#these are not 'diseases' that you can spread

[1un4z]

Baby Fever

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Pairing: Felix x afab!reader  Genre: smut smut smut. No minors pls (unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink) Summary: A couple days ago, you and your boyfriend Felix went to your friends baby shower. He has definitely caught the disease that is baby fever and has non stop been pestering you about it. Sure it was endearing seeing him pout so much and beg, but this fever doesn't seem like it's going to stop anytime soon. A week of him having a puppy face and whining so cutely during sex. Impossible to resist. How much longer can you resist? Wc: 1k Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!  A/N: This is quite short but I kept thinking about Felix lowkey developing a breeding kink lol (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

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"Please my love.. wouldn't a baby be so cute?" He says nuzzling into the crook of your neck, grinding slowly behind you. 

"I know I know.. Lix, babies are hard work though." He lets out a dramatic sigh, flipping you over on top of him swiftly.

"I know thattttt.. but imagine how cute a mini version of us would be running around." He responds looking up at you with his best puppy dog eyes again playing with your hair gently. You look down at his adorable face and giggle. He continues to pout knowing how eventually you would give into him.

"Pleaseeeeeee?" Felix says smirking, tracing shapes onto your hips as he waits patiently.

...

"Fine." 

"Wa-Wait what??? you're serious?" His mouth drops open and his eyebrows scrunch trying to read your face to analyse if you were teasing him.

You roll your eyes and smile, "Yes." 

He pulls you closer to his body as his eyes soften. 

"Baby.. you know you don't have to if you don't want to, I know I keep bothering you about it." he says stroking your cheek.

"No Felix I really want to, we've been together long enough and you're the man I want to keep beside me forever, you're amazing with kids too so that's a bonus." You respond smiling. 

You feel his cock twitch underneath you, through his sweatpants.

"You're going to look so sexy pregnant" He says mumbling into your ear. You can't help but giggle at his eagerness. 

"Do you want to start now" You whisper back into his ear, kissing his ear slowly moving down to his collarbone. You knew how to tease him, you knew every single thing that made him tick.

This sex felt different. The air was filled with lust and deep desire, you could feel it in the way Felix was breathing. Usually when you had sex it was loving, but the fact that tonight was the night where Felix could breed you relentlessly, it flipped Felix's switch on. You feel Felix slipping his fingers through your folds gently, climbing his way through your underwear. His eyes darken as he slips your nightdress off along with your underwear, quicker than you could blink. 

"I need you so bad.." Felix says groaning into the sheets, making his sweatpants tent.

"I'm going to make you such a good mommy.." he continues on, dipping one finger in already.

You were so wet and ready for him. This relentless begging and whining from him was so cute. Your body felt like it was echoing with need. It felt good to finally give in.

"Spread your legs." His voice was dark and firm. 

"Lix.." 

He climbs on top of you stripping as you touch his soft warm body delicately, making him quietly sigh. Felix spares no time lining up within you, covering himself in your wetness. He teases your entrance looking down at you with a piercing smirk. 

"You're always so wet for me, I'm so lucky to have you y/n..." he says before pushing in slowly. 

You both gasp at the sensation, as your eyes roll back, clinging onto him as he moves fucking your wet pussy, stretching it without holding back. 

"I'm going to fill you up so deep baby." He states biting his lip, dragging his cock teasingly through your walls. 

You whimper every time he thrusts back in, not being able to hold back any moans. Every time he pushes back in you feel yourself clamp down hard, needing him more than ever.

"I need-d you to fill me up.." You respond panting, holding eye contact with him as he you both smile sincerely.

You pull him in closer wrapping your legs around him. This was the first time you could do this without having to unwrap them before he came.

He laughs rutting in you faster and harder, playing with your nipples and leaving marks all over your neck. He moves his hand to your thighs as he kneads them in his hands moaning into the crook of your neck.

“God, you’re so pretty, baby, all mine yeah?” He rolls his hips and your eyes go with it. “Beg for me.”

"Please Felix, I need you to cum deep inside me" You reply whimpering, barely able to speak.

His pace is lethal but loving. Neat but messy. You're both moaning so loudly that it echoes as the headboard vibrates adding to the sounds. Everything is so fuzzy except his intense gaze and throbbing cock moving in and out of you.

"Mine all mine." 

"Fuck- I'm going to cum, you feel too good." He whispers as he whines edging your pussy as he listens to it squelching underneath him. This filthy sound sends him over the edge as he speeds up moving close to you, kissing you deeply, tongue entering without a thought, knowing your body would always welcome it. His moans vibrate through your lips as you feel his warm cum decorate your insides. 

"Ahh- Felix!" You say moaning feeling him twitching so beautifully inside you.

"Fuck.." Felix responds groaning, waiting a second or so before pulling out slowly watching his cum spill out of your hole slightly.

"So hot." He continues as he smirks, grabbing a towel nearby helping clean you up. He lays down next to you kissing your forehead gently, eyes filled with so much admiration. 

"One creampie won't make a baby Lixie." You say laughing, stroking his hair.

"Is that an excuse to get me to keep fucking you baby? don't have to ask me twice.. Bend over immediately, I'm going back in my love." Felix says smirking proudly kissing your body all over. 

[promotional-dvd]

discovery

michael robinavitch x fem!reader apocalypse!au

summary: after a disease wiped out most of the population dr robby helps run a community in the woods. one day when out hunting for supplies with dr abbot he discovers a lonely starving woman.

note: hey guys this is the start of a series! brainstormed with @spookypeachpitt13 💕most chapters following this will probably be much shorter as most of this is backstory and lead up but i promise it will get much more exciting and angsty and most importantly smutty!!! forgot word count but future parts will have them. no warnings for this part except for like gore and disease. i hope you enjoy 🫶

the concept of biological weapons has existed since the dawn of warfare. ancient civilisations didnt have guns and nukes and tanks. they had weapons sure, but if a power hungry leader needed to wipe out a large number of people at once intentionally exposing a population to disease was the most efficent way. but of course through the industrial revolution and never ending conflict, humans crafted war machines, tanks, guns, missiles, nuclear bombs, which all rendered biological weapons obsolete. why infect a population with diease that will take months, years to have the desired effect when you can completely flatten a city instantly with a bomb.

dont be mistaken, despite governments best efforts at preventing the production and use of biological weapons it still happened albiet on a smaller scale and in secrecy, but it still happened. it just was no longer the most efficent method of total destruction. experiments still occurred in every country in some secret government owned lab, seeing what could be made despite the ban on the use of bio weapons in war, you know, just in case.

this is all well and good. until it isnt. humans can build all the fancy technology they desire - labs, airlocks, protective gear - but these creations can never overpower the determination of nature. so when inevitably a specimen from a lab in new mexico made its way into the general population, it was carnage. world ending carnage.

those unfortunate enough to contract the disease (through exchange of bodily fluids) faced a terrible transformation. it was quick. scarily quick. it initially presented like a regular illness. scratchy throat, red eyes, running nose. then the sores came. sores all over the patients body, their skin practically sloughing off leaving them looking burn victims, they totter around screaming in agony. typically around 24 hours after the sores present the disease makes it to the brain. it appears as though a switch is flipped, their aimless wandering and yelling stops abruptly. they stand eerily still for hours, frozen, silent. until a crack, their jaw readjusting and slowly each other body part follows, twitching back to life in a menacing sporadic jerk. they may regain movement but they never regain control. they run rabid through the streets, teeth gnashing and letting out haunting screams with every step, trying to get their hands on any one uninfected.

as expected, it spread quickly. turns out a super virus genetically mutated to be as powerful as possible is rather difficult to contain. all attempts to prevent the spread failed comically. it was soon realised the infected were easily killed with a gunshot to the head, but the military could only do so much against the spread. society collapsed within 2 weeks. those who could afford such luxuries shut themselves away in reinforced underground bunkers leaving the rest of the american population to fight or die. most died. some fought. they live in small communities, few and far between, but nonetheless determined to survive.

———4 years later———

the sun crawled higher in the sky casting a welcome glow across the small settlement nestled in amongst the forest. it peeked through the gaps in the foliage speckling light across the houses within. remnants of the small town still stood ,though old and weathered, making a decent home for a small community. remnants of what was are clear. supermarkets adorned with signs that used to light up and attract the attention of passer-by’s now sit barren and lifeless having had all use ransacked from it years ago. the animals stir in their pens, carefully stretching and shaking the sleep from their bodies and padding over to their troughs meandering impatiently for their breakfast. the community was well developed compared to others as it had the advantage of being based in a town, unlike most who built from the ground up in the dense woods.

robby stirs in his bed. the tattered curtains not doing much to keep the beams of sunlight from cascading over his bedroom. he lets out a deep grunt scrunching his face and attempting to bury it further into the pillow. deep sleep was few and far between for the rugged man so any disruption was unwelcome (which was an understatement). once finally accepting that sleep could not beat the sun, he rolled over and rubbed his eyes running a calloused hand down his face. he eyed the water stains on the ceiling trying to will his aching body to get up and start the day.

he doesn’t need to look at his crude excuse for a schedule to know that he’s out of camp today. its his turn to go on a “raid.” raid being an entirely unfit word for the reality as there was nothing and nowhere to raid, there hadn’t been for going on a year now. but you cant tell the people that because they’ll become scared and therefore unproductive which isn’t good for anyone. so every other day a pair from the camp venture out into the dense forest, sometimes breaking into an old urban era which - as expected - has nothing to offer, and search high and low for anything, anything, that could be of use to their communities survival.

the only saving grace is that his partner for raids is jack. they’d been through thick and thin together working at the PTMC, neither of them could have expected that they would end up here but they were glad they had each other as well as dana and a few others from the hospital at this camp. the benefit of having medical professionals in your group during the end of the world cannot be stated enough. sure some might see them as selfish, hogging them all, but they were a family and they need each other.

once robby finally pulled himself free of the enticing feel of his bed he trudged to his bathroom to shower, brush his teeth and get dressed. he had it down to an art, wasting no time and was out of the door in 25 minutes, geared up for his trek out. the commune was still quiet at this time, the only other people awake were jack and the people guarding the gates.

he made it to the stables, his back aching the entire time. hed have to give up going on raids sometime soon. he’s getting old and hes not in shape quite like jack - hes never been in shape like jack - he thinks to himself. hes only still going on them to give him a sense of purpose, without them hed feel like a waste, a let down to the community even if they returned with nothing people were still grateful for their bravery.

a ball of hay thrown at his face cuts him from his thoughts where he is greeted with a shit eating grin on jacks face.

“you with me cowboy? look like your in another universe.” jack quips, preparing his horse for their outing.

robby chuckles offering a feeble, “yeah… yeah i’m here brother.”

its not unusual for robby to be lost in his thoughts, hell who can blame him for wanting to get away from the harsh reality they live in now. still, jacks face is laced with concern. its not new, jack has been familiar with the absent look on his face since they first met at PTMC but it seems to be taking root deeper in the fractured mans soul.

robby mounts his horse, a dark chestnut coloured mare called stevie, ruffling her mane as he gets comfortable in her saddle. he looks over to jack on his horse ozzy and heads off towards the communities gates, jack following behind. the gates creak as they are pulled open by the guards who offer the doctors a small appreciative head nod, a silent wish of luck and safety as they watch them disappear into the woods.

———————

the run had gone as usual.

nothing useful found. it served better as a time for them to catch up -not there was much to catch up on. the pair has ventured further than previous days however to distracted by their mindless chat to notice and turn back.

“listen, all im saying mikey is that under the right circumstances i could beat a gorilla in a fight,” jack says with conviction looking over to robby, clearly exhausted with the grey mans yapping. “its all about technique brother. gotta catch him off guard you know.”

“im not dignifying this with a response. please for the love of god brother shut up.” he says with light tone and a chuckle, clearly teasing jack.

“what come on! honestly give me som-“

jack cuts his sentence off abruptly as he follows robbys eye line.

a cabin.

a new cabin.

nestled just in the distance, only visible through a small gap in the foliage.

well not new, the place is basically collapsing in on itself, but new to them. it dawns on robby how far out they have travelled to have found new structures. they seem to communicate through their eyes as they begin to dismount their horses, checking they have all the equipment necessary to protect themselves. they tie their horses to tree just out of the way of the cabin. jack draws his gun and walks silently. his time in the military never leaving him. robby follows cautiously.

“ill go ‘round the back. stay here.” jack commands.

he shuffles around the house and makes it back quickly. its not a huge place. enough for two or three people to live comfortably. he peeks through windows when he gets the chance though it doesn’t offer much insight as each one is caked in dirt.

“nothin’. cant see inside. windows are fucking filthy, probably no one living here.”

robby nods slowly processing the information. “well theres no time like the present. come on.”

the taller man takes the lead now wielding his machette -hed never been good with guns- and approaches the rotting door louder than he probably should. jack gives him a stare which screams really dude? robby shrugs.

“you said theres no one here.”

“i said probably.”

“whatever.”

a high pitched squeal emits from the door as robby pushes it open. he squeezes through the gap hes made as the debris on the floor prevents anymore space from being made. green faded wallpaper peels and hangs from the walls littering the wooden floor along with the chipped paint from the door frames. theres broken glass everywhere from the old picture frames strewn around the hallway.

robby peeks into the first room. the living room. it feels ridiculous to call it that now as it looked the picture of death. some floral arm chairs sit in the middle of the room, the upholstery rotten and carrying a disgusting odor. jack goes to inspect the room opposite leaving robby on his own.

he enters the damp room and fully takes it in, coughing as he inhales the thick layer of dust he disturbed. the room is just as destroyed as the hallways but he still takes time to search for anything useful. he makes his way around, opening draws and flipping up old papers. nothing.

he goes to approach a cupboard in the corner. or was it a wardrobe? robby doesnt know and he doesnt really care, though he has been hoping for some new clothes to replace the ratty attire he wears now. as he goes to open the brown varnished door he hears a noise. from behind the door. he raises his machette and steps back slightly not knowing what to expect. an infected? a rabid animal? a racoon that wants to tear his face off? none of those sound particularly enjoyable. he takes a deep breath and grasps the ornate handle, mentally counting down.

3.

2.

1.

he rips the door open ready to slaughter whatever comes his way adrenaline pumping through his veins. he expects something running at him or pouncing on him, only, nothing happens. the only change is he can now hear the noise more clearly. sniffiling? he snaps out of his murderous haze and flicks his eyes down to see a figure. not someone infected.

you.

[houserautha]

Without a Prayer

Summary: You're sent to Giedi Prime to spread the Word. You're not sure what to expect, especially when the brutal Na-Baron takes an interest in you.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: This is unfinished, and I’m not sure if it will get finished, but I was looking through my drafts and I was proud of my writing in this one!

A/N: Inspired by Lady Gaga’s Disease, which I listened to an obscene amount of times while writing this, and this post

Paradise on my right, Hell on my left, and the Angel of Death behind. — excerpt from the Accumulated Book, page 791

You’ve had days to steel yourself for Giedi Prime.

Tucked away in your small quarters, you poured over every filmbook and inscription that your covenant owned about the planet. When they sent you off, you assured them that you knew what you were getting into. “After all,” you told them, “it’s the darkest places that need the most light.”

You expected the barren wastelands, which you observe from the descending cruiseliner, broken apart only by the sprawling industrial plants. But it’s only once you’ve landed, once you’ve disembarked into the oppressive heat, that you realize all of your studying left out one crucial detail — there is no sound on Giedi Prime.

You stand frozen on the ramp while you process this in a series of disjointed thoughts. Giedi Prime is, by all means, an inhospitable planet. There is no vegetation except for the extremely profitable pilingitam tree, which is not found here, in the courtyard of the Harkonnen stronghold. Thusly, there is no rustle of leaves or grass. No animals. No hum of insects. And the droning sound that you initially mistake as the blood pounding in your ears proves to be the dark sun baking the dry, cracked ground.

“Move,” the Harkonnen attendant barks from behind you. Their language, brusque and unnatural, frightens you into motion, scurrying down the ramp.

Sweat already pools under the collar of your habit, rolls down your neck beneath your wimple. You take a few steps before the attendants sweep by, leading the procession to meet the group of soldiers waiting for you a few feet away. Beyond them, the Harkonnen stronghold looms. It projects impossibly high into the sky, a display of wealth and power, crafted from obsidian with threads of lighter grey throughout. It’s a marvelous spectacle. Before you can properly admire it, however, you’ve reached the soldiers, who are all regarding you rather keenly.

You greet them with a small smile.

“Welcome to Giedi Prime,” one of the soldiers says, then as an afterthought, “Sister.”

When you received the news that you would be performing missionary work on Giedi Prime, you were shocked to discover that it included taking residency at the Harkonnen stronghold. No one had ever been given permission to come here with the sole purpose of spreading the Word, so you didn’t know what to expect.

“We’ve been given strict instructions to escort you to meet with the Baron.”

“Very well,” you reply. You suspected as much. After all, he was the one overseeing this enterprise. Curiously, you follow the soldiers into the stronghold, relieved to find it conditioned with air. The interior was sparsely furnished, the only constant being the braziers along the walls emitting a faint, flickering glow.

You stride behind them, hands in the pockets of your habit and smoothing your thumb over the beads of your rosary. It brought comfort to you in times of turmoil. Especially now, when your fear lingered as dually as the sweat cooling on your skin; with no sense of where you were going, you would’ve believed they were marching you to the dungeons instead of a place of importance.

“What is he doing here?”

You snap to attention. The soldier who spoke flanks you to the right, shifting his weight.

One of the other soldiers hisses in reply, “I thought he was supposed to be Off Planet.”

From your position encircled by the soldiers you can’t see who they’re talking about, but the tension is palpable. You muddle through your own fear to make sense of theirs, confused about who could possibly frighten these formidable men.

“Where are you going?” A deep, rasping voice calls out, steeped with authority.

“We are under orders by the Baron to deliver this guest to the throne room.”

“A guest, you say?”

Between the bodies of the soldiers, you catch a quick glimpse of a man but nothing more. “Yes, na-Baron,” the same soldier says.

“Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

In way of reply, the soldiers at your front step to the side, exposing you to this man. The na-Baron.

Feyd-Rautha.

He’s more handsome than you imagined, which arrests most of your focus. He’s bare as any other Giedi Prime native but possessing of a cruelly elegant nature, with dark eyes and plush lips. A strong jaw is framed by a fitted, high-collared jacket. The trousers he wears boasts reinforced panels along his knees and muscular thighs before tapering into matte black boots.

Feyd-Rautha glowers at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally he declares, “I’ll escort her the rest of the way.”

“na-Baron, sir, we were given strict —”

“I don’t care.” Feyd-Rautha’s penetrating gaze has yet to stray from your face. “Leave us.”

When the soldiers hesitate, a muscle jumps under his eye, almost unnoticeable, and in the span of a single heartbeat he’s unsheathed a blade and posed it under the chin of the closest one. “You question my authority.”

A statement. Not a question.

“Never, na-Baron,” the soldier chokes out.

“Prove it.” Feyd-Rautha removes the weapon, holding it out at his waist instead. “Run yourself through on my blade.”

A strangled sound escapes you. “What? No —”

You’re helpless to intervene when the soldier forcefully steps forward, the blade breaking through his armor and into his stomach with a sickening squelch. The coppery smell of blood assaults your senses. You watch as the soldier staggers, reaching out to his na-Baron for support, who in turn withdraws the blade — you think, in a disconnected way, that it’s over — and then plunges the blade back in again.

In. Out. In. Out.

Horror swallows you and you have nowhere to go as the soldiers maintain their tight formation. You cry at them to move please but they refuse to budge, undoubtedly in an effort not to join their fallen comrade. When it dawns on you that you’re trapped, you spin around, eyes wide.

Feyd-Rautha contemplates the bloody blade, glinting in the light of the braziers, then asks, “Does anyone else wish to prove their loyalty?”

“N-No, na-Baron.” The soldiers genuflect, a gesture unbefitting of this man — this monster — and all but scurry away, leaving you alone and completely vulnerable.

Your entire form trembles.

Feyd-Rautha, with nowhere else to direct his attention now, affixes you with a glare.

“State your name and business.”

You breathe out your name. “I-I’m a missionary.”

“A missionary. How curious.” Feyd-Rautha moves closer. You hold yourself as still as you can, willing yourself not to glance at the blade.

“You killed him,” you whisper. You can’t think to say anything else.

“I did.”

“But why? He wasn’t —”

“Does your god not challenge you? Ask for you to demonstrate your loyalty through hardships? Do you not swear fealty to him every day with your prayers and your mass?”

You swallow, summoning your courage. “You’re going to liken yourself to God?”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch upwards the slightest amount, amused, and a kernel of anger forms inside you at the sight.

“He would never do such a thing,” you continue, invigorated, “He is a kind and merciful God.”

“Then perhaps that is why he must send young women out to spread the word of his greatness,” he rasps, “while everyone knows who I am.”

You look away, ashamed of the powerful hatred that you have for him. You hate that he’s right. More people tremble before the wrath of Feyd-Rautha than worship at God’s feet. The Father of your childhood congregation often said that love was greater than fear, but was that true?

Love embraced you, comforted you. It was a warm, nurturing presence, lulling you to sleep. But fear was a blade at your throat, alerting the senses. You could not be complacent in its care.

“Come with me,” Feyd-Rautha says.

“Are you taking me to see the Baron?”

“No.”

“I must make an audience with him.” You cling to this like a drowning man to a lifesaver.

“I’ll save you the displeasure.” Feyd-Rautha wipes his blade on his pants before sheathing it. “My uncle wishes to appeal to the Emperor. He’s going to…entertain you as long as it takes to appear compliant to his whims.”

In your pocket, you clutch your rosary. “I would like to hear that from his own mouth.”

“Trust me. You don’t.” Feyd-Rautha pauses as if to say more but ultimately does not, rolling his tongue in his cheek. He sighs. “I must confess, my present company leaves me…uninspired. But you intrigue me. This place hardly fosters real discourse, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, well —”

“Join me in my quarters.”

“Your quarters?” You stare at him in surprise.

“It offers the privacy and refinement such a conversation deserves.” The intensity in which he regards you is equally unnerving and flattering.

When has anyone taken an interest in you, beyond the necessary?

Besides, it’s not like you can decline this man. You wouldn’t want to meet the end of his blade, too. And is also your host, in a way, so you simply dip your chin in acquiesce.

Feyd-Rautha, never one to be denied, turns like he expects your subservience. This fans your anger, but you quickly, mentally recite a prayer, searching for guidance. You were here to convert the people of Giedi Prime, weren’t you? Even if it was just a scheme like Feyd-Rautha said, you could do good work. Help people. Though, as you fixed your gaze on the na-Baron’s shoulders, staying a step behind him, you wondered if some people simply could not be helped.

It does not evade you that this man had just killed one of his own soldiers, and was now going about his business as if it never happened. You linger in the doorway of his quarters as he removes his jacket and folds it carefully over a settee. A mesh undershirt beneath reveals the sharp contours of his body and once again you’re forced to look away, should the heat in your cheeks betray you.

Feyd-Rautha motions for you to join him. The antechamber hosts a sunken inner circle with plush couches, which you select purely based on distance from the na-Baron, who has ambled leisurely to a set of floor-to-ceiling windows, his back turned to you.

“What do you hope to achieve here, Sister?”

The question surprises you. “I-I hope to bring salvation.”

“I must admit, the notion of bringing salvation to Giedi Prime seems almost comical.” He pivots slightly, sunlight limning his face. “What do you think it is these people lack? Faith, purpose?”

“They lack hope, na-Baron. Faith offers the downtrodden a light in the darkness, a way to endure the suffering that surrounds them.” The words are strangely reminiscent of what you said only this morning.

“My people thrive on ambition, Sister, not hope. But you speak as if you know their suffering intimately. Tell me, what does your faith teach about the flesh — about living?”

“The flesh is but a vessel for the soul,” you recite, “though I suspect you already knew that. To indulge it too greatly is to invite ruin. True fulfillment comes from rising above worldly desires, finding peace in service to others and to God.”

The na-Baron turns fully to face you. He prowls closer, dark eyes glinting. “Isn’t that denial? To deny the flesh, to reject the gifts of sensation and pleasure, is that not to deny the Creator’s handiwork itself? Are we not meant to embrace what we are given?”

“Pleasures of the flesh are fleeting, na-Baron, distractions from the path of righteousness. To fall victim to them is to stray from God’s will.”

The answer falls from your lips with ease, like petals from a flower. But your chest tightens with each of his questions — have you not wondered these things yourself, late at night? There’s no way that Feyd-Rautha could possibly know this about you, but he’s looking at you like he can see every thought stripped bare, like the proof of your doubt is imprinted on your forehead.

Feyd-Rautha halts just inches away, having joined you in the sunken level of the antechamber. His presence eclipses all else, voice rolling down your spine like an ill-fated caress. “How, then, can you claim to know life? Tell me, Sister, have you ever felt something so deeply it consumes you? Have you ever surrendered, if only for a moment, to something greater than your will?”

“I have surrendered my life to God, na-Baron. There is no greater fulfillment than that,” you reply, your voice strong but hands trembling at your sides. You clutch them.

“A convenient answer,” he muses. “You’ve lived by denial, which is not the same as transcendence. How can you claim to…save…my people if you don’t understand the depth of their desires? Their need to feel alive?”

“I seek to show them a path beyond their transgressions. I have no need to understand their indulgences to do so.”

“Hm.” Feyd-Rautha studies you. Up close, the softness of his mouth is infuriatingly inviting, the obvious strength in each movement calling to your body in a way that you refuse to acknowledge. He does not touch you, but your skin burns as if he has. “You’re afraid. Afraid that if you allowed yourself to feel it, to experience it, you’d discover how much you’re missing.“

“I came here to spread God’s word, nothing more,” you tell him. Unable to stand being so close to him, you turn away. His presence at your back is both daunting and exhilarating.

“Perhaps you’ve come here, Sister — not to save, but to be tempted.”

Sunlight slips through the small window and slants across the floor over the small altar that you’ve erected. It’s a private storage room that your hosts generously have let you carry out your morning and evening rituals in, kneeling on the hard ground and saying your prayers.

You’re not surprised when the door swings open in the middle of meditation a few days after your arrival, preceded by the thud of deliberate footsteps. “You spend a lot of time on your knees for someone who has never known pleasure,” the na-Baron says in way of greeting.

“I see you’re still concerned about my experience,” you reply. The amount of time you’ve had alone has given you ample opportunity to mull over your discord with Feyd-Rautha, and how you would proceed next. Strangely, you were looking forward to this interaction.

Feyd-Rautha steps into your view. He’s traded his jacket and mesh undershirt for a long, asymmetrical tunic; still the same piercing, menacing gaze. Today, however, you accept it gladly, chin thrust in the air.

“I intend to take you up on your…hospitality.”

A ripple of surprise crosses his features, gone before you can make anything out of it. “Do you?”

“You say that I cannot hope to save your people unless I understand their…ambitions.” You didn’t think you could say desires in front of him without stumbling over your words.

“Correct.”

“Then you will show me these indulgences.”

His brow quirks slightly. “I will?”

“And,” you add, ignoring his amused tone, “in return I will share with you the teachings of the Accumulated Book.”

Feyd-Rautha appears to consider this. He crouches down to your eye level, searching your face. The gesture is commanding and subservient all at once. Vulnerable, lowering to your level. But the na-Baron is so effortlessly powerful that he cannot completely divorce himself from it.

“Okay,” he rasps.

“Okay?”

“Did you expect an argument?”

“Well, you’re so fond of having them.”

“That,” he says, “was friendly discord. Not an argument.” Feyd-Rautha’s lips curl up. “You’ll know if we’re having an argument.”

You quickly make the sign of the cross, then rise to your feet, paralleling your former stance with the na-Baron. You can’t help but think he looks delighted at the shift and, heart fluttering, shove the observation aside. “Shall we?”

“You’re going to let me choose first?” He asks. “I thought perhaps we could do more work on our knees.”

“Morning ritual is over,” you say, lifting a shoulder like that explains it.

In reality, you had yet to decide what you actually wanted to teach Feyd-Rautha who, at least in your brief interactions, seemed familiar with the Orange Catholic Bible. You convinced yourself that if he started this transaction then you would find something equally as telling as his.

“Fine. Come along.”

[fwoosheye]

I got all my doses last year, can highly recommend getting it. There are so many more tics now than it used to be. For pet owners, I would also recommend dosing your pet with some type of anti-tic meds. We use one where you drop a liquid on the skin between the shoulder blades — it doesn't stop the tics from biting unfortunately, but it does kill the tics meaning they won't spread. There are also chew-pills which functions similarly. A few years ago our vet prescribed those to our dogs and they worked really well and lasted longer than the liquid. In the end they ended up priced roughly the same, but the liquid version didn't need prescription. I think there are prescription-free pills too now but I don't know how they are in comparison.

Anyway TBE is an awful disease and it has no cure so please do yourself a favour and get the shots if you haven't. Some people get better, but many unfortunately don't. I know shots can be scary, but if you have to pick between pest or cholera you ought to pick cholera (because that can be treated). It's the same thing here: If you have to pick between TBE or the vaccine you're better off picking the vaccine. Bring a friend of your have to. Support each other. Move your arm around every now and then in big motions after the shot to mitigate soreness (personally I've never been sore after getting a vaccine since I started doing that, but I'm just one person). Like all vaccines it's not a 100% protection, but it's way way better than nothing and if you are among the unlucky few who still catch it (like OP's mom) you're much more likely to have milder symptoms.

My mom has tick-borne encephalitis. She's a shell of herself at the moment.

This is a reminder that there is a vaccine (that she did get and still she's been sleeping about 18 hours a day for a week so far) and you should definitely get it if you live anywhere that's highlighted in red on this map and you go outside and/or have pets that go outside, because this virus is truly terrifying, trust me.

Source : Im, J. H., Baek, J. H., Durey, A., Kwon, H. Y., Chung, M. H., & Lee, J. S. (2020). Geographic distribution of Tick-borne encephalitis virus complex. Journal of vector borne diseases, 57(1), 14–22.

[hegodamask]

"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear."

ANDOR 2022 - 2025

[thedistributir]

To all of you who cant access the BoB uh

I know we all shaking violently rn so uh let me uh help you

[askshivanulegacy]

[ARCANE SPOILERS]

I'm waffling with whether I agree with this overall post. 😂

Headcanons are fine. They don't "damage" anything, not even when it's a stereotype. They don't erase anything. They're headcanons and cannot hurt anyone - not even if someone changes them in response to events in the show. After all, people change their orientations in real life. Yes, it might point toward a bias that it's probably good to examine. But it's entirely possible that original Jinx is aro and AU Jinx is not. Sexuality is not a necessary constant across universes or even a necessary marker of core character identity (which is not something we can measure so who the heck knows). We don't know that that interpretation isn't the correct canon. Also, maybe she's 100% straight the entire time! Or maybe she's lesbian and the other guy is trans and never said (like elsewhere in the show). No proof either way, Jinx is just so busy terrorizing people. 😂

As for Viktor: we have no actual proof he's NOT aro, either. Even up to the very end of the show, you can read this relationship as platonic. You can read it as romantic. You can read it as aro. You can read it as sexual. You can read it as asexual. The verdict is ENTIRELY in the viewer's hands. It's my decision as much as yours. There isn't enough canon evidence to confirm one way or the other. No, not even if it's "important" to be queer. If that relationship is platonic to someone, then it's platonic, and that's what's more important. If someone's viewing experience is so far in one direction that they didn't consider anything else, all it means is that, wow, they were super invested. Good for them! It doesn't "say a lot about someone." It says nothing.

There's supposedly a trans character in the show, but we're given no canon evidence for that. Most people will never know it. With no canon evidence, you get to have whatever interpretation you want and it's just as "real" and "important" and "powerful" as any other interpretation. That's the beauty of an ambiguous storyline, and also the frustration (depending on your personal point of view).

At the same time, definitely, people need to know when their interpretation is just a headcanon versus confirmed canon. Too many people act like headcanons are canon, or they act like an obvious interpretation is "weird" when really it's their own behavior that's weird. You can "deny" an interpretation in that you simply do not choose to view something that way, but you still have to acknowledge that other interpretations are possible. You also can't ignore the reality of canon.

Clearly these above posts are all for a very specific interpretation, which is super important to them. And that's fine. It's still just one headcanon, it's not a default, and importance is only in the eye of the beholder. Any other headcanon is just as valid and important.

And nothing is canon unless it's explicitly shown.

Or vice versa, everything is canon until proven otherwise. :)

Hot take and not to be a killjoy or the shipping police but people treating Viktor or Jinx's aroace headcanons as if they were canon is not the revolutionary take people think it is.

Headcanons are always all right but we have to acknowledge that they are somehow damaging when they apply to stereotypes. It might not be the case for everyone but most of the time people unconsciously assume that disability/mental illness=asexuality. These headcanons erase the freedom of attraction from people who are already seen as unable to have sexual/romantic experiences/desires, when it's completely untrue and harmful.

You can headcanon Viktor and Jinx as aroace, but I have seen people changing their minds once Viktor is no longer disabled (s2 with all of his other forms) and Jinx is no longer as mentally ill (alternate universe Powder). And it speaks wonders of how people see these characters.

"I never thought about Jinx being able to feel romantic/sexual attraction until s2!" To believe she's actually only capable of that when she's not "damaged" is incredibly disturbing. Especially since Jinx has always had a bit of a flirty personality too.

"I've always seen Viktor as asexual, I don't know why!" That's fine. You can headcanon him as ace. But I believe there is a reason behind it, most of the time, if for some inexplicable reason the "vibes" of the disabled character are making you think he's ace.

I say all of this being aroaspec myself, by the way. Headcanon all you want but going to people's posts commenting how "it's weird for you that they have romantic/sexual plots when they're clearly aroace" is not a win at all. It's a headcanon, after all, and it should be treated as such, and that's fine. But it also is damaging to spread stereotypes like these.

Of course the disabled character is asexual. Of course the mentally ill character is aromantic. It's not as revolutionary as you might think, tbh.

Fandom is not activism and it's all right to have any headcanons you want BUT some of them are filled with damaging stuff and perhaps we should look into ourselves more before treating these assumptions as something canon.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[collgeruledzebra]

very niche pet peeve i have is seeing people point to prion disease as a major risk of cannibalism because it's like saying you shouldn't go swimming in lakes specifically because of brain eating amoeba when a) BEA is really rare, and b) there are plenty of other risks to swimming in lakes that are (also uncommon, but still) way more likely than BEA. prions are weird for sure and a nasty way to go but they're not some kind of fairytale curse like Eat Ye Not The Flesh Of Thine Fellow Man Lest Ye Perish Of Swiss Cheese Brain, only meat from an animal that's already got prions will give you prions because that's how an infectious disease works

[robotsafari]

re:kingdom hearts: database recovered in a nutshell (sound on pls)

[goomyloid]

sorry for reblogging literally everything you own, it's very good, also im a kriselle fan now bcos of you

TY FOR YOUR SUPPORT 🙏🙏🙏 another one bites the dust (“people converted to liking kriselle because of goomy art and writing” counter goes up yet again.) this was actually my master plan all along. everyone must be plagued with the same visions as i

[nedlittle]

*yes i know that these diseases are not gone and are still common in many parts of the world. this is a thought experiment about the 19th century

[chaoswithcausation]

Do not kiss a hundred boys in bars. 1 in 5 adults worldwide have herpes.

[spookitordukeit]

In your fic tbasawas was there anything specific that inspired you to do your specific stories and or ships?

Yes and no—

For the story itself:

Originally, I only had concepts for Aeiisy, a dark fic with a skeleton reader who is constantly having a Bad Time. But, as with most of my ideas, it got split into two different paths. (This is how I end up with most of my fic ideas btw) You might see a few similarities, or even direct reflections between a few of my works, and that’s because they are all directly or indirectly formed from a few of the same ideas, split into separate paths.

Like an au I guess???

Tbasawas was made as a direct counter to Aeiisy, so I wouldn’t pass away from angst and could have something sweet a fluffy to write whenever I got burnt out. (Ignoring the amount of angst that ended up in Tbasawas anyway… and the fluff that got put into Aeiisy…. Don’t look at me!!)

So Tbasawas was inspired by Aeiisy, and Aeiisy was inspired by the need for a skele reader, Monster Frisk, and an apocalypse fic. Not sure how any of that connects, but that’s how it went down.

Tbasawas is a soft apocalypse, if that’s even a thing. Their changes aren’t gory and the world isn’t riddled with war and violence. Just people treated like lost puppies in a cozy adoption center waiting for their ‘forever home’. For the most part.

I take a lot of inspiration directly from animal adoption processes. The whole shebang. Paperwork, wait time, vetting, inspections, background checks, introductions, acclimation— Hell, even the Assigned Nurse can be compared to a Foster. The Mimic Monitors are essentially juiced up microchips.

I’m pretty sure I even used a template for the adoption of a dog from a serious breeder for the letter that Abbee gives Nerma to explain to process. And the email Edge receives  in chapter one.

There’s a lot of themes in Tbasawas going on. Another one is the grieving process, as hinted at in the title of the first chapter. Arc one: Shock.

I’m using this version of the grieving process in particular:

I’m not sure how strictly I’ll follow it, but it’s definitely there in the background, at the very least.

As for inspiration for the relationships:

It’s all kinda based around these themes and how I think the characters would be changed by them.

I’ve changed these characters a lot. Maybe not much physically for most,(that you can see.. wink wonk) but I’ve taken a lot of liberty with their stories and backgrounds. And in the tags for Tbasawas, this universe is listed under post neutral route… not pacifist. Do with that information what you will.

Based on these changes, I think about how they might act. What makes the most sense. What they feel, what kind of person would they feel most comfortable around and what kind would they hate? Do they have insecurities? Are there any fears that they might be judged? Would that stop them from getting close to specific skeletons in the pack? *cough* Sparrow *cough*

Are they jealous or possessive? Holding on to the one good thing that’s happened to them and waiting for the other show to drop?? Even if it hinders the others ability to seek out relationships with others of the pack??? *cough* Red *cough*

I kinda just zone out and smash dolls together in my mind until I get something I like. Not all that cool of a process, but it’s what works for me.

Speaking of! Let’s use Red and Sparrow as an example!!!

*grabs my mental dolls of Red and Sparrow in my hands and smacks them together*

*loud incorrect buzzer sound*

Yep. Knew that would happen. See— Red is chill around the pack, but there’s not a lot of… feelings??? He has this disconnect inside him, whether from his LV, his trauma, or if that’s simply just how he handles his emotions, I’m not sure.

There’s this wall that he has up. He cares for the pack, and for his brother, of course he does! He’d kill for them. That was never in question. He’s just… distant. The only one who can really, really get close is Comet. And that’s mainly because they’re so similar it hurts. They’re in the same, sinking boat. Drifting out in the middle of the ocean as they keep hammering in nails in hopes they won’t drown.

Red is heavily complex, and no one knows just how to solve him and tell him to stop making so many damn holes in his boat before it’s unrepairable.

He’s smoke and mirrors with knives that will cut you if you take a wrong step.

Sparrow, is also withdrawn. But for very different reasons.

He’s not shy, per say— but he’s very conscious how he looks and how he’s perceived. He knows that he’s not as handsome as he once was (lies), he knows that he looks frightening, even to other Monsters.

His self esteem is very low, it’s been getting better thanks to his pack, but it’s still not great. He hides a lot of things about himself, whether out of shame or for the perceived benefit of the other person is a 50/50 at any given moment.

His status as a sigma doesn’t help. There are already enough stigmas about people like him and Star, if Sparrow can’t do what’s expected of him— if he falls into stereotypes—

…he doesn’t like to think about it.

He’s not as able bodied anymore, and his senses are both dulled and heightened to uncomfortable degrees. He needs to be able to trust the people around him. He needs to know that they won’t think lower of him for his weakness. He needs to know that he can depend on them and they won’t just up and leave.

Red has given no indication that he is capable of providing any of those assurances. He has in fact proven quite the opposite.

At this point in time, Red and Sparrow could never be in a relationship. Sparrow would likely end up cut on Red’s knives and shattered glass, and Red would keep hammering more fucking nails into his boat. Unaware that it’s the very thing that keeps brining in more water.

Augh. So long story short: insanity.

The idea for the story popped in my head and then I stared at characters until the imploded in my brain like a super nova and then they kept forming fun new galaxies for me to explore.

I guess it’s my characters that give me inspiration. I just wanna slap my dolls together and see wtf happens, I have no idea where I’m going and I’m equally as surprised as you are at every chapter🗿🗿🗿

I just wanna see Edge be soft and have his little found family, and to feel like he’s allowed to exist in the world despite his sins.

I wanna see Grim be an absolute menace and Get Bitches, because he loves his idiots and just wants to live life at his laziest.

I wanna see Bear put a ring on as many hoes as he likes and get to be happy and smug and purr as he crushes them (lovingly) in his nest.

I wanna see Stretch be soft and fuss about his mates and then punish them for their stupidity with various pranks.

I wanna see Star huff and lovingly bully his mates into being kind to them selves, forcing them to take it easy or face the wrath of Self Care days.

I wanna see Comet get yoinked out of his tiny shell and actually mean it when he smiles his little bastard smiles, and to be able to reach out and form other relationships within the pack.

I wanna see Black get his ass Wooed and his icy rain bloom into spring showers because he feels loved and able to be soft and love in turn.

I wanna see Blue live his life to the fullest and prioritize his own feelings sometimes and remember that it’s okay to want things.

I wanna see Sparrow have each and every one of his boo boos kissed and told that he’s handsome and I want him to accept it and be confident.

And I wanna see Red get a happy ending. I want to see his sharp edges, both the ones facing inside and out, to get smoothed out. I wanna see this bastard get soft and mushy. I’m gonna turn his ass into a grumpy marshmallow just you wait.

And of course, I want to see Nerma be the spark that gets this thing moving.

I’m just a simp…. That is all 😔

[schmeecosis]

Alright well have it confirmed that someone's been using my fucking razor.

The truck is here. It's been here since yesterday

Pack it up and get the Fuck Out

[affixjoy]

A lot of Covid feelings today. But the main thought I’m having today is that I hope the kids never forgive us. I hope when they grow up and realize how much their generation has been fucked over by chronic illness caused by Covid they never forgive the people who decided it was okay to infect them over and over again. I hope all the people who I talk to about it and seem to understand but then go back to taking no steps to stop the spread have to sit with the guilt in their stomachs forever. They’ll throw up their hands and say they didn’t know but I’ve been here screaming about it at the top of my lungs for years, along with a lot of other people.

I hope my son looks at the pictures of us in masks here in 2024 and knows I tried so hard to protect him. If we make it another two weeks he’ll have avoided Covid the first 3 years of his life, which shouldn’t be huge but IS huge when almost every other kid we know has had it multiple times.

It doesn’t have to be this fucking hard guys. If more people just gave a fuck about not spreading airborne illness things would be so much easier. I’m not even that strict with precautions! I’m not advocating for lockdowns! I just want more people to mask, I want masks and tests to be free, I want people who are sick to have paid sick leave, I want money to be put into upgrading the air systems in public spaces. This all feels very minimal and reasonable and yet somehow it’s a fringe position???

Today is a bad day and I’m feeling very angry. It didn’t have to be this way.