#real normal family the atreides

[fuckyeahisawthat]

something something Paul the son who was supposed to be a daughter, supposed to be the mother of the apotheosis and not the apotheosis himself, a prophecy fulfilled but just slightly to the left

something something Alia the daughter who should have been, except she came out Wrong, her mind playing host to generations of women and also her weird dead grandfather for some reason

something something siblings who get described as two halves of the same person, who could communicate when one of them was still inside the womb, both of them arrived before their time and not what anyone expected

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

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

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

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good- 

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 

“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 

You waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 

“No.” 

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 

Aimed at his throat. 

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 

“I wanted to.” You conceded. 

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 

“Atreides.” 

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 

He had been trying to warn you.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

[winterinhimring]

The real tragedy of Dune (which the movies did an excellent job of portraying) is that almost none of the characters we see have any real choice in what they do. The only choices they have are in how they do them.

Duke Leto must take House Atreides to Arrakis, or be declared a traitor to the Imperium and hunted down. He knows it's a trap and that the Emperor is, in the very best case scenario, setting him and his family up for a serious reversal of their fortunes (far more likely, he's outright scheming to get them killed). But he doesn't have a choice. He must go to Arrakis. He does go to Arrakis. He dies.

Paul and Jessica must flee into the desert or the Harkonnen soldiers will kill them both brutally. They must go to the Fremen for refuge or the desert will kill them. They go. They find that the Fremen have already begun to mythologise Paul. He's the Mahdi, the Lisan al-Gaib. There is no option for Paul to be a normal person here. He is either the messiah or he is a false prophet, and false prophets in a nation of true believers don't live for long.

So Paul fits himself into the mold of the myth. He becomes Muad'dib and leads the Fremen in war because they believe too much in him to let him be anything less. Is it manipulation? Yes. But because the Bene Gesserit have been manipulating the Fremen for centuries, Paul has no choice but to continue it if he wants to live.

He sees the holy war at the end of every timeline by glimpses and he fights to avoid it. To avoid it, he becomes the Kwizatz Haderach and gains the ability to fully see timelines, and thereby he makes himself that much more of the Fremen messiah and brings himself one step closer to the holy war. Every choice he makes is a choice for survival and an attempt to avoid that war, the war he cannot escape because every step he makes along the path to survival is one more step towards the war. He has no more choice in what he becomes than his father had in whether or not he went to Arrakis.

The only people who ever had a choice were the Emperor and Gaius Helen Mohiam. They made their choice, to exterminate House Atreides, and thereby they took everyone's choices away, including their own. Once they sent House Atreides to Arrakis, the entire plot was inevitable.

[triluvial]

There are whispers, stirrings.

There are rumours that Arrakis' control - for so long solidified in the pearlescent hands of the Harkonnen family - was wavering. That the emperor was already seeking out a replacement family.

Their first hint of this was Duke Leto reaching out and flat out telling them that the emperor had offered his family control over Arrakis and the entire imperial spice trade. While the Baron pretended very, very hard that this wasn't information that was blindsiding the entire family, Leto went onto explain that he didn't want to move off of safe, plentiful Caladan while the mother of his children was so, profoundly pregnant. Duke Leto doesn't want to start any shit with the Harkonnens either, so he wants them to hear the truth from him even though "I'm sure you're up to your ears in reports from your network of spies."

There was no network of spies. Who tf would risk their lives for a house that would be twice as likely to kill them themselves? Baron Vladimir successfully pretends otherwise for the rest of the video call.

However, that gives the Baron an idea of how to proceed. They can't trust the Atreides on their words, but they cannot ignore such a serious warning.

However, it would all be too suspicious - if the risk of losing the control of spice was real - for random Geidi Prime natives to show up at the Emperors home. He had a truthsayer, and they couldn't exactly blend into a crowd. But there was a better plan, they would join with a different house, one friendly with the Emperor and be invited alongside them to the Emperor's side. It would be an insult for the Bene Gesserit assistant to the crown to start questioning the staff of a beloved guest.

So Feyd joined a small battalion. Not even as the leader, though he could hear the other men shifting in anxiety whenever he sighed in a specific way over the general's decisions. And they were sent to bring that month's trading products from Pallosan III to Geidi Prime.

Feyd and his team arrive late on purpose. The ruling family had no choice but to offer to let them stay the night. They humbly accept, feigning the quiet servitude that Harkonnen servants are famous for.

Under the cover of darkness, they fake a break in. They fake an assassination attempt. Then the eight, perfectly normal Harkonnen servants fight off the attackers before the citadel's alarms are even raised.

Reader's family is overjoyed. Baron Harkonnen is even more overjoyed to receive and approve their request for the eight 'heroes' to stay on Pallosan Three until the reason and origin of the assassination attempt is found and eliminated. Vladimir is so glad that his people could be of use to such dear, treasured allies, and if his heir had been there Feyd could have probably fought off the assassins single handedly, but it's good that the relatively unskilled fighters managed on their own.

This bolsters the Harkonnen reputation, not only is their noble family incredibly dangerous but even normal servants sent to transport food are more skilled than most family's trained guards.

Feyd knew this would be a long mission. He'd never done anything like this, but a Harkonnen had to be present to make hard decisions and he was the least-recognisable of the three ruling members of the family.

Three weeks later there's a real break in. It probably wasn't an assassination attempt but as he is the only one alive when the guards and royal family come running in after the alarms go off, Feyd can tell whatever story he wants.

Later that day, the youngest princess comes and brings Feyd a drawing of him in thanks. He's monstrously tall, towering over a terrible depiction of the citadel. The sun is black, apparently the only thing the child knew about Geidi Prime.

Feyd looks over the shoulder of the child at where her older sister was standing. Then he feigns being moved by the drawing. He's rewarded by two smiles, one gap-toothed and the other as beautiful as the dawn. He feels his stomach flip awkwardly. He folds up the drawing and puts it inside his armour.

"You made her day, you know." Princess Irulan's closest friend says, sitting next to Feyd as he sharpens his sword later that afternoon. "She's right now bugging our captain of the guards so that he'll teach her swords so she can be a Harkonnen when she grows up."

"Uh..." Feyd manages.

"Of course, that's not how it works, but she's young." She allows, and she's sitting close enough that Feyd can tell her dress isn't just solid blue but actually embroidered in the same colour with shiny silk thread. "You're an amazing warrior, the Baron said only his na-Baron was skilled enough to fight an assassination team alone but you were barely sweating."

Reader runs a hand down his bare arm, as if to demonstrate where the sweat would be. Feyd has had sex with his harpies on his balcony, where any citizen could look up at them. Yet, somehow this makes him feel more exposed.

"I have to leave the citadel tomorrow and I know it's during the time that you normally train but I wanted to ask if you, or some of your friends would accompany me for safety. I cannot order you as you are all just guests here, but with two attempts on my life I am a little frightened." Reader either smooths her dress down, or wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt - Feyd isn't sure which.

"You know my training schedule?" Feyd asks, a grin on his face. He'd never seen her watching him train with his men but from the maroon flush on her cheeks he was now sure that she had.

Reader looks down, embarrassed. And that's when Feyd remembers he is not the Harkonnen heir right now, able to flirt and propose to any highborn woman he sets his heart on. He's a lowly servant and may as well be an earthworm pining after Shai-Hulud.

This is going to end in tears.

He agrees to go.

Ok this was supposed to be a quick idea where Feyd had to pretend to be a commoner while spying on Reader and her family, and Princess Reader fell for him while thinking they could never be together but the uhhhh political thriller explanation for why he was spying got a little out of hand. That's my bad. (also Political powerhouse Reader is maybe my fave trope atm as evidenced by 1, 2, 3 and now 4)

[thejacketexchange]

nocturnal animals — update

the outsiders + the batman 2022 fusion. rated m, contains explicit omgaverse, dallas winston/ponyboy curtis

During the day, there isn't anyone who would be occupying the Iceberg Lounge that didn't work there. The doors were closed to the public until ten at night at the earliest, and given how expansive the clientele were, it was always a hassle to get in if you didn't have the right person or didn't come at the right time. Privately, however, there was always something going on: people coming and going, things being shipped, cleaned, arranged. The normal thing people did with a business happened. Then there was the other business, conducted in the real jewel of the Iceberg Lounge. That business operated at all hours no matter what, and never without the watchful eye of the mob families that still operated in Gotham. That was the real pull of it — no matter who you were, if you wanted some kind of standing, if you really wanted to know the real Gotham, you had a foot inside of 44 Below. If any of them knew that the youngest Curtis-Atreides was there, shivering as he stepped into a grimy basement, they'd hit the roof. There would be questions, accusations even, and whispers. [read on AO3]

[alittlefrenchtree]

Aaaand we're back at it and things are getting serious.

SPOILERS DUNE (Book II : MUAD'DIB, Chapters 10-11)

Chapter 10:

For a unknown reason this,

has become "twenty kilometers" in the french translation. So it's not as big as I thought but it's still quite big.

So the apparent goal of the Fremen is to plant trees (how ironic for a Timmy movie 😁) but they have to do it secretly because... Because with trees there wouldn't be as much spice and people who control Arrakis don't want that? I'm trying to simplify a hypothesis here so I can start caring a bit more about the political plot of Dune. I don't know if it's true.

Did I already wonder if Arrakis was Earth? What is left of it anyway. With all that water deep underground, that could mean something but I haven't really paid attention to details for that theory.

I'm less interested to the first part of the quote, which feels quite common than by the second and the importance it give to individuals. I'm not sure what I think about it yet, but it's interesting. Tell me more, Stilgar.

I'm starting to like this guy.

Ok, I don't know if we didn't talk about this yet or if we did and I already forgot,

but I haven't paid attention to the words used to talk about the prophecy and if it ever mentions a boy or if it's a genderless word every time like child or offspring. I don't remember ever seeing anything about a boy? Because this Bene Gesserit is going to have another kid. And based on how much Star Wars is "inspired" of Dune, do I have to consider that the Chosen One is not the one we expected but someone else from his family? Will Paul go full dark side and is the young sister going to bring balance to the Force? We'll see.

There is something mentioned in this chapter and in the next one that intrigue me a lot:

and this:

I wonder if it's because on something on Arrakis, like the Spice or if someone purposely did something. And if so, who?

So. We need to talk about the end of this chapter. It is part of the answer I was looking for, isn't it? I think?

I really feel like these last couple of pages are a gift celebrating all of my birthdays at the same time so I couldn't be happier. I'm not sure it's going to be the most interesting thing to read but I'm going to try to rephrase all that it says about prescience to sort my thoughts out and be sure I have understood everything.

So first, future in the Dune universe is not predefined timelines set in stone. Paul sees some of them, maybe too much of them for them to all be intelligible for him (yet?) but there are too many, each of them able to sprout from the tiniest changes, including one I hadn't considered before but that is very clever. Which is that, every time Paul accesses to prescience, he makes the future shifts by this very access to prescience.

But, even more amazing amazingness:

Quantum mechanics!! Remember when I was obsessed with it a few months back? Now I have the perfect excuse to make time to read about quantum mechanics again 😍 I'm so happy 😭

Edit: couldn't help myself and start reading about Heisenberg indeterminacy and omg it's amazing and it's even more amazing used it at a way to illustrate prescience. For those who understand French and are interested, I recommend this short and easy access video. But is exactly what's happening with Paul. Future reacts to him like quantum particles react to light. Why are quantum mechanics always so amazing? 😭

But let's go back a few lines above because:

First, Herbert was brillant for using the lexical field of water to talk about Paul's visions of the future. I mean it says it all by itself, isn't it? And secondly, am I supposed to read there that the blind spots of prescience are directly born from fear and that the litany is here to make the blindness go away or, to make the subject survive through blindness or am I not? Like when it says Fear is a mind killer, it isn't just a way of speaking, a psychological thing but a way of saying Fear makes you lose your prescience capacity?

And,

I absolutely love to see stillness making a comeback with an image close that what I have in mind. I can't wait to see what it will look like on screen. Given what I saw of Villeneuve's work already and the second Dune trailer, I trust him completely with this part. The inspiration is going to be amazing, the fan arts are going to be amazing, everything is going to be amazing.

I love and admire Herbert a lot for what he has done here with the end of this chapter and prescience in general. Trying to explain how a brain can apprehend concepts and principles that are too big, beyond everything that can normally be grasped by a human mind. Feeling the brain expands as it tries. Accept concepts that are opposite, contradictory even and still both true. It's really the kind of things I was expecting when I start reading so I'm very happy to see it deliver (and i need even more of it).

Chapter 11:

I was talking about religion vs propaganda last time and how maybe it wasn't that different for some aspects but... Bene Gesserit are religious people aren't they? I mean Jessica does pray. I don't know what or who she prays but she believes in the power of it.

"If I could only pray -- truly pray."

And by this truly pray, I suspect it's not only a matter of belief but the prayer does have real power. I'm-- confused about what kind of beliefs BG has given (more or less willingly) to Fremen (and probably other people around the universe as well). Is the religion only based on Bene Gesserit's powers? Is it a religion they believe in themselves? And for what purpose? Only create safe places for themselves or something else?

I also wonder why Chani is helping Paul so much as well? The guy just show up from nowhere and she already gives him tips to help him kill one of her people. It's weird.

Of course there are so many parts of the fight that made me go omg I can't wait to see Timmy play this. Gimme the fighting machine trained since the day he was born.

The after-fight is really interesting:

"Jessica stared at her son. Paul's were bright. He breathed heavily, permitting the ministration to his body rather than helping them."

🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

This kid is going to be the death of me, isn't he? But Jessica bringing him down right after is kind of funny. From a semi-god to a child in one quick mental slap of his mother 😁

I've already talked about the tiny jumping mouse Muad'dib but it's really amazing. I wasn't expecting that at all. I'm guessing the mouse will have a bigger purpose at some point? No sure. What I'm really wondering is if I should expect Paul to go full Anakin on me? Wait. Oh. OH. Jessica is the one bringing him down so he doesn't grow so full of himself for killing opposants but what if she's gone? What if she dies, like Anakin's mom and, like for Anakin, the mom's death is one of the first steps leading the son to dark side? Damn. We see there are several futures where people walking behind Paul or the Atreides and setting worlds of fire (and not planting trees, obviously). It goes without saying that I would love, love to see Timmy plays a character who go dark side. Not sure if it will be the case here, but it could be interesting.

Ok, it's already long enough with only two chapters so I'm going to stop this for now. I have to read first anyway. See ya! 🌖💛

[hohm8]

The interpretation of movie “Dune” (1984, David Lynch) and why Duncan “Idaho”?

The movie Dune in the version of David Lynch of 1983-1984 is either to be hated or loved. The viewers which hated the movie hated it mostly by the 19th Century Outfits, Thematics which not fitting to a science fiction movie. etc while others loved it. I am surely not how many people made some deeper minds about the background thematics of the books by Frank Herbert and the film, just enjoyed the movie as it is. But I am sure about the background of the book and the movie: Dune is perhaps some 1960s/1970s preview of the wars about the oil reserves in the world and especially in middle east!

1. Spice means Oil

2. Imperator Shaddam 

Perhaps in fact/ was already some Knowledge Frank Herbert and David Lynch surely got by reading newsletters of middle east (or perhaps he got some CIA readers of his conceptual books) of S(h)addam Hussein. In that Dune books S(h)addam got already the supremacy in middle east about all the oil reserves in middle east (imperator and in fact Iraq still got about 20%-30% percent of all world wide oil reserves).  As far S(h)addam followed the rules of monstrous and black leather latex dressed Navigator Guilds (=Intelligence services, meaning the CIA together with british MI6 -> british petrol BP, Shin Beth, Mossad, French intelligence services , BND etc.), he could have the opportunity to become/stay the imperator in middle east (till Saddam Hussein went his own way, and attacked Kuwait...)

3.The navigator guild (and the monster) Are the more developed and technical supremaced western federal government intelligence agencies (CIA, MI6, Mossad, Shin beth, French intelligence services) of USA, GB, Israel and the western countries, which are need the Spice (Oil) for their fleets and warship and they are equipped/ degenerated with super kinetic / mind and brain reading and voice transforming possibilities, to which S(h)addam Hussein had to obey... if not he got killed (what really happened to Saddam Hussein...)

4. The Navigator Monster Perhaps Frank Herbert did express the body sickening harming cosmic radiation by each airplane flight and the airplane fuel/exhausting as well as the products of Oil (Benzols, Gasoline etc.) resulting in such monster...

5. The Sardaukar soldiers vs the Soldiers of Atreides The Sardaukar warriors were looking like modern soldiers in a NBC-Protective suit (Photo next: Movie scene, Sardaukar Soldiers advancing)

Photo next: Real existing NBC Protective Army Suit

with super powers and better weapons than the Atreides Soldiers, although some of the Atreides soldiers (Duncan Idaho) had some switchable energy shield (looked like in later Predator Movies), but it seems that the Sardaukar had the something same and they pierced with a slow moving mini drone the shield of Atreides Soldiers (Film character “Duncan Idaho vs Sardaukar”). BTW: Why Idaho??? Is there an US Army NBC Research institute?

6. The quisatz haderakh is in fact are real existing jewish words while Mua’dib is high arabian language. In fact here is the  obscured cooperation meant between Saudi Arabia and Israel (against Iran)

7. The baron Harkonnen

In the case of Baron Harkonnen I am not sure, whether he is one of the US-presidents or British government leaders which wanted control the whole middle east oil reserves for british petrol (BP) (I think the latter, because Regisseur Lynch let him look like the monstrous, fat, and by diabetes and syphilis deformed 

and very aggressive medieval english king Henry VIII)

8. The Duke Leto Atreides was looking of a mix between the last russian czar and some german Bismarck, and showed by his assasination/dead (the czar and his family was really killed) that the then/today Russia had almost lost in that pre 1st WW period the supremacy of the oil in middle east. And why Bismarck? Because he was at that time the top diplomate, keeping that fragile european-russian pre 1st Worldwar system going...

9. The outfits of the artists Lynch wanted surely to show a pre-1st World War contrast to that far in future laying story, maybe also to show the thinking viewer, that we since that pre 1st WW time in war against each high technologzised country/continents (Russia, Europe, USA etc.) for oil and that S(h)addam Hussein was a puppet of these continents and countries.

10. The worms are in fact the huge tunnel boring machines which creates tunnels for using hidden pipelines and tunnels for weapons and transport tunnels in that Iraqi / Iranian region

There are also plenty more movies about that thematic “Future wars described obscured in normal belletristic books” and surely you know Robert Redfords movie “The three days of condor”.