#its the retirement home state

[nickbutnodick]

maybe the reason florida is such an abomination is bc it literally never was supposed to exist. it didnt, really. and then some people wanted money so they MADE florida.

[sad--tree]

i have GOT 2 just suck it up and start forcing myself 2 leave the house and Do Things and Be Social like YES. OKAY. it takes at Minimum an hour to bus anywhere in the city and somehow usually even longer 2 bus back home BUT im still only being scheduled for a ghastly 16 hours of work a week so!!! wtf else am i doing with my time!! answer: NOTHING!!! and it's AWFUL!!!

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[nerdyenby]

Ninjago will live forever, I’ll make sure of it myself

Ninjago 2024 Update

Kevin Burke has recently confirmed the second season of Ninjago: Dragons Rising, will be the same length as the first season, but they're unclear on if there'll be a third season/how long it'll be. That's why we, as fans, are advised to continue watching and maybe spread the word or something so they can continue to tell the story they wish!!!

[dumbbitchgalore]

Bringing out the horny in Old man!Price at his retirement party 💦

This is the day that made him feel old as fuck. A retirement party at 45 although his bones preface by saying that they are in their 70s. It’s safe to say that being a SAS soldier has taken quite a toll on the poor man.

And the worse pain of all, being diagnosed with erectile dysfunction at 40. How could his body be so selfish and do something like that to him, especially since he’s got you to keep happy.

Once again, the universe was turning its back on him like a big ‘fuck you’ as John enters his midlife crisis. Now, you on the other hand did not give a flying fuck about his erectile dysfunction. In fact, it made you love him even more!

You adore his useless cock. Cock warming is amazing with his limp dick resting inside of you occasionally twitching every once in a while making you burst with satisfaction and not to mention blowjobs. It’s heavenly to have his useless cock stuffed in your mouth and you wouldn’t have it any either way.

Tonight, John had a scowl on his face as he sipped his beer. Coming up from behind, you hug him tightly earning a chuckle from John and a hand resting on top of yours.

"Come." You simply state, nuzzling into his back.

John cranes his head to the side as he watches you from his peripheral view. "Where?"

"Just come with me." You chide jokinging, pulling him by his hand and making him follow you.

Taking him to his office, you lock the door behind you. John cocks an eyebrow at your actions but you simply shrugs as a response.

Sauntering over to him, you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek tenderly. Remaining skeptical, John scoffs confused at to what you're doing.

You sense his hesitation and kiss his lips softly, "Let me treat my Captain to a job well done."

John sees the twinkle in your eyes, your desire to make him feel good on a day that he's dreaded for so long. However, he shakes his head, massaging your shoulders.

"How about I make my Birdie feel good, hm?" He says.

"Why?" You whisper.

Trailing his hand down the side of your arm, he brings you close as he pulls you flush to him by your wrists.

"Because..." He begins to speak.

"Because you've put up with my stubborness."

Kiss

"You've played nurse for all the times I came home injured or hungover."

Kiss

"You're more than I deserve,"

Kiss

"You're stuck with my idiotic arse."

Kiss

"And most of all, you haven't flown away yet."

Your whines and gasps are engulfed by his onslaught of open-mouth kisses. Tongues swirling around, fighting one another for power.

John pulls away looking into your eyes.

"Open your mouth, Petal." He commands huskily.

You nod, tilting your head up as you open your mouth. John slowly lets his spit dribble into your mouth. It tasted like John, tasted like perfection. Metallic and acidic.

Keeping eye contact, you swallow all of it before open your mouth showing proof of your obediance. John hums in atisfaction.

"Slag." He mutters, pushing you onto the couch before hiking your dress up and ripping your lacy panties off, earning an annoyed huff for the now ruined article of clothing.

John groans, kneeling down in between your legs as he shoves his nose into your soaping pussy, your juices slighting coating his nose. He inhales deeply taking in the sweet smell of your sex.

"What a pretty, wet cunt you've got here, Birdie." He coos, giving your clit a harsh flick as you yelp at the familiar sensation as John chuckles.

"Reactive too."

He flattens his tongue across your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue, poking and proding your hole as his thumb plays with your clit.

Your legs rest on top of his shoulders, giving him a better access to your cunt. Soon enough the room is filled with your moans and mewls as your mind becomes a haze from the pleasure your man is giving you.

John groans like a straved man against your folds as he satiates his thirst with your essence. Your thighs clamp around his head as you lock him into place with now mercy of withdrawing from his own ministrations.

Letting out a low chuckle, he looks up at you through his lashes. Cerulean eyes mirroring the same lust that coarsed through your veins.

"You better cum on face, Birdie or else I won't let you cum at all."

[fenrislorsrai]

Seven months of searching for her lost son brought Bettersten Wade to a dirt road leading into the woods, past an empty horse stable and a scrapyard. The last time she’d seen her middle child, Dexter Wade, 37, was on the night of March 5, as he left home with a friend. She reported him missing, and Jackson police told her they’d been unable to find him, she said.  It wasn’t until 172 excruciating days after his disappearance that Bettersten learned the truth: Dexter had been killed less than an hour after he’d left home, struck by a Jackson police car as he crossed a nearby interstate highway. Police had known Dexter’s name, and hers, but failed to contact her, instead letting his body go unclaimed for months in the county morgue. 

GEE I WONDER IF THESE ARE RELATED

The decision to call the police was difficult for Bettersten. She did not trust them. In 2019, her 62-year-old brother died after a Jackson officer slammed him to the ground. The officer was convicted of manslaughter but is appealing.  Her family filed a wrongful death lawsuit accusing Jackson officers of excessive force and attempting to cover up their actions, and accusing the city of failing to properly train and supervise the officers. The city has denied the claims and said it isn’t liable for what happened. The officers’ lawyer said they acted responsibly and lawfully. A federal judge dismissed some of Bettersten’s claims; others remain pending in state court.  Bettersten said her mother advised her not to call the police about Dexter.

The whole thing is worth reading, its not that long. But other key points: the coroner IDed Dexter within a few days and gave the info to the police to notify the family. After months of no info, officer in charge of missing persons retired. Within two weeks, the replacement officer notified her of the death and took her to fetch the body from a paupers field where coroner buried unclaimed bodies.

[wileys-russo]

pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

part of the colourblind universe pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

your eyes fluttered awake as you felt a body settle down on top of you, warm and soft with a mess of blonde hair obstructing your vision, the smell of roses invading your senses from her shampoo. 

with a small chuckle your hand snuck its way up her shirt to rub her back, the other entangling itself in her golden locks, nails scratching softly against her scalp as you felt her weight bare even more into you as she settled with a content sigh and a lazy kiss to your shoulder blade.

"good morning solsken." you mumbled with an amused smile, closing your eyes again and feeling her exhale tiredly into your neck with only a small grunt sounding in response to your greeting.

the defender had stumbled through your front door not long before midnight last night, having been away in the states for barcelonas pre season tour for the week and insisting you wait for her at home rather than meet her at the airport given their late flight time.

knowing she was jet lagged you did your best to stay up with her, but fingers carding fondly through your hair as she rambled on about everything she'd been up to (that you already knew given whenever she wasn't busy she was on the phone to you) it didn't take long before you were out like a light and fridolina was carrying you to bed.

"and here i was thinking you were the early riser in this relationship min kärlek." you teased, feeling her fingers pinch your hip in a silent warning before she slowly lifted her head a little more and you cracked one eye open.

"this marriage." your wife corrected and you melted at the tired rasp to her voice, the girl poking your nose with a sleepy smile and flopping right back down on top of you making you let out a laugh.

after what felt like years being engaged, you and your long time lover had finally said i do and tied the knot during the off season.

you'd gotten married in sweden at the same little vineyard that the two of you had met at, ironically also at a wedding, surrounded by your closest friends and families.

and not long after you disappeared off the grid to bali for a two week honeymoon where not a single second seemed to pass that you and your wife couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

"mm now i get to tell people my wife is finally home." you hummed happily, wincing a little as her cold hands sought out the warmth of your bare sides.

"if i had to wake up alone in bed one more day i might have retired." fridolina grumbled, words muffled against the skin of your neck where her head was tucked away.

"baby you were gone for a week! we used to do months apart when you were first playing in germany." you laughed again, moving your hand from where it sat tracing circles up and down her back for all of a millisecond before you heard her huff indignantly and wiggle herself in a silent demand you continue.

"i was scratching my nose fånig." you chuckled, short nails again soothing up and down her bare back as the taller girl settled.

"well vacker you weren't mrs rolfö then, and i still used to miss you like crazy. i miss you when you're just in another room." your wife confessed and you melted significantly at the tired but soft admission, the blonde always at her most mushy at the start of the day.

"fridolina!" you whined as suddenly a finger invaded your nostril, craning your head back and smacking her hand away, spoke too soon.

"you are such a child sometimes." you huffed, pulling both your hands away from her body as she was quick to catch them in her own, wrapping them back around her as your eyes rolled.

"did you just roll your eyes at me?" of course she'd know without even having to be looking at you, it was as if she had a sixth sense when it came to you, especially when you weren't doing what you knew was expected of you.

"...no." you lied, smiling innocently as her head popped up, golden blonde hair falling around you like a curtain and water colour eyes bore down into your own, puffy from the lack of sleep but still narrowing.

"jag älskar dig." you puckered your lips expectantly, flashing the cutest look you could muster this early in the morning, watching as the older girl faltered for just a moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in her head about where she wanted to go with this next.

"don't do it again." with that she dropped back down on top of you, and foolishly you thought you'd gotten away with it.

but then you felt her shift a little, left arm sneaking up her jersey which covered your top half, and you smiled turning your head to kiss her.

but your lips never touched, a gasp instead leaving your mouth as her thumb and forefinger tweaked your nipple, large hand palming your breast as your head pushed back into the pillows.

you blinked and suddenly she was on top of you properly this time, strong toned legs caging your smaller body beneath hers as they squeezed your hips, her hair pushed to one side of her head as pearly white teeth grinned down at you knowingly.

you tried to speak but the words died in your mouth as her assault on your chest continued, the jersey quickly pushed up to pool in the column of your throat as you saw a flash of blonde hair and felt her tongue flatten against your sternum.

any attempt to protest was shut down in an instant at the intoxicating feeling of her tongue circling your nipple, sucking your breast into her hot mouth had your hips bucking up and a moan ripped from you instead.

one hand fisted the soft silk sheets of your shared bed, knuckles white and a guttural groan dropping from your lips, while the other entangled itself into her mane of golden blonde hair, the short sharp tug against her roots only spurring your wife on further.

"oh!" you managed out as her mouth remained switching between both of your breasts, hot and sensual as she sucked marks into your chest reveling in the fact that she would be the only one to see when they no doubt turned varying shades of red and purple.

you felt three long fingers drag slowly down your stomach, touch feather light but leaving goosebumps scattered across your skin in their wake.

your eyes fluttered closed when she reached her final destination, teasingly pressing against your covered sex, tracing circles atop your panties and you heard her groan feeling just how wet you were already.

it was almost embarrassing how desperate you were for her to touch you now she’d started, an entire week without her having been a cruel torture after you’d both just spent the last two weeks fucking like rabbits.

"more!" you just managed to demand quietly, eyes flying wide open as everything came grinding to an abrupt halt, every trace of her touch stilling bar from the feel of her thighs pressing against yours where she sat on top of you.

your wife never found you looked more gorgeous than when pink with a needy flush, squirming and writhing and making the most pretty little noises beneath her, ready and willing to do whatever she wanted.

"oh baby." the blonde chuckled cruely, mouth inches from your own as she leaned down, lips ghosting yours as her bright green eyes drunk you in, sharp as a hawk.

fridolina refused to remove the now soaked material of your panties, only tugging on the waistband a little to hoick them up as the way they rubbed made you whine.

it allowed her to stroke up and down the swollen lips of your pussy, but stopped you from actually feeling the pleasure you craved from the slender fingers of your blonde lover.

"i know i indulged you on our honeymoon älskling, but i thought i'd trained you to be patient above all else." the older girl tutted with a mocking pout, hand still continuing its torturous ministrations against your clothed clit.

"oh i missed waking up like this more than you know sötsaker. hearing your pretty little moans and whines, watching your body squirm and jolt at every little touch." sure enough your hips bucked as she slipped one single finger under your panties, pushing it in and pulling it out as you whined at the loss.

"mm i had to touch myself instead, but always thinking about you. about taking you apart piece by piece like a little puzzle, watching you wait oh so patiently for me to put you back together, to give you what you need. because who knows best what you need älskling?" you knew the question was rhetorical but she expected an answer anyway, lips curled into a cruel smirk you'd grown to be infatuated with.

"you. only you, always you." "exactly."

"did you touch yourself while i was gone? våga inte ljuga för mig." she warned sharply, and as always the way she switched so quickly from soft to stern had your head melting, and putting you right where she wanted you.

"no! jag lovar." you barely managed out, her lips attaching to your neck with a satisfied hum, immediately seeking out every little spot she knew drove you wild.

"oh such a good girl. min duktiga flicka." your cheeks somehow grew even redder at the praise, breathless and scrambling to cling onto anything as your wife nipped at your neck, skilful fingers still rubbing circles over your panties which were practically ruined with your need for her.

foolishly again you thought with the promise that you’d not touched yourself in over a week that she might properly fuck you now, giving you the release that your body was begging her for without you even needing to open your mouth.

this thought was helped by the fact you knew your wife had been waiting to, proven by the countless detailed and downright pornagraphic texts she’d send near daily while away, about where her filthy mind often wandered to when not occupied with football.

but no, again, you were dumb to think you’d get off that easily with how much pleasure she gave herself in making you wait.

after all your wife adored nothing more than the control she had over you, and your orgasms. seeing just how far you’d let her bend you without breaking, touching you and toying with your body like she owned it, with false pouts and insincere coo’s as you’d call out her name dripping with need.

and evilly you knew she got the most pleasure from prolonging your eventual release.

making you hold eye contact with her as she ruined you, one little glance away all it would take for her hand to wrap around your throat and have you seeing stars.

despite knowing the answer until fridolina was ready would be no you’d beg for it anyway, your wife drunk with power that the only person who could give you what you needed was her, and she was in full control of when and how and if that happened.

you withheld the urge to scream as once more her touch disappeared all together, whatever discontent noise you did make swallowed by her lips engulfing yours.

her hands then fell to your cheeks, deepening the kiss as her tongue returned home shoving its way into your mouth, tracing ever little bump and dip as if mapping it out in her own head.

you exhaled shakily as her teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and pulling back causing it to stretch and snap back toward you with a pop.

“don’t forget to breathe sötnos.” her tone was teasing and light as her lust filled eyes raked over you, lips curling into a smile of utter satisfaction at the fresh love bites and bruises littering your tanned skin.

“good girl.” the blonde praised as you took a deep breath, near floating as her thumbs stroked the curve of your jaw and a few much sweeter kisses were dusted along your now swollen and plump lips.

“would you like a coffee?” and there it was, the dismissal of your current state as if you weren’t laying beneath her bright red, clammy and panting, body burning with a desire for a release that felt as if it may never come.

all you could manage was a nod but the slight raise of her eyebrows was all the reminder you needed that she expected verbal responses, forever warning you to use your words especially when she was midway through stealing the very breath from your lungs.

“yes please.” you sighed as she nodded with a much softer smile, thumb tugging down your bottom lip and eyes glimmering at the way they parted for her, expecting her fingers to slip past them and into your mouth.

but to your surprise her digits never came, instead you watched as she sucked the remenets of you off of her own fingers, even daring to give you a wink at the way your chest deflated beneath her.

“du ser så vacker ut på morgonen.” the blonde smiled, a more tender look across her face as she shuffled off of you, allowing you to pull yourself into a slightly more seated position with a wince, the uncomfortable but undeniable wetness coating your panties dripping down your inner thigh.

something which of course did not go unnoticed by your eagle eyed lover. “stackaren. let me take care of that for you.” she cooed, leaning down to kiss you and you felt her smile against her lips as her hand trailed downward again, hips bucking but this time her touch was gone as quick as it came.

your soaked thong hanging off of her pointer finger she was up and off of you in a blink, feet hitting the floorboards she was half naked and stretching out with a grunt as you heard her back click.

“you should take a shower älska, maybe a cold one?” she grinned wickedly and it took all of the self control she’d drilled into you over the years not to roll your eyes at the cockiness which radiated off of her at your dishevelled and dissatisfied state.

“i will go make breakfast and coffee, but neither will taste even half as sweet as you min ängel. now go clean yourself up, snälla.” and with your jaw hanging open and a tender kiss to your forehead she was gone, footsteps thumping down the landing.

you groaned and flopped back down in bed, tugging down her jersey which was still sitting against your neck with a huff.

when you were wed and both agreed until death do you part, you should have known that each day your wife would test just how much she could be the eventual death of you.

[eraenaa]

Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader Tag List

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain. 

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame. 

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin. 

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you. 

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet. 

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear. 

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you. 

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron? 

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say. 

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips. 

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls. 

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you. 

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control. 

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.  

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing. 

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching. 

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home. 

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you. 

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now. 

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle. 

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage. 

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him. 

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head. 

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron. 

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear. 

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered. 

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure. 

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,”  You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression. 

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet. 

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time. 

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father,  Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife. 

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips. 

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more. 

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. 

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers. 

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt. 

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking. 

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you. 

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans. 

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan. 

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for. 

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you. 

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling. 

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

SoCal Gas spent millions on astroturf ops to fight climate rules

Today (19 Aug), I'm appearing at the San Diego Union-Tribune Festival of Books. I'm on a 2:30PM panel called "Return From Retirement," followed by a signing:

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/festivalofbooks

It's a breathtaking fraud: SoCal Gas, the largest gas company in America, spent millions secretly paying people to oppose California environmental regulations, then illegally stuck its customers with the bill. We Californians were forced to pay to lobby against our own survival:

https://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert/article277266828.html

The criminal scheme is spelled out in eye-watering detail in a superb investigative report by Joe Rubin and Ari Plachta for the Sacramento Bee, which names the law firms and individual lawyers involved in the scam.

Here's the situation: SoCal Gas is California's private, regulated gas monopoly. They are allowed to lobby, but are legally required to charge their lobbying activities to their shareholders, and are prohibited from raising customer rates to pay for lobbying.

The company spent years secretly violating this rule, in the sleaziest way possible: working with corporate cartels like the California Restaurant Association and BizFed, the monopoly paid BigLaw white-shoe firms to procure people who posed as concerned citizens in order to oppose climate regulations that are essential to the state's very survival.

The bill topped $36 million – and it was illegally charged to its customers, the Californians whose immediate health and long-term survival these efforts opposed. SoCal Gas refuses to disclose the full extent of the spending, as do its lawyer-procurers, who cite legal confidentiality and a First Amendment right to secretly seek to influence policy in their refusal to disclose their profits from this illegal conduct.

The law firms involved are a who's-who of California's most prominent corporate fixers, including Reichman Jorgensen and Holland & Knight. The partners involved have a long rap sheet for anti-climate dirty tricking, most notably Jennifer Hernandez, notorious in climate justice history for an incident where activists claim she posed as one of them, infiltrating a campaign to force corporate despoilers to clean up their pollution in order to sabotage it, while secretly on a wealthy, prominent landowner's payroll.

Hernandez claims to care about the environment and says that her longstanding, corporate-funded, extensive campaigns and lawsuits against state environmental regulations are motivated by concern over their impact on working people. Her firm, Holland & Knight, denies serving SoCal Gas in opposing gas regulations, but it received $594k in ratepayer dollars, and submitted comments opposing the rules on its own behalf. Those comments were nearly identical to the comments submitted by SoCal Gas.

Hernandez also represents an obscure organization called The Two Hundred for Home Ownership in "a flurry of lawsuits" over California Air Resources Board rules on pollution, seeking to overturn the state's landmark climate change regulations.

Two Hundred for Home Ownership was founded by Robert Apodaca, who told the Bee that Hernandez's work for him is pro bono and not funded by SoCal Gas, but his entry into the fray occurred just as SoCalGas was founding an astroturf group called Californians for Fair and Balanced Energy (C4BES), which pretended to be an independent organization, disguising its relationship with SoCal Gas.

Apodaca is also founder of United Latinos Vote, an organization that had been largely dormant for seven years, not receiving any donations, until 2018, when the California Building Industry Association gave it $99k. The CBIA is a large-dollar recipient of donations from SoCal Gas, and its CEO insists that it was not acting on SoCal Gas's behalf when it made its unpredented donation to Apodaca.

The CBIA donation to United Latinos Vote was forerunner to a flood of corporate donations from the likes of Chevron, Marathon and Phillips 66. Shortly after receiving this cash, United Latinos Vote ran a full page ad in the LA Times, accusing the Sierra Club of pushing for anti-gas appliance rules that would harm working class Latino families.

This ad, in turn, featured prominently in advocacy by the SoCal Gas front group C4BES, funded with $29.1m in ratepayer money, which it then spent seeking to link clean appliance rules with anti-Latino racism. A quarter of California's carbon emissions come from home gas use.

SoCal Gas is regulated by the California Public Utility Commission (CPUC), which tolerated this mounting illegal conduct for many years, even as the company circulated internal memos as early as 2015 discussing its plans to oppose electrification in the state on the basis that it constituted "a significant risk to our business."

But last year, CPUC fined SoCal Gas $10m. Now, CPUC's Public Advocate office has filed a damning, extensive report on SoCal Gas's unlawful conduct, seeking $80m in rate cuts to compensate Californians for the funds misappropriated to protect the company's shareholder interests:

https://docs.cpuc.ca.gov/PublishedDocs/Efile/G000/M517/K407/517407314.PDF

Additionally, the Public Advocate is demanding $233m in fines for the company's refusal to allow investigators to audit its books and discover the full extent of the fraud.

SoCal Gas is the nation's largest utility, but (incredibly), it's not the dirtiest. That prize goes to Ohio's FirstEnergy, which handed $60m in ratepayer dollars to state politicians in illegal bribes in exchange for coal and nuclear subsidies and cancellation of state climate rules. That scandal led to GOP speaker of the Ohio House Larry Householder being sentenced to 20 years in prison:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohio_nuclear_bribery_scandal

There is something extraordinarily sleazy about using ratepayers' own money to lobby against their interests. SoCal Gas and its Big Law enablers have funneled millions in Californian's money into campaigns to poison us and boil us alive, and they did it while using workers and racialized people as human shields.

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/19/cooking-the-books-with-gas/#reichman-jorgensen

Image: Maryland GovPics (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/mdgovpics/6635539089/

Jackie (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/79874304@N00/197532792

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[decojellyfish]

Whimper

Hi everypony! This is the official part 2 of Bite!

You guys have no idea how much I appreciate all the love I've been getting for my past fics! Thank you all so much :)

------ Hybrid AU! TF141

Retired Fight Dog! Ghost, Soap, and Gaz x Retired Fight Dog! GN! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as ‘you’

SFW ~ Angst to fluff

Warnings: Very brief/occasional swearing, mentions of self-hatred and depression

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Come Wander with Me - Jeff Alexander" 0:09 ━●────────── 2:47 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

───♡───────────── Beginning It had been a week since you’d run away from the Price household. You couldn’t bring yourself to ever turn around, to ever look back at the house. You temporarily returned to your old lifestyle, hiding in the shadowy alleyways, dumpster diving for food, etc. But as the days passed, the guilt and shame would eat away at you. Your portions of garbage food would grow smaller and smaller before you gave up on eating altogether.

Any kind of food, no matter how clean or rotten it was, never felt like it was deserved. You would rot away in a pool of disgrace, staring up at the sky. Whether it was the middle of the day or two in the morning, you were lying in a dirty alley and gazing at the never-ending sky. You couldn’t even retreat to your happy place, it was corrupted now. Whenever you tried to run into escapism, you were abruptly snatched back into reality as images of your attack flashed across your mind.

You weren’t deserving of your happy place anyway. You were given a chance to live in a warm home, warm fresh food whenever you wanted it, clean clothes, and even a bath. And you threw it all away because you were too scared, you couldn’t escape the past. You would rather stay willfully trapped in the past than lean into the future’s welcoming arms. You had practically slapped the future in the face. Spit in its face, even.

You couldn’t go back there, not after what you did.

The boys had been looking for you, any chance they had. You knew this because you had close run-ins with them before you would run as far away as you could from your current alleyway. You were right back where you started—square one. You hated square one, but now, you felt like you deserved to be permanently chained to it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Price household was barely holding it together. That faithful afternoon, when Price and Gaz returned from their trip to the grocery store. Price had worried he left the door open, then seeing Soap’s patched-up state and Ghost residing on the couch, his head in his hands. Until that is when Ghost and Soap retold what happened. Albeit, Soap interrupting constantly with tears in his eyes.

He felt that it was all his fault. He was the one who reached out to you, violating your comfort zone without even realizing it. Soap just wanted to scoop you up in a tight bear hug, with your consent, and apologize to you over and over again. None of them knew where you were. Your scent was hard to track down, even for Soap or Ghost. Nevertheless, they would all look for you whenever they were out. Sometimes even Gaz would stay up late, ruining his sleep routine as he stared out the window, hoping he could see you in the distance.

He never did, but that didn’t make him give up. When he came back home from the grocery store that day, Gaz was so excited to share his favorite treats with you. The box of treats remained on the countertop, waiting to be opened. Gaz was waiting for you to come home to open it, like a welcome (back) home surprise.

Even Price would lay awake at night, wondering where you were. Which alley you were in, what you had found to eat. Sometimes he would wonder if you were even alive at this point. The first place he thought to check was the pound, maybe you’d turn yourself in. Next, he checked the shelter, maybe you were brought there. But alas, you were nowhere to be found.

Ghost was even starting to sneak out at night, patrolling the area for any sign of you. Soap would often tag along with him, he felt that since he was responsible for your departure, he was equally responsible for seeking you out and bringing you back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sun was beginning to rise. The sky, hour by hour, gradually brightened up from dark indigo to light blue. It had been nearly two weeks since your sudden escape. You were sure that you were far away from the Price household, maybe even a town away from them. Waiting for the day to pass again like it had the other ones, your monotonous schedule was interrupted by a little sound. A little ‘clink’.

Looking over, you saw an ivory plate with four treats on it. You looked up, finding the perpetrator who dared to give you food. It was a woman, she looked kind. But you felt that her kindness was deserved elsewhere, maybe for another hybrid that didn’t fuck up the chances the universe gave them.

“Go on, sweetie.” She smiled at you, “It’s okay to eat, you look hungry.” She was knelt by your seated form, showing no signs of leaving. After nearly thirty minutes of just staring at the woman, the plate of treats, and a spot on the sidewalk, you hesitantly approached the plate. Grabbing a treat, you looked up at her, almost as if wanting her approval. “There you go, eat up.” Her voice was like a campfire, warm and safe.

You had slowly eaten all the treats and now, were following the woman like a lost puppy. Well, you kind of were one. Only that you were willfully lost. Your sunken eyes followed her as she walked up the few steps of a hybrid shelter.

Staying at the bottom of the stairs, you looked up at her as you began to protest. “Oh, no, I- I don’t need a home…” “Well of course you do, lovie.” She smiled down at you, not understanding what was going on in your head. Of course, everyone needs a home, it’s just that you were a bad pup. Bad pups don’t deserve homes or food. You only ate the food she offered you because she wouldn’t leave you alone.

“C’mon, pup, it’d nothing to be scared of. Everyone is deserving of a warm place.” She smiled down at you, quickly trotting down the steps and grasping your hand. Despite your constant protests and objections, she pulled you into the building and you were suddenly hit with so many smells of different hybrids. It was overwhelming, you wanted to leave more than you already did. But you were now in the custody of the shelter, there was no getting away now.

At the shelter, you didn’t do much. You didn’t do anything. You never left your cage, you always had your back turned to everyone but the wall, even when sleeping. Even in captivity, you didn’t eat, didn’t play, and you never communicated. There was even a rumor around the shelter that you didn’t have a voice or face. That was only with the new members, though. It’d been another week since you were brought here, and you were growing more and more hopeless by the day.

Why? Why was the universe giving you more and more chances? You’d only end up throwing them away, why wasn’t the all-knowing universe catching on?

You didn’t get it. You didn’t get why they kept trying to feed you, replacing the uneaten food in your bowl with new food. Food that would also stay uneaten. You didn’t get why they made sure you drank at least a little water each day. You didn’t get why they cared. Why did they care about you so much?

Why did they care so much about someone who threw away every chance they got, because they couldn’t trust anything supposedly good in this world?

You had grown quiet. What was once a fearsome fighter dog, one that was well known for their vigor and bloodthirst, was now a meek little pup. Scared, not knowing what they did to deserve this life, this pain, this distrust of every single being around them. You would find yourself getting angry again, angry that you didn’t get a cozy life like the other pups, and when you were offered one, you ran away.

Bad pup. Bad pup. Bad pup. It repeated in your head like some twisted earworm that had engraved its home into your brain.

Unfortunately, your only outlet for this anger was your tears. But you didn’t want anyone to hear your suffering. You still wanted to be seen as a scary fighter. So you waited till everyone in the shelter was asleep, this meant everyone, so you would end up waiting till three or four in the morning to just silently cry your heart out.

You would grip at your hair and the clothes you still got from Price, and you would sometimes clutch your entire face as you desperately hid it to muffle your sobs and hiccups. You would cry for an hour or two, then you would be asleep by sunrise. It was your little routine by now. Hey, at least that meant you were getting used to this place.

Sometimes, there were nights when you would cry harder than other nights. Mostly ones where a hybrid was adopted, a constant reminder as to how unwanted you were, or the ones where you couldn’t stop the constant flashes of your past fights. All of them. Ones with actual fighter dogs, ones with domesticated dogs that were just trying to live their lives, and Soap. None of them deserved what you did, not even the fighters that wounded you that you ended up wounding back just as harshly if not, worse. They didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. Soap didn’t deserve to be the victim of your outburst. No one did.

You didn’t deserve this life, you didn’t deserve to be a bad pup. You didn’t want to be a bad pup anymore. You would desperately cry out to the universe, in your head, that you didn’t want to be a bad pup anymore. You wanted to be a good pup. You wanted to play in the park with other dogs, you wanted to have a bath every week, to go on walks, to eat your favorite treats, to wear your own clothes that didn’t have holes from rotting away. To have a kind owner.

You wanted Price. You wanted Gaz, and Soap, and Ghost. You wanted to take back that chance, you would plead every night to get it back.

But as much as you wanted to get that chance back, it didn’t come.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price never stopped his search. None of the boys did. But while the boys would sleep throughout the night, Price was now spending his time in bed constantly searching for any sign of you on his computer.

Finally, he came across a photo of you. He had to do a double-take when he saw the date of the photo. It was recent, and you were still wearing the t-shirt from your first day at the home. He had to make sure he didn’t wake up any of the boys with the slight cry of joy and relief he let out at the revelation that you were safe and in a shelter.

He made sure to save the address of where you were. It surprised him that you were so far from his home, but he was happy you looked like you were safe at the moment.

That morning, Price was up and early. Already dressed, he began to cook breakfast for his boys. They all had their morning routine of having breakfast and usually chatting with each other. Gaz and Soap, however, had grown quiet the past few weeks. Price and Ghost could tell they were heavily affected by your disappearance, Soap was more guilty than Gaz was saddened as well as missing you.

Price would interrupt the difficult silence that they’d all grown accustomed to with a clearing of his throat. “I’ll be out for a while today. I’ll be visiting an old friend.” He didn’t want to say who he was seeing specifically as that would make all the pups want to come with him. It would overwhelm you if all the dogs came in with him just to see you. He knew you would need a slow reintroduction to the idea of becoming domesticated.

A few murmurs of acknowledgment made their way around the table as the boys ate their breakfast. It was clear they were all trapped in their heads, stuck in their thoughts.

An hour later, Price got in his car and drove to the shelter where you currently resided.

He stepped into the building, already beginning his search for you again. He looked at each cage, wondering which one you were in. It wasn’t until he had finally caught a glimpse of a familiar t-shirt that he let out a sigh of relief. Kneeling by your cage, he carefully watched your back slowly rise and fall with each breath you took. He could vividly imagine the empty look on your face, how you were trapped in your head and stuck with your thoughts.

Price couldn’t blame you for wanting to be alone, he could sense the guilt dripping off of your curled-up form.

“Hey there, pup.” He spoke softly, you could hear a little smile in his voice too. You couldn’t help yourself, you looked over your shoulder at his gruff face. You did it so quickly that it made Price chuckle a bit, “Yes, it’s me. The old man.” He joked, running a hand over his facial hair. You stayed quiet, your head returning to its original position of staring at the back of your cage.

Letting out a little sigh, Price got slightly comfortable by your cage. “...the boys and I, we- we’ve missed you. We’ve been lookin’ all over town for you…” He continued to speak with a soft tone, his voice almost like a gentle, forgiving embrace. “I wanted to let you know that- we’re not mad at you. Nobody is, not even Soap. He misses you, I think, the most.” He laughed a little. “I know you’re scared, pup, I don’t blame you. You and the boys came from a very scary and cruel place. I’ve seen, multiple times, what that kind of life can do to a dog.”

Looking over at you, Price took in your tired appearance. “What you did… yes, it was bad. But you were scared. You did what you felt was necessary to protect you.” He paused. “Soap feels guilty himself, he didn’t mean to set you off. And he wants nothing more than to apologize for himself, and forgive you too.”

“He wants nothing more than to keep you safe. You know, he’s already been going on and on about being your guard dog when going on walks and at the park.” He laughed a little, looking over at you again.

That made you think to yourself. Soap wanted to protect you. Soap, the dog that you violently attacked in a fit of fight or flight senses that flooded your brain at that moment. It made you feel even more guilty, causing you to clutch at your shirt as a form of biting back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

“Now, you have every right to answer this question however you please, okay?” He looked at you, noticing how you looked over at him again, a subtle sense of curiosity in your dull eyes.

“Would you like a second chance to come back home?”

You were riddled with embarrassment as you followed Price out of the shelter, your tail could not stop wagging. And it was wagging hard. Your tough exterior was being betrayed by your brain, directly wired to your tail and making it wag like you had just one first place at a dog show.

It didn’t stop even when you were seated in Price’s car, audibly swishing against the material of the car seat. You were just so happy. You were happy Price had given you a second chance, the universe gave you a second chance to have a go at this whole domestication thing. After you had convinced yourself you weren’t deserving of one, the one person who you wanted a second chance from had come in and given it to you.

You weren’t going to mess it up this time, you weren’t going to lash out, you were going to see your old foes as new friends, and you were going to cherish this second chance for the rest of your life.

Price chuckled at your swishing tail, putting his phone down after sending a text. “I’m glad you’re happy, pup. You deserve to be.” He smiled at you, his thick, greyish mustache curling as if smiling too. He put on some jazzy radio station and began to drive back home. He even held your hand for comfort, after he offered his hand over the cupholders anyway. “It’s gonna be okay, dear. You’re gonna be okay.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The boys were all waiting by the front door, waiting for you to step through that door at any moment. After Gaz had received a text from Price, saying that he’d found you and was bringing you back, he had quickly informed the other two. Gaz had taken the liberty of setting up your little bed on the couch, lighting a little ocean-scented candle on the coffee table, and even setting a small plate of his favorite treats next to the said candle. The treats were just for you, like a little welcome-home gift.

His only orders for Ghost and Soap were to look sharp, making sure they weren’t still in their pajamas when you arrived, as well as having Soap fix up his mohawk.

Once all was said and done, the house was ready for your long-awaited return, the boys stood near the front door with bated breaths as they waited to hear Price’s car pulling into the driveway. It was about five minutes of waiting when they finally heard a vehicle arriving at the house.

Gaz’s tail was wagging, he was excited to greet you and hold you once again, happy that you were now safe and sound. Ghost was happy too, not as much as Gaz was, but still happy to have you back with the rest of the group. He was a little excited to see how you would adapt to a domesticated life, he could tell you were starting to like it before you left.

Soap was nervous, almost terrified. His tail was halfway tucked between his legs as he tried to maintain a good posture. He didn’t know what your reaction was going to be to see him again, he could already see you adamant on avoiding him like a virus. Maybe even barking at him to leave you alone, calling him a bad dog. In his eyes, he was a bad dog. He didn’t respect your boundaries when you were just settling in, he was the main reason you were gone in the first place. As much as he tried to keep himself straightened up, his eyes were full of shame, guilt, and worry.

The front door would open with a quiet click of the handle, and a tiny creak as it opened. Price was the first to step inside, letting you come in at your own pace. As you entered, you would look at the boys with surprised eyes. You hadn't expected them to be waiting for you, you thought they would be doing things around the house.

Gaz was smiling from ear to ear, opening up his arms as he silently asked for a hug. Taking a bit to get used to being in the house again, you eventually walked closer to him, accepting his embrace. “Welcome back, friend…” He hummed, resting his head on your shoulder as he closed his eyes. You slowly returned the hug, wrapping your arms around his broad frame with a gentle squeeze.

After nearly a minute, the two of you parted from one another. Ghost would gently pat and rub at your shoulder, a silent way of welcoming you back. “Good to see you back. We missed you.” It was the first time you’d seen Ghost smile at you. It felt… strange. But in a warm, welcoming way. Those three words nearly tore you up, ‘we missed you’. After weeks of imagining the group saying ‘good riddance’, ‘finally, they’re gone’, and ‘I never thought they’d leave’ constantly in your tortured mind, ‘we missed you’ blew all those thoughts away. It made you tear up, but you managed to blink them back and gulp down that burning lump in your throat.

You turned your gaze to Soap. The minute you locked eyes with each other, it was almost as if all your guilt and shame were shared with him, and his was shared with you. The day you saw Soap cry seemed to be an impossible thought. But it was happening right in front of you. Although he wasn’t a sobbing mess, you could tell he was holding back. And you were sniffling just as much.

With a deep shaky breath, he mustered up the courage to finally tell you what he’d been choking back ever since you’d run away.

“I’m sorry, pup. I’m sorry for not respectin’ your boundaries. I should’ve known you needed a bit o’ space, especially around Ghost and I. I- I just-” He sniffled, regaining himself when he felt his voice cracking. “I just wanted you t’ know that you’re safe here. No more fights, no more fear, no more worryin’ about when your next meal is gonna be. I just wanted you t’ feel safe, I… I want you t’ know that you’re safe, pup. We all are.” He sighed.

When Soap finally looked back up at you, staring at the ground in shame, he saw you choking back tears and sobs that were tearing at your throat. His eyes widened, “Are you okay, pup…? ‘M sorry if I said anythin’ that made you feel- bad.”

You shook your head in response, “No, no… I’m sorry too.” You wiped at your eyes as you sniffled. “I shouldn’t’ve freaked out on you like that. I had zero right to attack you, to hurt you the way I did that night. Especially after all you guys have done for me. I just- felt so guilty, I couldn’t come back. I thought all of you were gonna be so mad at me, you were just gonna kick me right out onto the streets again.” Your voice began to shake and crack, and your concrete walls began to crumble down. “I didn’t wanna face that, so I figured I could just do it all for you guys.” You hid your face away into your hands.

“I don’t feel deserving of the food, of these clothes, of anything you offer me.” You sobbed. “Not after what I’ve done, what I did.”

Soap watched the way your scarred ears folded back against your head, your tail nearly tucking itself between your legs, the way your shoulders shook with every uneven breath you took in or let out. He lightly brushed his calloused hand against one of your arms, making you look up at him with your red, puffy eyes.

“...do you need a hug?”

Your throat burned more than it ever did, causing you to whimper and nod as you began to audibly sob and cry, not being able to hold back anymore. Soap opened his arms and held you. He held you in such a gentle, forgiving way, that it was almost as if you were made of thin porcelain. Clinging onto him, you sobbed into his shirt. Your muffled cries and violent hiccups were soothed by one of his hands slowly caressing circles into your back.

“You do deserve all these nice things, pup. With all th’ shit you’ve put up with?” He chuckled slightly. “You deserve it all…” He smiled down at you, softly nuzzling into your hair.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Putting on a new set of clothes that Price had gotten you from the store, you stepped out of the bathroom after having your first bath back. They were comfy, nice, soft, and baggy too like wearable blankets. You had snuggled into your makeshift bed that Gaz had set up, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

Gaz happily watched as you tried the treats he’d set out for you, his tail wagging when you gave him a nod of approval. “Don’t spoil dinner just yet, pup. Food’s here!” Price called out from the front door. Price decided it was an order-in kind of night, so the group settled on take-out Chinese food.

Soap and Ghost made sure to handle the food order, their appetites combined making them wannabe food critics. Your mouth watered when the smell of it hit your sensitive nose, as well as the other dogs. Soap had also picked out a movie for the group to watch on this special night, he loved movies.

The group was sitting around the coffee table, their plates and mouths full of delicious food. Yours too. You were all sitting silently, captivated by the adventure unfolding before your eyes on the TV screen. For a brief moment, you were brought back to reality when you went to stab some more food with your fork.

You took the moment to look around. You were surrounded by what would be your new family, all in warm clothes, with nice hot food in your stomachs, and a nice warm home with decent air conditioning.

You were clean, you weren’t hungry, and your wounds from the streets had been taken care of. The you from a few months ago wouldn’t believe it, even you couldn’t believe it a little bit. That you were safe. You were looked after. You were loved.

And you deserved it all. ───♡───────────── End

Again, thank you so much for the love and support! If you have any requests or asks, feel free to submit them!

------ Taglist: @venavanup @draculauraspage @tf141gloryhole @obnoxiousbag @chanel-princess-world @ssc7514

If you would like to be added to the taglist so you can read my latest fics, let me know! Thank you :)

[lethalchiralium]

Seasons Change ⋆⭒ Part One

Retired!Cowboy!John Price x F!Reader, “arranged” marriage AU - Series Masterlist

summary: You’ve responded to the ad, traveling for days to a secluded farm in Montana to marry a man who would free you from the loneliness that infested your life back home - at the cost of your freedom. Or so you think.

Are you truly sure about this?

Your coach wasn’t extravagant by any means, wood splintered off of its wall and the cushions almost as old as you. You were sure that if you placed your Mama’s suitcase onto the floor, it would fall through. Your nicest shoes were on your feet, tied tightly and uncomfortable as they ghosted the top of the rotting wood floorboards.

Your hands were settled in a pair of your finest gloves, which shielded away the nicks you got from farming at your parent’s small ranch; lima beans, beets, sugar peas, radishes and tomatoes. The ground was tough in Illinois, trying to learn how to farm behind your mother’s back was essential - for you to be able to have freedom when you leave for the West, you had to have a source of income. Unless, God gives you a little ad from Montana on a Sunday afternoon.

Your nails hurt every time you scraped off the top soil from your radishes, the hot sun boiled your back through your stifling dress. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand before you pulled out the last one, a sore hand wiped away dirt to show a deep violet color. There was a smirk on your face, the vegetable settled in your small basket. Your Pa was to be back by noon, taking his horse to town for some supplies and a new sewing kit for Mama. Her time was spent inside, usually under the watchful eye of a needle and feeder as her brand new sewing machine droned on. Pa spent the better part of the money from last year’s harvest for that, she took it with a soft smile.

Mama’s clothes were good, she can sew four shirts by noon and sell them by two o’clock, her blankets still have a waitlist from last winter. You were lucky to have her sew you a new dress with how busy she’s gotten - it’s good for you, it means you can learn how to tend a farm from Pa. Independent living always intrigued you, wanting to live off the land in a quiet house with a shepherd dog. People weren’t interesting enough for you - you got that from Mama - but romance was. Wanting to be loved without the hassle of courting was a dream of yours, but it wasn’t feasible. No good man would want a woman with cuts on her hands, your Mama always said, a lady doing a man’s work insults God. That and you didn’t go to town much, never going without your Pa for fear of being harassed by men like you had been before. You were always escorted through town by your Pa, he always had a smile and a swift draw with his revolver.

You twisted a tomato from the vine, a decent size yet still not big enough - it seemed the soil was beginning to lose its strength of growing your crops bigger than the palm of your hand. Every year they kept growing smaller, every year it seemed that Mama’s sewing hobby was looking more profitable than the cornfields Pa tended to alone. Even your contribution of an array of vegetables wouldn’t bring four dollars to the table; when it used to bring seven.

There were footsteps along the side of the house, heavy and with a gentle huff as he walked on the solid Earth. It wasn’t hard to recognize your Pa by sound, your hands kept twisting off undersized tomatoes as he approached from the side.

“I’ve got something for you, Sugar Pea.”

You shook your head. “If it’s one of those Seed boys’ letters, I don’t want it.”

“It’s somethin’ you oughta consider.”

The trail began to grow bumpy, your hands held onto your small suitcase as you gazed out the window. The fields expanded as far as your eye could see, mountains clustered in the distance made you excited. You had never seen mountains before - Illinois was flatter than most states. It had taken you a day by coach then three days by train from busy Chicago to reach the calm Montana landscape, excitement bubbled in your skin. This is where you would be living the rest of your life, you hoped. You prayed this ad your father had given you wasn’t a trick for the man you had been corresponding with for the past two months.

The coach was stuffy, you already tried to open the windows in the doors but they were sealed shut, your hand waved your fan to try and keep cool in the brand new dress you sewed just for this occasion.

“No daughter of mine is leaving to go to Montana by herself!”

“Ellen, she wants to go! I won’t stop her.”

“And how did she get this ad? She certainly doesn’t have the penny to pay the damn clerk for the newspaper.”

“If she wants to go to Montana to marry a farmhand, let her. None of these boys here are worth the scum on my shoe.”

You laid in your bed, you watched as your curtain billowed from the night time breeze - moonlight dancing along with the thin fabric as the only sound you heard was your parents arguing.

“What if we need her? What if the soil runs dry?”

“I’ll learn to sew.”

“It’s a woman’s job.”

“It’s also her job to be married by now. She’s 20 for God’s sake, Ellen, she needs to have her own freedom.”

“And it’s a world’s away from us?”

Your fingers tapped your nightgown, tears running down the side of your face. You hated that you would be so far from them, but this was your chance. Romance without courting, hopefully. You were naive enough to not understand that romance is nothing without courting.

“She’s not a child anymore. She just wants to be wed.”

“And not have her husband love her?! Courting is how she should be doing it, that Joseph is a fine boy-“

“Not again with that preacher’s son-“

“-that would treat her right!”

“She doesn’t want to be here! She just wants to be wed and to be left alone, this man promised us a cash amount if she replies. All she would need to do is wed him, give him a child-“

“Gerald-“

“-then shoot him if she likes, just like I taught ‘er.”

Pa’s silver revolver was smothered by an old scarf in the deepest part of your suitcase, just in case this man in the ad turned out to have lied about his identity. A 35 year old man in need of a wife to start a family with. Payment to family if wed. You had written to him four times during the winter, spring had come in full bloom to welcome you to your new home. He had promised a warm house and a dog in his lengthy letters, detailing where he lived and where his family came from. Said he was a farmhand, tending to horses and a farm he partially owned. You didn’t have much to say back, only that you lived on flat farm land your whole life, you know how to garden, cook, and sew. And to your surprise, he found that knowing how to garden was great. You always had the idea that men hated women doing any of the dirty work, but that always came from Mama’s mouth. He wrote in detail that he found your hobbies interesting and would be more than happy to let them continue, if you agreed to marry him.

“You’re set on meeting this man. Are ya sure you want to go?”

“I am.”

“Get up. Pack quickly before your Mama hears ya.”

“Pa-“

“Hurry. The train leaves soon and the carriage can only go so fast.”

And here you were, in a coach this mysterious John Price had rented to bring you from the center of Missoula to his farm an hour away. You had enough money to get you to him, but he insisted on paying the train ticket and for you to be promptly delivered to him. Perhaps you should have considered if he was truly lying and was a one-eyed bald man named Bob. That or it was that crazy preacher’s son trying to get you to marry him again. You silently prayed that this seemingly sweet man you had been writing to all winter was actually kind and respectful.

The coach stopped abruptly, it jerked you forwards and forced you to press your shoes into the withered floorboards - yet nothing happened; you were surprised. Your gaze fell to the window, gazing out to see beautiful fields and dozens of trees. Even in the early spring with the remaining spray of snow on the ground, it was gorgeous. You could hear talking, the horse neighed at the front and all you could do was gaze out the window to the massive farm.

There was talking, a deep voice who initiated the conversation with the coach driver - your heart rose into your throat. Was this where you were going to live the rest of your life? Sprawling countryside with whinnying horses, barking dogs, lush trees and dark mountains as far as the eye could see? If it was, you were content - it was better than the flat farmland you lived on your entire life. You spotted a dark brown horse, coming into your view - a nice saddle sat on its back, deep brown hair combed and black spots dotted its belly. You would have spent the next hour admiring the gorgeous horse if it wasn’t for the coach door opening. Your eyes settled on the man who held open the door, covered by a long brown coat and brown shirt. He then held his hand out, you handed him your suitcase.

The man held out his free hand to you with a smile, eyes blue like a stormy sky. It shocked you just how gentle his gaze was, every man who ever looked at you always seemed like they would rip you apart at the seams.

Not this one.

He set your suitcase down, still holding your hand in his calloused one.

Oh. He is pretty.

Dark brown beard with mutton chops somewhat kept neat, teeth a light yellow - better than most men you’ve seen.

“What if he’s mean, Papa?”

“Then you leave.”

“If I can’t?”

“Shoot him in the head. You know how.”

His hold was gentle, better than any man who had grabbed at you when you were a teenager. Disgusting men laying hands on a young girl in the streets, but scrambling back like cats when Pa snapped at them.

“You’re prettier than what I imagined.”

Your jaw almost went slack with shock - he was British? He never disclaimed that to you in his letters, but his subtle drawl of his accent made your stomach quiver. Your lips pulled a smile.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“She speaks.” He chuckled a little. “Thank you, Miss.”

The coachman closed the door behind you, John then began to lead you towards the horse you were admiring earlier - now noticing the cart attached to it. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something to pull heavy items around. Your trunk already sat on it, he led you towards the seats.

You gazed at his face, the jawline that faded into his neat beard - the way his brown hair seemed to glitter in the sunshine. He was perfect - like the daydreams you had for years.

“It’s a small ride to the house,” John turned to you, holding up your hand to help you into the seat. You stepped up onto the cart, settling down and letting go of his gentle hand so he could set your suitcase beside your trunk. You looked down at your powder blue dress, one you spent all winter making by hand - Mama wasn’t fond of you using her machine. You were proud of this dress, even if it was meant to wear for one day, you’d always be so proud of how nicely it came together, how your first meeting with the man you were to spend the rest of your life with was perfect. Being optimistic is a good trait, Papa always said.

You spent your time watching the landscape as if it moved with you, the short journey felt centuries long as your heart beat faster than a race horse. Life here would certainly be harder than home, seeing that neither of your parents allowed you to help them most days - you were left on your own. Always alone, always doing what was needed without overstepping. This was a whole new challenge; learning where to push and where to pull boundaries with one John Price.

“Have you eaten?”

You glanced to John, noting his one hand on the reigns and the other resting on his leg. Your eyes flickered up to his face, his eyes kept on the trail in front of the horse.

“I have not.”

“I will make you dinner when we arrive. Won’t be long.”

You nodded to yourself, your own hands settling in your lap, squeezing tightly together. You gazed down at your hands, the blue of your dress meant to calm you. What you missed was a soft smile from your betrothed, his gaze memorizing your face for a few seconds before looking ahead.

This is a good choice. New scenery. New people. Far, far away from that damned pastor’s son and Mama’s snide remarks.

I have faith in John. But I hold no trust yet.

Use the gun if you’re ever scared.

Dinner was quiet. He was a good cook, much better than what you were used to and you were secretly delighted. Just a simple pork and potato dinner was better than the porridge your mother barely made edible. You stood like an awkward stranger in the small living room of the one bedroom home, unsure of what to do as John had not asked anything of you yet after dinner. In fact, he was silent the moment you stepped foot into his home.

Were you doing this wrong? What had you done to make him suddenly grow quiet?

There was a dusty couch, a dirt covered rug and a barely used fireplace in the room, your hands clasped together as a way to ease your nerves. He hasn’t opened the door to the bedroom yet, that was the most nerve wracking part. You haven’t shared a bed with a man, not since you were a toddler in your Mama’s bed. It was a terrifying prospect - especially to a quiet and reserved lady, having been chased by many men back home.

At least you won’t have to worry about those leeches anymore. You have a… husband now. You will be a wife. He can protect you. Right?

“I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You jumped a little, turning to look at John as he stood a few feet away - hands settled in his pockets. The awkwardness clung to your clothes, worry brewing deep in your belly. Does he not like you now?

John settled back on his heels, to your eye he seemed calm - what you couldn’t see was the tensing of his muscles, trying to not be as nervous as you were. The way he forced his jaw open to speak wouldn’t be noticed by you either. “I wanted to uh… thank you. For agreeing.”

You curtly nodded, you fought the urge to pick at your nail beds - a nervous habit. Silence befell the room again, your gaze didn’t disconnect from John for more than a few moments, where he held his hand towards the closed door - what you assumed was the bedroom. Your stomach dropped unexpectedly, your blood grew cold and you could only watch him with a nervous glare. He gazed back at you for just a moment before he spoke to himself, seeming to chastise his previous gesture, before he opened the door. He nodded towards it again.

“I’ll bring your chest in if you want to have a look around.”

Your legs felt like they could give way at any moment, but you still walked silently towards the room - John moved out of your way, making sure there was no chance to accidentally touch you. Acting as if you were made of thin porcelain, one wrong move and you would shatter on the floor. He turned away as soon as you passed, you didn’t miss the near-silent wince he made as soon as he started walking. You looked to him, a fleeting moment, just to memorize his figure before ducking into the quaint bedroom.

A large bed was pushed into the corner, only able to crawl onto the bed on one side. A fireplace across from there, connected to the one in the living room. The floor was bare hardwood, your shoes most likely shielded you from miniature splinters. There was a mirror in the corner, reflecting the entire room from where you stood. Only a few pictures adorned cleaned spaces, photographs of places that you’ve never seen before. A bay, with ships sailing in and out. One with snow covered trees. Another with a decrepit looking house.

You were quick to change. Your eyes watched John through the mirror, his back completely to you. You threw off your nice dress as soon as you untied it - not without a little struggle - before you pulled on a long nightgown, sleeves down to your wrists and hem grazing the top of your feet. You pulled the pins from your hair,

You pulled your quilt from your trunk, your hands gripped it tightly as you turned to face your… fiancé. His back was to you, showing many light pink scars. Some were the size of your pinky, others the size of your palm. If you were brave, you would walk up to him and trace the edges of them - but you weren’t. You waited for John to finish the bed, nerves swirled in your belly. You hadn’t shared a bed with someone since your Mama stopped letting you in hers when you were six. You’re a lady, she said, ladies don’t sleep in beds with men if they’re not wed.

“We’re not married yet.” Your voice was soft, John’s hands halted as they set a pillow on the far side of the bed.

“We are not.”

“We can’t sleep in the same bed.”

The man chuckled a little before he took the pillow closest to him, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed. “I forgot you wrote about that.”

Your grip tightened on the quilt. “About what?”

He yanked off the blanket from the bed, leaving the brown sheets before he dropped the blanket onto the floor next to the pillow. He turned around, it was hard not to try and gaze at his bare chest but you still kept his gaze. “Not sleeping beside each other until we were married. I meant to make my sleeping arrangements earlier but a man’s work is never done.” He shrugged, his smile softened as he nodded towards the bed. “Go on.”

You stood there for a moment, contemplating if you should sleep in his bed when he was to work the farm in the morning, but he held out his hand, the smile never fading.

“You’ll sleep alone just for the week, love.” He nodded again towards the bed. “I promise I’ll be fine on the floor.”

You silently made your way to the bed, hoisting yourself onto it before you spread your quilt over your body and the bed. It was cold, comfortable but not inviting. You supposed it wouldn’t be - you had been in this house for less than a day and the only thing comforting you was your belongings from home.

Home, you chuckled in your head. I suppose home is here now.

John fluffed his pillow on the floor, you didn’t hear an ounce of complaint as he pulled the worn blanket over himself. Your fingers traced the stitching of Mama’s sewing machine, your quilt sheltered you from the scratchy sheets on John’s bed. You could hear your mother droning on about marrying a farmhand, that you needed to go for someone with more money like a politician or a Christian - you didn’t like any man she chose, you shook your thoughts of that away. The first man you had chosen for yourself was far better than any lowlife scoundrel your Mama could find, and she would find ones that couldn’t have kindness anywhere near their greedy hides.

You slightly jumped when John spoke your name.

“Yes, John?”

He cleared his throat. “We’ll marry by the end of the week. I’ll sleep on the floor ‘til you decide you want me up there.”

“Okay.”

The stitching reminded you of home, of your cozy room with as many blankets as your Mama could make. It reminded you of quiet nights sitting with Pa on the porch, letting your mother stew inside after she made a comment that made Pa defend you. It reminded you of being little and standing outside Mama’s sewing room, hands holding your stuffed toy while you watched her sew by hand - one footstep into her room was ten minutes worth of scolding.

As you closed your eyes, you pressed your hands into your sternum. John was to be your husband, which meant children sooner or later. You promised yourself you would never scold your children for wanting to love you.

You hoped John would hold the same value.

[critrolestats]

New Blood, Old Regards

Thanks to @eyeofthenewt1 for this art piece!

Greetings! Although the Stats Team is still in a state of retirement, we’ve periodically updated several of our Campaign 3 Running Stats categories and galleries thanks to the efforts of a new team of data collectors. This team, consisting of Archivists Astral, Ethereal, Fey, and Shadow, have been preparing since the beginning of the year to launch their own site, and that day has come! With that, we’re pleased to present:

The Omen Archive

Although they have been providing CritRoleStats updates for our Campaign 3 records, their site will be its own thing with its own tools, toys, and focuses, such as graphics derived from their own databases of data. Please visit them at their website, reach out to them, and check them out on their various social media pages:

Website: https://www.omenarchive.com/

Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/omenarchive

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/omenarchive.bsky.social

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/omen_archive/

Tumblr: https://omenarchive.tumblr.com/ ( @omenarchive )

CritRoleStats will continue to update our databases and running stats pages with the data we receive from the Omen Archive until the end of the campaign, so that anyone from academics to casual fans have access to a complete catalogue of three campaigns worth of data. After that, our site will be completely (accessibly) archived, and our legacy will be carried on entirely by projects like the Omen Archive.

Thanks Are In Order

Outside of our final livecast, we realize we went out without the proper thanks to the community members who helped us grow. We’d like to take this opportunity to give credit where we feel it’s due.

We’d like to thank the team at Critical Role for their support over the years, with special thanks to Dani Carr for both her wonderful spirit, tenacious work ethic, and the marvelous send-off she gave us.

We’d like to thank the creators in the community. Thank you to the artist community for letting us feature your wonderful talent to give vibrancy to the numbers and words we’ve filled. Thank you to the information gathering community, from the wiki workers to the meta analysts, for giving your time to help make Critical Role more accessible. Thank you to the academics for finding value we didn’t know we had in our work. Thank you to everyone who creates in this community, whether your medium is music, words, stats, or art; whether you share for a large audience or for the joy of your private home or table; whether you encourage others with high presence, or quietly inspire and support from the shadows. Your creation makes the world a more interesting place.

We’d like to thank both our patrons and our Ko-Fi supporters for allowing us to carry on for as long as we have, and to make sure our work can continue to reach those who want to be informed and inspired. Thank you to our regular visitors, as well; traffic is supportive in several ways!

Thank you to those who have been with us, whether it’s the very beginning, sometime in the middle, or even if you’re tuning in just now. Your patronage and your expression of value in our work has been a blessing. (Thanks for the 1d4.) We’d also like to thank everyone who has continued to visit the site in spite of the lack of regular content creation on our part, and are grateful that so many of you are still finding use in the previous campaigns’ worth of data, as well as the current one.

We love you all very much. Now, back to retirement!

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Black couple rented to a Chinese American family when nobody would. Now, they're donating $5M to Black community. 

In 1939, the Dongs, a Chinese American family in Coronado, California, found themselves unable to rent a house amid racially restrictive housing laws that favored white buyers and renters.

Emma and Gus Thompson, a Black entrepreneurial couple in town, allowed the family to rent and eventually buy their Coronado property when nobody else would. Now, to thank the Thompsons for helping them get a toehold in American society, the Dongs are donating $5 million to Black college students using proceeds from the sale of the house. 

“It may enable some kids to go and flourish in college that might not have been able to otherwise,” Janice Dong, 86, said about the plan to sell the family home they later purchased, as well as an adjacent property.

The Dong family will also work to have San Diego State University’s Black Resource Center named after Emma and Gus, who was born into slavery in Kentucky. 

Lloyd Dong Jr., 81, said the Thompsons gave their family a start with the land, and it is time for them to do the same for others.

“Without them, we would not have the education and everything else,” Lloyd Dong Jr. said.

Amid the backdrop of a national conversation about reparations, this isn’t a story about atonement and repair, said Kevin Ashley, a Coronado historian. The Thompsons’ gesture was a transaction with no strings attached; the Dongs didn’t have anything to pay back.

Instead, Ashley said, the story is about honoring and recognizing the enduring impact of one family’s will to help another get ahead. As the country continues to debate the merits and logistics of reparations for its history of chattel slavery, the Dong family’s decision to give back to the Black community could serve as an example, he said.

Ron Dong and his wife, Janice Dong, are both retired teachers who believe that education can change lives.

“It’s just exactly what’s appropriate,” Ron Dong, 86, said about their donation. 

(more of this fascinating story at the link)

[gatitties]

War & crack II

—Task Force 141 x young!reader

—Summary: more headcanons with your team as you being chaotic

—Warnings: none

Part One / Halloween special

yeah, I didn't finish my brainstorm and I bring more things from this sudden idea 🫣

─ Listen, you have a lot of problems.

─ And we are not talking about your jokes about death biting your ass anymore.

─ Price's going to go bald before he retires, how the hell are you still alive today? It is a mystery to them.

─ Everyone noticed during a mission where they had to stay in a safe house for a few weeks that you had the same concentration as a fly, empty thoughts behind your eyes lost in a distant point of reality.

─ You looked like another person when you were a simple civilian, Gaz had to pull you so you wouldn't get run over a couple of times for not looking at the traffic lights.

─ Price needs to put on videos of crunchy slime or Subway Surfers so you could hear what he was saying, (Soap won't admit that it also helps him focus).

─ They discovered that you can sleep in any position, seriously, whether it's standing up, in the bathtub, your body bent in an unusual way, now they understand why you complain so much about back pain.

─ Everyone looks in silence when they give you little impulses to do stupid things, like, last time you were walking to see the area and you found a woman walking her dog, you asked her if you could pet it and when she said yes you pet the woman instead of the dog, Ghost dragged you away murmuring an apology.

─ The following days they decided that you would stay at home, they simply fed your stupidity, every time they arrived you received them with the phrase 'where have you been, loca?' while playing a wolf howl in the background.

─ Luckily it was time to return to the base, during the trip you were listening to music, despite having your headphones you had the volume so high that everyone could hear it, Soap stuck to you because he liked what you were listening, the others decided to drown out the noise with some light talk.

─ Once you returned to the base you relaxed, returning to your working state, you focused again, which relieved all.

─ One day they decided that you needed a nickname since everyone had it except you, so they began to investigate your record as a cadet and even your years in the military school.

─ You kicked and fought because you were something else a while ago, but it was inevitable to find an old report where it said that you were violent with some classmates.

─ And in your anger for probably some nonsense, you ended up biting the ankles of a guy, or a group of guys, or even one of your lieutenants...

─ Soap and Gaz cried with laughter because there was a video of what was evidenced and you looked like a rabid chihuahua attacking its worst enemy.

─ Nibbles, at least it was temporary because you didn't entirely agree with the nickname.

— Since you were now known like that, you went from friendly punches to friendly bites.

─ Once you got kidnapped and you returned to the base the next day because your captors couldn't stand having you sing old Justin Bieber songs or listening to you talk about all your obsessions, they tried to cover your mouth but you just kept making too much noise, the information was not worth it.

─ You arrived in the middle of the meeting they had to prepare the rescue, having the courage to enter the room asking who they were trying to rescuing.

─ Price casually replied that they were looking for you until he did a double take, realizing you were there.

─ You were buried in a mass of muscles after the realization.

─ When you're depressed at random times (because you don't understand how your brain works and you feel bad out of nowhere), everyone will quickly notice, like even though you're not the most talkative person all the time, you usually drop some stupid comment, but on your bad days you are simply a piece of flesh and bones that walks without knowing where it's going.

─ The first time they saw you like this they tried to do something to cheer you up, Price gave you a few days off hoping your mood wasn't due to work overload, he even wrote some of your reports.

─ Soap bought stickers and decorations to your liking to decorate your prosthesis, he also told you that he could draw you a design to have your personalized arm.

─ Gaz tried to talk to you but you just didn't want to open your mouth, he chose to just keep you silent company, maybe you hug him, you need a little physical support.

─ Ghost will leave objects scattered around knowing that you would find them, knowing that they were things that you liked or had been looking for (because the poor guy always has to pick up what you forget around the common room).

— Nothing seemed to work until a stray kitten snuck in and lit up your face, so the easy answer was any baby animal would brighten your day, it was free therapy.

— You once dyed the boys' clothes pink by accident, but at least you told them that now they could go see Barbie with you.

— You promised you'd take them to see Oppenheimer, and that's why they agreed.

— You created a group chat just to send shitpost and teach them the meme path.

— Price just leaves it on seen, Ghost has the group muted, Gaz answers from time to time and Soap is the most active, he learns fast about today's shitpost.

— You really resist the urge to trim Price's beard to make it heart-shaped.

— You use the radio to sing parts of songs when you take too long to jump into action, Price scolds you for it.

— You complain that he seems constantly in a bad mood and you open a profile for him on every dating app you know, even on Grindr.

— You found Ghost's profile browsing Tinder and Soap's profile on Grindr... you decided to use it as a weapon in case you needed any favors.

— Gaz caught you red-handed, but you made a deal and he wouldn't say anything if he can profit from the manipulation.

— You hide it like you're hiding war crimes.

— Why does Price have so many likes from single moms?

[simply-ivanka]

Very Serious Charges:

Veterans have accused Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz of “embellishing” his military career and abandoning his National Guard battalion.

“On May 16th, 2005, [Walz] quit, betraying his country, leaving the 1-125th Field Artillery Battalion and its Soldiers hanging; without its senior Non-Commissioned Officer, as the battalion prepared for war,” Behrends and Herr wrote.

Retired Command Sergeants Major Thomas Behrends and Paul Herr said Walz retired from his 24-year tenure in the National Guard after learning that his battalion would be deployed to Iraq, despite allegedly assuring his fellow troops he would join them.”

August 6, 2024 | Ashe Schow

Vice President Kamala Harris picked Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her running mate on Tuesday, and will likely emphasize his military service as part of their campaign.

But when Walz was running for governor in 2018, former members of the National Guard spoke out about his service, with a retired command sergeant major saying he “embellished and selectively omitted facts of his military career for years.”

In an open letter posted to Facebook that year, retired Command Sergeants Major Thomas Behrends and Paul Herr wrote that Walz retired just a few months after receiving a warning order that his battalion would be deployed to Iraq – even though he told military personnel he would be going on the mission.

“On May 16th, 2005, [Walz] quit, betraying his country, leaving the 1-125th Field Artillery Battalion and its Soldiers hanging; without its senior Non-Commissioned Officer, as the battalion prepared for war,” Behrends and Herr wrote.

The pair wrote that Walz said he needed to retire to run for Congress, but this was untrue. Walz could have run for Congress and requested permission from the Secretary of Defense before he entered active duty, the pair claimed.

“If he had retired normally and respectfully, you would think he would have ensured his retirement documents were correctly filled out and signed, and that he would have ensured he was reduced to Master Sergeant for dropping out of the academy,” the two wrote. “Instead he slithered out the door and waited for the paperwork to catch up to him.”

They noted that his official retirement document says “soldier not available for signature.”

Walz’s sudden retirement complicated his selection to the United States Army Sergeants Major Academy, Behrends and Herr wrote. Once someone accepts enrollment, they agree to three stipulations: to serve two years after graduation from the academy or promotion, that failing the course could result in being kicked out of the military, and that they will be reduced to Master Sergeant if they don’t complete the course.

Walz wasn’t promoted to Command Sergeant Major until September 17, 2004. A month earlier, he was photographed holding a protest sign outside a rally for President George W. Bush’s re-election campaign, though it doesn’t seem as though the military noticed or disciplined him.

Less than a year after his promotion, Walz retired, meaning his promotion was nullified since he broke the agreement he signed when entering the academy.

On September 10, 2005, Walz was reduced to Master Sergeant. As Behrends and Herr wrote, “It took a while for the system to catch up to him as it was uncharted territory, literally no one quits in the position he was in, or drops out of the academy.”

In November 2005, Walz reached out to his former battalion as it was preparing for war. He offered to hold a fundraiser for their bus trip home over Christmas. “The same Soldiers he had abandoned just months before, trying to buy their votes,” Behrends and Herr wrote.

These are not the only two to call out Walz’s service. According to Behrends and Herr, Tom Hagen, an Iraq war veteran, wrote a letter to the Winona Daily News calling Walz’s retirement “disturbing”.

“But even more disturbing is the fact that Walz quickly retired after learning that his unit —southern Minnesota’s 1-125 FA Battalion — would be sent to Iraq,” Hagen wrote in the letter, according to Behrends and Herr. “For Tim Walz to abandon his fellow soldiers and quit when they needed experienced leadership most is disheartening. It dishonors those brave American men and women who did answer their nation’s call and who continue to serve, fight and unfortunately die in harm’s way for us.”

The letter prompted a scathing response from Walz, who defended his service record.

“After completing 20 years of service in 2001, I re-enlisted to serve our country for an additional four years following Sept. 11 and retired the year before my battalion was deployed to Iraq in order to run for Congress,” Walz said. “I’m proud of the 24 years I served our country in the Army National Guard. There’s a code of honor among those who’ve served, and normally this type of partisan political attack comes only from one who’s never worn a uniform.”

Behrends and Herr note that Walz’s official Report of Separation and Record of Service state that Walz re-enlisted on September 18, 2001, for six years. Walz said in his response to Hagen that he only re-enlisted for four years, which would have made his retirement date September 18, 2005 – four months later than when he actually retired.

“The bottom line in all of this is gut wrenching and sad to explain,” Behrends and Herr concluded. “When the nation called, he quit.”

By Caitlin Doornbos and Josh Christenson

Published Aug. 6, 2024, 1:00 p.m. ET

[aviscarrentals]

why i believe alex replacing logan is the worst possible decision williams could make

#1: logan’s confidence

we saw this exact thing happen with checo last year. after his brief stint of trading wins with max, max continued to consistently wipe the floor with him via the gap in their performances. this continued to eat away at checo’s confidence until, by the end of the season, he was t-boning alex albon in singapore for no reason and somehow retiring twice in suzuka. now that there has been an extended break and he has had the chance to grind and truly work on himself nonstop, he has returned with incredible form. but who knows how long this will last? as soon as there’s a race that isn’t a red bull 1-2, he will be completely torn into and i believe the downward trajectory of last year will repeat itself.

this is very similar to what logan went through last year. once he was announced, there was so much hope for an incredible debut season, but that never came his way. i think the first big nail in the coffin was getting his first p20 at his home race and i think the biggest hit was qatar. even though he should never ever be ashamed of putting his safety first, i understand why, from an athlete’s perspective, he would look at that race as a failure.

fortunately for him, he has had a team with incredibly strong leadership backing him up. giving him the opportunities he needed, never giving up on him, celebrating the single point he scored last year like he lassoed the fucking moon, and re-signing him because he has such incredible potential as a formula 1 driver. everything went wrong for logan, except for williams, who did everything right.

except now, williams has publicly stated that they have no faith in him to score points. now the only support logan has is random fans at races, strangers on the internet, and his own friends and family. that must feel fucking awful. logan has been so positive throughout the struggles of this year and last, but he has to be hurting right now. there’s no way he isn’t.

logan sargeant is not a bad driver. you can disagree with me as loud as you want to, but i won’t hear a word of it.

absolutely stunning junior career aside, logan showed incredible improvement towards the end of the season. not only did he score a point in austin, but he came unbearably close in mexico, and if it weren’t for a hydraulics failure, he very easily could have had two points finishes in a row.

this year may seem like it has gotten off to a bad start for him, but i heavily disagree. in bahrain he had great pace and was steadily climbing closer and closer to the points when he had a brake failure. the car switched his balance completely on its own and made it literally impossible for him to turn. even max couldn’t recover from that.

in jeddah his pace was wonderful again. i think his biggest struggle currently is qualifying, but he was overtaking beautifully and making his way up the field. while 15th isn’t a spectacular finish, he was matching alex quite well throughout the whole race. (also jeddah sucks so he gets a pass 👎)

george russell did not score a SINGLE point during his rookie season for williams and he is now a race-winning future championship contender and beating his 7x wdc teammate in the standings at p4. logan has already beaten that AND he has an experienced driver that he seems to get on with quite well as a teammate to mentor him, which george didn’t have; he was william’s number one driver from day one. logan has so much potential that is only being hindered by his lack of confidence, unpreparedness (reminder he was brought to f1 an entire year earlier than he was originally supposed to be; they planned for him to be a 2024 rookie), and a shitty car.

#2: alex albon

now poor alex is in the worst position of his life. brother already probably feels like shit for putting logan through this (even though it is NOT his fault and he has absolutely zero say in this decision) and if he doesn’t score any points this weekend, he will be torn to shreds by the media.

i have already seen multiple posts including alex in their list of fuck yous. this will do incredible damage to him pr-wise and will also make him feel even worse if he doesn’t somehow pull off a miracle performance.

#3: albert park

alex is an incredible driver, constantly pulling a back marker car into the points. however, this is a track that he has historically struggled at (in the exact same turn might i add!!) for multiple years in a row. who’s to say this mistake could not be made tomorrow or sunday as well? that will make everyone involved look and feel horrible.

not to mention that the fw46 is NOT SUITED for albert park. AT ALL. vcarb’s official website describes it as a ‘medium-high’ downforce track, which is exactly what the car is suited to struggle with, making it nearly impossible for albono to score points (which, like stated before, will be terrible for him) as well as making this gp a likely inconsequential race! meaning this is the perfect opportunity to let logan drive on the limit and really showcase his true talent and capabilities as a driver.

but now williams has chosen to do the complete opposite and ruined logan’s trust in his team as well as any other offers from rival teams for him for the 2025 season. if logan’s own team would bench him for his teammate, why should they take him over a talented upcoming rookie? (this is a rhetorical question; i truly believe he has the potential to, with a good enough car and team behind him, become a race-winning driver in the future.)

#4: james vowles and the future of williams

james has justified this decision by mentioning how every race counts and that a single point can make a world’s difference in the midfield. while this is true, james has also been on the record multiple times saying that he doesn’t give two shits about this season (as well as the next few). he has stated that his goal is long-term, to rebuild the team and return it to its former success of the 90s and early 2000s. so why ruin the reputation of your driver who you have been supporting since his junior career over the possibility of a single point or two? that is a short-term solution, not a long-term one. james is usually a wonderfully eloquent speaker, however, he has completely contradicted himself here.

in my opinion, the best decision would be to race logan. while i love alex to death, he’s the one who crashed his car, completely on his own with no fellow drivers or failures on the car’s side to blame. logically, he should be the one to sit out the race, no?

like i briefly touched on before, i also think this is a golden opportunity to put logan in a race where they will most likely come away with nothing anyways and give him the opportunity to pull off something incredible (which he absolutely can under the right circumstances). if he was able to have a good drive on sunday, he would be a star and williams would look like geniuses. with this decision, everyone just looks like an asshole.

final thoughts

to conclude, i am no certified expert, but this decision makes zero sense to me, as it also does to many others from what i’ve seen. i usually wholeheartedly agree with all of james’ decisions, but this one beats me. i cannot for the life of me figure out why williams would choose this.

there is a part of me that hopes williams will reverse this decision before sunday in order to save themselves from all of the pr backlash they are facing, but i understand that that is very much wishful thinking. the only good thing that can come from this is williams finally learning how to be prepared and/or logan being able to channel his frustration into motivation (although i don’t think there’s any way for him to possibly work harder than he already has).

if anyone disagrees with me and thinks this is the right decision for williams to make, i would love to hear why. no one has to agree with me, these are just my personal thoughts on the situation.

-avis 🏎️💨