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peggyao3 · 3 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 5 "Prometheus"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Giedi Prime, 2 years later - 10,190 BG

He feels so-

hopeless,

broken.

One should think he has long accepted that there is no one up there in the universe to come and save him.

No one to soothe him at night, in his dreams, after he threw up upon being summoned to quench the Baron's appetite for power, even though Feyd-Rautha's physical appearance no longer meets his tastes.

But Feyd still goes to sleep every night with childish, foolish, laughable hope, only for regular nightmares to taunt him with their sticky embrace.

When he first stopped dreaming, he threw a tantrum, not telling anyone what riddled him. He was given slave warriors to kill and new blades to blunt on human bones. Under the pretense of a training injury, Feyd had ordered the Suk Doctor to examine him, pointing him towards his brain, secretly expecting a hole there, thinking his brain might have devoured itself because he doesn't deserve goodness.

But the Suk declared, there was nothing wrong with him. Nothing aside from the usual, all the invisible things that made him rot from inside.

After a week of lonely nights, he started taking spice before sleeping, knowing that the drug opens the mind, if to prescience then maybe to shared dreams as well. And it worked! Or so he thought the first night when he found a soft hand in his and the kindest voice among all of the stars whispering: "Look, doesn't this remind you of something?"

Every time he tries to speak then, he wakes up screaming, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets that smelled like cinnamon, before he can ask any of the burning questions or say what's been tearing his heart apart. His greatest regret is that he never said I love you back.

Eventually, he comes to a numbing conclusion. That is not his beloved. That is just a memory of her.

He had to stop ingesting when his sclerae became sullied with a tint of blue that bleeds into the irises. That was one year ago.

After the spice came a phase of intense studies in the bowels of Giedi Prime's archives, ignoring the admittedly quite interesting fact that centuries of his own House's history are obliterated and nowhere to be found.

Feyd learned that 23,500 years ago, in the year 13,402 BG, a strike by an asteroid devastated Old Earth, the birthplace of humankind, making it uninhabitable until it was re-seeded with plant and animal life 42 years later and became a natural park, for humans too.

In 200 BG, 10,400 years ago, Earth was once again rendered uninhabitable for centuries by atomics during the Butlerian Jihad which obliterated all thinking machines.

The first Zensunni wanderers, nowadays known as Fremen, are said to have originated from Old Earth and at some point fled in a grand exodus from planet to planet.

How does this information still exist, but not the location of the cradle of mankind among the stars? There are no more recent records. Humankind has spread itself so thin across the universe, the world of their origin has become naught but a fairytale.

Tonight, Feyd smiles at himself in the mirror in his room, trying to curl up the corners of his mouth like he used to, when a bed of white marble with blue pillows occupied by his woman was waiting for him and a fern was rustling in a terracotta pot. But his cheeks won't grow as round as they used to and Feyd despises how he looks and how his eyes stare back at him like frosty marbles, how his face looks like a gaunt skull with no life in it.

The lonely, demonic creature who stares back at him in the bleak mirror is denied access to the dream land and left to rot in his body, in his flesh prison.

Why does he still look at himself in the mirror every night and go to sleep with a tummy ache, only to wake up hollow and like his soul has been carved out of his chest and wonder:

Is she dead?

If she's dead, then what's the point?

Unconsciously he knows what he keeps searching for in the mirror. For any signs that he was ever lovable, or if his worst fears are true, that she abandoned him by choice.

There is no proof that Old Earth is not still out there, still inhabited by humans who may be unaware of how mankind has branched out across the galaxies.

On the other hand, there is also no proof that Feyd's woman has ever been real.

Among the stars

Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are.

"I am… here!"

Wallach IX, 10,190 BG

Around a heavy, wooden roundtable are gathered the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, flanked by the Bene Gesserit sisters Miriam and Sylvia, the Princess Irulan in place of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, a face dancer named Thomin to represent the Bene Tleilax and Gwyn from Ix.

"If you can't stop behaving like animals, this discussion will never find an end!" The Princess Irulan's voice bristles in a way that makes Miriam and Sylvia scoff internally at their fellow Bene Gesserit. Thomin and Gwyn are by Bene Gesserit definition, in fact, animals.

The sun on Wallach IX stands already low above the hills and cascades hazy slants of light into the private conference chamber.

"I simply don't trust gifts from the sisterhood," Thomin smiles coldly, spindly fingers folded on the table.

"She is surprisingly useless," the Reverend Mother replies with equal coldness, gazing through the dark mesh of veil. "Why would we keep her?"

"I must insist on the historical value!" Irulan chides.

"Useless for us, Irulan."

Irulan knows her former teacher doesn't actually intend to hand the woman over to the Bene Tleilax for genetic horrors, so it is really only between her and Gwyn from Ix.

"Well, as a historian, I have undoubtedly the biggest use for her among the honorable attendees."

"I strongly object," says Gwyn. "Her technological knowledge could prove invaluable to us!"

Thomin chimes in. "Her genetic information might give crucial clues as to-"

"You just said you don't trust gifts from the sisterhood, so why don't you let those who wear their real face talk," Gwyn jibes at the Tleilaxu face dancer.

Thomin deflects: "What I would like to know is why the Guild deemed it appropriate to hand over such an exceptional flotsam to the Bene Gesserit."

"Of course, they entrusted us with it," Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "Who else would have been capable of dealing with whatever could have been inside the sarcophagus?"

That makes the attendees grow quiet for a moment.

"What did you say her first words were?" Gwyn asks.

"I am here," Sylvia says. "Naturally, we only found what she said later."

"I'm sure she would like a friend," Irulan ponders. They're still talking about a human being after all.

"Or would you like a friend?" Miriam barbs.

"Enough of this shit," Thomin's chosen face twists into an unpleasant grimace. "I didn't come here to argue with children. Who gets the relic?!"

The woman sits in the school's relic chamber by herself, knees folded against her chest, staring up at Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, or what's left of it, rich blues and swirly stars reduced to faded colors. She wonders if this is what will become of her too in this strange new world. Still, the painting is enough to stir her imagination.

She often thinks of her good friend and beloved Feyd and the many nights they've shared before she entered the long sleep and left him behind. She left him to die in the fires of earth from which only the cowardly could escape as pioneers aboard spaceships, venturing out to colonize the solar system when Earth suffocated beneath the smog of climate change and the rubble of bombs as starving nations tore each other apart.

Expensive suicide is what the people on Earth had mocked the cryogenic pods which would take the pioneers to Mars and Titan as sleepers to reawaken and colonize the solar system. A new home, but only for scientists and engineers.

Some cynics even called their cryo pods sarcophagi.

Often she wonders if Feyd was able to complete his life and escape from his vile uncle, if he found the happiness he so deserved. She can't bear the thought that her poor, hairless Feyd might have eventually died of the cancer she was sure he had. She had never asked him because he had never mentioned it. It had never felt right.

She had abandoned him to live with her family in a new world. Now she is here, 24,000 years late after drifting through space in her lonely sarcophagus, sending a distress signal every few days. And she has no one. Such fundamental loneliness can only be met with apathy and busying the mind.

After the war from which she had fled in the year 2100 as of her own calendar, eventually came what is now called the Butlerian Jihad, many many centuries later. Men had revolted against artificial intelligence and now there are no more computers, only human computers. Her first reaction to that had been: In this new age, no data is anonymous unless you are the mentat. No calculation can be conducted unless you own a mentat.

She pensively traces a spot above her right ear and finds herself mourning after the necklace that was taken from her after she had thawed.

She hasn't come much further with the history books yet. There is so much to catch up on and the language first had to be learned, which had consumed most of her first one and a half years on Wallach IX. Now, two years after her arrival, she feels somewhat solid in Galach, wistfully surprised to find relics from so many Earthen languages in it.

A subtle knock on the door pulls her out of her melancholic trance and her gown rustles around her legs that are used to wearing trousers as she stands. An acolyte has come to pick her up and parade her to the assembly of people who are anonymous strangers to her. In her head, a mean voice calls it an auction.

She has already cried her quiet fury and understood that autonomy is as real as daydreams in this new world. On a chess board full of intricate pieces, she is only a block being pushed here or there, but in truth she doesn't even belong on the board.

Outside, looking to the left, she finds a fern swaying softly in a bronze pot and the memories of loving nights cut through her with such unexpected vehemence, she can hardly breathe. Guilt suffocates her.

However their dreams had passed through space and time, they are no more, and she is all alone and that thought overwhelms her as she pads through the garden with its trimmed hedges and softly gurgling water. The size of the universe overwhelms her. The number of inhabited worlds overwhelms her. The amount of history to catch up on makes her feel like a mote in God's eye and the hostile kind of hospitality from the 'sisterhood' since her jarring awakening fills her chest with a numbing rage.

In a moment like this, this order of manipulative women would pledge to recite the litany against fear, but she refuses to condition her body in such a way. And with that mindset, she hasn't even made it to the rank of acolyte.

"To be completely honest, I don't like the fact that most of the great Houses have been purposely excluded from this," Thomin notes and that makes Irulan wonder too.

"And which Houses are you missing at this roundtable?" The Reverend mother coldly inquires, her patience running thin.

"If the Harkonnens find out that we-"

"Harkonnens?"

Five heads whip around to the new presence in the room, only the Reverend mother moves a bit more slowly and drones: "Good. You are here."

"She looks just like us," Gwyn is baffled.

"Of course, she looks just like us!" Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "What did you expect?"

"Something more primitive perhaps, I don't know."

"You're disgracing your own intelligence in front of our guest."

"Did you just say Harkonnens?" The guest in question inquires, her expression so blatantly haunted that it would make even the most untalented acolyte grow hot with shame, because anyone taught by the sisterhood should be able to mask that.

"Yes, child, what do you know about the Harkonnens?" Mohiam probes.

The sisterhood has let her pick her own studies after teaching her the basics of Galach. She had gone for science first, then art. The reverend mother had disapprovingly clicked her tongue, as contemporary politics and religion would have been the right choice. It proves unequivocally that the woman is of lesser intellect.

"Do you know someone named Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?" Her voice trembles like the strings of an off-tune baliset.

"He is the na-Baron of Giedi Prime?" Gwyn replies as if the inquiry was a test for the attendees.��

What no one expects is for the relic to break down crying so hard, she sounds like a wounded animal, primitive like Gwyn had suggested, producing gut-wrenching noise. The Bene Gesserit sisters turn away with disdain, except for Irulan whose face is painted by confused compassion.

The woman's legs give out and she unceremoniously squats down on the floor, covering her grimacing face with her arms. For the longest time, the attendees think she's merely sobbing, but after a while the sound warps into tearful but distinct laughter as she sways herself back and forth.

"He lives now?" She peeks at the blurry roundtable through the haze of tears. How could this be? Across not only space but time they've communicated simultaneously in their sleep. According to Einstein's theory of relativity, time is supposed to stretch and compress depending on relative motion, but never run backwards. Feyd should have never been able to talk to her.

Unless he really is her macroscopic, quantum-entangled twin, a phenomenon which Einstein himself had described as 'spooky action at a distance', though that was referring to microscopic particles.

"Speak plainly! Who is Feyd-Rautha to you?" Mohiam demands.

Too bad, Irulan catches herself thinking. The woman already has a friend.

"I saw him," she yells. "I've talked to him so many times, I dreamed about him every night back home, for months! He's my friend. I love him." It is ridiculously easy to admit that, even in front of a council of semi-hostile strangers.

"Hm. Tell me something about him, child."

She draws a quick and trembling breath. "Feyd is a-about this tall, blue eyes, pale skin, no hair, v-very sweet and kind, oh God, I miss him so much, please just bring me to him~"

"That could be a lot of people, but definitely not Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." The reverend mother purses her lips under her veil. "Tell us something more distinct."

"He's being abused by his uncle," she snaps with such venom that even the old Bene Gesserit's fingers briefly clench in her lap. The roundtable grows still and only the woman's shoulders heave with hard breaths.

"Then he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen."

Upon that, the woman nearly bursts out laughing. How ridiculous, how cruel that this is what defines him in public and makes him recognizable, not all the sweet traits of his. People of power know of his abuse and no one deems it appropriate to take action against it?

The reverend mother continues. "Your dreams were visions of the future. This is what we call prescience. That you are prescient surprises me."

"They were dreams, not visions! We've talked about current events and each night we could remember the previous ones." She struggles to find the right words in Galach. "We had agency!"

But the reverend mother isn't listening to her anymore, coming to a staggering conclusion with her frighteningly sharp wit. If she speaks the truth, everything points towards their relic being a primordial Bene Gesserit, erratically skilled even without any training. Mohiam turns to her sisters and ponders: "If she was capable of prescience, perhaps her nervous system developed other abilities as well."

"You suggest she performed Prana Bindu while contained in the cryo pod?" Irulan concludes.

"It would explain how her cells survived it for 24,000 years," Sylvia muses. "Her cells should have degenerated irrevocably thousands of years ago."

The four Bene Gesserit in the room turn towards the woman and ogle her like a thing from a curiosity cabinet. If she weren't so emotionally frayed, she would feel flayed by the many scheming glances.

"This changes everything," Mohiam decides. "The guests may return to their guest rooms. I wish you a swift and safe departure tomorrow."

"I thought we had a deal," Thomin complains and kicks his chair back.

"We were far from having a deal," Mohiam says coldly.

Gwyn laments: "At least let me have a look at the cryo pod or the necklac-"

"A swift departure." The reverend mother repeats and tilts her head subtly towards Irulan, emphasizing that this includes her too. Irulan's lips quiver briefly before she straightens her back, casting a longing look at the disheveled woman before she leaves with the others.

As soon as it's only the three familiar faces from the sisterhood, the relic yells: "I refuse to stay here. I don't want your training or even your hospitality, I only want him! More than anything in the world."

To her surprise, the two younger ones flinch and glower, as if suspecting her voice might break out with new unforeseen powers.

"You love him?" Sylvia doubts but is swiftly silenced by the reverend mother with an acute sweep of the hand.

"Quiet," Mohiam addresses the relic "There's no need to throw a tantrum. You will be brought to him as soon as the circumstances allow."

"I- Oh." The woman stands helplessly like a lost child, hands clutched in front of her pelvis as fresh tears well and soon stream down her cheeks and quivering lips. She had expected more resistance, more cruelty.

"Go now. We will discuss more soon." Dumbstruck, she does as instructed and pads out of the conference room, mind caught in a limbo of disbelief and rejoicing.

The three Bene Gesserit remain.

"She must be controlled. I don't have to remind you that one of her first inquiries when she understood Galach was about computers and where to find one."

"She will be distracted, if she really loves Feyd-Rautha."

"Isn't that careless?" Miriam is baffled. Obviously, they shouldn't let the woman go to Giedi Prime and slip out of their immediate reach before conditioning her mind and body to a proper training.

"Her DNA is mysteriously rogue but powerful. That's all we need to know."

Miriam and Sylvia understand now. The reverend mother doesn't intend to train the wayward woman from Old Earth who is too obsessed with her old ways to indulge in the Bene Gesserit conditioning. She only means to breed her with Feyd-Rautha, so that the child may be trained. Since Lady Jessica disobeyed the sisterhood's order and denied them a daughter, there is currently no fitting prospect for the Harkonnen heir anyway.

"And if Feyd didn't share her visions?"

"We will soon find out. Even if he didn't, perhaps he can be warmed up to someone who is so... blatantly and bizarrely smitten with him." The reverend mother can't help the tiny twitch of her upper lip, betraying her disdain.

"So, we will contact House Harkonnen?"

"No," Mohiam declares. "The old Baron will deny their union if we are the ones who initiate. Let the rumors spread and let Feyd-Rautha do the work for us."

In Greek mythology, Prometheus (/prəˈmiːθiəs/; Ancient Greek: Προμηθεύς, [promɛːtʰéu̯s], possibly meaning "forethought") is one of the Titans and a god of fire. Prometheus is best known for defying the Olympian gods by taking fire from them and giving it to humanity in the form of technology, knowledge and, more generally, civilization. Prometheus is known for his intelligence and for being a champion of humankind and is also generally seen as the author of the human arts and sciences.

A/N: The time it took me to get my Dune lore sorted and throw around the dates from the confoozing BG/AG calendar was longer than it took me to write the actual chapter 😭 Also, Frank Herbert, please don't slap me, I tried to match the vibe of the secret meeting in the beginning of Dune Messiah, but I have nothing on thee, Frank Herbert 🧎

P.S. No breeding in this fic, but the Bene Gesserit sure do dream of it.

TAG LIST: @nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon, @sebastianswallows

Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

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screamingfromuz · 1 year ago

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I finally figured out why the response from the global left made me so angry.

Jewish leftist, including myself, never hesitated to condemn the Israeli government and Israeli citizens for their treatment of Palestinians. for example- I know were I was in Huwara. I was calling out the brutality of the pogrom done by right wings extremeness, criticizing it, calling for punishment of the terrorists, warning that this escalation of violence would do nothing but continue the violence. we did not try and justify it as a neutral response for the murder of two people, no, I knew that this kind of behavior has no excuse.

and we did the same every single time. the Israeli left always knew where it was when the Palestinians were the victims of violence, we often stood right there next to them.

and the leftist of the world loved it. held us up to prove that they are right, "you see? even they agree! free Palestine!"

and we expected the same. we expected that if the horrors will come to us, the global left will support us. We knew that they struggle since Israeli missiles hit while Hamas/Hezbollah/Jihad missiles get intercepted by a system that costs millions to operate. but surely, they kept saying that they would have spoken out if the Jews are in danger, they will stand with us in our grief.

and then came October 7th.

and we were shown once again that we are nothing but a token.

people celebrated the attack, and even those who did notת hesitated to condemn it. It was people being butchered in their own homes, a fucking war crime! all while they were hurling hundreds of missiles at civilian targets! at homes, at playground, at hospitals!

and yet, if it was not celebrating, the global left was silent.

I read a colon by a Danna Frank she described how an Israeli women who study in Yell was shaken and crying the entire day, and no one asked for her well being. Frank herself received messages from friends abroad during that day, and one of them asked after the well being of Palestinian waiters in Ramallah and offered them prayers and not ask after her own fucking sake. Seeds for Peace, that always had what to say at the beginning of any Israeli operation, stayed quiet for days, when they did post something, it was to call against violence from both sides, not even mentioning the massacre. and there are so many more instances.

It hurt so much because it was a betrayal. a prof that we are only cared for when we are either a token or dead.

We stood up again and again and again for the rights of others, against our own deeds, and when it was our people left dead on the ground, the quiet was disturbed only by the sounds of celebration.

We should have known

The Israeli left and the Jewish left stand alone in the global stage.

We now know who are allies are.

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tamamita · 4 months ago

Note

I've been seeing pro-Israel comments saying stuff like, "Oh, Palestinians are saying the dead are "martyrs", therefore they're Hamas/Hamas sympathisers". I'm guessing there's more to it than that, does the term martyr have a specific meaning in Islam or something?

Martyrdom is considered one of the most honorable positions in Islam as it means that you fought on behalf of your religion whether spiritually (Jihad al-Akbar) or physically (Jihad al-Asghar). The general idea of martyrdom in Islam is that upon death, you're immediately granted access to Heaven. For that reason, martyrdom is considered one of the most virtuous positions in Islam. So for Hamas fighters, this serves to boost their moral due to their faith-based conviction.

The difference is that a Hamas fighter gets to be buried in honor surrounded by people who love them, while an IOF soldier dies and gets a rod shoved up their rectum.

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sivavakkiyar · 4 months ago

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In June last year, Purola, a small town in Uttarakhand, was in tumult.

A campaign by Hindu right-wing groups demanding that the town be cleared of Muslims had made national headlines. At least 41 families left, with six of them permanently relocating to different parts of Uttarakhand almost overnight.

At the heart of this push by Hindutva groups was the allegation that two men, one of them Muslim, had tried to abduct a 14-year-old girl under the “ruse of marriage” and convert her to Islam.

The campaign kicked off an anti-Muslim frenzy across the Uttarkashi district, where Purola is located, as Hindutva outfits accused the two men – 22-year-old Uvaid Khan and his 24-year-old friend Jitendra Saini – of “love jihad”.

“Love jihad” is a conspiracy theory that accuses Muslim men of being part of an organised plot to trick unsuspecting Hindu women into romantic relationships to ultimately convert them to Islam.

Khan and Saini were not only booked for kidnapping and procurement of a minor under sections of the Indian Penal Code but also for sexual assault under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, or Pocso.

Leaders of the Bharatiya Janata Party, which governs the state, stirred up the communal pot with insinuations about “outsiders from a certain community” swamping the hills.

A year later, however, the case against Khan and Saini has collapsed. On May 10, a court in Uttarkashi acquitted both men after it found that the allegations against them were false.

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girlactionfigure · 6 months ago

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Jewish Defiance

Below is the speech I gave at a tiny, spirited protest of Jews - and their allies - who faced off a vast, snarling, swarm of pro-Hamas racists marching through London. Thank you to the organisers and those who turn up every week to show the indomitable defiance of the few.

This is a nice day out, isn’t it? What a lovely day out? Isn’t it nice to shlep into London when we could be doing anything else? We all really wanna be doing this on a weekend, don’t we? It ain’t what I want to be doing with my life. I don’t want to be here. I don’t think any of us wanna be here. These idiots are making us waste our time. But you wanna know what’s even more stupid? They’re wasting their time because they are not going to win. The State of Israel and the Jewish people are not going anywhere. We haven’t gone anywhere for three and a half thousand years. We’ve seen off the Romans, the Babylonians, the Nazis. We’ve outlasted all of them. And we’ll outlast these schmucks. Because antisemitic movements don’t have a long shelf life. History is not kind to the antisemite. And neither should we be. Any antisemite who transgresses should be made to suffer within the full scope of the law. They should be made to suffer consequences, socially, occupationally, legally.

Let’s be clear about who they are. We are not the same as them. They are fakes and frauds. Their calls for “ceasefire” aren’t about peace? You’re not for peace if you’re for globalising the intifada. You’re not for peace, if you’re calling for a Palestine from the river to the sea. You’re not for peace if you ignore, justify or excuse Hamas and their rocket attacks and their acts of terrorism against the Jewish People. You’re not for peace if you don’t condemn Hezbollah for firing rockets. You’re not for peace, if you don’t condemn the theocratic, Mullah regime of Iran and their complicity in all of this. You’re not for peace if you haven’t been calling for the complete and unconditional return of the hostages since day one.

If these liars on the streets of London were for peace they would be marching with Palestinian AND Israeli flags. But they aren’t. If they were for peace they would be screaming for the end of Hamas - a criminal rape gang of Islamic fundamentalists dedicated to jihad and the total extermination of all non-muslims. But they aren’t. These liars, these frauds, these Jew haters feign their tears and call for a ceasefire when the rapists Hamas are under the cosh, but they cheer when Israel is attacked. Sod them.

We on the other hand ARE for peace. There is no Jew that doesn’t want a world of peace and love. But you can’t shake hands with someone who’s trying to punch you in the face. And that is all our enemy does. Since Israel’s inception we have extended our hand in peace. But we have been met with punches, and knives, and rocks, and bullets, and car rammings, and rockets, and bombs, and rape, and torture, and murder and kidnapping. And if the world just expects us to take that. And to smile. And to say thank you world for allowing us to be murdered - then sod them. We are not the world’s punching bag, and we will not be sacrificed because of the non-Jewish world’s problems, or because of a superior, supercilious and utterly misplaced notion that they somehow own us and can dictate to Jews who we are, how we must live and how we are to die.

No one else decides our destiny. We do. When our destiny was in the hands of the world - the world bullied and slaughtered us. Zionism liberated us from the shackles of an abusive relationship with the world. And no one gets to tell us we go back into that relationship. The dynamic has changed. Get used to it. Zionism is the self-determination movement of the Jewish people. It is OUR liberation movement. Not yours. It is OUR civil rights movement. Not yours. The minute a non-Jew tries to define who the Jews are, or define Zionism or control our story - they prove exactly why we need Zionism - to liberate us - from them.

And like an abusive partner, many in the world can’t handle us being free. They can’t handle seeing us happy, thriving and getting on with our lives. Antisemites in Europe and America can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority making choices for themselves when they believe that they, the oh so cultured and civilised non-Jewish world, knows best. And antisemites in the muslim world can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority thrive outside the totalitarian confines of Islamic theocracy.

And so they come after us. Wanting to enslave us again. Not gonna happen. We will never be second class citizens or dhimmi again. And if you don’t like it that we fight back - good. I’m glad you don’t like it. Fuck around and find out. We’ll go as long as we need to.

And let me reiterate here: Jews don’t want violence. There are a million things we’d rather do. You are stopping us from achieving our full potential by making us have to fight you. We don’t want to spill blood. Jewish laws reiterate relentlessly the sanctity of blood. And then there was King David - who wasn’t allowed to build the Temple, because his hands were tainted with blood and the wars he had to fight. We are Jews and we wanna do good shit. We want to make advances in art, science and medicine for the good that it brings and for the joy of simply enriching our knowledge of this world.

Jews do not want war. But be under no illusion, if you bring it to us we will give you a war. Because there IS a time for war just as there’s a time for peace. And the time for war is when THEY come to kill us. Don’t fuck with Israel. Because our ancestors weren’t just shepherds and prophets and judges - they were warriors. And what was in them is in us. And just as they gave hell and triumphed over their enemies - we will give our enemies hell and we will triumph and we will win and then we will laugh and we will sing and we will dance - and with a bit of luck - we will make love and create more Jewish babies.

Look at the idiots out there who want to destroy us. They have to sing repetitive rhymes en masse - like morons in a cult - because they’re scared to be individuals. They’re scared to think for themselves. Scared to speak for themselves. They’re scared to be different. They’re scared to stand alone. They need nursery rhymes because they’re scared to engage in the complexities of an imperfect world. They’re morons.

Look at the numbers they have to gather in to feel brave enough to chant what they think? To shout that they want jihad and to kill every Jew between the river and the sea?

People who gather in that volume in order to shout at Jews are scared of Jews - and they should be. Because we’re fucking awesome. Being small in number is not a weakness. It is our superpower. It’s always been the Jewish superpower. It gives each of us ten times the resilience of those who rely on numbers. Never forget, no matter how surrounded you feel, strength is not in numbers, it is in your soul, it is in your heart and it’s in your resourcefulness. And we’ve got all of that. We are small in number but the things we’re each capable of are mighty. So go out every day and be mighty.

And don’t ever forget what Hamas did and what these people support. Darkness. They support darkness. There has never been more moral clarity to a fight than the one we face. What Hamas did on October 7th - demons from hell would ask them to be their teachers. And Hamas promise to do it again and again. A ceasefire is not peace. It’s a downpayment on future blood shed. It’s an investment in future war. The first step for the Middle East to even have a chance of peace is for Hamas to be gone.

Hamas are not the same civilisation as us. No peace can be made with them or anyone who thinks like them.

Our civilisation is worth protecting because it offers something good. The next time you’re in Jerusalem go and visit the Kingdom of David and you will see how precarious our origins were and how miraculous it is that we are still here and the responsibility we have to protect ourselves. David’s Kingdom was tiny. A tiny hillside that offered something new. A small outpost of light in a sea of darkness. It offered a revolution. It rejected what surrounded us. And what were we rejecting? We were rejecting the cruelty of those who engaged in child sacrifice. We were rejecting those who worshipped Moloch and set their own children on fire.

Now look at what’s happening today! Nothing has changed.

We’re facing an enemy who still sacrifice children. Deliberately. In Hamas we have an enemy who encourage their children to die, to blow themselves up, to set themselves on fire, to become so-called martyrs and shaheeds. We face an enemy whose parents praise Allah if one of their children blows themselves up with a suicide bomb to kill other children. We face an enemy that teaches their children in kindergartens, in schools, in mosques and in the home to die. We face an enemy that deliberately hides behind its own, and prevents them from seeking safety, so that they can be harmed in a war that THEY started. We should have no ambiguity and no doubt that we are on the side of good, and that good must triumph. Not just for us, but for this planet, lest that the ancient darkness faced by King David conquer every hillside and plunge the whole world into a night without end.

I want to leave you now with something important. The most important thing. What’s going on with our cruel and wicked enemies is deadly - but it’s also theatre. It’s designed to be a spectacle that scares you. It’s designed to make you crumble inside, give up and walk away. But it’s clear from your presence here today that you will not. And that none of you ever will. I wanna say that you are all fucking brilliant. All of you. You don’t even realise how brilliant you are. Seven months into the most disgusting war against us and here you all are standing tall, not backing down, ready to go on for as long as you need to. You are epic Jews, equal to any Jews of the past.

And don’t let the world spin your heads. Because mark these words: this is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. It is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. Because we’ve always had enemies. There have always been those who’ve risen up to kill us. But this time, this time we have the State of Israel. The Jewish People are home. They are in their indigenous homeland and they will never be uprooted again.

And because we have the State of Israel we will never be as vulnerable as our ancestors. As bad as things sometimes feel we will never know how vulnerable they felt when the rug was pulled from their feet. And they would be SO happy for us. We are the luckiest Jews in 2000 years. With Israel we can defend ourselves. We can fight back. We have an army. We have infrastructure. We have technology. For the first time in 2000 years the Jews can truly fight back. And if our enemies wanna bring it, they will know we can fight.

So you can be anxious now and then. But never, ever give in to fear.

In this life you can be scared. You can be messed up. You can even be fucked up. But the most important thing is to show up. Always show up and give a good account of yourself and with God’s grace we will always triumph. God bless you. Baruch HaShem.

LEE KERN

#Jewish Defiance

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itssideria · 9 months ago

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re: Martyrs, Palestine, Islam, and the 'death cult'

Since the start of the Gazan genocide, I have seen dozens of posts and speeches along the line of "Those crazy Palestine supporters! Those crazy Palestinians! They are so obsessed with death! They celebrate death, isn't that just disgusting? Isn't it disgusting?" In the wake of Aaron Bushnell's passing, such statements are becoming more frequent. They now point to a perceived celebration of suicide—"Those Palestine supporters and their glorification of self-harm! How could you ever stand with such a cause? The entire culture glorifies death!"

This post isn't meant to argue with the people saying this. For a group that is supposedly so anti-death, you see them constantly equivocate on genocide. Instead, I'm hoping to reach those who might have questions—and they are fair questions! Why are the killed Palestinians martyrs, rather than victims? Why do Palestine's supporters hold this as a badge of honour? Why are Palestinians, and Muslims at large, 'so obsessed with death'?

Hello! I am your local non-Palestinian Muslim! Hopefully you'll find some answers here.

In the context of the genocide—and, let's be real, the last 75 years of Israel's existence—the word 'martyr' is a translation of the Arabic word shaheed. 'Shaheed' comes from 'shahad', the verb 'to witness'—to witness, because in Islam, their status is that of eternal reward. They witness heaven before anyone else. Unlike a non-martyr, whose soul remains buried until the Day of Judgement, a shaheed's reward is immediate and indisputable—heaven, eternally, no matter what.

You may then wonder what exactly being a martyr encompasses. The Western image of the martyr is often centred on war—someone killed in battle, holding a gun or a sword. With this image, it is easy to make the leap that Islam therefore rewards war and conquest: this is how you get the whole 'Muslims are violent and want to kill everyone in jihad' bullshit. (And FYI, jihad likely does not mean what you think it means, but whatever. More on that in a bit.)

However, that is just blatantly untrue! Martyrdom in Islam can include death on the battlefield when protecting a just cause, yes. Martyrdom in Islam also includes death by plague (COVID, influenza), death by drowning, crushing, or fire (natural disaster, unsafe housing, travelling), death by internal disease (cancer, infection), death in childbirth, and, finally, death when protecting one's family or property from an oppressor.

That last one seems familiar, I hope.

Why these specific instances? Well, one, because we have them recorded in reliable hadith. But also because these individuals die in a state of jihad—literally, in a state of great effort. Like martyrdom, jihad can encompass fighting in some war somewhere, but often, just means exerting effort to do something that pleases God.

And these people? They die in the process of exerting massive effort to pursue a good cause: to protect their loved ones. To become well after illness. To travel toward safety. To survive. Shuhada (the plural of shaheed) have died exerting the greatest effort of all, and for this, they are beloved to God. They attain heaven immediately. They are forgiven for whatever sins they may have incurred.

For Muslims and Palestinians, this invocation of martyrdom isn't some celebration of death. In a just world, zero Palestinians die. But this world is unjust, and thousands are still dying. The invocation of martyrdom, therefore, is an expression of hope, of resilience, of comfort to those still living: yes, they have died, but they have died in a state of jihad. Yes, they have died, but they are up there in heaven, they are happy, they are safe again. To a parent who has lost a child, to a sibling who has lost a sibling, to people with dead friends, this insistence on martyrdom is a comfort in the midst of a massive, unending grief. They did not die a victim, they died a witness—and insha'allah, they will receive their reward. To decree someone a shaheed is to honour them. It doesn't celebrate their death, but rather affirms the circumstances of that death, and celebrates the subsequent reward.

TL;DR: Martyrs are martyrs because in Islamic scripture, they have died fighting oppression. Martyrdom is a form of death that guarantees heaven, and for those who have lost loved ones, it is a comfort and hope that their loved ones are receiving the ultimate reward. Stop being fucking rude to Palestinians.

Sources: who is classified as a martyr?, wikipedia page on shahid

#i am not a palestinian so like. palestinians feel free to add on or tell me to shut up etc #but as a muslim arab. i grew up knowing this. so hopefully can inform others!#palestine #gaza #israel #free palestine #free gaza #islam #aaron bushnell #mari talks

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lowtaperfeyd · 4 months ago

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Hello! May I please request a Paul x reader where reader is struggling to adapt to the heat on Arrakis and needs a bit of love and care? Because they may do horribly in high temperatures but they will follow Paul to the end of the Earth (Sincerely, someone with horrible temperature regulation)

Stricken

Paul Atreides x Reader

author's note: I hope the heat doesn't get you too badly 😔 and that you enjoy this. STAY SAFEEEE

warnings: effects of heat stroke(nausea, dizziness), mentions of blood but none.

wc: 837

“Are you alright?” He whispered, bringing them from their trance. His hand was laced with (Y/N)’s as they stood on the ship. They had just landed on Arrakis and the heat began to attack them before they reached the ground. The blood in their face ran away from them and dispersed elsewhere. Sweat was pooling out of pores making the baby hairs on their face stick to their slick skin.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said as they let go of Paul’s hand and wiped it on their ceremonial attire, “yeah it’s just a bit warm.” Their voice sounded exhausted and depleted. Even though, hours prior they were fine.

“Okay,” Paul swallowed. His face was contorted with looks of worry and confusion. They were fine before, he thought, what happened now?

The procession began with the blaring sound of bagpipes and the marching of feet. But (Y/N) didn’t notice any of it over the sound of blood running through their ears. It was all hazy and unclear as the hours ran by. Until spots that were colorful and dark at the same time raced line of sight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“(Y/N),” they heard from somewhere far away in their mind, so far it didn’t feel real. It was a floaty and slow sensation, almost nauseating. It felt like there was excess weight on their shoulders. Too much pressure, too much around.

“(Y/N)!” Their head rattled backwards and forwards, from an unknown force moving their shoulders. Vision was cloudy and filled with the same spots as before. If songbirds were on Arrakis they would definitely be flying around their head. After what seemed like hours, their eyes cleared and they saw a very concerned brunette in front of them. His eyebrows pierced together so tightly; it created a stitch in the middle of them. His hands were on their shoulders and he was kneeled in front of them as they sat in an armchair in an unfamiliar bedroom.

“Paul…” they breathed out, their voice hoarse from lack of use and dehydration. His hand moved from their shoulder to the junction between their neck and jaw. With his other hand, he grabbed a glass of water that rested on an end table next to the armchair. Slowly and carefully he brought the cup up to their lips.

“Drink slowly,” he prompted. (Y/N) took a few sips before asking, breathlessly.

“What happened?”

“Well,” he gulped, “you passed out in the hall as we were exploring.” He set the glass down back on the table.

“And where am I now?” They whispered.

“My room, I, I didn't know where else to go.”

They looked around the desolately empty room, save for a bed, bedside table, desk, wardrobe, and of course the armchair. He scurried away from the chair and moved to the desk.

“I had Doctor Yueh check you over, make sure you were okay.” He commented. “He said you have heat stroke. He advised that you shouldn’t stay in your ceremonial clothes, at risk you could overheat again.”

They looked down at the clothes they were wearing. A white linen shirt and a pair of dark pants of the same material. Clothes that looked suspiciously of Paul’s.

Sure they were close in a certain regard. They had deep discussions about the universe and what could've happened if the Butlerian Jihad hadn’t occurred, they ran through the tall grass that was riddled with wildflowers on Caladan, they had even kissed under the stars one cool summer evening. But nothing more than that ever happened. No one, not even a Bene Gesserit sister or Mentat, could say what was between them, but they all saw the potential.

“That's very smart of him.” they added, a little flustered. (Y/N) began to stand. It all seemed fine before the dreaded spots returned and the blood flushed from them. Paul rushed back over to steady them. A hand was on a hip and an arm. (Y/N)’s hand grabbed his forearm.

“He also advised that you should rest before trying to do anything strenuous.” he retorted like a stern mother.

He led them to lay on his bed, a few steps away. The bed was cool and soft beneath them like a personal cloud just for them. Paul gently pulled the covers over them and tucked them over their chest. He sat on the edge of the bed close to them, ready at a moment's notice in case they needed anything. His hand began stroking the top of their head.

His gentle eyes met theirs, “Just rest, please.”

(Y/N) stifled a yawn, “okay…” It was cool and comfortable, all too easy to feel into a peaceful slumber. As they laid their dozing, they felt a soft, chaste kiss placed on their forehead. Whose lips belonged with no doubt to Paul.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Yueh: Paul’s friend (Y/N) fainted today.

Lady Jessica: Are they alright?

Dr. Yueh: Yes... But let’s just say a certain someone was pretty concerned…

Lady Jessica: oh? … OHHHHHH

#paul atreides x reader #dune x reader #paul atreides #house atreides

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sgiandubh · 1 year ago

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This is not a political post

One more time, in caps and bold: THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL POST. But if I can, as a diplomat and a historian, bring some extra context and try and understand what happened today in S's world, so be it. Enough said about me.

I am fumbling with a ton of thoughts since this morning, when this link was shared with me by one of the closest people in my platoon:

In a nutshell: S signed that (in)famous letter, an initiative of APUK (Artists for Palestine UK), a network that's been operating since 2015. You can read it in full if you open the link and I suggest you do. You will soon find out that the letter, while correctly pointing out the atrocious gesture of bombing a civilian hospital in Gaza, asked the world's governments to 'end their military and political support for Israel’s actions'. Nowhere in that letter did the word Hamas appear, which would immediately point out as supporting what is a terrorist movement that is, alas, also part and parcel of the Palestinian government, under Mahmoud Abbas's weak, irrelevant aegis. The man is an old PLO/Fatah crone: fishy, ineffective and fairly corrupted. His position on the Holocaust is, to be elegant, a study in ambiguity. Enough said.

It is pointless and absurd to try and explain the whole situation in detail. I would have to go back at least to the Balfour Declaration (1919) or the no less infamous end of the British/LoN/UN Palestine Mandate (1948), if I wanted to simply scratch the surface of a subject that is everywhere these days. With an intensity of absolutely legitimate emotions that can simply not be measured by any counter on this planet, as we speak.

But the facts are here, and naïve S had no damn idea: 500 civilians were killed, Tuesday night, in the bombing of the al-Ahli Baptist/Arab Hospital in Gaza City. Hullaballoo ensued on a cataclysmic scale: first, Hananya Naftali, a digital aide to Benjamin Netanyahu recklessly wrote on X that the "Israeli army [Tsahal] bombed a Hamas terrorist base inside a hospital in Gaza". Then erased the tweet. Several video collages released by the Tsahal, the first of which was heavily contested by a NYT journalist (and former Bellingcat researcher) Aric Toler, point out towards the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad)'s forces being responsible for the strike.

These quotes from an Al Jazeera paper sum up the ensuing scandal better than I ever could - selected by me, but you can and probably should read it all (https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/10/18/what-is-israels-narrative-on-the-gaza-hospital-explosion):

No craters mean no airstrike and most probably a rocket failure. The uneasiness remained, that being said, at the highest level. And the planned US-Egypt-Jordan- Palestine talks hosted by Amman were abruptly called off hours before Biden landed in Tel Aviv.

To cut the story short: the letter is right to point out that you just don't bomb hospitals when you are at war, as per the terms of the Fourth 1949 Geneva Convention, dealing with the protection of civilians in times of war. Both Israel (signed in 1949/ratified in 1951) and Palestine (2014) are, as parties and signatories, legally bound by it, in the eyes of International Law. The only problem with it is that it purposefully omits to put things into context (whodunnit) and forgets the cynical truth: Hamas keeps hundreds of innocent Israelis and two millions of innocent Gaza civilians as its hostages.

Article 18 is at the core of the matter:

The last thing S should have done is to sign that fucking treacherous letter, without getting a second (third, fourth...) opinion.

S is a good man, we all know and love this about him. He is also one of the most naïve people I have ever seen in this lifetime. This is why his final reaction really, really moved this cynic, here:

I am taking this home and keep it. It deeply moved me (yes, me):

" I don't know nearly enough and trying to educate myself on the conflicts in the Middle East. I feel helpless and wish I could help in some way.'

I am sure 'someone nice' called and 'nicely asked", maybe even offered some scarce and biased details, to prompt an impulse signature. I am also sure S didn't read the letter himself. There is no harm saying you were wrong. He did it with dignity and grace - no, it was not easy.

This is a man of worth speaking. Bravo!

But for the love of all that's holy, Sir: don't you ever step into this kind of shit again. These things are far more complex than you could ever fathom and it's a very cynical world out there. Leave it to us, we are handsomely paid for it by our governments. I hear you and I am completely supporting this more than welcome withdrawal. It's not worth much, for sure. But it is an honest POV.

Also, John 8:7:

So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

Kindly refrain from politics in your comments. Let's not drag trash where it should not be, ever. Thank you all.

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wyrmwhispers · 4 months ago

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On the idea of “is Paul lying about this being the best path” my interpretation is no, he's not. At the very least not purposefully lying, although it may not be the actual truth. And by that i mean that there's no future where all the Harkonnens die miserable painful deaths and then yippee the Fremen rule Arrakis and Paul is there living happily ever after with Chani, that he sees. but what i do think is true is that the path Paul chooses is the one that allows him to meet all his goals which, in relative order of priority I'll say are:

revenge on the harkonnens

keep the people he loves alive (jessica, chani, alia)

free the fremen from harkonnen control (maybe, if it's convenient or if he has time)

and the really shitty thing about this list is that number three is extremely convenient and helpful for number one but not in a good way and number one is really non-negotiable for him. Like from his perspective he needs revenge against the Harkonnens, that's why he joins the fedaykin because fighting against the Harkonnens like that feels like revenge. But the idea of taking it all the way to the top and getting revenge not just against the Harkonnens but also the emperor for killing his family and the entire imperium for standing by and doing nothing is too tempting for him to ignore. And he caveat on the second point is that the people he loves being happy isn't necessary just that they're alive. (*cough cough* Chani in the movies *cough cough*)

So i think that the future Paul picks, the narrow way through is the one that satisfies all those best and you'll notice that “do right by the oppressed indigenous people” and “don't murder 62 billion people” aren't really on there. not because he doesn't care about those but… he doesn't really in comparison to the aforementioned goals. Post-water of life, he sees "the best path through" where he gets everything he wants and sees the jihad as an acceptable price and reasons it as "inevitable" whether or not it actually was.

all of this means that yeah, to him there very well may only be one way and yeah the one that he chooses is the best one from his perspective even if you've read the books you'll know that he kind of fails at point number two in trying to protect both Chani and Alia.

Lastly, in the later books Leto II talks about the Golden Path and that its the only way to save humanity and blah blah blah. Frank Herbert pretends like he mentioned it in Dune and Dune Messiah but he didn't. Although I do believe he had some ideas about it in Messiah but it wasn't fully formed until Children of Dune. How I always interpreted that in retrospect is that Paul saw the Golden Path but wasn't willing to make the sacrifices necessary (becoming a sentient sandworm god, living for four thousand years, etc. which... fair) and tried to half walk the Golden Path without ever fully committing to it and fucks it up and leaves it to Leto II. All of which to say, the Golden Path isn't a thing in the original book so the "narrow way through" is not the Golden Path because Frank Herbert hadn't made it up yet and its not what I'm talking about.

#people who are like “oh pauls an unreliable narrator and therefore hes probably lying about this being the best path” annoy me just a little #because like yes he is an unreliable narrator but also do you really think he's just straight up lying to the narrative #whats that post thats like “do you really think the character would just lie about that” or smthn #bc it makes no sense for him to just completely lie #and on the last bit about CoD ill admit im only about two thirds through god emperor so if im entirely wrong about the golden path thing #let me know #ive always thought the reason why leto ended up taking the golden path and not paul is because #paul was entirely too human and letos was never really human maybe ill make another post about that #dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #dune 2024

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sandwormrp · 5 days ago

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Under The Light Of The Moon

Paul Atreides x Irulan Corrino 905 words

Summary: Taking place after the final battle between Feyd and Paul. Marriage to Irulan is inevitable, but what if it was to become a slow burning love instead? Messiah alternative universe.

Fuel a writer's fixation by liking & reblogging their work!

His own knife slid into him faster than he could move back from it. His breathing broke into a grunt of pain. Echoes of the people around him gasping in their despair. Paul staggered back when Feyd cast him aside. The Harkonnens mistake was not finishing him then. Pain and exertion took their toll on his body. He panted for air, the sharpness of it in his ribs with every inhale. The battle was over. This was it. They knew it. He knew it.

Paul was able to take one last glance back to Chani as Feyd approached. He didn’t move. Didn’t try to back off or pull his knife from his wound. One path. One more chance. Feyd would want to make a spectacle of this. Paul knew any other alternative would be his death. He wouldn’t count how many times he’d seen variations of this moment.

His hand shot up to grab at the offending blade drawing in towards his heart. Feeling it cut through into his hand as it was pushed towards it’s fatal mark.

‘I have you’

‘Aye, but look down, my lord. You’d have joined me in death. I see you found the mood.’

His other hand shifted with speed. Last chance. One final strike sank into his opponent. His blade. The blood flowed more freely from the wound into his suit. Feyd’s eyes changed from triumph to realization. They both sank down. That was too close. Feyd had been an excellent fighter, his final words spoke of his skill and respect. The people around him broke into ovation. An ovation of calls not to him, but to their god. Lisan al-Gaib. Now to be spread across the world in his name. This wasn’t to be celebrated, he thought.

Standing up straight and looking between the former Emperor and Irulan, his wife to be. He’d made a promise that he’d keep her safe. Paul would keep to his word, though he knew it meant losing Chani. He’d seen a time where she’d come back. He’d try to hold onto that. His eyes never left Irulans. Pity felt in the curl of his heart. This is the way it had to be, but he still felt sorry for her.

—

After all was said and done, Paul was given medical treatment and the blood of Feyd would be cleaned away from the floor. He knew the Fremen would’ve only taken the water only to replenish their stillsuits. Being a Harkonnen, his water was impure.

“No,” he would say when he saw what they were about to do. “Give him full funeral rites. His water is now mine. It’s to be given to Irulan at the ceremony tonight.”

He spoke to the people, but it was also for the benefit of his wife-to-be in knowing what came next. He knew his words wouldn’t be challenged by anyone, but the significance of them was felt by the Fremen. Feyd was being honoured. Lisan al-Gaib’s reverence was to be followed as the word of god.

Paul ran on autopilot. Going from one motion to the next. Emperor Atreides. Mahdi. Lisan al-Gaib. Future sight made him less inclined to feel anything for one moment or another. His mind was elsewhere. Grounded by the discomfort and pain of being alive. He couldn’t afford to remain despondent. Ships were already being prepared to be filled and sent in the first wave of his jihad. None would know the true horrors of how damaging this path will be until it’s all said and done.

Once night fell they were to be married out in the open desert under the light of the two moons. Paul had sent Irulan to remain with her entourage until the ceremony. She had the Fremen at her disposal. Paul had ordered house staff to go to her and see to it she’s cared for. They’d likely offer to dress her traditionally for the ceremony.

He’d been taken and cleaned up. His suit removed and gone for repairs. Redressed in traditional Fremen attire. He waited at the entrance of Arrakeen alone. The rest of his wedding party and his sietch had already gone scouting ahead. He was to travel there with Irulan. He suspected she’d never been out in open desert. While the threat of worms was minimal especially after they tired in battle, the deserts were never completely safe.

He kept his hands folded together in front of him when house staff brought her to him. His good hand covered the bandaged one. They left at his signal. Finding himself truly alone with her for the first time. Paul didn’t move right away for them to begin the trek. Anything he thought to open with fell flat on a quiet tongue. None seemed like the right thing to say.

“Are you doing okay?” he finally settled on. Knowing this was all new to her. Paul didn’t know exactly how much she knew about Fremen culture. She was book smart, he knew that much. “We’ll have stillsuits waiting for us at the sietch. We’ll be there before sunrise. The ceremony out in the desert won’t take long. I’ll talk you through it as we travel. Here.” He dipped into his pocket with his uninjured hand. Pulling out a small chain with coin-like rings attached. It could be used as a bracelet or worked into her hair or outfit. He held it out to her expectantly.

Continued on our jcink rp!

#paul x irulan #dune #dune roleplay #dune rp #jcink #jcink rp #irulan corrino #paul atreides #lisan al gaib #princess irulan #dune messiah au #jcink site #site post #rora writes #timothée chalamet #florence pugh

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