#supreme equipment

[fortune-maiden]

Cheap as hell? Yes.

Did I complete a Supreme FMS? ALSO YES! :D

[liferetainsitssparkle]

and in true spn fashion they introduced a plot point that was So Fucking Weird and interesting and then wrapped it up in 2 episodes, like as an aside. what do you Mean the frankensteins are real and did 9/11

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1979 Pontiac Firebird

The 1979 Pontiac Firebird stands as a symbol of the late 1970s American muscle car era, a time when bold styling and performance were key selling points. The Firebird, produced by Pontiac from 1967 to 2002, had evolved significantly by the time it reached its 1979 iteration, marking one of its most memorable and iconic versions.

The 1979 Firebird came in several models, including the base Firebird, the luxurious Esprit, the sporty Formula, and the high-performance Trans Am. Each model had its unique appeal, but the Trans Am was undoubtedly the star of the lineup. Known for its aggressive styling, the Trans Am featured a distinctive "screaming chicken" hood decal, a hallmark that became synonymous with the Firebird brand. This large, flamboyant decal stretched across the hood, making an unmistakable statement about the car’s performance pedigree.

Under the hood, the 1979 Firebird offered a range of engine options. The base models came with a 3.8-liter V6 or a 4.9-liter V8, while the more performance-oriented Trans Am could be equipped with a 6.6-liter V8 engine, known as the "403" for its cubic inch displacement. This engine produced 185 horsepower, a respectable figure for the era, and provided the Trans Am with a powerful and throaty exhaust note that thrilled enthusiasts.

The interior of the 1979 Firebird was designed with both comfort and style in mind. The cockpit-style dashboard was driver-focused, with gauges and controls angled towards the driver for ease of use. Bucket seats, often upholstered in vinyl or optional cloth, provided a sporty feel, while the T-top roof, available on the Trans Am, allowed for an open-air driving experience that was perfect for cruising on sunny days.

In addition to its performance and styling, the 1979 Firebird also benefited from the popularity it gained through pop culture. The Firebird Trans Am was famously featured in the 1977 film "Smokey and the Bandit," starring Burt Reynolds. This movie immortalized the Trans Am as a symbol of rebellious spirit and high-speed chases, further cementing its status as a cultural icon.

Despite the challenges of the late 1970s, including increasing emissions regulations and the oil crisis, the 1979 Pontiac Firebird managed to uphold the spirit of the muscle car. Its blend of striking design, performance capabilities, and cultural significance make it a beloved classic among car enthusiasts. Today, well-preserved and restored Firebirds from 1979 are highly sought after by collectors, serving as a reminder of a bygone era of American automotive history where style and performance reigned supreme.

The legacy of the 1979 Pontiac Firebird continues to inspire car lovers, and its presence in the automotive world remains strong, a testament to its enduring appeal and the indelible mark it left on the muscle car landscape.

[tofu83]

What men bred for

4. Stallions and Cows

Countless transparent glass columns are filled with milky white liquid. The liquid surges and gradually recedes, and white figures appear from them.

Now in each column is a smooth, hairless, muscular male figure without genitals. The color of figure’s skin gradually deepens from completely white to normal skin color. Then, the hair and the genital grows, and the figure becomes indistinguishable from a real person.

A strong gust of wind blew through the columns, leaving the men dry and clean. There was a beep in the room and they all opened eyes, the glass of the tube also retracting into the floor. Countless men who looked exactly the same stepped out of the platform, turned left, and walked towards another room.

The two "wild earthlings" escorted by the security drones were shocked by the sight in front of them.

"You were cultivated in this factory, but not in this cloning room. Only the best individuals will be cloned and directly made into adult individuals for rapid shipment." The drones explained to them in a monotone, emotionless voice.

"And you are prey-type humans who were raised from infants to adults using traditional methods, and then released into the wild for hunting. You do not have the memory here because according to regulations, all products leaving the factory must have their memories erased."

Before the two humans could understand the information they heard, a naked man wearing a helmet walked past them with two armored men wearing the same helmet.

"They are the latest products: Space Patrollers. They will be partially mechanized and equipped with armor before leaving the factory to adapt to the harsh environment of outer space. The one in the middle should be considered "the best of the best", so the mechanization process was stopped. He will be modified into a "Stallion" and he will provide his semen to create excellent clones until he die."

" Yet you two are an inferior breed that does not know how to obey your alien masters. You cannot become soldiers, guards or other useful characters, except used as nothing but food." the security drones said.

"However, the R&D director of the factory believes that even wild low-level species like yours can be domesticated, so he arranged this factory tour for you."

The two prisoners were taken to the next room, which contained a row of huge glass tanks filled with milky white liquid, a super muscular man wearing a helmet and covered in black rubber armor, and a group of men wearing helmets, boots and metal briefs.

"What you see is the Bellwether and a whole herd of Cows. The screens on the inside of their helmets are playing scenes of human sexual intercourse in a loop, and the metal underwear constantly stimulates their genitals and arseholes, keeping them on the edge of climax for a long time.

The difference is: the semen of the Cows is of high quality and can be used as high-quality nutrition for the alien masters. They should fill the entire tanks with semen every day;

The Bellwether is responsible for managing the entire herd of dairy cows. Their own semen is of poor quality, but their desire for semen is so strong that they are not allowed to ejaculate but are fed semen as a reward for their work.”

"So why are the masters showing us this?" one of the prisoners asked tremblingly.

"It is a very good start for you to start calling 'Masters'. You will make preliminary adjustments, put on the mind control helmet, and assist the R&D director in the laboratory as a 'Quality Control Assistant' for one month. The earthlings who can serve as the Master's personal assistant is supreme glory."

"And after that?"

"After one month, your helmets will be removed, and the R&D director will review your degree of domestication to determine whether you can become better individuals, or you can only be destroyed."

Before the two prisoners could react, they were put on helmets. A spiral appeared in front of their eyes. The director's whispers sounded in their ears. At the same time, they also felt a device being installed on their groin, giving them a comfortable feeling.

The drone released the two prisoners, trembling with pleasure at the "reward" the armor had given them.

The two prisoners, now "Temporary Drones", were completely hypnotized, controlled by the helmet's instructions, and walked towards the quality control room like robots.

[aviawrites]

the rage of a harkonnen (dune: part two)

pairings: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fem!Reader

summary: The Emperor’s second born daughter, Harauna, has never been truly seen by her father; Her light always being dimmed by the shine of her older sister, Irulan. As Maud’Dib continues fighting on Arrakis and her father’s spot falls farther into jeopardy, Princess Harauna sees an opportunity to finally find her place in the Imperium…Wife of the possible Emperor, ruling alongside Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. (3.9k)

a/n: i’ve already seen this movie twice and i’m going again😛 austin’s performance is so compelling, i couldn’t take my eyes off of him whenever he was on screen. i hope you all liked feyd-rautha as much as i do…otherwise i may be crazy. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: blood, death, abuse

in this story, yn is: Harauna Corrino (Harkonnen)

10191 // month 1 // 📍kaitan 

“Paul Atreides is not our only prospect.” Reverend Mother Mohiam reveals, standing before you and your sister. “The Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will inherit Arrakis. He may be the answer.”

Your eyes open wide, the name itself sending shivers down your spine. You, along with all of your family, knew of Feyd-Rautha - Knew of the Sadistic Harkonnen, known for slaughtering anyone who challenges him, even his own people. 

“Feyd-Rautha?” Irulan furrows her brows, “He’s psychotic.”

“That’s irrelevant. The question is…can we control him?” 

You stare up at the Reverend Mother’s black veil, an idea striking you.  

Since a child, it’s always been Princess Irulan - The Emperor’s daughter. Irulan will inherit the thrones, Irulan will marry Paul Atreides, Irulan will rule the empire. Never once has your father taken the time to look at you. Never once has he asked the Reverend Mother how you are as a Bene Gesserit. If he did, he’d come to learn that you’re just as equipped to take on the role of Empress as your sister. 

You know what you know - You know how impossible it is to ever be worthy of attention in your father’s eyes. The sound of marrying the prince, possibly the future Emperor, doesn’t seem distasteful. Is he a terrible man, yes. May he turn out to be a worse husband, yes. But God forgive you if you choose being the possible ruler of the empire over being second best. 

“I will marry Feyd-Rautha…” You suggest, coming out as more of a squeak. 

Their eyes dart to yours, Irulan’s gaze feeling more like knives piercing your head.

“Young Harauna-“

“No.” Your sister interjects, turning your body toward hers. “Are you crazy? Feyd-Rautha is the last man you need to marry.”

“Irulan, I want to.” You push back, your voice low. “He may be Emperor one day, we need to secure that opportunity. Do we not, Reverend Mother?”

“We absolutely do, Harauna.”

Irulan’s jaw hangs open, looking between the two of you.

“Are you serious? Reverend Mother, you know Feyd-Rautha. You’ve seen him with your own eyes - You want Hara anywhere near that?”

“She’s thinking of the Imperium, Irulan. Should Paul Atreides be alive, he will want the throne.”

“Feyd-Rautha won’t go down without a fight…” You finish for her.

“Precisely. If he loses, Paul will have a bride awaiting him.” She gestures to your sister. “But if he reigns supreme, he’ll have a Corrino by his side.”

Irulan only shakes her head, disbelief glossing in her eyes. 

“Hara…”

“Sister, I need to do this.” You whisper, softly squeezing her hands. “I can’t make decisions like you…I’m not you.”

“W- What does that mean, Hara? I don’t understand-“

“If I get in line for the throne…” You begin. “If I secure a spot for myself in the Empire, I will be nearly equal to you in father’s eyes. I’ll mean something to someone.”

A tear threatens to fall as she struggles to find words. 

“You mean something to me.” She shrugs, now wondering if that holds any value to you. “If I lose you to the Harkonnens…If I have to stay here alone while you’re on Giedi Prime I don’t know how I’ll-“ She quickly wipes her eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t know how I’ll survive this impending war without you, Hara.”

You tilt your head, bringing your hand to Irulan’s cheek. 

“Write to me, Irulan.” You smile, forcing back your own tears as you solidify this departure in your head. “Send messages to Giedi Prime, will you? Write them like you do your entries and I swear to you I’ll read each one. No matter what happens with the Harkonnen’s, I’ll always have my sister back home on my side, right?”  

A thick silence falls upon the three of you, Irulan fighting between perplex and terror as her hands began to quiver in yours.

“I’ll alert the Emperor.” Reverend Mother says, leaving the two of you.

Alone, your sister pulls you into an embrace, one of the tighter ones. She allows her tears to land on your garments, her shoulders trembling as small whimpers escape her lips.

“Don’t do this, Hara.”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

“On your birthday of all days. The Baron should know better than to jeopardize his soon to be Planetary Governor in such a public manner. You could’ve died.” 

“I would not have died.” Your husband fiddles with his blade.

“All slaves should be drugged, should they not?” You remind him. “It’d have taken only one swift slash of the Atreides’ blade and The Baron would’ve lost his heir. He’s insane.”

“Careful, wife.” He warns, “The Baron is flawed but his promises are rich.”

“What could he possibly promise you that’s more important than the entirety of this planet?”

He stares, his eyes scanning you up and down as a small smirk grows on his face. 

“The entirety of Arrakis.” 

Creases form on your forehead, your words coming out as stammers.

“…He promises you…Arrakis?”

“If I manage to control spice production.” He explains, reveling in your dumbfounded expression. 

Your mind immediately imagines your life on Arrakis, a fate you’ve never considered. The plan was to marry Feyd-Rautha, be by his side when he defeats his opponents, have your father kneel to him, and rule the Imperium from the planet of the Harkonnens. But now, thoughts of working from the dune covered planet makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. 

“But-“ You clear your throat, “Um - Is that not Rabban’s job?”

“Rabban failed.” He seethes. “He humiliates house Harkonnen with each Fremen attack he allows. With me ruling the mission, there will be no more.”

“What’s the plan? Once you’re on Arrakis who’s to say my father won’t order you out? What if he doesn’t like how you handle-“

“The Emperor has a set fate too, Harauna. If we were to expose what he did to the Atreides’, the houses would explode. A rise against the Emperor would ensue.” He nears you, looking down at your wide eyes as he bares his blackened mouth. “The throne would be ours to take.”

You don’t know if he meant to admit to what he’s admitted to. Though, you have no doubt he’d tell you his plans to kill your father to your face, indifferent to what you might think. But even Feyd-Rautha should have some sort of limit, shouldn’t he?

“Feyd…” You murmur, “What will happen to him? What will happen to my house? My Reverend Mother, my sisters? They’re innocent they don’t deserve-“

He rolls his eyes, turning away in the midst of your oration. “Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He returns to his spot across the room. “If you want to sit next to me as Empress, I suggest you straighten out a bit, hm?”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

14 hours later 

Feyd-Rautha’s room reeks of deceased Harkonnen bodies and dried blood as you storm in, a scowl on your face. 

Inside, you see your husband squatted by a dead servant, one that if you look too close you may realize is an acquaintance of yours. 

‘FEYD-RAUTHA RABBA HARKO-‘ He’s carved into her pale white skin, his letters bleeding into each other.

The Princess Harauna 3 months ago would scream at the sight. She’d turn and run, alerting her Reverend Mother and father that a cold blooded murderer has gotten into your home. Only…this is home. The man carving names into bodies isn’t a stranger, not an intruder, but the man you married. 

Though you’re not sure he knows it, seeing as you can practically taste the Bene Gesserit on him.

You shove, hard, knocking Feyd-Rautha off balance and onto the concrete floor.

“What the-“

“Seriously!?” You shout, watching his bewildered expression looking back at you. “You’ve not been of age for one whole day and you’ve already betrayed me!”

“You watch yourself, woman.” He warns you, spite in his eyes. 

“I can smell her on you.” You say, knowing all of the signs of a Bene Gesserit’s work, and a sexually vulnerable Feyd-Rautha. “She could be carrying your child!”

Your husband quickly calms himself, seemingly deciding not to waste energy on someone like you. On someone like his wife.

“Would you stop that yelling?” He mumbles, turning and beginning to smear the blood across the mutilated arm.

“How dare you.” You scoff. “I’m meant to be your princess. I’m meant to be your queen Feyd-Rautha! Not some girl who was on a mission. A Bene Gesserit who was here to test you and didn’t want you for more than one night-“

“You’re not any better!” He rises, his demeanor changing like night and day in a split second. 

The minute he gets angry, his energy dominates the room. “Don’t you ever think you’re a better woman for being a power hungry leech who called dibs on the heir before anyone else.” He jabs, lowering until he’s in your face. 

Your jaw hangs open, offense quickly overpowering the fear that you often feel in the presence of an angry Feyd-Rautha. Or any Feyd-Rautha, at that. 

“I don’t need you.” Your eyes pierce his, flames igniting in yours. “I’m the Emperor’s daughter, I was second in line for the throne. If anything, you needed me to get to where you-“

The wind is knocked out of you as your husband grabs your neck, instantly cutting off your words. He grins, nearly frothing at the mouth as he always does at the slightest hint of violence. He feeds off of violence, in the face of which most people quiver he greets it with a big smile, he yearns for violence, he is violence.

“I needed you, huh?” His face about brushes yours, his saliva dripping onto you. “I wasn’t at home being neglected by daddy, Harauna. I wasn’t the second choice. I didn’t need to marry to get power. I wasn’t worthless.” 

He’s entranced, his hand on your throat tightening with each sentence until you’re sure it’ll snap. You claw at his stained hands, collecting the blood of his servants under your nails.

“Husband-“ You croak, feeling the pressure in your head increase.

Feyd-Rautha only smiles, adrenaline rushing throughout him as he contemplates letting this be the end of you. Maybe he should rid himself of this royal burden before she sits with him at the top.

“Know your place, princess.” He whispers before letting you go with a shove. 

You drop to the floor, crashing into the bloody bodies on the ground and fighting for your pipes to reopen. You frantically heave as he looks down at you once more, evil in his eyes, before he leaves you where you are. 

Weeps escape you, feeling selfish as you cry in the presence of women who got it much worse. 

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you. Nevertheless, in times like this, the possibility of being ruler of the Imperium outweighs the possibility of dying due to your attempts. 

“Be the worst position in the highest room.” Your father used to tell you, “For some never make it to the room.”

10191 // month 4 // 📍starship 

The low hum of the frigate gives the cold ambience some character. Rabban lounges across the kitchen table, his feet up on the marble. Your husband sits a few chairs down from you, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, creating a repetitive sound for the two of you to suffer through.

“Princess Harauna.” You hear as the grand doors within the starship open. A servant enters, seemingly a younger version of the Baron, with a thin metal tube in his hand. 

The big man hands it to you, bowing slightly before shuffling away.

“Say thanks to the piggy.” Feyd-Rautha teases, a devilish grin on his face.

Rabban slightly chuckles as you eye your husband, sighing before opening the letter.

“To my sister, Hara.” 

Your eyes gleam, seeming to scan faster and faster the more and more you read. The two men in the room with you don’t seem to notice, mindlessly engaging in their own boredom as the ship heats up in the weather of Arrakis. 

You shut the tube with a click, looking down at it as you weakly attempt to process what you’ve just read.  

“Paul Atreides…is coming.” You reveal, catching the attention of Rabban and Feyd-Rautha. “He makes his way from the south.”

“Paul Atreides is dead.” Rabban corrects you. 

“He didn’t die in the attack-“

“I know that, woman!” He abruptly shouts, banging the table. “I saw to it myself, him and his mother died in the-“

“Sandstorm.” You finish, much quieter than he began. “But he didn’t.”

Your husband has turned his body toward you, now intently listening.

“They live - And they challenge my father now.” You look up at the two of them, “Him. He must be this Maud’Dib, this Lisan-Al-Gaib. Who else would it be?”

“Wait,” Feyd speaks up, “Challenge your father for what, exactly?”

You meet his gaze before reopening the letter, searching for the Irulan’s line on the challenge:

Paul Atreides will arrive unannounced when we land in Arrakis in a challenge for the throne.

Rabban shakes his head. “There’s no longer a need for the Emperor on Arrakis.” He misses the point, “We’ve got the spice production under control. The old bastard can stay home.”

Feyd-Rautha leans his elbows in his knees, looking up at you with that same evil look he gets whenever a dangerous plan arises.

“Atreides’,” He thinks aloud, “They’re little rats. Insects that keep popping up no matter how many times you exterminate.”

“Should I alert the Baron?” Rabban asks, speaking quicker than his acute brain can think. 

“You will do no such thing.” Feyd demands, conjuring up his plan in his much more suitable brain. “Since the Emperor is deciding to pay us a visit despite the work l've done here…Maybe the Atreides' will do the bloody work for us. Keep us in the good graces of the Great Houses."

Bloody work, he says. The exposure and diminishing of your father’s name he means. 

“Brother.” Rabban counters, “The Atreides’ - The Fremen - They’ll have us outnumbered. Uncle should be aware-“

“You will do no such thing.” His brother orders, now loosely pointing his blade toward Rabban. “The throne is mine therefore the throne is yours. The Baron won’t make Harkonnen the greatest house, brother. I will.” He leers.

“Husband,” You voice reason, seeing all of the ways you could lose your promised spot to this scheme. “If it comes to a fight and Paul beats you-“

“He won’t beat me.”

“But if this challenge doesn’t go our way,” You hypothesize, “We could lose everything. Paul Atreides won’t let my father live, not after what he’s done. My family will hold no power, my sister will be-“

"I will remain unharmed, will I not? As will my brother.” He redirects. “Are we not your biggest concern anymore? Are we not your family, Harauna?" 

…

The ship gets hotter and hotter as you near Arrakeen. Feyd-Rautha meddles with his torso buttons on the opposite side of the room as you stare at the screen in your bedroom, broadcasting the sandy terrain of the new planet.

“What would your plans be as Emperor, Feyd-Rautha?” You query, eyes locked on the family owned land.

He sighs as he always does when you open your mouth, as if nothing his wife says is worthwhile. 

“Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He repeats.

“Just answer me…Please.” You urge, the question having appeared in your mind minutes ago and hasn’t stopped nagging since. 

“What do you think my plans are, princess?” He turns toward you, his dark and threatening eyes seeming to dim the entire room. “I’m going to make the entire Imperium Harkonnen. Our family will be the most powerful spice harvesters anyone’s ever seen.” He begins, “I’ll give my Empress a child, grow our empire, and teach my princeling how to rule.”

You listen intently, trying your hardest to envision your life going from Princess of Kaitan, to wife of the heir, to Empress of the Imperium beside Feyd-Rautha, of all men.

Be the worst position in the highest room.

Your husband goes on. “Caladan will be a thing of the past. Atreides will be a thing of the past. Harkonnen will be the great house and any others will just be…Maud’Dib.” He chuckles.

“‘Your Empress’...” You point out, never having heard your name. You only wish to hear where you and your family stand in his master plan. “Would it be me?”

He gives you his undivided attention, letting go of his leather vest. “Why must you talk so much about things that don’t matter?” He asks, true indifference and apathy in his tone.

For some never make it to the room.

“…Is it me or no one?” You speak up, your voice frantically running before your mind can catch up. “Is it me or death, Feyd-Rautha?”

Your attitude shifts in the middle of your sentence as you realize where you’ve heard these exact words before.

“You or no one, Irulan.” Your father would say, stroking your sister’s hair while the rest of you sat and waited for nothing. 

Never in your life did you plan to sit in a Harkonnen’s bedroom and beg for his approval. For his confirmation that you were his. 

But here you are, begging the worst of men to love you the way The Emperor never did. The way he never will. 

“In two moons I will be Emperor.” Feyd-Rautha strides toward you, holding your hands in his as he bores. “Harauna Harkonnen will be next to me.”

A smile grows wide on your face; An odd, yet full, feeling of acceptance spiraling throughout you.

His eyes suddenly seem to get even darker as his grip on your hands morphs into a crushing clutch. “For as long as she knows her place, she will remain.”

Ice replaces the once warm feeling in your veins. Your smile fades as his grows, watching the fear in you rise with each squeeze of your fingers. Tears form in your eyes as the reality of your situation sets in once more as it has over and over since you step foot on Giedi Prime.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you.

10191 // month 4 // 📍arrakeen

two days later

You all stand completely still, your heartbeat seeming to be louder than the atomics outside of the Emperor’s structure. Inside the ring of Sardukaur lies your family; Irulan hiding behind your father as Maud’Dib, in front of your eyes, holds a blade over the Baron.

You and Feyd-Rautha stand alone across the walkway, your husband seemingly hypnotized by Paul Atreides as he plunges it into his uncles neck. Your hand resting on Feyd’s lower back vibrates as his breathing heavies, being just as amazed by Paul as you are. 

The both of your mouths hang open, and for once, you and your husband seem to be on the same page. Paul begins barking orders at your father as you bring your lips to Feyd’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper to not interfere with the daring Paul Maud’Dib.

“In the event of your death…” You begin. He slightly cocks his head toward you, listening. “Would you have me marry him?”

Paul gives one last daring look at the sea of people standing against him, though, he seems as fearless as your husband as his expression never wavers from stone. 

“Is he worthy?”

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t so much as flinch at your comment, new, for a man like him. You can’t help but believe it’s because you’re right. The na-Baron recognizes that the viciousness that is Paul Atreides, no matter how unexpected, is a perfect match for him. A perfect match for his wife. 

Is he wrong to admit that if not him, Paul may be the closest thing to fit to be Emperor of the universe?

…

You’ve never laid eyes on a fight so glorious. The two most powerful and ferocious men on Arrakis clinking their blades again and again in a battle for the throne. 

The room falls silent as your husband lodges his sword into Paul, holding him close as one of the two release an animalistic roar. His mother stands, his Fremen’s mouths hang agape, your husband just hardly smiles at you over his shoulder. 

You can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach. Yes - You want Feyd-Rautha to reign supreme. Yes, you want to be Empress. But as you watch the devilish sneer on his face fill out as Paul’s blood stains his pasty hand, your heart seems to be pulling you in another direction. You’ve always been quite talented at telling good from bad; But Maud’Dib, you can’t seem to figure out. He lays in the gray area in between the two, you determine. 

Your reflection is quickly halted as the squelching sound of an edge piercing skin fills the room. You sway to the side, eyes wide as you see Paul’s hand gripping the handle, the rest buried into your husband’s heart. 

A gasp escapes many in the room, you included as a hand flies to your mouth. You and your father very well may be the only people in the room who are rooting for Feyd-Rautha. Knowing this, the smiles that sprinkle themselves on attendants throughout the room quickly after the inhale isn’t unanticipated. 

“You…” His raspy voice is almost too quiet for you to catch as he fights for each breath. “You fought well…Atreides.”

He slowly turns his head just far enough to have you in his sight. Even in death, Feyd-Rautha remains as menacing as the day you first met him. 

He has no words for you. He only bares that stupid, prideful, blackened smile that got him stabbed in the first place. 

You seem in a trance as you watch his body thud to the floor, looking as lifeless as the women on his bedroom floor back home. 

“Lisan-Al-Gaib!” A Fremen leader calls, breaking the silence as his people repeat after him.

Paul Atreides, Feyd-Rautha’s murderer, rises. He limps toward you and your family, prompting your sister to swiftly grab your free hand as the other slowly lowers from your lips. 

You had no love for Feyd-Rautha, nothing real. For him you experienced nothing that you should feel for a husband. Nevertheless, the tears flow all the same. 

"The life debt has been paid.” Irulan blurts, squeezing your hand as Paul nears you. “Spare my father and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours."

Her words snap you out of your haze, throwing you into the face of reality as it strikes you in the heart. 

"I'll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe and we will rule together over the empire." Paul declared.

In the span of seconds you imagine the moment a trillion different ways. If only he had nodded toward you, not Irulan.

‘Where is integrity?’ You wonder. 

Where is honor in sacrifice when you've given all you know to give and you still don't win. You can never seem to come out on top. You can never seem to be first…But your sister can, as she always does.

You snatch your hand away from your Irulan’s; Your eyes glued to your father, now kneeling, as rage grows within you. The rage of all of the rejection you've faced, the rage of all you have given to get to where you are, the rage of now wishing Feyd-Rautha had stuck Paul Atreides' head on a spike for all of Arrakis to see.

The rage of a Harkonnen.

[saphronethaleph]

RTKM

“I can’t speak to him until tomorrow?” Obi-Wan checked.

“I am afraid not,” Taun We replied, with a conciliatory gesture. “It is a shame you have come all this way to meet with such inconvenience, but perhaps if you had commed ahead…?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“That would have worked better,” he decided, thinking. “Would you be able to run me through some of the key decisions made on the specifics of the army? I’m afraid they were taken several years ago, and I’ve only come to this particular project quite recently – I’d like to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

“Of course,” Taun We agreed. “In addition to providing the template, Jango made many of the decisions on training – that is not our speciality, as we prefer to allow our clients to make the appropriate arrangements in doctrinal matters.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan agreed, pacing down the hallway. “What weapons and equipment are included in the contract?”

“A basic load for the first two hundred thousand units has been procured,” Taun We replied. “All part of the initial purchase, naturally. We are aware that our clients may need to take urgent delivery. Any upgrades, however, will have to be provided by the client.”

She gestured, indicating one of the staging areas. “Rothana Heavy Engineering has provided much of the heavy equipment. Several large orders were made.”

This was getting more and more involved, and Obi-Wan’s worry was only increasing.

How much money was involved with this army?

“You mentioned behavioural modifications?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Taun We confirmed. “Neural inhibitor biochips are a standard installation on most of our clone lines. Our products are designed for maximum obedience through a careful inculcation of a culture of volunteerism, but overrides are always considered useful.”

She took out a datapad, tapping on it, then held it out for him. “A full list of the commands. I hope you’ll find that the details are entirely within the contracted parameters.”

“I hope so as well,” Obi-Wan replied, paging through the datapad.

He’d been wondering how a clone army could work, on a practical level, but seeing some of these commands it was apparent what would be involved. The clones would be trained in all military skills, and in showing initiative, but the dozens of indexed commands would erase or alter specific factors of their behaviour.

They would retain the same skills as before, but their free will would be restricted, causing them to obey as readily as droids. One of the commands on the datapad was to discard their communicators immediately, while another was an order to charge a position, regardless of casualties – and Obi-Wan had seen enough of conflict to know that that would be able to win some battles all by itself.

So long as you didn’t see the ten-year-old clones who’d be doing it as who they were. As much children as adults.

Then he stopped, and stared.

“Is something wrong, Jedi Kenobi?” Taun We asked.

Obi-Wan shook himself.

“My apologies,” he said, turning off the datapad and stowing it in his robes. “While I hope it won’t cause any problems for you, I’m going to need to check something later… are there any exercises going on at the moment?”

“Of course,” Taun We replied, pleasantly. “Would you prefer close combat exercises, heavy weapons, or long arms?”

“You’re going to need to hear this, Masters,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve arrived on Kamino and found that Master Sifo-Dyas had ordered a clone army that was – supposedly – to be used by the Jedi, at the request of the Senate almost ten years ago.”

“Killed before that, he was,” Yoda replied.

“That was my impression as well, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. “But the clone army has neural override chips in them – standard practice here, I understand – and I was given a list of the commands.”

He cleared his throat. “Order number: 66. Authorized to be used by: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, voice command, no other authorization required. Approved propagation: Command Clones may spread this order down the chain of command. Effects: Eliminate all previous affection or comradeship towards Jedi subjects of order, specified at time of use. If undefined, all Jedi are subject to order. Order subjects are to be designated traitors and eliminated immediately, maximum priority. Clones not acting in compliance with order are to be designated traitors.”

Mace Windu inhaled.

“That would be-” he began, but Obi-Wan raised his hand.

“Sorry, Master, but I hadn’t finished,” he said. “The effect section continues: redesignate Supreme Chancellor as Lord Sidious.”

Mace and Yoda both stared at Obi-Wan through the scrambled hologram link.

“Hell, kriffing,” Yoda said, eventually.

Mace started giggling.

“Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, worried.

“This is why you always read the manual,” Mace said, between giggles.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

⚔ ARES: God of War and Violence 🐗

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s either during or after a victorious battle. If it’s during a battle, like Capture the Flag, it’s when your blood is pumping and you’re on adrenaline high. You could be losing or winning, but you hit that point of state where you’re just so in the zone before you realize you’re covered in red. You decimate the other team, striking fear in their hearts as they see you running over their teammates, your weapon swinging like it’s your own limb. Everyone looks above your head as they see the floating red boar above your head and then you hear a roar of cheer from your now half–siblings. They let out whoops, howls, and cheers, slapping you on the back and some wrestling you if you’re still battle high, before they lift you up and carry you around. 

When you’re shown the cabin, you’re immediately nerved by the boar head posted above the door, its eyes following you…but you can’t focus on that because you’re immediately told and made to remember where the live mines are around the entrance. They didn’t clarify if they were actual mines or alternative mines…they said it was classified information and you didn’t have the clearance level yet. Either which you didn’t want to find out the hard way.

If the Hephaestus cabin is the forge, you bet you can imagine that the Ares cabin is their armoury. It's not on the scale as theirs, but its pretty close. Weapons galore. It's a weapon maniacs dream. You have equipment here to upkeep and maintain weapons and if you pick out a weapon that you're not sure how to maintain? You have siblings jumping up the chance to show you. 

You wanna try and wield different weapons? Go on ahead! Every Ares’ member has their own mini armoury and collection of weapons. 

Y'know how siblings like to push each other and get into play fights? Yeah, the Ares cabin is like that constantly. It goes from rough housing to actual sparring. If you're not a big fan of participating in it, you're going to learn how to redirect people's movements. Don't worry about it getting the heat off you, as long its not entirely personal, you have another Ares’ sibling ready to switch with you. 

You also begin to take on bets because with the amount of rough-housing and sparring, it's just too good of an opportunity. The currency ranges from actual dollars, drachmas, candy bars, or what have you. All currency is accepted.  

People often like talking with their fists, but it's mostly getting rid of the pent up emotions when you guys do some talk to talk. Got to be fair you know.

If you're not particularly looking for a fight, don't worry about it. While it is true, you're a war god child, you're also good at de-escalating. After all, there's a reason in the book, "The Art of War", Sun Tzu says "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting".

Blood was roaring in your ears with eyes red as you gripped your weapon high. Your veins were pumping with adrenaline, almost making you shake but you never felt more alive. You had just won and you thrust up your weapon high in the air, and let out a yell. Immediately, a cacophony of cheers and yells joined you, sending another spike of adrenaline and you faintly saw the claim of Ares above your head. People swarmed you and in the zone, you attacked them which they gleefully returned back the favour. Then they lifted you up in the air, cheering that about another child of Ares as you were carried back to the Ares cabin where your siblings plopped you in front of it, and Clarisse at the head. 

She grinned at you, her figure imposing but you kept your chin high. 

“Not bad, but expected as a child of Ares. Don’t let it get to your head because there’s plenty coming” she said. 

“Bring it on” you fired back with a grin as she gave a smirk. 

“I’m Clarisse Rue, cabin leader of Cabin 5. Welcome to the Ares cabin.” 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Kavitha Surana at ProPublica:

In her final hours, Amber Nicole Thurman suffered from a grave infection that her suburban Atlanta hospital was well-equipped to treat. She’d taken abortion pills and encountered a rare complication; she had not expelled all of the fetal tissue from her body. She showed up at Piedmont Henry Hospital in need of a routine procedure to clear it from her uterus, called a dilation and curettage, or D&C. But just that summer, her state had made performing the procedure a felony, with few exceptions. Any doctor who violated the new Georgia law could be prosecuted and face up to a decade in prison. Thurman waited in pain in a hospital bed, worried about what would happen to her 6-year-old son, as doctors monitored her infection spreading, her blood pressure sinking and her organs beginning to fail. It took 20 hours for doctors to finally operate. By then, it was too late.

The otherwise healthy 28-year-old medical assistant, who had her sights set on nursing school, should not have died, an official state committee recently concluded.

Tasked with examining pregnancy-related deaths to improve maternal health, the experts, including 10 doctors, deemed hers “preventable” and said the hospital’s delay in performing the critical procedure had a “large” impact on her fatal outcome. Their reviews of individual patient cases are not made public. But ProPublica obtained reports that confirm that at least two women have already died after they couldn’t access legal abortions and timely medical care in their state. There are almost certainly others. Committees like the one in Georgia, set up in each state, often operate with a two-year lag behind the cases they examine, meaning that experts are only now beginning to delve into deaths that took place after the Supreme Court overturned the federal right to abortion.

Thurman’s case marks the first time an abortion-related death, officially deemed “preventable,” is coming to public light. ProPublica will share the story of the second in the coming days. We are also exploring other deaths that have not yet been reviewed but appear to be connected to abortion bans. Doctors warned state legislators women would die if medical procedures sometimes needed to save lives became illegal. Though Republican lawmakers who voted for state bans on abortion say the laws have exceptions to protect the “life of the mother,” medical experts cautioned that the language is not rooted in science and ignores the fast-moving realities of medicine.

The most restrictive state laws, experts predicted, would pit doctors’ fears of prosecution against their patients’ health needs, requiring providers to make sure their patient was inarguably on the brink of death or facing “irreversible” harm when they intervened with procedures like a D&C. “They would feel the need to wait for a higher blood pressure, wait for a higher fever — really got to justify this one — bleed a little bit more,” Dr. Melissa Kottke, an OB-GYN at Emory, warned lawmakers in 2019 during one of the hearings over Georgia’s ban. Doctors and a nurse involved in Thurman’s care declined to explain their thinking and did not respond to questions from ProPublica. Communications staff from the hospital did not respond to multiple requests for comment. Georgia’s Department of Public Health, which oversees the state maternal mortality review committee, said it cannot comment on ProPublica’s reporting because the committee’s cases are confidential and protected by federal law.

The availability of D&Cs for both abortions and routine miscarriage care helped save lives after the 1973 Supreme Court ruling in Roe v. Wade, studies show, reducing the rate of maternal deaths for women of color by up to 40% the first year after abortion became legal. But since abortion was banned or restricted in 22 states over the past two years, women in serious danger have been turned away from emergency rooms and told that they needed to be in more peril before doctors could help. Some have been forced to continue high-risk pregnancies that threatened their lives. Those whose pregnancies weren’t even viable have been told they could return when they were “crashing.” Such stories have been at the center of the upcoming presidential election, during which the right to abortion is on the ballot in 10 states.

Thurman, who carried the full load of a single parent, loved being a mother. Every chance she got, she took her son to petting zoos, to pop-up museums and on planned trips, like one to a Florida beach. “The talks I have with my son are everything,” she posted on social media.

But when she learned she was pregnant with twins in the summer of 2022, she quickly decided she needed to preserve her newfound stability, her best friend, Ricaria Baker, told ProPublica. Thurman and her son had recently moved out of her family’s home and into a gated apartment complex with a pool, and she was planning to enroll in nursing school. The timing could not have been worse. On July 20, the day Georgia’s law banning abortion at six weeks went into effect, her pregnancy had just passed that mark, according to records her family shared with ProPublica. Thurman wanted a surgical abortion close to home and held out hope as advocates tried to get the ban paused in court, Baker said. But as her pregnancy progressed to its ninth week, she couldn’t wait any longer. She scheduled a D&C in North Carolina, where abortion at that stage was still legal, and on Aug. 13 woke up at 4 a.m. to make the journey with her best friend.

On their drive, they hit standstill traffic, Baker said. The clinic couldn’t hold Thurman’s spot longer than 15 minutes — it was inundated with women from other states where bans had taken effect. Instead, a clinic employee offered Thurman a two-pill abortion regimen approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, mifepristone and misoprostol. Her pregnancy was well within the standard of care for that treatment. Getting to the clinic had required scheduling a day off from work, finding a babysitter, making up an excuse to borrow a relative’s car and walking through a crowd of anti-abortion protesters. Thurman didn’t want to reschedule, Baker said. At the clinic, Thurman sat through a counseling session in which she was told how to safely take the pills and instructed to go to the emergency room if complications developed. She signed a release saying she understood. She took the first pill there and insisted on driving home before any symptoms started, Baker said. She took the second pill the next day, as directed.

Deaths due to complications from abortion pills are extremely rare. Out of nearly 6 million women who’ve taken mifepristone in the U.S. since 2000, 32 deaths were reported to the FDA through 2022, regardless of whether the drug played a role. Of those, 11 patients developed sepsis. Most of the remaining cases involved intentional and accidental drug overdoses, suicide, homicide and ruptured ectopic pregnancies. Baker and Thurman spoke every day that week. At first, there was only cramping, which Thurman expected. But days after she took the second pill, the pain increased and blood was soaking through more than one pad per hour. If she had lived nearby, the clinic in North Carolina would have performed a D&C for free as soon as she followed up, the executive director told ProPublica. But Thurman was four hours away.

The consequences of draconian abortion bans are being felt, as at least two women in Georgia died over being denied emergency medical care.

[genericpuff]

I'm not sure if anyone else has made this connection, but I've never seen it mentioned before. I think, similar to Lolita, RS was also inspired by the art of Trevor Brown. His work has a lot of young girls and medical fetish themes (to put it lightly) in a style reminiscent of RS's earlier stuff.

sigh

CW: medical fetish art often depicting children / child-like characters and medical equipment such as needles, gas masks, etc. seriously don't hit the jump if medical equipment or young girls in nurse's outfits or with open wounds makes you squeamish, I will not blame you for turning around now LOL

OP I was about to just... dismiss this. Wave it away as a funny coincidence that is indeed funny, but doesn't have any real evidence to back it up. I had a post typed up in response already declaring this, after which posting I was gonna move on with my day, work on Rekindled, play some XIV.

Because sure, there are a lot of resemblances between Trevor Brown's work and Rachel's old art, but nothing that can't be dismissed in good faith as a simple coincidence of being within the same genre of fetish art (first three are Trevor's, last three are Rachel's).

But then that little voice in the back of my head whispered in my ear, "Puff. You should double check. Just to be sure. Do your due diligence." And I once again found myself on the precipice of the rabbithole that somehow becomes deeper every time I jump. This time though, I knew it couldn't be that bad, I mean, I had enough confidence in knowing that there's no fucking way she listed Trevor Brown as one of her favorite artists-

God fucking dammit. How in the world did I miss this? I mean, I suppose I missed it simply because I'm not familiar with the works of Trevor Brown, but you can bet your ass I became familiar with it in my digging. Yeah, this guy is a supreme creep.

Again, I am not going to accuse Rachel of being a pedophile because that's just not an accusation that should be thrown around without undeniable evidence. What I will say, which has largely remained the same - though even more confidently now than ever before - is that she's clearly someone who took a lot of inspiration and influence from very problematic artists when she was young (I'm talking in her late teens which has me wondering if she started making medical fetish art when she was still a minor-) and then, BEST guess, she started to drop the medical fetish stuff around the time she went to college (which was also the same time she dropped The Doctor Pepper Show, which later got reworked into The Doctor Foxglove Show which was a lot less reminiscent of her medical fetish style from the early 2000's, but still had some of her usual preferences at play) and that's led up to today where she's drawing comics that look like they're for kids but tackle heavy adult subject matter in the worst way possible that straight up perpetuates grooming.

No matter how much experience I have with this already, no matter how much I think I've already seen, I always find more, and this time was no different. In fact - though unrelated to the original topic - thanks to this one fucking ask, I even found the full Mads Mikkelson comic with the completed caption. You know, that one.

And apparently Mads Mikkelson did very much replace her crush on Jeremy Irons.

Who's Jeremy Irons?

Oh yeah.

I just... y'all I can't. This is un-fucking-real. I'm gonna go take a shower, I need to scrub myself off of this 😭

[bruciemilf]

Bruharvey but Harvey desperately has to impress single parent Bruce Wayne's flock of protective kids.

OHH, I think both Harvey and Two Face acknowledge that, while Bruce loves all his children dearly and needs all of their blessings, they can be bribed one way or another;

Harvey's a whole mafioso that robs banks on the regular. He becomes the personification of " daddy's money."

Dick? All the gym equipment he can imagine.

Damian? Lifetime access to the Zoo + petting privileges.

Tim? His own coffee shop.

Cass doesn't ask for anything besides her dads happiness and safety, but Harvey buys her a ballet studio cause she's his princess

Duke? Again, doesn't ask for anything. " I'm frankly offended that you think my honor and love has a price, --"

" So you don't want your own Batmobile?"

"...Hold on. Let's talk."

But. That being said. There's one child whose word reigns supreme over everyone else's. The one lounged on Bruce's lap like an evil cat.

Jason.

He can't be bought; Or flattered. Or impressed. Or be reasoned with.

Let's face it, the guy who masterfully bended an entire criminal network on a rebellious whim has little reason to value your word over his.

Harvey tried everything. A library cropped straight out of beauty and the beast. A fully paid college tuition for creative writing and English literature. Sending Tim to Mexico.

Nothing.

"Well," Harvey looks at Alfred while downing his 4th glass of whiskey. Jason had just BIT HIM after he tried petting Bruce's hair, " If I made YOU like me, this should be nothing, right?"

Alfred looks at him as if he's a particularly stupid puppy.

"...You like me, right, Alfie?"

" You're breathing, aren't you?"

[reality-detective]

I did a post about this 👇 a little while back 🤔

Revolution Disclosed! The Military Occupation Launched by Trump’s Executive Orders and The Role of the Judge Advocate General: The Legal Backbone of Military Occupation

Disclose: the explosive truth behind Trump’s inauguration—a military occupation that began in 2017 and continues today. Dive deep into the secret power of the Judge Advocate General, military tribunals, and the war for America’s future. The old government is gone—it’s time to wake up!

January 20, 2017, marked not just a transition of power but the beginning of a military occupation. Trump took control of a nation under siege by forces unseen by the average American. This day should have sent shockwaves through the nation but was buried under layers of media manipulation and public ignorance. We are living in a new reality—one too many are blind to, and it’s time to open our eyes to the truth.

Picture this: Trump stands on the Capitol steps, flanked by a Military Intelligence Serviceman and a Judge Advocate General (JAG). This wasn’t a ceremonial show; it was a blatant signal that the military was in control. The Military Intelligence Serviceman represents the shadowy force that pulls the strings, while the JAG stands as the guardian of the new legal order, ready to enforce it with an iron fist.

When Trump declared, “This American carnage stops right here and stops right now,” it was more than rhetoric—it was a direct communication from the Armed Forces, announcing their intent to restore order. The days of political games were over; the military was stepping into the light to bring the nation back from chaos.

The JAG’s presence wasn’t just symbolic; it was a statement of intent. Under Trump, military tribunals would enforce a new order of governance, and those who dared to oppose it would find themselves at the mercy of a system designed to eliminate dissent.

Let’s be clear: the military occupation didn’t start on January 20, 2017; it began months earlier. Trump didn’t just inherit the presidency; he inherited the authority of a War Powers President, operating with the full backing of the military. The country has been under military occupation, while most remain oblivious to the truth.

Under Trump, 11 Emergency Executive Orders (EOs) were enacted, granting extraordinary powers to maintain order in a nation on the brink. The Biden administration, far from reversing these orders, has quietly extended them, ensuring the military’s grip on the nation remains strong.

The current administration is a puppet government, maintaining the illusion of democracy while real power lies with the military. The American people need to wake up; they are living under a military regime. The corporation that once governed this nation has been dissolved, and those who once held power have been brought to justice.

It’s time to stop living in denial. The military is in control, and the sooner Americans accept this, the better equipped they’ll be for the challenges ahead. The media has lied; the government you thought you knew is gone. The future belongs to those willing to see the world as it is, and in this new world, the military reigns supreme. 🤔

[smoshyourheadin]

robin buckley x popular head cheerleader!reader

i’m glad it happened

pairing: robin buckley x cheerleader! f! reader

a/n: I USED Y/N ONCE IN HERE also guys i’m glad we’re finally giving robin some love bc she’s my wifey!! requests open <3

in the bustling halls of hawkins high, where cliques and reputations reigned supreme, robin buckley found herself in a unique position.

as a recent addition to the av club, she had expected to remain on the fringes of the school's social scene.

yet, fate had other plans.

robin's afternoons were typically spent in the av room, tinkering with equipment and occasionally teasing steve when he dropped by. however, during one routine lunch break, she found herself in the midst of an unexpected encounter.

the cafeteria buzzed with energy as students hurriedly grabbed trays and sought out their usual spots. robin, preferring the solace of a quiet corner, settled into her routine. she was halfway through her sandwich when a commotion at the nearby table caught her attention.

there you were, the head cheerleader and a beacon of popularity at hawkins high.

robin couldn't help but notice your effortless grace as you commanded the attention of everyone around you. you were surrounded by the entourage of your friends, laughing and chatting animatedly.

robin observed quietly from afar, admiring your poise, and wondering what it would be like to navigate high school with such confidence. little did she know, fate had a surprise in store.

it started innocently enough.

one day, during a particularly chaotic av club meeting, you wandered into the room. robin's heart skipped a beat as she watched the cheerleader's eyes widen in curiosity at the sight of the tech gadgets and makeshift projects scattered around.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" one of her friends exclaimed in surprise.

"i heard there was something cool happening in here," you replied with a hint of intrigue, gaze lingering on robin.

robin, caught off guard by your presence, managed a casual smile. "just the usual av club stuff. you know, fixing things, breaking things, the usual."

to robin's surprise, you didn't turn away in disinterest. instead, you stepped closer, eyes scanning the cluttered table with genuine curiosity. "that's pretty neat. can i... um, can i watch?"

and so began an unexpected friendship. over the following weeks, you and robin found yourselves spending more time together. you discovered some shared interests beyond their apparent differences - a love for movies, solving puzzles, and david bowie.

your friendship blossomed quietly, away from the prying eyes of your respective social circles. robin learned that you weren’t just a popular cheerleader that you appeared to be; you were also someone who valued depth and authenticity.

as you grew closer, robin found herself falling for you in ways she hadn't anticipated. her heart raced whenever they exchanged knowing glances across the cafeteria or shared stupid inside jokes during av club meetings.

and yet, she hesitated to confess her feelings, fearing rejection or worse - the end of their newfound friendship.

but fate intervened once again during the school's annual halloween party. amidst the pulsating music and dimly lit dance floor, robin mustered up the courage to pull you aside.

"hey, um, can i talk to you for a sec?" robin asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

you turned to her, a curious expression on your face. "sure, robin. what's on your mind?"

robin took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "i... i really enjoy spending time with you. more than i ever expected. you're... you're amazing. and i... i think i might be falling for you."

for a moment, there was silence as you processed robin's confession. then, to robin's astonishment, you smiled - a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up your entire face.

"i think i might be falling for you too, robin," you admitted softly. "i never expected this, but... i'm glad it happened."

and in that moment, amidst the swirl of costumes and laughter, you pulled robin into a gentle kiss, her arms wrapped around your waist softly – two souls who had defied the expectations of their high school roles to find something real.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week. #5

Feb 9-16 2024

The Department of Education released the first draft for a wide ranging student loan forgiveness plan. After Biden's first attempt at student debt forgiveness was struck down at the Supreme Court in 2023, this new plan is an attempt to replace it with something that will hold up in court. The plan hopes to forgive debt for anyone facing "financial hardship" which has been as broadly defined as possible. Another part of the plan hopes to eliminate $10-20,000 in interest from all student loans, as well as a wide ranging public Information push to inform people of other forgiveness programs they qualify for but don't know about.

The House passed 1.2 Billion Dollars to combat human trafficking, including $175 million in housing assistance to human trafficking victims

The Department of Transportation announced $970 Million for improvements at 114 airports across 44 states and 3 territories. They include $40 million to O'Hare International in Chicago to improve passenger experience by reconfiguring TSA and baggage claims, and installing ADA compliant bathrooms(!). The loans will also go to connecting airports to mass transit, boosted sustainability, installing solar and wind power, and expanding service to under served committees around the country.

Medicare & Medicaid released new guidelines to allow people to pay out of pocket prescription drug coats in monthly installments rather than as a lump sum. This together with capping the price of certain drugs and penalties for drug companies that rise prices over inflation is expected to save the public millions on drug coasts and assure people don't pass on a prescription because they can't pay upfront

The EPA announced its adding 150 more communities to its Closing America's Wastewater Access Gap Community Initiative. 2.2 Million Americans do not have basic running water and indoor plumbing. Broken and unreliable wastewater infrastructure exposed many of those to dangerous raw sewage. These Americans live primarily in poor and rural communities, many predominantly Black communities in the south as well as those on tribal lands. The program is aiming to close the wastewater gap and insure all Americans have access to reliable clear water.

The White House announced deferred action for Palestinians in the US. This means any Palestinian living in the United States, no mater their legal status, can not be deported for any reason for the next 18 months.

The Department of Energy announced $60 million in investment into clean geothermal energy. The plan will hopefully lead to a 90% decrease in the coasts of geothermal. DOE estimates hold that geothermal might be able to power the hopes of 65 million Americans by 2050 making it a key step in the Biden administration plan for a carbon-free grid by 2035 and net-zero emissions by 2050.

The EPA launched $83 million to help improve air quality monitoring across America. With updated equipment local agencies will be better able to report on air quality, give more localized reports of bad air quality and the country will be better equipped to start mitigating the problem

The Department of Energy announced $63 million in investments in domestic heat-pump manufacturing. Studies have shown that heat-pumps reduce green house gases by 50% over the most efficient condensing gas boilers, as technology improves this could rise to 75% by 2030. Heat pump water heaters meanwhile are 2 to 3 times as energy efficient as conventional electric water heaters.

HHS awarded $5.1 million to organizations working with LGBTQI+ Youth and their Families. The programs focus on preventing homelessness, fighting depression and suicide, drug use and HIV prevention and treatment, as well as  family counseling and support interventions tailored for LGBTQI+ families.

The House passed two bills in support of the oppressed Uyghur minority in China. The "No Dollars To Uyghur Forced Labor" Act would prohibit the US government from spending any money on projects that source materials from Xinjiang. The Uyghur Policy Act would create a permanent post at the State Department to coordinate policy on Uyghur Issues, much like the special ambassador on antisemitism.

[batbeato]

Sayo could have been the Head, is the thing. Sayo could have become the Head and lived out the fantasy of being Beatrice for herself, could have become the powerful Head of the family with unlimited wealth and power over everyone.

But instead Sayo said,

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't do the job of being the successor, and I can't accept such a big responsibility. I think it would be better for Krauss-sama to inherit that role…"

They couldn't accept that "responsibility": they hadn't been raised to be the successor. They had been told, by everyone around them, that they were inherently inferior to the wealthy, well-educated Ushiromiya family. Though they had the Ushiromiya blood, not only had they stopped their education at the middle school level (without private tutoring) but they also were a bastard child, born of incest, a shameful family secret. Rather than their blood making them noble, it only further marked their inferiority. Their relation to the Ushiromiya blood, rather than uplifting them, made them feel even more inferior and inhuman.

Because it felt so impossible for them to become the Head, because they felt so undeserving and ill-equipped for the role, they didn't take it, and felt it was better to remain as a servant. They had been so thoroughly conditioned by society to see themselves as lower that they could never raise their status in such a way.

Sayo felt that it was possible to raise her status through marriage (to George), but not through herself (becoming the Head). The misogyny and classism they faced prevented them from doing so, just as it prevented them from leaving: they had been raised as a servant, so it was impossible to imagine another life for themself. Even Beatrice, a persona who was not a servant, was still tied to Rokkenjima.

In contrast, Lion is not only Natsuhi's child - a proper heir - but Krauss is skipped over for Lion, unlike Sayo's own refusal. Lion is able to accept the position of Head, having been raised with the family. Lion is supremely competent, having not only the proper disposition, education, and status, but also the self-esteem and pride to accept and handle the position.

Beatrice is not Sayo's ideal: Beatrice is all Sayo feels capable of becoming, the next in the chain of Beatrices, unable to grasp power, unable to fully become real, unable to escape subjugation. Powerful, and yet she is only a ghost, haunting, hurting, harming. Beatrice is Sayo's most indulgent fantasy-self, and she is impossible for Sayo to obtain, because all Sayo believes they should aspire to is Shannon: inoffensive and kind and harmless.

Lion is Sayo's ideal. And while Sayo could have become Head, could have become Lion, at least in name - they deny it. Because they have always been told to be Shannon, not Lion. To be meek and feminine and powerless and lower-class and servile and never to talk back. Never to speak for herself. Never to believe in herself.

Never to be anything more than a confused, manipulated child.