#I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY FOLKS I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY

[naamahdarling]

This makes me livid.

I'm not going to assume this family wasn't knowledgeable or doing their utmost. I'm assuming they were doing everything they could.

But I need you to know.

This is not how it has to be, and there are things you can do to prevent this. Please do them so that you aren't stuck hoping to die or hoping your loved one will die.

If you or a loved one has a lot of medical debt or you know they will incur it, check laws in your state. Know your rights. We should not have to do this, but WE DO.

A person's will and how it is laid out has an effect on how and in what order debts are deducted from the estate, which can sometimes affect how much money beneficiaries get. If you have beneficiaries, get your wills in order! Get things set up to benefit debtors as little as possible. There are things that might be able to be done. If someone involved is disabled, find an estate lawyer experienced in their specific form of disability benefits (company, government/SSI/SSDI, etc.).

Spouses are NOT necessarily responsible for their partner's medical debt. The estate of the deceased IS, but individual debt collectors from clinics or care facilities are severely limited in what they are allowed to collect on from the actual survivors. DO NOT TRUST THEM IF THEY SAY THEY CAN. There are laws about them not being allowed to lie to you but they will still try. My ex worked in the industry for YEARS and was extremely aware of the predatory shit shady companies or even just shitty individual agents would pull. Never trust a debt collector. Ever. Know your rights, understand debt collection, record all calls.

In some cases, especially involving state funding of end of life care, and situations involving disabled folks (deceased or beneficiaries), the state may not legally be able to evict a survivor to collect that debt from the liquidated estate (i.e. selling the house after kicking you out).

Children are almost NEVER liable for ANY FORM OF parental debt.

Never ever ever pay a single penny on a debt you did not cosign or take on yourself. Do not even verbally acknowledge the debt on the phone. Claim to be unaware of it and state that it is not yours until they show proof. In general, unless it's trivial, and you do intend to pay right away or make arrangements right away, don't acknowledge even debts that are yours, not even verbally, until they have proven to you that you owe them, and force collectors to communicate leaving a paper trail and send you documentation of everything. Record calls using Talker ACR and Talker ACR Helper. If they say you have 90 days to dispute, wait 89 days and then dispute it, even if it is accurate and you know it. If the collector isn't the original place that owned the debt, insist the collection company show proof they own the debt. Contact the original place and see if you can still settle the debt there for less. Delay, deny, defend yourself. Draw things out as long as you can by their rules and seek legal advice. Fight. ACT LIKE THEY DO. BE A HORRIBLE PIECE OF OBSTRUCTIVE NITPICKING SHIT.

If you marry, get a pre-nup that lays out your debt arrangements, do it in a way that keeps your finances and debt as separate as possible. Pre-nups are not just for people who don't trust each other. They are a powerful tool to protect yourselves from predatory practices outside the marriage as well.

YOU CAN PROTECT YOURSELF AND YOUR LOVED ONES. YOU CAN PROTECT YOUR ASSETS. DO NOT LET THIS HORRIBLE SHIT HAPPEN UNOPPOSED, AND NEVER ASSUME THAT THE SYSTEM IS TOTALLY UNSTOPPABLE.

YOU PROBABLY CAN'T KEEP EVERYTHING BUT THEY DEFINITELY CAN'T TAKE EVERYTHING EITHER.

FUCKING FIGHT.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 5:

1083 words on this one. Had it done for a few weeks, only now posting it. Sorry for that delay, folks! The last part is MOSTLY done too, I just need to read it again one last time. Then I’ll have a vote on what Starscream thing to write next.

Part 4: here

——————————————————————————

The…

wings?

“If you’re alright with that?” She added, and Starscream flinched, those very wings pricking up as he returned to reality.

“You’re- you’re really dedicated, aren’t you?” He smirked, slowly but gradually shedding the panic from the vent cleaning and returning to his usual self.

“Hmm, yes. I think I will allow you to.”

Starscream, seemingly fully embracing the fact that he was being given a spa day and that he totally deserved it for some reason, sunk back into the water lying on his cockpit. His arms were crossed under his helm, knees bent back so that his lower legs sticking out of the water.

The human about to climb over the tub suddenly stopped, contemplated logistics, and decided she was too tired to care if this was weird before promptly climbing onto Starscream’s back. The seeker’s wings fluttered and he made a sound of surprise when she settled between them, but he did not protest. Lifting his head he tried to look over his large shoulders, quickly giving up and returning to his previous position with a sigh.

“There ya go, stretch them out.” The human instructed as she gently brushed her hand over the length of one wing to guide him, having to lean over to actually reach all the way to the tips.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Starscream muttered back, although there was no real bite to his voice. He seemed almost sleepy again.

They felt very solid, smooth as they glided under her fingers. Barely any seams or imperfections sticking out. Not even the fastest human-made aircraft had wings this smooth. Weighted and rigid in her hold, yet with an elegance about them at the same time. She moved her fingers all over the surface, being firm but not rough while trying to spread soap all over the jet’s wings, coating them in white and bubbles. As for Starscream, the worst of his tension seemed to have melted away. It had been a long time, and he was annoyed to admit that this touch made him feel almost nostalgic. It was difficult to give his wings a through clean, without a trine to help him tend to them. As proud of his frame as he was, this was something he would not entrust to, or ask of, just anyone.

“Why don’t you extend your flaps too?”

“Excuse me?” He replied, lifting his head out of the water, brows furrowed.

“Want me to get everything, don’t you? Come on, quit holding out on me.” She grinned, patting him on the back. He could tell there was a personal fascination mixed in with her desire to clean him up. This human was a flyer, after all.

“Hmph.” His wings flared back in exaggerated offense, sending bubbles flying around.

“Hey!“

“Who do you think I am? One of your common ‘training aircraft’? Asking for my wing surfaces so casually.” He questioned, head propped up on one arm and tapping a talon on his cheek. “A word of advice: You really should stop taking this view for granted, pilot. Don’t think your choice of seating has escaped my notice.”

That made her chuckle, and he chuckled too. Starscream shrugged and quickly admitted mock defeat, keeping up his smug tone.

“But, I suppose since you’re so desperate and eager, I will take mercy on you.” His words were emphasized with the fluttering of his wings, and he gave a pause for dramatic effect.

Finally, with a sly grin and a satisfied expression, the seeker relented and held his wings up high. His high-lift devices extended swiftly. It didn’t feel mechanical at all, the way he moved them. There was no delay, no struggle, only a slight click when they locked into position. They moved just like any other part of his body, and that reminded her just how alive Starscream was. Flaps trailing from the back, and slats from the front. Except since the wings sat inverted on his back it was actually the other way around. They looked bigger now, the new pieces fitting seamlessly with the rest of the surface.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She replied without taking her eyes off him, and it made the seeker feel proud despite knowing she was only joking. The human resumed her work now that she had access to the entirety of his wings, scrubbing, every now and then moving her hand lower to scratch at the base where they would connect with his back. She took notice of how the jet shivered when she did that. Ailerons twitching in a way that she likened to feeling tickled. Wings tensing, shaking ever so slightly.

“You really do have some beautiful wings, Starscream.”

If Starscream himself was aware of it, he was too relaxed at this point to care. His frame was vibrating so faintly she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been sitting on his back, and the soft purr of his idling engine was nearly drowned out by the rush of the water she was rinsing him with. But it was there, unmistakably so.

“Of course I do.”

The seeker allowed her fingers to stick into the joint where his wings met his back without much more than a startled hum, burying his face into his arms as he felt her rooting around in search of debris.

“You’re not completely terrible at this, you know. You’re obviously unfamiliar, but considering you’re a human… you’re not bad at all.” His voice was soft. Unguarded.

“You think so?”

“Hmmm, yes. I do.”

The seeker stood up, albeit slowly, allowing her to safely slide off his back.

“In fact, I think I’ll return for another wash sometime.” He added with a cheeky grin.

“Hang on, I’m not done rinsing the soap.”

“That’s alright, I will manage.”

He shook his wings gently, the movement brushing off most of the remaining bubbles and water- part of it raining onto her- before he leaned down to awkwardly give her a pat on the head. This was definitely the calmest she’d ever seen Starscream.

“You’re leaving?”

Starscream hesitated, wings twitching as his expression turned to one of contemplation. He’d intended to do so on autopilot, but hadn’t given it enough thought whether that was the best course of action.

“It is best if I do, yes.” he finally replied, stopping as if he wanted to say more.

“Thank you.” He looked down at her and forced the words out. They felt awkward out of his voicebox. Unfamiliar.

[straightoutthehexcore]

"Honey"

Pit fighter Vi and every other design change of hers after that can 100% get it. All day, every day. She could punch me square in the nose and I'd lap up the blood, savor the metallic taste, and thank her profusely.

Characters: Vi

Synopsis: General smut headcanons for Vi, technically Vi x AFAB! reader

Content Warning: NSFW themes (public sex, oral (fem. anatomy receiving), strap-on sex, masochism if you squint (mere mention), praise kink, mentions of tribbing/scissoring, soft dom (for the most part), overstimulation)

"She's hell in a basket, just making a racket I love every second, it's fucking fantastic."

Canon lesbian, not deviating from that. no need to bombard my requests and replies this time folks, learned my lesson.

Heavy switch, gives off top energy but could be either/or on a given day. I used to think that she was mostly a top, but after careful research watching a bunch of CaitVi scenes, yes that one too I realized that wasn't the case.

May or may not be a virgin, depends on if we're talking B.C. (before Caitlyn) or A.C. (after Caitlyn). For me personally, it's after Cait (I love crashout alt women).

I once saw a post where someone said that Cait and Vi can literally only fuck in prison cells, and that basically informed my headcanon that Vi, more than Cait, is really into public sex,

It's in the clicking heels that walk past and the small noises that make you jump as you shiver while she lays gentle kisses on your neck and collarbone. The touch of her fingertips on your sides linger, and you're genuinely a little worried but Vi's reassurance whispered into your ear makes it hard not to give in.

"Come on baby, you're okay. Besides, nothing they can do that I can't do worse."

Really good at oral, loves sucking the clit specifically because it results in an ecstatic gasp from her partner. Her grip on your supple skin is also very tight, and she'll also rub the skin of your ass or outer thighs (maybe even inching up your sides) while eating you out.

THRIVES in the 69 position, she loves having her face sat on. Already wrote about this before but it still stands.

LOVES having her hair tugged on and having you fuck/buck up into her face while giving oral.

She likes being treated roughly as a bottom too, so in whatever mood she's in, she's a slight masochist.

Bigger on strap fucking that tribbing/scissoring/etc.

Will do tribbing/scissoring for her partner (and doesn't really hate it), but doesn't necessarily prefer it.

The strap exclusively belongs to her.

Why yes, it is a HexStrap, how did you know?

Pretty good stamina, so she could top for a while. It all depends on how long you can keep up. She's a really considerate lover.

She does have her moods where she takes out her stress/anger out on you in bed, overstimulating you and taking pleasure in your cries, whimpers, and labored breaths as she teases that she knows you can cum for her one more time.

"Do it for me, I know you got it in you, just one more..."

Other than that, though, generally she's a kind lover who praises you and reassures you that you're doing just fine, your gummy walls squeezing around her strap every time she circles your clit and hits that same spot inside of you harmoniously.

"Good job, sweetheart. Taking it so well, I'm proud of you."

Also gives really sweet, meaningful, yet hungry kisses. In general, but definitely during sex.

She is a praise kink haver's wettest dream, between the voice and the idea of an edgy, dominant futch woman telling you that you're taking her cock better than she thinks anyone could.

She also kinda has a praise kink, so definitely make sure to remind her just how good she's fucking you or how it feels seeing stars with her head bobbing as she show you heaven on Runeterra.

But most importantly...

She'd 100% leave you for Cait. Any day of the week.

"Well she stings like she means it, She's mean and she's mine."

Hello hello hello once again! Figured I'd try this again... because I wanted to. The gay late night thoughts go crazy.

Oh yeah: to the same people reading this post after literally harassing me over this character’s sexuality (you know who you are), don’t do that again. I already took responsibility for what I did, but I’m telling you to not do that.

I don’t appreciate being insulted in my requests because I chose to turn off replies for a little bit because a lot of you guys were being rude asf over a fictional character. I appreciate those who were trying to kindly explain it, but when others are acting rude over things like this, it’s just annoying.

On a more light hearted note, I chose this song as the title n stuff because I remembered listening to it and being like "oh, this kinda reminds me of Vi," but I listened more while writing this and realized it was so CaitVi coded, specifically from Cait's p.o.v.

So long box munchers (affectionate), Rosey <3

Masterlist is here for everyone! See ya! <3

[natalievoncatte]

“She’s dying.”

Cait looked up from the spread of paperwork on her desk -no one told her that seizing sold command of the city as a military dictator would involve so much paperwork- and found Loris standing in her doorway.

“I was under the impression that you’d handed in your badge and left the force.”

“She’s dying.”

Cait said nothing, scratching at one of the papers with a pen, signing off on something that most certainly did not require her attention.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She looked away, but still he dared throw a broad shadow across the room, across her.

“Yes, you do.”

Cait let out a low, rasping sigh, a deep gurgle of frustration in the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into her desk and she itched to hold a gunstock in her hands. She was tired of these problems, she was tired of challenges she couldn’t just shoot, like Ambessa ramping up the pressure to lead a full-strength incursion into the Undercity to clear the Lanes. Rooting out the chem barons hadn’t been ending, it turned out, as they were almost a stabilizing influence and… and she had seen artwork of Jinx, the people of the Lanes seeing her as some kind of folk hero.

“She disobeyed my orders and abandoned our mission. Because of her, Jinx escaped. Trusting her was a mistake.”

“Not how she told it.”

Exasperated, Cait spun, ready to order him to leave lest he end up in Stillwater himself, but then she froze. Is that how she handled her problems now, by locking then up in dungeons without a trial?

How had it come to this? She finally had the authority she craved in her hands and yet it seemed every move she made worsened the very problems she’d dedicated her life to solving. She had almost died to show the city what the Enforcers could be, had pleaded with the Council to show the Undercity grace, to recognize what their people and their government had done to their neighbors… and now she was the Council, and how would she now receive those same pleas she’d once made?

Loris regards her coolly. The big man held his cards close to the vest, didn’t show emotion, but during their strike raids he’d taken on a protective role over all of them, the oldest member of the team. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a mentor, or even a friend, he was her subordinate, but she did respect him.

“She’s been making her way fighting in the pits. She fights all day and drinks all night, barely eats, barely sleeps. By the time I left I don’t think she’d eaten I three days and she lost two straight bouts to jobbers. It’ll kill her soon enough, the bottle or an opponent with something to prove or just some random thug with a knife. Is that what you want?”

Cait kept her face schooled, her posture prim. How dare he speak to her so frankly?

The trembling in her legs, she couldn’t fight, nor the impulse to worry her lip with her teeth. She suddenly felt five years old again, confessing some petty transgression to her mother. What would her mother think of what she’d done?

“What are you suggesting.”

“We bring her home. Go in, get her, get out through the vents. Quick and quiet, no uniforms. Just us.”

Cait hesitated. This could be a trap- some wannabe ruler of the Lanes might have put him up to this to lure her into the Undercity to be dealt with directly. No, she wasn’t that much of a fool.

Her jaw twisted. Good gods she’d have someone tasting her food next. What was she turning into?

“We need someone else to watch our backs. Maddie.”

Loris nodded. “Sooner we go, the better.”

“I’ll ready myself now.”

“You’ll need a disguise.”

“I have one.”

Cait hadn’t worn these clothes since the night she lay on her bed, sharing secrets with Vi, trading gentle touches. If she had to pinpoint a moment that she’d fallen in love with Violet it was the gentle way she took Cait’s hand and pressed it to her cheek, such adoration in her eyes.

What had she done?

The three of them stole into the Undercity the same way they had as a team- the ventilation shafts. Loris knew the way.

As they worked their way through the always and twisting warrens of Zaun, Cait could only think of the first time she’d come here- scared and trying to put on a brave face as she rushed after the brash, confident brick wall of a woman she’d followed here, desperately hoping that her sudden conviction that it was a terrible idea was wrong.

It actually turned out worse than a terrible idea. She’d almost been blown up, had been kidnapped, almost murdered by Silco’s men if not for Vi punching out an entire tower structure.

It had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“We’re here,” said Loris.

“It looks like they dump bodies here,” said Maddie, looking up at the tenement.

“Shut up,” Cait snapped, remembering something similar she’d said once, not knowing the reverent meaning the place held for Vi.

Loris looked up at one of the windows.

“We’d best hope she’s here. If she’s not we’re going to have trouble.”

“Lead the way.”

Cait kept her head down and her hood up -they’d all be killed if she were recognized- as the trio made their way up. Vi was living in a flop house. All around were Shimmer addicts. Cait felt her gut seize as she saw them trembling, pale and sweaty and rubbing at sores.

She had taken away the chemical that kept the worst of it at bay for them, but then what had she done? Just smashing the chem barons didn’t reverse the harm they’d caused. The addicted were still here.

When they reached Vi’s room, Loris knocked and the door swung open, unbarred.

At first, Cait thought this a mistake, or that Vi had moved on, but then she realized the broken form lying on the narrow, sweat-stained bed was Vi.

She’d lost weight, and was pale as a sheet except for the profusion of bruises and scrapes that covered her back and arms. There were bottles and broken glass strewn about everywhere and the wall mirror was shattered, as if from a punch.

Cait, forgetting herself, rushed to Vi’s side and knelt by the bed.

“Vi? Vi? Vi, wake up.”

Glassy eyed, Vi didn’t seem to see her.

Swallowing hard, Cait probed, quickly checking her over for injuries.

She had a broken rib at the very least. Fuck!

“Vi?”

“Cupcake?” Vi murmured. “Are you real?”

“Cupcake?” Maddie broke in. “Is she hungry?”

“Shut up,” Cait hissed. “We have to go, we’ve been here too long already.”

“Let’s get her to the vents and back topside,” said Loris.

“Help me carry her,” said Cait.

“I’ve got her,” the big man said.

Something in Cait crumbled when she saw how easily he lifted Vi from the bed. Cait pulled her hood low and they swaddled Vi in what they could find, scrambling to avoid notice. Cait’s heart pounded with every step and she was sure they’d be spotted and mobbed and Zaun would be parading the body of the Commander of Piltover around the streets by morning.

Somehow, they made it. As the approached the bridge crossing, Cait her the sounds of rifles racking and threw back her hood.

“Get out of my way,” she snarled.

Her Enforcers obliged.

“Where are we taking her?” said Loris.

“Home.”

As soon as she was able, she arranged for transport and Loris lowered Vi onto a stretcher. It might have been better to conduct her to a hospital, but Cait would have none of that.

She took Vi home, had her men lay Vi in her bed, then harshly ordered them out.

“Thank you,” she said to Loris and Maddie.

The former nodded curtly and left. Maddie lingered for a moment, her eyes searching the room before she slipped out as Cait asked her to find her father.

Tobias appeared. Maddie did not join him, for which she was grateful.

Cait said nothing and her father kept his own council just as readily. They hadn’t been speaking much, the heartfelt talks and reminisces drying up as Cait threw herself into her work. She could sense her father’s distaste but above all else, he was a doctor. Cait waited as he made his examination.

Finally he said, “her torso will need binding for the broken rib, and those cuts will be needing treatment. She’s been drinking.”

Cait nodded.

“The withdrawal will be terrible for her.”

Cait nodded vigorously, biting her lip as she looked down at Vi.

“I’ll see to bringing in some nurses to help me. Stay back, and let us work.”

Her father called upon his own staff from the hospital and soon Vi was surrounded.

With all her authority, Cait could do nothing but watch as Vi’s ribs were bandaged for support. She didn’t wake through any of it, even as her body jerked while her wounds were cleaned and Cait herself unwound her wraps.

Her father ran a line into Vi’s arm and hung a bottle of fluids.

“I’ve started her on normal saline and a nutritional supplement, antibiotics to be administered every twelve hours on the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“I did it for you.”

Cait was not prepared to be alone with Vi but it happened anyway. She sat by the bedside and watched Vi breathe, her chest rising and falling steadily. She would call names in her sleep: Mom. Vander. Powder.

Cait.

Cait. Cait. Cait.

Vi called her name like a prayer, voice that of a lonely searcher calling out in the dark.

“I’m here,” Cait whispered, “I’m here, Vi. Just open your eyes.”

Hours stretched into a day, two. Cait was slumped in her chair when it happened, using her cape as a blanket.

“Cait?”

Her voice sounded different, somehow more coherent. It took Cait a stunned moment to realize that Vi was looking at her.

“Where am I?”

“I brought you home.”

Vi grunted as she started to sit up. Cait jolted to her feet and pressed her back down, gently.

“You’ve a broken rib, and the withdrawal.”

Vi fell back into the pillows.

“You should have left me where you found me, Cupcake.”

“I never should have left you at all.”

[moki-dokie]

also i think this just perfectly highlights this sort of specific mentality we see so often when discussing blockades people face in life - but you see it most around discussions about disability.

"Well *I* can do it" and "Just get ___" are two common rhetorics that get lobbed at you all the time.

Like, for one thing we are not talking about individual cases here, but thousands to millions. That you can find a solution yourself does not automatically mean it's a solution for the millions we're talking about. If it was, there wouldn't be a problem to begin with.

And lets be honest, if you're making a meal with TEN servings for $15 or under, it is not going to be a fully nutritional meal. Basically the only meals that can be made at that price are going to be staple grains or beans and MAYBE if you are very lucky, a very small amount of very cheap and low-quality meat. Sure, that's fine occasionally - it isn't detrimentally unhealthy - but it isn't the kind of meal you should be eating every single day for every single meal. Not only does your body require more nutrients than that, but you'll very quickly find how much worse bad, bland food can make your depression and a shitty situation worse.

There was a time when you could make alllll sorts of meals for $15 or less. Pretty healthy meals too! Ones that could last you a few days, even. But that was at a time when cans of tuna were still like 30c and less, when canned veg was like 20c, when eggs were not even a whole dollar for a dozen. i'm very fortunate that where i live is like cattle paradise and thus we have incredibly low-cost beef compared to the rest of the country, but even still it's hard to find your basic chuck roast under $10 now. fucking chicken breasts are hard to find for under $10. CHICKEN!!

and, let us not forget that minimum wage has still not yet raised since 2009. yet our jobs have grown exponentially harder and more stressful, our hours longer, commute times worse, and our general health is in the shitter bc nobody can afford having just a routine primary care physician anymore.

Yet the mentality is still somehow stuck in this early 00s era. That lifestyle is not sustainable anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.

And as for "just get ___" okay, so tell me how? Is someone without an appliance to cook with meant to just starve themselves for a week to save in order to buy said appliance? yes, you would save money if you could get a thing to cook with, but in the meantime you still have to eat. and yet again that doesn't address any other blockade that there may well be. so maybe they get like, a toasteroven and a hot plate. awesome. now what good is that if they come in from a 10 hour shift at 9pm and have only enough time to shower before needing to get to bed for the next day's shift? how does having that appliance help them if they can't physically operate it? how would having a hot plate save any money if their dietary needs are far too costly from a grocer? If they have no place to store cold ingredients?

It isn't about individual issues. It isn't just ONE thing that has caused this big stupid problem. solve one thing and there's seven more problems still blocking the ultimate solution. It's a whole fucking mess of issues that continue to get worse and worse as capitalism continues to suck up more of our lives.

and you know what, i'll be the first one to admit that SOMETIMES, yes, i am just fucking lazy. But most times, I'm faced with like five different blockades and some of them aren't even shit I listed - like sharing a house with three people who work very different shifts and when *I* have time to use the kitchen, I run the risk of waking someone else up. Even if nothing else stood in my way, I only have the ability to cook without disturbing someone 1 day a week. i can only imagine what a nightmare it must be for folks with 4 and 5 housemates on different schedules.

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

[aychama]

I really can't wait for more of this story to come. The direction it's taking is interseting so far and especially the rival spouses- THE JEALOUSY. I enjoy reading your comic and the angst that's coming towards us like freaking tsunami at some point.

Im really curious about few things tho:

1- Since some animals show instincts (Narinder purring / Lambert's bull anger), do some people hibernate/sleep in winter? Do bat-folk sleep during night and wake up during morning?

2- Does your world has those lesbian lizards? Like, the female only species?

3- Who is Mystic Seller in your au?

4- Will we see Forneus at some point? 👀

5- Your characters are mostly anthropomorphic but how does fish folk work?

Sorry if i asked too many. I'm just curious :^ Hope you have a great day :D

(Bide sey, dipnot gibi, bazen buraya daha fazla yazmak istiyorum çünkü gercekten hikayeni severek takip ediyorum ama bokunu çıkartmakta istemiyorum. Acaba sürekli yazsam rahatsız mı olursun diye :p)

Thank you so much!!! Eheh boy do I have things planned with Chelsea and Theo...

I reveal a lot of my plot on my twitch streams btw :3c

Anyways lets answer!

1- Since they are all really human looking (although i should design more animal-folk) I think giving them animal like behaviours would balance some stuff right? But lets add human elements to it!

So only the wealthy or people with relaxed jobs (like artists, musicians etc.) would get to hibernate, while the common folk needs to work. But I feel like most would be understanding of certain speacies becoming less active during those times!

2- All kinds of animal folk could exist in this world. But those from the arctic and the desert only live in Kallamar's kingdom because they come from outside the 5 kingdoms with ships.

3- Havent thought about mystic seller yet

4- Yes! Forneus is the duchess of the strongest family in Narinder's kingdom and she fully supports Narinder.

5- Aquatic-folk and flying-folk would have like diffrent and stronger lungs.

Aquatic-folk can always live in both the land and in the water (most prefer land)

Flying-folk, depending on the speacies, have wings for arms (birds) or wings on their back (bees).

All of the animal-folk can cross breed and the child would strongly result with the look of one parent while having some little aspects of the other parent. (Lets think it like a beetle x dog = a fluffy beetle or a dog with beetle fangs or horns)

Even tho it is not forbidden to cross-breed, its mostly looked down upon so they arent that common.

(Hiç rahatsız olmuyorum merak etme 😌)

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Twenty

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, lots of violence, some of it graphic, blood, p n v, some dirty talk

A/N: Here it is, folks. The big one.

Perhaps it was fate, or some divine coincidence, that the worst sandstorm in recent memory happened to transpire on the wedding day of the Emperor's eldest daughter. You couldn't help but consider it as approval from the universe, that the fabrics of your world were convening to grant you success. And so, with thinly veiled delight, you watch the wedding guests descend from the sky in their lavish ships, framed by the whorls of sand and storm beyond the Shield Wall.

The storm was a perfect cover for your attack. You had planned it all down to the most finite detail -- the moment the storm arrived, Fremen soldiers would take out the noses of the Emperor's defense convoy, rendering them useless, and then Gurney would shortly after deploy the Atreides family explosives to break open the Wall like an overcooked egg.

"It's not truly an act of nuclear warfare against one of the Houses," Feyd pointed out in the midst of battle strategy, sensing your hesitance. The last thing you wanted was to incite a universe-wide war.

Nerves tremor just beneath your skin. Using your oil lens binoculars, you observe the last of the wedding guests filtering into the Emperor's Hutment, an impressive, pyramid-shape structure that contains legion of Sardaukar. You hoped to interrupt the whole affair before the marriage could be made official, for Irulan's sake. Although she had been the leading force behind the disruption of your failed coup, you still wanted to spare the golden-haired princess from your brother-in-law's beastliness.

Beside you, your husband remains perfectly still. You know from the small flicker of muscle under his eye that he's less than pleased about the next part of your plan -- at your signal, the Fremen would summon the sandworms and lead you into battle. "They're too large and unpredictable," he tried to argue before. You suspected that he just hated relinquishing control to them. Glancing at Feyd from the corner of your eye, you needle your elbow into his side.

"Remember our wedding?"

Truthfully, it hadn't been that long ago, though it felt like centuries had since passed.

"Of course," he replies, dark gaze sliding to you.

"A lot has changed."

"I disagree."

You let your amusement color your voice. "How so?"

"We're still together, still exacting revenge against our enemies." Feyd's attention returns towards the distance, but his fingers brush over yours. "Only the circumstances have changed. But never my devotion to you."

"A comforting thought," you sigh.

"Whatever happens today, you do not face it alone. You'll never face anything alone again."

Proper etiquette be damned, you capture his hand and give it a squeeze. If the Fremen wanted to complain about the affection between their commanding officers, then you would answer. They still didn't trust you anyway, so what did it matter? The ghost of a smile forms on Feyd's lips.

Just then, a voice crackles in your earpiece. "Storm is predicated to arrive in approximately five minutes." Stilgar. He was part of your forces laying in the sand. Waiting.

Above the howling wind, you swear you hear the notes of a wedding march. There's not much you can make sense of, however, especially when the storm finally does encroach upon you. You're decked in protective gear and safety goggles, but they do little to deter the whirl of sand and tiny pebbles scraping over the exposed skin of your face not covered by fabric. The storm consumes you, envelops you completely. You signal to the Fremen and moments later, in your earpiece, you hear them confirm that they've taken out the noses of the Starship Lighter and it's convoy.

"Gurney," you say, raising your voice.

At the Shield Wall there's a fleeting, pregnant pause as you wait for the explosives to ignore and, when they do, you're in awe at the display of power, blowing a hole in the Wall wide enough for your forces but not large enough to immediately garner attention. And certainly not with the storm raging, masking your efforts.

Overwhelmed by the sight and sheer weight of your intentions, the cry that leaves your throat is not any word but rather a rallying scream. It gets your point across all the same. Dum. Dum. Dum. Around you the Fremen summon the sandworms with carefully spaced thumpers, a heartbeat beneath the sand.

And then a thunderous rumbling joins the sand and the storm, and the sandworms crest over the dunes, answering the calls of the thumpers. Like the fins of shark slicing through rough waves, the sandworms announce their approach, and soon you're rising unsteadily to your feet and squashing the alarm in your head. You've never ridden a sandworm before, but you were thoroughly vetted by the others. Disbelief spirals in you as you burst into a sprint, arms pumping. You might as well have been running into the abyss. You can't see anything in the pummeling storm but you sense Feyd nearby. Without warning, the rumbling grows louder and the ground disappears beneath your feet and you've crossed the point of no return. You're flying, weightless, until the sandworm's segmented body rushes beneath you and you crash into it.

Distantly, you know that you need to grab hold of it before you fall. Gloved fingers scramble for purchase, but the rough skin slides away from you. You panic. You should've insisted upon practicing, you should've listened to Feyd --

A strong arm wraps around your middle, tucks you closer. Filled with relief, you manage to tilt your head up and catch Feyd's profile amidst the howling storm. He holds you tight.

The sandworm forges ahead, carries you over the shattered Wall. You manage to your feet as you pass the barrier, and notice several things all at once -- the Starship Lighter stalling, then the flight tiny black specks in the sky, Sardaukar transport ships.

"There's so many," you breathe. It looks like a swarm of flies over a corpse, attracted to the promise of violence and death.

On the ground, expertly dodging the path of the sandworms, Feyadkin slash through the Emperor's defenses. There's only a handful of his soldiers, a predecessor to Sardaukar ships, but you're proud to see the Fremen holding their own. It was clear from your time during field missions that they fought extremely well, but you had never seen it unfold at such a grand scale. Even with the surge of Sardaukar landing they never falter, pushing closer and closer to the Hutment.

"There's fights for us yet," Feyd yells over the cacophony of sound. You're both holding on for dear life as you're catapulted over the outskirts of Arrakeen.

You yell back, "I want to be down there with them!"

He nods but doesn't respond. Feyd is in rare form -- completely focused on the task at hand, every fiber of his being concentrated, tense, waiting to strike. It emboldens you. A jolt of adrenaline pulses through you, heady with the knowledge of your flawless execution. You would not fail this time. You had no other option.

The army of sandworms arc for the Hutment. Lasgun blasts ricochet off their tough outer shell. You brace yourself for the impact of the Hutment's flank, the rapid-fire sound of battle joining the terrible crunching of the worms through metal. Squeezing your eyes shut, you flinch as debris scatters, the soldiers within crying out in surprise. But you're unharmed. You exchange a glance with Feyd as you both disembark, weapons bared, sliding off the massive sides of the creatures and landing with a thud on the ground.

There's something sickeningly sweet about the release of energy, of months and months of pent-up anger. You waste no time launching towards the closest Sardaukar. It's a dance, really. You lead, aiming for his leg, then dancing back when he tries to overpower you. The feel of your blade slicing through his armor and into his abdomen shouldn't delight you as it does. Mind singing, thrilled, you remove the blade and whirl it on the next soldier. Bodies moving, pushing and pulling, the coppery smell of blood heavy in the air, all underscored by a symphony of blades and flesh. Despite yourself, you grin.

The plan is to forge a path to the main ceremony. You and the Fremen carve through the Sardaukar, artists in your own right, cutting through stone, through bone, years of injustice the instrument of your work, the brush in the hand of the master.

And at the center of it all, Feyd-Rautha.

The former na-Baron fends off his opponents with a preternatural grace, enacting his violence with deliberation. Blood splatters his alabaster skin. There's not one footstep that he misplaces, not a trace of hesitation, as if he anticipates each move of the Sardaukar before then can even decide it for themselves. Your chest swells with affection as you catch glimpses of him in the frenzy. You've never been more grateful to have him by your side, at your command.

Your blade finds the throat of an enemy, retracts, finds the heart of another. There's a faint protest in your muscles -- it's been too long since you've fought this intensely. If you ever had. No amount of training could prepare you for this slaughter.

As if sensing this, Feyd draws closer until you're back to back, his twin daggers slicing. His presence is like the warmth of the sun. There's no need for words. If he lunges, you feign; he cuts, and you thrust. It's quite romantic, how he handles this, not a lapse in faith but rather a reinforcement of your combined strength.

You strike out with your boot to the closest soldier, connecting with their solar plexus. He crumples and you've just reached out to slam the handle of your dagger into the back of his head when his companion snatches your wrists and twists viciously. You cry out. The dagger clatters to the ground. Without missing a beat, Feyd sweeps closer, bending nearly into a curtsey. You grab his thigh to steady yourself and lean back into him, lifting up your foot and kicking it into the soldier that unarmed you. He stumbles, surprised. Feyd dispatches his current opponent in a series of well-placed jabs, then spins you around to give you enough time to recover. You reclaim one of the fallen soldiers' weapons. While he takes care of that soldier, you attack the others flooding towards you.

You fight with everything in you. You're not only fighting for the Fremen but for yourself, your family.

When there's finally a lull, you catch Feyd snarling into the face of a Sardaukar before stabbing his blade into its eye. The man spits out a splash of blood, the collapses into his arms. Feyd, cradling the man like a sleeping child, murmurs something in his ear. He lays him down and once he's back to his normal height, flicks out a tongue to wipe away most of the blood from around his mouth. Noticing you watching, he flashes you a rare grin.

"Red is your color," you tell him. The Fremen fighters pick over the bodies, waiting for your command.

"It's a nice change." His are bright against the carnage on his face. "Are you ready to ruin a wedding, my jewel?"

The upper levels of the Hutment are mostly vacant. A team of Fremen clear the area and eliminate any lurking Sardaukar. Music swells as you climb. When you reach the enormous double doors at the topmost floor, there's a line of soldiers waiting for you.

You bristle. The soldiers aim their weapons. "Turn away now," one of them command, "and we won't kill you all."

"We didn't come all this way just to be frightened by you," a Fremen hisses in reply. The soldier fires a blast that strikes the Fremen in the shoulder. Anger flushes you. The rest of your army charges the soldiers at the door.

While they exuded confidence, it hardly took any time at all to have them all on the ground, either dead or moaning in pain.

Surely the ceremony had heard the fighting outside. The doors are fortified, but it only takes a few carefully placed shots from one of the soldiers' lasguns to blast it open. Metal creaks and slides across the floor, heralding your entrance. You step through the rubble.

As expected, it's a beautiful ceremony, dripping with elegance. There's swaths of white lace around the hall and candles flickering in the golden braziers. The guests are dressed in their finest, suits and expensive dresses rustling as they whirl around. And, at the far end of the hall, stand Rabban and Irulan. The sight of Irulan stuns you -- she looks ethereal in her white gown and intricate veil and headdress. Rabban, on the other hand, looks like a monster stuffed into a suit.

His face morphs into one of pure rage. "WHAT?"

You can't imagine how you all look, bloodied and sandy, tanned by months in the sun. Feyd steps to your side.

"Hello, brother. Uncle. I'm afraid that you forgot our invitations. We didn't want to miss out on such a...joyous occasion." Feyd dips his chin to Irulan like this is all incredibly normal. "You look beautiful."

Irulan stifles what you imagine is a smirk.

"What is this? What are you doing here?" From near the front of the guests, the Baron floats into the air, a menacing image in all black.

"We've come to take back what's rightfully ours," you reply.

"Guards --" the Baron begins to order, but he's interrupted by the man at his feet.

"Stand down."

The Emperor doesn't look at all like the oil paintings you've seen of him. He's surprisingly small, hunched over like he's trying to fold in on himself. White hair sparsely covers his head. But it's his eyes -- deep-set and fiercely intelligent that startle you.

"You must be Leto's daughter. I've heard many things about you," he says, voice measured. "You're very brave, coming here today."

You hiss. "What do you know about bravery?"

You didn't need to explain yourself. He had been the one, after all, to orchestrate the fall of your House. Your father. In your chest your heart pangs, but you don't let the emotion translate onto your face.

"It's flattering, that you've done all of this just to speak to me." The Emperor sweeps out his arm, cloaked in a sleeve that drags on the floor. The silence in the hall is suffocating.

"It's not like I had any other opportunities," you say, "you were strangely absent at my wedding and any other function. You prefer to control everything from the shadows, don't you?"

"Why haven't you had them arrested for treason?" The Baron cries, huge form quivering with anger.

"We just want to talk," Feyd speaks up.

"Talk," the Baron spits, "you could've sent a message."

The Emperor turns his gaze to his daughter, who's staring at him expectantly. She drops Rabban's hands. He motions for her. "Irulan, my darling, come here. The ceremony will be...postponed."

Rabban storms down the altar's stairs after Irulan. "You can't ruin this wedding! I was going to be next in line for the Emperorship!"

"Don't put me in the ground yet, Rabban," the Emperor growls.

Rabban doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"If you want to talk, then," the Emperor says, "talk."

You don't see any reason to mince your words. You thrust your chin into the air as you demand, "Step down from the throne."

Silence follows. A thin, brittle laugh leaves the Emperor, who's regarding you with a newfound interest. The guests chuckle nervously in return.

"And why would I do that, child?"

"We've dismantled your ship. You can't leave until you agree to our terms."

The Emperor's smile is lethal. "If you haven't noticed, we have an entire armada pointed at our ship. Unless you want to risk the lives of your men and everyone on Arrakeen, then you will stand down."

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," Feyd growls.

Your secret weapon.

"We've seized control of the spice mills. Of your spice sources. If anything happens to us, I'll give the signal to destroy them all."

This time, an uneasy rumble descends over the crowd. Not only would you deplete an export of spice, but the Guild Navigators wouldn't be able to pilot the ships without sufficient spice. The entire armada, including the Emperor and his Hutment, would be stuck permanently on Arrakis.

The Baron glares at you. "You wouldn't."

"I would." You shrug. "I do not obsess over it such as you."

"And what do you propose? That I just hand my crown over to you?"

The Emperor stands calmly besides his daughter, whose facial expression you can't quite read. You regard him thoughtfully. "Yes."

"This is absurd," he seethes.

"Just say the word, and I'll destroy the spice mills. All of them."

A moment passes, the few seconds before your world tilts on its axis. You don't see the poison dart, or hear it. It buries into your shoulder with surprisingly subtlety, cementing it's existence with a rush of heat in your bloodstream. You look at it, shocked. You waver.

Chaos explodes in the hall. The Emperor whips around to the Baron, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

It's been too long. You haven't dosed on poisons since your accident, not the kind embedded in the dart's needle-like tip.

You have just enough clarity to see Feyd transform in an instant, the image of a dignified soldier ripped away into the face of a beast. His face crumples. He roars, the sound tearing through the ruckus. Darkness floods the edges of your vision. As you stumble back, one of the Fremen catch you in her arms. Chani's voice washes over you, your name, over and over. "Stay awake!"

You have a feeble hold on reality, teetering in and out of your grasp. The hall erupts with screams. Flashes of Feyd dominate your fading vision. He's slashing through the wedding guests, snarling, effortlessly working his way towards the front of the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut. You try to focus on the poison, swimming in your veins with an unrelenting ferocity, and imagine yourself directing it out of your body. It can't end. Not like this.

All of your anger, you desperation, bubbles to the surface. In an effort to rid yourself of it, you push all of these feelings towards the poison, a defensive measure that feels too absurd to work.

The Fremen have joined Feyd in his rampage, shouting about Muad'dib -- about you. Violence swirls all around.

You can feel the poison retreating, shrinking in on itself like a cowering animal. A terrified shriek rings out and your attention wavers slightly, redirected towards the front of the hall, where Feyd is locked in combat with his brother, who is trying to defend the Baron. The Emperor and Irulan have been seized by two Fedaykin, the former who thrashes angrily. Irulan's eyes are on you.

Her fingers twitch and, even in your drugged state, you understand what she's telling you. You mean to bring peace.

Let me, you sign back, please.

She nods, delicate chin dipping. Irulan shrugs off the Fedaykin, suggesting that she had just been letting them restrain her, then raises both of her hands. "CEASE!"

The Voice reverberates through the hall. Such a powerful display -- you had never seen anyone command so many at once. But the weapons all clatter to the ground, the movements stilling. Everyone but one, it seems.

Feyd steps around Rabban, who has frozen in place. He leaps onto a pew and pushes off the back, launching himself upward onto the Baron. The Gom Jabbar glints in his fist. The sound of the needle jabbing into his fat neck echoes, the subsequent fall of the patriarch, crashing onto the floor and twitching with great enthusiasm until he finally lays still. Feyd steps away from the mass of his uncle.

"Irulan!" The Emperor yells, horrified. "What are you doing?"

"He sent the call for the poison dart. There didn't need to be more violence," Irulan hisses in reply.

The Emperor growls at the Fedaykin. "Unhand me!"

"Father, stop." She's not using The Voice, but her tone is powerful enough without. "No more fighting. No more betrayal. Whatever she has to say, you will listen."

Residue of poison still lurking in your veins, you do your best to pull yourself into a respectable position. Feyd relaxes slightly. You fix a stare at the Emperor. "You will revoke your claim on the crown."

Irulan glares at her father. He sags, defeated. "I...I relinquish my control to you."

"Not to me," you say, "but your daughter." The golden-haired princess startles, blinking at you. You continue, "She is deserving of the title. And my husband and I will work in tandem with her as the Duke and Duchess of both Arrakis and Giedi Prime. I appoint Stilgar as the Governor to rule in our place when we are away."

It's not something you've talked about before, but you know in that moment that it's the right decision. You find his face in the gathered crowd and he nods his agreement.

This proposal surprises the Emperor, but he softens as he looks at his daughter. She nearly shines in her white dress, a celestial being, a slant of light falling over her. "Fine," he says. His shoulders shake slightly. "And what will you do with me? My supporters?"

"They will either swear their fealty to Emperess Irulan or die. As for you," you say, anger flaring, "you will be taken prisoner to answer for your crimes against the House Atreides. Against Arrakis and it's people and everyone else you have ever impacted."

“Prisoner.” The Emperor’s upper lip curls.

“Unless you want to die with the others who won’t swear their fealty?” You ask.

“Just go with them,” Irulan tells her father. The words for now go unspoken. You ignore this. Unlike the Baron, whose body lays at the altar, he won’t get such an easy escape.

The Fremen start collecting the wedding guests, herding them through the hall and back into the Hutment. You informed them earlier to lead any resisters to the palace — you looked forward to reclaiming it again. The last few people are escorted from the hall when the chanting starts.

“Muad’dib! Akrab! Muad’dib! Akrab!”

Hope buoys inside you. The Emperor brushes past you, and you shout, “Empress Irulan!”

The chant shifts to her name, until all three of your names are lifted to the sky like an offering.

Feyd eventually orders them to leave, to prepare the palace for your arrival. They don’t question him, which leaves you both alone in the hall. It’s the first time that you’ve really looked at him since this morning. He’s soaked in blood, and there’s a bruise forming on his cheek, but you’ve never seen him look so beautiful before.

He’s a physical manifestation of everything you’ve done, what you’ve done for each other.

“Jewel —”

You run to him.

Feyd crashes into you, arm coiling around your middle and pulling you into him, his mouth bruising yours. He’s damp with blood, the smell of copper flooding your senses. Despite it all, you groan, clambering to get as close to him as you can. His hand moves to cup the back of your head as his tongue drives past your lips, hungrily seeking you out. Desire pulses through you. When he crumbles to his knees, he takes you with him, lowering you onto him.

You straddle him. Beneath you, he is a righteous angel, the smears of blood on the floor like crimson wings.

“Take these off,” he rasps, tugging at your clothes, “now.”

It’s not easy, but you manage, hovering over him as you peel off your armor and underclothes, then finally your underwear. Feyd watches intently as you pull the material down your hips and over your thighs, his calloused hands grabbing at you, gaze roaming over every new inch of exposed flesh. Impatient, a growl rumbles in his chest, and he pulls you down onto him. He smears streaks of crimson on your breasts as he works his thumb over your stiff nipples, taking the other in his mouth and sucking, teeth grazing.

You inhale sharply. With fervor, you grind your hips into him, desperate for friction. Feyd pushes up into you. His cock, straining at his pants, rubs against your center. Eager, you roll with him, his pupils blown as he watches you, fingers digging into your hips and guiding your movement.

There’s something wild about him in this moment. Feyd is laid bare, bloodied and violent, plush lips parted. And you somehow love him more like this than you ever have, stripped of any pretenses or expectations, just dangerous and ugly and raw — and he’s seen every corner of your own darkness and never flinched away.

Suddenly aware that he’s overly dressed, you begin tugging at his armor until he gets the hint and helps the process, muscles flexing as he pulls it over his head and discards it nearby. You can’t help it, you slide your hands over his chest and down his stomach. When you reach the waistband of his pants, he inhales through his teeth, cock twitching and sending a pulse to your cunt. “Such a dirty whore,” he teases you, “so eager for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, fumbling for the latch.

“You want it inside you?”

You squirm in anticipation. “Yes.”

Feyd pushes your hands away. He manages to shed his pants in a single movement and kick them to the side, revealing his long, thick cock to your gaze. Your cunt clenches. Feyd rocks you forward slightly then fists his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before guiding it into you. You sink into him, shivering with the pleasure of him, warm and filling, and crying out when he drives impossibly deep inside you, splitting you open.

You rock deeper, pain erupting in your knees from the hard floor as you spread your legs to take him. And he fucks into you with blinding intensity, slamming into you up to the hilt, drawing out an embarrassing amount of gasps and squeaks from you. You feel as if you might be on fire, seared by his passion, body aching with every thrust, trembling with the force of him. He hisses and a look of pure lust, pure concentration, crosses his handsome face, brows furrowed, breath sawing from chest with the effort. Feyd snarls — actually snarls — and pumps into you harder, faster, hips snapping at a speed that dizzies you.

“Fuck, Feyd,” you hiss, “you feel so good.”

“Shut up,” he growls. As if in punishment, he throws you off him and now you’re beneath him and he’s looming over you, burning fiercely with passion. Feyd grabs each of your ankles and lifts your lower body so that you’re exposed to him, then spears into you fully. You cry out.

Pleasure shoots through you with each jolt. Overcome with it all, with him, your head rolls to the side. Only a few feet away, the body of Vladimir Harkonnen lays in a heap. You stiffen in shock — how had you forgotten?

A rough hand grabs your face, forces you to look straight into the eyes of Feyd-Rautha. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

He’s adjusted your position to do this, to keep you staring at him even as your emotions surge and tears spring to your eyes, propping one of your legs onto his shoulder. Feyd applies pressure to your clit, smearing more blood on your lower belly, massaging and rolling your most sensitive spot as he ruts into you over and over, building with his own desire.

You lose all sense of time, of yourself. You might as well have been spiraling out of control, stuck in weightless suspension. All you focus on is him. Feyd-Rautha. Former na-Baron. Your husband. He’s the center of your world. And when you come you wail his name like a prayer, Feyd follows shortly after, pumping his seed inside you.

You lay like that for some time, entwined, panting and trying to catch your breath. Once you’ve mustered enough clarity, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” There’s no trace of turmoil or regret in his dark eyes. “Are you?”

“Fine,” you repeat back to him. You touch the spot at your shoulder where the flip dart had been embedded. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Perhaps it was leftover tolerance.”

“Perhaps.” Admittedly, you don’t want to think about how you had practically willed the poison away. You don’t want to think about anything. Frankly, you just want a hot shower.

As if reading your mind, Feyd says, “There’s a celebration waiting for us at the palace.”

“I know,” you sigh. Both of you collect your clothes, leaving your armor where it is. There’s a strange calm that’s settled itself around your shoulders. When you finish dressing, you catch Feyd glaring at the Baron. You touch his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He tears his gaze away. “It happened so…easily.”

“I can’t say that I’m sorry you did it.”

“He hurt you.” Feyd’s face closes like a fist. “After all this time, I thought — nevermind what I thought. He can’t hurt anyone again.” He starts towards the door, leaving you to scurry after him. You know he’s more anguished about the situation than he’s willing to share, but you’ll wait to wrest the truth from him.

For now, you just want to be with him.

As he expected, the celebration is raging at the palace, Fremen and other Arrakeen residents brimming out in the heat-scorched courtyard and within the corridors. They congratulate you and pat you on the back as you pass by, their previous animosity forgotten in the post-battle victory.

You smile warily at them and do your best to appear as ecstatic as they are. You can’t believe that you’ve done it, that you’ve found an unlikely ally in Princess Irulan. Without her, you’re not sure that you would’ve achieved what you did — taking control of the Known Universe, seating its positions of power with those that you trust. The first thing you do is seek out the golden-haired princess who, despite having just been crowned Empress, is found by herself nursing a drink.

“It’s about time,” Irulan says with an inkling of amusement. She takes in your disheveled state, smeared with blood, but thankfully doesn’t comment on it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was the right choice,” you say, sidling beside her.

“My Father won’t go down without a fight.”

“So we’ll fight.” You lift a shoulder. “Thank you. For what you did.”

“I owe you, from before. I’m sorry —”

You reach out and squeeze her hand. “Don’t be. We’re allies now. Friends.”

Irulan smiles. “Friends.”

Speaking of friends. You hear a familiar voice call your name, prompting you to whirl around in surprise. “Asha?”

“You’re here! You’re alive!” Your old friend sweeps you into her arms. She looks thin, thinner than you’ve seen her, but her eyes are glowing.

“What happened to you?” You ask. You can’t properly parse out all of the emotions that are crashing into you. When you left her behind —

Asha withdraws, holding you at arms length. “I was taken by the Baron. They kept me prisoner here. They released us, though, once they found us. The Fremen.” She smiles. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

You hug her again. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m glad that you’re okay, Asha.”

And, for the first time in a very long time, everything seemed to be perfect. At least, as perfect as they could be. Asha joined you at the table beside Irulan, who you promptly introduced; across the room Feyd kept his gaze trained on you, winking when you catch his eye.

You wanted to preserve that moment, contain it to later be marveled. You had done so much to get here — if only you knew how much more you would have to endure.

A/N 2.0: Did anyone catch my TLJ reference?👀 Also, Jewel's brief happiness before her life falls apart

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @sp4ceboo @dacreshoney @stopeatread @therealslimshady-1 @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy @aleemendoza2425-blog @forgedfromthestars @lovemyselfyay

[hippolotamus]

"How can you act like nothing happened?" + buddie if it inspires u <3333

Hi, April! Indeed it did inspire (just took a hot second to get all the details and i hope you like it) 💖🫶

What happens to them after? Buck had asked Dr. Salazar. They just go back to their same old lives? Go back to being the same old people? 

Some do.

When he was in her office, posing that question, he doesn’t even consciously know if he had Eddie’s experience in mind. Well, one of Eddie’s experiences. 

The soul shifting instance of Eddie falling in the middle of the street like a ragdoll. Not to mention the others. Eddie being buried alive under forty feet of earth. Eddie being trapped in a burning house, surrounded by fire on all sides. 

Buck’s had his fair share of near misses, they all have. So why does Eddie’s nonchalance bother him so much now? Is it because this time Buck actually died? For ‘three minutes and seventeen seconds’, Eddie corrected Chief Williams. He previously told Buck ‘you think you’re expendable, but you’re wrong’.

One time Buck asks what death was like for Eddie, and he answers as casually as if Buck asked about his day. 

Then I thought ‘this is it’. This is the last moment of my life. He shrugged. Then I woke up in the hospital.

Buck barges through the front door. No knocking, no checking if Eddie has company. He finds him folding towels at the dining room table, humming to himself. 

“Hey, Buck. Wasn’t expecting you… today.” Eddie trails off as he notices Buck’s demeanor.

“How can you act like nothing happened?” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie pinches his brows together in that way that Buck knows he’s flipping through a mental rolodex of recent memories. “Is this about the casserole last week? Because of the-”

“What? What about the- you know what? Nevermind, that’s not why I’m here.” Buck folds his arms across his chest, adding, “But we’ll come back to that.”

Eddie nods slowly, hand drifting to the laundry basket to pick up the next towel. “So, why are you here?”

“Because, Eddie. You told me I wasn’t expendable. You made me Christopher’s legal guardian if something happens to you.” He sniffs, angry that his emotions are choosing now to break loose, after weeks of feeling numb. “For Christ’s sake, you knew exactly how long I was dead.”

The assertion makes Eddie flinch, makes him stare a hole into the floor, astutely avoiding Buck’s gaze. 

“But you- you never wanna talk about it. Not when it comes to you.”

“Maybe,” Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, he cocks his head in annoyance, and Buck knows he’s onto something. He’s struck a nerve. “Maybe, because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh no? Y- you get shot down in Afghanistan, buried alive, shot again in LA, have a fucking breakdown and there’s nothing to talk about?” Buck steps forward, standing directly in front of his best friend, forcing him to look up. “Okay, well what about Chris needing therapy after the tsunami? Huh? What about going to dispatch because – you thought – Chris didn’t want you to be a firefighter anymore? Hell, that eventually got you to patch things up with your old man. But all those other things? Just another day in the life of Eddie Diaz. No need to stick around, folks, nothing happening here.” 

“Christopher is different, Buck. He’s my son.”

“And you’re my best friend. My partner.” My person, he doesn’t say, wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Doesn’t that mean anything? We’re all just supposed to deal with it if it’s you, and pretend to live our same old lives?”

Eddie purses his lips, backs away. He doesn’t even look in Buck’s direction when he says, “Please leave.”

Buck freezes. “What?”

“Get out, Buck. Before I do say something and we both regret it.”

He could fight back, keep prodding at the singular bruise spread across both of them. He wants to, wants Eddie to yell and scream. Something. Anything. In the end Buck isn’t sure why he doesn’t. All he knows is that in the space of a breath all the fight leaves him. All the fire and outrage deflates, making him feel emptier than before. 

When he reaches the front door, Eddie still won’t look at him. So he listens and turns the handle, walks over the threshold. He keeps going until he reaches the jeep, until he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, until he’s several streets away and sure no one will see him. Then he crumbles. He falls apart, wracked with sobs he knows will leave his body hollow and aching later. 

And he wonders- should he have kept pretending, too?

send an angsty prompt

[evol-astraea]

Desperate PC Tenno calling for help!

Calling all the tech-savvy players here on Tumblr who may hopefully lend me and tech support a hand. Yes, the situation is that bad. More under the cut to spare a lengthy wall of text!

I've been experiencing totally random and sudden crashes with WF since a month and half, by now.

The game first freezes for less than a minute, then crashes to desktop bringing up the window to report crashes. This happens literally anywhere and anytime in the game. During mission, at the end of the mission, while idling in the Orbiter/base of operations, sitting in the pause menu, checking the settings menu. All kind of possible scenarios. Ah, and DX11 or DX12 make no difference either.

It's driving me - and tech support - insane. Because it is so HARD to pinpoint the root cause! Every log file so far has reported some kind of General Protection Failure (GPF) error followed by different numbers.

I'm running the game on a brand new, pre-built computer from Megaport. Which I moved to from my old potato of a PC back in late November. Specs are the following: Windows 11 Home (build 24H2) Intel Core I7-12700KF, 8x 3.60 Ghz + 4x 2.70 Ghz ASUS Prime Z790-A Wifi DDR5 NVidia GeForce RTX 4070 Dual Palit 12GB 2x 32GB Corsair Vengeance RGB DDR5-6000 1 TB SSD 1000 Watt PSU

I have done everything tech support has suggested me to do and: - Uninstalled and re-installed the game, - Update drivers. Being a new computer, everything is pretty much up to date. I had to do a clean install for the GPU drivers only using DDU, though, - Verified game files, - Emptied the shader cache on the drive game is saved to, - Repaired Steam library, - Lowered graphic settings, - Attempted to launch and run Warframe in Clean Boot mode to exclude background programs/services <- unsuccessfully; Steam didn't work at all (which I kind of figured would happen) and trying to launch the game straight from the launcher...triggered a download of the game files in the App Data folder on main (C) drive. O_o The random crashes don't even appear in the Windows Event Viewer. Nowhere to be found. And believe me, I have looked into every single category. I've been keeping track of the time(s) of the crashes but, alas, found nothing that could possibly be related to those. (also, I'm not a computer expert so perhaps I'm doing things wrong)

So far, the only weird thing I've noticed is...Most of the times there seemingly is a "break" in between each series of crashes. A few days at worst, 10-12 days at best. Yes, I checked even the Task Scheduler utility on Windows. Found no program/app that runs automatically that matches with the timing/days when the crashes have occurred so far.

Really losing my mind to this. It's frustrating, it's unnerving, it's making me genuinely terrified of playing the game. And the reason I got this PC in the first place was being finally able to play my favorite game without worrying about being unable to because of my old (and obsolete) machine! Because I don't know when the next crash shall decide to happen and oh boy it's gonna be so fun losing progress. Or having a couple of players reasonably angry at me for suddenly poofing as host. I'm really sorry about that, folks.

I'm already considering the option of total formatting this computer, should there be no other way. But not before entirely giving up. And maybe make things a little less complicated for tech support team.

I can't thank these guys enough for their help and most importantly patience over the past month and half. This mess has been handed to three different people already and a solution hasn't been found yet.

So, if there are fellow Tenno on Tumblr who have either experienced something like this before and found a fix or are just more knowledgeable about computers and whatnot, your help would be GREATLY appreciated. ;.;

EDIT: I forgot to mention a few important things! - Hardware temperatures are within optimal range while in game (CPU never above 65°C, GPU has been running ice cold and has rarely exceeded 50°C so far, RAM is chilling at 45°C average). - GPU memory usage averages around at max (peak) 77% on HWInfo. - CPU usage I honestly need to check! D: - Ran disk cleanup, scans with sfc, chkdsk and DISM (all through command prompts ran as admin) and no issues were found. - Checked RAM health as well with Windows' memory diagnostic tool. However, it seems to give many false positives even on perfectly functional RAM banks. Looking for a more reliable alternative. - Warframe is the only game that keeps crashing on this PC. I haven't been getting any with other games/programs (Hades II; need to test how Ultrakill performs) or any warning signs (BSODs, freezes, sluggish PC, etc) that could suggest hardware failure.

[k1ngpin42]

This is rlly random but Violyn HC

(Yes I'm aware I didn't spell Caitlin right throughout the whole thing)

So in my opinion Cait tops- I just want to put that out there I feel like 100 percent shes in charge and Vi literally lives to service Caitlin. In saying that:

I randomly had this CaitVi headcanon that ever since their first moment in the prison Catilin will randomly ask Vi to 3at her out. The suddenness of it making Vi flustered.

For example they could just be walking down a street. Not many people around, Vi is discussing something random and interesting that happened in her day and Catilin will stop her and ask her to go down.

If they are in a public space, Catilin will still ask this of Vi, leaving her in an awkward and needy state in front of their friends as she finds ANY excuse to leave.

Catilin loves giving and receiving around equally, maybe with a slight preference for giving, (just so she can leave marks on Vi) but whenever Vi is going down on her she'll pet her head almost like a dog and Vi absolutely eats it up every time (literally.)

That's all folks. Do you agree?

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, second day of "Colin's Bridgerton smutty diaries" (thank you, @summerpearlgirl who used this as a tag).

Second part of the first episode. I already have some prompt lined up, so don't be shy! Enjoy this one!

---

"Madame was quite an education," continued Colin in a broken voice, Pen was taking more and more of him into her warm mouth and reading was becoming quite the struggle.

She bobbed her head a couple of time before noticing he stopped.

"Continue, darling"

"Although something was missing. While, after some practice, the physical part was quite interesting, my heart was not in it."

He closed the diary, the entry finished and looked at Pen's gorgeous blue eyes.

Of course his heart was not in it. How could it be if he was doing it with the wrong person.

He moaned when Pen took him even more, his hand now finding his way in her hair.

Still - he didn't want the night to end like that.

"Darling - fuck, you're amazing - I want to finish inside you"

Pen looked at him and pumped him with her hand a couple of time, before rising up.

With a swift move, Pen sink down on him. Both of them sighing when he entered her.

Pen adjusted her position on his lap, and then whispered to him "take me".

What a lucky bastárd he was, that he was married and in love with a woman like Pen.

He took her gorgeous ass in his hand, and starting to dictate a rhythm with his hips. His vision suddenly fill with her breasts moving. She was wild above him, her soinds growing louder as he did precisely what she asked.

It didn't took long until Pen started fluttering around him, indicating she was about to release.

"Colin - more - harder, please"

His little minx.

He did as asked, welcoming her release and waiting for the waves of pleasure to pass, before standing up, still entwined, and putting her on the desk.

He was taking her again, fast and hard, exactly how she liked. Servants and people who might overheard them didn't matter - he welcomed the knowledge that they all knew who was giving Pen that much pleasure.

She came again with a shudder, and now he could follow her into the blissul pleasure only she was capable of giving him.

They stayed on the desk, trying to breathe again for some time.

Then, Colin took a napkin to clean them, before kissing her deeply.

"we should do this again"

He laughed. That was an excellent idea indeed.

"Whenever you want darling, whenever you want."

The end

[galaxy-lilies]

Mg. Indie G. Lillies, I beg thee to please send the sketch and the lore dump.

(for context this is in the oc universe @star-captain cooked up and introduced to me way back when and we've just been building it since)

so there's this alien species called starborns that have a chance of being born when a star is made (thus their name) and they can be a multitude of different colors, they have white hair + star freckles, they don't need to breathe oxygen and bleed silver blood, however if their inner cores are disrupted by the gravity/gravitational pull of another planet it could cause their form to break down and die.

for shits and giggles avon and i were like "lmao what if the hermits were in this universe" and then boom, starborn Scar. we're still not sure what he did before he got onto the, well, Hermit craft (it's like a big ol ship where a bunch of mini ships can park/stay) but we do know when he was born, he was hurtling through space, got a liiiiittle too close to a sun, and crash landed and/or was rescued by folks who were able to make his initial prosthetics for his right arm and legs

thus began his journey planet hopping and exploring, he was growing out his hair a la s9 elf Scar style so by the time he ran into Cub it was long. Cub at this point was a mercenary too + a warden hybrid and when he captured Scar, the starborn kept on escaping his cell and messing with him. It wasnt until after 1) Cub realized that the bounty on Scar was to capture him for a cause he didnt agree with (trafficking), 2) the two start traveling together, and 3) when they finally stumble across the Hermit does Scar ask Cub to help him cut his hair

(Grian taking a look at what Scar is doing on the monitor)

But the main doodle I drew last night was before all of that, when the days of mercenary work, betrayals, and hurt had yet to reach Scar, and all he wanted to do was explore.

his design is probably gonna change a bit but yee yee, base lore, hope that ramble made sense

[vaguely-concerned]

the mourn watch background gives you such a GIFT in having other characters notice and call out on-screen that rook code switches like a motherfucker. the whiplash of hearing my snarky 'heeey I'm just a little guy! :>' funnyman rook speak the heightened ritualized phrases of the mourn watch with perfect seriousness and gravity completely naturally and/or break into an academic tone that can keep up with emmrich at the drop of a hat never stops giving me such endless delight. truly their real mind is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside some hideous mourn watch casual wear

[elany]

Yk what I want? I want a very early stages post canon labrumisu, but from Chilchuck's POV.

Imagine mister 'interparty romance is the devil' visiting court just to see these three circling each other like a pack of uniquely unhinged cats. And of course he sees it immediately, he's nothing if not perceptive and he's seen this happen so, so many times before. Kabru is hardly subtle in his fascination with Laios, who trusts him in turn more than nearly anybody else. He can see how close Mithrun and Kabru still are, even when there's little reason for the former captain to even stay in Melini. He can see where this is going. And he can see the disaster it's gonna end up in.

So he's just staring at them in horror, trying to figure out what in the world the dynamic here even is and glaring daggers at Kabru all the while for seemingly being the linchpin of this entire bullshit situation. King, his adviser and a fucking foreign noble?? Who thought THAT was a good idea! Is nobody else seeing this?? (no lol) Why is nobody objecting to this politically unsound love triangle that could literally ruin the kingdom they've only just established??

The anger! The distress! The despair when he first sees Laios getting all giddy when Mithrun so much as talks to him. Because hell, now he can't even blame the entire situation on one pretty boy insisting on having fingers in every possible pie, on political and personal level both!

And then they just. Quietly get together. All three of them. And Chil's just watching from the sidelines in complete bafflement because he's invented infinite worst case scenarios for how this will implode in all of their faces and destroy their friend group and topple the entire country and--

Instead they do. This. He'd be relieved if he wasn't so goddamn mad that he's spent months worrying about this shit just for them to resolve it in the least dramatic way possible.

Fuck this, he's taking a holiday.

[i-like-forcefem]

Being a Forcefem hacker really got so easy since July

Back in my day we had to take over their YouTube account, make it push femboy videos, push TG comics on their twitters, make them win Guilty Gear give always, put Blahaj’s in their carts when shopping for furniture, make up tutorials, cosplay guides, so so much effort for just one cute girl

Now all I do is take over the pc, put on “I watched the TV glow” and it does the rest

[wigglebox]

First Day 🌙☀️