#Cost and Resource Intensive

[tearlessrain]

kind of wild how much fiction still treats torture as something that objectively works when every study has shown that it does not work at all and is possibly the least effective way to get correct information

[joy-haver]

Something I’ve noticed is that leftist movements tend to turn practical, thought out tactics that were part of a larger plan for liberation, and remove them from their context. Then we often use these tactics as symbolic ways to mark our distaste for empire and harken back to older movements. However, these tactics are often already accounted for by the system, and sometimes are actively encouraged as ways to harm our people and defang our processes.

Here is an example;

In the Civil Rights struggle, getting arrested en mass was seen as an important part of the process of freedom. The civil rights leaders realized that the areas they were in did not have large enough jails to confine them all, and that if they filled the jails up, the police simply could not confine everyone else in the movement. Getting arrested in coordinated ways was a noble and helpful sacrifice that kept your brothers and sisters from getting arrested. Due to less strict sentencing at the time, and the ability of the movement to scare the police into releasing people, getting arrested often wasn’t the utterly disabling and free-life ending process it is today. (That’s not to say getting arrested was easy on people; the police brutality of the time was incredibly intense.)

Those who spent time in jail were given almost a reverent status. That had gone through much suffering to keep others from the same fate. Often, their ability to taking confinement completely off the table for the rest of the activists is precisely what allowed for certain other actions to be successful. Paying for legal defense and moderate bail costs was something of a drain on the movements scant, resources but it could often be worth it due to the role arrests played.

However, the state responded to this, and turned it to their benefit. The next fifty years saw a prison boom. Now, economically deprived small towns were made to bid and beg for prisons to be built in there areas; not only to lock people up, but also because working at the prison was presented as one of the only jobs left in rural America. Additionally, thisdrove the labor minded population to be further in conflict with other movements in some areas.

As the capacity of the government to capture and confine increased, the capacity of the movement to fill up the jails and prevent further arrests did not. Now, the system was hungry for more and more bodies for its endless rooms. It further instilled and mechanized the capacity of prisons to force labor, undercutting labor movements. Sentences became longer, parole became stricter, fines and restitutions increased to exorbitant amounts. Those who went in for petty arrests often never came out.

But, the feeling that getting arrested was a noble and venerable goal did not leave the movement. Some transitioned tactics; instead of filling up the jails to allow others to act without recourse, they sought to get arrested in test cases, as they had seen work occasionally before. But this too became more and more difficult, as the legal system realized it did not have to play by its own rules. Slowly but surely, the legal mythology that because it is written and because it is fair, it will be ruled so, began to overtake the minds of activists; even as they failed time and time again to win this way, they still threw countless of their friends into the mouth of the enemy, and condemned them to life in prison.

Even this had become a shadow of itself by the 2000s and 2010s. Arrest became an aesthetic goal instead of a practical one. The most radical in the movements were culturally encouraged to throw their lives away for petty protests that none would see, and would have no material impact on the operations of the system of dominion. The reality that getting kettled at a non violent protest could land you with the same jail time as a political assassination did not dawn upon these activists until long after hey were already in jail, and already disconnected from the movement. Their friends would gather all their meager savings towards bail funds, oftentimes going into debt, or otherwise extracting money from the rest of the marginalized communities supportive of the activism. Those funds would then go to the government in the form of bail, and then right back towards operating the same policing systems that targeted them. In this way, the main economic output of the leftists movement of the time was to fund the very systems of policing that they sought to destroy; and to get themselves and each other locked in cages in the process. Instead of developing practical systems of change, radicals were taught to emulate key aspects of the tactics of prior generations that had specifically been recuperated into the goals of the state.

Those who saw the futility in this were readily pushed towards the defanged and self acknowledged pointless marches of the nonviolent liberal movement, which never had any goal other than to once again emulate the visual aesthetics and personal emotional fulfillment of past movements.

We see this pattern play out all the time. People insisting on the radical importance of a leftist print newspaper in a time when print journalism is dead. A fetishization of industrial unionism in a town where no factory has been for three generations. Arguments over whether to support long defunct governments and long dead leaders for some tactical benefit which will never arise from reality.

It is long past time for us to realize that the process of achieving human liberation does not come from symbolic actions, nor from following the playbook of past movements. We must learn our history, yes, but not to emulate it; instead we must learn it to understand its failures and its successes, and, most importantly, how our movement ancestors interacted with the material conditions of their time to create multifaceted plans that met the needs of their people and made successful guerrilla war upon dominion.

We need to imagine ways of making change that are suited to the times that we are living in, the problems we face, and the opportunities that we have. This utterly necessitates that we get deeply embedded into the places and communities around us, that we listen with open ears to the problems our people are facing, and that we fold those ever more towards opportunities of liberation and care for one another.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #47

I would turn back time just to see you again

Imagine dis…

I just needed to clean my drafts and this one is a bit overdue. Also I think I saw a post similar to this one and I cant find them anymore so either way kudos to them cause their post inspired me to make one of my own.

…..

Danny Phantom, now Danyal al Ghul, had found himself hurled into the past. Panic clawed at him. He didn’t need to guess, he already knew something had happened to Clockwork, his mentor, his protector, the Ancient of Time himself. A disturbance in the Infinite Realms had yanked him forcibly back into his younger body, leaving only his soul intact and including the full weight of bearing the title the Ancient of Space.

And he had landed here.

In Nanda Parbat.

In the very place where his life had ended the first time.

But Danyal was not without resources. He had memories. He had the power. And most importantly, he had training. He understood he couldn't act suspicious not here, surrounded by League members who could smell weakness.

So he slipped into his former role.

He became the perfect illusion of young Danyal, the former him, the wide-eyed, devoted son who adored his mother and idolized his older twin, Damian.

Every smile, every soft word during the rare times where only he and Damian are together, every clumsy move was calculated, down to the tremble in his voice and the slight hesitations in his steps. His every expression was carefully crafted to mimic innocence.

As much innocence he was allowed within this halls.

Danyal was acting, and he was doing it so well that even Talia and Damian, the supposed two people who knew him best, never questioned him.

Not at first.

He trained in secret, pushing his ghostly powers to the edge while outwardly struggling with swordplay in which Damian mastered months ago. He let it show in his own body language on how confused he is during strategy meetings, deferential during training sessions. He laughed and cried. Anything to keep suspicion off his true nature.

He will avoid the Fentons at this time around at all costs. As much he adored Jazz and Dani he wouldn’t want to feel his own organs rearranging itself and beating outside of his own body for the second time.

But he will wait, wait for the fateful day where Ra would only need one heir. The day where Danyal Al Ghul could never grip his sword right as to follow the order to fight by the Demon Head.

The day Damian had killed him without so much as a second thought always vying for the rightful title as the heir.

But something went wrong.

A week into his second life, Danyal watched with growing horror as events began to diverge from the past he remembered. Talia and Damian that was once Ra’s al Ghul’s most loyal heirs, had killed Ra’s themselves. The man who had cast his shadow over their entire lives was gone, and now both mother and twin looked at Danyal with sharp, unsettling intensity.

Family dinners became mandatory, silent meetings took place behind locked doors, and Danyal could feel the weight of their stares lingering on him longer than ever before.

He clung to his mask of naivety, knowing any slip might reveal the powerful being hidden beneath the skin of a boy.

He almost convinced himself that he could handle it—that he could steer this altered fate back on course.

That deep down Damian still wanted to be the only one. The one true heir.

Until a horde of colorfully dressed vigilantes stormed Nanda Parbat’s gates.

As Danyal al Ghul, he had to respond.

Katana in hand, neutral expression plastered on his face, he sprinted toward the throne room. He braced himself for bloodshed, for the clash of steel.

Instead, he heard shouting.

Bursting through the doors, he found not assassins or invaders—but Gotham's vigilante elite: Nightwing, Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin. Only Robin was absent. They stood frozen, as pale as specters, staring at him.

At the boy with Damian's face—and crystal blue eyes.

….

Six Years in the Future:

The Batfamily had been losing a brutal war against Eclipso—the personification of God’s wrath, possessing Ra’s al Ghul’s body, corrupted by endless dips in the Lazarus Pit. Eclipso had shattered mountains, unleashed floods, brought devastation with the power of a fallen god.

Just as he delivered what should have been a killing blow to the broken Batfamily—

They woke up.

In the past.

Dick was back in Blüdhaven. Tim was Robin again. Jason was a newly minted Red Hood. Bruce was a broken man, still mourning Jason.

Memories intact, instincts sharper than ever, they knew where to go: Nanda Parbat.

They expected to find Ra’s. They expected to find Damian.

They did not expect Ra’s to already be dead, his ashes scattered to the wind.

They did not expect Talia to step from the shadows and confess she had killed him herself, striking before Eclipso could even thought of possessing the former Demon Head.

They did not expect Talia relinquish her own hold to Damian. Talia as though pushed him towards them.

And they certainly did not expect Damian go wide eyed in surprise and then anger and be so so insistent to stay here.

The argument between Talia and Damian was vicious, each screaming accusations and betrayals at the other—until a boy, a stranger, entered.

A boy who looked like Damian.

But whose eyes blazed bright, glacial blue.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Danyal al Ghul.

A son Bruce had never known. A brother Damian had killed in the first timeline. A secret Talia had buried deep within her heart.

To Damian, Danyal was the brother who had loved him without hesitation—whom he had destroyed in cold ambition.

To Talia, Danyal was her true heir—the one she had nurtured, protected, loved beyond measure.

To the family of vigilantes, Danyal was a son/ brother that they didn’t know about, and didn’t get to mourn about.

And now, faced with a second chance, neither Talia nor Damian would let the Batfamily take him away so easily.

Because no matter how much Bruce or his sons demanded— Talia would rather die than lose Danyal again.

And this time, Danyal wasn’t a helpless boy.

This time, he had secrets of his own.

…..

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PS: This is shorter than i thought it would be....

[murderbot]

this is a new post being made for ammar @ammarfamily2 as i checked the post i had been using and it has now been flagged as "potentially mature content". out of concern for this possibly suppressing pings, i have made this one instead.

the below text is copy pasted from the previous

samah’s original campaign and account are shared by 90-ghost, but it was shut down as her organiser’s bank account was deactivated

proof samah asked me to use my paypal / ko-fi account here

unfortunately ammar needs some medication to make sure he is well after the operation he had 3 days ago - namely, he needs painkillers and antibiotics

samah has told me that it is going to cost $1263 for his post-surgery care - because she will have to pay 20% fees to get this money to her, i have it up as $1600.

his condition without having immediately received the post-surgery medication already worsened enough that he had to return to intensive care last night

in 3 days he has had surgery, left the hospital, and failed to receive the medication needed to keep him well after the surgery, then became ill enough to go back to the hospital.

we truly do not have enough time and i worry for him, please let's do what we can for him

$766 / $1600

let me know for ping removal

@shikse @gh4ul @sundung @fandom-master-mind @aconstantallegory

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@metal-king-slime @seraphalpha @maidthings @mxwhore @inkskinned

[ahmed1132]

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #594)✅️

Help my family in Gaza and give them hope to live in peace 💔🚨

Hi, I am Ahmed from Palestine, from the northern part of Gaza City. I am 33 years old, married, and a father of two children. I live in the Jabalia refugee camp with my family, which consists of 19 members, in a four-story house.

Since the beginning of the war on Gaza on October 7th, life in northern Gaza has been extremely difficult, lacking basic necessities due to the siege imposed by the Israeli army on the northern part of the Gaza Strip. The occupation has blocked food, medicine, water, electricity, and even communication networks. Thousands of airstrikes have been carried out, and hundreds of massacres have been committed, mostly affecting innocent civilians, the majority of whom are children and women. The infrastructure, thousands of homes, and civilian facilities have been destroyed.

On May 12th, 2024, the Israeli army besieged the Jabalia camp for the second time and ordered us to evacuate, informing us that it was a military operation zone and a dangerous combat area. We were forced to leave our homes in the camp and flee under heavy bombardment and intense gunfire, navigating through the rubble and bodies lying in the streets and on the roads. We became homeless, with no food or water. During this difficult siege, I lost two of my brothers, Abdullah, 30 years old, and Atallah, 26 years old, due to random shelling and airstrikes on the camp.

Why am I collecting donations?

After more than 15 months of war, on January 19th, 2025, the ceasefire came into effect, and we returned to the camp to check on our home. However, we were shocked by the extent of the destruction and devastation in the camp. The homes had turned into piles of rubble, and we could no longer recognize the places or roads due to the scale of the damage. Our house was completely destroyed, leaving us homeless. Now, my family and I live in a small tent that is insufficient for the number of family members. It offers no privacy, no bathroom, no kitchen, and it does not protect us from the summer heat or the winter cold. We are living in an overcrowded environment with displaced people, chaos, piles of garbage, and the spread of diseases, especially among the displaced children.

This war has forced us to live in extremely harsh conditions and an environment that is unfit for human life. We continue to suffer every day from the ongoing war, repeated displacement, lack of resources and essentials, fear, pain, and oppression. Not to mention the hardship of fetching water, standing in long queues for basic needs, and struggling to find food—another challenge added to our suffering in this devastating war that is destroying people, buildings, trees, and animals. All of this has exhausted our bodies and deeply affected our mental well-being.

Therefore, I am reaching out to you through this humanitarian platform to help me support my family, rebuild our destroyed home, and contribute to providing the basic necessities of life so that I can live with my family with dignity and freedom.

• How will these donations be used?

1) An apartment will be rented to temporarily house my family until the reconstruction of the destroyed house is completed, as an alternative to a tent, at a cost of $600 per month for at least two years. (An estimated total cost of $14,000 over the two years.)

2) Purchase the basic tools and equipment necessary to furnish the rented apartment at an estimated cost of $5,000.

3) Purchase clothing and basic necessities for all family members at an estimated cost of $6,000.

4) Remove the rubble of the destroyed house and rebuild it at an estimated cost of $140,000.

5) Purchase the tools and equipment necessary to furnish all apartments in the new house at an estimated cost of $35,000.

• How does your donation and support make a difference?

Your support and donation is a noble humanitarian cause that supports and strengthens our resilience during the war. This contribution, even if it is small, will make a huge difference in my life and the life of my family.

Please help us to live in safety and peace, to start over to achieve our ambitions and dreams, and to create a safe environment for our children that will provide them with a bright future.

@gazavetters @brokenbackmountain@gazavetters @just-browsing1222 @mothblossoms @aleciosun @serica-e @fluoresensitive @katherineonline @khizuo @lesbiandardevil @transmutationisms @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi @yetisidelblog

[vampiricvenus]

Let's help Fadel heal and evacuate!

Verified! #197 on this spreadsheet.

I was contacted by Fadel, a third-year student in Information Technology. Him and his family have been displaced 5 times already. Not long ago, he and his family were injured in an attack amongst the rubble that used to be their home. They were almost martyred.

Him and his family were transferred in extremely dangerous conditions to a hospital in southern Gaza after that. Once there, the doctors were able to remove some of the shrapnel from Fadel's body, but there' were still shrapnel stuck inside me that they's more they could not remove. The surgery he needs is very complicated and cannot be performed there due to the lack of medical resources.

Now he lives in constant intense pain. He needs to leave Gaza as soon as possible. The cost for travel is €7,000, and then there's €3,000 for the treatment he needs.

We can do this!! Fadel's goal is a lot smaller than most other campaigns and his hasn't surpassed even the first thousand euros!

€538/€10,000

[mariacallous]

Ava, 27, seemed unbothered by her partner’s inability to communicate his emotions. “We have enough to think about,” she told me as she slid her laptop out of her tote bag, still dressed in her tweed blazer from work. It wasn’t serious, anyway.

She’d been dating Max for a few months when it struck her — mid-conversation with a friend — that she had no idea what he felt about her or their future.

So she stopped asking.

There was a time, she said, when she would’ve tried harder.

Sara, 21, recalled sitting on her bed while her boyfriend begged her to hear him out. He wasn’t remorseful for cheating, he just no longer wanted to sit with his shame.

“I was done,” she said. And yet, he expected her to comfort him. “I had to help him find the words for his feelings, not his actions,” — long silences, teasing through shame and self-hatred. “He didn’t know what he wanted to say,” she said. “And then I made him feel OK about it”.

These stories reflect a shift among young women in which more and more of them are “quiet-quitting” these relationships. Women are now 23% less likely to want to date than men, not because they don’t care, but because they feel they’ve invested too much emotional labor without support in return.

The Other Side Of The Masculinity Crisis? The Exhausting Emotional Intelligence Gap.

In intimate relationships, young women are taking on a disproportionate load of invisible emotional labor, often supporting men through intense feelings of failure and isolation from friends. Many men described feeling “weird or like a waste of time” when opening up to male friends, instead reserving vulnerability for their relationships with women.

While men consider this unburdening to women a “natural part” of their relationships, those same women describe it as work— what researchers at Stanford University call “mankeeping.”

Over the past two years, I’ve interviewed dozens of young men and women about their relationships. What’s emerged is a sense that women are absorbing the emotional fallout of a crisis they didn’t create. The anxieties surrounding what it means to be a man in 2025 should matter to everyone. They’re reshaping not just our politics, but the very fabric of how women and men interact — shaping how we love, how we vote, and whether we can build a future together at all. Telling the other side of the “masculinity crisis” is key to solving it.

The crisis is especially acute for younger men — with two-thirds reporting that “no one really knows them.” Christopher Pepper, co-author of Talk To Your Boys, notes that Gen Z is the first generation to rely mostly on their phones to communicate.

“There’s no responsibility for what’s on the receiving end [of online communication],” he said, with online spaces often devolving into slurs and death threats “that wouldn’t be acceptable in other situations.”

For the 60% of men who engage with masculinity influencers, friendship itself is evolving: ambition, wealth and popularity are prioritized over trust. In individualist countries like the U.K. and U.S., this shift is more pronounced — perhaps owed to the glamorization of lone-wolf masculinity, in which vulnerability is discouraged.

When ‘The Costs Of Caring’ Are Too Much

Meanwhile, young women are rejecting patriarchal expectations that previous generations internalized. Once expected to shoulder emotional labor as a normal part of relationships, they are now more aware of the “costs of caring,” including suppressing their own needs. They’re less inclined to date, with 56% saying “it’s hard to find someone who meets their expectations,” compared to 35% of men.

From “I’m Not Your Therapist” to “I’m literally Joan Baez,” Gen Z women are resisting the notion of offering up too much to men. While some women told me that men without emotional fluency are unattractive, others hesitate to expect it, fearing they’ll be labelled “controlling”.

Several women I spoke with expressed concern over how dating men affects their economic futures. The role of women as invisible drivers of men’s success isn’t new, but with young people struggling to find jobs at unprecedented rates, it’s taken a new form. From job hunting to burnout, “women tend to provide increased emotional support to men who do not have it elsewhere.”

[tanadrin]

also, and this is just a pet peeve of mine, it annoys me that a certain kind of low-key evil environmentalist has convinced some people to think about fresh water as a resource that is on the verge of running out and about to take civilization with it.

fresh water is a renewable resource! it literally falls from the sky! it's so abundant that you don't have to ship it from place to place or pipe it across continents, and the fact that we don't is why it is, in some dry regions, a locally scarce resource. fresh water usage is a concern if you live, like, in the Southwest and alfalfa farmers are draining the aquifers (and where fresh water is genuinely scarce AFAICT it's always bc someone is trying to grow water-intensive crops in the middle of the freaking desert), but no amount of water shortage in nevada is going to make it scarce is like Chicago.

large swathes of some regions need to worry about water usage as an environmental/resource concern. it is not a crisis everywhere. (and the solution to the crisis where it exists is pretty clear: make people pay the actual cost of the water they use, and don't try to grow fuckin' alfalfa in semi-arid conditions)

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[jadeharleyinc]

the scale of AI's ecological footprint

standalone version of my response to the following:

"you need soulless art? [...] why should you get to use all that computing power and electricity to produce some shitty AI art? i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources." "i think we all deserve nice things. [...] AI art is not a nice thing. it doesn’t meaningfully contribute to us thriving and the cost in terms of energy use [...] is too fucking much. none of us can afford to foot the bill." "go watch some tv show or consume some art that already exists. […] you know what’s more environmentally and economically sustainable […]? museums. galleries. being in nature."

you can run free and open source AI art programs on your personal computer, with no internet connection. this doesn't require much more electricity than running a resource-intensive video game on that same computer. i think it's important to consume less. but if you make these arguments about AI, do you apply them to video games too? do you tell Fortnite players to play board games and go to museums instead?

speaking of museums: if you drive 3 miles total to a museum and back home, you have consumed more energy and created more pollution than generating AI images for 24 hours straight (this comes out to roughly 1400 AI images). "being in nature" also involves at least this much driving, usually. i don't think these are more environmentally-conscious alternatives.

obviously, an AI image model costs energy to train in the first place, but take Stable Diffusion v2 as an example: it took 40,000 to 60,000 kWh to train. let's go with the upper bound. if you assume ~125g of CO2 per kWh, that's ~7.5 tons of CO2. to put this into perspective, a single person driving a single car for 12 months emits 4.6 tons of CO2. meanwhile, for example, the creation of a high-budget movie emits 2840 tons of CO2.

is the carbon cost of a single car being driven for 20 months, or 1/378th of a Marvel movie, worth letting anyone with a mid-end computer, anywhere, run free offline software that consumes a gaming session's worth of electricity to produce hundreds of images? i would say yes. in a heartbeat.

even if you see creating AI images as "less soulful" than consuming Marvel/Fortnite content, it's undeniably "more useful" to humanity as a tool. not to mention this usefulness includes reducing the footprint of creating media. AI is more environment-friendly than human labor on digital creative tasks, since it can get a task done with much less computer usage, doesn't commute to work, and doesn't eat.

and speaking of eating, another comparison: if you made an AI image program generate images non-stop for every second of every day for an entire year, you could offset your carbon footprint by… eating 30% less beef and lamb. not pork. not even meat in general. just beef and lamb.

the tech industry is guilty of plenty of horrendous stuff. but when it comes to the individual impact of AI, saying "i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources. do you need this? is this making you thrive?" to an individual running an AI program for 45 minutes a day per month is equivalent to questioning whether that person is entitled to a single 3 mile car drive once per month or a single meatball's worth of beef once per month. because all of these have the same CO2 footprint.

so yeah. i agree, i think we should drive less, eat less beef, stream less video, consume less. but i don't think we should tell people "stop using AI programs, just watch a TV show, go to a museum, go hiking, etc", for the same reason i wouldn't tell someone "stop playing video games and play board games instead". i don't think this is a productive angle.

(sources and number-crunching under the cut.)

good general resource: GiovanH's article "Is AI eating all the energy?", which highlights the negligible costs of running an AI program, the moderate costs of creating an AI model, and the actual indefensible energy waste coming from specific companies deploying AI irresponsibly.

CO2 emissions from running AI art programs: a) one AI image takes 3 Wh of electricity. b) one AI image takes 1mn in, for example, Midjourney. c) so if you create 1 AI image per minute for 24 hours straight, or for 45 minutes per day for a month, you've consumed 4.3 kWh. d) using the UK electric grid through 2024 as an example, the production of 1 kWh releases 124g of CO2. therefore the production of 4.3 kWh releases 533g (~0.5 kg) of CO2.

CO2 emissions from driving your car: cars in the EU emit 106.4g of CO2 per km. that's 171.19g for 1 mile, or 513g (~0.5 kg) for 3 miles.

costs of training the Stable Diffusion v2 model: quoting GiovanH's article linked in 1. "Generative models go through the same process of training. The Stable Diffusion v2 model was trained on A100 PCIe 40 GB cards running for a combined 200,000 hours, which is a specialized AI GPU that can pull a maximum of 300 W. 300 W for 200,000 hours gives a total energy consumption of 60,000 kWh. This is a high bound that assumes full usage of every chip for the entire period; SD2’s own carbon emission report indicates it likely used significantly less power than this, and other research has shown it can be done for less." at 124g of CO2 per kWh, this comes out to 7440 kg.

CO2 emissions from red meat: a) carbon footprint of eating plenty of red meat, some red meat, only white meat, no meat, and no animal products the difference between a beef/lamb diet and a no-beef-or-lamb diet comes down to 600 kg of CO2 per year. b) Americans consume 42g of beef per day. this doesn't really account for lamb (egads! my math is ruined!) but that's about 1.2 kg per month or 15 kg per year. that single piece of 42g has a 1.65kg CO2 footprint. so our 3 mile drive/4.3 kWh of AI usage have the same carbon footprint as a 12g piece of beef. roughly the size of a meatball [citation needed].

[austinbutlerslovers]

Obsession

Label Mature 18+

Summary Betrothed to Feyd-Rautha, the dark and terrifyingly handsome Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, you should be filled with fear, instead you are obsessed with him.

Harkonnen wedding traditions are brutal and cruel, a series of tests meant to prove your undying obedience yet you find yourself giving everything on your wedding night to ensure you are his one true Baroness.

🚨 Depraved Smut 🚨 foreplay•Dune style stimulation devices•temporary restraints •ovulation stimulator •breeding kink•multiple interchanged sex positions•multiple orgasms

🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consult @burnthheparaphilia 🩸slight mention of blood, Feyds from a chalice for the wedding

Yes 🤤 the unnatural obsession with Feyd is so real

Obsession

Your heart raced as the shuttle descended through the thick, polluted clouds of Geidi Prime, the dark, industrial planet that would soon be your new home. The vast, mechanical landscape stretched below, black and gray, a dystopian sprawl where nothing grew naturally. It was stark, oppressive, and utterly foreign to you, just like the man you were about to marry.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. The name alone made your pulse quicken. He was dark, enigmatic, and dangerous, whispered about in terror. The nephew of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, Feyd was next in line to become the Baron himself, a title that would grant him dominion over the cruel, shadowed world of Geidi Prime and all who lived under his rule.

You had heard of him long before you ever saw him in person. The stories reached your ears like venom, laced with fear and awe. Even on your distant homeworld, far from the brutal politics of Giedi Prime, Feyd’s reputation preceded him.

He was a figure of dark fascination, a Harkonnen prince known for his ruthlessness in the gladiatorial arena and his cunning in the shadows of the political court. But it wasn’t until the day you saw him with your own eyes that the name took on a new, enticing meaning.

The Harkonnens had come to broker a deal with your ruling family, a subtle tightening of their grip over your people. Your father, proud and stern, had never been one to show emotion, but even he couldn’t mask the strain this decision was putting on him.

The meeting was held in the grand hall of your father’s palace. You were present but only as an observer, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

The Baron sat smugly in his chair, Feyd standing just behind him, a dark figure of quiet menace. Every so often, your eyes would dart to Feyd, stealing glances at the way he held himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

His sharp features, the cold intensity in his eyes, but that alone had been enough to stir something dangerous within you.

This was the final and longest of several negotiations, and you could see the tension simmering beneath the surface, the unsaid truths weighing heavily on your father.

He was prepared to give you away as part of this dark, political bargain. The deal had been struck weeks ago, an agreement to cement an alliance with the Harkonnens in exchange for protection and resources…at the cost of your hand in marriage.

Your father’s voice wavered as the meeting wore on. “She is my daughter,” he said, his tone strained. “I want assurances—more than just words.”

The Baron’s smile was a twisted thing, devoid of warmth. “You’ll get what was promised,” he replied, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken threats. “The bargain is set. There’s no going back now.”

That’s when your father’s voice began to escalate torn between the weight of his obligations no longer able to contain his frustration.

“We made the bargain between our planets, yes,” he said, his voice rising, sharp with anger. “But my daughter is a princess—my daughter—and I will not stand by and watch her be treated like some pawn in your twisted games! I want assurances—real assurances—that she will be unharmed!”

The Baron’s smile deepened with a steely coldness as he clasped his hands together. “This is no place for sentiment,” he interrupted. “You’ve already sold her future. You would do well to remember that.”

That is when the discussion escalated, voices from your father and his advisors rising with every point of contention, their frustration growing louder in the face of the now cackling Baron, and then something shifted. The air grew charged, dangerous, and you could feel it coming before anyone else did.

One of your father’s personal guards, a man known for his loyalty, yet prone to impulsiveness, had stepped too close to Feyd, perhaps provoked by the tension in the room. His words had been a sharp insult against the Harkonnens.

You watched, heart pounding, as Feyd moved faster than anyone expected.

With a fluidity that defied his size, Feyd was upon the guard before anyone could blink.

The guard didn’t even have time to react Feyd’s movements were a blur, brutal, efficient, and terrifyingly precise.

In a heartbeat, he slammed the guards head against the table, his knife pressed to the man’s throat, his eyes alight with a cold controlled fury.

There was no hesitation, no moment of indecision. Feyd had claimed dominance in an instant, the guard left shocked he was now under the threat of death.

Feyds control over the situation was absolute. The room held its breath, waiting for him to make the kill, and for a moment, you thought he would.

The room was silent, the only sound the faint rasps of the guard’s breathing under Feyd’s blade.

But Feyd didn’t kill him. Instead, he leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous as he whispered something in the guard’s ear. Whatever it was, you couldn’t hear it, but the look of sheer terror on the guard’s face told you enough.

Feyd withdrew the blade slowly, deliberately, as though savoring the moment. Then, just as quickly as he had attacked, he stepped back, his face returning to a mask of cold indifference.

You had felt your pulse quicken, excitement rushing through you. There was something about him, his precision, his control, the way he could command a room with nothing more than a glance and a blade.

You had heard tales of his brutality, but seeing it in person was different. It was intoxicating. Where others might have felt fear, you felt something else—something far more dangerous.

It was in that moment, as Feyd stepped away from the trembling guard, his gaze sweeping across the room, that his eyes met yours for the first time. The connection was brief, just a flicker, but it was enough. His lips curved ever so slightly, as he stared at you as if he had already claimed you.

There was no warmth in his gaze, no affection—only the cold certainty that he saw you as his inevitable prize. And yet, the intensity of his focus made it impossible for you to think of anything else. It was almost maddening the way he could make you feel like he already owned you, without ever laying a hand on you and it was the beginning of something darkly inevitable.

He had seen you watching him, and you had seen him for what he truly was, a force of control, of power, of dominance. You had always heard the Harkonnens were dangerous, but it wasn’t until you saw Feyd that day you realized how deeply you craved that danger. And from that moment on, your obsession with him began to grow.

You hadn’t been given a choice in the matter; the day of the marriage ceremony had already been arranged on Giedi Prime.

It was assumed you would be an unwilling captive, terrified of this unhinged manipulative Harkonnen. Everyone warned you to be prepared for the worst, to expect coldness, cruelty—maybe even pain.

But they didn’t know you.

As the shuttle landed, your anticipation only grew, a thrill sparking deep inside you. You were completely obsessed with him now, this future Baron whose reputation was so dark, so cruel. You craved what others feared. And tomorrow, on your wedding night, you would finally be his.

The wedding was a cold, efficient ceremony. The Harkonnen traditions were harsh, foreign to you, but strangely exhilarating.

The current Baron watched carefully, his calculating gaze never leaving you as the guards led you forward to Feyd-Rautha.

The Baron had anticipated seeing you recoil at the sight of his nephew, his cruel sneer already forming as you placed your hand in Feyd’s.

But the excitement that rushed through you as you laid eyes on the tall, imposing Feyd-Rautha was hidden behind a mask of composer. You kept your expression calm, but inside, the thrill of standing next to him, of touching him, surged through you.

You couldn’t wait to be his, your obsession for him building from the moment you laid eyes on him. He was powerful and irresistible, your desire for him deepening with every glance you stole in his direction.

He had barely spoken a word to before the ceremony but his presence sent waves of anticipation through you. He was strong, and intelligent, his angular features making him impossibly attractive in a sinister way.

His blue eyes gleamed with something dark, something dangerous, and you knew instantly you wanted him, all of him, no matter how twisted or cruel he might be.

The procession began at dawn, the sky a sickly red as the first light filtered through the grimy atmosphere of the planet. The ceremonial gown they had chosen for you was unlike any wedding attire you had ever imagined, an artifact of Harkonnen cruelty.

It was not designed for beauty or grace, but to impose dominance, to encase you in the rigid structure of their traditions.

You were sewn into the gown, the black fabric clinging so tightly to your body that it was suffocating in its embrace, your chest the only thing free from the bodice.

The garment was designed to restrain you—to remind you of the life you were about to enter, one ruled by dominance and power.

Feyd, standing at the altar, wore a regal garment, black with crimson accents, the Harkonnen emblem across his chest.

His presence was commanding, his expression cold and unreadable, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, his claim laid into to you long before the ritual even began.

The ceremony itself was a test, not just of loyalty, but of strength, a series of grueling customs meant to solidify the union between you and the Harkonnen House.

The first was a Blood Oath, an ancient Harkonnen tradition that required both partners to spill their blood as a symbol of their commitment, not just to each other, but to the house itself.

A ceremonial blade was presented to Feyd, its edge gleaming dangerously in the low light of the grand hall.

Feyds blood was the first to be offered,a symbol of his dominance and control, and you felt your breath quicken as you watched.

Feyd sliced a shallow cut across his palm, the dark blood pooling in his hand. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no sign of pain—just the cold, calculated determination you had come to expect from him.

You had known this moment was coming, had steeled yourself for it, and yet when he reached for your hand, the weight of the ritual suddenly became far more real.

Feyd’s grip on your hand was firm, his fingers wrapping around yours pulling your hand over the chalice. The cold steel of the blade brushed against your skin, and Feyds eyes searched yours for any hint of fear or hesitation, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away.

The blade hovered just above your palm, the sharp edge gleaming as Feyd pressed it gently against your skin. You could feel the pressure, the promise of pain, and then, with one swift motion, the blade sliced through the delicate skin of your hand.

The sting was immediate, sharp and precise, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to that single point of contact.

You gasped softly, the sound barely audible in the silence of the hall, as warm blood began to trickle from the cut. It slid down your fingers in slow, deliberate streams, mingling with Feyd’s blood as it dripped into the chalice below. The crimson liquid swirled together, yours bright red, his dark and thick, a tangible symbol of the bond you had just forged.

Your heart raced, the steady thrum of it loud in your ears as you locked eyes with Feyd again.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of what had just transpired settled heavily over you, as though the air itself had thickened.

You were no longer two individuals. You were bound by blood, by ritual, by something far deeper than any wedding ceremony could signify.

Feyd held your gaze a moment longer, the intensity between you almost suffocating, before he finally let go of your hand. The cut still throbbed, the blood still trickled down your skin, but the pain was secondary now— your fate had just been sealed.

The chalice, filled with the mingling blood, was lifted by the Baron as your hands were mended, a cold twisted grin of satisfaction playing at the corners of his lips as he inspected the contents. He swirled the blood together, indistinguishable now, just as your fates had become.

“You are one now,” the Baron rasped, his voice carrying a note of finality. “Bound in blood, as it should be.”

He offered the chalice to Feyd, who drank from it readily, his throat moving as he swallowed. You watched intently, your heartbeat quickening, knowing you were next.

Feyd offered the chalice to you held in both hands. His eyes bore into yours, filled with expectation and a dark intensity, silently urging you to drink. There was something in his gaze—commanding, almost daring—as if he needed to see you do it, to watch you take part in this ritual that bound you to him.

Determined to honor his custom, you took the chalice from his hands into your own and did not look at what you drank, only swiftly bringing the edge to your lips.

Just a swallow—and immediately, you knew Feyd’s blood was different, like ink spreading along your tongue, the metallic taste thick and lingering, refusing to dissipate just like this moment, you would never soon forget.

But it wasn’t enough to simply give your blood.

The next custom was known as the Trial of Chains, an ordeal designed to test your endurance and your willingness to submit to the will of House Harkonnen.

You were led to the center of the hall, where an iron structure loomed—a symbolic relic of Harkonnen dominance. Heavy, dark chains were draped over your arms and shoulders. You were forced to stand, unmoving, while the Baron himself recited a list of oaths you would take.

The weight of the chains grew unbearable with each passing moment, your muscles straining under the pressure, but you knew that showing weakness was not an option.

Every Harkonnen wedding had this trial, a display to prove the new spouse’s fortitude. Failure meant dishonor, and in some cases, death.

As the trial continued, Feyd watched you closely, his eyes scanning your every movement, gauging whether you would falter.

But you did not. Despite the heaviness of the chains, despite the cold sweat that began to form on your brow, you stood still, the weight nothing compared to the determination to please him.

By the time the Baron finished the oaths, you felt as though the chains had become a part of you—symbols of the power and control you had willingly accepted.

The last and most chilling custom was The Binding of the Will, a psychological test unique to the Harkonnen lineage.

A dark room was prepared beneath the Grand Hall, filled with a hypnotic scent that that made your lungs feel heavy with every breath.

A veil was placed upon your head, its fabric heavy and oppressive. It was made from a black intricate fabric that seemed to shimmer faintly in the low light. It was woven with delicate, sinister patterns—symbols of submission, of ancient power.

The weight of the veil was almost suffocating, obscuring your vision slightly, casting everything around you in a dim, distorted haze.

You could feel its texture against your skin, cold and unyielding, a physical reminder of the role you were about to play.

You were made to kneel on a white cold stone altar, your knees resting on the unyielding surface as you felt the weight of the veil draped over your head.

Feyd took his place in front of you and you were left alone together in the dimly lit room.

In the heavy silence, you could hear your own shallow breathing, loud and uneven beneath the heavy veil.

Each breath felt more labored, the weight of the ritual and the veil combining to stir a slight panic in your chest.

For a brief moment, it felt overwhelming—the room, the ritual, the weight of the fabric that seemed to trap you in place. But then, through the haze of the veil, you caught sight of Feyd’s eyes.

He was watching you, his gaze almost reverent for what you had endured, and that look alone—anchored you to him.

His hand reached for yours, lightly tracing his finger along your outstretched palm.

It was something you somehow knew was against tradition, against his customs, and yet you couldn’t help but smile at him, utterly enamored.

He met your eyes, and there was a flicker of satisfaction in them, a possessive gleam that held you in place. Then, just as quickly, his hand slipped away, clasped behind his back.

The doors to the room slowly opened as an ancient Harkonnen master entered draped in a cloak of shadows.

In his hands he held a metal prism. His movements were slow and paced, his form almost blending into the darkness that surrounded him.

He approached Feyd offering him the prism without a word which Feyd accepted with reverence bringing it to his forehead before lowering it to his chest.

It was an old relic ancient even, passed down through generations of Harkonnens, The dark, polished surface gleamed under the low light.

Feyd then brought the prism toward you and under your veil. His hand was steady as he pressed a hidden mechanism. With a soft click, the panels unfolded and a cloud of smoke plumed from it.

You tried not to inhale it, but the smoke found its way into your lungs thick and sweet with every shallow breath.

Slowly a warmth began to seep into your veins, spreading inch by inch through your body, a creeping sensation, as though something dark was settling inside you, rooting itself deep within.

You softly gasped as everything around you blurred, the room seeming to shift and warp before your eyes, becoming both infinite and claustrophobic all at once.

Your limbs grew heavy, but your mind floated away, detached from the physical weight of your body.

The air was no longer suffocating but welcoming, each breath drawing you deeper into a dreamlike haze.

Feyd watched you closely until your head lulled your eyes fluttering, then he closed the lid removing the prism.

The master began speaking a series of words in a language you didn’t recognize, words that held a strange, almost hypnotic power.

The words, when spoken, worked deep into your mind, attempting to root out your fears, your weaknesses, and plant a binding suggestion that you would never defy the will of your husband, nor the Harkonnen family.

This binding wasn’t meant to break your spirit completely, but rather to tether it—making sure that, while you might fight or resist, you would always come back, always remain under his control.

The master’s voice was a low, droning chant, and with every word, you felt an eerie surge of calm settle over you, as though the very air was wrapping around your mind, coaxing it to bend.

By the end of the ritual, you felt a strange sense of liberation and captivity.

You had passed every test, met every challenge. You had shown them that you were worthy to stand beside Feyd Rautha, but in doing so, you had also surrendered a part of yourself to the darkness that was the Harkonnen legacy.

As the ceremony concluded, Feyd stepped toward you, the cold, calculating look in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more genuine. He took your hands in his, and though the touch was possessive, you felt a connection, a burning energy between you.

The Baron watched from the shadows as Feyd removed the veil, his lips curling into a twisted smile. You had passed the tests and now you belonged to Feyd-Rautha, bound by blood, chains, and will.

As you walked together from the hall, the dark traditions of the Harkonnen now coursing through your veins, you realized you had entered their world, and you would never leave it.

The moment the heavy doors of the ceremonial mating chambers closed behind you, the air between you shifted, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken tension.

Feyd’s eyes bore into you, calculating what he do with you now that you were alone.

His dark gaze made your pulse quicken, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

“You enjoyed the ceremony, didn’t you?” Feyd’s voice asks with a low rasp, as he took a slow step toward you, his strong frame towering over yours.

“You are the first bride to complete it,” he reveals, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

You meet his gaze without flinching, though a strange haze clouds your thoughts, a light sweat dampening your skin.

Whatever they had given you during the ceremony still lingers in your body, making everything feel distant and sharp all at once.

Your heart races with your limbs feeling heavy and light at the same time but a dangerous, daring look flickers in your eyes.

“Maybe I am not like most brides.” You respond the words slipping from your lips.

A wicked smile tugs at the corner of Feyds lips with intrigue. “No, I suppose you’re not,” he says, his eyes dark with something unspoken as he watches you, his gaze lingering on the subtle glisten of your skin.

He moves closer, his hand suddenly gripping your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

His touch is firm, possessive, his fingers cold against your skin, but it only makes you crave more.

“Do you know what’s expected of you tonight?” he asks, his voice low and dark, watching the way your eyes flutter slightly under the heavy weight of opium coursing through your veins from the ritual.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes.”

Something flickers in Feyd’s eyes—interest, surprise—and a slight grin forms at the corner of his lips.

“On your knees,” he says, his voice low and commanding. His tone leaves no room for hesitation, and your legs move of their own accord, sinking into the cold black stone floor beneath you.

Feyd takes his time, circling you , assessing you. His footsteps are slow, deliberate, as the anticipation increases within you, your skin prickling with both fear and excitement.

“You think you understand what tonight is,” he muses, stopping behind you. His fingers sliding into your hair, pulling gently at first, then sharply enough to yank your head back making you cry out.

“Pleasure and pain” he says softly releasing your hair. “Because only through one can you fully experience the other.”

Your heart races as he leaves your side, pressing a button that makes a sleek ledge rise from the floor. When it reaches the desired height, a lid slides back, revealing several items on its surface.

You can’t see what he’s selecting, but the soft clink of metal makes your breath catch in your throat, sending a wave of anticipation coursing through you.

He returns, standing before you once more, and in his hands, he holds two items—one, a smooth handled device with a phallic tip that that glints menacingly in the dim light, and the other, a small, polished stone that pulses with a faint, white inner glow.

His lips curl into a smirk as he crouches down to meet your eye level.

“Do you know what these are?” he asks the question rhetorical as you look at each object.

“No” you breathe looking up to him.

“These will show me everything I need to know about you—how much you can take before you break.” He grins.

He manipulates the handled phallic device turning it on with a quiet hum that makes your nerves tingle. Without warning, he lifts your gown pressing the phallic tip between your legs against your clit, its vibrations intense and immediate.

Your body jerks at the sensation, your muscles tightening against the onslaught of stimulation. Feyd’s eyes darken as he watches you struggle to maintain control, your hips rocking as you begin to give in.

“You will stay still,” he commands, his voice laced with authority. “No matter how much you want to move, you will stay right here until I say otherwise.”

You stifle yourself as the device steadily hums against you, its pulsing rhythm sending waves of pleasure through your body teasing the edges of your desire, leaving you aching for more.

Feyd watches every twitch of your body, every slight movement of your hips as you try, unsuccessfully, to remain still, enduring the pleasure. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight, savoring your frustration as your arousal drips from the device onto the floor.

You want to scream in pleasure, and just when you think you can’t handle any more, Feyd reaches for the glowing stone. The warmth radiating from it as he places it against your chest where it remains in place without his touch.

A sudden, electric current emits from the stone, shooting through your chest, igniting every nerve ending in your body. It is unlike anything you have ever felt before —and the dual stimulation of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm your senses.

The vibrations from the device meld with the energy from the stone, sending jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and weaken under the unrelenting stimulation, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as each wave of sensation builds, layer upon layer, until you’re trembling in desperation.

“Not yet,” Feyd whispers as his hands finally began to roam over your body. His fingers grazing your constricting gown with approval, amplifying the sensation of the two forces at work within you. He is testing you, pushing you to the edge, but will not allow you to fall.

His hand grasps your chin tilting your face upwards to meet his eyes. “You’re mine, and tonight, you’ll learn what that means.” He says looking at you with a grin, his black smile so seductive you involuntarily moan for him.

He twists the handled device between your legs, forcing the phallus inside of you. The onslaught of pleasure is relentless, its rhythm changing every time you think you might get used to the intensity.

The stone on your chest begins sending sharper pulses of pain through you, alternating with the vibrations, each shock more intense than the last.

You try to stay still, try to obey, but your body starts betraying you. Your hips move involuntarily with the device, and a low tsk from Feyd tells you he has noticed and is displeased.

His hand is suddenly in your hair, yanking your head back, his other hand pressing the stone harder against your chest, making the sensation intolerable as you wince in pain.

“If you come you will be punished ” he rasps darkly, his voice sharp in the silence of the room.

“But if you last I will please you greatly.” He says releasing the stones intensity. “But until then, you will endure” he commands.

His words send a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, the challenge in his tone igniting something deep within. His test pushing you, daring you to prove yourself to him.

His hand begins to stroke your chin as you look up to him tears brimming your eyes faint cries rolling from your lips as you endure.

He revels in your torment, the way your body does not react to what he knows is agonizing you in the most pleasurable way.

The sensations start to become too much, your entire body feels as if it’s on fire, each pulse from the stone, each vibration from the device driving you closer and closer to the edge of madness as a startling sound rips from your throat.

And then, as if knowing you are breaking, Feyd yanks the stone from your chest, now intensely glowing red as you fall to the floor gasping and trembling.

The metallic device still pulses inside of you, amplifying only the pleasure which now floods your body and the intensity is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—so extreme it feels like it’s tearing through you.

Unable to hold back any longer, you feel your body finally give in. Every muscle tightens as your thighs tremble uncontrollably and a shudder runs through as you gasp against the floor.

Feyd watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as you come, your body quivering until you finally go limp, completely spent.

He waits for a moment, savoring the sight of you laid before him, your chest rising and falling as you pant, utterly drained.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches for the handle of the device, gripping it firmly.

His movements are controlled and methodical, as he pulls it out of you, the sound of it leaving your body echoes in the stillness of the room, the slick, drenched surface glistening under the low light.

You lie there, weak and breathless, every nerve in your body still on fire from the intensity of what you’ve just experienced.

Feyd slowly grabs a blade from the table, his eyes never leaving yours as he kneels over you, the cold steel gleaming menacingly in his grasp.

The sight of the blade sends a shiver of anticipation through you as Feyd brings it closer to your body, his smile dark and dangerous. His hand traces the lines of the dress, sewn tightly against you, a symbol of the Harkonnen dominance.

“This dress was made to bind you,” he rasps, the blade gleaming in his hand. “When I cut you free, you are mine entirely.” He reveals as he lowers the blade.

His movements are deliberate, calculated, and when the sharp edge of the blade touches the fabric of your gown, you can feel your heart beat quicken.

With a slow, precise motion, he drags the blade through the fabric, the sound of tearing cloth echoing in the stillness of the room.

The gown gives way easily under the sharp edge, the fabric splitting open in precise lines that expose your skin inch by inch. He carves through the material with deliberate precision, freeing you from its confines.

As the last of the gown falls away, you inhale deeply, no longer constricted by the fabric that bound you, the cool air of the room inviting against your bare skin.

Every inch of you is exposed to Feyd, the sensation sharp and invigorating, heightening the awareness of your vulnerability beneath him.

Feyd smirks as he looks down at you, his blade in hand, fully aware of the power he holds over you.

His eyes linger on your nakedness, and you can see the way his desire intensifies, the subtle shift in his expression betraying how aroused he is.

His gaze travels over you with an almost possessive satisfaction, taking in every inch of you knowing you are his to command.

“I will breed you now,” he says, his fingers brushing your skin, just lightly enough to drive you mad. “And you will come for me many times before dawn.”

He stands over you, his dominance absolute, his eyes never leaving yours as he places the blade upon the table.

He removes his ceremonial garments, pulling and unclasping each piece from his body until he’s fully revealed. Beneath the dim light, the chiseled lines of his physique are striking—each muscle sharply defined, his body sculpted with raw strength and power.

His broad shoulders and chest taper down to a trim waist, the smooth, hairless perfection of his skin highlighting the contours of his abs and the hard lines of his arms.

His pale skin gleams under the dim light, his presence is overwhelming, his body a masterpiece of raw strength and dominance.

Your gaze travels down his body, exploring every inch with growing anticipation. When your eyes settle on the impressive size of his cock, you are filled with awe. The pink tip stands proudly from the thick, veined length of his shaft, and you can’t help but feel a surge of reverence, even honor, knowing that he intends to claim you.

Feyd is a force—ruthless, calculating, powerful and the knowledge that you now belong to him fills you with anticipation and desire.

He takes your arms, pulling you from the floor with a firm grip, and presses you down onto the cold, smooth surface of the mating altar.

The slick texture beneath your back sends a shiver through you, amplifying your sense of submission and vulnerability.

Without a word, he grasps your ankle, guiding it into a stirrup, securing it firmly before doing the same with the other.

Your legs are spread apart, knees bent, leaving you completely vulnerable to him. The air feels heavy as Feyd stands before you, his gaze dark and possessive, ready to take what is his.

His hand trails down your body, possessive and slow. “Tonight, you’ll know exactly what it means to belong to me,” he muses, his voice laced with dark promise.

Without breaking his gaze from yours, he presses a button, opening a small compartment on the panel at the foot of the alter pulling out a sleek syringe.

It faintly glows as he dispenses a translucent gel onto his fingers, the substance shimmering slightly in the dim light.

Feyds eyes are dark and calculating, as he slowly reaches between your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate precision.

His touch is cold at first, the gel slick as it coats his fingers, and with a slow, measured motion, he begins to slick it along your folds, his fingers tracing with meticulous care.

Feyd smirks as he softly spreads the gel between your legs, his eyes dark and calculating. “A special preparation, designed to ensure the legacy.” He says pressing his fingers against your entrance.

Then without hesitation he pushes his fingers inside of you, the gel cool and slick heightening every sensation.

“The Harkonnen lineage demands results,” he says, his tone filled with authority, “and I will make sure you fulfill that role.”

He slowly glides them deeper into you, the gel’s slickness easing their penetration. He watches you closely, his expression unreadable as his fingers move with a precision that makes you fully aware this is only the beginning of what he has planned.

His fingers reach a depth that makes you instinctively tighten around him, then he pushes slightly further, finding that perfect place as sudden a gentle ache begins pulsing on both sides of your core.

He pulls his fingers back possessively, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Another night, I will waste you entirely this way,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “But tonight is ensuring you belong to me, body, mind, and future.” He reveals his gaze deep with determination at the thought of owning every part of you.

The wedding night has only just begun, and already, you are his—completely and utterly his to control.

He runs his hands affectionately down your trapped legs, the touch unexpectedly soft, savoring the moment. His fingers trail along your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake, before he grips your legs firmly, holding them in place.

“You will fulfill your role as Baroness” he says with a slow, deliberate motion as he settles between your legs his weight pressing down on you.

“Your body will serve me in ways that will bind you to me forever.” he says almost to himself as his fingertips slowly trail along your cheek.

His gaze is deep, penetrating, as if he’s looking into your very soul, claiming you before a single word is spoken.

You reach up, grabbing hold of Feyd’s neck pulling him down, your lips pressing against his in a heated desperate kiss.

The boldness of your action surprises him, a low sound of approval escaping his throat as your body presses against his, your breaths mingling together.

You kiss him harder, your fingers digging into his neck, your desperation undeniable. “Now,” you whisper between breaths, “I want—I want all of you, now Feyd”

Feyd pulls back slightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

“You will have all of me, and more than you know how to handle.” he rasps, his voice certain.

Then, without another word, he positions himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand as he strokes it, squeezing to the tip until pre-cum beads at the slit.

The intensity in his gaze never leaves yours as he takes his time pressing his large cock into you. He’s agonizingly slow, making sure you feel every ridge, every vein as your body stretches around him.

You moan in pleasure your grasp tightening onto his neck “Yes,” you breathe out, your voice trembling as he pushes deeper, “yes, yes,” the words slipping from your lips as he begins to thrust into you, the fullness of his cock overwhelming in its size exactly what you craved.

His grin only deepens as he takes you, savoring the moment, “I thought you’d resist…—fight against your new role…—but here you are, begging for it.” He says on every push of his hips.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to contain the rush of sensation. “Yes, I want it.”

His smirk deepens, black teeth gleaming as he sets a relentless pace into you.

Your vision blurs, the room spinning as your mind struggles to process the sheer intensity of what’s happening.

The wedding night is unlike anything you had imagined, and yet, it was everything you craved.

Feyd was unhinged, just as they had warned you: possessive, controlling, his thrusts rough and intoxicating, every part of your body fulfilled, pushing you to your limits.

Your moans of his name are so loud he thinks he is breaking you, pushing you too far, but he didn’t know you.

Every time he pushes harder, you revel it, moaning his name, craving more. The harder he breeds you, the more you respond, your body meeting his every thrust, your breathless gasps filling the room.

Feyd’s eyes widen as he realizes what is happening—that you are in pleasure, as unhinged as he is, that you crave the same intensity he does. A grin spreads across his face, wild and dangerous and he leans in, pressing his lips to your ear.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, your nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. “I want more Feyd.”

Something shifts in him hearing those words, his expression darkening with pleasure. He grips your wrists, pinning them above your head as he looms above you, his breath hot and heavy.

“You’re more resilient than I thought,” he reveals with a grin his voice filled with both awe and approval.

“I will give you what you desire” he says his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, as if this unexpected strength only fuels his desire to push you further.

He watches you with a heated, intense gaze, his eyes dark with hunger as his hips snap forward, driving his deepest inside you.

The world narrows to just that moment—the raw, intensifying pleasure that feels too much, too good.

Each thrust after sends shockwaves through your body, and you can feel yourself unraveling, the sensation in your veins too powerful to contain.

Your breaths catch as your mouth opens in desperate moan, your eyes locking with Feyd, the way he takes you wracking your body in ways you never thought possible.

The sensation is dizzying, overwhelming, pushing you right to the edge of sanity. You can barely think, your mind clouded, altered, willing to surrender everything just to have more of him, more of this.

He continues to thrust his hardest, the force of his cock sending a tidal wave of ecstasy that crashes through, leaving you trembling, breathless.

Your body can no longer keep up with the intensity, and every nerve is on fire as you fall, completely undone, spiraling into bliss as everything inside you clenches tight, then releases in a flood of sensation that leaves you gasping.

Feyd feels you clenching on him as he stares into your eyes watching a strangled moan escape your lips, your body shaking as you come.

As your walls tighten around him, his control wavers, his face softening with a raw, unguarded intensity. His hands grip you tighter, fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself to keep from completely falling apart. A low, primal sound emits from his throat, rough and strained, as he fights to maintain control.

You look up into his eyes, meeting that fierce, possessive gaze, and in that instant, something shifts. The warmth of his come spreads deep inside you, filling you with a sense of completeness that takes your breath away. You gasp, the moment overwhelming, binding you to him in a way words could never convey.

His hold tightens further, a silent claim, sealing the connection between you, leaving no doubt that you are his—now and always.

Before the aftershocks have even faded, you already crave him again, desperate for more, for him to fill you and take you over and over again until there’s nothing left but pleasure.

“-Please…” you beg him feeling the heat in your body remain.

Feyd chuckles, low and dark, his voice heavy with satisfaction as his lips brush against your ear, “I’ve completely wrecked you… and you still want more.” His hand cups your face, forcing your eyes to meet his, the smirk on his lips wicked.

“You’d do anything, for me wouldn’t you?” He asks pulling his cock back, just enough to make you feel the loss. “And I’m just getting started.”

The night continues, a blur of pleasure and pain, of control and surrender. Feyd pushes you further than you thought possible your obsession with him deepening with every new position.

He releases you from your restraints flipping onto your front and taking you again, his hands pinning your arms to the mat. The tension between his grip and the rhythm of his thrusts building until you come, trembling beneath him.

He pulls you back on your hands and knees his hand firmly at the back of your neck pressing your face into the mat. His hips driving into you from behind, each thrust harder than the last, until he finally comes satisfied with his release deep within you.

He brings you on all fours his fingers teasing your clit to work you faster as you push back against him until you come together.

He pulls you into his lap, hands cupping your breasts his mouth drawing new waves of pleasure from your core as he leans in to suck on each one. You ride him hard, feeling the heat between you growing until you shatter in his arms.

And as the night goes on, position after position you realize he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him.

He has found someone who can match his intimacy, someone who craves the same things he does, and it thrills him to no end.

By the time dawn breaks over the cold, industrial landscape of Geidi Prime, you lay together, your bodies spent, his arm draped possessively over you. His eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he looks down at you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“You surprised me,” he says, his voice softer now more affectionate. “I didn’t think you could handle me. But you did… and more.”

You smile, feeling a sense of victory, of pride. “I told you… I am not like most brides.”

Feyd chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple. “You will make a fine Baroness for me.” He says, with a deep sense of satisfaction.

“I will have you as my Baron many times,” you whisper, the words sending a thrill through you. You had craved him, all of him—his strength, his control, his darkness. And now, you had it.

Feyd smiles down at you, his fingers brushing along your hair. “Good.” He says his voice a dark satisfied rasp. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

⚔️END ⚔️

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[astrofaeology]

Saturn in Aries

predictions for each Rising

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me. From the 25th of May 2025 to September 1st 2025 (where saturn will station in mercury retrograde) and will become direct once again 27 November 2025, till the 13th of April 2025.

With saturn in aries, saturn will force you to build new foundations, and confronting fears related to independence and bold action. This period will challenge us to be more accountable for our individual drives and to find a mature balance between initiating new ventures and ensuring their long-term viability. Expect to learn valuable lessons about leadership, self-reliance, and the true cost of pioneering new paths.

Aries Rising - Saturn's transit through your first house of self and identity will be a profound period of redefinition. You may feel a significant pressure to solidify who you are, potentially leading to an "identity crisis" as old ways of being are challenged. This is a powerful time for self-mastery and reinvention, as Saturn encourages you to take responsibility for your life and build a more solid foundation for your future self. You'll learn to balance impulsivity with patience and strategic action, leading to a new, mature confidence. If you were born with Saturn in Aries, this is your Saturn Return, a pivotal period of adulting and making firm commitments.

Taurus Rising - will experience Saturn's influence in your twelfth house of the subconscious and hidden matters. This transit encourages deep spiritual growth and healing, calling you to go inward and confront your shadow side. Old patterns of escapism or avoidance may come to the surface, demanding to be addressed. While this can be a solitary period, it offers a chance to release fears and build a strong spiritual practice. By the end of this transit, you can emerge feeling more whole and ready to spread your "new, healed wings."

Gemini Rising - Saturn will be in your eleventh house of friendships, community, and aspirations. Your social circles and group connections may undergo a significant review, with some relationships feeling strained or karmic. You may need to prune your social circle, choosing quality over quantity. This is a time to solidify your long-term goals and choose meaningful alliances. You might be called to leadership within groups, taking on more responsibility. By releasing unhealthy connections, you make room for those who truly support your aspirations.

Cancer Rising - will feel Saturn's weight in your tenth house of career, public image, and destiny. You may feel intense pressure to succeed professionally, and recognition might not come as easily as you hoped, with every misstep feeling public. The road to achieving your goals might be steep and solitary, with delays feeling like failures. However, this is an excellent period for career advancement and building a solid reputation. If you're willing to play the long game, what you build now can define you for decades. You'll learn to take responsibility for your ambitions and step into leadership roles, even if it requires hard work and patience.

Leo Rising - will experience Saturn in your ninth house of higher learning, travel, and belief systems. Your beliefs may be challenged, and previous worldviews might crumble, possibly through disappointing teachers or systems. The way forward might not be obvious, and traditional avenues of expansion may feel restricted. However, your greatest growth will come through broadening your horizons. This is an excellent time to pursue advanced degrees or engage in structured learning. You'll learn what it truly costs to live your truth and build a more resilient and meaningful philosophy of life.

Virgo Rising - Saturn transits your eighth house of shared resources, intimacy, and transformation. This is a period for getting your financial house in order, with issues around taxes, wills, insurance, and inheritances potentially requiring your attention. You'll be encouraged to confront your relationship with vulnerability and power dynamics in intimate connections. This transit offers a chance for deep financial restructuring and psychological healing. By addressing these areas, you can set yourself up for a more secure future and develop a healthier approach to shared resources and intimacy, learning to navigate complex emotional and financial territories with maturity.

Libra Rising - Saturn in your seventh house of partnerships and relationships. Your one-on-one connections will be highlighted, and you'll be asked to consider the health and responsibility within them. You may face challenges in finding true reciprocity and give-and-take, with discussions around commitment and boundaries becoming intense. However, this is a time to build more committed and dependable partnerships. You'll learn to establish clearer boundaries and ensure your relationships are balanced. You'll seek long-term stability and won't be interested in casual connections, leading to deeper, more mature bonds.

Scorpio Rising - Saturn moves into your sixth house of health, daily routines, and service. You may feel pressure to restructure your daily life and become more disciplined with your health and routines, potentially involving addressing long-standing habits. Work responsibilities might increase, or you may face challenges in your work environment. This transit provides an opportunity to build healthier habits and a more organized daily life. You can become more efficient and productive in your work. It's a time to take responsibility for your well-being and establish sustainable routines that support your goals.

Saggiatrius Rising - will experience Saturn in your fifth house of creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle to find time for hobbies, dating, or creative pursuits, and your sexual energy may be lower. There could be delays or challenges related to children, and joy might feel risky, with creative expression feeling blocked or like hard work. However, Saturn in Aries encourages you to develop a more mature relationship with joy and creativity. You're asked to create and love without expecting instant gratification. This is a time to carve out dedicated time for what truly brings you fulfillment and to be disciplined in your creative endeavors, leading to more lasting and meaningful expressions.

Capricorn Rising - Saturn transits your fourth house of home, family, and foundations. You may face increased responsibilities within your family, potentially needing to care for aging family members or deal with structural issues in your home. Some Capricorns might move to a longer-term home, which could come with its own set of challenges. This transit helps you solidify your home base and family foundations. You can create a more stable and secure living environment. It's a time to embrace your responsibilities within your family, leading to a deeper sense of belonging and inner security.

Aquarius Rising - will have Saturn in your third house of communication, learning, and local community. Communication might feel like a battlefield, and you may struggle to express yourself without being too blunt or moving too fast. Relationships with siblings or neighbors could become sources of stress. You're being asked to pause before speaking and to listen more effectively. This is a period to refine your communication skills and take your mental health seriously. You'll become more assured in your educational, writing, and public speaking abilities, and you can form deeper connections within your local community by practicing thoughtful and disciplined communication.

Pisces Rising - For Pisces rising, Saturn moves into your second house of personal finances, values, and self-worth. You may feel a strong urge to get your finances in order, pay off debts, or improve your credit score. You might initially feel a sense of scarcity, even if you are earning well. This transit encourages you to reconsider your outlook on wealth and self-worth. This is a prosperous cycle for establishing financial security, but it requires discipline and a reevaluation of your values. You'll learn to manage your resources more effectively and develop a stronger sense of self-respect and self-worth, leading to long-term financial stability.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

@astrofaeology private services 2025 all rights reserved

[thebluester2020]

[RE4] Kinktober Day 11: "In Heat"

Summary: Livestock guardians were rare enough, and training them was no easy feat either. But...being in a bind, you decided to take your chances and adopt one! Only, you weren't warned that his heats would be so...intense.

Warning(s): Perv!Reader (She watches Leon fuck his pillow), Yearning(Leon wishes to fuck the reader but doesn't), Dog!Hyrbid Leon, Whiny! Leon, Begging, Masturbation (Both on the reader's and Leon's side obv), Thigh-fucking, Leon low-key being a horn dog.

Side Note(s): Lol I was going to do Lycaon (again) from ZZZ but— the fact I haven't dedicated any Kinktober days to my favorite baddie Leon Kennedy yet is blasphemous, so here I am <33

Searching for a good livestock guardian dog was hard.

Costs aside, training them and getting them used to the farm animals was no easy task. It took a lot of patience and practice over the years and even then? The dog wasn't promised to be absolutely perfect! In hindsight though, you knew you should've been on the lookout the second you had begun buying the necessary resources for your farm. After all, it seemed like just yesterday when you were still waiting for your house to be built, and now? You were only a month away from moving!

The clock was ticking, you needed a guardian dog and you needed one now. No training required.

Which was how you ended up where you are today, at a dog hybrid adoption center, located in the center of your small town. It was a homey place, plenty of space for the hybrids to wander around, and even a dedicated meeting area for them and their potential owners to get to know one another. At first, you felt almost...strange, for considering a hybrid for your farm.

They were called "hybrids" for a reason. They were human but...with animal features and some tendencies here and there, you probably wouldn't even have been here today if your friend hadn't convinced you to at least check it out and so far? You were having no more luck than you were shopping the market for a traditional dog.

"Do you have any hybrids that are good with livestock? Guarding, maybe?" You asked the front desk worker after another conversation with a hybrid cut short.

You weren't searching for a puppy, they had too much energy and you were certain that wouldn't bode well with the animals! An older dog would have been preferable. "Still no luck?" The woman said with an apologetic smile as she searched through the system.

You shook your head with a sigh. "I'm moving in a month, I want to hopefully find a dog today and bring him home soon so I can get him or her used to me."

The woman didn't respond for a beat or two, her eyes narrowed in focus as she searched and searched...until her eyes brightened and she turned the computer screen towards you. "Leon may be a good fit for you! His background is in government, very calm and dependable." As you looked at the picture, you were shocked that no one had picked him yet. good traits aside, he was handsome and you knew that there was a market for people who preferred to use their hybrids for lovers rather than pets.

Not that you planned to use him in that way of course.

"Is he available to talk now?" You asked.

"He will be tomorrow! We try to give our shyer residents more time to know when they want to be spoken to."

You nodded your head in understanding as the worker passed you a few documents to sign as well as choosing a time when you wanted to talk. You suddenly felt nervous, intimidated even! When you looked at Leon Kennedy's profile, he appeared dangerous and you weren't just talking about the deadly scowl on his face nor the fact that he was a Malinois hybrid. His eyes were a deep baby blue, combined with his dirty blonde hair and his hardened features as well as his muscular frame.

You weren't able to deny that he was handsome.

But...you could worry about keeping your mind out of the gutter once you talked with him.

. . .

The next day came by quick. The second you woke up, you were already getting ready to meet with your potential hybrid and you wanted to make a good first impression! You donned a cute but professional style and even took the time to bring gifts as well as had photos of your current apartment and new home already saved to your phone. You wanted to make sure all your cards lined up to having Leon accept you as his owner.

And...you thought you were doing good so far, hopefully. As you currently sat in front of him, his expression was unreadable as his eyes flicked from the photos of your home that you had given him as well as the treat basket you brought along with you.

"You want me as a livestock guardian?" He questioned.

"Yes!" You chirped. "The animals aren't there yet but they will be pretty soon, about a week or two after I move in."

When he didn't respond, you added on a question. "Are you...good with livestock?"

He slowly nodded his head. "I can learn, it can't be any harder than guarding people."

"Your profile mentioned you were in the government. What did you do?"

"Classified missions." He curtly responded.

"...Like?"

He scoffed at your pushiness. "The word classified is there for a reason."

"Seeing as you're still so loyal, you must've been a good one." You complimented. You tried to withhold a chuckle at the sound of Leon's tail thumping against his chair. "Why did you leave?"

"I—" You tilted your head when he paused, the sight of his cheeks beginning to tint pink a little also making your suspicions go up before his shoulders eventually slumped and he sighed. "It's not important, I was simply no longer fit for the missions they were assigning me." His ears flattened at the memory of him being dismissed. For the last few years since that day, he tried to convince himself that it was for the best but...he was used to being active, constantly on the move and doing things. Trading that lifestyle for a quiet and inactive one here in the shelter?

Although the place was nice, it wasn't for him!

Life on a farm could give him some movement, some purpose again.

"Well, I think you'll be a perfect fit for my farm! If you want to actually come with me that is."

Leon looked you up and down, you appeared hard-working and stern. But kind and gentle, it also helped that you were a pretty thing to look at. After being in the government for so long, so many missions where he'd seen the most unimaginable horrors that no normal person should ever see...it was nice to know that he'd be able to look at you all day, working for you.

So, he nodded his head, his tail once again beginning to wag at the sight of your smile.

You grinned. "We'll get along just fine, you and me!"

. . .

And get along fine, the both of you did.

It turns out that there was a reason why Leon wasn't adopted. His ruts were insatiable.

A week after adopting him, you and he had spent the entire time decorating the room you had dedicated to him! You had learned that before he worked for the government, he used to be a guard cop (the puppy photos he had shown you were absolutely adorable might you add) and he was a fan of old-school music groups. You had struck gold with him, you thought. He was a hard worker and was relatively quiet! Although his jokes were a little dry and he had so many cop one-liners that you couldn't even begin to count them all.

You liked Leon.

And that like towards him...you wouldn't deny that it began to inch towards a more romantic direction, especially after what you were currently witnessing tonight.

"F-Fuck..." Through the crack of Leon's door, he was currently rutting against his pillow feverishly. It was bunched up underneath him, his claws threatening to tear the sheets underneath him with how hard he was rutting his dick back and forth on the pillow.

You should've turned away, you should've ignored that ache that started to build up in the pit of your stomach. It was inappropriate of you to watch him like some type of pervert! And you almost did until...you heard your name. "Y-Y/N..." Leon panted out, you could see the light of the moon shine on the hint of drool that began to dribble out the side of his mouth. He sucked in his bottom lip as he threw his head back with a low growl. "Fucking cute owner..." He whined. "I-If only you would help me..." His words were so whispered that you almost missed it.

The ache in your panties was growing near unbearable, and even as every rational part of your brain told you to keep your hand away from your throbbing clit, to go back to bed and act like you hadn't seen or heard anything. You continued to stay, soon clasping a hand around your mouth in order to withhold the moan that threatened to escape from your lips. Especially as your fingers began to circle around your clit, the aching growing more and more by the second as you continued to listen in on Leon's moans.

"Fucking hell—" Suddenly Leon pushed the pillow away from him before he sat on the bed, his hand quickly rushing to his cock as he started to fist his length, the slick sounds of his hand moving along his cock aiding in your own masturbation as you began to finger yourself to the pace of his hand movements.

And in the process, you imagined what his cock would feel like inside your sex. You imagined the veins along his cock rubbing against your inner walls, the sound of his rough growls against your ear whilst the lewd sounds of his pelvis meeting your ass rang throughout the air. "Y' like that owner?" You heard Leon mutter to himself before his curses steadily turned into moans.

You could tell he was close by the way he began to buck into his own hand, causing you to speed up your own ministrations as it quickly became a struggle to withhold your moans. Until a squeak accidentally escaped your lips, and Leon's ear flicked to the door before his pants began to slowly come to a stop.

Yet his hand didn't. "Naughty girl..." Leon said in your direction.

You quickly tore your hand from your underwear with a gasp, but before you could walk away. Leon stopped you with a sharp growl. "Leaving so soon after watching me fuck my own hand? And while you were flicking your clit." He snapped. "Get in here and help me out!" He ordered.

You hesitated for another moment or two before you slowly inched the door open with an embarrassed blush on your face. However, your hybrid had little concern for your embarrassment at the moment before he suddenly rose to his feet and grabbed ahold of your arm, and forced you to sit on the bed. His eyes were trained on you as he then pushed you gently to lay on your back whilst he lifted your legs.

You softly moaned at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your ass briefly before he took your chin into his hand. "...Can I?"

You heard the desperation in his voice and how hard he was trying to reel it in. "I just wanna fuck your thighs, promise. Nothing else, just that." He assured you, his hips unconsciously bucking against the back of your thighs. And the second you nodded your head "yes", he let out a deep moan when he finally pushed himself between your plush thighs. "Been thinkin' 'bout this for a week..." He began to babble.

"You and this sexy body," He moaned. "Made my rut come early..." You whined when his hand began to feel up and down your body, all before his hand began to rub at your clit. "Clearly you've been thinkin' about me too, huh?"

You nodded shamelessly. "T-Tried not to..." You admitted with a whisper. "Didn't—oh...—want to make you uncomfortable..."

"With having a slutty owner who likes the idea of her personal dog fucking her needy cunt? Oh no baby, quite the opposite..." Then he leaned down to press his soft lips against your own, the feeling of your lips on his own after so many previous nights of imagining them on his cock...he couldn't help but begin to fuck your thighs with more fervor. "Couldn't get you out of my mind." He mumbled against your lips.

Leon's other large hand then left your waist to begin fondling your breasts, taking more care to give one of them more attention than the other as he began to flick your nipple. Leon's body was practically molding with your own body as he continued to kiss you, his technique becoming more sloppy along with his thrusts. "C-Close..." He whispered, tearing his lips from your own when you lightly smacked him for air.

You moaned. "M-Me too." You responded, a needy whine leaving your lips when he began to speed up his rapid flicking of your clit. Your increased moans and whines were going straight to his cock, nothing but lust and adoration for you as both his owner and the woman he now wanted to breed coursing through his veins as he felt your pussy twitch as his cock rubbed against it. "Cumming!" You just barely managed to get out before your eyes slammed shut and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Leon wasn't too far behind as a string of curses fell from his lips, his hips bucking against your ass a few more times before he stilled and you felt strings of his hot cum shoot out and onto your stomach and chest. The two of you breathed heavily, the lust in the air hot and unignorable as you both came down from your highs. With a shakey moan, however, Leon slipped from your thighs as he looked over you.

Already he could feel himself getting hard. Something that you quickly took notice of. "A-Already...?" You said tiredly.

He nodded his head, his tail beginning to wag eagerly as he gently began to part your legs. "You're the reason why my rut started early...take responsibility."

It seemed you were in for an even longer night further taking care of your new hybrid...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI’s “human in the loop” isn’t

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

AI's ability to make – or assist with – important decisions is fraught: on the one hand, AI can often classify things very well, at a speed and scale that outstrips the ability of any reasonably resourced group of humans. On the other hand, AI is sometimes very wrong, in ways that can be terribly harmful.

Bureaucracies and the AI pitchmen who hope to sell them algorithms are very excited about the cost-savings they could realize if algorithms could be turned loose on thorny, labor-intensive processes. Some of these are relatively low-stakes and make for an easy call: Brewster Kahle recently told me about the Internet Archive's project to scan a ton of journals on microfiche they bought as a library discard. It's pretty easy to have a high-res scanner auto-detect the positions of each page on the fiche and to run the text through OCR, but a human would still need to go through all those pages, marking the first and last page of each journal and identifying the table of contents and indexing it to the scanned pages. This is something AI apparently does very well, and instead of scrolling through endless pages, the Archive's human operator now just checks whether the first/last/index pages the AI identified are the right ones. A project that could have taken years is being tackled with never-seen swiftness.

The operator checking those fiche indices is something AI people like to call a "human in the loop" – a human operator who assesses each judgment made by the AI and overrides it should the AI have made a mistake. "Humans in the loop" present a tantalizing solution to algorithmic misfires, bias, and unexpected errors, and so "we'll put a human in the loop" is the cure-all response to any objection to putting an imperfect AI in charge of a high-stakes application.

But it's not just AIs that are imperfect. Humans are wildly imperfect, and one thing they turn out to be very bad at is supervising AIs. In a 2022 paper for Computer Law & Security Review, the mathematician and public policy expert Ben Green investigates the empirical limits on human oversight of algorithms:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3921216

Green situates public sector algorithms as the latest salvo in an age-old battle in public enforcement. Bureaucracies have two conflicting, irreconcilable imperatives: on the one hand, they want to be fair, and treat everyone the same. On the other hand, they want to exercise discretion, and take account of individual circumstances when administering justice. There's no way to do both of these things at the same time, obviously.

But algorithmic decision tools, overseen by humans, seem to hold out the possibility of doing the impossible and having both objective fairness and subjective discretion. Because it is grounded in computable mathematics, an algorithm is said to be "objective": given two equivalent reports of a parent who may be neglectful, the algorithm will make the same recommendation as to whether to take their children away. But because those recommendations are then reviewed by a human in the loop, there's a chance to take account of special circumstances that the algorithm missed. Finally, a cake that can be both had, and eaten!

For the paper, Green reviewed a long list of policies – local, national, and supra-national – for putting humans in the loop and found several common ways of mandating human oversight of AI.

First, policies specify that algorithms must have human oversight. Many jurisdictions set out long lists of decisions that must be reviewed by human beings, banning "fire and forget" systems that chug along in the background, blithely making consequential decisions without anyone ever reviewing them.

Second, policies specify that humans can exercise discretion when they override the AI. They aren't just there to catch instances in which the AI misinterprets a rule, but rather to apply human judgment to the rules' applications.

Next, policies require human oversight to be "meaningful" – to be more than a rubber stamp. For high-stakes decisions, a human has to do a thorough review of the AI's inputs and output before greenlighting it.

Finally, policies specify that humans can override the AI. This is key: we've all encountered instances in which "computer says no" and the hapless person operating the computer just shrugs their shoulders apologetically. Nothing I can do, sorry!

All of this sounds good, but unfortunately, it doesn't work. The question of how humans in the loop actually behave has been thoroughly studied, published in peer-reviewed, reputable journals, and replicated by other researchers. The measures for using humans to prevent algorithmic harms represent theories, and those theories are testable, and they have been tested, and they are wrong.

For example, people (including experts) are highly susceptible to "automation bias." They defer to automated systems, even when those systems produce outputs that conflict with their own expert experience and knowledge. A study of London cops found that they "overwhelmingly overestimated the credibility" of facial recognition and assessed its accuracy at 300% better than its actual performance.

Experts who are put in charge of overseeing an automated system get out of practice, because they no longer engage in the routine steps that lead up to the conclusion. Presented with conclusions, rather than problems to solve, experts lose the facility and familiarity with how all the factors that need to be weighed to produce a conclusion fit together. Far from being the easiest step of coming to a decision, reviewing the final step of that decision without doing the underlying work can be much harder to do reliably.

Worse: when algorithms are made "transparent" by presenting their chain of reasoning to expert reviewers, those reviewers become more deferential to the algorithm's conclusion, not less – after all, now the expert has to review not just one final conclusion, but several sub-conclusions.

Even worse: when humans do exercise discretion to override an algorithm, it's often to inject the very bias that the algorithm is there to prevent. Sure, the algorithm might give the same recommendation about two similar parents who are facing having their children taken away, but the judge who reviews the recommendations is more likely to override it for a white parent than for a Black one.

Humans in the loop experience "a diminished sense of control, responsibility, and moral agency." That means that they feel less able to override an algorithm – and they feel less morally culpable when they sit by and let the algorithm do its thing.

All of these effects are persistent even when people know about them, are trained to avoid them, and are given explicit instructions to do so. Remember, the whole reason to introduce AI is because of human imperfection. Designing an AI to correct human imperfection that only works when its human overseer is perfect produces predictably bad outcomes.

As Green writes, putting an AI in charge of a high-stakes decision, and using humans in the loop to prevent its harms, produces a "perverse effect": "alleviating scrutiny of government algorithms without actually addressing the underlying concerns." The human in the loop creates "a false sense of security" that sees algorithms deployed for high-stakes domains, and it shifts the responsibility for algorithmic failures to the human, creating what Dan Davies calls an "accountability sink":

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

The human in the loop is a false promise, a "salve that enables governments to obtain the benefits of algorithms without incurring the associated harms."

So why are we still talking about how AI is going to replace government and corporate bureaucracies, making decisions at machine speed, overseen by humans in the loop?

Well, what if the accountability sink is a feature and not a bug. What if governments, under enormous pressure to cut costs, figure out how to also cut corners, at the expense of people with very little social capital, and blame it all on human operators? The operators become, in the phrase of Madeleine Clare Elish, "moral crumple zones":

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

As Green writes:

The emphasis on human oversight as a protective mechanism allows governments and vendors to have it both ways: they can promote an algorithm by proclaiming how its capabilities exceed those of humans, while simultaneously defending the algorithm and those responsible for it from scrutiny by pointing to the security (supposedly) provided by human oversight.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/30/a-neck-in-a-noose/#is-also-a-human-in-the-loop

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en ==

[technofeudalism]

What's New Experts are warning of a looming increase in grocery prices as agricultural soil becomes increasingly unproductive. In a concerning trend that could impact households across the globe, the combination of overfarming, climate change and insufficient sustainable practices has left vast swaths of farmland degraded and unproductive, threatening food supply chains and driving up costs. The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimates that 33 percent of the Earth's soils are already degraded and more than 90 percent could become degraded by 2050. Why It Matters According to the FAO, soil erosion "occurs naturally under all climatic conditions and on all continents, but it is significantly increased and accelerated by unsustainable human activities (up to 1,000 times) through intensive agriculture, deforestation, overgrazing and improper land use changes. "Soil erosion rates are much higher than soil formation rates," the FAO said. "Soil is a finite resource, meaning its loss and degradation is not recoverable within a human lifespan." A map previously published by Newsweek predicts that 95 percent of America's soil will be degraded in less than 30 years. Only a 5 percent area is marked not degraded.

i absolutely love (/s) how this story is being framed as further price inflation and economic woes being the primary thing to worry about. the worst part of barren food stores isn't related to high prices.

the soil of our earth, our home planet, is dying/being killed by industrial agriculture, and as such we are now struggling to produce food. what this describes is imminent global famine within most of our lifetimes (~30yrs). sticker shock is not the biggest threat. that award goes to malnutrition and starvation.

it's possible to recover from this. but the solutions involved cost money and also winds up reducing overall crop yield, so many farmers aren’t going to pursue these solutions as frequently because they just aren’t feasible. the biggest concern for the average farmer is economic viability. point blank.

thus, any efforts at taking even baby steps to solve this problem will require centralized governments, particularly in the west, to enact direct, formative changes. unfortunately, all of them happen to be collapsing at this very moment. so... hang on tight, i suppose.