#union heights

[snappingthewalls]

[mispatchedgreens]

wrist? limp. canine? crooked. boy? acquired

[genlosscharliie]

Your Kazakh SSR design is so so cute… any chance of other SSR kid designs?

for you, anon: the main four and also the only ones i can imagine being soviet’s kids in any context, in winter gear (& some bits from their cultures). this is completely contradictory to my hcs but they turned out somewhat cute. i considered adding east germany & north korea to this but got tired before i could incorporate them into it

[keepscrollinghun]

[bopinion]

2024 / 30

Aperçu of the week

"Let me tell you something that we Israelis have against Moses. He took us 40 years through the desert in order to bring us to the one spot in the Middle East that has no oil!"

(Golda Meir, Prime Minister of Israel from 1969 and one of the first female heads of government in the world)

Bad News of the Week

"Escalation in the Middle East conflict" - this headline is no longer followed by a question mark, but by an exclamation mark. For one thing, one or even several escalations are taking place and for another, these are no longer limited to Gaza. The attack on the Golan Heights, allegedly carried out by Hezbollah and resulting in around a dozen deaths, could unleash a momentum that could trigger the feared conflagration.

The Golan Heights, wedged between Israel, Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, have always been an insecure region. Actually Syrian territory, the strip of land was conquered, occupied and effectively depopulated by Israel in the 1967 Six-Day War. Almost 125,000 Syrians were displaced. Today, around 25,000 Israeli (militant) settlers and 23,000 Druze live there. And now the Druze have had to accept the death of children who have done nothing but play soccer.

This attack has a new quality. Or was it a tragically misguided missile that nobody wants to admit to? For the first time, neither military nor infrastructural targets were in the vicinity. For the first time, a nation that has so far kept out of the conflict has been hit. The Israelis, who see the region as their territory, will strike back. The only question is how drastically. After all, Hezbollah is nothing other than the extended arm of Iran, which defines Israel as its mortal enemy.

The first governments have already called on their citizens to leave Lebanon, the southern part of which is under the control of Hezbollah. The official government of the failed state is calling on all parties involved to show moderation, but has no say in the matter. I already know that UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres will not be the only peace-loving person to light a candle. Because the bomb is ticking.

Good News of the Week

Kamala Harris. That's it. You don't really need to say any more. The mere fact that it seems possible that a woman of color who is competent, liberal and democratic could take the helm of the (still) greatest nation on earth is good news. "Is America ready for a woman - or just a misogynist?" asks the leading German news magazine Der Spiegel. Journalist Ulrike Knöfel explains: "When it comes to potential presidential candidate Kamala Harris, people often ask whether she can make it as a black woman. The right question is whether the USA can manage to choose a qualified woman."

That is the point. The one that goes beyond ethnicity. Only in the last few days have I learned the term "DEI" - which stands for diversity, equity, and inclusion. Very positive, important terms. Which Harris is nevertheless being labeled with malice by Republicans. But I already didn't understand why "woke" has actually become a derogatory word, almost an insult. After all, it means awake, alert, attentive. Then I like being woke. And sleep much better when I know Harris is in the Oval Office. And not the ridiculous misanthrope Donald Jessica Trump. Spot the difference!

Personal happy moment of the week

We actually wanted to go to a museum on Sunday. To the Museum of Fantasy on Lake Starnberg, to be precise. With friends. But instead, we had a pretty good breakfast in the museum café, had a lengthy exchange about living with teenagers with laughter and tears and then went for a walk when the sun came out. Also good.

I couldn't care less...

...over 400 meters freestyle swimming, barre gymnastics and field hockey. Normally. Because with the Summer Olympics currently taking place in Paris (with a remarkably creative opening ceremony, by the way), I'm suddenly interested. It must be the Olympic spirit...

It's fine with me...

...that the current US executive branch is planning to reform the US judiciary. After all, the current Supreme Court has made every effort to ensure that the need for term limits or a code of conduct has become obvious.

As I write this...

...I discover the "100 best albums of all times" on Apple Music. Not according to sales figures (even if that might be the case for Michael Jackson's "Thriller" or Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon"), but curated by a music editorial team and artists themselves. Of course I know famous standards such as "Pet Sounds" by The Beach Boys, "My life" by Mary J. Blige or "Back in Black" by AC/DC. But also "Blue Lines" by Massive Attack, "I put a spell on you" by Nina Simone or "The Miseducation of..." by Lauryn Hill (at number 1!), which I like to listen to again when I get the chance. I miss other albums on the list, such as "Imagine" by John Lennon, "Play" by Moby or the soundtracks to The Blues Brothers or West Side Story. And artists like Bill Withers, Peter Gabriel, Sting, Billy Joel - or Elvis. But tastes are different, and that's a good thing. But above all, it's nice to discover new artists: Robyn, for example, is obviously not my thing, but I think Erykah Badu is great. Music is simply something wonderful.

Post Scriptum

The EU reached an agreement in the spring and now the money is flowing: 1.5 billion euros from the interest earned on frozen Russian state assets is to go to Ukraine - for defense and reconstruction. EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen commented: "There is no better symbol or use for the Kremlin's money than to make Ukraine and the whole of Europe a safer place to live". Significantly more money will come if Putin does not come to his senses. So I agree.

[ok4ru]

Okay, how tall do ya’ll think Luxu is? I think they’re 5’5!

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Don't worry," Dorian assured her with a smile. "I've, uh...I've already taken the liberty of...filling him in on the plan."

Honestly, even if he hadn't, Beau-clever, observant Beau-would have figured it out in no time, he was sure. The head butler of the Gracey family, in many ways, knew Dorian better than he knew himself (and considering how long he'd known Dorian, how much time they'd spent together as the young master grew up, he should), and so when Dorian's attitude went from somber and quiet to bright and excited, he immediately knew something was afoot.

"Granted, he doesn't know all the details," he admitted with a small shrug. "He doesn't know about your time travel, or our afterlives as ghosts, haunting the manor, for instance...but he does know about our plan to escape with Lizzie and Randall, and he was very keen to help in any way he can, as well as come along when I asked. Lizzie's going to talk to her mother this afternoon, and hopefully, she'll be joining us."

It thrilled him to know that Beau would be coming with them-honestly, he couldn't imagine starting a new life in California without the man he considered more of a father figure than his own father, nor could he imagine the lives of his and Elizabeth's future children being without Beau, who wouldn't be a butler in their new home, but instead a part of the family, as he always was in Dorian's eyes (even if his parents thought otherwise).

[fooltofancy]

ilya/urianger, why is it bad?

ilya understands, at best, three out of ten words that come out of urianger's mouth, which i guess depending on what you're looking for in a relationship wouldn't matter THAT much.

not for ilya, anyway. but i would be concerned for urianger lmao.

[tonguesofdestruction]

M’era Luna 2023 mit kompletten Line-Up

M’era Luna 2023 mit kompletten Line-Up

Das Festival M’era Luna 2023 kommt nun mit kompletten Line-Up daher. Vom 12. August bis 13. August 2023 öffnet das Ereignis wieder seine Pforten auf dem Flugplatz Drispenstedt in Hildesheim. Erneut werden dann rund 25.000 Besucher und Besucherinnen aus der ganzen Welt die Festivalzeit dort verbringen.. Erst kürzlich gaben die Veranstalter FKScorpio nun mit VV (Ville Valo/HIM) und Within…

[gigijb1969]

2024 SystemsGo Rocket Launch Event Preparations for White Sands Missile Range

The SystemsGo team left Fredericksburg in two shifts, one at 5:30 a.m. and the second at 9:15 a.m. this morning headed to Alamogordo,, New Merxico for lodging for White Sands Missile Range (WSMR) rocket launches. Schools from Union Grove, Alamo Heights and Brazoswood also traveled to Alamogordo today to meet and begin preparations for launches this Saturday The early crew, Rebekah Hyatt, George…

[palant1r]

im sorry but the reveal that chilchuck is only there because he was paid in advance is so fucking funny. because like. he stays on the adventure WELL beyond what i would consider the reasonable expectations of his contract. but chilchuck will Follow his Professional Obligations right up to the letter and not a step further. we goof on him a lot for (rightfully!) putting Himself before Work and being a union man but lets be real mans is dedicated to his fucking job and obviously takes it very seriously.

ok i was gonna make a joke but honestly i think this is such a refreshing take on work and labor. like, in a lot of fiction, someone taking breaks, refusing to go beyond their obligations, and insisting on payment upfront is used as shorthand for them not taking their work seriously or not caring or cutting corners. but like. a responsible work life balance is absolutely essential for anyone who actually genuinely cares about their work. it's the only way to stay productive and healthy in a field you love.

its just. man. dungeon meshi has so much to say about life and passion. about health. about how taking care of yourself and pushing yourself to your greatest heights, either personally or professionally, are not two choices in conflict but essential to each other.

what was this post about again

[snappingthewalls]

[opencommunion]

"The story of  'John Doe 1' of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is tucked in a lawsuit filed five years ago against several U.S. tech companies, including Tesla, the world’s largest electric vehicle producer. In a country where the earth hides its treasures beneath its surface, those who chip away at its bounty pay an unfair price. As a pre-teen, his family could no longer afford to pay his $6 monthly school fee, leaving him with one option: a life working underground in a tunnel, digging for cobalt rocks.  But soon after he began working for roughly two U.S. dollars per day, the child was buried alive under the rubble of a collapsed mine tunnel. His body was never recovered. 

The nation, fractured by war, disease, and famine, has seen more than 6 million people die since the mid-1990s, making the conflict the deadliest since World War II. But, in recent years, the death and destruction have been aided by the growing number of electric vehicles humming down American streets. In 2022, the U.S., the world’s third-largest importer of cobalt, spent nearly $525 million on the mineral, much of which came from the Congo.

As America’s dependence on the Congo has grown, Black-led labor and environmental organizers here in the U.S. have worked to build a transnational solidarity movement. Activists also say that the inequities faced in the Congo relate to those that Black Americans experience. And thanks in part to social media, the desire to better understand what’s happening in the Congo has grown in the past 10 years. In some ways, the Black Lives Matter movement first took root in the Congo after the uprising in Ferguson in 2014, advocates say. And since the murder of George Floyd and the outrage over the Gaza war, there has been an uptick in Congolese and Black American groups working on solidarity campaigns.

Throughout it all, the inequities faced by Congolese people and Black Americans show how the supply chain highlights similar patterns of exploitation and disenfranchisement. ... While the American South has picked up about two-thirds of the electric vehicle production jobs, Black workers there are more likely to work in non-unionized warehouses, receiving less pay and protections. The White House has also failed to share data that definitively proves whether Black workers are receiving these jobs, rather than them just being placed near Black communities. 'Automakers are moving their EV manufacturing and operations to the South in hopes of exploiting low labor costs and making higher profits,' explained Yterenickia Bell, an at-large council member in Clarkston, Georgia, last year. While Georgia has been targeted for investment by the Biden administration, workers are 'refusing to stand idly by and let them repeat a cycle that harms Black communities and working families.'

... Of the 255,000 Congolese mining for cobalt, 40,000 are children. They are not only exposed to physical threats but environmental ones. Cobalt mining pollutes critical water sources, plus the air and land. It is linked to respiratory illnesses, food insecurity, and violence. Still, in March, a U.S. court ruled on the case, finding that American companies could not be held liable for child labor in the Congo, even as they helped intensify the prevalence. ... Recently, the push for mining in the Congo has reached new heights because of a rift in China-U.S. relations regarding EV production. Earlier this month, the Biden administration issued a 100% tariff on Chinese-produced EVs to deter their purchase in the U.S. Currently, China owns about 80% of the legal mines in the Congo, but tens of thousands of Congolese work in 'artisanal' mines outside these facilities, where there are no rules or regulations, and where the U.S. gets much of its cobalt imports.  'Cobalt mining is the slave farm perfected,' wrote Siddharth Kara last year in the award-winning investigative book Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives. 'It is a system of absolute exploitation for absolute profit.' While it is the world’s richest country in terms of wealth from natural resources, Congo is among the poorest in terms of life outcomes. Of the 201 countries recognized by the World Bank Group, it has the 191st lowest life expectancy."

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed. 

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before. 

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

[zot3-flopped]

You've gotta laugh at these dummies. An anon on letdown says she sold her Wembley tickets to Harry, she cannot stand how he copies Freddie Mercury. She's now decided to choose Niall, you know, who copies Harry, every day.

All these super sensitive types deifying Freddie Mercury makes me smile, considering Queen did this:

October 1984

Queen scheduled 12 performances in Bophuthatswana, South Africa, at the Sun City Super Bowl in October 1984. Due to the apartheid policy of South Africa, the United Nations requested entertainers to boycott the country and Britain's Musicians' Union banned any of its members from performing in Sun City.

[bopinion]

2024 / 14

Aperçu of the Week:

"If everyone wanted to help each other, everyone would be helped."

(Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, Austrian poet and psychologist in the 19th century)

Bad News of the Week:

The whole world fears for the well-being of the Palestinian civilian population in Gaza. Except Israel. The whole world is worried about the local conflict escalating into a full scale Middle East war. Except Israel. Lately, when someone asks me if I've heard "that" from Israel, I have to answer "what do you mean?". Because, as sarcastic as it sounds, there is something to tear your hair out about almost every day.

Take the example of the civilian population in Gaza. The circumstances that led to the deaths of seven World Central Kitchen employees clearly show that the Israeli military deliberately makes no distinction as to who or what it bombs. According to the motto: anyone who is not with us is against us. The fact that there are, of course, many more differentiated positions does not matter.

Take the example of the Middle East conflict. There is open talk of military operations across the country's northern border, i.e. on Lebanese territory. Regardless of the fact that Hezbollah can do whatever it wants in this failed state, Lebanon is a sovereign state. Incidentally, it currently has the highest proportion of refugees in the total population of any country in the world. But so was Syria when Israel effectively annexed the Golan Heights in the "Six-Day War" in 1967 (!). This is still the status quo after almost 60 years. The fact that this is almost universally not recognized by the international community does not matter.

As a German, I'm asked more and more often how Germany justifies being Israel's largest arms supplier after the USA, when these weapons are obviously not only used for defense (which Israel of course sees differently). The justification is simple: historical guilt. And this apparently prevents us from seeing what we don't want to see. Yes, the world would be easier to understand if we could divide it into black and white. That might still be possible with Israel and Iran. But not with Israel and Palestine.

PS: Next week I'll complain about something else - I promise!

Good News of the Week:

Following the successful agreement between the unions and our national train company Deutsche Bahn, there has now been arbitration achieved at the airports and our national air carrier Lufthansa. It should be noted that both will cost a lot of money. Both the generous wage increases and the compensation for reduced working hours through additional staff are expensive. And they will not be covered by coffee money, but by hefty price increases for the customers who (have to) use these means of transportation - in other words, all of us. At least I don't know anyone outside the vacation season who travels for fun but has to get between A and B somehow. Beam me up, Scotty!

Nevertheless, it is good to see that there is now a reasonably solid planning security again. And I'm not just talking about the usual commuters to work, of which I am one. But the logistics themselves. Of people and goods. After all, what I've seen in my environment alone in terms of missed meetings and broken supply chains is also a cost factor. If projects cannot be continued and production comes to a standstill, that costs money. Money from all of us. And very few of us have been asked if we agree. Not to be misunderstood: I don't want to question the great good of the right to strike. However, I am of the opinion that the proportionality of the means must not be lost sight of.

Personal happy moment of the week:

It was a summer weekend at the weekend - with temperatures of almost 30 degrees Celsius in southern Germany. We took advantage of this to kick off the cycling season. Of course, we started with a harmless route that we already knew, and of course to a nice country inn that we also already knew. And we were not disappointed. That will comfort us when the temperatures now drop back down to 2 degrees and it rains. Just a normal April. Good too. And nature is happy.

As I write this...

...I am delighted that we may soon have a fiber connection at home. It makes perfect sense for a household with adults working from the home office and teenagers on the internet. Especially if we usually stream music during the day and a series or movie in the evening. I find this astonishing because we live in a village with a maximum of 200 inhabitants. I hardly think that's profitable. It's more likely to be categorized as an infrastructural measure that a municipality implements for its population. It's nice that in this country we don't always just look at the money.

Post Scriptum

Employers' President Rainer Dulger is stunned by the German government's planned "Pension Package II", because it "now wants to massively increase pension spending once again, even though we are facing the biggest ageing spurt ever seen in Germany". Sounds logical. Especially because the pension system has long been financed not only by the contributions of the working population, but increasingly by subsidies from the tax pot. If fewer and fewer people are working and paying tax, while society is (over)ageing at the same time, this creates a gap. Who should pay for this? Especially when the burden of taxes and contributions is already so high - and not just by international standards?

On the other hand, many pensioners are already living at the limits of what is feasible in view of the constantly rising cost of living. In many cases, it is no longer possible to speak of "living", but rather of "existing". That is sad. Unfortunately, it is no bad joke that some people buy dog food without being able to afford a dog. It must be the task of every society to care for its weak, young and old when they can not do so themselves. Especially if they have done the best they can. But a woman, for example, who has raised several children and then cared for her sick parents is not taken into account by the system. After all, she has never paid into the system - at least not in monetary terms. Old-age poverty is an ugly word. But it is increasingly becoming the bitter reality.