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britneyshakespeare · 5 months

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Another Thing Wrong With The Former Gifted Kid Discourse, Since I Can't Stop Thinking About It:

people have such an unhelpful tendency to universalize their own experience when talking about the plights and struggles about Gifted Kids™—and what they are talking about is not necessarily invalid, but they're more often talking about their individual responses to their particular schools' policies. This Is Not A Systemic Analysis. it's helpful; i sympathize with you. But You Are Not Dismantling The Inequities by saying this or that happened At Your School when you were a child, and it affected you this or that way because of Who You Are.

example. i always see people talking about neurodivergence in this conversation, which is actually helpful in spotlighting how the Gifted Kid discourse often glosses over such complex intersectional issues. you can talk about how you were Gifted & Neurodivergent and how those experiences lead you to future disappointment. this is, i must stress, valid. but your analysis of your own life Is Not A Systemic Analysis. your experience alone will never speak for how the educational system and trends in policy among schools across the united states affect ALL neurodivergent people negatively because there are neurodivergent people who are Different From You. not to mention that when people point out that very often "Gifted Kid" usually correlates with some degrees of privilege, people push back and go nooooo I'm neurodivergent. people across all other marginalized identities who are systemically disadvantaged by the educational system can be neurodivergent. this does not make you, initially, when you were as a young Kid determined to be Gifted, NOT also in fact privileged.

if you are not ready to discuss experiences that were different from your own growing up, you aren't really engaging in the discourse of how to improve public education in the united states. it's a diiii-verse country we live in. not only in the ways we traditionally think of. when we think of "marginalized" or "oppressed" people, some specific and historically significant groups come to mind. when it comes to advantages that set up a child for future educational success, these broad categories often leave gaps because they lead people to generalizations, and ultimately, fatalism.

but there's really so much hope in early childhood education if we were to make things more equitable, ie like i always say UNIVERSAL PRE-K. these kids who are determined as "gifted" more often than not were just from more enriched home environments that prepared them for learning how to read, write, and do math. it's often not special innate abilities that leads to differences in outcomes for different students, but That's How The Kids Interpret It When Some of Them Are Called "Gifted." they're more often than not, not doing something that's truly exceptional or precocious for their age. they're displaying signs of age-appropriate development, when often, the kids who may be lagging behind them skill-wise just Haven't Practiced Those Skills As Much.

so yes, that's why there's a correlation in things like upper- and middle-class white kids being seemingly more successful in school (and more commonly deemed "gifted") at a young age. it's from privilege. it's not even just the implicit biases of their educators already working in their favor for their race and class. it's the fact that being more privileged, generally, means their family and parents had all of their basic needs provided for. they had more time to read with you. they could buy more development-promoting toys. they probably had better mental health to cope with the demands of child-rearing. if they suffered chronic or sudden physical health issues, they were insured. privileged children are usually less exposed at a younger age to the harshnesses of this world, as every child should be. ALL of these little advantages build up, in terms of what a child can be provided with before they go to school. anything that's going wrong in a child's family system can negatively impact them without them even being old enough to understand it.

you may not think of yourself as Privileged. you might prefer to think of yourself as Gifted. Gifted is so nice, even if it's demoted to Former Gifted. at one point you were told you were superior and it felt really good. and You, reader, i do not know You. i'm not calling You privileged, even if you are! hell, everyone's privileged in some way. i am at the point in the post where for transparency's sake i think i should say I Could Be What Some People Call "Former Gifted". i was called smart as a kid and given special homework sometimes etc. i'm not calling any Former Gifted people stupid for not realizing this either. what i mean is that this kids Are Not Usually Actually Gifted. this is a compliment given overwhelmingly to children who were just simply not deprived. when people say they were once Gifted, they're more often than not saying I Had The Early Opportunities To Learn Everyone Should Have, But Doesn't. this doesn't make you an outlier. It Might Just Be A Sign of Privilege.

#also I Am Privileged #i wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth in fact my parents were unemployed for much of my childhood #and there were many medical stressors for multiple of my immediate family members that complicated things #my father was diagnosed w type 1 diabetes when he was recently laid off in a pre-affordable care act world.#but in terms of having basic needs met and provided for. i did!#i didn't know the differences for my family's circumstances #also both of my parents are college-educated which helped them get out of that and helped provide for the privilege i was born into.#I Acknowledge These Privileges Not Because They Make Me Bad But Because Not Everyone Has These Things Handed To Them!#privilege doesn't mean you don't struggle. it means you don't struggle as much as you could've.#things couldve been worse #rant #long post #im not making it rebloggable bc i dont trust this website lol #people wanting to say 'im not privileged im neurodivergent' in this convo just grinds my gears #theyre making it seem like 'gifted' = neurodivergent which is NOT true #even if what they were praised for seems in retrospect to them to be their neurodivergent qualities. and #how that might emotionally interact with the future disappointment of realizing you're Not Special.#or even the social isolation you MAYBE experienced from your own school's policies for students like you!#that's again though not a systemic analysis but a personal one. and that's fine. that needs room #but people will assign a disproportionate amount of importance on their individual experience. and deny they could be privileged!#it feels very 'oh officer id never kill my husband' but about privilege lol.#its ok to be privileged. its ok #if those privileges are that you were regularly fed and lived in a stable home and your parents were there for you then thats a good thing.#universal pre-k is what ive been driving home but really all other systemic inequalities affect educational success is what im saying.#much like suicide prevention is more than just having a hotline. it's correcting the injustices of the world that make ppl feel hopeless.#educational justice is providing an equitable world for all children SO THAT they are capable of being reached by education #let's acknowledge the layers please. please

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blackpearlblast · 5 months

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[ID: drawings of a golem animated by a palestinian flag painted on its forehead. it is seen: holding out its arms protectively in front of a crowd of children, the children also hold each other supportively; catching an air strike missile from the air and throwing it away or crushing it in its fist; turning its back so that a child can warm her hands by the earth oven built into its back, food in a pot is cooking on the fire and a boy holds a cup of steaming tea to his face and enjoys the aroma; clearing away rubble so a man can help up his wife who was buried underneath, she is clutching a baby to her chest; stooping down to look at a kitten a young boy is holding up to show it; and dissolving small flakes of clay from its finger into a glass of water, purifying it. end ID]

@fairuzfan asked people to create and share art for the strike. i wrote an artist statement and then set about trying to draw what i envisioned. artist statement below.

This golem is a protector that I wish I could gift to the children and adults in Gaza. The flag on its forehead is to show that love for the Palestinian people is an animating force for people fighting for a free Palestine all over the world, especially for those in Palestine who are trying to free themselves and their people. Love is the motivation for the call for a free Palestine, not hatred like people try to claim. It is very strong and fast and can catch air strikes out of midair and crush them to dust or throw them back in the direction they came from. It can lift all the rubble of a collapsed building very quickly so nobody can get trapped underneath. It has an earth oven in its back with an ever-burning flame that people can use to warm themselves and cook food and heat water to use to bathe themselves or make tea. Pieces of its clay can be crumbled up and mixed into water to make even the most brackish and unclean water pure and safe to drink.

The golem is always a bit of a tragic figure so I don't imagine it staying around forever once Palestine is free and it is no longer needed. I think it would use its great strength to help rebuild the destroyed houses, churches, schools, universities, hospitals, and mosques and then dive into the Jordan river and dissolve. It would clean the river of all pollution and make the water splash up over all the newly replanted fruit trees, causing them to grow big and strong. Its love for Palestine and its people can be tasted in the fruit they grow for generations.

I choose a specifically Jewish icon of protection because of how it feels to witness such horrors done in the supposed name of Judaism and the Jewish people. For many anti-zionist Jews, we feel like we are acting directly within the teachings of our stories and communities by opposing this genocide. It is difficult to understand how the very people and institutions who taught us these values now fight against them so fiercely. While obviously I would still oppose Israel were I not Jewish, the way I oppose Israel is directly informed by my Jewishness. I hope that someday, somehow, Judaism can bring as much joy and support to the Palestinian people as it has brought grief and destruction. That Jewish symbols used in the name of love and justice will bear more significance than the ones used in shows of hatred. Knowing the depth of the harm caused, I do not know if this is possible. But this artwork and everything I have dedicated myself to these past few months and continue to dedicate myself to in the future is born from this hope. I love you. Thank you for being on this planet with me. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! And it will be beautiful.

#cosmo art #palestine strike art

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inupibaldspot · 3 months

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Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

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seraphmeraph · 6 months

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Hur hur hurhur hur hurhurhurhurhur

How they’d be with pregnant reader - Headcanons

MK1 semi NSFW headcanons with Lin Kuei brothers aka Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, and Bi Han

TW: sex(+18), oral sex (f receiving), conventional sex, pregnancy, afab reader

A/N: this was actually a request of Pregnant reader and Kuai Liang that I lost LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY IM DYING. AHHHHH.

Tomas Vrbada • Smoke

Tomas is so attentive and loving towards you, not saying the others aren't, but he will never leave your side if he has a choice. He’ll cook, and clean, everything, all you need to do is rest and relax.

You’ll often find him being touchy with you, especially in public, wrapping his arms around your waist, and touching your pregnant belly.

He talks about how when the baby is born he won't let any harm come to you both. “I promise he won't end up like me.”

When it comes to pregnant sex with you two, he is so worried he might hurt you. He’s so gentle and slow despite you begging him to go harder or faster.

“Are you sure you’re okay, I don’t want to-” Tomas spoke before you cut him off.

“I’ll be okay,” You reassured him. You were laid on your back, his dick positioned right at your entrance.

He took a deep breath, slowly slipping inside you. He began to give slow deliberate thrusts into you, watching your face intently to make sure you were okay. He lowered his face to yours, letting out small moans and peppering your face with kisses.

Kuai Liang • Scorpion

Kuai Liang is the perfect baby daddy. He’ll spoil you with whatever you want and show you affection whenever. You will be SMOTHERED.

He’ll make it clear to everybody that he’s the father, whether it be rubbing your belly in public, keeping his hands all over you, or even just straight up telling people how proud he is of you for carrying his baby.

He often goes on missions so he always leaves you with Liu Kang or another Lin Kuei ninja, he wants to make sure you’re safe.

When you both are lying in bed, he’ll often massage or place his warm hands on you to help you feel better. He’s practically a heating pad.

Pregnant sex with you and Kuai Liang is amazing, you’ll hear praises, and he’d basically worship your body. He’s careful not to hurt you, but a little more confident in pleasuring you.

His head was buried in between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy. “Mm, doing good for me sweetheart,” He pulled away, just to insert a finger into you. His other hand rested on your pregnant belly, slowly caressing it as he ate you out.

His hair was out of his bun, your fingers tangling in between his hair.

He groaned into your pussy, sending shivers through you, enjoying the feeling of your fingers brushing his scalp. His calloused warm fingers ran over your belly.

Bi Han • Sub Zero

When Bi Han found out you were pregnant, he didn’t show much emotion. Only rested his hand on your head and kissed you.

You assumed he didn’t care at first and he noticed you were a bit distant so he would do little things to try to cheer you up. Whether it be taking you out, buying you gifts, or even cuddling you as you two lay in bed.

Out of all the brothers, Bi Han is actually the most concerned for you. When going out on missions, he would either leave one of his brothers with you or a Lin Kuei ninja.

You’ll never be alone if Bi Han could help it. In public his hand will always be on your hip, pulling you close to him. Literally, everyone will know he’s the father.

As much as Bi Han only trusts himself to protect you, he’s secretly mortified of being around you. He has so much self-control, he’ll watch his words, his actions, etc.

He’s kind of like Kuai Liang, where he’ll be like a cold compress. Breats tend to get sore during pregnancy so he’ll cup your breasts for ours with his cold hands. Whenever you complain about any pain Bi Han has to be extra and call you a physician who’ll just tell you it’s pregnancy cramps or something.

Bi Han lives for pregnant sex with you. He’s gentler than usual, yes, but just the aspect that you were bred by him gets him going. Breeding Kink? Maybe.

He gave gentle thrusts, his cool hand resting on your stomach. “So beautiful, carrying my child,” He groaned. His hand retreated back to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb gaining louder moans for you.

He would definitely make you scream that you want all his babies.

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lovesthecure · 1 year

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vent.txt

#god... every passing month recently feels worse and worse?#between the dysphoria and the extreme pain like #each time the suicidal thoughts and urges just keep getting worse #I haven't gotten intrusive thoughts about taking a knife to the under bits this bad since puberty #I have to smack my hand from trying to find some way to take some of my husband's T #He recently skipped a dose and I sat there so like...#''Give it to me then'' in my head #I hate this I hate how emotional the approaching ritual makes me #I hate how much I cry and how hyper sensitive the parts get and I hate this #I never wanted to be born transsexual #This isn't a gift this is fucking torture #I have no idea when I'm even gonna be able to get an appointment to discuss T #Let alone bottom surgery #I haven't wanted to kill myself this badly before #But in a way that I can't be found #I refuse to be misgendered in death #I fucking. I want to stop existing.

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eccentricwritingbaby · 18 days

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baby finn series, house divided

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series list - bedtime stories - sneaking onto stream - babysitting and date nights

summary - yours and lando’s little boy has decided to become a fan of a different team, leading lando into a little spiral

masterlist

finn norris, yours and landos bubbly pride and joy, was turning three this sunday - subjecting his birthday to a race day. finn had obviously grown up along the track with his dad and all his colleagues and friends which led him to adore and fall in love with the sport that is formula one - scaring the living daylights out of you in his passionate displays of love for the dangerous activity at such a young age. not only was finn bouncing off the walls when lando informed him of where his birthday would be held, he was jumping, shaking and yelling with excitement as the race track was his favorite place on earth.

“finn, baby, calm down,” you chuckled while giving lando a glance. you both were sat on the couch with your son in front of you in order to tell him the wonderful news. now your adorable little almost three year old was racing around screaming with joy.

lando let out a laugh as well and reached for his son, “if you’re excited about spending your birthday on the track you’ll also be very excited about my other surprise for you,” finn looked up at his father with those same crystal blue eyes and whispered as if it was to himself, “anotha’ supwise?” lando and you share another small laugh at his wonder as he proceeds to get your son his gift. you take this moment to sweep up your still giggly son into your lap and give him a few quick kisses to the top of his head. those delicious baby laughs were all you heard as you felt his face snuggle further into your arms. lando returns as swiftly as he left, yet this time he appears with a large box in his arms. your boy wiggles in your hold until you release him to crawl towards his father. once settled on your husband's lap, lando begins to aid him in opening the bright papaya colored box, leading to your understanding of the exact contents in seconds. lando was always getting sent items from fans that were miniature, or receiving pint-sized merch from mclaren all for his mini me which both of you just doted over. once the wrapping paper and tissue paper were thrown enough around your living room, finn finally poked his head into the box and came out with a frown.

“you don’t like it, bud?” lando softly questions while his eyebrows begin to furrow. “‘s not wed, dada,” your son responds as he eyes his father, confusion listed on all of your faces.

“baby, why would you want your outfit to be red for your birthday? don’t you want to cheer on daddy?” you attempt to understand the little boy by posing the questions but he simply just whips his head around to you even more confused.

“i cheer dada in wed!” his eyes begin to gloss over and you can already feel a temper tantrum about to stir, yet one look over to lando and you understand that both your boys may need a minute to cool down.

“okay finn, why don’t you pick out what you want to bring on the trip? i’ll be right in to help baby,” you reply cautiously as you lift him out of lando’s arms, around the forgotten papaya box, and in the direction of his room.

“otay, momma!” finn shouts as his little legs attempt to quickly take him into his room down the hall. once the tiny steps disappear, you turn to look at your other baby.lando sits on the couch with a blank stare as his hands ring together in front of him.

“he wants to support ferrari, love. not his own father,” lando’s head falls as he speaks and you land on the couch cushion next to him, beginning to run your hand up and down his back. even though finn was born while you both were young and unsure of how to raise a child together, since you were children yourselves, lando was consistently one of the best fathers you had seen. he let the third driver take his seat for a month and a half in order to be a dedicated father and bond accordingly with your son. he doted over you and your needs no matter what the cost or occasion. and overall he cherished approval, whether it be in the bedroom, the track, or parenthood. lando is confident, yes, but he will always want the confirmation that he is doing his best, and that his best is enough - which it is always more than. therefore, you could tell that his son not wanting to support his team, and by partisan him, has led him to conclude that he is not a good racer, role model, or father - and you needed to stop those lies from invading his head.

“lando, he’s two - almost three, he probably just likes the color and wants to wear it,” you reply to his heart heavy confession.

“no he wants to support his uncle carlos, who has been winning and been on all the podiums - oh except for when he was in the hospital having a surgery,” the ending of his small reply held a bitter tone which you knew was not jealousy. lando and carlos are especially close, he is beyond happy and proud of his friend who he knows deserves his winnings, but you could understand the envy appearing when his son is preferring him over his dad.

“lando, it doesn’t matter what team he wants to support, that is your son. and he worships the ground you walk on. trust me. i am with him all the time,” you continue with a chuckle and a funnier tone as you begin to recite the words your son always speaks to you, “it’s always, ‘when’s dada coming home?’ ‘i want dada to tuck me into bed’ ‘can i drive like dada when im older’ and so on. lando, he loves you - you know that. don’t make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. he is three, his intentions are pure,” as you end your speech, lando begins to raise his head looking into your eyes.

“i know, love. it just sucks i guess,” he lets out a quick sigh along with a shrug and meets your eyes again, “you’re still wearing papaya, right?” slight anxiety in his higher pitched question and you begin to laugh, “yes, love, i will always be in your color,” you reply as he hums and leans into your embrace, reaching down to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. just as you pull apart you can hear the quick little pitter patter of feet running down the hallway your little boy emits, trailing behind him is his bluey mini suitcase overflowing with toys and games.

“i all pack!” he squeals in excitement as he races over to you and your husband. lando drops down onto your floor, finn running right into his embrace, followed by a fit of giggles.

“let’s see what you packed, buddy,” your husband replies as he ruffles around finns baby curls. finn then claps a bit until he’s situated on the floor in front of the suitcase. he begins pulling out his items and reciting them to both of you and you respond in a chorus of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”.

race day -

as lando struts down the makeshift runway that is the entrance to the paddock, you follow behind a little further as to not draw too much attention to your little son. even though finn had grown up around the paddock, both lando and you are still not fully comfortable with the cameras and attention specifically around your son. therefore, any precaution - even the slightest - to not have him overly immersed in the media you both will take. lando is simply sporting his mclaren team gear, you in a light and well-fit sundress that lando emphasized in the morning you look ‘absolutely ravishing, my darling” and your birthday boy, well, he has arrived in a bright red ‘sainz55’ ferrari shirt as well as a bright and wide smile - something your husband couldn’t even be mad at if he tried, as your son’s smile that bright on his birthday was worth any sort of bruise to the ego. once well inside the paddock, finn begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms wanting to be let down which could only mean one thing.

“UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS!” he begins to cry as you put him on the ground and he takes off towards him.

“FINN! SLOW DOWN!” your husband cries after him as he picks up a jogging pace after his overenthused son. carlos’ head whips around at the voice of his favorite little man as he begins to crouch down and brace for impact with his arms held wide. the little ball of red soon collides with his newfound favorite driver and the two begin to laugh as they hold each other. once you and lando catch up to the pair you can hear the adorable conversation at play.

“i wear wed fo’ you, uncle los!” finn sings happily while prancing around in front of carlos. the spanish driver, still crouched at your son's level, chuckles in admiration as he stares at the boy in front of him, “i think red is your color, pequeño,”

“it is! it is!” finn replies once again jumping around in full excitement.

“i also think it is somebody’s birthday,” carlos says holding a sly grin while staring at the little lando in front of him.

“ME! it’s mine!” your boy continues to jump.

“i think special birthday boys get to sit in their favorite uncles car?” carlos feigns innocence in the question as he looks at lando who holds a grin on his face. finn looks at his father for permission with a slight doe-eyed expression and lando gives him a simple nod before finn and carlos quickly disappear to the ferrari garage.

“i am very proud of you, love. you’ve got a good brave face,” you say quietly to your husband as he reaches down to pull you into a kiss.

“you know why i’m smiling, baby?” lando doesn’t wait for you to answer the rhetorical, “because we just gained a free babysitter for about an hour,” he kisses you again, this time with more urgency as he continues, dropping an octave, “and i’ve got an empty drivers room just waiting for us,” one more kiss and he’s already pulling you into the direction of the mclaren garage with you jogging quickly behind him in a fit of giggles.

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lewisvinga · 8 days

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his lucky charm | carlos sainz x fem! reader / daughter

summary; even during the most stressful moments of football, carlos needs his good luck charm, his 6 month old daughter, in his arms.

word count; 630

warnings; ? idk pero hala madrid siempreeee

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; [requests are closed] I HAD TO DO THIS😫 i’m weak for madridista carlos and i saw a video of a guy holding his daughter while watching benzema score a penalty and it reminded me of carlos ! but also, el clásico win tdy w bellingol winner tho🤭🤭🤭

masterlist !

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“Carlos, you know you can set her down in her crib, right?” Y/n asked again for the second time in 10 minutes, looking at the sleeping baby in her husband's arms.

“Ahorita no, mi amor.” [not now, my love] Carlos quickly shushed his wife as he kept his eyes on the screen.

Sometime around the second half, he had picked up little Catalina in hopes it would calm down his nerves over the Real Madrid and Manchester City match. However, when the match went into overtime, his nerves just became worse.

He was so nervous that he couldn’t help but rock back and forth which made his daughter fall into a deep slumber in his arms. It made Y/n laugh to herself. She was a fan of the Madrid-based team but not to the extent of Carlos who lives and breathes Real Madrid.

Her father-in-law even made a joke once that the Sainz’s bleed white, the team's official color. Sure, she was nervous because it was a knockout match for the top competition of club football but not nervous to the extent of her husband.

“Carlos, I really think you should put Catalina down before-“

“She’s my good luck charm!” Carlos exclaimed, holding the 6-month-old close to his chest. She even was wearing the white Real Madrid kit his father gifted them when she was born, making her even more of a ‘good luck charm’

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes at her husband's antics. She gets up to go to the kitchen to grab her phone and a bottle of water. When she walked back to the living room, she saw him biting his fingernails and kneeling on the floor instead of sitting on the couch.

“Carlos, what are you…” Her voice trailed off. She wore a confused expression as he held a now awake Catalina in one hand and the other hand kept running through his hair.

“Penalties, mi amor! Penalties!”

Y/n sat back down on the couch and held her phone up so she could record his reactions. They were down to the last penalty, the 5th one. If Real Madrid made it then that means they would pass.

Even Catalina, who doesn’t even understand what is going on, was focused on the screen as #22 for the Madrid-based team took his spot. Y/n noticed her husband holding his breath as the player swung his leg back and kicked the ball. The ball makes it in causing her husband to let out a cheer.

Carlos immediately stands up to his feet and holds Catalina out. “Mi gatita! Ganamos! Vamos a los semifinales!” [my little cat! we won! we’re going to the semifinals!] He loudly exclaimed to his 6 month old daughter who gurgled in reply. “Te dije, Y/n! [i told you] She’s our lucky charm!”

He holds her close and leaves kisses all over her chubby cheeks. Catalina squeals at the sensation of her father's beard scratching her face. She plants her hands on his face as he continues to kiss her, letting out fits of giggles.

Y/n’s heart melted at the interaction between her husband and their daughter. She knew he’d make the best girl dad the moment she found out she was pregnant. She was right, he is the best girl dad.

She couldn’t help but burst out into laughter when she heard Carlos start to sing the anthem of Real Madrid to Catalina who kept gurgling at her father's antics.

Y/n stood recording and quickly uploaded the video of her husband and daughter to Instagram, captioning it ‘a Madridista and his lucky charm🤍 hala madrid!’. She knew people would immediately fawn over their favorite driver cheering to his daughter, but for now, she was just enjoying the show he was giving with his not-so-perfect singing.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #carlos sainz scenarios #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine

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hungryhungrygremlins · 1 year

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I am not here to improve your day!

#ai art #midjourney #op #I was born with the gift of hands and I intend to make that everyone else's problem

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lovetwist · 1 month

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Veil of Deception (I)

SYNOPSIS: In a world where political alliances are forged in blood and treachery lurks around every corner, you find yourself thrust into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen. Born to be his perfect mate, you grapple with the terrifying prospect of becoming entangled with a man known for his brutality, obsession, and madness. As your union unfolds, you navigate a landscape of deception and dark desires, struggling to find your footing in a marriage fraught with danger and uncertainty. Caught between duty and defiance, summon your strength and resilience to survive in a world where loyalty is a luxury and love is a dangerous game.

WARNINGS (R18+): mildly dub-con, smut, first time, weapons kink, mentions of violence, manipulations, genetic breeding, power play

Word Count: 3.5k

PART 2

Below the towering spires of obsidian and steel, against a backdrop of opulent extravagance that flaunted wealth and power, a tension hung heavy, pregnant with the promise of destiny.

As Lady Atreides, sole daughter of Leto Atreides, you stood poised on the precipice of a meeting that would shape the course of your future. Your heart seized with nerves as you awaited the arrival of your betrothed.

Since your 15th name day, you had known of your engagement to the na-Baron. It was an inescapable fate predetermined by the Bene Geserrit. Your mother, Lady Jessica, had gone against them by giving birth to Paul, a male heir for Leto. Two years later, she gave birth to you – a gift of compromise for both sides. In return, Lady Jessica and Leto achieved the familial harmony they wanted, through the sacrifice of their daughter.

Every year, the Harkonnens requested your portrait to be sent along with a lock of hair. In exchange, they sent House Atreides jewels, gold, silks, and spice; disguised bribes for the upkeep of such a fine lady. They had only sent a portrait of Feyd-Rautha once. It was taken during his coming-of-age ceremony, a lean young man dressed in black fighting leathers. You stared often at the picture, looking to find some clue that could reveal his character. His demeanor was unnaturally cold and collected, yet his dark eyes barely concealed a burning rage. You wondered if Feyd-Rautha poured over you pictures as you did his.

Years passed and the engagement felt more like a false formality than reality. Unlike other noble families, you never exchanged letters with Feyd-Rautha or even met as a courtesy. Having completed your Bene Geserrit training under your mother, you learned that such things did not matter when it came to pairings arranged by the Reverand Mother. You caught whispers of conversation between your mother and her Bene Geserrit sisters. There would be no chance of failure, this union would be perfect. You were genetically engineered to be his absolute mate. Attraction and physical compatibility was assured. Everything about you was designed to lure him in – your scent, your voice, your everything was to be his undoing from the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Yet the thought gave you no confidence as you stood here now in Giedi Prime. Sexual attraction differed greatly from love, he didn’t need emotions to breed you. Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen, was a man followed by countless stories of brutality and wickedness. You heard that he laughed when Reverand Mother subjected him to the Gom Jabbar. He didn’t endure pain, he reveled in it.

Your palms grew clammy, breath becoming increasingly shallow as you pondered the dark fate that awaited you in the form of this formidable man. Would Feyd-Rautha be the embodiment of all the whispered sin that had reached your ears, or would he prove to be an enigma beyond your wildest imaginings? With each passing moment, the anticipation mounted, weaving a delicate web of uncertainty around your heart as your braced yourself to meet the man who held your destiny in his hands.

The grand doors of the chamber swung open with a regal flourish, your heart quickened its pace, echoing the rhythm of anticipation that thrummed through the air. Through the gray haze of incense, you beheld Feyd-Rautha, a vision of masculinity and charisma, whose presence seemed to command the very essence of the room. His eyes met yours across the expanse of the chamber, a charged moment filled with unspoken tension, as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of this meeting.

You were ensnared in a tempest of conflicting emotions, thoughts swirling like sand caught in a desert storm. You questioned your own composure, wondering if you could maintain the facade of confidence expected of a lady of House Atreides in the presence of the young Harkonnen and the terrifying Baron. Feyd-Rautha may be your future husband, but he was not required to provide you a good nor happy life. After all, why would he? You were the daughter of his family’s sworn enemy. He may have been bound in marriage to you by centuries of bloodline manipulation, but he maintained a free will.

Would his words falter, betraying the tumult and hatred raging within him? Or would he summon the grace and poise befitting his station, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface? Your apprehension mounted, a symphony of doubt and fear playing out in the recesses of your mind. Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of determination flickered like a distant star on the horizon, urging you forward into the unknown with a quiet resolve born of necessity.

For in the labyrinthine dance of politics and power that defined their world, you knew that you could ill afford to falter now. With a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders and prepared to face your destiny, whatever form it may take in the guise of a madman husband.

Feyd-Rautha, with an air of effortless confidence, strode forward, his gaze a smoldering ember that ignited a spark within your soul. In that fleeting moment, as your paths converged amidst the darkness and mist of the surroundings, you felt a surge of something unfamiliar yet undeniable—an electric current that crackled between your bodies, binding your fates together inextricably.

Words eluded you as you struggled to articulate the wave of emotions that threatened to consume you. Yet, in the silence that stretched between you two, you found solace in the understanding that this meeting was but the first step on a journey fraught with uncertainty and possibility. He bowed without taking his eyes off you. In greeting, you extended a gloved hand, Feyd-Rautha grasped it with a firm sense of resolve. You knew that your lives were now intertwined in ways neither could fully comprehend nor stop.

And in that moment, amidst the hazy dream of your shared future, you glimpsed the faintest flicker of something akin to desire dance across his eyes. You noticed a dilation of his pupils as he laid a kiss on the back of your hand. Then, his grasp of you tightened and tightened. Your face contorted in pain as a crooked smirk appeared on his features.

In the dim light of the chamber, your eyes traced the contours of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips, searching for traces of the young man you once memorized in a portrait. Yet, try as you might, only a beast stood before you in the guise of a gentleman. When he stood at his full height with his darkened leer, you held yourself back from cowering. His gaze was vicious, his smile vulgar with blackened teeth, and he exuded an air of savagery.

“How delightful it is to finally meet you, Lady Atreides.”

His deep, raspy voice caught you off guard. What a performer he could be! Long gone was the ethereal allure he displayed when first entering the room, now you could see him for what he was.

“Likewise, my Lord Feyd-Rautha.”

Uncertainty lingered like a specter in the room, casting a pall over the impending union that would bind you with him. You let your gaze lower onto the floor as your parents approached to talk with the Baron and na-Baron.

You could feel his intense gaze burning through your body even as you moved away to be with your brother. Could his eyes pierce through your facade, unraveling the intricacies of your soul like fine thread? Such questions gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, casting shadows on your will to remain strong.

As the evening progressed, the tension in the air thickened like a fog, suffocating any semblance of ease. Seated at the long banquet table surrounded by your family, the Harkonnens, and noble guests, you found yourself ensnared in a delicate dance of propriety and peril.

Across from you, Feyd-Rautha lounged in his seat, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched you with unabashed fascination. His demeanor was that of a predator toying with its prey, his every movement calculated to instill a sense of discomfort. Your family would leave to Arrakis after the wedding festivities, then you would be truly left alone with him. The precariousness of your position tugged at your heart.

As the meal commenced, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the strained chatter of polite conversation. You forced yourself to engage in small talk with those seated around you, your words measured and careful, lest you betray the fear that coiled like a serpent in the pit of your stomach.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized by those dark, probing eyes. It was as if Feyd-Rautha could see straight through you, peeling away the layers of pretense to expose your most secret vulnerabilities. You found yourself growing increasingly unsettled. You longed to escape, to retreat to the safety of your chambers and away from the suffocating presence of the Harkonnen heir.

But you knew that there would be no reprieve, no sanctuary from the darkness that had descended upon your life like a shadow. For tonight, and every night thereafter, you were bound to him by the cruel machinations of fate, condemned to walk a path fraught with danger and uncertainty. And as you raised your glass to Feyd-Rautha’s toast to your impending union, you couldn't help but wonder what horrors awaited you.

“To the most beautiful bride in the world, I will certainly savor tomorrow’s…memories.”

The men at the table chuckled darkly while your father’s and brother’s jaws clenched. You lay your delicate hand over theirs, do not mourn me. If I am to die, I shall do so with honor.

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As your mother lowered your veil, you noticed tears forming in her eyes. You never thought you’d live to see the day the impenetrable Lady Jessica shed tears for you. I must really be walking into my death, you thought.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. There were no words to describe the vision you saw. Crafted from the finest silk and satin, your wedding gown exuded an air of majestic elegance with flowing skirts cascading like waves of moonlight around your figure.

The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and delicate lace, hugged your curves with a tailored precision, accentuating a slender waist and graceful neckline. A row of tiny diamonds trailed down your body, gleaming against the smooth expanse of your back. While the front of the dress was conservative, your back was tastefully exposed through a combination of sheer silk, diamonds and pearls.

Your hair was pinned neatly into a bun with a delicate braid on each side. The veil was gauzy, making your face seem like a daydream. The ivory fabric of your dress pooled at your feet in a sea of frothy tulle and satin, forming a train that trailed behind you like a regal cloak. The wedding dress was embroidered with delicate motifs of growing vines, mountains and ocean waves – a reminder of Caladan.

At your collar, a border of intricate lacework added a touch of timeless elegance, its patterns catching the light in a dazzling display of shimmering beauty. With every movement, the gown seemed to whisper tales of romance and splendor, a clear hope to the love and devotion the seamstress had prayed you’d find. You choked down a sob.

You’ve made me an angel for him to ruin.

The wedding hall was adorned with such grandeur, you’d expect the emperor’s daughter was getting married instead. The flickering silver torches cast dancing shadows upon the ebony stone walls. As guests gathered in hushed reverence, the air crackled with anticipation, as if the very walls themselves whispered of your impeding damnation.

At the front of the hall, beneath a canopy of arched black silk, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stood, an imposing figure in his ceremonial garb. His porcelain skin was stark against the darkness of his clothes as he awaited his bride.

You approached with measured steps, hardening your grip on your father’s arm. Your eyes must’ve betrayed your fear and resignation because you could see Feyd-Rautha biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh.

As you reached the altar, his lips curled into a predatory smile, his voice dripping with malice as he spoke the vows that bound you together in unholy matrimony. The words echoed through the hall like a curse, sealing your fate alongside his.

As you exchanged rings, a union forged in the fires of despair, you vowed that though your body may be bound to Feyd-Rautha, your spirit would remain forever free.

Standing before him, you felt the weight of his gaze like chains around your soul.

With a solemn nod from the officiant, you and Feyd-Rautha were instructed to seal your union with a kiss. He removed your veil, his eyes lingering on your face. As his lips met yours, a shiver ran down your spine.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, but devoid of love. You gasped when his tongue entered your mouth. It was a macabre dance of dominance and submission, a twisted mockery of affection that left a bitter taste upon your lips. You try to push him away, but he holds your hands firm against his chest. The Harkonnens roar with applause and laughter. As you pulled away, a sense of profound emptiness washed over you, a hollow echo of the dreams and desires that had once burned within your heart.

The rest of the wedding banquet was a blur. As you were led to the high table by Feyd-Rautha's side, you couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, ensnared in a web of malevolence. The guests, mostly Harkonnen allies, noble families, and sycophants, feigned smiles and exchanged whispers, their eyes gleaming with a perverse curiosity at the spectacle of your union.

The feast itself was a decadent display of excess, with platters of exotic delicacies and goblets overflowing with rich wines. But the opulence only served to accentuate the suffocating atmosphere, as the room was closing in on you with each additional piece of ornate furniture.

Feyd-Rautha, ever the consummate host, played his part with calculated charm, his laughter ringing hollow in your ears as he regaled the guests with tales of conquest and murder. You watched him from across the table, his features twisted in a mask of false benevolence, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of revulsion mingled with a sliver of pity. He, too, was playing a part – ever the performer.

Throughout the banquet, you were subjected to the leering gazes and whispered innuendos of the Harkonnen cronies, their crude remarks slicing through the thin veneer of civility like daggers. But you held your composure, steeling yourself against their taunts and jeers, refusing to let them see the cracks in your mask.

As the night wore on and the wine flowed freely, the mood grew increasingly raucous, the revelry descending into a frenzied ecstasy. You found yourself adrift in a sea of faces, each one a grotesque caricature of humanity, their laughter and applause a cruel mockery of your predicament.

And amidst the chaos and debauchery, you couldn't help but wonder what was in store for you, chained to a man whose heart was as black as midnight. As you absentmindedly finished your last sip of wine, Feyd-Rautha stood suddenly, his chair loudly rattling against the granite floors. A chilling silence descended upon the hall.

He extended a hand towards you and you immediately understood his intentions. You departed the hall, hand-in-hand as men watched with envy and women stared with pity. You couldn’t bear to look at the faces of your family, afraid that you might beg them to take you home.

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

As you left the banquet hall with Feyd-Rautha, a heavy sense of foreboding settled over you. The echoes of the evening's macabre festivities lingered in your mind, each laughter, each lewd jest, a reminder of the gilded cage in which you now found yourself imprisoned.

You walked beside Feyd-Rautha, his grip firm upon your hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors of the Harkonnen estate. There was an eerie stillness in the air. With each step, you felt the weight of your predicament pressing down upon you, the reality of your situation sinking in like a cold, unyielding truth.

You stole a glance at Feyd-Rautha, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Occasionally fireworks would alight by the window, allowing you to see his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that made you look away immediately.

As you walked in silence, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a storm raging within you. You couldn't help but wonder what awaited in the bedchamber. You weren’t ignorant to the act of consummating a marriage, but your husband was no ordinary man. What horrors lay in store for a woman bound to a man as cruel and cunning as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen… what would satisfy a man like him? But amidst the fear and uncertainty, a flicker of desire burned within you, a stubborn resolve to claim him as much as he claims you.

He led you into a large room with double doors. Compared to the gaudy decorations of the wedding hall, this room was relatively simple: a chamber of dark elegance and understated grandeur. There were only the bare necessities required of a bedroom, but each piece had been impeccably handmade with the most exquisite of materials. At its center, a massive four-poster bed stands as the focal point, its frame crafted from polished ebony wood, intricately carved with motifs of serpents and ivy. Perfectly sized above the bed, stretching over the ceiling was pure reflective glass. You swallowed thickly, this man had no shame.

A grand chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling, its crystals casting prismatic rays of light across the room, illuminating the space with a haunting allure.

The walls are lined with dark, navy paneling, adorned sparingly with antique tapestries depicting scenes of forgotten battles and dangerously sharpened weapons. A sleek, black writing desk sits nearby, stacked with books on war strategies and adorned with quill and parchment.

A sense of regal simplicity pervades the space, each element carefully curated to its master. This is a sanctuary of solitude, where one can retreat from the heaviness of the Harkonnen world and immerse themselves in the embrace of peace.

Busy admiring the room, you didn’t notice Feyd-Rautha locking the doors behind you. You tensed when you suddenly felt the coldness of a blade against your back. With one precise slice, he cut your wedding dress open leading all the decorative pearls to fall to the ground. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself, but his newfound grip on your wrists was even faster.

“You are mine now, pet.” His hands slowly guided yours down as he ripped away the rest of your dress. “Do not resist me, I want to see you in all your beauty.”

Your face flushed as you looked away from him. You knew objecting to his wish was futile, perhaps if you appeased him then he’d be gentler. You learned this was a useless thought the moment you saw his expression – raw, animalistic hunger chipped away at the edges of his sanity. His pupils dilated so wide that his eyes became monochromatic orbs of obsidian.

He removed his own clothes with swift and lithe movements, revealing pure sculpted muscle. Through the rapid rise and fall of his chest, you could see that he was barely holding back his lust. Feyd-Rautha was going to devour you without leaving a single morsel for the world.

“I-I… If you hurt me, I will scream.”

“Go ahead, it’ll only stroke my ego if you do. Scream loud enough for the whole banquet to hear. Let them know what pleasures your husband bestows upon you.”

With each step he took towards you, you took two steps back. When you felt the bed come into contact with the back of your knees, you realize you’ve been trapped.

“Lie down.” he commanded.

Sensing the tonal shift in his voice, you obeyed. You felt his long, slender fingers enter your most intimate place. When he curved against your inner wall, you let out an involuntarily moan – which he quickly swallowed from your lips. You had touched yourself before, but only rarely during occasions when you couldn’t sleep and the moon was hanging high.

However, this was different – he was different. His fingers reached places where yours never could. Your body made lewd sounds as he pumped in and out of you with torturous speed. The way you grind against his hand was indecent, but he rewarded you with such sweet friction. Hearing his low pants against your ear, you couldn't help but writhe into his touch. When you came undone, he smirked and licked your essence from his fingers.

Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you again; caging you between his toned arms. He reached out to grasp your chin before roughly crashing his lips down on yours. The kiss was all-consuming, he was drinking in every part of you without letting you breathe. Your eyes wandered down to where his member stood unnaturally stiff and enlarged. Your new husband sneered at your expression before his right hand circled around your throat.

“Your throat… it shall be my axis tonight.”

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #dune imagine #dune fanfic #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #dune x reader #austin butler imagine #feyd smut #austin butler x reader #feyd rautha smut

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wingedjellyfishflight · 2 months

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Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

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