc is glad to meet. Meanwhile, banker Henry Gatewood (Berton Churchill) also boards the vehicle, under mysterious circumstances.

Friends of Lucy are worried with her travelling a drunk and a prostitute (the ABSOLUTE SCANDAL), but she needs to visit her husband in Dry Fork. As she leaves, she meets eyes with the dangerous but enigmatic gambler Hatfield (John Carradine). And before they’re able to leave altogether, the carriage is stopped by the army, who warn them of the Apache and Geronimo. All of the passengers refuse to get off, and YET TWO MORE passengers board to protect the carriage: the Marshal and Hatfield. And finally, they’re off! But as they head out, they’re stopped when they encounter a recently escaped outlaw.

This is The Ringo Kid (John Wayne), who just got out of prison. The Marshal sees him, and takes him into custody on the way to Lordsburg, where they plan to drop him off into jail. And yes, he’s put on the fucking stagecoach. In total, we have Buck, the Marshal, Lucy, Hatfield, Doc, Peacock, Gatewood, and the Ringo Kid. Jesus, that’s a crowded-ass carriage, even if two of them are outside of it. Hell, Ringo’s sitting on the fuckin’ floor!

Anyway, the group interacts and introduces themselves. We learn that Doc once patched up Ringo’s brother, and was discharged from the Union Army for drunkenness. We learn that Hatfield is a true southern gentleman, and a veteran of the Confederate army (much to Doc’s ire), and that Ringo’s brother was murdered under mysterious circumstances.

The group gets to Dry Forks, currently under occupation by the army. Said army had accompanied them (outside of the carriage, thank God) to Dry Forks, and are staying there to guard against the Apache. Meanwhile, Lucy’s dismayed to find that her husband isn’t in fact there. This leads to the debate of whether or not the party should go back to Tonto, or head onwards to Lordsburg. Buck wants to go back to Tonto, as does Peacock, while literally everybody else wants to go to Lordsburg. And so, they continue onwards.

Before heading onwards, the group sits for dinner, during which Ringo is the only one to show any form of kindness to Dallas, as everybody else looks down on her for prostitution. Shit, man, they won’t even sit near her at the table. Jesus. Unfortunately, Dallas is used to this cruel treatment, and it allows her to bond with Ringo in her loneliness. Once again, character interactions reveal things about our cast. Lucy is feeling quite ill, and Hatfield reveals that he served under her father in the Confederate Army. 

And from there, the coach continues on through the desert. Buck and the Marshal argue about letting Ringo free, as he aims to continue his feud with the outlaw Luke Plummer and his brothers, despite the fact that he’ll likely be killed by them. It’s for this reason that the Marshal wants to keep Ringo in his custody, as he was good friends with his father and doesn’t want to see him killed by the dangerous Plummers, whom Buck thinks should be taken down regardless.

Inside the coach, the banker reveals that he’s literally a Republican from 2016 (he rants about small government, and claims that a businessman should be President, holy shit), while people keep treating Dallas like shit, except for Ringo. They go through a cold mountain pass, which isn’t great for Lucy for some reason. It’s actually quite rough on everyone. Except for Doc Boone, who keeps drinking Peacock’s whiskey samples, which is hilarious.

Finally, the group makes it to the next stop, Apache Wells. There, Lucy discovers that her husband has been severely wounded in a battle with the Apache, and she falls faint. Despite being absolutely SMASHED, Doc sobers up to help her, with the help of Ringo and the Marshal. Meanwhile, Dallas watches over her, despite the rancor that Lucy’s tossed at her this whole time.

The group stays the night, attended to by Chris (Chris Pin-Martin) a Mexican man who’s married to Yakima (Elvira Rios), an Apache woman who...is played by a Mexican singer. Huh. I mean...it’s still technically redface, unfortunately. But then again, the attitude towards Native American actors at this time was...oh boy. And the portrayal of the Mexicans in the camp aren’t exactly great, as a group of them steal the group’s spare horses, meaning that they only have one set of horses to use from here on out.

But amongst the unpleasant is a pleasant surprise, and the reveal of the cause for Lucy’s mysterious condition: she’s pregnant. Or rather, she was, as the baby’s just been delivered, and is being held by Dallas. As the group celebrates, Chris warns Ringo to stay away from Lordsburg, as the Plummers will kill him. But Ringo has something else on his mind.

See, on seeing Dallas with the baby, he finds himself quite in love with her. He finds her outside, and tells her that his father and brothers were killed by the Plummers. In turn, she reveals that her family was massacred on the real-life Superstition Mountain. Their conversation ends in Ringo proposing to Dallas, which she protests to because of her mysterious past.

The next morning, Yakima’s left with Chris’ horse and rifle, and the group worry that she’s gone to tell the Apache. After Gatewood panics about his mysterious valise being possibly stolen, the group packs up and readies themselves to go. But Lucy is, of course, still ill from literally giving birth hours ago. Things are still tense between Lucy and Dallas, despite Dallas taking care of her the entire fucking night. Jesus, lady, that high horse is looking uncomfortable, you should get off it.

Dallas has something else to worry about, as she’s thinking on Ringo’s proposal. She consults with the doctor, who reminds her of her mysterious and checkered past being revealed if she goes. But she doesn’t seem to care, and she decides to accept the proposal. As for the rest, Gatewood’s freakin’ the fuck out. Because of Lucy’s condition, the doctor requests that they don’t leave until a day later. And Gatewood doesn’t give a single shit, as the Apache are close enough. Still, the party decides to stay, at Hatfield’s added insistence.

Ringo and Dallas talk, with Dallas both warning him of the Plummers, and also accepting his proposal. The men are all still arguing about whether or not they should leave, and they note that the Apache are likely between them and their destination. Ringo then takes the opportunity to escape and ride to Lordsburg for revenge on the Plummers. But he stops when he sees smoke signals on the hill. The Apache are coming.

No more waiting, it’s time to GO. Taking the still recovering lady and her newborn child Coyote into the stagecoach, they take off into the desert. Gatewood continues to run his loudmouth, to the ire of Hatfield and Ringo. And Peacock, to my delight, shows some kindness and “Christian charity” to Dallas, as she holds Coyote during the ride. And after all, they’re almost at the ferry!

Ah, shit, the ferry! Looks like the ferry, and the entire town of Lee’s Ferry have been burned. And if they ford the river, all of their supplies could be flooded, or the oxen could drown! Or worse, dysentery could set in! That’s what The Oregon Trail taught me! And yet, despite this, that’s actually EXACTLY what they do! And unlike me literally every time I’ve every tried to cross a river without a ferry, they make it through fine! Realistic educational games my ASS!

But it’s not entirely safe, as the group are being watched by none other than the Apache, who make their way down to intercept the group. In the carriage, meanwhile, the group is thankful that they’ve made their way from danger, and even Gatewood relaxes a little. Doc Boone makes a toast, and everyone seems to be getting along for once.

OH FUCK, PEACOCK GOT HIT!

The girlfriend IMMEDIATELY SAYS, “Now he really is Drew Peacock.” I leave and get boba to soothe my injured spirit from that well-timed joke. And then, the movie continues, and the chase is on! The Apache chase the stagecoach through the desert, and the groups trade gunshots and arrows, with Ringo shooting from the back. Gatewood panics so hard that Doc Boone punches him and IMMEDIATELY knocks him out, as he attends to Peacock’s injuries.

But despite their best efforts, the Apache group catches up to them, although many of them are killed by Ringo, the Marshal, Doc, and Hatfield. In the process, Buck is also shot, and Ringo literally jumps ON THE FUCKING HORSES, and commands them from the front like a goddamn badass. Things begin to get worse, as everybody in the stagecoach runs out of ammo, at the worst possible time. Hatfield only has one bullet remaining, and he considers using it...to kill Lucy! Holy fuck!

And just as he’s about to fire IN HER FUCKING FACE, the sounds of horns ring out as the cavalry arrives. And Hatfield, dick that he is, is shot. I think he was trying to spare her the indignity of being captured by the Apache, but Jesus, man! He collapses, and reveals that his father is a judge in Virginia before he...either passes out or dies, I’m not sure. The group finally gets to Lordsburg, where it turns out that Lucy’s husband is gonna be OK, and wasn’t severely injured. She tanks Dallas for everything that she’s done, and promises to help her should she ever need assistance. Good, finally, the lady needs a goddamn break.

The stagecoach rides through the busy town, and the arrival of the Ringo Kid gets the attention of Luke Plummer (Tom Tyler), who fetches his brothers Hank (Vester Pegg) and Ike (Joe Rickson). Time to get ready for a showdown, it seems. Dallas seems to know this, and goes to Ringo after the living Peacock (yay!) and the not-so-living Hatfield (oof) are brought in for medical help.

Buck’s also OK, but Gatewood isn’t. See, that valise he was carrying was actually full of money, and he had embezzled it from his own bank. He had counted on telegraph lines being down, so that he could escape with his ill-gotten gains, but has no such luck, and is led away in handcuffs! HA!

Ringo, meanwhile, is set to kill Luke Plummer and his brothers. The Marshal lets him escape, and promises to get Dallas safely down to a little ranch he owns in the South. Dallas and Ringo walk off together, and Dallas tries to get him to leave and say goodbye before he goes to his death, and before he finds out about her past (presumably as a prostitute). 

See, they’re actually walking up to a brothel, where Dallas is going to stay and work. Because, yeah, she’s a prostitute. Sucks that she’s been so maligned, because prostitution fuckin’ BUILT the Old West! I guess it’s easier to see that with historical context. As Ringo finds out the truth about Dallas (which he might’ve known all along), he still insists upon marrying her...and upon killing the Plummers.

Doc, meanwhile, goes to the bar where the Plummers are waiting. He tells them that he’ll get them arrested, and Luke swears to come back for him after their business with Ringo is concluded. The brothers head outside, ready for the final showdown. It’s 3 on one, Plummers against Ringo. Ringo fires! A few more shots...then silence. And Dallas mourns.

Except that Ringo wins the fight, and goes back to her! A happy ending! I’m sure that’ll be pretty goddamn rare this month. The Marshal arrives to take Ringo away, and Ringo goes as promised. She asks to ride with him a bit, and the Marshal agrees. He and Doc watch them get on, then cause the horses of the carriage to stampede away, letting Ringo and Dallas escape into the desert, together. And that’s the end!

Y’know...I liked it! I really liked it! 

This movie is often referred to as the greatest Western of all time, and the reason that the Western survived into the next several decades. And honestly, I get it! It was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, and won for Best Supporting Actor (Thomas Mitchell, AKA Doc) and Best Original Score, both of which were quite deserved!

Review time!

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Sure, it’s a little hokey. But at the same time, it’s good classic Hollywood acting! Wayne, Trevor, Mitchell, Carradine, and Devine are standouts for me, all of which serving their roles well. Also, fun fact about Andy Devine: he’s the voice of Friar Tuck in Disney’s Robin Hood! KNEW I recognized that voice!

Plot and Writing - 10/10: Standard plot? Sure. Engaging as hell? Hell yeah! This is just a good story, plain and simple. No holes, no problems, no mistakes, and purely straightforward. Great writing by the original story author, Ernest Haycox, and great screenplay by Dudley Nichols!

Directing and Cinematography - 10/10: Great looking movie, too! All credit to John Ford, unsurprisingly. Cinematographer Bert Glennon also deserves credit for the beautiful landscape shots throughout. Gogeous film, even in black-and-white!

Production and Art Design - 8/10: This is pretty standard Western production design, so not a lot to write home about specifically. However, that doesn’t mean it’s bad. To the contrary, it’s quite good! Just does stand out to me quite as much as other movies. Might be a nitpick, but it’s still something against the film.

Music and Editing - 10/10: No complaints! Seven composers definitely make their presence known, and you can tell that this score heavily informed all Western scores after it. It’s iconic, and it’s perfect for the mood. As for the editing by Otho Lovering and Dorothy Spencer...it’s great! Perfect pacing, well-edited...no complaints whatsoever.

94%, and I had fun with this one!

I honestly did have quite a good time with this one. I can’t really call it a “fun” movie, but it definitely is a good one. Plus, it’s a John Ford/John Wayne film, which is basically a staple of the genre. So, what’s next?

Next: My Darling Clementine (1946), dir. John Ford

#stagecoach #stagecoach 1939 #john ford #claire trevor #john wayne #andy devine #john carradine #thomas mitchell #george bancroft #apache #western august #365 days 365 movies #365 movie challenge #western genre #user365 #usersasha #my gifs #mygifs

[lais-a-ramos]

On Lovecraft Country and the way the narrative presents queerness

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean"

Hozier, Take Me to Church

oh, boy...

i knew some of these deaths could happen in the finale, but i definetely wasn't prepared for any of this, wow.

i guess that, with the events of the finale, including atticus' death, there really is no point in getting the show renewed for a season 2, as as i hoped and wished before, because all of the conflicts that were set up were resolved. i mean, there's always the possibility of using time-travel to do a retcon and bring all the dead characters back, or, at least, two of the protagonists and the villain, but, maybe it would take too many alterations in the narrative, because it seems like the whole thing was planned for a mini-series.

so, now, all we have left is to do a breakdown of what worked and what didn't in lovecraft country's limited series run.

i think that, overall, the message of black ppl taking back the power of ancestry that was stripped from them by white supremacy and structural racism was well-done, and the symbolism was very well-crafted in the final takedown of the season's main villain, which was a representation of how the racism based on indifference born out of white privilege is almost as bad as the racism based on pure hate and despise, which is a valid message, considering the former is a bystander to the abuses and rise to power of the latter.

although i still find the timing was poorly chosen because, well, as of now, all over the world, it's not white ppl who dub themselves "liberal" or "progressive" and claim themselves to not be racist but refuse to act anti-racist that present an actual threat to our human rights, but literal, actual fascists and neo nazis...there are bigger fish to fry now...

but i digress...

on the final score, i guess that when it comes to queer/LGBTQ+ representation, the show fell actually felt real short for a product that crafted so well the race issues, proving that there is still a lot to go before we get to see intersecting identities being portrayed in media the same compex way they exist in the real world.

no, lovecraft country is not guilty of queerbaiting, unlike some of the same ppl in fandom that are the firsts to either erase the half of a couple that is a BIPOC or to deny a canon cis het biracial ship to hype up a fanon white wlw ship and other problematic stuff plenty of times in LGBTQ+ fandom spaces might say.

but that doesn't mean that the treatment of LGBTQ+ issues was satisfying or can be considered good rep, and it actually repeats some of the same tired tropes about queerness and blackness.

while we can say that the show did a relatively good job with montrose as an individual, the same can't be said of the other characters and the final messages.

like, for example, introducing a trans/non-binary indigenous, the Arawak two-spirt Yahima, only to kill them on the next episode was insensitive, to say the least.

while it's true that misha green apologized for the mistake, and said she and the writers tried to make a point that even oppressed groups are capable of oppression, the final score was that a trans/non-binary character was introduced as a plot-device and brutally murdered before having even a chance to properly develop.

in other words, used as a prop.

in a world in which trans ppl are brutally murdered at alarming rates, and most of the victims are BIPOC trans ppl, that is something that we can't let it slide just because the general message of the show was good for cis het black ppl.

the same can be said on the treatment of sammy in the narrative.

while it's true that montrose being aggressive and acting the way he did, pushing ppl he cared about away and shunning every chance of vulnerability due to internalized homophobia, toxic masculinity and misogyny, as this very interesting critique by amani marie hamed of nerdist pointed out, his characterization nonetheless falls into the same old stereotype in american culture of accusing black ppl of falling behind when it comes to queer acceptance and associating black masculinity with homophobia.

also, the author of the article says it better, but, overall, sammy's existence ends up being just another plot device, serving to say to the audience that the producers and writers know that queer ppl existed in the 50's, but, at the same time, repeating some of the same tropes as usual, like associating being queer with being clandestine and deviant instead of showing it as a natural thing that was perceived as deviant at the time, as we can see by that scene of sammy having a sexual encounter in the alley behind his bar.

the author even mentions that queer ppl overall had houses, and most of the encounters actually happened there, and that scene reinforces the idea that queerness is inherently animalistic.

the article also points out how sammy is mostly there just to be shutted out, first by montrose and latter even atticus, and, ends up being another prop to lift montrose to deuteragonist status, being rejected and abused by montrose solely to highlight tic's father journey with his personal issues that apparently he simply wrapped up in a span of 2 episodes.

the fact that sammy was a also a more feminine gay man, even participating in ball culture as a drag queen, and yet most of his appearences involved him being degraded or shut out or overall mistreated by montrose, even tic, and that scene in which atticus forgives montrose after he revealed he never acted on his homosexuality and cheated on tic's mom, even though it's implied she did cheat on him with his brother george, just reinforces the idea it's ok for black and brown men to be gay, as long as they are not THAT GAY™️.

the introduction of thomas in episode 1x09 only to be murdered in the riots is another example of how queerness seem to come with a price in this show if you act on it.

once again, a gay character was introduced in the narrative to further montrose's pain and trauma.

and his introduction was absolutely not necessary, because being a survivor of a massacre like the tulsa riots and a survivor of parental physical abuse is already was already enough for making tic and the audience begin to emphatize with montrose's pain, there was no need to kill another queer character just for that.

not to say we should agree with everything the nerdist article says, of course.

at times, it felt like the author was saying that addressing these issues in the black community is a problem on itself, and that is definetely not the solution.

but, when we consider the setting of a limited series with a plot-driven approach to the scripts, the way the topic is addressed ends up being superficial and rushed, and what could have been a delicate approach to a complicated man discovering his sexuality if the show was an on-going series, ends up being just a narrative built to put montrose in the spotlight in an attempt of getting a few emmy nominations for outstanding performances, and that's about it.

now, what really serves to cement the LGBTQ+/queer representation in lovecrat country as a disservice is the treatment of ruby, christina and their relationship.

i did a few metas explaining christina's and ruby's characterizations, including one i posted before the finale started explaining why ruby was so important to queer black and feminine-aligned nbs being a dark-skinned fat black queer woman discovering her sexuality and figuring out there was more to life than the social roles that were pushed into her, and how the parallels between her and christina, two different women separated by race and class but with the common feeling of being interrupted by social restraints that binded them, were a way for a character like ruby to be treated by the narrative the same way white women get to be treated in fantasy stories, as someone worthy of being courted and romanced as a light-skinned and thin black woman like her sister leti.

but with that finale, and the way the whole thing played out, with not only christina and ruby dead, but also with christina killing ruby, felt, ironically, like the very same trope that's been the norm for queer characters for a long time.

if we consider the tropes of the genre the show and the source material draw inspiration from, pulp fiction magazines, a medium that was very popular until the rise of the cinema and TV in the 50's and 60's that also served as an inspiration for them, then we know that in this medium some of the harmful tropes about queerness that exist until this day were particularly prevalent, including that of the queercoded villains.

to talk about this, i'm going to refer to this amazing article by tricia ennis on the history of queercoding for syfy wire.

first, a definition:

"queer coding, much as the name suggests, refers to a process by which characters in a piece of fictional media seem — or code — queer. this is usually determined by a series of characteristics that are traditionally associated with queerness, such as more effeminate presentations by male characters or more masculine ones from female characters. these characters seem somehow less than straight, and so we associate those characters with queerness — even if their sexual orientation is never a part of their story."

between the hays code in cinema going from 1934 to 1968, the comics code authority in the comics industry from 1954 to the early 21st century (with dc comics and archie comics being the last to break with it in 2011, mind you), the code of practices for television broadcasting from 1952 to 1983 and its predecessor for radio NAB code of ethics, the authors all over mass media couldn't approach the topic of queerness and portray openly and proud queer characters under the risk of being persecuted by the censors, and so, begin to hide queer chracters under the disguise of subtext.

and given the content creators couldn't show any form of positive queer/LGBTQ+ representation under the risk of being punished by the censors, the alternative they found was to portray the queer characters as the villains or antagonists or degenerates, and punish them with death.

the syfy wire article says it better than i ever could:

"even dangerous LGBTQ tropes rose out of this time period, as the depictions of pulp noir femme fatales and other deadly women rose in popularity. these women were usually written as promiscuous and sexually devious, both with men and sometimes with women. they were also evil and usually met their end as a result of their sins. While depictions of LGBTQ characters were frowned upon, depictions of them in this specifically negative light were not. you were not endorsing an “alternative lifestyle” if your gay characters always met an untimely demise. Instead, they were merely paying for their poor choices. this trope would eventually give way to what we now refer to as 'Bury Your Gays.' "

and the thing is, all those censorship laws are over by now, but the tropes/clichés that arised on that era are still prevalent in pop culture 'till this day, consumed by the audiences and reproduced by content creators, in the industry or in fan spaces, whether they are aware of said trope/clichés or not.

now, that is where ruby, christina and their affair on the show enter.

to explain how problematic and harmful the way these characters have been portrayed is, and what kind of message it sends about black queerness, i first have to explain christina's function on the story.

christina, as a character, was basically the texbook pulp noir femme-fatale, checking most of the boxes of the tv tropes description of the trope, from the "red equals evil and sin" imagery to being a wild card, that character who changes sides according to their own desires and individualistic goals.

in her specific case, helping the white supremacists and the black heroes alike in her pursue for unlimited power to protect herself from the oppression that comes with being a white woman, particularly a wealthy one, in which the very same presumption of innocence that gives them privilege over BIPOC is used to infantilize them and strip them from their agency, putting their bodies and choices under the tutelage of cis het white men.

so, her function on the show was basically to manipulate the characters on the two sides alike.

and that is where the problems in queer representation come in, because, to manipulate them, she acts as a sensual seductress.

and what does the script uses to highlight that this is a character willing to go to the most immoral places to achieve her goals? it makes christina a sexually fluid and gender fluid character.

that is basically playing a move straight from the hays code era.

not only does the show plays christina's sexual and gender fluidity as her being "freaky" and a proof of her deviant nature, but it makes her seduction of ruby as a central part of the scheme that positions her as the main villain of the show.

this portrayal of christina as a textbook femme-fatale with a touch of white feminism is already very problematic on its own, especially when we consider her death and how brutal it was, because, yes, while it's true she is privileged because she is white and wealthy, she is still a woman and a queer one at that, and giving her the same traditional treatment for femme-fatales in pulp fiction ends up reinforcing harmful stereotypes about gender and sexuality.

but, when we consider what it means for ruby as a character, it gets WAY worse.

ruby is a character that's been shown to feel very frustrated about the ways in which societal structures of power interfere in her life, not only on a professional level, but even on a personal level as well, making her feel "interrupted".

dealing with the same issues that all black women and feminine-aligned nbs who don't fit into the eurocentric standards of femininity and of beauty do, and not matching the criteria for being hypersexualized by society as the black women considered conventionally pretty -- with thin bodies like the white women or hourglass body frames, being light-skinned and so on --, ruby has her humanity stripped from her because everyone expects her to be stronger than it's humanly possible.

everyone seems to expect something of her at home, her younger sister took advantage of her money for years, and not only all of her goals in the professional realm seem to be frustrated by social structures of oppression, but even her relationship goals as well, given that most of the men that she gets involved with, whether they are black or white, seem to believe they have the right to abandon her and treat her like trash because she doesn't feel a thing and is "strong" enough.

ruby feels frustrated and tired, and she has every single right to do so, because, as what happens to most black women and feminine-aligned nbs, she is disrespected and disregarded by everyone, white and black alike.

so, when christina comes in with an offer of improving ruby's life with magic, of course she takes the opportunity.

and it seemed like the show was willing to deal with the moral complexities of christina's shapeshifting potion and validating ruby's feelings, or at least, sort of validating.

but, by killing her at the end, it just played out as if ruby's feelings meant she was merely a traitor to the race, and not a woman who was tired of feeling frustrated with all of these impossible obstacles society sets for black women and feminine-aligned nbs, especially dark-skinned and fat ones like her, and justified in her anger and frustration.

she did everything right and accomplished nothing, and, when she finally decided to rebel and focus on herself for a change, she met her demise.

but that is just the tip of iceberg, really.

what makes this situation with ruby so frustrating is the fact that, when the show presented christina's queerness as another sign she was "on the wrong side of the tracks" and a villian that should be defeated by the black heroes, which consist in a family, the narrative is implying that a person has to choose between their queerness, on one side, and their blackness and community on the other.

of course, one might argue that the fact montrose was turned into a gay man himself in the adaptation prevents this from happening. but, when we consider montrose was forgiven by tic only after reinforcing he never did cheated on dora and acted on his queerness and lived his gayness, when he really had every single right to do so, especially because it's implied dora slept with his brother george and the three of them knew she was just montrose's beard, then we have the message that it's ok to be queer as long as you don't act on your queerness at all.

there is a part in the review for nerdist that i mentioned above, in which the author says that one of the book's best qualities was that "the source material also illustrates the importance of family and community ties between Black protagonists", and that the TV show ruins it when it "introduces abuse, alcoholism, and family dysfunction, and strips Black characters of their own magic."

that is a part of the article, published in october 14 2020, that now no longer makes sense after the finale, because that message is there.

but, the actual problem is that the ideas of family and community shouldn't be taken for granted bc they are always under political dispute, and are oftenly used to reinforce backward messages when it comes to gender and sexuality, serving as a tool for the control of the bodies and authonomy of ppl of various marginalized groups and intersecctions, including women, BIPOC and queer ppl alike.

while these things are not inherently good or bad, and they are also part of the culture and identity for plenty of BIPOC ethnical identities, the concepts of family and community are usually weaponized by conservatives and used to justify things like queerphobia and the restrictions over reproductive rights.

queer ppl in all walks of life and skin colors all over the world have to deal with plenty of conflicts about coming out because, by deciding to live their own truth, they can never know for sure whether coming out will put them at odds with their families and community until they dare to do so.

so, ruby's dillemma for not knowing what to choose, her family or a life with christina, plays out as the type of experience queer ppl have to deal on a daily basis, and when we consider the intersection with race/ethnicity, it gets even more cruel because our gender identities and sexual/romantic/aesthetic orientations, that are natural parts of us, make us being invisibilized and silenced in our own cultures and feel like we have to give up on our own communities in order to be able to live our queerness.

there are few things more gut-wrenching than that feeling of fear that you might be disowned by your family and relatives and your community -- whether is it a neighbourhood, a village, a small town etc -- because a part of yourself is considered at odds with your heritage.

and when we consider all the christian imagery in the show, the final result is a really troubling one.

while it's true that being christian and believing in god doesn't authomatically makes anyone a bigot (i actually still retain some of the beliefs i was raised into as a catholic latin-american), it's also true that now, more than ever, we can't ignore science, including history.

the entire way in which they referred to magic as a devil's work was very troubling and evocates the same discriminative rethoric that white european colonizers used to justify the destruction of the ancient old religions and beliefs of BIPOC in their own homeland, the ancient culture of our ancestors, and also the oppression of peasant women in europe.

while we can't generalize, given each culture had its own particularities, there's an agreement in the scientific community that, overall, the cultures of the first nations and indigenous folks from the american continent, the african continent, the asian continent and oceania/pacific islands were far more accepting of different manifestations of queerness.

that means that queerphobia was part of the colonial project, once the traditional family values of christianity were used as a tool for the white colonizers to regulate the bodies and sexuality of the colonized and keep them under control.

and that is why the association of these ideals of family and community as inherent to blackness ends up being problematic, because we can't discuss racism without discussing colonization, and we can't discuss colonization without considering the ways in which queerphobia and religion were used as tools of colonial oppression.

the worst part is that, when it comes to ruby, the producers and writers really didn't need to do kill her at all.

and while the show did right in not showing how christina killed ruby, sparing the audience from watching another black body being brutalized, it's also true they didn't have to kill the character to get her out of the way from the final confrontation between christina and tic's family.

they literally went and changed her background from her book counterpart and made the woman a musician, and a blueswoman at that.

all they needed was to have her share a goodbye scene with christina the same way she had with leti, saying that she wanted to be with christina but couldn't fight her family and friends like that, grab a copy from the safe travel negro guide and set off in a bus to travel all over the U.S., singing very sad blues songs about falling in love with a white devil once.

that's all the producers and writers needed, to use the "sent in a bus" trope.

but the choice was to portray ruby as a character facing the consequences of following her desires , which ends up feeling like a punishment for a dark-skinned and fat queer black woman for daring to question the position society has placed her because of who she is.

this is in no way an attempt to "cancel" the producers or the writers, because a) their work is still important as a team of mostly black creators and b) canceling doesn't seem to have significant consequences, and seems to lead only to more social media wars than anything else.

but now that it finally seems diversity is getting more space in media, this type of discussion gets more important.

there is a slow increase on more representation of queer/LGBTQ+ characters in media and more productions involving queer/LGBTQ+ creatives, but, most of the time, the characters and are white, or, when there are biracial couples, the characters of color are just token minorities, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

there is a slow increase in BIPOC characters representation in media and more productions involving BIPOC as creatives, but, most of the time, the characters are cis heterosexual, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

but, for pop culture and media to be truly diverse, there has to be more space for the narratives of ppl that exist and belong to the two groups to raise our voices and be heard, whether is it in the entertainment industry, society at large or even in fandom spaces.

because she shouldn't be forced to pick between one identity over the other.

our existences shouldn't be interrupted just because society doesn't know how to deal with them.

and if that make us sinners, then so be it.

#lovecraft country #ruby baptiste #christina braithwhite #ruby x christina #rubtina #rutina #montrose freeman #lgbtqiap+ #lgbtq representation #queer representation #poc representation #woc representation #moc representation #black women representation #representation in media #representation in fiction #tv representation #it's ok for non-BIPOC queer folks to reblog #and it's ok for non-queer BIPOC folks to reblog

[script-a-world]

I'm trying to build a wuxia world that's modern. But I'm having serious trouble with all the outdated ideas and lifestyles as well as modern understanding of science. All the mechanics as well as fighting are basically scientific, but extended and exaggerated to be made like it's magic. Problem is, modern science refutes all that. Especially about the readily known or secret everything is in the modern world. I could explain in more detail or specific ideas, but it's not easy in English.

Mod Note: The asker later sent an ask that they had found someone privately to help with their questions, but as Tex had already put the work into this response, and there may be others interested, we are still posting our reply.

Tex: Wuxia is inherently a genre of historical fantasy, so I understand the struggle with bringing it into a modern setting. Let me paste a short Wikipedia synopsis in to help orient me, with a Chinese version so you have something in a more navigable language.

The word "wǔxiá" is a compound composed of the elements wǔ (武, literally "martial", "military", or "armed") and xiá (俠, literally "chivalrous", "vigilante" or "hero"). A martial artist who follows the code of xia is often referred to as a xiákè (俠客, literally "follower of xia") or yóuxiá (遊俠, literally "wandering xia"). In some translations, the martial artist is referred to as a "swordsman" or "swordswoman" even though he or she may not necessarily wield a sword.

The heroes in wuxia fiction typically do not serve a lord, wield military power, or belong to the aristocratic class. They often originate from the lower social classes of ancient Chinese society. A code of chivalry usually requires wuxia heroes to right and redress wrongs, fight for righteousness, remove oppressors, and bring retribution for past misdeeds. Chinese xia traditions can be compared to martial codes from other cultures such as the Japanese samurai bushidō.

Source: Wikipedia in English

武侠文化是華人界特有的一種流行文化，體現於武俠類作品的盛行，乃至影響到小說、漫畫、影視、電子遊戲和音樂等各種娛樂媒介。武俠文化多以各式俠客為主角，神乎其神的武術技巧為特點，刻畫宣揚俠客精神。

Source: Wikipedia in Chinese

Both versions have a section on common elements and themes found in the wuxia genre. This is good, because it helps us break down the core of the genre, and how we can bring this out of the historical setting.

“Wu” encompasses the traditions of martial arts and its accompanying subculture. There are plenty of martial arts schools in China and other parts of the world, so it would be easy to research how they have adapted to the modern world.

“Xia” is a bit harder. The Chinese version stops at the definition that it is a Confucian value, whereas the English version breaks the definition down into more items. Let me copy down what the English version states in its “Code of xia” section:

The eight common attributes of the xia are listed as benevolence, justice, individualism, loyalty, courage, truthfulness, disregard for wealth, and desire for glory. Apart from individualism, these characteristics are similar to Confucian values such as ren (仁; "benevolence", "kindness"), zhong (忠; "loyalty"), yong (勇; "courage", "bravery") and yi (義; "righteousness").[11] The code of xia also emphasises the importance of repaying benefactors after having received deeds of en (恩; "grace", "favour") from others, as well as seeking chou (仇; "vengeance", "revenge") to bring villains to justice. However, the importance of vengeance is controversial, as a number of wuxia works stress Buddhist ideals, which include forgiveness, compassion and a prohibition on killing.

These attributes, as well as the mentioned Buddhist ones, can also be found in works set in modern times.

One core tenet, Jianghu, is emphasized in the Chinese version that it is an idea rather than a tangible location. Below is the original Chinese as well as the Google Translate version in English:

江湖不是一個實際存在的場所，在武俠文化中，江湖則是俠客們的活動範圍，「江湖」強調了它的變動性及危險性，「綠林」顯示了他的違法及不合理性，「武林」則限制了他屬於「武人」的屬性。

這個世界即使偶與歷史背景做結合，但虛構的成分仍然很濃厚，「這場域，自成一格，既模擬現實世界，又別闢蹊徑，擁有自足而完整的範疇、規律，與現實世界大相逕庭，基本上是由作者、讀者在某種默契下『虛構』而成。」

抽離歷史情境而虛構，從另一個角度而言，卻也等同於束縛的鬆綁，無論是經濟、政治、社會、法律的歷史實情如何，都無須顧慮，只須假借個虛擬的「古代」，作者只須擁有歷史常識（不是知識），即足以盡情馳 騁在此一想像的空間，將重心置放在英雄的江湖事業、兒女情長及恩怨讎報之中。

虛擬的「江湖世界」，除了存在「俠客」之外，也出現了大量的外來人物，「如文人社會中的書生、官吏、僚佐；宗教社會中的僧人、尼姑、道士；農村社會中的漁夫、樵子、農人；商人社會中的商賈、仕紳；其他如乞丐、妓女、兒童等。」這些三教九流的人物充實且豐富了新的江湖。經過了歷代小說家的改造，新的江湖走出了歷史，成為了一種虛擬但完整的社會型態。

江湖世界中的人物遵守正邪之分和實力至上的原則，同時也藐視世俗禮法，是自由自在的獨立個體，一般而言分為兩類：一是獨行俠，二是集團人物。前者獨來獨往，不受他人約束，後者統屬在某一具有成文或不成文規範下的「集團」，也就是所謂的「幫派」。

Google Translated English:

Jianghu is not an actual place. In the martial arts culture, Jianghu is the range of activities of the knights. "Jianghu" emphasizes its variability and danger. "Green Forest" shows his illegality and irrationality. "Wulin" "Restricts his attributes as "Martial Man".

Even if this world is combined with historical background, the fictitious component is still very strong. "This domain is self-contained. It not only simulates the real world, but also has no other way. It has a self-contained and complete category, law, and real world. Very different, basically made by authors and readers under some kind of tacit understanding."

From the historical context and fiction, from another point of view, it is also equivalent to loose bondage. No matter what the historical facts of the economy, politics, society, and law, there is no need to worry about, just fake a virtual "ancient", The author only needs to have historical common sense (not knowledge), which is enough to ride the space imagined here, and put the focus on the hero's cause and effect, the love of children and the complaint.

In addition to the existence of " knights ", there are also a large number of foreign characters in the virtual "Jianghu World", "such as scholars, officials, and bureaucrats in a literati society; monks, nuns, and priests in a religious society; and fishermen in a rural society. , Woodcutters, peasants; merchants, gentry in the merchant society; others such as beggars, prostitutes, children, etc." These three-religious figures have enriched and enriched the new rivers and lakes. After the transformation of novelists in the past, new rivers and lakes have gone out of history and become a virtual but complete social form.

The characters in the Jianghu world abide by the principles of righteousness and evil and the supremacy of power, and also despise the secular etiquette. They are free and independent individuals, generally divided into two categories: one is the lone traveler, and the other is the group characters. The former travels alone and is not bound by others, while the latter belongs to a "group" under written or unwritten norms, so-called " gangs ."

This reflects well the core definition of the wuxia genre, as well as highlighting that its historical format is not strictly necessary. A modern setting is quite possible!

There are more themes and concepts covered in the Wikipedia articles, but for now the main definition of the genre has been covered.

The issue of “scientific” versus “magical” is a complex one to tackle, specifically because many of the subgenres in martial arts films (or literature) rely upon a suspension of disbelief in some element or another. Usually this relates to either the plot - lending an element of the ridiculous - or the style of fighting - lending an element of skepticality.

This is usually because the goal of the story matters more. In wuxia and related genres, this is due to a moral compass being instilled in main characters, and functions as one of the main driving forces behind the plot. This is something popular of many action films, ranging from John Wick to Kill Bill to Kingsman. Morality is a popular element in storytelling, though admittedly popularity often rests on how visually appealing it is (something more difficult with text).

Because of this, it ultimately does not matter how realistic the fighting is or is not - so long as the main concepts are covered, then you have a wuxia story. That being said, martial arts often stretches the preconceived notions of what a human body can do; with sufficient training, things like high jumps (x, x) and triple kicks (x, x) are well within the realm of believability.

Ninja Assassin has realistic martial artistry, but it bends believability under the assumption that an audience’s preconceived scope of potential is very narrow. The same goes approximately for The Grandmaster (2013), albeit from a literally historical perspective while being set in the mid 20th century.

Some popular films that you could use as a reference for varying degrees of suspending disbelief are: Kung Fu Hustle (2004), The Night Comes for Us (2018), The Karate Kid (either version), and Fatal Contact (2006).

In terms of moving around the “fantasy” part of wuxia to something similar, The Matrix series accomplishes many wuxia themes, and some rather pointedly, while occupying a futuristic setting.

While I don’t know if this precisely answers your question, particularly in regards to the technical feasibility of martial arts as popularly demonstrated in wuxia, I would be more than happy to expand on my answer if you wish.

#pylons #wuxia #Anonymous

[syrossa]

REVOLUTION | vkook

[Jungkook x cyborg!Taehyung]

— wordcount: 3.8k

— genre: sci-fi/ action/ oneshot/ angst

— summary: Jungkook is on the side of the Resistance, but his heart belongs to the wicked Emperor's right hand. In a world of war, he'll have to choose between saving his people or the cyborg he's fallen so tragically in love with.

— notes: previously posted on army amino as "trust me not"

Space year 3043.

After seizing the throne of Nypso 773T , its android emperor has decided to exterminate all individuals human - the last bearers of free will still standing. To execute his commands, the order of the New Inquisition has been launched. Its wicked ways continue to terrorize the planet, and many humans have gone rogue to avoid death in Nypso's compression pits. Jeon Jungkook - the latest recruit of the Resistance, has been extracted from an Inquisition's camp after a month of captivity. During his stay there, an unexpected fascination with the order's leader has emerged. Now they're torn between duty and attraction, survival and the dire need of love in the robotic arms of Nypso 773T.

Pulling on his hood, Jungkook walked into the subway station where the mass of the automated proletariat was finally retreating to its charging points. The route of line 248 resonated in a pre-recorded audio in several transgalactic languages; the outdated robots and refugees here couldn't afford infixed translation. The next train was in seven minutes. Working machines were being produced without a sense of smell, so the coolants and liquids of the entire quadrant could drain freely, channelled through the platform. Supreme androids and cyborgs could almost tell the difference between fume-saturated air and waste matter. Humans, however, were bound to sense it.

Jungkook travelled with the scraps of a filtering mask over his nose and mouth.

A heavy overcoat protected him from curious eyes. Down its lackluster length, a multitude of pockets were sewn with the purpose of convenience, but the inner one by his right hip weighed with the wired device of a hologram transmitter. The message encrypted on it was intended for the eyes of the Resistance only, and its safe transportation had been entrusted to him. Was it the shortage of confidants or Jungkook's short, yet exceptional devotion to the cause that had brought him here, he couldn't tell. One thing was certain — danger stalked him somewhere in this crowd and it moved with a bullet's speed, disguised in coy metal. All solitude amongst machines was extirpated.

He wasn't alone.

But the field of his vision allowed him to suspect and nothing more. Between the industrial smog and the firearm fume, the human eye was unable to discern too much. Few instruction panels hung low over the heads of the departees, providing the dimmest of illumination in venom-tinted yellow where the light of all other signs failed to stretch out to. Propaganda scrolled through interconnected displays in the skyscraping height.

As the train arrived in virid smoke, drunkenly quivering atop the rusted rails, the mob prepared for departure, loud and on the verge of an electric collapse. In the midst of it Jungkook joined the aggressive momentum and it hauled him to the doors. The informants from Quadrant-3 had warned him about identification scanners — each entrance had been installed two of those, in addition to a memory-extracting mechanism, so that all workers could be wiped clean of cache; Nypso liked its slaves productive.

Blazingly red, the scanning rays licked the identification numbers off all mechanic forearms. Each number consisted of uniquely stringed digits and Nypsoian letters, irreplicable and theft-proof, unless, of course, forcefully extracted. Yet such force was hardly ever applied reversibly.

So when Jungkook lifted his sleeve, baring the tattooed numerals on vulnerable display, he knew he had engraved himself with the ink and blood of another.

Collateral damage, they'd call it — the dismantled, maimed anthropomorphic remains of those who had been sacrificed for the camouflage of the Resistance. Through the scanners and the all-seeing surveillance apparatus Jungkook slithered like a ghost, a phantom of matter but never of face. He seated himself in the vacancy of a secluded section at the back of the train, and watched as the vehicle resurfaced overground.

The halved star of Nypso 337T had begun to roll out of sight. Space wind evaded the thin synthetic atmospheric layers, bringing forth what the code specifics referred to as frostnip. Nights here began with euphoria, beauty amid the blistered flesh of the universe, but escalated just as abruptly. Thousands of beings fell victims to the unforgiving cold. The corpses would be disposed of in the vast abyss of the Omicron Galaxy and left to the mercy of the antigravity and destructive cyclones. Sometimes parts of them would fall back on Nypso with the acid torrents.

The cadaverous rains.

Upon crossing the interquadrant border, the train entered a zone of electric anomaly, causing all working robots to cease operating. Jungkook rose from his uncomfortable seat immediately. He was quick on his feet; he headed to the emergency exit in the back. Moving across a high-up, scaffold-like railway with speed disproportionate to its poor technicity, the vehicle was to reach a rail intersection in a matter of minutes — the only window he'd be provided for a secure escape. The man clutched the transmitter through the fabric of the overcoat. A flicker of utter fright glistened in his eyes, the one a madman's irises would produce before he jumps off to death.

A madman, yes, but not alone in his madness.

Because when he threw himself forth in the open air, he knew he would land in the hands of his allies, the members of the Resistance. With a thump and several Nypsoian curses, Jungkook was caught by an aircraft of the forces from Quadrant-4. The second he regained balance, the pressure in his lungs and brain dispersed to free space for relief. General Kim dismissed the crew to greet him.

He grinned. "Lucky to see you here today. We barely managed to get the plane off the ground with the low temperatures."

"Thank you, sir. Captain Jung wasn't lying 'bout your piloting."

"Don't thank me. Min over there conducted the maneuvers today, the lucky bastard." And Jungkook glanced at the back of the pilot's disheveled head, hair chopped and jet black. "Do you have it?"

Derivative of the devices from before the last technological purge, the hologram transmitter was an antique of its own, coded in a long-lost language. It was technically unhackable. The greatest legacy of its predecessors, though, was the function of restricted access, touch-activated to be precise. When the device came into contact with General Kim's palm, trillions of holographic particles erected the glowing, mapped structure of a hollow sphere.

"The core powerhouse!" Jungkook gasped.

"A precise, high-resolution map of the planet's life source. After all these years of gathering data and risking the wellbeing of our entire kind, it's finally complete. We have the key to taking the emperor down, kid." The corner of the General's mouth quirked up. "We have it."

As if prompted by the glimpse of hope, the graspable salvation of mankind, intermittent flashes of red spread like rashes on the titanium insides of the plane while alarms were triggered in the cockpit. Jungkook tripped as the aircraft went into a sudden dive.

The co-pilot cried out, "Enemy crafts, sir. Attempters FM-14, annihilation mode engaged."

"Min, can you make it to the headquarters?" Kim shouted, tying himself to a seat by the plane wall.

Jungkook was still upright, shifting his weight as if hoverboarding. His eyes followed the attackers as the unmanned Attempters deployed their missiles. With a target on its silver hull, the plane of the Resistance forces looped and spiralled between the Quadrant-4 blockscape similarly to a turbulent projectile. But before even managing to be vocal about the pilot's nonpareil skills, he glimpsed the violent gush of blood from Min's shoulder.

Jungkook yelled, "Captain, you're fucking bleeding!"

"I am?," Min shrugged, reducing the throttle from the plane's inversion, motions still as steady as a surgeon's. "About time I showed these can-openers I can beat them single-handedly."

"The Resistance has evaded all attacks again, commander. I must say the human persistence is exhausting me already."

Left arm spasming from damage, Taehyung replied tremulously, "I dispatched two of our best Attempters their way. They must've anticipated an onrush."

Next to the mechanical grandness, the soul-breaking presence of the emperor, Taehyung appeared like a solitary speck of steel; a cyborg utterly defenseless against his superior. He was second to his leader; the right hand of the radically unique conqueror of Nypso 337T and scion of the mighty Omicron race — undoers of time and space. To support his position and survival, he had been recruited as commander of the New Inquisition.

Over the metal of his palms, there was overmuch human blood. The emperor, however, was still unsatisfied with its amount.

"Their defense cannot withstand our supremacy much longer. Can you perhaps figure out why, commander? Why is humankind bound to die out?"

Some deeply buried piece of Taehyung shattered, knowing that the battle he'd deliberately spared the humans was nothing but a hurdle in the long run of their eradication. All his efforts to decelerate the inevitable — governed not by the remains of his anthropoid body but by those of his human mind — were, ultimately, futile. He'd reset the coordinates of the Attempters, encrypted the outdated frequencies of the Resistance, screened the infiltration of their informant, but at what cost? He hadn't given them advantage but mere false hope.

"Because of its will, of course. The free will of humans will lead them to their ultimate end. But first, it will lead them to me." The android's speech was toneless through the holographic projection, yet his virtual presence diminished all strength of the commander's. "Our high-rank infiltrator in the Resistance has information that an assault on the powerhouse is being plotted. I want all units in position tomorrow. The rebellion must be eliminated instantly."

"Through a strengthened line of defense?"

"A lethal one. There must be no survivors. Obey your system, commander, and your emperor."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

Bowing to the conquerer of worlds might have felt elevating once; it may have propelled pride, safety and life, yet it only sparked misery in the metal now. Once the hologram had dispersed, Taehyung collapsed in a stroke of electric current. The fine components of his bionic system had experienced pressure unfit for his outdated build, which happened often when machines failed a designated mission. The scheme with the Attempters would cost him pain unlike any other. Pain of both flesh and robotics.

It took him twelve full minutes to regain consciousness. When he finally did, the back of his brain was burnt to charcoal black, as if he could only recall the excruciation of being electrocuted and nothing before it. He was a high-ranking Nypsoian soldier, a breed of hominid warrior blood and light steel tempered in the titanium core of the star of Adastreia, and he remembered his own pain only. Little by little, bits of data deteriorated within him and memories faded away like flashes of a time long-gone.

He was slowly being erased.

Everything he'd done to protect the man he loved on the other side of law backfired right at him. Instead of saving humanity, he slowly ceased to be human.

He needed to hear his voice more than ever.

Even if he couldn't quite retrieve the sound of it.

The jittery projection of Jungkook's face illuminated the entirety of the bunker, and his eyes bore into Taehyung's, expectant, laden with horror. Each of their rare conversations would begin with shared silence. Life was a variable — both had to be prepared for it to assume its last value at any given moment. The signal was horridly damaged as both sides had dialed from their underground hideaways, one right beneath the emperor's throne room, and the other from the fortified catacombs of Quadrant-4.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call earlier, I--"

Jungkook forced a lopsided smile, enough to hurt but not to discourage. "It's okay. You called."

"Are you alright? The Attempters went close and by the time I seized remote control, they'd fired at one of yours. The pilot."

"Min. He's fine. I guess he'd seen worse than your machine guns," The man chuckled softly. "Man, he even fired back, one hand on the panel, and the other holding a BL-544 out the perforated windshield."

Then Jungkook burst into laughter, lighthearted and paranormally unfit in the midst of the misery of all else. His eyes translated into blueish pixels, so Taehyung could barely visualize the mottle of dark-brown and grey they were in the light, or the dual glint of gravely seriousness and daredevilry inside them. At times like this, it was the eyes that made him feel entirely human. His eyes.

Elated for a brief second, Taehyung said, "I wish I could see you. I think my memory is being messed up with, and I'm starting to forget you."

"That's why we call, right? So we don't forget who the real enemy is."

Who was the real enemy?

"They're planning an attack on the core. The arsenal should be distributed by tomorrow at noon, but it'll be no surprise if you already knew that," said Jungkook, voice suddenly thicker. "What's been ordered to the defense forces?"

"A direct confrontation, fast and brutal. He wants all units charged and ready to dispatch anyone at sight. I'll try to talk him out of the melee but I don't know how much I can do about it."

"You've done more than enough already. Just...stay safe. Whole, preferably."

"Okay, I told you, what happened in Apus was an accident. It was a one-time thing. One. Time!"

Jungkook chortled, having Taehyung join him shortly after, both high on the feeling of detachment from everything and everyone. It was the two of them in this conversation, in this little world of theirs, free from barriers and pain and tyranny.

"You too," Taehyung said. "Stay safe."

"Will do. I'll see you at the end of the world, right?"

"See you then. Hey, Jungkook, I just wanted to tell yo--"

But the signal was cut off and the picture turned grainy with empty pixels all of a sudden. The muffled aggression of bangs and kicks brought down the door of Taehyung's secluded bunker and a horde of his own inquisitors rushed in, driven by electricity, bloodthirst and imperial will. The cyborg was taken hold of.

His heavy body writhed in the intruders' grip, but to no avail. In the distance he overheard his former inferiors repeat the protocol of his detainment. Only one kind of seizure required the full unrelenting force of the Inquisition androids.

The one coming directly from the emperor.

As the Resistance soldiers advanced farther into the outer Core, the grip on their assault rifles weakened, wet from the heat accumulated, bewildered by the void of the empty powerhouse. The pulsating, current-pumping heart of Nypso operated under a dome of steam and titanium systems. In its veins surged the lifeblood of an entire civilization, the supreme vigor of the Nypsoian predatory machine and the technology behind its expansive aggression.

Today its heartbeat would flatline once and for all.

Jungkook carried a Proxima L-90 — a relevantly ugly, simple ray weapon meant to inflict moderate damage — with the back of it braced against his underarm, holding the shadows at gunpoint. His face burned under a filtering mask, yet the odds of being violently poisoned were too great to succumb to convenience. Fire in his ribs and steel in his brain, he moved forward.

The promised confrontation of the emperor's forces never happened. General Kim signalled for all units to stand down.

"The motion sensors show movement in our perimeter. 100 meters ahead, 50 sources," he whispered. "Charge your weapons."

But in Jungkook that sparked suspicion so bothersome it twisted his insides, made him want to vomit. Fifty defenders appointed at the most significant structure on the planet — something didn't seem — didn't feel — right. Yet his trust in Taehyung lay unquestioned. He'd spoken to him about a frontal attack and a frontal attack was to be. Nothing but those words could force him forward.

Nothing but the belief that today could change the universe forever.

A swarm of androids emerged from the depths of the powerhouse, wearing imperial armour. They imitated human forms, carried themselves in a human manner, but didn't hesitate in their stride, unlike the Resistance whose fear pierced it through. These were machines without faces, painted in the colors of war and destruction, forged with no soul and no purpose but murder; the inquisitors. And when they charged onwards, every being of flesh shivered in frail mortality. The androids opened immediate fire.

However, the fifty of them were not alone. More crawled out of the corners, the corridors, and every spot dark became a black portal spitting inquisitors. In seconds the Resistance forces were severely outnumbered.

Back against General Kim's, Jungkook tore apart enemies with ray projectiles with insufficient speed. Like demons from neon and metal, like nightmares flooding the innocent mind, the androids burst forth and immobilized the formation of the rebellion. Soon enough, the man was fighting machines with electrocuting blades and bare hands.

"I'm almost out of ammo. We need to get to the main generator and place the bomb," the General shouted as he shot an inquisitor's head through, thus releasing Jungkook from his grip.

"We gotta make our way through."

"I'll help with that!" With one arm immobilized and the other on the trigger of a close-range blaster, Min approached the two. His stubbornness had earned him a spot in the field forces today, but his injury must've weighed him down.

The captain, though, was a survivor.

"Run!" Min cried. "I'll blast whatever follows you."

Jungkook and the General sprinted forward that instant, too overwhelmed with gunfire and smoke and adrenaline to take in the sight of the captain relentlessly throwing himself into the crossfire. As they cleaved the imperial horde, as they fired and slashed their way through — fruits of the flesh in the unhomogenous battle broth — he held back their pursuers for as long as he could. The shrill vox of Min's blaster quietened while they ran, and so did the remainder of the fight, distant but heavy on the brain.

At some point, Jungkook found himself utterly lost in the hypnosis of metal and screams.

Kim snapped him out when they reached a dead end at a corridor intersection. The map led to a hatch in the floor, then to an underground space where the generator was located. When Jungkook pulled the horizontal door open, the General jumped onto the grated platform it revealed. Nightmarish shivers creeped under the former's skin as if on the brim of something horrible and irreversible. Something of monumental grandness, yet something hellbound had been released with their appearance in the Core. Unaware of its specifics, Jungkook descended shortly after, shaken by the feeling of death pricking on his bare nape.

"We have to be quick," General Kim whispered. "The bomb will create an electromagnetic pulse that will disarm all electric systems on the planet. It must be as close to the core as we can get it, so be prepared to do whatever it takes for this to work. Promise me that, Jungkook."

The man wanted to stutter, to assure his comrade that the Resistance is once again in luck and prevailing. But empty promises had no place in his head anymore. Rather, they belonged in the ashes of the man he used to be once; of the world he once used to live in. His answer came pure of all boyish naiveness.

"I promise, sir."

"Good. This way."

Monochrome light, combat boots against the platform. They travelled in silence and dark anticipation. The generator came in sight several meters after, oblivious in its lifeless shell of titanium and wire. The two men entered the holy premises of the inner Core like only heartsick worshippers would — with their heads craving redemption above all.

The bomb was wrapped in cloth — a hastily packaged weapon of mass destruction. The General stripped it bare. His face twitched in untimely satisfaction as he carried it to the top of the generator, whose size extended kilometers under the ground, highest point peaking through a cavity in the grates.

But as the General was activating the mechanism, a splashed, abstract pattern of his blood printed itself onto Jungkook, who remained paralyzed steps away. The laser projectile went right through Kim, exiting his torso clean of guilt and hesitation.

The younger pointed his gun at the distance, at the wide, half-human frame of the attacker, tears in his eyes as he came in the luminescent light.

"Jungkook, put the gun down, please--"

Buy everything within him screamed. "Stand back! I'm warning you! Stand back or I'll fucking shoot you."

Jungkook glanced at the sprawled body of General, eyes then set on Taehyung again. He went feral, wild with betrayal and shock that his mortal stomach could feast on for days. They held each other at gunpoint, lovers in the grip of a war unfought.

"Sir, stay with me. Just hold on."

"Jungkook, listen to me. Put your gun down. Now!"

"No, you listen to me! What have you done?! We've been fighting for this for so long and now that we have a chance to change everything, you turn against your own. We are on the same side, you fool! Help me save him!"

"I'm afraid I can't," Taehyung replied, voice stern like never before. "I can't help you anymore. I've done so much for humans and I've never been one, never will be. I am who I am and I've picked a side already. I picked the one I belong to."

"I thought we belonged together."

The bomb lay semi activated next to Kim. All that stood between it and Jungkook was his unwavering machine of a lover, the leader of the Inquisition with only half flesh, half heart. And neither of the two were willing to surrender now.

Not when the love of each was at stake.

"We can't both leave this room, Jungkook. One of us will have to shoot. It's either me or you on the count of three."

"I would've died and killed for you!"

"One."

"I wanted a future with you, Taehyung!"

"Two."

"I loved you!"

"Three. I still do."

And Jungkook collapsed, trapped between the corpses of his friend and lover, finger on the trigger that had failed to protect the former and ended the latter. Tears welled in his black eyes as he enabled the electromagnetic explosive.

The faith of the universe rested in his unsteady hands. His whole world, however, had fallen cold in his feet.

In the very last seconds of Nypso, he wished to have never set foot on the goddamned planet of death and destruction.

#bts #vkook #taekook #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #scifiandfantasy #oneshot #jungkook #taehyung #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts au fic #bts au fanfic #vkook au

[achristmasmovieaday]

A Movie for Christmas Day 2019

Enter the Dragon (1973)

Today’s themes: Kicking ass, Kicking butt, Kicking bums, Kicking derrieres, Kicking kiesters

The last James Bond film starring Daniel Craig will debut early next year, and a lot of people are wondering who the next James Bond will be. Now, personally, I am confused about how the James Bond films work as a whole. Is every new James Bond actor’s cycle of films meant as a replacement for the old James Bond? Are we ignoring that there was another Bond before this one, or are we supposed to pretend not to notice that this James Bond looks nothing like the last one? Or is it that James Bond is merely a name that gets used by different spies, none of whom are actually named James Bond but they all assume the title and the role and carry on as if they’re the only one and no one mentions the other one they replaced? 

In the current age of equal representation, and with a female Thor on the way and teenaged Ghostbusters and Scarlett Johansson playing an Asian superhero robot, some people want a not-another-white-guy to assume the role. Why can’t we see someone besides an Eton-educated rich white dude playing this iconic action hero? But I’m here to tell you that it already happened, and you can watch this James Bond film right now. It’s called Enter The Dragon (1973) and it stars Bruce Lee as James Bond, infiltrating a villainous lair on a secret island populated by an army of henchmen bent on something something something complete world supremacy.

The saddest thing about Enter The Dragon, which unequivocally made an international superstar out of Bruce Lee, is that Bruce Lee was already dead by the time the film was released. On a budget of $850,000, the film raked in $90 million, or half-a-billion US dollars when adjusted for inflation. Okay? Huge. Massive. A cultural phenomena. The second saddest thing was that American distributors were so afraid of releasing a film with an Asian star that it padded out the script by inserting a white guy (John Saxon) so as not to scare Kansas, and a black guy (Jim Kelly) in an attempt to cash in on the emerging Blaxploitation genre. But Lee was not only its star, he was also a producer and - I shit you not - as an established director in his own right, he personally filmed the first part of the film that sets up his own backstory (yes, originally this was about a bunch of dudes who show up on a island and fight each other and had no plot to speak of) and inserted it into the finished product before it was released.

When I say this is a James Bond film in everything but its name, I mean that. Here’s the plot, such as it is: Lee (Bruce Lee) is approached by British Intelligence to investigate Hong Kong crime lord Han by traveling to Han’s private island and participating in a martial arts competition and prove that Han is a drug trafficker and deals in prostitution. Before leaving, Lee discovers that his sister’s killer, O’Hara, works on the island as well. Making his way there, he meets old fighting buddies Roper (Saxon) and Williams (Kelly) on a junk. Then some stuff happens, kick, kick, slap, hit, kick, and it all ends up in an extended kung fu fight between Lee and Han in a hall of mirrors that’s pretty awesome considering we have to follow two actors in a room of reflections on reflections and never see the camera.

Literally everyone loved this film. The critics loved it. It showed in sold out theaters in Japan, India, France, and Germany. The soundtrack by Lalo Schifrin, who also wrote the theme to Mission: Impossible, went gold. A copy of the film is in the Library of Congress for its cultural significance. It’s said that this movie inspired Akira Toriyama to create the Dragon Ball manga series, and Goku’s piercing eyes were directly based on Lee’s own penetrating gaze.

Lee was already a superstar in Hong Kong and this was going to be his entry into the American film market. Warner Bros. spent over $1 million to promote it, and it gave birth to the martial arts craze in the U.S. Watching it now, it still retains the sexy charm and crazy cool athleticism that so many of today’s films aspire to. Without this film, there would be no Jackie Chan (who appears for a split second as a henchman) and no Matrix and no Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Plus it is, for my money, one of the best James Bond films ever released.

Watch now

#enter the dragon #bruce lee #movies #xmasdaymovies

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #1: Armand Hammer’s “Flavor Flav”

What are the Black purposes of space travel?

—Amiri Baraka, “Technology & Ethos”

Black futurism is a temporally troubled matrix Black futurism is a temporally troubled matrix that thrives on opposites and oppositions, flowing lines and nonlinearity, conflict resolution and asymmetrical warfare. It prefers the mad dash on shifting sands while in pursuit of higher ground and safe havens.

—Greg Tate, “Kalahari Hopscotch, or Notes Toward a 20 Volume History of Black Science and Afrofuturism”

Welcome aboard our spaceship, it’s so nice to have you here. —Newcleus, “Space is the Place”

Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day but      for all times, sees races, eras, dates, generations, The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable together. —Walt Whitman

I’m so tired of being forced to promote the myth of white supremacy by performing works by old white men like Whitman who said blacks...didn’t have a place in the future of America. —Timothy McNair

Today is the shadow of tomorrow, today is the future present of yesterday, yesterday is the shadow of today. —Sun Ra, “Secrets of the Sun”

This highly allusive track from billy woods and ELUCID toys with itself—that is, allusions are a figurative means of collapsing time in and of themselves. Past and present history & culture don’t contend so much as support one another. A set of stilts to do the Dance of Death on, if you will. “Start downhill running.” The Seventh Seal hilltop silhouette danse macabre steez, though. The whooshing, metal-creaking beat—with all its haunted psithurism charm—is the backdrop for this sleeper Shrines track.

The name “Flavor Flav” is used metonymically here to mean time. This isn’t a braggadocio, low-key threat in the spirit of OC’s “Time’s Up.” This isn’t a Grandmaster Flashian “You Know What Time It Is” (though the hands on the clock tower do spin clockwise and counter-). Neither is this a Kool Moe Dee-esque rhetorical “Do You Know What Time It Is?” Armand Hammer are frustrated by time, by the “ideals and dreams that don’t work.” woods laments his “time machine [that] don’t go backwards.” This no-good lemon of a H.G. Wells contraption he’s steering. This isn’t some Christopher Lloyd-cum-El-Producto Delorean. There’s no Great Scotting going on, just stubbornness.

Progress isn’t made. Time stagnates. Like the “list of ill-fated quick licks under ’frigerator magnets.” And that “school trip permission slip”—likely a bus ride to a museum: a carefully curated collection of artifacts, most notable for its colonial muscling. The question remains: What is left out? What is excluded? What is ignored, discarded, or co-opted so as to not withstand the test of time? woods’ short-i assonance speeds the delivery up only to slow it down:

list | ill | quick | licks | ’frig | nets | trip | mis | slip | lick | split | skin | spliff

billy woods, son of a revolutionary, redefines Afrofuturism (re-re-re-defines—its brilliance is in how it remakes itself unconditionally). Afrofuturism becomes about birthing the next generation of Black revolutionaries, so he subverts the line and expectations when “big hand captured” refers to the clock, but “little man [not hand] chasin’” refers to a youngin. (Try to keep up.) Put the faith in the youth when our “ideals and dreams” stall out—when the days, months, years are fleeting and forceful (“It do tick faster / The hour coming rough”). The spliff that’s “[skinned] like an onion” turns the cypher into Perrault fairy tale “pumpkin,” Cinderella style.

“Don’t come ’round with that ‘Go slow’” is in conversation with Nina Simone’s “Mississippi Goddam,” of course. It’s Nina who said “[she] can’t stand the pressure much longer,” who objected to those who “keep on saying ‘Go slow,” who had her band ironically chanting Do it slow. billy woods, like Nina Simone, decries reformism, incrementalism. Don’t do things gradually. We’re at the point where Nina stands up from her piano bench and shouts That’s it!

Forego the telephoto lenses, he insists, this is the “Battle of Algiers with the GoPro.” Urban guerrilla warfare uploaded and disseminated via YouTube. Again, time collapses. The struggle to decolonize continues. Watch for the This video is no longer available dead-end.

billy woods’ Nietzschean “loathing and fear” reverses the hallucinogenic time-warp of Thompson’s (and, in filmic relation, Gilliam’s) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. “History is hard to know,” Thompson writes, “because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of ‘history’ it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash.” That flash will reappear in ELUCID’s verse.

If “all roads lead to Rome,” we’re settling into the inevitability of our moves. It’s a fatalistic shrug, but homophonically, all roads lead to roam—that is, the journey is prolonged interminably. It’s nomadic. Much static. So, naturally, you’re going to “[shake] the hourglass like a snowglobe,” distort time, and splurge on the “JC Penny Timex,” which is appropriately “flooded with rhinestones.” Flooded, because no more water: the fire next time. Don’t “lose track” and don’t “get trapped in the future.”

The chorus quotes the Rolling Stones’ “Time is On My Side,” but it ain’t that simple, no. The history is as messy as we’ve come to expect amerikan music to be. “Time is On My Side” was originally penned by Norman Meade (Jerry Ragovoy), and trombonist Kai Winding first recorded it. Jimmy Norman, a Black songwriter, fleshed out the lyrics significantly, and Irma Thomas recorded that version in the same year as the Stones. The song followed a path similar to that of “Strange Fruit”—a composition written by a white Jewish man under a pseudonym (Abel Meeropol as Lewis Allan) but popularized by a Black female jazz singer (Billie Holiday). As author Jess Row has said about jazz—hip-hop applies, too—it is “by its very nature multi-racial, intermingled, and collaborative across color lines.” But this cognizance must always be contextualized with views of Black artists like that of Art Blakey: “the only way the Caucasian musician can swing is from a rope.” Hip-hop has always had its Paul Cs and Rick Rubins, but the racial heterogeneity of a genre, or even a single recording, can’t cloak the power dynamics still in play. The Stones’ version of “Time is On My Side”—undoubtedly the most popular version—is a rip-off of Irma Thomas’ version. Mick Jagger even jacks Thomas’ ad-libs, which is to say, her rawness and spontaneity. Even the band’s shadowed faces on the cover of 12 x 5, the album on which the track appears, suggest the racial problematics, the minstrelsy heist. Armand Hammer mock the British Invasion blues filchers by adding “they” to the chorus line: “They said time is on my side.” They being white institutions (especially within music publishing, production, and recording industries) who promised enough airtime for everyone. They who urged patience. (Go slow!) But, as history shows, the profits only lined certain pockets.

ELUCID begins at the “golden hour,” which is both the photogenic beauty of the sky after sunrise and before sunset—a beauty too good to behold. It’s the sun glare shining in your face on the winter commute from work. It’s your high-speed accident and then the golden hour is the paramedics and doctors trying to salvage your corporeal existence. ELUCID’s verse is a hypnagogic jerk, gasping for breath as he takes a “portal to Orangeburg, ’68.” It’s a reference to the campus shooting of young people in protest—South Carolina State University. Unlike Kent State, which came afterwards, Orangeburg didn’t get the attention keening white women in Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs do, despite “live ammunition,” three dead, 28 injured, and “nine acquitted assassins.” Unnoticed. Black invisibility. Not that H.G. Wells type of invisibility—the Ralph Ellison kind.

We’re told what this is: it’s the aggregate stress (“the load of the allostatic”) of Black life. It’s one’s personal Extinction Agenda, the “post-traumatic” of the gunfire “flashes” that double as flashbacks. The pain, stress, the brain that can’t rest, the pressure on the chest.

“The center won’t hold” lets us know this isn’t all PTSD reverie—it’s a rebel poem: surely some revolution is at hand. ELUCID channels Achebe channeling Yeats. Things might fall apart but not without struggle. The “Flavor Flav clock spins centrifugal,” as a gyre, as an apocalyptic (91…) voice. Turning and returning. The words have an air of insurrection, proclamation.

He misses “watching how a flat circle fold”—it won’t budge, won’t wrinkle. We’ve been here before: on “Hunter,” on Paraffin, when billy woods was on that “time is a flat circle” shit. That Nietzsche eternal recurrence shit:

What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: “This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain…will return to you. […] The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!

“Can you find the level of difficulty in this?” suggests game playing, arcades. Calls to mind more Walter Benjamin’s Arcades, though. billy woods and ELUCID are gleaners and magpies of cultural cadavers in Benjamin’s way. Their bars are play and critique both. We’re left with a modicum of optimism at the song’s end. Even “only [moving] the pen six inches” is something, is struggle. The “pale faces beyond the fire” are ever-present, though. The “flinching, panic, [and] confusion” are committed to continue.

Is it the fool or the insurgent who thinks time is on their side? We want the life we live to be “more brilliant than a sunbeam.” That’s to say, we don’t want to wait for the golden hour or the golden years. We want what they say we can’t have. We want what they say we shouldn’t imagine. But Armand Hammer helps us take solace in the “drum skin stretched”—the rhythm, the rebel. The oft-quoted Douglass gem, If there is no struggle, there is no progress, is played out for a reason. The reason is because it needs to be played again, and again. Like a mantra, like a song.

Images:

Sun Ra’s Space is the Place (screenshot) | Flavor Flav (detail), courtesy of archivist Sean Stewart | Grandmaster Flash “You Know What Time It Is” music video (screenshot) | Kool Moe Dee “Do You Know What Time It Is?” single cover | Nina Simone live at Antibes Juan-les-Pins Jazz Festival 1965 (screenshot) | The Battle of Algiers (screenshot) | The Rolling Stones 12 x 5 album cover | Flavor Flav, courtesy of Stewart

[michael-radi-the-glamorous-life]

In Review: "Oklahoma!"

The first time I saw Oklahoma! live was at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario, Canada (in 2006?). I remember turning to my parents and saying:

“That was fantastic, and they really didn’t stray away from the dark part of the show. I don’t think I ever need to see this show again!”

All of this to say that, when the recent St. Ann’s Warehouse production of Oklahoma! first caused a stir at the Warehouse and then again in its move to Circle In The Square, I did not feel the need nor desire to run to see it. I had seen it onstage twice, plus the two filmed versions, and how different could it really be?

So I waited…until last weekend. The second-to-last performance. (How’s that for procrastination?!)

So, was it all that different?

Well, no. But yes? And also really no.

Don’t Throw Bouquets at Me

Most of what I’ve heard people say about this production were things like:

“It’s so dark!"“

“It’s really different!”

“They did some cool, but strange things with it.”

“They took it in a completely new direction.”

“I’ll never see Oklahoma! the same way again!”

“You have to see it. You would appreciate it.”

Some of this I agree with, but some of it I very much do not.

Let’s tackle the idea that this production of Oklahoma! was particularly (thematically) dark: Yes, but no darker than any production of this show really should be.

It seems to me that either - with the number of people whose minds were blown by the production’s darkness - many people had not ever seen Oklahoma! onstage, or just were not aware of the content of the show. But let us not forget - early musical theatre was all dark. It’s written into the DNA of the genre: There is disturbing content (usually intentional, sometimes not) between and underneath all the glitz, glamor, and show tunes.

Examples:

Show Boat - Racism, Prejudice, Abandonment

Carousel - Domestic Abuse, Murder

South Pacific - Racism, Tokenism, War

The King And I - Racism, Colonialism

The Sound Of Music - …I mean, it’s set against the backdrop of Nazism…

And these are just Rodgers/Hart and Rodgers/Hammerstein musicals! Once you start including Lerner & Lowe, Comden & Green, and Kander & Ebb you get more murder, classicism, racism, misogyny, mob mentality, white supremacy, white saviorism, colonialism, capitalism, and so much more.

Now, to be fair, many writers included these themes specifically to subvert them - it’s a large part of why the piece was written (whether or not they accomplished their goal). But it’s undeniable that dark themes have been part of the tradition of musical theatre since its very inception.

Which brings us back to Oklahoma!

This production did not specifically add in dark elements to the story - they already existed. These themes include:

Murder

Rape

Toxic Masculine Behavior

White Male Entitlement

White Privilege

Racism

Misogyny

Mob Mentality

Intentional Othering

Community Crime Cover-Up

Excessive/Irresponsible Gun Usage

White Expansionism/”Manifest Destiny”

Violence or Threatened Violence Used to end Disagreement

And more

What I think this production did brilliantly was something that was ultimately a simple idea, but probably very technically difficult to thread throughout the entire production: They stripped the show of it shiny, musical theatre veneer and let the subtext become the text.

It was very effective.

Don’t Laugh at My Jokes Too Much

What I loved the most about it’s blatant stripping of the musical-theatre-genre-crutch was how often in the show the characters were all just sitting down in chairs spread across the stage, speaking in matter-of-fact tones.

Musical theatre so often relies on stage business, larger-than-life personalities, big voices, over-the-top movements, music, and choreography to provide the “entertainment” side of the evening, all the while hoping that the underlying messages of the show don’t then become lost on the audience.

Oklahoma! took no chances here. When the darkness of the scenes’ text, subtext, or situations were paramount, they stripped all of those other elements away, leaving you to sit with exactly what was being presented to you.

This worked so well that, during intermission and as I was leaving the theatre, I heard people saying things like:

“Is that how it’s always done?”

“Wait, what did they change?”

“There’s no way that’s the actual text.”

But it is! This production just made sure you did not forget it.

Now, that’s not to say that the production didn’t lean into the lighter moments of the show and bring out the comedy, dance, and fun - it totally did. BUT, often the laughter was tentative.

Why?

Much of the humor in Oklahoma! is based upon racist and misogynistic assumptions and, amongst the rest of the stripped down show, you could not laugh your way around that. This was awesome to behold across the audience. (Disclaimer: Not all of the humor is in this vain, and these performers were truly funny.)

The stripping down idea was so pervasive in the show that - at 2 separate moments - there were scenes in complete darkness.

And a couple other times the only light was coming from the live, projected images of the onstage camera capturing the hauntingly intimate moments.

Your senses were heightened, and there was no escaping the show’s text. It was very well done.

Don’t Sigh and Gaze at Me

The sound design was brilliant.

I’m not sure I can stress enough how fantastic the sound design for this show was.

The sporadic and intentional use of handheld mics, live stand mic/monitor setups, wireless mics, no mics, sudden live gunfire, and traveling sound across a circle of rumbling speakers was effective, intelligent, and well-executed.

Additionally, the orchestration was great. I hadn’t been a fan any time I had heard the show performed on award shows or morning shows, but when played live - in the room as intended - the balance was excellent and it added a grounded modernity to the show.

The lighting often confused me.

Some of the choices were beautiful and made a lot of sense: The light for the Act 2 opening dance sequence, the use of the party string lights, having full house lights on for the top of the show, and the pure darkness scene choices.

But then other choices seemed very random and without meaning or intention. Though, perhaps these choices were simply lost on me.

For instance, I was never sure what the intent was behind the full-stage washes of lime green and burnt orange. They seemed to be randomly placed throughout the show. I was also not a fan of taking the entire theatre from pure darkness to full stage and house lights in ~30 fade-ins. This might be due to my light sensitivity though.

The set was purely appropriate and quite effective.

I loved the pervasive wooden look of the entire show. The use of the chairs and tables was excellent. And adorning the walls with rifles was a great touch - not letting you forget what this show is really about.

All in all, the production elements really helped deliver the vision of this production, and often enhanced it far beyond my expectations.

People Will Say We’re In Love

It’s entirely possible that you may gather from this review that I loved the show.

Well, I enjoyed it and I’m glad I saw it.

It was not the mind-blowing experience for me that it seemed to be for many - though this is probably because of that Stratford production I saw in high school that clued me in to the realities of musical theatre’s pervasive dark side.

But I did think it was excellently done and well worth seeing! I appreciate what this production did, and I’m sure I’ll never see an Oklahoma! quite like that ever again.

Only one more comment about the production itself:

Yes, Curly is not a good guy. In fact, no one in this show can be considered a “good guy” - they all have tremendous flaws that negate their more endearing, sympathetic, or empathetic qualities, and can leave you feeling both empty and disgusted.

The choice to change the wedding fight at the end was, in my opinion, not necessarily more effective than having Judd go after Curly openly. It accomplished the same ideas - Judd still threatens by coming to the wedding and bringing a gun, and Curly and Laurey both still want him dead, and everyone is still relieved to have had the excuse to be rid of him. Yay mob justice.

So the change still got the job done. But I remain unconvinced that it was oh-so-different or more effective.

Anywho!

If you missed this one, I would highly suggest (even if just for research) making a trip to TOFT at some point to give it a gander.

OK?

#glamorous life blog #glamorous life #In Review #Oklahoma! #Broadway #Circle In The Square #revival #St. Ann's Warehouse #dark #theme #element #theatre #theater #musical #musical theatre

[fanfictionfrom-nonfan]

KAMIKAZE

Genre: Angst

Dystopia!AU Jimin x Reader

November, 2057

It only takes a moment for the future of the Earth to be completely altered. It took the President of the United States forty-seven minutes to surrender to the Red Bullet forces, thirty-two for the UN to yield, nineteen for the rest of the United Kingdoms to capitulate to a new supremacy and within ten minutes, the Red Bullet forces had set their camps throughout the globe, not giving any nation a chance to change their minds.

Not that it was possible.

They said it was ‘for the sake of mankind’ and that we were wasting resources by trading so they thought they’d make it easier for the world by centralising leadership, resources and manpower. Meaning, they’d depose the governments, take over everything we owned and strip us off our jobs until they decide what they could do to us.

But the nature of things is that if there was power, there would be an opposing force and it didn’t take long for y/n to join the Green Movement.

The Green Movement was a youth led rebellion against the new leaders and with the hot-bloodedness of young people and their raging hormones, their numbers soared. They felt oppressed, they felt like they needed to do something. Very soon, anyone below thirty who wasn’t part of it were deemed ‘slaves of the new world’.

It was an organisation where only the leaders knew what was going on, however. Many of the grassroots were in it for the thrill and pressure to do something about the sudden change without thinking. A lot of blind hatred for the Red Bullet were spread but when they started rationing basic necessities like salt and water, these youths took to the streets to protest.

It didn’t work, obviously.

Their angry cries were simply ignored and when they grew cold, tired, hungry and weak, they crawled back to their homes with tails beneath their legs.

January, 2059

By the end of the next year, the way the world work really wasn’t the way things were before the takeover. The internet had become a highly controlled community despite its incredible advancements. Sure, the speed of the internet and its data capacity was far beyond imaginable levels since pre-takeover, but network bugs were everywhere, sniffing for traces of rebellion among citizens of the Red Bullet Order. Food supplies were still being rationed, so was petrol and every day-use products like paper or medicine. Vehicles for regular use were controlled and public transport became redundant, now that people were divided into towns that were defined by the kind of work the people there did. People never needed to travel far to work anymore, they could simply walk and all these was a part of the ‘Active Living Scheme’, they said, and environmentally friendly too. Needless to say, people all over the world were uprooted to join these ‘work homes’ they were allocated to.

One such man was a Korean genius, Kim Namjoon, who was taken from his hometown in Seoul, South Korea, to India, Asia’s Silicon Valley. His own country had turned into a giant Artificial Intelligence and Organ developmental center and he knew that the only way he could help the rest of humanity regain some of their freedom was to take charge of the World Wide Web and he did just that. He had gained the trust of his superiors and he learned fast too. Soon he was able to control other computers from his own- he had the freedom of having his own to use, without the surveillance of the bugs and he even programmed a virus like software that could hide an entire computer browser from the view of any spyware.

And since he was made Head of the Red Bullet Internet Security Team, there wasn’t very much he’d need to hide.    

It didn’t take him long to find some of his fellow Green Movement comrades online and overrode their computers with the software and very soon, Green Movement activists around the world were back into action. He had created a platform for them to exist.

Then a flurry of activity online happened. Within weeks, teenagers and adults alike had formed ranks within their organisation and divided themselves into various groups. Some groups took it upon themselves to do work strikes, some who held aviation jobs formed a union that made it a point to ruin the flying experience of any member of the Red Bullet, and some extremists formed mass suicide groups, believing that the Red Bullet’s power only existed because there were people to control. Yet, everything was done in a childish manner. These minor atrocities did briefly catch the attention of the leaders but they were swiftly ignored. It didn’t matter to them that a bunch of losers were dying or that some people didn’t want to do their jobs. They had new members joining their order each they, in numbers that exceeded those of the trouble makers.    

July, 2060

It was a Green Movement ‘special team’, cleverly disguised as a prayer group that y/n had found herself a part of in the summer of 2060. At first, she joined wanting to seek a spiritual calm amidst the sudden oppression. Her job as a typists required her to get up at 6am in the morning and walk to the media station situated in Beijing, China, about a kilometer from her house and to type and transcribe whatever came through from the headquarters in Washington D.C. until she left work at 5pm. Lunch breaks were flexible but she had daily deadlines to meet so she ate when she could. Then whatever work was left, she could take back to the comfort of her own home and her personal computer where she held conversations with her Green Movement peers every night. They were a small union with around fifteen members had a private chat group where they conversed with each other. The leader was Park Jimin, a gentle looking Korean man, who was also situated in Beijing, as a music transcriber and so was his cousin, Jeon Jungkook. They had been lucky enough to have been allocated in the same town and the two of them shared an apartment just two kilometers away from her own place (or so that’s what google maps told her). She had never met the cousins although they lived near her but she spoke with them every night for at least two hours before she went to bed.

She would be lying, though, if she said that she didn’t have any thoughts of one day actually meeting them. They had hit off really well, even more than the other members of their group chat and it seemed that the feelings were mutual when Jimin messaged her privately one night.

It started off awkwardly. After all, all their conversations had always been public and never too intimate. They would usually encourage each other with prayer or shared Beijing’s condition and how their lives as transcribers in a foreign land was like to the other members or talk about their lives before the takeover and the most intimate thing they’d done was sharing selfies when they were bored. Nothing was too personal.

“Can we talk?”

Before she could reply to that, another message arrived.

“I feel like you’re my closest friend here.”

He was being so honest, she found it hard to keep herself from smiling. She was really nervous too, he felt so serious even though she couldn’t directly see him.

“Sure.”

A one worded answer. She hoped that he didn’t think she was crude so she quickly sent a second one.

“I’m happy to listen. ☺”

The smiley was very crucial.

And he talked. He told her how he felt, having to do the same meaningless routine of waking up, going to work, coming home and the cycle repeated itself. Heck, he no longer found any meaning to waking up anymore. In the beginning, he lived for Jungkook. But now Jungkook had become so much part of the routine he lived through stiffly each passing day. He hated the Red Bullet for making him feel that way and himself even more for even feeling this way towards his own cousin.

“All of a sudden I’ve got nothing I love anymore and it scares me, y/n.”

It came as a surprise to her as Jimin was their leader. He was the agony aunt to anyone who needed advice, he was everyone’s listening ear and he cheered for all of them endlessly. Then it dawned on her. Who was his comfort? Who could he turn to when he needed help?

“I feel so helpless.”

October, 2060

It took them four months to realise that they should meet up and they do, one night after work at a Green Movement run restaurant, hidden at an apartment just a few blocks away from their respective workplaces. They were nearer each other than they’d thought. Since food was rationed throughout the world, these restaurants only existed because of the Green Movement activists that worked in the Food Control department of Eastern Asia. Somehow, with another software, courtesy of Kim Namjoon, they could arrange the food stores, managed by a computerised program, to be delivered to the home of a Spanish retired chef who was allowed to remain in retirement. He was far too old to be a part of the Green Movement but he thourougly supported his son’s involvement in the rebel organisation. He didn’t like, though, the fact that Juan had been sent to Asia to type when he held a master’s degree in Spanish Literature.

Jimin had turned up at the entrance of  the media station in a borrowed car and a suit, promptly at 5.05pm. His job as a musical transcriber had more flexible hours and they could leave anytime they were done but it was precisely this freedom that had made him realise there was no longer any life in the cities outside of their work desks.

“I’d have brought flowers if I could but they don’t ration those. I hope you don’t mind this instead.” He grinned and held out a paper rose.

He looked just like his photographs, the same gentle yet alluring eyes and adorable cheeks and his smile. Y/n could’ve sworn she felt her heart skip a beat when he opened the car door for her with the happiest smile she’s seen in a while.

“I’ve always preferred Korean food but beggars can’t be choosers eh?” His smile had never left his face in the entire time they’ve been together so far. It was almost hard to believe that this smiley man was the same man who had nothing but sadness in his words that they’ve exchanged over a computer if not for the hint of despondency in the tone of his voice.

“It’s actually really nice, though. So much better than whatever I’ve been eating.” She digs into her prawns dipped in garlic aioli but her gaze never really leaving the man in front of her. He scoops paella into her empty plate.

“Can’t complain when I’ve been eating overcooked rice for the past year. Jungkook and I have never really figured out how to use the cooker.”

“How can you mess up making rice?” she laughs.

“Is that bad? Jungkook tried to fry an egg with the microwave once.”

February, 2061

It was a routine by then, to meet each other once a week. But Jimin hated routine so on some days, he’d show up just as she’d knocked off from work without any notice on his bicycle and some sandwiches and he’d take them to a scenic spot by the river where they stayed until the sun set and on other days, he’d turn up at her house suddenly with coffee, blankets and movie recommendations and sometimes, he’d take her to the mall (he calls them ration centers) where he’d use up a few of his ration tokens on dresses and shoes he liked on her.  

But her favourite was always the days he’d show up after a long day of work on his bike and they’d remain silent through the journey to his place. Words didn’t need to be exchanged. All Jimin needed wasn’t anymore sound. He’d had enough of that at work all day. What he wanted- no, needed was her cheek against his shoulders and her arms firmly around his waist as he took the longer route back to his apartment.

Jungkook welcomed her visits too. He hated the monotony of his life. As much as he loved music, having to face so many tunes in a day, everyday, almost made him lose the passion he had for making his own music.

“You’re here! I was getting bored. Maybe I should go find my own girlfriend too.” He joked. He was two years younger than his older cousin but he held a higher post in the Music Transcription center than Jimin did. His job was a music researcher and had the luxury of listening to as many kinds of music he wanted unlike Jimin who was often stuck with one song for the rest of the week. Especially if it was a symphony orchestra. He hated symphonies.

“You can, you just don’t want to. Doesn’t the Red Bullet groupie called Alice or something have a crush on you?” Jimin asks, not really looking for an answer as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for something to feed themselves.

“She’s a red. I’m a green.”

No one dares to fall in love nowadays and y/n counts herself lucky as Jimin tackles her into the couch with overnight tacos in his hand and Jungkook jumping of his side of the sofa with a yelp.

November, 2062

“There isn’t really any point in living, you know.” Jimin types into the group chat one day. By now, the number of members in the union had grown into a sizeable army of 600 youths. Within seconds, a hundred different people from all around the world respond, agreeing with him.

It shocks y/n when she opens her messages but that message was quickly buried by the onslaught of replies and she question’s if she actually saw it at all.

“Jimin, what was that?” she asks him privately over chat.

“Just saying how I feel. I mean, don’t you feel that way? I’ve been at this fucking job for three years now. Jungkook is a researcher. I’m a bloody transcriber. You too, don’t you ever get sick of it?”

She does, of course. She hates her job with every bone in her body but she doesn’t feel angry because she knows at least she has him.

“In this life, what do we have? We have a God? But he isn’t doing anything. At least when we die, we might get to see him. Or not. But it’s better than being a slave on this earth.”

She doesn’t dare reply.

“The best thing I have is you and I love you so much, and I feel like utter crap every time I realise I don’t have anything nice to give to you. I can’t provide you with a comfortable life away from the hell hole you’re stuck in, I can’t take you out on nice dates under a candle light, I can’t show you how much you really mean to me, I can’t even make you proud of me.”

She wants to shout at him that he’s being stupid and that everything he does, she knows it’s for her and she knows, she knows how much he loves her and she can feel it. She wants to yell that she doesn’t need fancy gifts and expensive dates because all she needs is really just him and his presence.

But she’s suddenly afraid because this Jimin wasn’t the Jimin she thought she knew. She’s scared of this stranger and the words he’s saying with her boyfriend’s online chat account.

She goes back to read their group chat and she finds that they’ve renamed their group ‘The Kamikaze’. It’s too late.

December, 2062

From that day on, it had been a downward spiral. Jimin stopped smiling, he stopped trying to get through the days, he stopped trying to make her happy, he stopped trying to make him happy. Every time she visited him, he’d only swear at himself for making her take the trouble.

“But you’re not even trying!” she once cried.

“What’s there to try for? There is nothing at the end of the road for us.”

She leaves his apartment, half outraged, half broken-hearted.

January, 2063

He shows up at her doorstep past midnight, in a complete wreck.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He stares at her with such lifelessness in his eyes. But she wondered if he was actually back when he falls into her embrace. Like the old times, he stays the night and they don’t leave each others’ arms until her alarm clock knocks the peace out of the house.

February, 2063

“I want to leave this place.” He tells her very matter of factly. “Will you leave with me?”

“Of course.” She says with a laugh, just to humour him. “Wherever you’ll go, I’ll come with you.” He smiles back with assurance and laces their fingers together and he waits for her to fall asleep first, on his bed. It was her turn to stay over at his, just like how they’ve done two springs ago. With his free hand, he brushes the stray strands of hair off her face and pulls the covers over the both of them before he too, falls asleep.

“You’re beautiful, my love.”

March, 2063

He meant it when he said he was going to leave.

“Love, I don’t want to carry on like this anymore. It’s torture.” He said those words with such pain in his voice that y/n begins to feel the suffocation he feels too. Her insides scream at her to stop, however.

Their group chat numbers had increased again but more than three hundred of the members were no longer active. They had went on with the plan hatched by their leader. To end their suffering, to hell with the Red Bullet and for the better of the world.

“Today, a hundred and fifty of our brave fighters have carried out their mission successfully,” Jimin writes, “It is time I did my duty. As your leader I will lead by example. After that, Jungkook will carry on our legacy.”

Y/n removes herself from the chat group.

Mid-April, 2063

“For the greater good of the world?” she whispers but the absurdity of her words make her howl with laughter. She doesn’t know what’s right or what’s wrong anymore. She never minded living out those long days with short nights because she knew he was always around to wipe her tears. He was willing to pluck the stars in the sky for her and that was all she needed to know. But here was a man who stood on a ladder with that very ambition but lost his footing and fell way down.

Now he was broken and no amount of healing would fix him.

“Yes, I’d say that’s it.” He smiles at her with the very smile she received the very first day they met. It’s chilling, it makes her heart leap and she falls in love with him all over again.

Late-April, 2063

His hands take hers, so delicately and he pulls her close, his eyes boring into her skull and his lips, ever so sweetly take hers with his and she finds herself heavy lidded and drunk on his touch, how softly he traces patterns onto her back, how firmly, yet not hard enough to hurt her, he holds her waist.

“I love you, so, so, much.” He breathes when he breaks away from her but then rests his forehead against hers, his eyes shut.

“It’s time for us to leave.” He takes her hand again and guides her to his bicycle where she sits at the place she’s all too familiar with, with her cheek against his shoulder and her arms around his waist and they take the long route back to her house.

“We’ll never need to part again.” He smiles, and it’s the brightest she’s ever seen, ever. There isn’t a sadness in his voice, his eyes are gleaming and worry-free and this is the first time she’s seen him so relaxed and happy.

When they reach her place, he picks her up into his arms and takes her to the bed. The whole place smells of peaches and almonds. He puts her down and joins her, holding her against him like how they’ve always done. He intertwines their fingers and rests his head against her.

And just like always, he makes it hard to breath.

His soft kisses made her dizzy.

And her heart leaps.

And then he takes her breath away.

And he’s gone with her.

Fin.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #bts x y/n #jungkook #namjoon #jimin angst #re-up

[rapuvdayear]

2000: “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” 50 Cent (Trackmaster Ent./Columbia)

It’s been over a year since I teased the idea of doing a post about my favorite 50 Cent tracks, so I guess now is as good a time as ever to get around to it! 

With the exception of maybe Kanye, I can’t think of another rapper with more raw talent whose career has been more disappointing. Obviously both Ye and Fiddy have been monstrously successful, but IMO they either burned brightly before descending into white supremacy apologia (Kanye) or never achieved their best possible trajectory (50). It’s not an accident to put them together in this way, either; just 12 years ago next month they faced off in what turned out to be a very underwhelming battle over whose album would sell better (this was back when album sales, not streaming numbers, still meant something). In many ways, it was a crossroads for each artist: Kanye dropped what I believe was his magnum opus, then followed it up with his fourth-best album, third-best album, and second-best album, before dropping off a cliff, while 50′s release basically removed him from the conversation about who was relevant in rap (“My Gun Go Off” and “I Get Money” are honorable mentions for the list below, but otherwise Curtis is entirely forgettable). 

These days, 50 has gone the Ice Cube route and is probably more recognizable as an actor than as a rapper. So, it’s hard to remember that once upon a time he was the savior of gangsta rap and (co-)author of one of the 25 greatest albums of all time. He beat the odds to survive a shooting, link up with the two heaviest hitters (at the time) in the rap game, and even be included on some GOAT lists. He also essentially established the “flood the streets with mixtapes before your album drops” strategy of self-promotion that Gucci, Weezy, and even Drake would follow in the days before Soundcloud was the go-to resource for building a rep. He singlehandedly destroyed a rival’s career, launched a clothing line, video game, and music label, and made a halfway-decent biopic. And then... he just sort of petered out. 

But! 50 is also responsible for some of my all-time favorite raps, which is why it’s so frustrating to me that he never lived up to the buzz surrounding him back in 2003. These are my five favorites, listed chronologically, with some commentary:

1) “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” (2000) Before the G-Unit days and before Eminem and Dre helped launch him to superstardom, Curtis Jackson was an up and coming rapper from Queens who had attracted the attention of another rap legend, Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay. A mutual friend introduced 19 year-old 50 to Jay back in 1996, and the veteran producer/DJ gave him a crash course in how to write songs and signed him to his fledgling label. The business relationship didn’t work out, but it helped lead 50 to Columbia Records’ Trackmasters imprint where he recorded Power of the Dollar in 1999. However, this debut album would never see the light of day after 50 was shot nine times while sitting in a friend’s car and subsequently dropped by Columbia. In the wake of the shooting--and then later, after 50 blew the fuck up in 2003--it became a sort of “lost cult classic” among rap fans. “How To Rob” got the most attention at the time, a funny-yet-vicious song demonstrating 50′s hunger through fantasies about sticking up famous rappers and R&B stars (the song was also clearly an homage to Biggie’s unreleased “Dreams,” and provoked an oblique diss from Ghostface). But “Ghetto Qu’ran” has had a more lasting impact, primarily because of how it was rumored to be the source of 50′s shooting, Jam Master Jay’s murder, and the Ja Rule/Murder Inc. beef. While all of that intrigue is important to rap lore, it distracts from the fact that it’s a near perfect rap song from a technical perspective: a catchy hook, a fantastic beat and sample, an effortless flow, and a well-crafted story that is equal parts celebration of the Queens underworld and subtle shots at street legends. Seriously, this is akin to what traveling bards used to do in medieval Europe, what poets in Ancient Greece wrote, what west African griots did/do, and what narcocorrido artists do now. If you want to learn about the Supreme Team, Pappy Mason, the Corley Family, and the Rich Porter/Alpo crew in Harlem, then this is a good place to start; as 50 puts it, “consider this the first chapter of the ghetto’s Qu’ran.” The secondary title to this track--“Forgive Me”--has a double meaning now. It was initially a plea to forgive 50 for the pain he caused in his criminal life but in retrospect an appeal to the figures whose names he drops. Also, it’s interesting to listen to this first and then compare 50′s voice with the next four tracks: this was recorded before the shooting, which left a bullet fragment lodged in his tongue that affected his speech and gave him his now-distinctive flow.    

2) “Heat” (2003) There are several standouts on Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (“Many Men,” “Back Down,” “What Up Gangsta,” “Patiently Waiting,” and “Poor Lil’ Rich” spring to mind, and I will always love “21 Questions” for the “I love you like a fat kid loves cake” line alone) but this one has always been my fave. It’s a perfect distillation of the image that 50 was trying to project when he burst onto the scene: a hood-hardened gangster who wouldn’t hesitate to do his enemies harm. And given his recent history, you could believe him, too! There’s really nothing about this song that should be praised in any way, but I’ve been thinking about the gravity of the following line a lot in the past month or so: “The summertime is a killing season/ It’s hot out this bitch, that’s a good enough reason.” Also, 50′s boast “the DA can play this motherfucking tape in court” *has* to be one of the inspirations behind this great Key & Peele sketch, right? 

3) “A Baltimore Love Thing” (2005) The Massacre was incredibly disappointing on the whole. I can remember clearly sitting around with my friends in a dorm room at the Shoreland listening to it all the way through the day that it dropped, wanting to love it but slowly realizing that it wasn’t going to live up to our expectations. “Ski Mask Way” could be an honorable mention on this list, and “Piggy Bank” is kind of funny, but otherwise it’s a steaming pile of shit. “Baltimore Love Thing,” though, is a masterpiece. It’s incredibly dark, rapped from the perspective of heroin itself (sort of like what Nas’s “I Gave You Power” does for guns) in order to detail the destruction that addiction--and, by extension, drug trafficking--leaves in its wake. Even more fucked up, 50-as-heroin voices an abusive partner addressing a woman, threatening her should she ever try to leave him. For my money, “You broke my heart, you dirty bitch, I won’t forget what you did/ If you give birth, I’ll already be in love with your kids” is one of the coldest lines in the annals of rap, full stop. In the second verse, he switches to the flip side of an abuser’s mindset: “I never steer you wrong, if you hyper I make you calm/ I’ll be your incentive, your reason for you to move forward.” All in all, it’s a great concept song that shows off 50′s range as a rapper... and is a testament to what he could have been.

4) “Hustler’s Ambition” (2005) Goddamn, I fucking love everything about this song! The beat is fantastic (great sample, btw), prefiguring the sound on a future great mixtape from the G-Unit crew. 50′s flow here is flawless, arguably the best, smoothest he’s ever been. This was basically the “theme” for 2005′s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ film, and tells the story of his come up in the drug game (or, at least, 50′s version of his carefully constructed hagiography). The lyrics are the true gems here, so I’ll just let a few of the standouts speak for themselves:

“Check my logic: fiends don’t like seeds in they weed, shit/ Send me them seeds, I’ll grow ‘em what they need”

“I sell anything, I’m a hustler, I know how to grind/ Step on grapes, put it in water, and tell you it’s wine”

“I made plans to make it, a prisoner of the state/ Now I can invite your ass out to my estate”

“Pour Cristal in the blender, make a protein shake”

and finally

“The feds watch me, icy, they can’t stop me/ Racists pointing at me, ‘Look at *****race’: Hello!”   

5) “Ghetto Like A Motherfucker” (2011) I remember first encountering this track on a Tumblr compilation (I think?) called Don’t Fuck This Up, Curtis! and allowing myself to get excited that the old 50 was back! As the compilation’s name implies, around that time 50 had been releasing a string of online-only singles that were better than anything he’d put out in five or so years, and so there was some hope that he’d soon be making a triumphant return to the rap game. Sadly, this was not to be. But I still bang this track every month or so. The idea here was that 50 had written something, set it to a very sparse, stripped-down beat, and posted it online as an invitation for DIY rap producers to play with it and layer their own compositions on top of it. In that sense, it represented a melange of rap’s earliest roots--dudes spitting over vinyl cuts in basements and parks, just fucking around and having fun--and the possibilities afforded by the digital age and rap’s embrace of online platforms for mixing and remixing material (on a side note, I like to think of this as part of 21st century rap’s “punk rock” aesthetic, and would argue that this genre has done it better than any other). As with “Hustler’s Ambition,” “Baltimore Love Thing,” and “Ghetto Qu’ran,” this track gives 50 a chance to really showcase his talents as a writer and a rapper. The lyrics are as grimy as the beat, painting a picture of urban poverty and pre-fame 50, and 50 switches up his flow at multiple points throughout. Here are some of my favorite lines:

“Slim chance I’ma go back to killing roaches/ Be quiet, you can hear the rats in the wall/ Make you wanna pump crack ‘til you stack racks”

“Dice game, shake ‘em up, praying’ for a 6/ The wolves out there hungry, they lookin’ for a lick”

“****** pissed on the staircase, in the elevator/ Now I’m pissed cuz I’m starting to smell like piss, player”

and

“All a ***** need is a block and a connect/ And a box of 9 MMs to load in the TEC.”

50′s last two studio albums--Before I Self Destruct and Animal Ambition--honestly weren’t half-bad; I would venture so far as to say that they were both better than The Massacre and Curtis. But for 50 it was too little, too late, really. Too many rappers had come along since then doing what he did, only better and fresher. This is a Migos world now; we’re just living in it. And so, I’m left to ponder what could have been.