Thinking Steve Harrington Thoughts (per Usual) (also Band Of Brothers Thoughts) And Realizing That I

thinking steve harrington thoughts (per usual) (also band of brothers thoughts🫣) and realizing that I 10000000% believe his father is Ron Livingston.

obviously not like literal ron livingston but like LOOK AT HIM

like i can't think of anyone else truly

idk i just cannot UNSEE IT

like omg that's literally his dad what

now someone help me figure out his mom's face PLEASE

anyways thanks for listening 🫡🫡🫡🫡

Band of Brothers screencaps/edits (264/?)

Shifty ❤

For @neverendingstories00

from "Evolutions" by photographer Summer Wagner

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 | Feyd Rautha x reader 

Pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader, Feyd Rautha x black!reader

Summary: On the eve of the psychotic Prince’s birthday, you gruesomely discover the truth about your purpose on Arrakis and how you fit into the beloved prophecy that has muddied the minds of your people. 

Warnings: DUNE PART II SPOILERS, mentions of violence, blood, sexual activity, bloodlines, angst, slowburn, enemies to lovers (one sided), Minors DNI

Taglist: @elf-punk @b-bradshaw @strengthandstay @dreamlandcreations

If you’d like to be added to the list just let me know!

___

CHAPTER ONE

THE DARK PRINCE & DESERT ROSE

“What did I instruct you to do?”

The voices around you were fuzzy. There was no amount of energy in the world that could keep your eyes open as they grew louder and louder in command. 

There was a fight in the dead of nightfall, you could recall that much. Chani woke you up, rushing from Paul’s tent to yours and telling you to grab as much stuff as you could. The smell of sand, the smell of your home, burning around you was intense and thick.

She grabbed your hand, telling you to stay close, but she underestimated how horrible the attack would become. It was the Harkonnen’s doing. Firing away at your camp in the middle of the night was not their style, but, in guerilla warfare, there were no rules. 

It was conquer or be conquered. 

Paul did his best to keep the Harkonnen soldiers away, however, they were becoming too much for even him to handle alone. 

“Get far away from here. Stay out of their line of sight.” You remember your sister saying. Her hands roughly on your exposed shoulders before placing a carved blade in your hands. “Fight like hell if you need to. Do not let them take you!”

“But—“

Chani shook her head. “Do as I say.” She ducked at the sound of a nearby explosion. Her blue eyes grew wider in fear for her sister’s life. “Go, NOW!” 

You had to have run away, you thought. That’s why your legs felt as if you had been sprinting for years with no rest. That was all you could remember, everything else proving to be foggy in your mind. Your arms were held above your head, shackled to a cold concrete wall against your barely clothed body. There was a slight trickle of something running down your temple, so much so that it tickled against your skin. Was that blood?

“You instructed us to extract the Fremen girl from her camp, Na-baron—“

“Without harm!” Someone hollered, a man, shutting down his subjects immediately. You felt your head fling backward, a hand on your neck exposing your face to the light. “She is bleeding. Her face has been sliced and it was at your hand.”

Your eyes flutter open, getting a small glimpse at who was manhandling you. His powdered skin appeared smooth. Eyes dark and brooding as you matched his gaze. There had been whispers on Arrakis about the Baron’s nephew. His mental instability mixed with his thirst for blood proved him to be one of the most ruthless of the Harkonnen. Completely surpassing any reputation his family laid for centuries before. 

Then it clicked for you. 

You must be at the mercy of the Harkonnen clan, the very entities who had oppressed your people for hundreds of years. There was plenty of speculation about what they did to Fremen women in their clutches, things so horrific that you prayed you would die before confirming the suspicions.

“The rat took out four of our men, your highness. Stabbed one of our soldiers through their shield.”

With a swift motion, your head was released from the man’s grasp. Outstretching his arm, his blade pierced the pale skin of his soldier in the throat. “GET OUT!” He screamed, the few soldiers retreating to the exit of wherever you were being held. 

The room now only held the two of you. Your senses and adrenaline suddenly reignited as fright tried to set in. The pale man turned himself to face you once more. Tears brimmed your eyes and you tried your best to not allow them to fall. You had already been captured, you refused to appear any more weak in his presence. If he knew how scared you were of him, it would only fulfill the sick obsession he had with your people.

His movements were snakelike as he approached you, setting the blade down nearby so both of his hands were free. You took in his physique, how he moved like a hunter and you were believed to be his prey. Based on your short encounter with him, you knew the rumors were true. That this nephew of the Baron would surely be a living nightmare for as long as you were alive and captive.

You possessed little mobility, your arms tied but your legs and torso free. With all of your strength, you attempted to kick him in the chest only to be met with failure. Your attack was faulted by his hand clenching your sand-dusted ankle. He held it momentarily, glancing at your foot with a smirk, before letting you go. 

“My name is Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.” He introduced, slithering from the reach of another attack by you. His torso touches against your side, the burning sensation of his skin meeting yours and running down the side of your face. His index finger wipes away the stray blood streamlining down your temple. Against your will, you let out a scared whimper. His proximity to you being the cause of your rapid heart rate. “Shh. Shh, little mouse. It is alright.”

You took a shaky breath. “Stealing me from my home in the dead of night and you dare say that I am alright? With you?” 

“You were to be brought to me unharmed.” He repeated in amusement. You were not frightened enough to be mute. There was a fire within the pits of your belly just waiting to be ignited. Feyd could feel the warmth begging to burn him. “I only want the best for you, Karama.”

Karama? A Harkonnen likening you to a miracle made your stomach lurch. Your body didn’t know whether to be in shock or for your adrenaline to continue to spike. Breathing was becoming irregular as you found the air stifling. His closeness sending shockwaves all over you.

Struggling to remove his hand from your face, you turned your cheek away from him in spite. “What do you want with me, Feyd?”

“Today is my birthday.” The man took a step back, eyes trailing your chest and hips in all of its natural glory. You were still in your beige nightgown, tattered and covered in soldier blood. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. “I was told that I could have anything I desired, and for this special day, I only requested two things:” He stood in front of you, craving an ounce of your attention. “To kill Paul Atreides and to have you in my possession.”

Your blue eyes found themselves back in his line of sight. Did they capture Paul? If they had him then surely they had your sister. Chani was somewhere locked in this castle as well and there was nothing you could do to help her. 

“Where is my sister?” You asked, nostrils flared with an insurmountable level of rage. “Where is Chani?!”

Feyd grinned, the sight of you angry with him making him feel intense forms of pleasure. “She is on the run with the rest of your people, I assume. My intention was never to harm them—”

“Harkonnen’s have been responsible for the enslavement of my people for longer than you nor I could fathom.” You hissed. “All you know is bloodshed and madness.”

Feyd loomed closer, his fingers inching toward your waist but you successfully kicked his hand away in this instance. The attack was not enough to prevent him from trying again. The mere blessing of your skin on top of his sent him into a frenzy. It would be the most he could touch you for the next twenty four hours or so. He was unable to control himself around you. He could not wait to get his hands against your tanned skin and fill every inch of you with his seed.

His rough palm found its way wrapped around your body, pulling you close, and your breath hitched. Mere centimeters from each other’s faces and he held no intentions of letting you go so soon. Feyd took a deep breath, the scent of Spice and sweat radiating off of you like the finest perfume jewels could buy.

“There have been whispers of you being a great fighter.” He stated lowly, dangerously close to your barely covered breasts. “You must recognize that you will no longer need to fight against me or my people. That the beginning of unity is in our hands, Y/N.”

“There will never be peace as long as you continue to hunger for the control of Spice.” You huff, pulling against your restraints with all of your might, the leather digging into your flesh. 

Feyd unwinded his grasp from your body. Letting out a groveling chuckle. The man tilts his head curiously, finding any excuse to continue laying his eyes upon your beauty. “Surely you understand what the prophecy states—“

“What prophecy?” You interrupted. 

Feyd studies you. The hyperactivity of your hands begging to break free, your eyes flickering between him and the exit, the beads of stress rolling down your forehead … you were frightened by him and for once in his life, the feeling brought him no contentment.

You’re a smart young woman, that he knew to be true. So to see your eyes full of wonder and confusion proved that you truly were none the wiser. 

“You do not know?” He inquired, already anticipating the answer. “You do not know who you are?” 

“I am Y/N Kynes of the Fremen people. That is who I am!” You raised your voice. Not wanting your last moments to be full of fear in trying to please the madman. No matter how panicked you felt.

A hand tightly gripped your chin, holding your focus level with his. “And you are to be my wife,” His free hand hovering over your stomach, fingers grazing the exposed flesh from the rips in your nightgown. “the mother of my child.” Feyd could not hide his smile, even in the face of your perplexities. “I have heard of this prophecy for years. A man from a great house will marry a Fremen woman, fall in love, and produce a son, combining the two feuding entities into a house of peace and prosperity for all.”

“You must have me mistaken for I cannot be your betrothed.” You protested, wriggling from his grasp. 

Feyd released your face. Tracking your every movement with his eyes. “The woman will have the strengths of a seasoned warrior.” He continued to recite. “She will possess the blinding essence of the sun to all she encounters and she will have a birthmark that resembles...”

He walked calmly to your side. Moving the delicate fabric of your nightgown to reveal what sealed his fate and yours. “the crescent moon.” Feyd nodded, pleased that he finally had you to himself. “I could not wait for you. I had heard of your existence for all of this time and my heart refused to see another day pass without you by my side.” 

“H-How did you know that was there?” You trembled, tears falling from your cheeks. 

“For it was written.” His thumb ran across your face, collecting the tears and sucking the salty liquid from his finger. “The prophecy has existed for longer than you nor I can fathom. A tale as old as time itself.” He teases, using your own words against you. “Don’t you wish for peace, little mouse?”

You nodded. “Of course I do. But no one informed me that this was my duty to my people.”

“Someone in your life did not wish for me to have your hand. Perhaps your sister you speak of?” Feyd sucked his teeth, disappointment riddled on his features. “As did many within mine, which is why they are no longer breathing. I vowed that I would stop at nothing to find you, Y/N, and now that that time is finally here…I suggest you become comfortable with the prophecy.” 

Taking his blade, he began to slice each restraint from your wrists, your arms falling at your side. Wasting no time you let your leg kick his forearm. The blade in air for only a few seconds, however, enough to allow it to now be within your possession. Using his own defenses against him, you tried as hard as you could to make the blade meet his throat.

Feyd was mentally thrown. No one had dared to attack him, much less engage in hand to hand combat before. The few hits you did land upon him were simply due to ill preparedness. The smallest of guards within him being let down simply because of who you are.

Switching the blade to your non dominant hand, you used your elbow to bash into his chest. The Na-Baron stumbled briefly before letting out a laugh. He reached for a handful of your hair, curling it around his fist and forcing you to look at him.

“Is this how you like to play, Desert Rose?” He asked. Nothing in his eyes or demeanor saying he was frightened by you. This was all entertainment for him and his sadistic mind. “Let us play then.”

Growling, you rammed your already fragile head into his. Eliciting enough of a shock to force him into releasing his grip. You allowed your eyes to linger on his legs for far too long. Feyd was unfazed and steady on calculating your next move. Delighted when he saw you going to sweep at his feet.

He caught your ankle, twisting it enough to not cause pain but deter your plans. You fell to floor with a thud. Your back pressed against stone as his body landed on top of yours. Without a second thought, you raised the bloodied blade to his neck. Panting while trying to catch your breath.

Kissing the cool metal to his porcelain skin but not enough pressure to draw blood. Feyd’s eyes went wide. The only time you had seen fear from someone who instilled so much in others. The clear answer was to kill him. You were seconds away from doing so, why hadn’t you followed through?

Doubt plagued you.

Could he be lying about the prophecy? How would he have known about your birthmark? 

“Fight like hell if you need to. Do not let them take you!”

Chani’s last words rang in your psyche. Why was your safety so much more important beyond that of other Fremen? Why would that particular string of words be so imperative that your sister had to utter them to you?

“If you kill me prematurely, how will I come to show you all of the ways I was designed to please you?” Feyd spoke, breaking your chain of thought.

Still holding the blade, you licked your lips nervously. There was still so much you needed to know. So many questions you had that he seemed to be the only one with the answers.

“Get off of me and I will spare your life.” You commanded, convincing him that you still remained in control.

As you wished, he retreated from your figure. Extending a paled hand to his future wife and hoping that you did not see nor feel his arousal from the act of simply laying on top of you. With heavy breaths, you threw the blade to the other side of the room. Safe from his and your possession.

“You are an absolute vision when you’re upset.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Then I believe it is not far off to say that I will be the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your lifetime.”

“And what kind of man would I be to argue with facts?”Feyd snapped his fingers together and four bald women entered the room in a singular line. “These are your handmaidens. They have drawn you a bath and laid out fresh clothing for you.” Feyd said, cutting his eyes in their direction. “Show her the same respect you show me. A scratch or bruise found on her body earns you death, understood?”

“Yes, Na-Baron.” They spoke in sync. 

“If you’ll excuse me, My Dear.” He licked his lips, straining not to reach out and bring your body closer to his again. “I have a performance to prepare for.”

Feyd turned on his heels, heading for the exit before calling out one more time. “She is to be ready within the hour.”

You stood in the silence. The women staring at you with horror etched into the fabric of their minds. The Na-Baron was terrifying just on his own accord. Now, his Princess, his most prized possession beyond Arrakis, was entrusted with them. You couldn’t even begin to understand what was happening before you.

The prophecy could not have been fabricated. Granted, his soldiers could have informed him of your birthmark, but that appeared unlikely. Feyd wanted you to himself in every sense, just a mere scratch to your head landed his soldier in death. Instructing them to view your body within its indecency would never happen. 

In terms of what could be done, there was nothing. Your stomach tossing and turning before forming knots of panic. You were to be Feyd’s wife and the weight of the freedom of your people rested in your hands. 

It was to be married to the bachelor of darkness or to be complacent to the murder of more Fremen souls. 

While it was the most difficult pill to swallow, you were in the beginning stages of accepting your fate. Your entire life has been in preparation for you to be the Princess of the House of Harkonnen—and only now were you learning of your purpose.

Even with a million concerns roaming your mind, the biggest factor if it all revolved around Chani and how much she knew of this infamous prophecy.

band of brothers isn't 100% accurate, but i love the attention to detail given to the characters and the heart poured by the crew and cast to interpret/translate/adapt the veterans and their stories the best way they can on screen, getting their little quirks, nuances and habits that make these characters identifiable and familiar to the family and friends who grew up with them and knew them, like: liebgott cutting/shaving the hair of his fellow soldiers before d-day; perconte brushing his teeth and not smoking because, apparently, he was supposed to be smoking in the first scene he was in, but james madio, the actor who played frank perconte, talked to the perconte family and they said that their granddad didn't smoke; talbert pulling on his lips with his fingers; speirs looting and being a kleptomaniac; smokey's poem; luz being the jokester of easy; malarkey stealing a cigarette from (i think) skip in the ss samaria then from skip again in the mess hall in aldbourne; dick not smoking and not drinking; bill and babe's shared memories of philadelphia about tarhead and crazy joe; bull smoking a cigar instead of a cigarette; etc. etc. etc. it's small details like these—that don't even have major consequences on the main narrative, but rather are added plot points that make the characters feel so raw and real