#hutmentality

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Twenty

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, lots of violence, some of it graphic, blood, p n v, some dirty talk

A/N: Here it is, folks. The big one.

Perhaps it was fate, or some divine coincidence, that the worst sandstorm in recent memory happened to transpire on the wedding day of the Emperor's eldest daughter. You couldn't help but consider it as approval from the universe, that the fabrics of your world were convening to grant you success. And so, with thinly veiled delight, you watch the wedding guests descend from the sky in their lavish ships, framed by the whorls of sand and storm beyond the Shield Wall.

The storm was a perfect cover for your attack. You had planned it all down to the most finite detail -- the moment the storm arrived, Fremen soldiers would take out the noses of the Emperor's defense convoy, rendering them useless, and then Gurney would shortly after deploy the Atreides family explosives to break open the Wall like an overcooked egg.

"It's not truly an act of nuclear warfare against one of the Houses," Feyd pointed out in the midst of battle strategy, sensing your hesitance. The last thing you wanted was to incite a universe-wide war.

Nerves tremor just beneath your skin. Using your oil lens binoculars, you observe the last of the wedding guests filtering into the Emperor's Hutment, an impressive, pyramid-shape structure that contains legion of Sardaukar. You hoped to interrupt the whole affair before the marriage could be made official, for Irulan's sake. Although she had been the leading force behind the disruption of your failed coup, you still wanted to spare the golden-haired princess from your brother-in-law's beastliness.

Beside you, your husband remains perfectly still. You know from the small flicker of muscle under his eye that he's less than pleased about the next part of your plan -- at your signal, the Fremen would summon the sandworms and lead you into battle. "They're too large and unpredictable," he tried to argue before. You suspected that he just hated relinquishing control to them. Glancing at Feyd from the corner of your eye, you needle your elbow into his side.

"Remember our wedding?"

Truthfully, it hadn't been that long ago, though it felt like centuries had since passed.

"Of course," he replies, dark gaze sliding to you.

"A lot has changed."

"I disagree."

You let your amusement color your voice. "How so?"

"We're still together, still exacting revenge against our enemies." Feyd's attention returns towards the distance, but his fingers brush over yours. "Only the circumstances have changed. But never my devotion to you."

"A comforting thought," you sigh.

"Whatever happens today, you do not face it alone. You'll never face anything alone again."

Proper etiquette be damned, you capture his hand and give it a squeeze. If the Fremen wanted to complain about the affection between their commanding officers, then you would answer. They still didn't trust you anyway, so what did it matter? The ghost of a smile forms on Feyd's lips.

Just then, a voice crackles in your earpiece. "Storm is predicated to arrive in approximately five minutes." Stilgar. He was part of your forces laying in the sand. Waiting.

Above the howling wind, you swear you hear the notes of a wedding march. There's not much you can make sense of, however, especially when the storm finally does encroach upon you. You're decked in protective gear and safety goggles, but they do little to deter the whirl of sand and tiny pebbles scraping over the exposed skin of your face not covered by fabric. The storm consumes you, envelops you completely. You signal to the Fremen and moments later, in your earpiece, you hear them confirm that they've taken out the noses of the Starship Lighter and it's convoy.

"Gurney," you say, raising your voice.

At the Shield Wall there's a fleeting, pregnant pause as you wait for the explosives to ignore and, when they do, you're in awe at the display of power, blowing a hole in the Wall wide enough for your forces but not large enough to immediately garner attention. And certainly not with the storm raging, masking your efforts.

Overwhelmed by the sight and sheer weight of your intentions, the cry that leaves your throat is not any word but rather a rallying scream. It gets your point across all the same. Dum. Dum. Dum. Around you the Fremen summon the sandworms with carefully spaced thumpers, a heartbeat beneath the sand.

And then a thunderous rumbling joins the sand and the storm, and the sandworms crest over the dunes, answering the calls of the thumpers. Like the fins of shark slicing through rough waves, the sandworms announce their approach, and soon you're rising unsteadily to your feet and squashing the alarm in your head. You've never ridden a sandworm before, but you were thoroughly vetted by the others. Disbelief spirals in you as you burst into a sprint, arms pumping. You might as well have been running into the abyss. You can't see anything in the pummeling storm but you sense Feyd nearby. Without warning, the rumbling grows louder and the ground disappears beneath your feet and you've crossed the point of no return. You're flying, weightless, until the sandworm's segmented body rushes beneath you and you crash into it.

Distantly, you know that you need to grab hold of it before you fall. Gloved fingers scramble for purchase, but the rough skin slides away from you. You panic. You should've insisted upon practicing, you should've listened to Feyd --

A strong arm wraps around your middle, tucks you closer. Filled with relief, you manage to tilt your head up and catch Feyd's profile amidst the howling storm. He holds you tight.

The sandworm forges ahead, carries you over the shattered Wall. You manage to your feet as you pass the barrier, and notice several things all at once -- the Starship Lighter stalling, then the flight tiny black specks in the sky, Sardaukar transport ships.

"There's so many," you breathe. It looks like a swarm of flies over a corpse, attracted to the promise of violence and death.

On the ground, expertly dodging the path of the sandworms, Feyadkin slash through the Emperor's defenses. There's only a handful of his soldiers, a predecessor to Sardaukar ships, but you're proud to see the Fremen holding their own. It was clear from your time during field missions that they fought extremely well, but you had never seen it unfold at such a grand scale. Even with the surge of Sardaukar landing they never falter, pushing closer and closer to the Hutment.

"There's fights for us yet," Feyd yells over the cacophony of sound. You're both holding on for dear life as you're catapulted over the outskirts of Arrakeen.

You yell back, "I want to be down there with them!"

He nods but doesn't respond. Feyd is in rare form -- completely focused on the task at hand, every fiber of his being concentrated, tense, waiting to strike. It emboldens you. A jolt of adrenaline pulses through you, heady with the knowledge of your flawless execution. You would not fail this time. You had no other option.

The army of sandworms arc for the Hutment. Lasgun blasts ricochet off their tough outer shell. You brace yourself for the impact of the Hutment's flank, the rapid-fire sound of battle joining the terrible crunching of the worms through metal. Squeezing your eyes shut, you flinch as debris scatters, the soldiers within crying out in surprise. But you're unharmed. You exchange a glance with Feyd as you both disembark, weapons bared, sliding off the massive sides of the creatures and landing with a thud on the ground.

There's something sickeningly sweet about the release of energy, of months and months of pent-up anger. You waste no time launching towards the closest Sardaukar. It's a dance, really. You lead, aiming for his leg, then dancing back when he tries to overpower you. The feel of your blade slicing through his armor and into his abdomen shouldn't delight you as it does. Mind singing, thrilled, you remove the blade and whirl it on the next soldier. Bodies moving, pushing and pulling, the coppery smell of blood heavy in the air, all underscored by a symphony of blades and flesh. Despite yourself, you grin.

The plan is to forge a path to the main ceremony. You and the Fremen carve through the Sardaukar, artists in your own right, cutting through stone, through bone, years of injustice the instrument of your work, the brush in the hand of the master.

And at the center of it all, Feyd-Rautha.

The former na-Baron fends off his opponents with a preternatural grace, enacting his violence with deliberation. Blood splatters his alabaster skin. There's not one footstep that he misplaces, not a trace of hesitation, as if he anticipates each move of the Sardaukar before then can even decide it for themselves. Your chest swells with affection as you catch glimpses of him in the frenzy. You've never been more grateful to have him by your side, at your command.

Your blade finds the throat of an enemy, retracts, finds the heart of another. There's a faint protest in your muscles -- it's been too long since you've fought this intensely. If you ever had. No amount of training could prepare you for this slaughter.

As if sensing this, Feyd draws closer until you're back to back, his twin daggers slicing. His presence is like the warmth of the sun. There's no need for words. If he lunges, you feign; he cuts, and you thrust. It's quite romantic, how he handles this, not a lapse in faith but rather a reinforcement of your combined strength.

You strike out with your boot to the closest soldier, connecting with their solar plexus. He crumples and you've just reached out to slam the handle of your dagger into the back of his head when his companion snatches your wrists and twists viciously. You cry out. The dagger clatters to the ground. Without missing a beat, Feyd sweeps closer, bending nearly into a curtsey. You grab his thigh to steady yourself and lean back into him, lifting up your foot and kicking it into the soldier that unarmed you. He stumbles, surprised. Feyd dispatches his current opponent in a series of well-placed jabs, then spins you around to give you enough time to recover. You reclaim one of the fallen soldiers' weapons. While he takes care of that soldier, you attack the others flooding towards you.

You fight with everything in you. You're not only fighting for the Fremen but for yourself, your family.

When there's finally a lull, you catch Feyd snarling into the face of a Sardaukar before stabbing his blade into its eye. The man spits out a splash of blood, the collapses into his arms. Feyd, cradling the man like a sleeping child, murmurs something in his ear. He lays him down and once he's back to his normal height, flicks out a tongue to wipe away most of the blood from around his mouth. Noticing you watching, he flashes you a rare grin.

"Red is your color," you tell him. The Fremen fighters pick over the bodies, waiting for your command.

"It's a nice change." His are bright against the carnage on his face. "Are you ready to ruin a wedding, my jewel?"

The upper levels of the Hutment are mostly vacant. A team of Fremen clear the area and eliminate any lurking Sardaukar. Music swells as you climb. When you reach the enormous double doors at the topmost floor, there's a line of soldiers waiting for you.

You bristle. The soldiers aim their weapons. "Turn away now," one of them command, "and we won't kill you all."

"We didn't come all this way just to be frightened by you," a Fremen hisses in reply. The soldier fires a blast that strikes the Fremen in the shoulder. Anger flushes you. The rest of your army charges the soldiers at the door.

While they exuded confidence, it hardly took any time at all to have them all on the ground, either dead or moaning in pain.

Surely the ceremony had heard the fighting outside. The doors are fortified, but it only takes a few carefully placed shots from one of the soldiers' lasguns to blast it open. Metal creaks and slides across the floor, heralding your entrance. You step through the rubble.

As expected, it's a beautiful ceremony, dripping with elegance. There's swaths of white lace around the hall and candles flickering in the golden braziers. The guests are dressed in their finest, suits and expensive dresses rustling as they whirl around. And, at the far end of the hall, stand Rabban and Irulan. The sight of Irulan stuns you -- she looks ethereal in her white gown and intricate veil and headdress. Rabban, on the other hand, looks like a monster stuffed into a suit.

His face morphs into one of pure rage. "WHAT?"

You can't imagine how you all look, bloodied and sandy, tanned by months in the sun. Feyd steps to your side.

"Hello, brother. Uncle. I'm afraid that you forgot our invitations. We didn't want to miss out on such a...joyous occasion." Feyd dips his chin to Irulan like this is all incredibly normal. "You look beautiful."

Irulan stifles what you imagine is a smirk.

"What is this? What are you doing here?" From near the front of the guests, the Baron floats into the air, a menacing image in all black.

"We've come to take back what's rightfully ours," you reply.

"Guards --" the Baron begins to order, but he's interrupted by the man at his feet.

"Stand down."

The Emperor doesn't look at all like the oil paintings you've seen of him. He's surprisingly small, hunched over like he's trying to fold in on himself. White hair sparsely covers his head. But it's his eyes -- deep-set and fiercely intelligent that startle you.

"You must be Leto's daughter. I've heard many things about you," he says, voice measured. "You're very brave, coming here today."

You hiss. "What do you know about bravery?"

You didn't need to explain yourself. He had been the one, after all, to orchestrate the fall of your House. Your father. In your chest your heart pangs, but you don't let the emotion translate onto your face.

"It's flattering, that you've done all of this just to speak to me." The Emperor sweeps out his arm, cloaked in a sleeve that drags on the floor. The silence in the hall is suffocating.

"It's not like I had any other opportunities," you say, "you were strangely absent at my wedding and any other function. You prefer to control everything from the shadows, don't you?"

"Why haven't you had them arrested for treason?" The Baron cries, huge form quivering with anger.

"We just want to talk," Feyd speaks up.

"Talk," the Baron spits, "you could've sent a message."

The Emperor turns his gaze to his daughter, who's staring at him expectantly. She drops Rabban's hands. He motions for her. "Irulan, my darling, come here. The ceremony will be...postponed."

Rabban storms down the altar's stairs after Irulan. "You can't ruin this wedding! I was going to be next in line for the Emperorship!"

"Don't put me in the ground yet, Rabban," the Emperor growls.

Rabban doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"If you want to talk, then," the Emperor says, "talk."

You don't see any reason to mince your words. You thrust your chin into the air as you demand, "Step down from the throne."

Silence follows. A thin, brittle laugh leaves the Emperor, who's regarding you with a newfound interest. The guests chuckle nervously in return.

"And why would I do that, child?"

"We've dismantled your ship. You can't leave until you agree to our terms."

The Emperor's smile is lethal. "If you haven't noticed, we have an entire armada pointed at our ship. Unless you want to risk the lives of your men and everyone on Arrakeen, then you will stand down."

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," Feyd growls.

Your secret weapon.

"We've seized control of the spice mills. Of your spice sources. If anything happens to us, I'll give the signal to destroy them all."

This time, an uneasy rumble descends over the crowd. Not only would you deplete an export of spice, but the Guild Navigators wouldn't be able to pilot the ships without sufficient spice. The entire armada, including the Emperor and his Hutment, would be stuck permanently on Arrakis.

The Baron glares at you. "You wouldn't."

"I would." You shrug. "I do not obsess over it such as you."

"And what do you propose? That I just hand my crown over to you?"

The Emperor stands calmly besides his daughter, whose facial expression you can't quite read. You regard him thoughtfully. "Yes."

"This is absurd," he seethes.

"Just say the word, and I'll destroy the spice mills. All of them."

A moment passes, the few seconds before your world tilts on its axis. You don't see the poison dart, or hear it. It buries into your shoulder with surprisingly subtlety, cementing it's existence with a rush of heat in your bloodstream. You look at it, shocked. You waver.

Chaos explodes in the hall. The Emperor whips around to the Baron, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

It's been too long. You haven't dosed on poisons since your accident, not the kind embedded in the dart's needle-like tip.

You have just enough clarity to see Feyd transform in an instant, the image of a dignified soldier ripped away into the face of a beast. His face crumples. He roars, the sound tearing through the ruckus. Darkness floods the edges of your vision. As you stumble back, one of the Fremen catch you in her arms. Chani's voice washes over you, your name, over and over. "Stay awake!"

You have a feeble hold on reality, teetering in and out of your grasp. The hall erupts with screams. Flashes of Feyd dominate your fading vision. He's slashing through the wedding guests, snarling, effortlessly working his way towards the front of the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut. You try to focus on the poison, swimming in your veins with an unrelenting ferocity, and imagine yourself directing it out of your body. It can't end. Not like this.

All of your anger, you desperation, bubbles to the surface. In an effort to rid yourself of it, you push all of these feelings towards the poison, a defensive measure that feels too absurd to work.

The Fremen have joined Feyd in his rampage, shouting about Muad'dib -- about you. Violence swirls all around.

You can feel the poison retreating, shrinking in on itself like a cowering animal. A terrified shriek rings out and your attention wavers slightly, redirected towards the front of the hall, where Feyd is locked in combat with his brother, who is trying to defend the Baron. The Emperor and Irulan have been seized by two Fedaykin, the former who thrashes angrily. Irulan's eyes are on you.

Her fingers twitch and, even in your drugged state, you understand what she's telling you. You mean to bring peace.

Let me, you sign back, please.

She nods, delicate chin dipping. Irulan shrugs off the Fedaykin, suggesting that she had just been letting them restrain her, then raises both of her hands. "CEASE!"

The Voice reverberates through the hall. Such a powerful display -- you had never seen anyone command so many at once. But the weapons all clatter to the ground, the movements stilling. Everyone but one, it seems.

Feyd steps around Rabban, who has frozen in place. He leaps onto a pew and pushes off the back, launching himself upward onto the Baron. The Gom Jabbar glints in his fist. The sound of the needle jabbing into his fat neck echoes, the subsequent fall of the patriarch, crashing onto the floor and twitching with great enthusiasm until he finally lays still. Feyd steps away from the mass of his uncle.

"Irulan!" The Emperor yells, horrified. "What are you doing?"

"He sent the call for the poison dart. There didn't need to be more violence," Irulan hisses in reply.

The Emperor growls at the Fedaykin. "Unhand me!"

"Father, stop." She's not using The Voice, but her tone is powerful enough without. "No more fighting. No more betrayal. Whatever she has to say, you will listen."

Residue of poison still lurking in your veins, you do your best to pull yourself into a respectable position. Feyd relaxes slightly. You fix a stare at the Emperor. "You will revoke your claim on the crown."

Irulan glares at her father. He sags, defeated. "I...I relinquish my control to you."

"Not to me," you say, "but your daughter." The golden-haired princess startles, blinking at you. You continue, "She is deserving of the title. And my husband and I will work in tandem with her as the Duke and Duchess of both Arrakis and Giedi Prime. I appoint Stilgar as the Governor to rule in our place when we are away."

It's not something you've talked about before, but you know in that moment that it's the right decision. You find his face in the gathered crowd and he nods his agreement.

This proposal surprises the Emperor, but he softens as he looks at his daughter. She nearly shines in her white dress, a celestial being, a slant of light falling over her. "Fine," he says. His shoulders shake slightly. "And what will you do with me? My supporters?"

"They will either swear their fealty to Emperess Irulan or die. As for you," you say, anger flaring, "you will be taken prisoner to answer for your crimes against the House Atreides. Against Arrakis and it's people and everyone else you have ever impacted."

“Prisoner.” The Emperor’s upper lip curls.

“Unless you want to die with the others who won’t swear their fealty?” You ask.

“Just go with them,” Irulan tells her father. The words for now go unspoken. You ignore this. Unlike the Baron, whose body lays at the altar, he won’t get such an easy escape.

The Fremen start collecting the wedding guests, herding them through the hall and back into the Hutment. You informed them earlier to lead any resisters to the palace — you looked forward to reclaiming it again. The last few people are escorted from the hall when the chanting starts.

“Muad’dib! Akrab! Muad’dib! Akrab!”

Hope buoys inside you. The Emperor brushes past you, and you shout, “Empress Irulan!”

The chant shifts to her name, until all three of your names are lifted to the sky like an offering.

Feyd eventually orders them to leave, to prepare the palace for your arrival. They don’t question him, which leaves you both alone in the hall. It’s the first time that you’ve really looked at him since this morning. He’s soaked in blood, and there’s a bruise forming on his cheek, but you’ve never seen him look so beautiful before.

He’s a physical manifestation of everything you’ve done, what you’ve done for each other.

“Jewel —”

You run to him.

Feyd crashes into you, arm coiling around your middle and pulling you into him, his mouth bruising yours. He’s damp with blood, the smell of copper flooding your senses. Despite it all, you groan, clambering to get as close to him as you can. His hand moves to cup the back of your head as his tongue drives past your lips, hungrily seeking you out. Desire pulses through you. When he crumbles to his knees, he takes you with him, lowering you onto him.

You straddle him. Beneath you, he is a righteous angel, the smears of blood on the floor like crimson wings.

“Take these off,” he rasps, tugging at your clothes, “now.”

It’s not easy, but you manage, hovering over him as you peel off your armor and underclothes, then finally your underwear. Feyd watches intently as you pull the material down your hips and over your thighs, his calloused hands grabbing at you, gaze roaming over every new inch of exposed flesh. Impatient, a growl rumbles in his chest, and he pulls you down onto him. He smears streaks of crimson on your breasts as he works his thumb over your stiff nipples, taking the other in his mouth and sucking, teeth grazing.

You inhale sharply. With fervor, you grind your hips into him, desperate for friction. Feyd pushes up into you. His cock, straining at his pants, rubs against your center. Eager, you roll with him, his pupils blown as he watches you, fingers digging into your hips and guiding your movement.

There’s something wild about him in this moment. Feyd is laid bare, bloodied and violent, plush lips parted. And you somehow love him more like this than you ever have, stripped of any pretenses or expectations, just dangerous and ugly and raw — and he’s seen every corner of your own darkness and never flinched away.

Suddenly aware that he’s overly dressed, you begin tugging at his armor until he gets the hint and helps the process, muscles flexing as he pulls it over his head and discards it nearby. You can’t help it, you slide your hands over his chest and down his stomach. When you reach the waistband of his pants, he inhales through his teeth, cock twitching and sending a pulse to your cunt. “Such a dirty whore,” he teases you, “so eager for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, fumbling for the latch.

“You want it inside you?”

You squirm in anticipation. “Yes.”

Feyd pushes your hands away. He manages to shed his pants in a single movement and kick them to the side, revealing his long, thick cock to your gaze. Your cunt clenches. Feyd rocks you forward slightly then fists his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before guiding it into you. You sink into him, shivering with the pleasure of him, warm and filling, and crying out when he drives impossibly deep inside you, splitting you open.

You rock deeper, pain erupting in your knees from the hard floor as you spread your legs to take him. And he fucks into you with blinding intensity, slamming into you up to the hilt, drawing out an embarrassing amount of gasps and squeaks from you. You feel as if you might be on fire, seared by his passion, body aching with every thrust, trembling with the force of him. He hisses and a look of pure lust, pure concentration, crosses his handsome face, brows furrowed, breath sawing from chest with the effort. Feyd snarls — actually snarls — and pumps into you harder, faster, hips snapping at a speed that dizzies you.

“Fuck, Feyd,” you hiss, “you feel so good.”

“Shut up,” he growls. As if in punishment, he throws you off him and now you’re beneath him and he’s looming over you, burning fiercely with passion. Feyd grabs each of your ankles and lifts your lower body so that you’re exposed to him, then spears into you fully. You cry out.

Pleasure shoots through you with each jolt. Overcome with it all, with him, your head rolls to the side. Only a few feet away, the body of Vladimir Harkonnen lays in a heap. You stiffen in shock — how had you forgotten?

A rough hand grabs your face, forces you to look straight into the eyes of Feyd-Rautha. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

He’s adjusted your position to do this, to keep you staring at him even as your emotions surge and tears spring to your eyes, propping one of your legs onto his shoulder. Feyd applies pressure to your clit, smearing more blood on your lower belly, massaging and rolling your most sensitive spot as he ruts into you over and over, building with his own desire.

You lose all sense of time, of yourself. You might as well have been spiraling out of control, stuck in weightless suspension. All you focus on is him. Feyd-Rautha. Former na-Baron. Your husband. He’s the center of your world. And when you come you wail his name like a prayer, Feyd follows shortly after, pumping his seed inside you.

You lay like that for some time, entwined, panting and trying to catch your breath. Once you’ve mustered enough clarity, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” There’s no trace of turmoil or regret in his dark eyes. “Are you?”

“Fine,” you repeat back to him. You touch the spot at your shoulder where the flip dart had been embedded. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Perhaps it was leftover tolerance.”

“Perhaps.” Admittedly, you don’t want to think about how you had practically willed the poison away. You don’t want to think about anything. Frankly, you just want a hot shower.

As if reading your mind, Feyd says, “There’s a celebration waiting for us at the palace.”

“I know,” you sigh. Both of you collect your clothes, leaving your armor where it is. There’s a strange calm that’s settled itself around your shoulders. When you finish dressing, you catch Feyd glaring at the Baron. You touch his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He tears his gaze away. “It happened so…easily.”

“I can’t say that I’m sorry you did it.”

“He hurt you.” Feyd’s face closes like a fist. “After all this time, I thought — nevermind what I thought. He can’t hurt anyone again.” He starts towards the door, leaving you to scurry after him. You know he’s more anguished about the situation than he’s willing to share, but you’ll wait to wrest the truth from him.

For now, you just want to be with him.

As he expected, the celebration is raging at the palace, Fremen and other Arrakeen residents brimming out in the heat-scorched courtyard and within the corridors. They congratulate you and pat you on the back as you pass by, their previous animosity forgotten in the post-battle victory.

You smile warily at them and do your best to appear as ecstatic as they are. You can’t believe that you’ve done it, that you’ve found an unlikely ally in Princess Irulan. Without her, you’re not sure that you would’ve achieved what you did — taking control of the Known Universe, seating its positions of power with those that you trust. The first thing you do is seek out the golden-haired princess who, despite having just been crowned Empress, is found by herself nursing a drink.

“It’s about time,” Irulan says with an inkling of amusement. She takes in your disheveled state, smeared with blood, but thankfully doesn’t comment on it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was the right choice,” you say, sidling beside her.

“My Father won’t go down without a fight.”

“So we’ll fight.” You lift a shoulder. “Thank you. For what you did.”

“I owe you, from before. I’m sorry —”

You reach out and squeeze her hand. “Don’t be. We’re allies now. Friends.”

Irulan smiles. “Friends.”

Speaking of friends. You hear a familiar voice call your name, prompting you to whirl around in surprise. “Asha?”

“You’re here! You’re alive!” Your old friend sweeps you into her arms. She looks thin, thinner than you’ve seen her, but her eyes are glowing.

“What happened to you?” You ask. You can’t properly parse out all of the emotions that are crashing into you. When you left her behind —

Asha withdraws, holding you at arms length. “I was taken by the Baron. They kept me prisoner here. They released us, though, once they found us. The Fremen.” She smiles. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

You hug her again. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m glad that you’re okay, Asha.”

And, for the first time in a very long time, everything seemed to be perfect. At least, as perfect as they could be. Asha joined you at the table beside Irulan, who you promptly introduced; across the room Feyd kept his gaze trained on you, winking when you catch his eye.

You wanted to preserve that moment, contain it to later be marveled. You had done so much to get here — if only you knew how much more you would have to endure.

A/N 2.0: Did anyone catch my TLJ reference?👀 Also, Jewel's brief happiness before her life falls apart

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[sandwormrp]

Doomsday Harvest

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Xenn Awendlay (OC) 1,627 words

OOC Note: In this AU, Feyd won the duel against Paul, but did not accept (or was not offered) the fiefdom of Arrakis, nor was he offered Irulan's hand. House Harkonnen had been weakened by the expenses of the now-dead Baron Vladimir in their ambush of the Atreides, and in their terrific losses to Paul's Fremen. The Emperor saw no reason to reward such failures, even though Feyd was inheriting them and had saved his Imperial life. Instead, Arrakis was given over to the Fenrings, and Caladan granted to Feyd as a second planet to Giedi Prime. Our story follows Feyd, and his encounters with Xenn, a rice farmer who is a part of the peasantry of the planet Caladan, and a direct descendant of Pongi/Pundi rice harvesters spanning back centuries. Hard-working with a blue-collar mindset, she is regularly aloof and stoic in nature yet can be smart-mouthed and prone to misplaced confidence in situations that do not ask for it, perhaps unconsciously seeking the odd thrill in a lifetime of promised labour. Check out the link:Xenn Awendlay for this OC's character bio. Logjam and I looked over this Joint Posting together! Credit to Logjam for the original Alternate Universe idea and inspiring me in writing this!

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Nimble fingers worked with practiced precision over the tops of thick green rice stalks, checking...inspecting. Xenn weaved through the crops, searching for stalks that were no longer green in colour and were a rich golden brown at the top. The tops holding what was called seedheads. That is how one would know the rice was ready to be harvested. This particular batch in the various rice fields scattered across Caladan, stretching over the evergreen hills, was Pongi rice. A Caladan delicacy. The two most profitable food sources of the land, Pundi and Pongi rice grain, had filled the bellies of the Caladanians seemingly since the very birth of the planet. That is what the elders whisper, at least.

Too bad the ones who cultivated the lands from the inside out wouldn't see the majority of the earned Solari.

Castle Caladan, which straddled the crashing waves of the oceanic coastline, was about 600-700 yards away from the rice fields and from the small wooden homes the peasants lived in. The Castle controlled much of everything. No matter which House resided within the stacked old stone walls and claimed rule at that designated time, the nobles of said House handled the percentages of where the Solaris profits went. It seldom left the farmers with heavy pockets. If a lord was kind, you may see more than a handful of days of relaxation and leisure throughout the year. The peasantry traded their services to wealthy nobles in exchange for military protection, food, drink, and shelter. They would never go hungry. The economy depended on their work, and as such, heavy labour is to be expected to meet the needs of distribution. Their previous ruler, the honourable late Duke Leto Atreides, was a fair and kind leader and would offer the odd luxury every now and then. Count Fenring, named "Siridar-Absentia" of Caladan, who was granted temporary stead by The Emperor Shaddam, was by no means horrible but had also not been doting on the peasants with open arms and generosity. In fact, he had been gone quite some time to The Emperor's Hutment on Arrakis following the announcement of the Battle of Arrakeen. A much loyal companion or errand boy to Emperor Shaddam, The Count would come when called. The gossip that was circling around the peasants on the events in Arrakis currently had been a mixed bag of information, so Xenn could not rely on it for what was truth and what was not.

The stinging chirp of the cicadas is heard in the warm environment of the farmland. A musical melody that Xenn has grown accustomed to hearing in a day's work. That all of the peasantry had grown accustomed to hearing, signifying the beginning of their working hours, calling upon the scorching yellow sun to slowly rise up through the horizon, over the trees, making its way up to halt in the centre of the sky and beat down, baking into the skin of the rice-harvesters.

But it was a pleasing sound, nonetheless.

Xenn could not deny that. Her bronze complexion took the sun's rays easily, her wrists gliding over the green seedheads, still searching for one golden in colour. She paused to brush her fertilizer-soiled hand through her raven locks, the choppy bangs sticking to her forehead, the pieces of hair falling messily over her cheekbones, curling just under her earlobes. Short, with athleticism in mind. Her deep brown, nearly black, almond-shaped eyes flickered over to a golden stalk head popping through the greenery.

Finally.

With a jump in her step, she passed through the crowd of harvesters holding countless zones along the spaced-out rows of the rice field. 

As she reached the ripened seedhead, a gruff, deep, almost macabre voice seemed to burst through the damp soil, disrupting everyone's flow, everyone's roll. Perturbed, she took in the workers expressions around her, watching as some gawked, freezing. Others darted their heads rapidly back and forth, leaning into their neighbouring worker to chatter in disbelief and then back to...

There. In her peripheral.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

So that means the other half of the rumours were true, then. The ones that spoke that the Harkonnen was somehow granted Caladan. But how so, and why? Is this why The Count was gone for so long? Had Muad'dib truly fallen? Another rumour had claimed Paul Atreides had overtaken Shaddam and the Sardaukar army. The peasants' gossip could only speculate on unfinished wars. Its value could only carry so far.

We should have been informed of this beforehand, just like the rest of them. We SHOULD have a right to know who could rule over us.

But they were continuously kept in the dark. After all, low-borns had no reason to be included in these discussions.

Feyd-Rautha was standing with his arms clasped behind his back, almost regal, but exuding casual authority, his jet-black, armoured legs widened in a comfortable stance. His sharp, unforgiving stare locked onto the Burgomeister, who oversees the day-to-day management of the farmlands.

Xenn let a hushed curse fall from her lips, now grasping the ripened head of the rice stalk with renewed force. As she picked at the seeds, she could only hear the rough rumbles that came from his chest, still a good distance away. Camouflaging herself slightly behind the tall crops, she strained her ears to hear the conversation he was having with their Burgomeister. She could see some sort of entourage waiting dutifully behind Feyd-Rautha in the grass, stone-faced and armed.

When did they arrive? Last night? Before sunrise?

That was the only plausible explanation.

"...of course, my Lord Baron, I wasn't expecting you!" The Burgomeister's nervous chuckles were heard clearly. "It is an absolute privilege to have you joining the harvesters this afternoon—"

"Spare me." Feyd-Rautha grunted roughly, silencing the man's cheery ramble. "Why have you not converted to machinery yet?"

"My Lord Baron, I assure you, the harvesters know these lands; they have been doing this for centuries, they hold the most valuable knowledge for the best areas of cultivation—"

The Burgomeister's voice dies in his throat when he spots Feyd-Rautha's gloved fist twist two ripened stalks in one hand, bending them backwards, squeezing the heads as it crackles under the ebony gauntlet adorning his fist, the material crushing the plants. He bent the rice stalks far back enough to reveal the frightened faces of two younger men. 

Xenn took note of the mischief in his deep, blue eyes. The way his pupils expanded at the sight of their fear, the way he flashes his black pit of a mouth into an enthusiastic smile, plump lips opening wide to reveal two rows of blackened, midnight teeth.

A rare Harkonnen custom used by some, not all, on Geidi Prime, reserved for flexing status, wealth, beauty...

"Boys." He addressed, prompting the two of them to gaze up at him with widened eyes, his raspy tone ending in a high hilt. "Do you truly believe you are faster than a machine?" 

She falters slightly at the sight of his ghoulish appearance, his porcelain skin, hairless dome stark white, bright and blinding amongst the sun-kissed skin of the common folk.

He didn't belong. A ghost in the hemisphere. How he, an alien, non-native, commanded the space so easily, was disturbing.

Of the two men, a sandy blonde, tanned man parts his mouth open to speak, stammering as he peers at him with pleading brown irises. "W-w-well, my Lord, I feel that we—"

Feyd simply walks off, letting the husks whip back into the boys' faces as he hums, a heavy, throaty sound. His dismissive action made some of the peasants watching the ordeal ogle the scene in shock, meekly lowering their eyes when he saunters by them with a slow swagger. Others, out of his direct line of sight, seethe, burning their disgust into his back with hate-filled, hard stares. A dark cape attached to the ridges of his armoured shoulders follows behind him.

Xenn shares their sentiments, the disrespectful action shaking up something inside of her. Yet she retreats her narrowed, fixated eyes as he passes, her face neutral as she steadily picks up her pace, piling the seeds into the frayed, unbuckled satchel strapped to her leg. It wouldn't be wise to blatantly glare unprovoked, no matter how much his sneering, proud face asked as much. She tries to focus on the whistling tune of a small blue jay, perched upon a large branch jutting out from a tree a few yards away, the sing-song calls bouncing from all directions.

When the Burgomeister allows us our break, I should like to go for a swim near the coastline, it's much too humid—

Suddenly, a distinct and familiar yelp cracks through the atmosphere, snapping her out of her attempt at distraction.

Mother.

Out of pure instinct, not understanding what had transpired, Xenn's heels dig into the damp soil below, knocking a flagon of water over in the process as she launches herself forwards, towards the sound, her head spinning.

"Ahh, right at my feet, the best spot to cultivate, woman?" She hears his taunting, grovelling tone, dripping with condescension, making her heart pick up against her ribcage in concern as she jumps through the stalks, dodging the awestruck farmers, all leering at the sight of Feyd-Rautha's current position.

As Xenn draws nearer, a familiar black braid encases her vision, her mother's hunched-over form cowering under him, eye-level with Feyd-Rautha's gleaming, black boots. Seeds of rice grain have been dumped over his boots, her mother muttering incoherently, rocking at his feet, hands raised.

In a rush of confusion and anger, she lurches, dirt flying into the air, skidding up to him just a few feet away, before letting her voice rip through the skies. "STOP!"

Continued on our jcink rp!

[manwalksintobar]

The Manhattan Project // Spencer Reece

First, J. Robert Oppenheimer wrote his paper on dwarf stars—“What happens to a massive star that burns out?” he asked. His calculations suggested that instead of collapsing it would contract indefinitely, under the force of its own gravity. The bright star would disappear but it would still be there, where there had been brilliance there would be a blank. Soon after, workers built Oak Ridge, the accumulation of Cemesto hutments not placed on any map. They built a church, a school, a bowling alley. From all over, families drove through the muddy ruts. The ground swelled about the ruts like flesh stitched by sutures. My father, a child, watched the loads on the tops of their cars tip. Gates let everyone in and out with a pass. Forbidden to tell anyone they were there, my father’s family moved in, quietly, behind the chain-link fence. Niels Bohr said, “This bomb might be our great hope.” My father watched his parents eat breakfast: his father opened his newspaper across the plate of bacon and eggs, his mother smoked Camel straights, the ash from her cigarette cometing across the back of the obituaries. They spoke little. Increasingly the mother drank Wild Turkey with her women friends from the bowling league. Generators from the y-12 plant droned their ambition. There were no birds. General Leslie Groves marched the boardwalks, yelled, his boots pressed the slates and the mud bubbled up like viscera. My father watched his father enter the plant. My shy father went to the library, which was a trailer with a circus tent painted on the side. There he read the definition of “uranium” which was worn to a blur. My father read one Hardy Boys mystery after another. It was August 1945. The librarian smiled sympathetically at the 12-year-old boy. “Time to go home,” the librarian said. They named the bomb Little Boy. It weighed 9,700 pounds. It was the size of a go-kart. On the battle cruiser Augusta, President Truman said, “This is the greatest thing in history.” That evening, my father’s parents mentioned Japanese cities. Everyone was quiet. It was the quiet of the exhausted and the innocent. The quietness inside my father was building and would come to define him. I was wrong to judge it. Speak, Father, and I will listen. And if you do not wish to speak, then I will listen to that.

[epack-prefab]

EPACK Prefab is one of the leading manufacturers of Prefabricated Labour Quarters and Camps in India. They specialize in offering durable, cost-effective, and easily installable modular housing solutions for workers. Ideal for construction sites and industrial projects, their prefab camps are designed to ensure comfort, safety, and efficiency.

With quick setup times and customizable layouts, EPACK Prefab provides the perfect housing solution for large-scale projects. Whether temporary or permanent, their labour quarters are built to meet the unique needs of every site, making them a top choice across India.

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[nandneeeeeee]

Top 10 Must-Visit Places in Amritsar: A Comprehensive Guide

Amritsar, the heart of Punjab, is a city that beautifully blends rich history, vibrant culture, and spiritual tranquility. From the iconic Golden Temple to bustling markets, there are many things to do in Punjab, with Amritsar offering some of the most unforgettable experiences. Here’s a comprehensive guide to the 10 best places to visit in Amritsar to gain the best experience by witnessing the history of India!

1. The Golden Temple

No visit to Amritsar is complete without a visit to the Golden Temple, also known as Harmandir Sahib. This stunning Sikh gurdwara is a symbol of human brotherhood and equality, offering spiritual solace to millions of visitors. The shimmering gold façade and the serene Amrit Sarovar (pool of nectar) are truly mesmerizing. Don’t miss the langar, a community kitchen that serves free meals to thousands daily.

2. Jallianwala Bagh

A short walk from the Golden Temple, Jallianwala Bagh is a poignant reminder of India's struggle for independence. This public garden commemorates the 1919 massacre, where hundreds of innocent Indians were killed by British troops. The memorial and the preserved bullet marks serve as a somber reminder of the past.

3. Wagah Border

Witness the electrifying Wagah Border Ceremony, a daily military practice that showcases the parade and lowering of the flags by Indian and Pakistani forces. The energetic atmosphere, patriotic fervor, and synchronized movements make it a must-see spectacle. Arrive early to secure a good spot.

4. Partition Museum

Located in the Town Hall, the Partition Museum offers a deep dive into the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. The exhibits, personal stories, and artifacts provide a touching and informative experience about the tumultuous period in history.

5. Maharaja Ranjit Singh Museum

Housed in the beautiful Ram Bagh Palace, the Maharaja Ranjit Singh Museum is dedicated to the life and times of the "Lion of Punjab." The museum showcases an extensive collection of artifacts, including weapons, paintings, and coins from the Sikh Empire, offering a glimpse into the region's rich heritage.

6. Durgiana Temple

Often compared to the Golden Temple due to its architecture, the Durgiana Temple is dedicated to Goddess Durga. This Hindu temple is not only a place of worship but also a testament to the city’s inclusive and diverse spiritual culture. The temple complex is serene and offers a peaceful ambiance for visitors.

7. Gobindgarh Fort

Step back in time with a visit to Gobindgarh Fort, a historic military fort that now serves as a cultural hub. The fort offers various attractions, including live performances, 7D shows, museums, and traditional crafts. It's an excellent place to learn about Amritsar’s historical significance and enjoy some entertainment.

8. Akal Takht

Situated within the Golden Temple complex, Akal Takht is the highest seat of earthly authority of the Khalsa. It was established by Guru Hargobind and symbolizes the unity of spiritual and temporal concerns in Sikhism. The Takht is a place of great reverence and is integral to the Sikh faith.

9. Ram Tirath

An ancient pilgrimage site, Ram Tirath is believed to be the birthplace of Lav and Kush, the sons of Lord Rama. The temple complex includes a large tank, temples, and hutments where Valmiki is said to have lived. The fair held here annually attracts thousands of devotees and is a vibrant display of local traditions.

10. Katra Jaimal Singh Bazaar

For those who love shopping, Katra Jaimal Singh Bazaar is a paradise. Famous for its textiles, including the renowned Amritsari Phulkari and juttis (traditional footwear), the market is bustling with activity. It’s the perfect place to pick up souvenirs and experience the local culture.

Conclusion

Amritsar, with its blend of historical, cultural, and spiritual sites, offers a rich and varied travel experience. Whether you are a history buff, a spiritual seeker, or a shopaholic, the city has something for everyone. With so many things to do in Punjab, Amritsar stands out as a jewel that provides a deep dive into the heart and soul of the region. Make sure to explore these top 10 places to fully appreciate the charm and significance of this incredible city.

[structurearchitect]

Modern Architects in Coimbatore Shaping the City's Tomorrow

Coimbatore, a megacity celebrated for its artificial prowess and rich artistic heritage, has witnessed a remarkable transformation in its architectural landscape. A new generation of ultramodern architects in Coimbatore is making swells with their innovative designs, sustainable practices, and a commitment to reconsidering the megacity's skyline. In this blog post, we'll shine a limelight on these visionary engineers who are shaping Coimbatore's hereafter.

Innovative Designs ultramodern engineers in Coimbatore are known for their innovative and forward- allowing designs. They're pushing the boundaries of traditional armature, creating structures that aren't only functional but also visually stunning. From contemporary domestic spaces that maximize natural light and ventilation to slice- edge marketable complexes that review workspace design, these engineers are at the van of architectural invention.

One similar illustration is the" Avinashi Road Tower," a hutment designed by a prominent Coimbatore mastermind. This iconic structure blends satiny aesthetics with sustainable features, making it a symbol of fustiness and progress.

Sustainability and Green Building Practices As environmental enterprises take center stage encyclopedically, ultramodern engineers in Coimbatore are leading the charge towards sustainable armature. They prioritize green structure practices, incorporating features like rainwater harvesting, solar panels, and energy-effective designs. Theseeco-conscious engineers understand the significance of minimizing the environmental impact of their systems.

[shipradigital]

Prefeb Hutment Manufacturer in Uttar Pradesh

In recent years, the demand for affordable and sustainable housing solutions has surged in various parts of the world, and Uttar Pradesh, India’s most populous state, is no exception. The state has witnessed rapid urbanization and a growing population, leading to an increasing need for efficient, cost-effective, and eco-friendly housing options. In response to this demand, the Prefab Hutment Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh have emerged as pioneers in providing innovative and scalable solutions to address the housing crisis.

Understanding Prefab Hutments

Prefab hutments also known as prefabricated or modular houses, are built using pre-made components that are assembled on-site. These structures are fabricated in factories, ensuring quality control and timely delivery. Prefab technology offers numerous advantages over traditional construction methods, including reduced construction time, minimal waste generation, and greater energy efficiency. Moreover, these structures can be easily relocated, making them a flexible and sustainable option.

The Growth of Prefab Hutment Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh

As the demand for affordable housing grows, prefab hutment manufacturers have flourished in Uttar Pradesh. These companies have adopted cutting-edge technology and innovative approaches to provide top-notch housing solutions. They collaborate with architects, engineers, and urban planners to design homes that meet both aesthetic and functional requirements.

The Benefits for Residents

. Affordability: Prefab hutments offer a more budget-friendly alternative, making homeownership a reality for many who previously struggled to afford conventional houses.

. Rapid Deployment: With an accelerated construction process, prefab hutment residents can move in faster, addressing the urgency of housing needs.

. Durability: These structures are designed to withstand various weather conditions, ensuring long-term durability and reliability.

. Sustainability: Prefab hutments contribute to sustainable development goals by minimizing resource consumption and waste generation

Originally published at https://creativepeb.com/prefab-hutment-manufacturer.html

[runaliashok]

Date: 21st July 2023

Time: 14:19

Blog:

Those born in castles,

Know the value

Of which stones

Are used to build castles .

Similarly those born

In a hutment,

Know the level of water,

Enough to drown them.

[creative321]

Pre-Engineered Steel Buildings Manufacturer in uttar pradesh

 Benefits of- Pre-Engineered Steel Buildings Manufacturer in uttar pradesh

Introduction:

Creative Building Solutions is located at Lucknow (Uttar Pradesh). Creative Building Solutions is one of the growing organisations in the northern region of India. We are engaged in pre-engineering building, prefab for hutment, security cabin, insulated and un-insulated colour coated steel roofing and wall cladding, thermal & cold insulation work such as designing, fabrication, and installation as per requirement.

In the realm of modern construction, pre-engineered steel buildings have emerged as a popular choice due to their numerous advantages. Uttar Pradesh, a state in India known for its industrial prowess, has a host of manufacturers specializing in pre-engineered steel buildings. In this article, we will explore the benefits of these innovative structures provided by manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh, accompanied by captivating photos showcasing their remarkable design and functionality.

1. Cost-Effective Constructions One of the primary advantages of pre-engineered steel buildings is their cost-effectiveness. Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh offer these structures at competitive prices due to their streamlined production processes and efficient utilisation of materials. Pre-engineered components are fabricated off-site, reducing construction time and labour costs significantly. Additionally, steel is a durable and low-maintenance material, minimising long-term repair and maintenance expenses.

 A pre-engineered steel building showcasing its cost-effective design and construction process.]

2. Speedy Construction and Installation

In today's fast-paced world, time is of the essence. Pre-engineered steel buildings excel in this aspect, as they can be quickly constructed and installed. Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh ensure prompt delivery and assembly of these buildings, utilizing their expertise in efficient production techniques. The pre-engineered components are manufactured in controlled factory conditions, enabling rapid on-site assembly. This advantage makes them an ideal choice for urgent projects and industries with tight deadlines.

: A pre-engineered steel building under construction, highlighting the speedy construction

3. Structural Integrity and Durability:  pre-engineered steel building Manufacturer in Uttar Pradesh 

Steel is renowned for its superior strength and durability. Pre-engineered steel buildings offer exceptional structural integrity, capable of withstanding harsh weather conditions, seismic activity, and heavy loads. Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh design these buildings to meet stringent quality standards, ensuring their long-lasting performance. Steel structures are resistant to corrosion, fire, pests, and rot, ensuring a reliable and secure building for various applications

.

 A pre-engineered steel building demonstrating its structural integrity and durability.]

4. Versatility and Flexibility

:

Manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh offer pre-engineered steel buildings that are highly versatile and customizable to suit diverse requirements. Whether for industrial facilities, warehouses, commercial spaces, agricultural structures, or recreational buildings, these structures can be tailored to meet specific design needs. The flexible design options include multiple layout possibilities, mezzanine floors, crane support systems, insulation, and various exterior finishes, providing a comprehensive solution for any project.

 A pre-engineered steel building showcasing its versatile design and adaptability.]

5. Sustainability and Environmental Considerations:

In today's environmentally conscious era, sustainable construction practices are of paramount importance. Pre-engineered steel buildings are inherently eco-friendly due to their recyclability and energy efficiency. Steel is one of the most recycled materials globally, reducing the demand for new resources. Furthermore, these structures can be designed to incorporate energy-efficient features like natural lighting, insulation, and solar panels, minimizing their environmental impact.

A pre-engineered steel building featuring sustainable design elements and energy-efficient solutions.]

Efficiency and Innovation:   Uttar Pradesh's Leading Pre-Engineered Building Manufacturer in uttar pradesh

Uttar Pradesh, a state in India known for its industrial prowess, boasts a number of leading manufacturers specializing in pre-engineered steel buildings. These manufacturers have gained recognition for their commitment to efficiency and innovation in the construction industry. With their expertise and advanced techniques, they are revolutionising the way buildings are designed and constructed.

These manufacturers prioritise efficiency in every aspect of their operations. By utilising state-of-the-art technology and modern manufacturing processes, they streamline production, reduce wastage, and optimise resource utilisation. This focus on efficiency translates into cost-effective solutions for clients, making pre-engineered steel buildings an attractive option for various construction projects.

In addition to efficiency, these manufacturers are at the forefront of innovation. They constantly strive to push the boundaries of design and functionality, incorporating cutting-edge architectural concepts and engineering techniques. By staying updated with the latest advancements in the industry, they are able to offer clients customized solutions that meet their specific requirements.

Furthermore, the manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh are committed to quality and adherence to international standards. They ensure that their pre-engineered steel buildings are structurally sound, durable, and resistant to environmental factors. Through rigorous quality control processes, including inspections and testing, they deliver buildings that exceed client expectations.

Collaboration and customer satisfaction are also key priorities for these manufacturers. They work closely with clients, architects, and engineers to understand project goals and deliver tailor-made solutions. Whether it's a commercial, industrial, agricultural, or institutional project, they have the expertise to design and construct pre-engineered steel buildings that fulfill the unique needs of each client.

Moreover, these manufacturers understand the importance of sustainability in today's world. They actively promote eco-friendly practices by utilizing recyclable materials and incorporating energy-efficient features in their buildings. By doing so, they contribute to reducing the carbon footprint of the construction industry and creating environmentally responsible structures.

The pre-engineered steel building manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh have earned a reputation for their efficiency, innovation, quality, and commitment to sustainability. Their contributions to the construction industry have not only transformed the skylines of the state but also set new benchmarks for the sector as a whole. With their exceptional capabilities, they continue to drive progress and shape the future of construction in Uttar Pradesh and beyond.

Conclusion:

The pre-engineered steel buildings offered by manufacturers in Uttar Pradesh present a range of advantages that make them an attractive choice for various construction projects. Their cost-effectiveness, speedy construction, structural integrity, versatility, and sustainability make them a compelling option in today's dynamic industry. With their expertise and commitment to quality, Uttar Pradesh manufacturers provide innovative solutions that meet the evolving needs of the construction sector.

 A collage of pre-engineered steel buildings by Uttar Pradesh manufacturers, highlighting their diverse applications and benefits.]

The photos used in this article are for illustrative purposes only and may not depict actual buildings manufactured by Uttar Pradesh manufacturers.

If you are looking for a reliable and experienced pre-fabricated building manufacturer in Uttar Pradesh, be sure to contact the creative building solutions.

Creative building solutions is the best pre-fabricated building manufacturer in uttar pradesh.

[multidecorindia]

The Perfect Solution for Worker Housing

At MDIPL, we believe workers are the backbone of any big project. That's why we offer insulated prefab labour colonies and Labour Hutments to provide a safe and comfortable living environment for organizational workers on work sites. We understand the importance of happy workers and offer high-end levels of accommodation to attract and retain them.

Our insulated prefab labour colony and Labour Hutments are the perfect solution to the problem of scarcity of labours. We offer a safe, comfortable, and convenient living environment that meets the needs of workers while they are away from their homes and families. Our G+1 or G+ 2 labour hutments are designed to maximize space and offer a comfortable living environment, even in areas where land is scarce.

For more details visit: https://multidecor.in/labour-colony/

#labourcolony#workercamp#workercabins#peblabourcolony#pebbuilding#pebbuilders#pebstructures#siteoffices#sifeoffice#prefablabourcolony#prefabricatedlabourcolony

[pradip-madgaonkar]

Mumbai: Major fire breaks out in shanties of Malad's slum area, over 2000 hutments gutted | WATCH

[aariyapatel]

#

Zine - Indian Feminism in Streetwear 

Here’s an extension into the themes of India’s four leading Indian feminist streetwear brands

[epack-prefab]

Best-in-class Labor Hutment Manufacturer & Supplier

EPACK Prefab: Setting the Standard for Labor Hutment Solutions in India.

When it comes to labor accommodation solutions in India, EPACK Prefab stands out as a trusted name in the industry. Renowned for their commitment to quality, reliability, and innovation, EPACK Prefab has earned a reputation as the go-to manufacturer and supplier for top-tier labor hutments.

For inquiries or to learn more about EPACK Prefab's offerings, visit their website or contact their team today.

[globalnewses]

Chandigarh: Fire in colony number 4, bride’s hutment gutted before wedding

Chandigarh: Fire in colony number 4, bride’s hutment gutted before wedding

A day before her wedding, a bride’s hutment along with over 12 hutments were completely damaged after a fire broke out in colony number 4 on Sunday afternoon. Although no loss of life was reported, all belongings got damaged in the fire. Rupali, the bride, was in her hutment and her haldi ceremony was going on when relatives saw some smoke coming from the rear side of the hutment. “Gradually, the…

[sohamgpt]

Laltu stood there in silence, his bloodshot eyes full of rage, his body stiff, only his jaws trembled. His mother sat cowering in silence at the corner of their slum hut, as his wife screamed at the top of her voice, telling him how worthless he was and how, like a lousy pussy, he had made his way back home for dinner, after spending an entire day drinking away with the bastards he called his friends. ‘Go back to your gutters in Garcha’, she told him, ‘Go back to where you belong, this place is no place for you, even if it is a lousy slum.’ His six year old daughter was deep in sleep; her brown-paper wrapped textbook was still open – if it was summer, the pages would have fluttered under the electric fan but now, it was winter. Laltu’s son, not even a year old, kept crying ceaselessly in the midst of all the commotion – perhaps it’s the cloth diaper, has he soiled it already? With his eyes, Laltu was almost eating up Shampa. She’s got fat as a pig after childbirth – he thought – and was throwing tantrums every day these days! She wouldn’t shut up, just wouldn’t, that cunt. Motionless, he stood there in silence facing her: only his jaws trembled. On a kerosene stove, a saucepan full of water was boiling – a few more minutes now. That bitch, Laltu was thinking, she needs hot water to take a bath at night, now that she’s going out, working, what guts – wasting kerosene to take a bath! Motionless, he stood facing his furious wife. She was still screaming, still screaming at him – How ugly, he thought, she looks when she screams! If only, if only he could just kick that ugly face so hard with his foot that it’d be deformed forever beyond recognition, if only he could do that, but – but that wouldn’t be too smart, he knew even in his state of drunkenness.

‘Janowar! Jontu kothakar, jah sala nordomay giye mwor! Khete esheche shurshur kore khankir chhele raat hotei! Eta tui hotel peyechish, hna? Hotel? Saradin mod kheye tal hoye pore achish, pet e khide jei legeche, bokachoda khete eshechish! Hobe na, ja bhag ekhan theke! Sala aya hoye ami khatbo, onyer pod ami chuchobo ar babu hoye tui saradin modh kheye pore thakbi, eta hoy? Bol, hoye? Ko mash holo bekar hoye boshe achish, bol toh! Bol komash holo!’ she was screaming, ‘Filthy beast, go rot in the gutter, creeping home to eat in the night, son of a bitch! Is this a hotel, huh, tell me, is this a hotel? The whole day you spend boozing away, the moment you are hungry, you come back home like a pussy! Can’t happen, just scram, get lost! I’ll work all day as an attendant, wiping other peoples’ butts and all you’ll do is booze away, can this happen, huh, tell me, can this go on? Tell, me, how many months have you been sitting on your ass, tell me, how many months? How many months?’ By now, tears were rolling down her eyes, her voice was starting to tremble. And then, before she knew it, it happened.

I had once heard a dog being run over by a motorcycle late into the night – it howled and howled in agony until it died, and the howls, believe me were unnerving even for the iron-hearted. Sampa’s howls were worse. She sprinted out of her one room home and through the maze of hutments all around, all the while trying to get off her nightie drenched in boiling water – the more she tried, the more agonizing it felt – the nightie seemed to be stuck onto her or something and she kept screaming until some neighbors ran over to the nearby tyre repairing garage and borrowed the iron tumbler full of water meant for testing punctured tubes and poured the water on her. It was not too late – not yet eleven, but then, the streets were unusually empty, because of tonight’s soccer finale – even the boys who play away carom on the pavement late into the night, under the naked yellow bulb were not to be found.

‘Meroni go, meroni amar cheletare! Ore chairya dao, meroni ore, bhul hoya geche, paye pori tomader! Baap nai, koto koshto koirya biya dichilam, ha kopal ki kando koirya boshlo, bou ta re mairyai phello bodh hoy! Meroni go, meroni orey, paye pori tomader! Koshte ache go, mon mejaj bhalo nai or, bouma rojkar korche baire giye, chhele ghore boisha ache, mone dukkho hoy, bedona hoy, bouma muk korle aro koshto hoy go or, purush manush er mon – meroni go, meroni ore! Chhaira dao, aha becharar bhaat o pore nai petey, chhairya dao go, chhaira dao ore, moirya jabe!’ Laltu’s mother pleadingly wailed, trying to shield her son from the punches and the blows with her frail hands. ‘Forgive him, I beg you, forgive my son, let him go, don’t beat him like that, it’s a mistake, it’s all a mistake, I beg you all, let him go – fatherless lad, how difficult it was for me to arrange for his wedding – and oh fate, look what he has done – almost killed his wife! Don’t hit him, hey, hey, don’t hit him, I beg you, the poor lad’s not even had any food – oh I beg you, don’t hit him like that, let him go, forgive him – jobless, wife going out, earning, how torturing it must be for him to bear it as a man – it’s been so many months without a job – and then being humiliated by her – such a shame it must be for him to feel so worthless – please, please let him go, don’t beat him like that, he’ll die, please stop, I beg you!’

They bundled Shampa up into a taxi and drove her to the nearest hospital. The courtyard which is usually so crowded, full of people and cars all the time, was empty now, a strange silence seemed to have swallowed up the whole of the ugly campus. The old taxi drove into the courtyard noisily; they carried her into the sleepy ED illuminated by depressing fluorescent tubes – the stinging smell of phenyl everywhere and the coldness of oil cloth spread on examination tables, the grimness of the blue-clad staff and the scowling old matrons in starched white uniforms, the swift footsteps and the rumblings of wheelchairs and the sudden screams of an agonized patient being stitched up somewhere nearby, there seemed to be no place more depressing than the emergency department of this hospital at this hour of the night. But then, compared to police stations or crematoriums or morgues, or even the EDs of some of the other hospitals in the city, this place was quite heavenly, actually. Ashoke Rajak and Montu Biswal were outside, smoking – others were inside taking care of the formalities, so it made no sense all of them crowding together causing chaos. They were smoking silently, feeling a bit sleepy now that it was quite late, when a familiar taxi drove into the hospital; ‘Jah sala, eta toh Mahesh da’r taxi re, ki holo eta? Baliya, Potla dekhlam bhetore boshe, bepar ki, chol chol bhetore chol, dekhe ashi!’ Rajak said, stubbing his cigarette, ‘Damn, that’s Mahesh-da’s taxi, what’s going on? Saw Baliya, Potla inside, let’s go, let’s go see what’s the matter.’ Swiftly, they walked inside – they were not close, but they could see Baliya alighting from the taxi at the entrance of the ED. His yellow sweater was drenched in blood, his hands were bloodied as well – he darted out of the taxi and went inside, screamed for a stretcher or a wheelchair or anything – an empty wheelchair was right next to the counter at the corner, he grabbed it and ran back to the taxi, then, along with Potla, carried out Putu’s limp body, then wheeled him inside. The pink towel with which they covered Putu’s enormous head was blood red now. As they wheeled him inside, Putu left behind a trail of blood on the gray concrete.

*

I’ve seen kids freaking out at the sight of Putu – but since I grew up around him, he was very much a part of my life – his eyes were big, really big, his head was enormous, and his body, frail as a pole, almost skeletal. When I’d go to playschool in the early nineties, he’d run find a taxi for me and my mother during rainy days; once in a while, someone in the neighborhood would send him with a list and some money to go grab some groceries. If he was born in a privileged family, they’d have diagnosed him as autistic or something, but since he was the youngest son of an impoverished electrician, they just labeled him as mad; he grew up on the streets, roaming around in the neighborhood doing odd jobs – at times, he helped the neighborhood shopkeepers deliver their goods to the various apartments of the buyers; the elderly doctor who runs a little clinic in the neighborhood, Putu would help him unlock the rusted collapsible gate, turn on the various switches, receive the odd patient who visited Dr. Bakshi. During political processions, you’d have found Putu marching with the countless heads of party members, he’d get some bread and some chai and he’d make a few bucks and that’d be enough to make him happy for the day. When he was younger, when his parents were alive, he used to help his family by making grocery bags made out of newspapers – but with them long dead now, he no longer made grocery bags. Sometime back, there was this young widow in the neighborhood, who started this business of supplying home cooked meals to the various offices in our locality during lunch time. She employed Putu to go about deliver the lunch boxes – it was a big hit in the neighborhood but alas, business isn’t so easy, her funds dried up soon after and like countless similar ventures, it came to an end; early one morning in September, heaps of cheap leaflets were thrown away in the neighborhood garbage vat, the neighbors were all kind of sad that she couldn’t be in business any longer, people usually join you in grief when you’re going down and chances of you climbing up again are bleak; so, everyone was sad, only the rag-picker kids had a blast making countless paper jets that day.

When you’re vulnerable, when you are lonely and when you have no one to look after you, when there is every chance that you’re going to rot, there is always this possibility that somehow, somewhere, someone is there making sure you are looked after, making sure you don’t perish and rot away. In the case of Putu, the whole neighborhood was behind him. Everyone loved him here, everyone – all of them made sure he was looked after, made sure he wasn’t ever in harm’s way. Of course there were those brats who’d always tease him, but brats had been teasing him for the last forty five years or so, and hence, Putu knew how to deal with them. But then again, for a while, they didn’t bother him so much, especially since the demise of his mother – there was always some elder chasing away the bastards, making sure no one messed with him. Things have been going good for Putu – but just when everyone thought he was managing quite well without his parents, things got a little messed up. For the last six months or so, he’d been acting strangely, going about telling the whole neighborhood about the woman who’s fallen for him – who lavished him with all the love in the world, in whose home he watched cinema during lazy afternoons, the woman who gave him money whenever Putu needed some; his Rani, whom he said, he had finally decided to marry, the sweetheart, who was his everything. No one quite believed him of course, they thought she was just a figment of his imagination, but still, they were somewhat worried, for he would never stop, he would just go on telling everyone about this girlfriend of his. And so, naturally, this created opportunity for the neighborhood brats to tease and taunt him – in Calcutta, when you have nothing except frustrations within you, life makes a master of caustic humor out of you; in bars, in restaurants, at the marketplace, in buses and trams and metros, in the midst of chaotic traffic jams and stuffy cubicles in countless offices, in schools and colleges and playing fields, in the confines of homes and amidst nighttime gatherings over guitar and Old Monk on the roof, everyone has mastered the art of caustic humor. But to tease Putu, you never needed to master anything – to see him flare up, you just had to tell him Rani’s asked him to see her no more; with a roar, he’d start chasing you, chasing you with madness and anger in his eyes; if you ran away giggling, out of his sight, he’d be calm in a while and all would be okay soon after; but if you taunted him a little more, he’d leap and bound towards you, picking up a stone or something from the roadside and all hell would break loose. But then, when you are young, when your blood is hot, you don’t give a fuck, you just do it for the kick, for the rush; in our youth, we all pretend to be some sort of adrenalin-junkie or something, and sometimes, when we take our pretensions a little too seriously, we end up being utterly foolish, messing it all up.

[shipradigital]

Pre Engineered Building Manufacturer in Uttar Pradesh

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