#solar panels questions

[solariex]

someone save me from the idiots ive been stuck with for 5+ years...

[scp-1296]

A few months ago my cousin and his friend rigged up a solar panel to a used car battery in order to power a bunch of Christmas lights they'd used to decorate an abandoned and possibly condemned mansion.

So yes, i absolutely believe that a bunch of twenty year old yeshivah students dug an illegal 60ft tunnel under a synagogue with unclear and quite possibly non-existent goals, without the knowledge of their teachers. Sometimes these things just happen.

[schoolhater]

great question. while a lot of these gofundmes started to fund evacuations, since the border will not open they have shifted to covering the costs of daily survival in gaza

the cost of food alone in gaza right now has been reported by journalists on the ground (including @siraj2024) to be 20 times the normal price.

and it varies based on location. the north is currently being starved by the IOF so food prices are higher

and there is a lot of evidence on tumblr that proves that these fundraisers do help

@ma7moudgaza2 was able to buy a tent for his family and is currently trying to pay for a solar panel

@siraj2024 was able to secure rent for a (bombed out, but still) apartment for his family over the winter

@mohdiwais was able to fund medical care for his sister after she was shot by the IOF using funds he raised on tumblr

a gaza-based charity called care for gaza has also been directly assisting families with funds used from their gofundme. they even post videos of themselves giving out food

and those are just a few examples. hope this helped!

[solarpana]

7 Questions to Ask Your Solar Panel Technician

When hiring a solar panel technician, it's important to ask the right questions to ensure you're making an informed decision. Whether you need installation, maintenance, or repairs, these 7 questions will help you evaluate their expertise and reliability.

Are You Certified and Licensed? Make sure the technician is properly certified, such as by the North American Board of Certified Energy Practitioners (NABCEP). This certification shows they have the necessary training and expertise to handle solar systems safely and effectively.

How Much Experience Do You Have with Solar Panels? Experience matters, especially with solar systems that require specialized knowledge. Ask how long the technician has been working in the industry and what types of solar systems they've worked on in the past.

Can You Provide References or Customer Reviews? A reputable technician should be able to provide references or direct you to online reviews. Hearing from past clients can give you a clearer picture of their reliability, quality of work, and customer service.

What’s the Expected Timeline for Installation or Repairs? Understanding how long the work will take is key. Get a detailed timeline of when the technician can start and complete the project, and ensure it aligns with your schedule.

What Is Included in the Quote? Be sure to ask for a clear, itemized quote that includes all costs associated with the work, such as labor, materials, permits, and any additional services. This helps avoid hidden fees down the road.

Do You Offer a Warranty or Guarantee? A good technician should offer a warranty on their work. Ask about the specifics of any warranty or guarantee on both the installation and the components of your solar system.

How Do You Handle Emergencies or Repairs? Solar systems can sometimes experience issues unexpectedly. Inquire about the technician’s process for handling emergencies and repairs, including their response time and availability after installation.

Asking these questions will help you find a trustworthy solar panel technician who meets your needs and ensures the long-term performance of your solar system.

[srpl-group]

What is the term for connecting multiple solar panels to form a larger system? a) Parallel Connection b) Series Connection c) Grid Connection d) Combined Connection

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[mangocatastrophe]

I saw this image on facebook

Genuinley curious, how come this isnt a widely done thing? (I pressume this isnt widely done because this is the first time I’ve heard of it) Is it hazardous, is it inefficient, is it way too expensive? I’d like to know

I beseech thee, Science Side of Tumblr. I have not tiktok, so I can’t ask Hank Green

[neverendingford]

.

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie walks into the kitchen one evening to find Steve supervising their daughters as they work on homework.

Steve’s attention is on Robbie at the moment, and he’s got his hands on his hips as he looks over her shoulder with a questioning look on his face.

This in and of itself isn’t anything unusual, because Robbie’s their kid who tries to get out of homework most often, so it takes a second for Eddie to realize that what Steve is doing is trying to encourage Robbie to do less on an assignment.

Steve: Hon, I really think you just needed to fill out the footprint calculator thing.

Robbie: I’m going above and beyond, Pop.

Eddie: What about just doing the bare minimum with this and all your other homework and then see how you feel?

Robbie: No.

Robbie: I have a vendetta.

Eddie: Okay, against who?

Robbie: Ethan Miller. He wouldn’t shut up about how his family’s gonna have the lowest carbon footprint out of the entire class because his house has solar panels.

Robbie: I wanna prove that we have the lowest.

Steve: Why do you think we have a lower carbon footprint than the Millers?

Robbie: Because you adopted us.

Robbie: So there’s, like, no additional carbon emissions of entire new people.

Robbie: You reduced and reused.

Robbie: I don’t think it could count as recycling.

Steve:

Steve:

Steve, pulling out his laptop: Okay, let’s look into this because Ethan’s mom is really effing annoying about those solar panels and I’d love to be able to one-up her for once.

Eddie: Oh, god.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao

Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.

The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.

The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.

They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.

At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?

Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.

Anyways!

They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.

All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.

Go figure.

Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.

The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.

Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.

Gordon sighs. Figures.

So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.

At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.

Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.

Haha. Nope.

So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.

Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into�� over the counter pain medication.

Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.

Danny waves at Alfred.

Alfred waves a tiny finger back.

“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”

Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.

“You understand me?”

Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.

“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”

Danny gestures to the blister packet.

“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”

The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.

Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”

Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.

“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.

Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.

“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”

Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.

Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”

Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.

Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.

He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.

“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”

Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.

“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

[hope-for-the-planet]

From the article:

It’s difficult to overstate how rapidly Australians have embraced solar power, and how much it has exceeded expectations. In 2011, the forecast was that rooftop solar would eventually contribute 4 terawatt hours of electricity. In the context of the Australian grid, this was next to nothing – barely 2% of total generation. For some, it raised the question of whether it was really worth the cost. More than a decade on, that number has been eclipsed more than six times over in the five eastern states connected by the country’s main power grid. Rooftop solar panels connected to the National Electricity Market generated 24.6TWh over the last year of data. Put another way, homes have contributed 11.6% of electricity – nearly as much as wind farms, comfortably more than large-scale solar farms or hydro plants, and twice as much as gas-fired power. More than 3.7m households and small businesses have solar systems. It means more than one in three homes across the country generate their own power when the sun is out.

[lordcrumps]

The Sims 2 For Rent - CC EXPANSION PACK

Sul Sul!

~ More photos under the under the cut ~

Last week the Sims 4 got a new pack, this week Sims 2 players get that same pack! In a collaboration with @platinumaspiration and @tvickiesims and a HUGE assist from @episims, we bring you "The Sims 2 For Rent CC Expansion Pack!"

This is a large set, and advisable that it does not get merged even further than it already is! - I ran into some issues when trying to do this!

When you explore this pack, please take a look at the marble ring rug, it has some surprisingly cute rug swatches! I put a swatch in it to remove the marbles themselves, so you have a cute small rug! - I only mention this as I was going to bin the rug off once uploaded, but then I found it had some lovely swatches!

FUNCTIONALITY

So most of the items will function as they should and intended as. Its just not just deco items.

There is two collection files included, separated into build buy! Please note that fences and stairs and spandrels cant be but into a collection!

The squatty toilet that took me over 12 hours to make, yeah they squat, animation can be a bit bouncy but such is life. This toilet also can be flushed, get dirty and is cleanable!

Outdoor plants are seasonal!

Counters are animated with insides built, there is no drawer on the counter, I did not want to change the shape of the unit, and saw EA did the same - ignore the fact they grab something from a non existent drawer

Wardrobes have interiors elements, and have working doors!

Each Kettle have two versions, choose only one, one for the colour traits mod / one 'normal'. They function as Tea makers! Huazzah!

Spandrels in build mode are classified as fences. I made a variant with fence / no fence.

Several of the larger deco pieces such as the Arch Gate, or umbrella are actually lights!

Radiators act like radiators!

The Aircon Unit is completely functional, doesn't lower bills, but it does lower sims temperatures!

"Water Heaters" act like solar panels, they get money off your bills!

The Electrical Fuse box has 2 versions, I kept them both in, one wall deco and one functions as a burglar alarm - I wanted more alarms.

Most Sofas / Chairs have morphs!

Slots added to the Vanity and Bathroom Cabinet!

FENCES / SPANDRELS / STAIRS OH MY!

I have included swatch images of each of the spandrels, fences and stairs and labelled them to match, this is so that you can go in and take out any of the swatches you do not want. This is because there are lot of new fences and the menu can feel cluttered with them in for some people.

DOWNLOAD

ALT - SFS

~ Credits / Thanks / List of items not converted under the cut ~

MORE PHOTOS

CREDITS

Mini fridge is cloned from Targa over at MTS - so now it works just like a regular fridge barring a few animations (get baby bottle and juggle)

Kettles were cloned from @pforestsims's kettle, link here.

@jacky93sims for the base of the squat toilet! Epi for the code edits!

THANKS

@tvickiesims, @platinumaspiration thank you soo much for helping with the objects, really couldn't do it myself!! Your amazing, awesome, and some of the best creators out there! Thank you again!

@episims - YOU ARE DA BOMB! Thank you for all your help in getting those toilets working with me, and everything else you do when you answer my little annoying questions! Appreciated like you wouldn't believe!

LIST OF ITEMS NOT CONVERTED - @sims4t2bb

Due to the sizing / functionality of these objects, they will not be included in this pack!

All Yer Fixins Untenable Food Stand

Mali's Moonlight Market Craft Stall

Vegan Vittles Night Market

Late Night Snack Dessert Stall

Rice to Meet You Night Market

The Unrestroom

Fisherman's Slats Window - Tall

The Secret Maze Window - Very Tall

The Secret Maze Window - Super Duper Tall

Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Tall

Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Tall and Open Wide

The Save Us From Ruin Tallest Cinched Wall Curtain

The How Many Times Do We Need To Tell You It's Not Silk Taller Wall Curtain

The We Are Going To Jail< Tallest Wall Curtain So You Know the Truth Curtain

[novaursa]

hey nova, could you make sandor x reader or tywin x reader (what came naturally for you). the reader is princess of dorne. maybe the reader heard they don't want to marry her, saying she's plain, etc. maybe angst hehehe. but if i also want them to grovel at the reader, like regret everything as they falling in love, but the reader has trust issues so doesnt want to give in.

You Who Tried

- Summary: Some of the greatest tragedies never had a chance to be mourned.

- Pairing: martell!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: I've made this little more serious. I hope you don't mind.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, its warm glow dancing against the dark wood-paneled walls of the solar. Tywin Lannister sat behind his carved desk, a half-empty goblet of Arbor gold in his hand, untouched correspondence splayed before him and ignored. The candlelight cast shades across his face, aging him more than the years ever could. He stared into the wine as though it might whisper answers, his expression grim, eyes dark with something unspoken. It had been a year. One year since that night, the night of his wedding to the Princess of Dorne. One year since her hand had trembled within his own as they danced before the court. One year since her eyes, wide and bright like twin suns, had searched his face with a reverence that had startled him more than he had ever let on. He had been a conqueror that day, a lion who had claimed not just a bride but a realm of southern alliances and future security. Yet now, as he sat alone in silence, that night lingered like a ghost, pressing cold fingers against his spine.

He remembered her chambers clearly—fragrant with orange blossoms and lemons, the silk of the Martell banners swaying slightly from the windows cracked open to the cool night air. She had waited for him on the bed, not yet unclothed, her posture straight despite her bare feet and the loosened braid that draped over her shoulder. She looked regal even then, even young and untouched, like someone carved of ivory and sunlight. He remembered the color of her eyes—amber ringed in deeper gold—and how they lifted to meet his as he entered the room. There had been no fear in her, only that dangerous thing he now knew better than to underestimate: hope.

"You came," you said softly, as though you hadn’t expected him to. Your voice was calm but your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles pale against the fabric of your nightdress.

"It is our wedding night," Tywin had replied, his tone clipped, precise. Duty had always come easily to him—whether steel or oaths or flesh. He had not come to wound you. He had come because it was expected, because alliances were forged not just in ink but in blood and consummation. He had steeled himself against softness, as he always did. He had not meant to be cruel.

You had not shied from his touch. You had looked up at him as he approached, your eyes searching—questioning, yes, but trusting too. Your breath hitched when he took your face in his hand, tilting it slightly so he could study you better. You were beautiful, undeniably, and you smelled of sun-warmed citrus and spices he’d only ever encountered in war campaigns. Your skin was gold-touched, your lips parted in anticipation, and your gaze so open it unsettled him. No one looked at him like that. Not even Joanna had looked at him like that—not with such innocent belief. You had looked at him like he might be more than a lion in a cage of stone and obligation. You looked at him as though he could be tender.

"Will it hurt?" you had asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For a moment," he replied. "But you will be fine."

You had nodded, trusting him. Trusting him.

Tywin downed the rest of his wine in one swallow, the memory burning hotter than the alcohol. He could still feel the silken glide of your skin beneath his hands, the way your body arched hesitantly beneath him, and how you whispered his name the first time he entered you. Not my lord, not Lion of the Rock. You said Tywin like it was something precious. And he, in turn, had been careful—perhaps not gentle, but measured. Efficient. He had kissed you once, more out of necessity than affection, and when it was over, he had remained long enough to see the blood staining the sheets, a grim satisfaction curling in his chest. The seal was done. The alliance had been made. The honor of both houses preserved.

You had turned your face toward him as he dressed again, still beneath the sheets, your lashes damp and cheeks flushed. “Will you stay?” you asked, your voice soft but not pleading. “Just for a little while.”

He had fastened the last of his buttons, adjusted his belt, and replied, “There is much to see to in the morning.” He had turned without looking back and left your chambers in silence, his boots loud against the cold stone. He had not seen your face fall—only imagined it later, after the door had closed. But the image had haunted him nonetheless. A flicker of something had dimmed in you that night, not extinguished, but altered. He had seen it the next morning when you entered the Great Hall, clothed in Lannister crimson rather than Martell orange. You had smiled, performed your duties flawlessly, but your eyes had changed. There had been a shadow where before there was fire.

That was the beginning. Or perhaps it was the end. He had not touched you again.

Tywin poured more wine with an unsteady hand and leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. A year had passed, and you had been the perfect wife in every way—dutiful, gracious, political where required. But never again had you looked at him like you had that night. You had stopped asking him to stay. Stopped meeting him in the gardens. Stopped waiting up for him. You had grown cold—not in anger, but in quiet, resigned indifference. And he had let you. Gods forgive him, he had let you.

He stared into the fire and thought of the girl who once looked at him like he could be more than the sum of his titles. Tywin Lannister felt something unfamiliar curdle inside his chest. Regret.

The halls of Casterly Rock echoed with silence at this hour, the keep heavy with the stillness that only came after the lords had gone to bed and the servants had stilled their steps. Tywin sat again in his solar, though this time the goblet in his hand had long gone cold. He wasn’t drinking tonight. He didn’t need wine to summon the memories that plagued him now—not when they came so easily, like ghosts waiting only for him to be alone. His mind wandered once more, against his will, to her voice, to the lilting cadence of it, full of music and color, always vibrant even when it grated against his composure. She had tried, gods forgive him, she had tried so very hard.

In the weeks that followed their wedding, you had not been content to merely exist beside him. You had sought him out—in the garden walks, in the solar, even in the corridor outside the council chamber, always with that same determined grace. You had come to him like sun rising over red dunes, warm and brilliant and strange. He had not known what to do with that. He had not been taught to receive warmth. His world had been forged in steel and stone, not sand and sunlight.

“Do you know how the first Martell prince took his throne?” you had asked him once, seated across from him in the solar after supper, a book open in your lap, your eyes glinting with curiosity rather than pride. You were not boasting—never boasting. You simply wanted to share a story.

“I imagine it involved blood,” Tywin had said dryly, not looking up from the document he was reviewing.

You had laughed softly. “All thrones do. But he did it through marriage. He wed the warrior-queen Nymeria. She brought ten thousand ships and a whole people with her. He gave her equal rule and took her name instead of forcing her to take his.”

Tywin had looked up then, faintly irritated. “And what lesson am I to take from this, my lady?”

You tilted your head, considering. “That strength does not always look like conquest, my lord. Sometimes, it is in yielding without being defeated.”

He had said nothing after that. He had returned to his writing, and you had closed your book, the light in your eyes flickering but not extinguished. Not yet.

There were more nights like that. You brought him fruits he did not eat, books he did not read, stories he did not ask to hear. You told him of the Red Mountains, of the basilisk-infested ruins of Yeen, of your mother who once rode a white sand steed faster than the Dornish wind. You spoke of your eldest brother with reverence and mischief, how he used to carry you across the hot stones of the palace barefoot, so you wouldn’t burn your feet. You told these things with a softness that was never self-serving—always a hope that he might say something back, that he might offer a sliver of his world in return.

But Tywin had never learned to speak in the language of affection. His tongue knew the taste of order, of correction, of decree—but not of warmth. He had not asked about your brother. He had not touched the slices of blood orange you left on a silver plate beside his wine. He did not turn when you stood behind his chair with a hesitant hand near his shoulder, waiting to be invited closer.

And yet, you tried.

You tried still when you invited him to walk the gardens with you under the moonlight, and he refused. You tried when you sat beside him with parchment and ink, hoping to write to Sunspear together. You tried when you sang beneath your breath, old Dornish songs with melodies so foreign they ached in his ears. You tried when you sat across from him at meals and smiled, always smiled, even when he didn’t look up.

And then—then, one day, you stopped.

He hadn’t noticed it at first. He was a busy man. The day-to-day demands of rule did not leave time for frivolous thoughts of wives and gardens and stories from far-off deserts. But the silence grew. The tray of untouched fruit no longer appeared. The space beside him at supper became filled with cold conversation and absent eyes. You sat like a statue now, your face perfectly arranged, your voice no longer lit with curiosity, only civility. You ceased to seek him. You ceased to speak of Nymeria, of old songs, of the brother who carried you barefoot. You ceased to try.

It was then that Tywin had looked up from his writing one evening, a line of ink drying crooked on the page, and realized the solar was too quiet. No footsteps approached. No voice asked if he needed anything, if he had eaten, if he would walk with you. There was no scent of citrus or sun-warmed spices lingering near his desk. The absence struck him like a blade between the ribs.

He rose without thought and went to your chambers that night. He had not been there since the wedding. He expected—he didn’t know what he expected. Perhaps the old you, the hopeful you, sitting in your chair by the window. Instead, he found the fire burned low and you asleep already, turned away from the door. You had drawn the curtains around your bed. He could only see the shape of you beneath the coverlets—still, unmoving, far away.

He stood there for longer than he should have, a shadow among shadows, before turning and leaving in silence.

It was too late.

And Tywin Lannister, who had bent kingdoms to his will and never wept for anything—not for his father, not for his wife, not for his pride—realized that for the first time in his life, he had lost something not because it had been taken from him, but because he had let it die.

[childrenofcain-if]

Has there been any instances where Mc and C did work together other than the fake baby thingy?

the science lab was filled with high schoolers scrambling to set up their projects, all of them either too caffeinated or not caffeinated enough for the stress of the prestigious state science fair in washington.

the tables were crammed with an impressive array of projects: models of volcanic eruptions, elaborate circuits blinking in synchronized colors, experiments with soil composition in tiny terrariums. but none of them held a candle to your table, and you knew it.

you worked quickly, your fingers deft as you adjusted the components of the intricate apparatus. the machine—an elegant contraption meant to demonstrate clean energy storage using solar capacitors—was you and C’s brainchild.

they had done the research, the design, the equations scribbled out with ruthless precision in their sharp handwriting. you’d handled the practical end of things: soldering wires, programming the software, ensuring that their theoretical masterpiece could actually, you know, work.

you didn’t notice the way C stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly, their posture as stiff as a statue’s. their chalcedony green eyes followed your every move like a hawk watching its prey, catching each adjustment you made, each tool you reached for.

finally, they cleared their throat. “you’re doing it wrong.”

you sighed without turning around, tightening a bolt on the panel. “good morning to you, too, lacroix. nice to see you’re in a supportive mood today.”

“supportive?” their voice had that sharp, clipped quality it always took on when they thought you were being deliberately obtuse. “i’d be supportive if you weren’t—” they made an exasperated noise, gesturing vaguely at the machine. “look, the angles on the solar panels are all wrong. the light’s not going to hit them efficiently like that. it’s basic geometry. i explained this to you yesterday.”

“okay,” you said evenly, glancing at them over your shoulder. “anything else?”

C blinked, their expression flickering into something almost like confusion. “you’re just... accepting it? like that?”

“well, yeah,” you said, shrugging. “you’re the brains behind this, aren’t you? if you’ve got more suggestions, i’m open to them.”

C suddenly seemed at a loss for words. the tips of their ears turned a faint pink, and they glanced away.

“well, i, uh...” they began, before scowling at you like it was somehow your fault they’d stumbled. “fine! move the reflector two inches to the left.”

you did as they asked, your motions slow and deliberate. “happy?”

“stop talking to me,” C snapped.

you blinked at them, incredulous. “you’re the one bossing me around!”

C ignored you, their nose tilting upward in that infuriatingly haughty way they’d perfected.

***

when the judges arrived at your school’s section, the air grew thick with anticipation. there were four of them—an engineer from spacex, a college professor from MIT, a tech startup CEO, and some local entrepreneur who had been introduced as a ‘philanthropist.’

they moved from table to table with an efficiency that made your stomach churn. you’d been rehearsing your answers for days, but there was something about the way they scribbled on their clipboards that made even your confidence waver.

but the presentation began smoothly enough, much to your relief. C handled the technical explanations, their voice steady and precise as they guided the judges through the intricacies of your design. you handled the broader picture, spinning a compelling narrative about its real-world applications.

but when the judges started asking questions, something shifted.

“so, who came up with the original concept?” the engineer asked, pen poised over her notepad.

“well,” you started, “it was—”

“me,” C interrupted, their green eyes glinting. “i developed the initial framework.”

you gave them an irritated look. “what they actually meant to say was that it was a joint effort.”

“sure,” C drawled sarcastically. “you jointly borrowed my calculations and then messed up the assembly two separate times.”

you bristled. “maybe if your diagrams weren’t as convoluted as your personality, i wouldn’t have had to ‘mess up’ anything.”

“convoluted? that’s rich, coming from someone who thought capacitors and resistors were interchangeable—”

“that was one time, and it only happened because you mislabeled them!”

the judges exchanged glances, two of them clearly trying not to laugh, the other two looking mildly alarmed.

“would you say you two work well together?” another judge ventured cautiously.

“oh, absolutely,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“can’t agree more,” C added, voice as flat as a table.

the judge raised an eyebrow, scribbling something down.

by the end of the presentation, both of you were red-faced and fuming, but the machine worked perfectly, and the judges seemed reluctantly impressed.

***

after the presentation, you and C sat side by side in the waiting area, the hum of chatter and distant applause filling the space. your hands rested in your lap, but when you shifted slightly, your fingers brushed against theirs. the accidental contact sent a jolt of heat up your arm, and you risked a glance at them.

C was staring angrily at the floor as if it had just demanded to drain their bank account, half of their face buried in the high collar of their dark green turtleneck. the tips of their ears had turned even more pink. their foot tapped against the floor in rapid, agitated beats.

when the winners were announced, your names rang out together, tethered like an inevitability.

you and C locked eyes, both startled, before standing up in unison. the applause was loud, but all you could focus on was the awkwardness of walking side by side to accept the award.

you still fell into step beside them, the trophy handed over in a flurry of handshakes and flashes from the crowd’s cameras.

the microphone passed between you two for the acceptance speech.

“we’d like to thank our school for supporting this project,” you began, glancing at C.

“and, of course, this wouldn’t have been possible without the cooperation of my... partner,” they added, their jaw tightening as if the words physically pained them to say.

you were tempted to laugh at how they looked like they were having a particularly bad case of indigestion, but managed to keep a straight face for the cameras.

***

after the ceremony, the two of you lingered near the refreshment table. C cleared their throat awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“you did... good,” they muttered.

you cocked your head, thinking you misheard them. “what?”

“i said you did good,” they repeated, louder this time. “you didn’t embarrass us. much.”

you snorted. “thanks, i guess. you weren’t too bad yourself.”

C hesitated, their eyes darting to the trophy in their right hand as their other hand fidgeted with the edge of their aldervale prep blazer.

“you’re smart though,” they said finally, their voice softer than usual. “you would’ve won without me.”

the admission startled you. “was that... a real compliment?”

this time, C’s cheeks turned pink as well, and they huffed loudly, turning on their heel. “i’m leaving. and i’m taking the trophy.”

“wait, what?” you snapped out of your stupor and hurried after them. “that’s not fair, lacroix! we both won!”

“too bad, starkid,” C called over their shoulder, their tone maddeningly smug. “you want it? come and get it.”

you groaned, chasing them through the crowd. “lacroix, get back here!”

and for the first time all day, C’s smile was genuine enough for their dimples to show.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - October 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles on Patreon!

1. All 160 dogs at Florida shelter found homes ahead of Hurricane Milton

“[The shelter] offered crates, food and anything else the dogs would need in exchange for the animals to spend just five days with the foster parents if the human didn't want to keep them for longer. […A]fter about a day of receiving around 100 messages every 30 minutes, Bada said, all 160 were gone from the shelter and in safe and warm homes.”

2. Restoring Ecosystems and Rejuvenating Native Hawaiian Traditions in Maui

“[Volunteers] are restoring water flow to the refuge, removing invasive species, and restoring a loko iʻa kalo using ʻike kūpuna, ancestral knowledge. […] This human-made ecosystem will provide food for community members and habitat for wildlife while protecting coral reefs offshore.”

3. Solar-powered desalination system requires no extra batteries

“In contrast to other solar-driven desalination designs, the MIT system requires no extra batteries for energy storage, nor a supplemental power supply, such as from the grid. […] The system harnessed on average over 94 percent of the electrical energy generated from the system’s solar panels to produce up to 5,000 liters of water per day[….]”

4. Threatened pink sea fan coral breeds in UK aquarium for first time

“The spawning is part of University of Exeter Ph.D. student Kaila Wheatley Kornblum's research into the reproduction, larval dispersal and population connectivity of Eunicella verrucosa. […] Pink sea fans are believed to have been successfully bred by only one other institution, Lisbon Oceanarium, in 2023.”

5. Tiny 'backpacks' are being strapped to baby turtles[….]

““We analysed the data and found that hatchlings show amazingly consistent head-up orientation – despite being in the complete dark, surrounded by sand [… and] they move as if they were swimming rather than digging[…. This new observation method is] answering questions about best conservation practices,” says Dor.”

6. New California Law Protects Wildlife Connectivity

“A new state law in California will instruct counties and municipalities to conserve wildlife corridors when planning new development. […] This could entail everything from creating wildlife crossings at roads or highways, employing wildlife-safe fencing, or not developing on certain land.”

7. ‘I think, boy, I’m a part of all this’: how local heroes reforested Rio’s green heart

“By 2019, [the program] had transformed the city’s landscape, having trained 15,000 local workers like Leleco, who have planted 10m seedlings across […] roughly 10 times the area of New York’s Central Park. Reforested sites include mangroves and vegetation-covered sandbars called restinga, as well as wooded mountainsides around favelas.”

8. Alabama Town Plans to Drop Criminal Charges Over Unpaid Garbage Bills

““Suspending garbage pickup, imposing harsh late penalties and prosecuting people who through no fault of their own are unable to pay their garbage and sewage bills does not make payment suddenly forthcoming,” West said. [… The city] has agreed to drop pending criminal charges against its residents over unpaid garbage bills.”

9. New Hampshire’s low-income community solar program finally moves forward

“The state energy department is reviewing seven proposals for community solar arrays that will allocate a portion of their bill credits to low-income households. […] New Hampshire’s strategy of working with utilities to automatically enroll households that have already been identified streamlines the process.”

10. The Future Looks Bright for Electric School Buses

“EPA has awarded about $3 billion in grants from the infrastructure law, which paid to replace about 8,700 buses. Of those, about 95 percent are electric. [… Electric buses are] cheaper to operate and require less maintenance than diesel buses and will soon be at cost parity when looking at the lifetime cost of ownership[….]”

October 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 14 "A World in a Grain of Sand"

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: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/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, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

A/N: Giving you the eyebrow 🤨 because no one seems to have picked up on a tiny, little, important detail that was to be found in the last chapter, or at least no one mentioned it 😌 Finally I can write what I really crave to write. IT'S SCIENCE TIME 💖

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 31

"I have one last question, little slave," Vladimir Harkonnen drones from his afloat position, a celestial body of massive dimensions in front of the somber backdrop of his throne room, black within black with only a single glow globe illuminating the back of him. He prefers to shun the black sun these days, as glorious as it may be, it brings out the myriad of spider veins beneath his frail, aged skin.

"Yes, Lord Baron?" The unremarkable slave's voice echoes from below.

"What is this… ancient piece of metal in my dear nephew's toy's room?"

"I believe you must know more about it than I do. I assume you had it examined before it was unloaded and brought inside?"

"Naturally!" Vladimir raises his voice. The slave with her bowed head can't see the way the aged Baron squints to get a clearer picture of her. Afloat as he is, she is little more than a splotch of white against black, and an unwelcomely blurry one.

The examination had revealed a human shaped mold, cushioned with gel pads, thick tubes for coolant, a recycling system with residue nutrient solution, solar panels for energy harvesting. No traces of radiation or explosives. It almost seems like the metal box is exactly what the sisterhood had made it out to be. A hibernation chamber for a fossil from another time. However, it wouldn't be the first myth created by the Bene Gesserit.

"I know you are looking for something substantial, my Lord, and so was I," the slave speaks after the Baron's elongated pause. "But I'm afraid the truth is as embarrassing as it is mundane. I've come to believe that she keeps it close out of raw sentimentality. She's a sentimental creature, that woman."

Lilia has always loved danger and the long, twisted inkvine scar on her shoulder from girlhood days is just one proof of that. Perhaps that's why she so effortlessly serves the Baron velvet lies.

"Ah-h-h, like my Feyd-Rautha then. It doesn't surprise me," the Baron drawls, lungs expanding with a raspy heaviness to each intake of air.

In all his years as Giedi Prime's sovereign, Vladimir Harkonnen has never learned that the promise of a kind embrace outweighs the threat of violence tenfold and that a spark of human goodness can sway a servant's loyalty quicker than a snap of a whip.

"She calls it her sarcophagus," Lilia adds with a tiny scoff that doesn't go unnoticed by the Baron now that he has lowered himself and sinks back into the much more comfortable seat of his throne. The intimidation tactic has fulfilled its purpose.

He bellows. "So, she's got good humor too! A pity she's not a boy. I could have borrowed her sometimes."

The obedient set of Lilia's shoulders and her lowered gaze don't betray the noxious clench that has her stomach convulsing. Perhaps this is the only advantage of being a woman in the Harkonnen palace pyramid.

Day 45

The lack of color that had once bothered her into the throes of a slowly crawling depression is now a pleasure. The blackness of her abode has come to serve as the perfect desktop for columns of text and equations, formulations and simulations and hand-written notes that have her mouth moving and her eyeballs racing.

Her sarcophagus leeches the day's sun, side panels open to give way to rotating cooling fans. The Central Processing Unit of the computer that makes up half of the machinery inside buzzes from the strain she puts on it.

Astronaut M2-84 has finally come home and picked up the work of her own, chosen destiny.

Talking to God, Mikhail had whispered to his wife, is what the Lady is doing. But what she really does is think, read, calculate. Engineers born on the cusp of the astronautic age don't have their oily hands in tool boxes. Most of the time, they tell machines how to build other machines, and to do so, one needs to understand the laws of physics. 

This is how Feyd-Rautha finds her each night. Sometimes sunken against the cushions of her bed, or slumped over her desk, staring at the wall with dancing pupils. And other times, like tonight, she sits right by her Sarcophagus, shoulder pressed against the humming metal. She claims the connection between computer and chip is quicker this way.

Silently, Feyd's stride carries him across the room towards his precious engineer. Movement catches his attention at the right and the sight he finds causes a slow tilt of his head.

One quarter of her bed is filled out by a misshapen form, tucked under duvet and whalefur. Glugo lies prone on its stomach, limbs folded tightly against its covered body. Only one front arm-leg peaks out and cradles her plushie against its innocent pug face. Something glossy-white with small handles on each side is held in front of Glugo's mouth by tiny face-hands with liquid sloshing inside.

She has tucked Glugo in like a toddler. And, from the looks of it, she has printed it a sippy cup.

Feyd-Rautha feels all sorts of warmth filling out his chest. If because he wants to be tucked in like a toddler, or because his only friend is finally receiving the gentleness it deserves, or because of a different reason entirely, he can't tell. He raises his hand to wave at Glugo who gurgles softly in return, one tiny face-hand unlatching from the cup handle to wave back.

Glug glug glug.

"You're losing weight." Feyd approaches his beloved slowly. "I don't like it."

"One second, I'm at ninety-eight point five. Seven. Ninety-nine."

"Have you found out anything interesting today, my darling?"

He is long past asking what exactly she's doing, why they aren't simply figuring out a way to get his uncle to take his shield ring off so they can get a blade between his ribs. Or rather a sword, to pierce the obscene, fatty flesh costume he calls his body.

"Your spice—" His darling slurs with a concerning jump to her pupils.

"I don't take spice anymore." Feyd tilts his head and squats down before her, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Ah, wait, what do you mean, not anymore?" Finally, her eyes regain focus and her arms fill with tension, fingers moving up to encircle Feyd-Rautha's strong wrists.

"There's my darling," he smiles with pretty, full lips and glinting teeth, stroking her cheeks. "So, what about my spice?"

"Not your spice in particular." Her hand flings out to gesture at the universe above. "Your spice shares a few molecular compounds with the medication I took to prepare for the cryo sleep." 

Feyd-Rautha's features slip into disbelief, a fresh frown carving deep into the smooth expanse of his forehead.

"Why does this surprise you?" She wonders.

"Spice is unique to Arrakis. Power over the spice means power over everything. How could you have had spice back on Earth without sandworms?"

"First of all, spice, much like anything else, is just protons, electrons and neutrons. With the right tools, you could, in theory, synthesize any molecule."

"And you have such a tool in your Sarcophagus?" 

"No! God, no." She laughs out loud and curls her arms around Feyd-Rautha's shoulders in a much needed embrace. Her very eyeballs ache and her spine feels calcified from leaning against the sarcophagus.

To him, it must seem like the solution to just about anything might be hidden in her cryo pod or in her precious chip, but it really holds only a fragment of the technological advancements of Old Earth. The last generation before mankind had embarked to the stars was an ingenious one. They had to be, and their knowledge is safely tucked into the 80 Billion terabyte hard-drive of her supercomputer. She may not have all the tools, but the knowledge to build them — in theory.

She taps the top of the cryo pod and hums. "Building molecules from scratch is not like building houses out of toy blocks. You need to accumulate tremendous amounts of energy in a lab environment to trigger complex chemical reactions."

"You've already built a chair from scratch, and a gun. And now a sippy cup for Glugo?" He states with an incredulous rasp of his voice.

"I couldn't bear seeing it drink from dog bowls anymore. And it struggled so much with cups and glasses, Lilia had to change the sheets twice because the poor thing kept spilling everything."

"You… You are fascinating, my darling." She doesn't miss the spark of arousal that lets Feyd's eyes half disappear under a fan of long lashes. "My point still stands, you've built other things before."

"Yes, but the materials were already there, I just had them pressed into the shape I desired." Feyd tilts his head and she cradles his jaw, stroking across the plushnes of his cheeks. "Were you not taught about chemistry?" Slowly, he shakes his head. "Ah, well, I will explain it to you another time then."

Feyd slides his mouth into her palm, groaning softly. "You know so much. How is it possible that you had spice 24 millenia ago?"

"Not spice. I said my pre-cryo medication shares a few interesting enzymes with spice." She slides one palm around Feyd-Rautha's nape of the neck and softly brings their foreheads together. "My people also used to think their own civilization was the pinnacle of all that has ever been. It was unthinkable that maybe the Aztecs or Sumerians were more advanced. That's how you are too. 

   You think spice is unique to Arrakis and the technological advancements you have derived from the Holtzman effect are the peak of what is achievable, because it suits you so nicely. But human evolution has never been a linear incline. You have fascinating medicine, Gholas and space travel… But who knows, maybe my people were smarter than yours. Maybe our engineers and chemists were smarter."

"You know so much," he moans again and she knows better than to keep boring him with details. One day, when the many other fires in his heart have settled, she can stoke his interest in science. Feyd is smart. He will come to be fascinated by it. 

"This universe is devouring itself because there is no innovation," she softly murmurs. "No one dares to go further, look further, break out of the pattern. Maybe they don't want to, because the consequences scare them. Mentats only do as their Lords bid…"

When Feyd's lips close in on hers, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy stare, her ramblings subside into grateful, blissful silence, choosing to welcome his tongue in her mouth instead.

Day 59

"Silence!"

The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam's voice ripples in the shape of a waveform pattern across the engineer's interface, recorded many decades ago by Baron Harkonnen himself and transferred to the House archive for research purposes.

Other lines of the same encounter, she is certain, were deliberately removed. Such as when the Reverend Mother, then a young woman, had ordered the Baron to hold still so she could mount him and steal the seed out of his body that would sire the Lady Jessica.

She only knows of this story because of Feyd-Rautha, and what it had cost him to learn it, she doesn't even want to know.

"Silence!"

She can only imagine that Piter de Vries' research on the matter might have consisted to a considerable amount of snide mockery, going by Feyd's recountings of the late mentat, hence why the files were so perfectly abandoned and ready for her to pick apart.

Carefully, she separates the impressive cluster of different wavelengths that make up the audio fragment, finding portions all the way from the high-frequency to the low-frequency audible spectrum, some even so low that they are no longer perceived as sound by the human ear.

The astronaut remembers how the Reverend Mother had tested her in an archaic show of deference, forced onto her knees with her hand in a box while the older woman addressed the pain receptors in her brain via an inaudible wavelength. She may not have moved her lips, but that doesn't mean she didn't cause the air molecules to oscillate.

Technically speaking, this renders the mysteriously omnipotent sisterhood into little more than ventriloquists. That image of demystification offers at least a little comfort to the humiliation provided by the memory of searing pain in every nerve.

She reclines in her chair, swallowing against the dry itch in her throat while she strings together a few fairly simple lines of code.

Curiously, the voice doesn't affect her physiology when played from an artificial source, such as the micro speaker soldered onto her chip's tiny board.

She can only assume that by manipulation of the larynx, wielders of the voice can propel pressure waves in a way that a speaker can not. How exactly this forces the human brain into submission, the engineer cannot tell, but she doesn't need to, to tinker on some offensively simple counter magic to the Bene Gesserit's seemingly almighty tool of control.

Noise cancellation is as simple as letting a speaker emit a sound wave with the same amplitude but an inverted phase. The sound waves cancel each other out in destructive interference.

As much as this scientific victory entices her, it frustrates her endlessly that all of the side research she picks up to take her mind off the real problem bears more fruit.

"Refreshments for you, my Lady!" Lilia's voice snaps her out of her brooding thoughts. The maid slips through the door, bringing a tray of fresh fruit and the stimulating citrus drink that her Lady has come to enjoy as of late. "It's been three hours, it's time to take a break."

"Ugh, three? Felt like one." That explains the dry throat. The relic arches her spine and presses her knuckles against her closed lids until tiny flashes prickle across the dark.

Lilia's footsteps close in at her side along with four other pairs of hand-feet. She sets the tray down on the desk.

"And have you made any progress today, my Lady?"

"Not with the one thing that matters, but yes." She reaches for the pitcher but finds her hands gently shooed away by Lilia who insists on pouring the glass for her, tiny bubbles fizzing in the lemon water.

"Oooh! Have you thought about these visions, my Lady?" The handmaid's ears perk up with interest, enamored with the story of how Feyd and her Lady had gotten to know each other in dreams ever since she had indulged her.

Lilia regards the phenomenon of their getting acquainted with the eyes of a romantic. For the engineer however, this is the only topic that frustrates her more than finding a workaround for the Holtzman effect to get past the Baron's shield.

"Dreams, visions, I don't fucking know. I don't even want to think about them because they drive me fucking crazy." The engineer reaches for her glass and drinks with big gulps, making the maid flinch by how forcefully she slams it back down.

The crescent shaped scar she herself had created on Feyd's clavicle when grappling for his blade is the same that had decorated his skin in their lucid dreams. So, visions? But the topics they had discussed during their shared nights are events of the past. It defies logic, it's paradox. The thing that scares her the most, however, is the fact that the Baron's abuse was still real in those dreams. If they truly were visions of the future, does that mean her research is in vain and he will live?

There is no phenomenon that can't be explained, not even prophetic dreams. But not by her, and not yet.

"Sorry," she apologizes and rubs her temples, finding Glugo staring at her with big, milky eyes, one hand-foot clinging to Lilia's skirt. The engineer's heart softens at once and she leans towards her insecure looking friend. "Aw, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to scare you both, my poor, little— Aw!"

Glugo curls four out of its eight limbs around her calves and rests its chin on her knee, pearly eyes aimed unerringly at the pitcher of sparkling drink on the desk.

"That's citrus," she explains. "I don't think you'll like citrus…"

One of the Tleilaxu creature's oily-black hand-feet clutches the table's edge, another incessantly reaches for the glass container.

"Okay, fine, but just a tiny sip. Where's your cup?"

Glugo glugs cluelessly, looking at Lilia for help. Still, both women are uncertain if the being has any grasp on human language, or if it simply recognizes a question by the inflection of one's voice. 

The handmaid locates Glugo's cup in the folds of the duvet and quickly washes out the remnants of pink liquid over the sink in the bath before filling a finger of citrus inside. The creature's hand-feet tippy-tap on the tiles, reaching for the shiny container to take its first curious gulp.

Glugo's pug face puckers into a scrunched up grimace at once, face-hands releasing the sippy cup with an indignant noise.

Glurgh!

Day 93

It is a few weeks later, while Feyd and Mikhail are out brawling, that she figures it out.

"M'lord, I really am sorry," Mikhail laments, his flesh stripped of color as the black sun roars down on his bare torso. The na-Baron and he are prowling around each other in a tight circle, unarmed aside from their fists.

"You told me already." Feyd-Rautha's grating voice cuts through the sweltering air. The training ring's roof is retracted, giving way to blazing white skies and a heat that Giedi Prime's life forms have adapted to. "Five times. Another time, and I might just cut out your tongue."

"Ya know I had to take yer Lady to them bath chambers. Baron commanded it, and I can't just—" 

"Shut up, boy!" Feyd's boots crunch in the sandy gravel, shoulders rolling. He is stronger than Mikhail, rounded arms and pectorals contrasting a powerful, slender waist. The guard's physique is more wiry, taut muscles stretched across visible ribs. The glorious sun brings out an overabundance of gray scars.

"Boy, eh? Ain't any older than you, my Lord!" Feyd is surprised, tilting his head at the deceptive edges of the guard's features that make him look closer to 40.

"Fine, then shut up, brother!" Feyd bares his teeth and clenches his fists hard, veins rippling across his forearms. "What are the rules?" 

Mikhail's fist springs forward and punches Feyd-Rautha in the guts. He nearly doubles over, groaning in pain. Spit drips from his open mouth into the sand. 

"Rules?" The guard quips and aims his elbow for the na-Baron's nose. Feyd dodges with a semi-graceful dive to the side, taking the blow to his ear instead. He tastes blood on his tongue.

This man is bold. He has no manners. Feyd likes him. 

Mikhail is smaller, thinner, but he fights like a mongrel, like someone whose ferocious survival instincts have carried him from across the svart valta all the way to the royal palace in Barony. And Feyd struggles.

And by the black sun, he loses. Few things have ever excited him so much. After nearly an hour of grappling in the scorching heat, Feyd-Rautha finds himself on his back in the gravel, panting for dear life, ears ringing from the last punch square across his jaw. He barely hears Mikhail's voice when he praises that he had fought well, but he feels the brotherly smack on his sandy chest, right on top of a wicked bruise.

Every bone and muscle burns when he drags himself to his personal bath chambers. It was, undoubtedly, the best fight of Feyd-Rautha's life.

"Lilia! I've got it! I fucking got it, do you see this?!"

Pixelated particles give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"What, my Lady? See what?" The maid dashes into the bedroom from the antechamber with flying skirts.

"It's so simple, I'm so stupid." The relic has jumped up from the desk, fingers twisted like claws around the back of her chair while her chest heaves with laughter and a threat of tears. Lilia, of course, cannot see the baffling results of the simulation on the engineer's interface.

The Lady lurches over to the cryo pod, leaving the tilted chair swaying and falling down on the tiles with a bang. She mutters something along the lines of 'must build it', before her voice dissolves into foreign, ancient tongues and a shiver runs down Lilia's spine. Her voice so alien, her ways so enigmatic, she truly is a relic cracked open, pouring her forbidden knowledge into the world. 

But she is also a human and Lilia feels her Lady's voice and shaking body teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown as she snaps open several compartments of the sarcophagus.

"You figured it out, that's wonderful!" This barely gets the engineer's attention, so she curls her fingers around the woman's shoulder, gently forcing her away from the compartments. The relic slumps down with her back to the sarcophagus.

"I need to build it. I know there's laser diodes in there, I only need to—"

"Please, my Lady, you need to breathe deeply. Why don't you explain it to me first?" Lilia squats in front of her, holding her wrists in her warm hands. Her Lady is trembling, her breath too shallow and fast.

"It's so simple, I could build it in an hour."

"Please, do me the favor," Lilia insists and brackets the woman's trembling knees between her own. Finally, her Lady exhales a long sigh and lets her head sink against the humming metal.

"Alright," she agrees and starts with a jittery voice. "So, you're aware of what the Holtzman effect is?"

"Ah, yes, I think so?" The maid hadn't really known the term before her Lady had started rambling about it. "Shields and heighliners?"

The one discovery that has shaped the entire human universe and kept it shackled since then, and the average commoner barely even knows its name. The relic doesn't hold it against Lilia. In a world where “eat or be eaten” takes on a literal meaning, the last thing to worry about is science. So, she wills her voice into calmness. If she's going to try and explain it, she at least wants to do it well.

"The Holtzman effect is responsible for the four major technologies that have made the world into what it is today. The first one — shields. No fast-moving object can pass through a shield, so guns like these?" She points towards her nightstand. "They've been useless for millennia. That's why you've resorted to close combat weapons."

"I was wondering why you went for a gun and not a blade." Lilia tilts her head. Close combat weapons are all that she's ever personally encountered. She knows that lasguns exist and that each Great House has an arsenal of atomic warheads, but every soldier has a sword on their hip, not a gun.

"Melee weapons seem so…" The engineer struggles to find a corresponding word in Galach. "Medieval to me. Archaic. Warfare on Earth was nothing like this."

"What was it like?" Lilia whispers in awe, noticing her Lady's shaking abate second by second.

"You could obliterate entire cities within the blink of an eye. A million different ways to set a home on fire and kill a population from a thousand miles away. It was terrible." Which is why what she has discovered is just as terrible.

The relic continues. "The other three technologies derived from the Holtzman effect are suspensors, glowglobes and space travel. You know why I was in that metal coffin here?" She taps against the sarcophagus. "Because a journey within our own solar system would take several years. You however can travel to the other side of the universe within the blink of an eye, through a quantum tunnel."

Lilia has never left the planet, but to imagine trade and travel without space-folding almost strikes her as ridiculous. All of humanity, reduced to just one, single planet. The cradle of mankind. The thought humbles her.

"And all four of these are based on one single effect?" Lilia considers herself an intelligent woman, but she doubts she can understand what took her Lady weeks to figure out.

"The essence of the Holtzman effect lies in how subatomic particles interact with each other."

"Subatomic?"

"Any type of matter is made of smaller building blocks. This metal for example is made of all kinds of molecules, which are made of atoms, and every single atom is made of protons, electrons and neutrons. These are called subatomic particles. Protons and neutrons make up the nucleus of an atom, and you can imagine the electrons orbiting the nucleus almost like planets a sun."

The handmaid quite enjoys that mental image. It's like the smallest particles exist in a cosmos of their own. "So, the Holtzman effect has something to do with protons, electrons and neutrons?" Lilia imagines, if she could have gone to school like she wanted as a girl, it may have been something like this.

"Almost. It gets even smaller. Protons and neutrons are made of quarks, tiniest quantities that cannot be divided any further. I could go into more detail and talk about quantum physics," the relic pronounces a word that is just guttural enough for Lilia to imitate without all too many struggles. "But that won't be necessary for now."

Even though her Lady has stopped shaking, Lilia doesn't want to release her wrists yet. She is glued to the engineer's lips, soaking up what sounds like forbidden knowledge, like having a peek through God's microscope.

"What is a Holtzman shield made of? What do you think?" The engineer wraps her own fingers around Lilia's slender wrists and the maid sinks from squatting on her soles to sitting down on her bum, stretching out her legs on either side of her Lady's.

"I don't know, my Lady. Uh, something that repels?"

"Yes, that's right," she nods encouragingly. "There are several forces in the universe that attract and repel. The most well-known force of attraction is gravity. And electro-magnetism— Opposite poles attract, equal poles repel each other. But there are other forces that work on a subatomic level."

The engineer pauses without urging her and Lilia takes a moment to think.

"I'm guessing there's a subatomic force that keeps these, uh, nuclei together? The protons and neutrons? Because if not, everything would just be falling apart?"

It almost frightens her to imagine what her very own body must look like on its deepest level. A cluster of tiniest quantities, held together by forces as invisible as her Lady's interface.

"That's perfectly true!" The woman from Old Earth beams, fingers clenching around Lilia's wrists. "The force responsible for that is called the strong nuclear force. On an even smaller scale, the strong force holds together the quarks that make up the neutrons and protons, but you already said it just right."

Warmth fills out the handmaid's chest and she slowly begins to understand the feeling that had her Lady nearly panicking earlier. Her own heart drums against her ribs quick and hard.

"Okay, so now what about the Holtzman shield and how can you get past it?"

"For that, we also need to take the other subatomic force into consideration. It's called the weak force. Isn't that creative? Despite its name, the weak force is technically stronger than gravity, but it is only effective at very short distances and it can change one quark type into another. What do you think happens when such a change occurs?"

"Hmmm," the Harkonnen woman ponders. She doesn't want to disappoint her Lady who is putting so much effort into her explanation. "If quarks are the smallest quantities that make up anything, I suppose when something changes on the lowest level, this change translates to the highest level as well?"

"You're a natural, Lilia." Upon that, the maid blushes purple and finally releases the relic's wrist in a sudden burst of shyness. "Such a change can turn one element into another. It happens all the time, in every sun. And also in radioactive decay. This is important."

"How so?"

"Imagine if that radioactive decay was amplified. Imagine throwing a huge amount of energy at a substance that is already sporadically decaying. Imagine a whole chain reaction of it. This is what triggers a nuclear explosion, the kind that obliterates an entire city."

Lilia's eyes grow wide with understanding. "So, that's why, when you shoot a lasgun at a Holtzman shield, it triggers a nuclear explosion?"

"That's right. I believe shields are made up of nuclei and rely on both the strong and the weak force to repel incoming objects on a subatomic level."

"All of that was fascinating, but how does it help us get past the shield?" Suddenly it's us, not you. Lilia has clutched the fabric of the relic's trousers over the knees in both of her fists. What the engineer's poor Feyd-Rautha currently lacks in fascination, Lilia makes up for a hundredfold.

"Oh, that was just the prelude." The engineer's lips twist into an almost mischievous little grin. "It's just what I need to take into consideration, so I don't accidentally blow up the shield and the city instead of passing through it."

"Just the prelude? My Lady, I think I'll go insane if you don't get to the point!"

The relic bursts out laughing. "We're almost done, I promise! Imagine you're riding in a groundcar and next to you drives another one with the exact same speed. When you look at it, it seems like you're both standing still, because the relative speed between both cars is zero." Lilia nods and the engineer smiles knowingly. "Now imagine you're a bullet and you want to pass through a Holtzman shield which only allows slow-moving objects to pass."

"Then I'd need the shield particles to move in the same direction as I do, only a tad slower, so that my relative speed is like that of a slow blade."

"Congratulations, you've just figured out how to trick a Holtzman shield."

"That is absolutely genius, my Lady."

"No, it's actually so simple." The woman shakes her head. "The difficult part is how to put the shield particles into motion, but I've figured something out." She summons the pixelated particles that are only for herself to see once more, nuclei that make up a Holtzman shield, accelerated by a burst of calibrated laser light, and how they give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"Now I only need to build a proper gun," the engineer concludes.

Lilia has never cared much about the rest of the universe, and the universe has never cared much about her. Why would she care if her Lady, who has always been good to her, sets everything on fire?

When the door to Feyd-Rautha's personal bath chamber rushes open, he knows it can only be his darling, because the scanner only recognizes her handprint when he is inside.

The na-Baron is submerged to the jaw in oily-black liquid to soothe his bruises, a diluted version, heavily scented with the essence of exotic fruit and spices. He cannot breathe the unadulterated variant without gnawing memories of horror.

Her hectic footfalls cause him to spin around in the tub with worry, but before he can even utter a greeting, he finds his woman sagging down on her knees in front of him and his face captured in her palms.

"I've found a way!" She sobs.

"You've found a way?"

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, bringing her forehead against his. She's found a way. To kill the Baron and destroy the universe.

She is so elated, her joy could make a star rotate, it could set the world on fire. She kisses Feyd hard on the lips, melting against the wet expanse of his chest when he embraces her in his strong arms. His muscles break into tremors just like hers had an hour ago. 

All of her doubts have flown away like comets in the sky of a fiery dawn.

"Feyd-Rautha, would you be my husband?"

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour

— Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

A/N: Pretty much none of the physical concepts mentioned are made up. I've tried to use real physics to offer explanations for Frank Herbert's fantastical inventions that make the Dune universe so unique.

I'm not even close to the level of genius that I admire in my favorite sci-fi authors, but all of this was so insanely much fun to come up with. I have more ramblings about space travel, suspenders and glowglobes, but they weren't really necessary for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I'm very proud ❤️

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[pixelchills]

Can you tell us some fun facts about dolldrops?

Oh, gladly! I can include some in-universe facts and facts about the real-life dolls!

In-universe (fictional):

Dolldrops have been in their doll bodies for over 10 years now (7 years with Mrs Flora, 3+ years with Chill).

Sunny is left-handed and has a squeaker in his right hand. Moony is right-handed and has a squeaker in his left.

The dolldrops are ageless. They act like responsible adults in some areas of their lives and like kids/babies in others.

They pretend to get married at least once a month.

Sunny is a frequent giggler and loves anything that has him included (except check-ups).

Moony has a very ticklish spot on his back where the hook used to be in their old body.

The Dolldrops were eventually legally adopted by Chill and changed their names to Sunspot and Moonbean.

Moony gets rid of any bugs that come inside the house. He chews them up and then spits them to the bin.

Sunny runs everywhere. He only walks when he's feeling down (or holding hands with Moon).

Moony sometimes sucks his thumb.

Sunny is much clumsier than Moony for some reason.

They're both cuddlebugs.

They both love watching Bluey.

Sunny has tiny solar panels inside his rays that make him the more energetic of the two.

Moony sometimes chews cables.

Sunny does most of the chores in the house.

Moony has lazy cat energy, Sunny is more like a small, excited dog.

The real life dolls:

They're sturdy enough to stand on their own.

They're constantly gaining more clothes because I am hopeless when it comes to baby clothes lol.

The dolls have their own drawers for clothing and 'their toys'.

Moony is gonna be a lot quicker and easier to do than Sunny. Sunny's rays took most of the time because they had to be hand sewn.

They've grown a little bit from their original size. The original dolls were 50cm tall but currently Sunny stands at 64cm (with rays).

Sunny weights approx. 1 kg.

My husband and I often pretend that Sunny is our super annoying toddler son (and we blame him for all the stuff that goes missing/gets broken).

Everytime hubby and I leave the house we say: "Dolldrops, you're in charge! Take care of the house while we're gone."

I wish to give the dolls voiceboxes/speakers somewhere in the future.

Hubby wants to make them a small ballpit.

The irl dolls are also traumatised by a vacuum cleaner: my best friends was helping me with Sun's rays and then started to hoover around to clean the dust. She bumped the table where Sun's rays were waiting and one of them fell straight in front of the hoover, which sucked it in XD We joke about Sunny being afraid of her now lol.

Everyone in my family loves them; my mum says they're her "grand-dolls"; my nieces want to always see pictures of the dolls when I see them; my sister compares Dolldrop Sunny to our grandfather's "muse", which was a monkey plush (grandpa was also an artist).

Thanks for the question, it was fun to come up with these! 🥰