#paul atreides headcanon

[yandere-wishes]

Hey guys could you give me some feedback on the new fic I wrote?

I love you, it's running my life.

Let me know if you liked the writing style, the length, the aesthetic, etc. Or if there's something you didn't like. I want to see if I should make more fics in this style in the future.

[chalametluvrz]

dating timothee chalamet

timothee x afab!reader (mainly gn! expect on nsfw bits)

towards the start of the relationship, i think he'd be pretty anxious

he'd often find himself messing around with his hands a lot on dates

or stumbling over his words a little too much with a small giggle

if you've ever seen old interviews of him when he was younger. you know the ones where he gets all shy and giggly? that's exactly how i envision him to be with you

after some time, that's slowly replaced with his hyperactive ass

and let me tell you, boy never shuts the fuck up that's not a bad thing

because of his schedule, he rarely gets to see you in person

so whenever he does, he just has so much to tell you and so much to talk about that he just ends up coming out with a cluster-fuck of words

he always tries to facetime you at least a couple times a week

and let me tell you, the call will always start with him saying 'oh, i missed your pretty face' or 'seeing you has made my day'

boy is madly in love

and even though he hasn't said it yet, it's fairly obvious he's not hiding anything

he's the kind of person to want to keep your relationship on the down low

because if you're also famous, he wouldn't want to cause any issues or drama through tabloids

and if you aren't, he'd feel awful dragging you into the world of hollywood

eventually though, as most celeb relationships do, you got found out

someone caught you out on your 6 months anniversary

and that was it; twitter was going mental

timothee soon figured out that he probably had to say something

but honestly, he was kind of relieved he didn't have to hide you anymore

the morning you two woke up and saw yourselves going viral on twitter, there was a bit of a mad scramble between the two of you

before eventually, timothee chilled out

'but now i don't need to hide we're together, anymore. i can let the world know you're mine.' he'd say to your confusion at his relaxed state

cute but also now all of timmy's fans are stalking your instagram

cooking meals together!!!

i have a feeling timothee's love languages are more tailored towards physical touch and acts of service tell me im wrong

so cooking together is such a beautiful thing for him

as much as timothee loves taking you out, i think he'd much prefer to cook a fancy pasta dish together with wine over that any day

he also strikes me as a cosy movie date guy

but honestly, it more than likely turns into something else

don't fight me on his, he's a horny guy

like bro would get a hard-on just snuggling with you

when you first started dating, he'd get all shy about it

he'd apologise frantically and his face would be redder than ever

after dating for some time, he'd be less phased

unless you showed and expressed discomfort with it of course

after the shock of you dating slowly weaved out of the fans

timothee would definitely start posting you on his instagram

he just needed the world to know how obsessed he is with you

arguments are rare

extremely rare

they usually only happen when timothee is stressed

feelings get heated and you end up making some snippy comments at each other before one of you gets up and leaves the room

after you've both had time to cool down, you're both mature enough to talk it out and apologise for whatever each of you or one of you has done

communication is a big thing for timmy, so i think arguments are heavily avoided because he encourages you to come to him about anything

any concerns, rants and problems you have, he wants to know

he's a flirter, let me tell you that thankfully not with others

always dazzling you with compliments

you're in the crowd at a press tour? he's staring, smirking and winking at you the whole time

you're supporting him whilst he's on set? the man can't take his eyes off you and is coming to hold you the second the shot is taken

you're on facetime? every odd sentence is him saying some suggestive comment or simply how stunning you are

the man cannot get enough of you

going back to the horny thing...

he has a high sex drive

there's absolutely no doubt about it

he is a giver!!! the man aims to please!!!

could eat you out for days

i've already made a headcanon about him eating you out so i will be brief BUT!!!

he's messy!!! the wetter the better!!!

will overstimulate you with hid tongue any day

and then make sure you cum on his cock as well

you know what they say about tall, skinny boys? wink wink

i'd say he's a good 7 inches, 7 1/2 at a push

he knows how to please you, and he's eager to learn what makes you tick

even though he's mainly a dom, i can see him being a sub at times

only on rare assurances though

being his date to things like the met gala, oscars etc

after being open about your relationship, he couldn't wait to take you everywhere and anywhere with him

loves it when you wear his clothes

but i feel like all boys do?

especially when he's away, opening up a facetime call to see you sat there in one of his t-shirts. he actually thinks his heart might implode.

this boy will actually love you with his whole heart

the cutest, softest and proudest boyfriend around fr

[mutsubaki]

Now, let's talk about "you fought well, Atreides".

Yes, Feyd-Rautha enjoys the fight. He enjoys the volence. But he is acutely aware of the fact that he is on the Arena. He's a gladiator - Baron put him here for his own entertainment. On a gladiator's arena, one might be a beast, and another one might be a warrior, but both of them face death; the game is rigged to Feyd-Rautha win, but he still could've died.

This gives us a look into Feyd-Rautha's particular kind of madness: he's cruel, he enjoys the acts of violence, but he's not arrogant to assume he'll always land on top. He understands the hierarchy of power very well. It is shown in his behavior in the Emperor's court: he doesn't get himself involved into a battle he can't win, just observes.

And we know who taught him well.

At the Arena, he shares a short, perverted moment of tenderness with his victim - because it could've been him. The fight was rigged against them both: of course Baron expected him to win like this, without a shield, because Feyd-Rautha was put into the Arena in front of millions of his fanatics. When gift is not a gift?

Nothing about this is honorable. You didn't stand a chance, but you fought well, Atreides.

But the second time we hear this, everything changed.

Baron is dead. For a fleeting moment, Feyd-Rautha is Baron. There is no game within a game. Nobody forces him to step up as a champion. The goal is clear - protect the emperor. Neither fremen or sardaucar will interrupt them.

Finally, he can have his honorable and true fight.

He doesn't kill Paul, while he lays on the floor, because that move would be almost constdered a sucker punch.

And Paul wins the right way. It could've been either of them, but now it's Feyd's choice.

"You fought well, Arteides", and I am grateful for that.

I wonder if Paul catches this gratitude.

[tsaomengde]

The Villeneuve Dune(s) can be broadly interpreted as one of the two possible futures Paul sees in the original novel

Spoilers below for Dune Part Two. (And for the original novel, but that's been out since the 60s.)

He had seen two main branchings along the way ahead--in one he confronted an evil old Baron and said: "Hello, Grandfather." The thought of that path and what lay along it sickened him.

The other path held long patches of grey obscurity except for peaks of violence. He had seen a warrior religion there, a fire spreading across the universe with the Atreides green and black banner waving at the head of fanatic legions drunk on spice liquor. Gurney Halleck and a few others of his father's men--a pitiful few--were among them, all marked by the hawk symbol from the shrine of his father's skull.

"I can't go that way," he muttered. "That's what the old witches of your schools really want."

Obviously the Doylist explanation for why there are differences in the new films is that the original book is 60+ years old and has certain elements no longer in cultural vogue that were adapted out or altered to better fit modern sensibilities, and I'm all for that. But I did find it interesting that there is an explicit moment at the end of Part 2 where Paul confronts the Baron, utters the "Hello, Grandfather," line, and kills him.

This isn't necessarily because there is any one choice that Paul makes throughout the course of the two movies that leads here instead of to the jihad. In point of fact, most of the changes that drive him here are caused by choices made in the adaptations of the films.

The causal chain that leads to Paul undertaking the spice agony is his failure to predict the attack on Sietch Tabr, rather than his failure to predict Gurney's attack on Jessica; this is, of course, necessitated by the omission of the Harkonnen scheme in part 1 to impair Thufir's Mentat efficiency and potentially drive a wedge between Leto and Jessica by framing Jessica as the traitor. The final push that causes him to make the decision is, of course, the vision he experiences of an alternate future in which he didn't have to kill Jamis, with Jamis counseling him to climb as high as possible before the hunt so he can see as far as possible. (In other words, he ignores Stilgar's advice of not listening to the djinn.)

Similarly, his killing of the Baron is necessitated by the adaptational choice to keep Alia as a fetus so the audience doesn't have to deal with a two-year-old talking like an adult and killing the Baron, which they probably did because it would have been distracting.

However, I might argue that a Watsonian explanation for the film omitting the two-year time-jump lies specifically with Paul's decision to explicitly disavow the prophecy when Jessica undergoes the spice agony, and to explain to the Fremen that her survival is because of her Bene Gesserit training. He then attempts to secure his position with the Fremen through secular deeds, rather than letting Jessica carve a place for them with the BG prophesy.

This disagreement between the two of them causes her in turn to take a more active approach in cultivating Paul's status as Lisan al-Gaib, which accelerates the timeline of the Fremen being ready to submit to him. In turn, Paul focusing more strongly on guerrilla war against the Harkonnens accelerates the timeline of Feyd-Rautha being put in charge of Arrakis and cracking down hard in the north, leading to the aforementioned crisis point of Sietch Tabr being attacked without Paul's foreknowledge.

Notably, while we do see the shrine of Leto's skull in the film, we only see it in a vision; there is no moment in the movie where Paul explicitly finds his father's remains and enshrines them. Hence, going from a strict interpretation of the film's "text," this is not the future in which the legions are marked by the shrine, because the shrine doesn't exist. It is the other future. The compression of time means that Paul and Chani's relationship is much newer and more fragile and doesn't survive the strain of his apotheosis, and that's what sickens him most.

Of course, the "Hello, Grandfather" path also leads to the jihad, because Paul's tragedy is that his very existence was always going to lead to it, regardless of what he chose to do.

And Paul saw how futile were any efforts of his to change any smallest bit of this. He had thought to oppose the jihad within himself, but the jihad would be. His legions would rage out from Arrakis even without him. They needed only the legend he already had become. He had shown them the way, given them mastery even over the Guild which must have the spice to exist.

Obviously none of this passes explicit, close scrutiny, and is more of a fun "if you squint and look at it a certain way it kind of makes sense." I expect that the line was put in as a nod to the original book, no more or less, but making up head-canons like this is fun for me and if even one other person finds it edifying then I consider sharing it time well spent!

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘛𝘊 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘊𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 ( ♡ )

Timothée always remembers the little things - like how you take your coffee or your favorite flower, surprising you with them just to brighten your day.

He's an expert at giving warm, comforting hugs that seem to melt all your worries away.

Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he can't help but buy it, accumulating little tokens of love.

He writes small, heartfelt notes and hides them in places for you to find, each one making your heart flutter.

Timothée loves planning surprise dates, tailored perfectly to things that you enjoy, showing how much he pays attention to your likes and dislikes.

He's always the first one to apologize after an argument, not because he thinks you're right, but because your happiness means more to him than his pride.

Timothée listens intently whenever you speak, making you feel heard and understood, his green eyes reflecting genuine interest.

When you're feeling down, he's there with your favorite movie and snacks, ready for a cozy night in.

Timothée has a playlist for every mood of yours, and knows exactly when to play which song to lift your spirits.

He loves holding hands, interlocking fingers with yours, making you feel safe and connected.

Timothée creates a photo album of your moments together, captioning each picture with a sweet or funny memory.

He supports your dreams unconditionally, encouraging you to pursue what makes you happiest.

Timothée makes you feel safe and loved with his constant, unwavering loyalty and kindness.

He values deep, meaningful conversations under the stars, sharing dreams, fears, and everything in between.

He always knows how to make you laugh, even on your gloomiest days, with his quirky humor and lighthearted antics.

Whenever he talks about the future, it's always "we" and "us," making you feel included and loved.

He always makes sure to kiss you goodnight and good morning, starting and ending each day with a gesture of love.

Timothée sends you good morning and goodnight texts without fail, ensuring he's the first and last thing on your mind each day.

He loves cuddling, especially on lazy mornings, making it hard for you to get out of bed.

Timothée warms up the bed for you on cold nights, making sure you're comfortable and cozy.

He leaves voicemails saying he misses you or just to say "I love you," giving you something to treasure when you're apart.

Timothée learns and cooks your favorite dishes, striving to make them just right, filling the house with delicious smells.

He's always gently pushing you out of your comfort zone, helping you grow and experience new things.

You catch him staring at you with such adoration when he thinks you're not looking, his green eyes shining.

Timothée has a special nickname for you, one that he uses with such tenderness it always brings a smile to your face.

He's always interested in your day, listening intently and engaging in every detail you share.

Timothée holds you close during thunderstorms, making you feel protected and cherished.

On your anniversary, he makes a point to recreate your first date, adding a twist that makes it even more special.

He surprises you with a small, thoughtful gift on random days, just because he loves seeing your reaction.

Timothée supports your dreams unconditionally, even if it means making sacrifices on his part.

He takes time to learn about and engage in your hobbies, even if they're not his usual interests.

Timothée looks into your eyes with such adoration, making you feel like the only person in the world.

Your comfort is his priority; he'll lend you his jacket without a second thought if you're cold.

Timothée creates a playlist of songs that are significant to your relationship, each track telling a part of your story.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your heart flutter.

Timothée always makes sure you get home safely, showing his care and concern for your wellbeing.

He plans trips to places he knows you've always wanted to visit, making dreams come true.

Timothée has this habit of whispering "I love you" in your ear at the most unexpected moments.

He's not afraid to show his vulnerability with you, sharing his fears and dreams openly.

Whenever you achieve something, no matter how small, he celebrates it as if it were his own achievement.

Timothée creates a cozy space at his place for you, making sure you always feel welcome and at home.

He is patient with you, understanding that everyone has their flaws and loving you all the more for yours.

Timothée makes a habit of saying "I love you" in different languages, making each declaration of love unique and romantic.

He teaches you new things, whether it's a skill he has or interesting facts he knows, enriching your life.

Timothée keeps a journal of your relationship, documenting thoughts, feelings, and memorable moments.

He insists on taking selfies together, wanting to capture every moment with you.

Timothée makes you feel loved and cherished every single day, in countless little ways.

He's your biggest advocate, always encouraging you to believe in yourself as much as he believes in you.

And finally, no matter how busy he is, Timothée always makes time for you, showing that you are his priority.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

[ghostgirl101]

random brainbomb of a headcanon blurb thingy, but I'll write proper realtionship hcs soon and order this properly lmao- enjoy this while you wait 🙃

Sure, Feyd-Rautha's a freaking sadistic mad mess Harkonnen, but after watching how he responded to Margot Fenring, you cannot tell me that he's incapable of some form of admiration and awe and... love? when he meets the right person who can somehow, somehow, manage him.

Let's say he wasn't completely mentally manipulated or seduced if you are a Bene Gesserit, because he's not drawn to you by any kind of force or external influence. It's the simple fact that he can't understand how and why you're different amongst the thousands of people who cower and flinch in his presence. Why do you look at him like he's not an abomination? What do you know?

I feel like he'd treat you like one of his prized possessions after suddenly and randomly deciding and declaring that you're his now, lucky lucky you, and the best pet he's ever received... maybe for his birthday, if that's when you met? Hands-on, grabby Harkonnen with no boundaries, no limits. All at your disposal.

He just has to learn every little thing about you - how you react to everything he says and does, little things obvious things. If your eyes light up in excitement or in fear when he slashes countless throats for you because their heads kept turning in your direction when you walked into the room. Or how you'd like to be given the best of everything, dressed in beautifully sleek black robes as a rare Harkonnen beauty.

And being the only person he'll stop mid-cut through when you ask him not to hurt someone so badly, not to lose all sense of reason just because he's bored. It's that moment of hesitation that makes the Baron stop in shock and bewildered wonder, because his nephew will answer to no one. Yet, here you stand.

And you stand with him by choice? You don't run away as soon as you're given the chance, don't betray him or curse his name if there's a chance he'll be removed? Paul is shook 😐: that's literally his face lol

So when he goes to stand against him and challenge him on behalf of opposing Emperor Shaddam, don't think you're not in the young Atreide's line of sight now, because even though he plans on securing his position by taking the hand of Irulan, he'll be the Emperor, and he can bend the rules however they please him if there's something he wants to understand and take rightfully, away from the filth and bloodstained hands of your Feyd Rautha.

^^ the guy's late reaction is too funny to me

[deepsuns]

Sacrificial Lamb | 𝑶𝑵𝑬. 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑲𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑨.

❴ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ! ❵ ⸻ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❮ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❯ : FEYD-RAUTHA HARKONNEN // ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER ❮ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❯ : BLOOD, GORE, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, RAPE, NON-CON, CONSENSUAL NON-CON, AGONIZINGLY SLOW BURN, IMPLIED INCEST, CANNIBALISM, DRUGS, ETC. ❮ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 & 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐓 ❯ :

His need grew jealous, gnashing teeth, desiring to dig into soft skin, smooth thighs. It was a need that grew over the span of years, developing into a hungry monster that only she could soothe.

Feyd-Rautha did not want to be soothed.

&&.

House Kastara is slaughtered before its rebellion can flourish, leaving Ara floundering in its wake halfway across the universe. Time does not wait for grief, and reality sets in for Ara with a vengeance; set to serve Thora Rabban at the behest of her Bene Gesserit overseer, Ara attracts the attention of Feyd-Rautha, and none are prepared for how fiercely his possessiveness grows... or how patiently he is content to wait. ❮ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 ❯

THE SECRET TO FLAYING a man alive was not in the physical act itself. Ara could count on the fingers rolling towards her silk-slippered feet as to how many times her father had proved that to her over the years. To rid a man of his skin, her father would tell her, was a simple, easy act that did little else but to peel one free of their humanity to expose the biology beneath. It did not matter how slowly blood-coated fingers slipped beneath bone and gristle to snap, break, and shatter; the outcome was the same. No, her father had emphasized a singular point in his gruesome lessons, one that he found more important than all the rest: to truly flay a man was to cut him from the inside, and expose the truth of him to daylight.

“A liar’s greatest fear, and a coward’s nightmare,” the Lord of House Kastara grunted over the crushing, dull crack of a man’s sternum caving beneath his palms. His victim—a spy that had scuttled about the sparse servants they had remaining—was already dead. He had been dead for some time, his green eyes glazed over, the light having winked out of the jeweled depths as if snatched by greedy hands. “Come, Ara. Bring the bucket so I do not make a mess of this.”

You are already making a mess, is what Ara had wanted to say in reply. You make a mess by torturing this man and breaking down his body as if he is nothing less than chattel.

“Yes, father,” Ara answered, instead, and her chubby, ten-year old fingers had clambered at the metal handle and brought the bucket to his side.

Orion Kastara, in the eyes of a fractured House mending its painful gaps with blood and grave wax, was not a cruel man. Neither was he a kind man, for his habits of violence were many, and he frequented the blade as much as he did the pen—a creature of nurture as much as he was nature. Ara had to wonder just how much of it was his nature, and how much could be attributed to how he had been born and raised and manipulated into a mold.

Cooling skin split open at the draw of a razor sharp knife. Long, rope-like lengths of intestines wiggled free, still warm and steaming the cold air, and with not so much as a twitch of the nose, Orion severed the ends from stomach to colon, tied them off, and scooped them into the bucket.

Ara had decided then: Nature.

On Kastaran—the sanctuary and home planet for House Kastaran, or Tupile, scattered across the universe, under the nose of Imperium rule—it was the concept of nature that seemed to overshadow any nurturing that was placed upon it. The plant life grew where, when, and as it pleased, with disregard to the seasons or weather; the storms were a mixture of humid monsoons and thick, cloying humidity without a droplet of rain in sight. It was a lush planet that played victim to the whims of the sixteen moons surrounding it in concentric orbit, forcibly stabilized with varying levels of success. Less so, after House Kastaran was broken down and the remnants bid to remain on their home planet.

In much the same manner, any efforts to breed out and quell certain biological aspects of the local animal life—even with intervening aid from outside groups—grew to be pointless. A buck who might have had two sets of antlers would grow one set, and then rapidly after shedding them, grow four sets; or a doe with four eyes may appear with eight upon the next sighting. Ara had watched one buck, closed up in a private enclosure, gradually grow to have twenty pairs of antlers before his skull caved in from the pressure.

She had named him Sassy, because he had liked to turn his nose up when she offered him cubes of dried sweet herbs.

Ara’s mind, even as young as she was, could not help but attribute Sassy’s death to her mother: Lady Ilysia of House Kastaran.

Looking at her mother evoked the same clench in her gut, the swooping pity that lodged in her heart and would never leave. The emotions were something she couldn’t understand at the time, an instinctive part of her that told her more than words could ever say, than anyone could ever possibly explain to her in cohesive terms.

Ilysia—because Ara had never been able to think of her, truly, as ‘Mother’—was a petite woman, perpetually clad in soft cottons or silks, never organza or stiff linen. Her hair might have been long and soft, once, but it was wiry and stripped of all shine, coiled up tight into a braid against her scalp and left to hang over one shoulder. Her skin was pale, paler than ice, the blue-green hue of her veins peering through the thin layers of skin and offering a glimpse of what lay beneath such a wretched rendition of a human form. Her face was sharp, her jaw rounded slightly at the edges, with a cleft chin that grew more pronounced. Her stomach was soft and pudgy and folded over the layers of silk she wore, her breasts heavy and sagging and barely kept proper in a brassiere.

It was her eyes, however, that always incited Ara’s deep seated pity and unease.

The Lady of House Kastara held no life in her obsidian gaze. There was no joy, love, excitement, or interest; even anger would have been a welcome sight, so long as she felt something. Her smiles would hold nothing but falseness, intended to smooth over her lack of permanence and nothing more. She ate in a mechanical way, as if she had forgotten how to chew, drink, and swallow, and did not enjoy the flavors or textures; she had three meals and sought nothing else outside of it.

When Ilysia spoke, her voice was raspy and deep. Damaged. She would only ever speak to Ara, these days, and never to the servants, or to her husband. Once upon a time, she had never spoken at all.

“I was Tleilaxu, once,” Ilysia had told Ara, on a day where she had been unusually chatty. She would speak in offhand sentences that sounded dream-like, her mind far, far from where it should have been. “I had many children before your father obtained me. But you were the only one I was permitted to keep. To hold.”

Ilysia told her many other things, all of them dark and ripping at Ara’s heartstrings mercilessly.

“My body was a specimen, but my mind was present. I knew their voices, the whir of machines as I was impregnated with child after child. Sometimes, not children at all.”

“The texture of ground oats and water reminds me of the slurry they would feed me through the pipes.” There had been a pause, a twirl of a spoon through her food. “I often wonder if that was what it was.”

She was mindlessly inconsiderate with how she spoke. She did not think at all, perhaps, outside of a seamless train of thought that never ended.

“I am happy you did not inherit my eyes,” was one of Ilysia’s more colorful statements, paired with a longing stare towards a chip in the wall. “Tleilaxu eyes are small and beady. Yours are large and beautiful, like a doe’s.”

If Ara’s favoritism towards the deer became more intense after that, her father had made no comment about it.

At her mother’s side during these conversations, ever the stalwart protector, was her uncle: Cetus Kastara I. The ‘spare’ of House Kastara, removed of all titles save for Lieutenant. Of all of the men that claimed nobility and honor, Ara considered Cetus as being a prime example of it. While her father bent and broke rules to suit his needs, Cetus would follow them to the letter and rarely ever broke them, if at all.

Dressed in sleek black armor, gray mesh, and a dark maroon cape pinned to both shoulders, he was intimidating in a more severe way than her father, Orion, his brother. He would blend in with the dark stone that made up the entirety of House Kastara’s manor home, what little that remained of it that had not been buffeted by time and weather. Humidity was awful for the ore used to build it.

Where her father would teach her how to disembowel a man without spilling a droplet of blood, Cetus would guide her on the best ways to suture a hole in a gown or a wound. He would cheekily tease,”Your pattern might be good, should you wish for your patient to bleed out on the battlefield. Again.”

Today was one such day. When she had washed blood from her hands, dumped the bucket of organs out for the animals to feast on—the deer were particularly carnivorous—and left her father to dispose of yet another spy, she went to Ilysia’s chambers. Her rooms were large and took up most of the guest wing, and Ara had never speculated on why her mother did not share chambers with her father. It was not as if Cetus shared barracks with the other soldiers of House Kastara.

Outside, through thick paneled windows, Ara could just rise onto her toes and peek out at the weather brewing. Dark clouds were rolling in, bringing rain and thunder and lightning, the third or fourth storm of the season. She could not keep count of the true number of them when they would pop up during the night and vanish before dawn. Her fingers gripping onto the stone briefly, she lowered herself back down onto her heels and continued down the hall.

Her mother’s chamber doors were marked with a sigil, overlaid with a small banner pinned between the handles that displayed the crest of House Kastara: a white doe, a star centered between long, slender ears, on a black field with fourteen gold moons hanging around its thin neck in mimicry of a noose. It was old work, the fabric threadbare and eaten away by moths that hid in the cracks and crevices of the manor, meshing with the rest of the banners hung throughout the halls.

Pushing open the doors, Ara’s eyes roved over a plush settee, an untouched plate of starchy vegetables, and eventually landed on Ilysia. The woman was standing at the window, staring out at the brewing weather as if it held the secrets to the universe. She wore a color that Ara had never seen before: a rich, deep mahogany lined with silver velvet and studded with jewels of the same color. At her side, forever faithful, was Cetus, shaking his head, wisps of fox-gray hair settling at his brow as he fixed Ilysia’s hair perhaps for the dozenth time that day.

“Your mother’s hair has a mind of its own,” Cetus grumbled, noticing Ara even as she shut the door quietly. His fingers twisted the lengths into a braid, twining a loop of leather at the end to secure it. “Four times she has pulled it free. I daresay it is a habit rather than deliberate.”

Ara glimpsed the side of her mother’s face. It was frighteningly blank.

“Perhaps it makes her feel better,” Ara suggested lightly. Her arms wrapped snugly around Ilysia’s soft waist, familiarity washing over her as her mother lifted her arm and settled it around her shoulders. Habit, as Cetus had said, rather than deliberate action. She was used to pulling affection from wherever she could draw from it most. “I twirl my hair when I get bored.”

Cetus let out a laugh that sounded more like an agonized chuff. “Perhaps, my lady. Perhaps.”

With a small hum, Ara withdrew from Ilysia. Her arm fell to her side, limp, and made no other indication that she had wished for Ara to remain.

Thunder rumbled overhead, booming into the manor itself. Ara was used to the sound, by now; the storms could be quick and violent, or slow and measured. She was satisfied that it would be the former rather than the latter. It meant the deer could be corralled back into place sooner and they would not have scattered so badly.

“Your father is in the dungeons, I wager?” The Lieutenant shifted, his weight falling to one knee as he knelt before Ara to converse with her. It was not a demeaning action; rather, Ara was too short for the significantly taller man to speak to her without seeming as if he was speaking down to her. “Another spy, on a planet that receives no ships.”

Ara’s brows furrowed. She knew what Cetus was insinuating: that her father found spies in the innocent, torturing them for his own interest and self-serving purposes. It was not a thought that she had not pondered herself. “… Yes.”

Armor clanking as he rose to his feet, her uncle looked as if he had aged ten years with that simple confirmation. “I see. I would speak with him about dragging you to those torture chambers—“

Softly, nearly drowned out by the thunder and rain, they barely heard it. Cetus stilled, his head turning slightly to the side as he angled his ear towards the slightly open window that Ilysia had left cracked for fresh air.

Again, this time louder: screaming.

Alarm flashed through Cetus’ eyes and rippled through his body so visibly that Ara saw his armor shake. With quick movements, he slammed the window shut and flicked the lock closed, but it could not hide what she could see outside, partially obscured by thunderclouds.

Lowering from the darkness, ships—dozens, more than her mind could comprehend—and on the ground, cutting through body after body with blades held flat to their forearms, were soldiers. Soldiers who wore white and gray, with reddish symbols painted onto their armor, flocking towards the manor and cutting swathes through Cetus’ unit—a pale river through a dark canyon.

Lighting crackled through the sky, illuminating the blood shed in their wake as the rain washed it down the hillside and mingled with the mud.

“Sardaukar,” Cetus breathed.

At the window, watching as a rapidly pulsating round ejected from one of the ships and flew towards the manor, Ara watched as Ilysia’s blank expression slowly warped into one of true emotion.

Fear.

❴ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ! ❵ ⸻ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚

[kteezy997]

Headcannons on how Timmy's characters cuddle plsssss

Willy Wonka:

always makes sure you have something sweet before bed, first of all.

very vocal, lets out an audible sigh once he has relaxed against you.

he's happy to be big spoon or little spoon, whichever you prefer.

he just wants you to be warm and comfortable.

he doesn't squeeze you too much, as he is respectful of your space and comfortability, but he loves to hold you and be close to you.

Lee:

surprisingly, likes being the little spoon.

he may sigh in a melancholy tone at first, as he longs to connect with you.

his breathing will steady as you snuggle him, and he may even hum contently.

he hugs you tightly, in the sense that he never wants to lose you.

he tells you how much he loves your scent, and he nuzzles his face into your neck.

he loves the feeling of your hair on his cheek, and takes a second to take in the smell of your hair.

Paul Atreides

has the tendency to be cold and distant, but he has slowly shown you his more tender self.

keeps a strong, possessive hold on you all night long.

he tells you that you belong to him.

you feel that his arms are the safest place in the known universe.

Yule

is totally stoked that you want to sleep over in the first place.

is very into having your consent for almost every touch he places on you.

he plays with your hair, and rubs your scalp with his fingers.

he tells you how pretty he thinks you are.

kinda prefers to be the little spoon, so he can feel your warmth around him.

Zeffirelli B.

doesn't know what he's doing, but he is willing to learn.

you have to initiate and teach him everything.

he has a hard time laying still.

he isn’t used to affection and he’s inexperienced.

but he does press his crotch into your bum.

[moonlit-knightz]

i will love you as long as i breathe

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hi Muffin 😀 Your last post about Tom Riddle in Arrakis is so interesting! I love the way you think. Going on a similar note what if Tom was reborn as Paul's sister? Either as Alia or a random oc let's say. I'm not too familiar with the Dune books but I remember seeing post about how if Paul was born a girl he'd be betrothed to Feyd (I think his name was? Correct me if I'm wrong lol) so would that make Tom in a arranged marriage with him?? (Going the oc route) That would be hilarious 😭🙏 And! There's the possibility of him having magic or no magic which I think can be really interesting!

Anyways I just wanted to know your thoughts if you have any because your post definitely made me curious. If I ever in the future read the dune books maybe I shall write the fic hehehe

That Thing About the Paul/Feyd Ruatha Marriage

I mean.

That bit about Paul as a girl being married off to Feyd Ruatha is explicitly in the books and gets a sort of mention if you squint and pay very close attention in Dune Part 1. It's what the Bene Gesserit had had planned as they wanted one last mix of the gene pool of Harkonen and Atreides and then the next generation would be the Kwisatz Haderach. Jessica fucked that up by giving Leto the heir he wanted and thus unwittingly producing the Kwisatz Hadearach a generation before the Bene Gesserit expected him and causing them to lose control over him.

When Jessica does get pregnant with Alia initially it's in an attempt to appease her Bene Gesserit minders by producing the girl they had wanted from her but at that point, things have gone too sour between the Atreides and the Harkonens and the emperor was already conspiring to eliminate the Atreides family. It was too little too late, essentially, which was basically what the head Bene Gesserit Reverand Mother tells Jessica.

By the time Alia comes around, not the least because Paul and Jessica have now figured out all of the above where Jessica had been kept in the dark as a typical Bene Gesserit member/pawn, that marriage was never never never going to happen. (And also because Feyd Ruatha soon after dies around when Alia's only four so what are you going to do.)

Basically, it's not a fan theory, it is very clearly, explicitly, brought up several times in the book.

Would Paul's Sister Be Married Off to a Harkonen?

If Jessica had bit the bullet earlier to finally give the Bene Gesserit what they wanted?

Well.

Depends.

But probably not.

Which was part of the reason the Bene Gesserit gave their whole "Fuck you" response to Jessica when she noted that she's finally having a girl like they asked.

The thing is that House Atreides, because of bitter centuries of conflict entirely off screen that precede the main novels as well as just general House Harkonnen policies, hates House Harkonnen. And the feeling goes both ways.

Now, if Paul had been a girl, the reason that this alliance could have worked is a few things. We would have one of two scenarios.

The first, House Atreides would not have a male heir, Leto would remain staunchly unmarried and deeply devoted to Jessica, and would thus have to merge his house with another. He'd really really really really really hate to do it with the Harkonens but it'd make the Atreides very rich (because of Arrakis), Feyd Ruatha's of a similar age, and it'd give the Atreides political capital to survive the emperor getting increasingly nervous about their popularity.

The second, Leto is very sad and has to get married and produce a male heir. He also really really really really really canonically did not want to do this, never did, despite everyone wanting him to do this. In this case, he can use his bastard daughter as a bargaining chip in negotiations and while he would loathe to marry her off to any Harkonnen that sweet sweet spice. They'd have to offer him a very good deal but there is a world where he takes it.

Though there's also a world I can see where Jessica does make a girl as asked and Leto goes "I hate the Harkonens and love Jessica more than I love the patriarchy" and chooses to make fem!Paul his female heir anyway because fuck the idea of having to get married and fuck having to merge his house with another. Fem!Paul is fine! Fuck you all.

All this to say though, that if House Atreides has this male heir through Jessica, the whole game changes and it becomes increasingly less likely that either Leto or Vladimir will ever accept the match no matter what underhanded negotiating the Bene Gesserit try to pull. At that point it's a "Now, Paul's sister, as a loyal Bene Gesserit acolyte what you're going to do is get Feyd Ruatha very very drunk and have an illegitimate child with him" (which to be fair is also the Bene Gesserit way).

But again, that's the reason they're so pissed at Jessica at the start of the novels and have been for over a decade. She really fucked up their plans here because her lover whined to her about having a son.

Which is ultimately to say I don't think Paul's sister would be married off to them.

Would Reincarnated Tom Have Magic?

Almost certainly yes.

Or at least, it's the right mix of genes to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. That's the whole thing, after thousands of years of careful eugenics, the Bene Gesserit were certain they were one generation off from the payoff.

And not to get so much into what magic is or isn't--if there is an equivalent in Dune it's in these bloodlines that the Bene Gesserit have very carefully cultivated. The difference is there's no wand/no system of magic that people have to rely upon/just precognitive and other abilities.

There isn't really an option in which this does not occur because the gene pool's so loaded. Now, because fem!Tom is a sister, she's out of the running for becoming what Paul ends up being, that's just the genetic breaks, but she'd be one hell of a talented Bene Gesserit with the right training.

And of course, going to Arrakis sets this stuff in hyperdrive as that spice accelerates all these abilities/makes them even possible in the Dune universe.

BUT WHAT ABOUT TOM?!

All of this has been a hypothetical younger sister who is older than Alia. If it's Tom himself reborn into this? That's a fic question as it deals with a lot of 'what's Tom's mindspace at the time', 'what does he want to do', 'what is he going to sit by and let happen', and so on.

It's not really a great tumblr post.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Dune Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 ♡ ｡ ゜  

☾⋆ Paul Muad'Dib Atreides | پل معادب آتریدس

He dreamed of you again tonight. Something cathartic laying across the sands. Your touch haunts his skin, tracing scars and stars across his cheeks. He wonders what you see him as, something sacred or something exotic. Neither matters so long as you love him...

Paul's a volatile star, always one breath away from exploding. You're scared to touch the golden boy, lest your fingers return burned and your skull rattles with the echo of the cosmos. Still, it's hard to miss the devotion when his lips grace your knuckles. Hard to miss the cacophony of his heart as it reverberates across the desert. 

ᯓ★ Leto Atreides | لتو آتریدس

Leto kisses butterflies into your shoulder, the taste of your skin feels like nectar on his tongue. His mind is always racing vying for your affection, your attention, your adherence. He traces your name across his star maps, each letter scribbled in a melancholy blue. You grace his chambers again tonight, it feels so wrong to only see your silhouette, to not feel your love bleeding like his does. He kisses you again, something akin to devotion. He needs to feel you under him again, needs to feel the softness of your flesh under his fingers. Something in him shatters, something inside him rearranges. You make him feel so erratic. Why must he love you this way?

𓆩⚝𓆪 Duncan Idaho | دانکن آیداهو

his lips taste of chaos, he pours his passion into you. 

He feels you rattle inside his bones. Feels you coursing through his veins like unaltered spice. He's on another mission, laying in the sand and daubing your essence into constellations. He dreams of your fingers running over his muscles pushing adoration into him with a rusted kitchen knife. Your eyes never gaze at him for long. And yet each stare holds the weight of a nebula. He falls asleep to the phantom melody of your sweet voice. Dreaming of returning to you once more. 

༺🕸༻ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | فید روتا هارکونن

There's a blade in his hand, blood marring pale fingers again. In every droplet, he sees your face. Phantom pains rampage when he hears your name. He dreams of you holding a knife to this chest, breaking the skin, and riving through muscle. Each night your ghost plagues him. Hurting him in all the ways he craves. He dubs you ecstasy, overdosing on everything he wants to do to you. Everything he wants you to do to him. He etches your name upon his bones, dedicating each open wound to you. He's going mad over the notion of you between his sheets, limbs entwined in a bloody mess. His tongue craves the taste of your flesh, starved like the trees on Arakkis. He must have you, he will have you. 

-`𖤓´- Stillgar | ستیلگار

Stillgar's love is a desert tune, the winds rustling through the grains before the breaching of a sandworm. He falls harder and harder with each soulful gaze. He's spent his whole life chasing prophecies that he's forgotten how to wholly love something not written in blood and legend. He prays upon every star, that the maker has written your names together. That maybe some prophecy exists where you are to become his. He watches you sitting across the dunes, watching as the sunset pales compared to you. He whispers prayers beneath his breath, hoping you'll be with him soon. 

݁˖☘︎ Gurney Halleck | گارنی هالک

He stiffens under your touch, under the sonority of your voice. His battered heart rattles in your presence, the air in his lungs freezes and he momentarily forgets that he is a soldier, a protector, a tool carved to fight for the Atreides. He's not meant to love, to crush, he's meant to kill, to teach, to follow. A weapon in every sense of the word. And yet he'd throw the world at your feet for a sliver of your attention. Gurney can't help the flames that grow within him. The raging pyro each night when he catches a rogue glimpse of you through the crack of your door. He wishes to kiss you, to hold you. To make you his in every way he knows he can't. 

[skybluesocks]

Paul Atreides is kinda transgender. I think Dune would be even better if she was transfem or if they were nonbinary.

[iconsumethesoulsofthedamned]

Say ‘Paul was supposed to be a girl and he is a boy who can do everything a girl can and is able to go into women only spaces even though he’s a boy’ and no one bats an eye.

Say ‘Paul is a trans man’ and society-

[a-door-to-somewhere]

I've only seen half of dune but if I don't get an extremely unserious tgirl!Paul AU right now I will be forced to start skimming the wikis so I can shittly write my own

[missjadesfics]

Timothee Chalamet

Stars in your eyes - Timothee Chalamet x Reader Reader and Timothee go on a blind date together set up by their friends, not knowing Timothee and reader had dated in the past | coming soon

Characters

Paul Atreides

We Can Share - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Paul Atreides The reader is Feyd and Paul's childhood friend; rather than choose one, why not have both?

Paul Atreides x Reader x Duncan Idaho - We Made An Agreement Y/n and Paul are married, both agreeing they can sleep with whomever they like. The reader finds comfort with Duncan. But Paul questions if the agreement works for him anymore.

My Gem - Paul Atreides x Reader Paul asks for the Emperor's eldest daughter's hand in marriage.

Willy Wonka

King Henry V

Theodore ‘Laurie’

Nic Sheff

Regulus Black

Dune men reacting to their so saying "I love you " | coming soon

Dune men looking after reader on their period | coming soon

Come away with me - Wonka x Reader | coming soon

[ghostgirl101]

So I watched Dune Part II, great stuff, amazingly cinematic; hear me out...

Fanfic requests for Paul and the psycho Harkonnen? 😀

like I really want to write some stuff about Paul and his destiny being the reader and how his dark rise to power makes him more of a brooding/possessive/obsessive character and lover instead of a more lost and gentle one like the first movie-

Edit... and here we are 🙃 ↴