page 546 of dune by frank herbert

People don’t think I’m funny but I think I’m funny.

Dune Frank Herbert

“Dune" is, without exaggeration, an era, a magnitude in literature that is difficult to overestimate. A science fiction saga, with elements of the novel of chronicles and adulthood, space opera and dystopia, metaphorical narrative full of philosophy and mysticism.

The first trilogy of the classic cycle is full of the life and life of a free people, the planetary ecosystem including the giant worms, echoes of courtly strife, the structure of organizations equally ruling the Known Universe but also dependent on the spice that is produced only on Arrakis.

High and intense text full of concentrated substrate based on religion, politics, ecology, legal and cultural issues, immediate survival, while learning about the future.

The plot is fascinating, like standing in the center of a huge temple complex in Kornak, where the desert wind brings the essence of plans within plans.

Compared to the TV series and screen adaptations, the book predetermines the accents in relation to the characters, making them full and vivid, clear in plot twists, meeting the author's intent and the logic of behavior under given conditionsThe story itself I really liked, probably partly because I generally love fiction and somehow have not read something interesting and non-anal of this genre for a long time. A lot of fiction books are based on Christianity, and this is the first book in my memory that is based on Islam.

I also like the way Frank Herbert describes the characters' looks - almost without details, leaving room for imagination. The story is not long, lively enough and colorful enough, and I have experienced this forgotten feeling again and again, when I want to return to the book to find out what is going on.One of the main themes is the opposition between the houses of Atreides and Harkonnen. In these quotes, a clear example of the difference between the houses: the Atreides pay love for loyalty, while the Harkonnens gain submission through hatred. 'How much he talks! - Hawat thought. - This is not Duke Leto, who could speak to me with a wave of the hand, a movement of the eyebrow. What a carcass! The author (maybe the translation) shows Vladimir Harkonnen as a huge carcass, which has accumulated large reserves of precious water. This is the main peculiarity of the desert Arrakis. Arrakis. A desert planet, also known as Dune. There, under the scorching sun, there float huge worms on the sand, from which it is impossible to hide. There’s a free folk out there - Fremen with blue-tinted eyes that cover even squirrels. And, most importantly, Arrakis - the only place where the spice is extracted. Spice or melange - the most important wealth in the universe. If water is commonplace on Kaladan... here, in the desert conditions, its value is high. To show your respect, love, loyalty, you must share water. Whether it's spitting or mourning the dead. One of my favorite characters is the planetologist Kynes, who dreamed of turning the desert into an oasis. His father managed to plant and implement this idea among the Freemen, and his son continued his work ... Freemen are a hardened people of the desert with their own philosophy and way of life...they were told that the work of greening Arrakis is labor-intensive and the results can be fully appreciated only by the eighth generation. Not only that, but the Freemen and the Kynes did not abandon it, but passed it on from generation to generation. Valuable and very much appreciated. Chani is a great representative of the Freemen. Honestly, I didn't really understand why Jessica didn't think she was a good match for her son, even though she thought she was a worthy representative of the Bine Gesaerit school. Chani is wise, intelligent and loving to Paul. She is such a reliable and strong support for him.In general, the novel is a very interesting story, competently combining social problems, political peripetias, religious ascents, life philosophy, many multi-layered mysteries, and I think, even some meditation.And all this cornucopia is doused in beautiful, smooth, syllable with detailed, distinctive style descriptions that include perfectly developed characters. I wholeheartedly recommend the novel, I don't know if I'll be able to experience all six books, but I'm now serious about part two. For anyone interested, I recommend that you be patient and take your time with this story, getting to know it at your own pace.

I'm God's favorite

“To accept a little death is worse than death itself” Chani said.

Dune 1984 / Spiracle by Flower Face / Dune: Part One / Dune: Part Two / Dune by Frank Herbert

Ah yes Dune, we have witch bitch wizard Mother of the millennium, narrative successor accidental-deliberate genocidal religious despot, eldest daughter traumacore war criminal princess, the only one who can think straight but is doomed by falling in love with the said prophet-despot, 4 year old space cocaine abomination turned cult-leader, and fridged malewife. Family of all time truly.

paul and alia atreides + dune messiah, frank herbert

Dune fans in the 60s: Paul Atreides is a modern literary hero!

Frank Herbert writing Dune Messiah:

rabban when the baron asks wtf he's doing on arrakis

Girl look at that body 😤

No freaking way-

Pg 226 (Dune, Frank Herbert)

You guys have no idea how funny this is to me

the chemistry (i am delusional)

page 376 of dune by frank herbert

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani)

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

PART I: JESSICA

Lady Jessica focused her intent gaze on the Reverend-Mother’s... gift. This gaze, to which the minutiae of observation was second nature rather than practiced pretense, followed the lines of the girl-child’s high cheekbones up towards large eyes that appeared to overwhelm the face they were set in.

She’d seen that look in those eyes before. Perhaps a thousand times over, a million times over. Reflected in the mirror back at her on Wallach IX, reflected in the shadowed eyes of the girls she barely remembered. The girls that one by one fell, until amongst a hundred girls there stood five Bene Gesserit.

Jessica’s skirt rustled against the floor as she stalked closer, circling the child, examining every angle.

How interesting.

Such control in the child’s bearing, belied by such fear.

Paul had always been fascinated with off-world animals in the filmbooks; the agrarian creatures that inhabited Caladan for over twenty generations bore no thrill to her clever son. Jessica had never understood his fascination as the filmbooks rendered such organisms dead to her. Mere simulacrums of life with soulless eyes.

Perhaps one such simulacrum stood before her now in the form of a human girl. “Reverend-Mother, does she have a name?”

“We call her Chryse. However, if that name does not suit you, Jessica, you may name her as you wish. It is of no consequence to us.” Reverend-Mother Mohiam’s demeanor certainly hadn’t changed in the slightest from the days when she served her overtly. When Gaius Helen Mohiam spoke, everything from her inscrutable countenance to the even tones of her voice commanded subservience. “You will not harm nor bring harm to the girl-child. It is our one order.”

Jessica watched as Mohiam brushed her fingers against Chryse’s jaw to tilt her still face up towards the sallow light of the glow-globe. Not even a muscle twitched in her smooth facade. Jessica wondered what sort of chaos lay beneath, whether the girl would be like the jagged rocks under the beckoning surface of Caladan’s oceans. Only a fool would dive into the dark water blindly.

There was no other option but to acquiesce. “You have my word. She shall not come to harm under my care or the care of House Atreides.”

“Good.” A look passed between them, lasting only a second. Within that second lay an eternity.

The Reverend-Mother strode from the room with an economical gait, not sparing another iota of energy to look back.

Jessica knew then the precise nature of this “present”.

How many men had failed in the making of the Kwisatz Haderach? How many years, decades, centuries had her sisters carefully tended the most sacred plant, a mind that could bridge space and time. If Paul failed -

She stopped that fearful thought in its tracks, held it in the cradle of her mind’s eye, then let it pass through.

The Bene Gesserit were patient like mountains were patient. Time was an endless resource. It was better to cultivate many plants of good stock than to nurture a small garden and watch as its leaves shrivel and diel. Chryse was not and could never be the Kwisatz Haderach. Perhaps that fact ought to have assuaged Jessica’s fear. Yet - if Paul should die while he was only eleven, the House of Atreides forever extinguished, the child seemed poised to become the next vessel to carry the bloodline of the Kwisatz Haderach. Only ten years old, and she had mastered the prana-bindu like an adept three times her age. Who knew what sort of terror she had been bred to create?

Her son had already shown promise even without her training. Paul might flourish, grow into a man, grow into the mind that the universe needed. That would never come to pass if Chryse supplanted him.

Mohiam must have felt some minute degree of affection towards Jessica. If she hadn’t, the Reverend-Mother would not have left the girl in her care. The blade was double-edged; the Bene Gesserit cared not for which of the two survived, only that one of them did. Motherhood had softened Jessica to the point where she felt some empathy for her poor charge. Not enough empathy to entirely stay her hand, but enough that she wanted the girl to live. Enough that she intended to lift the burden of killing her from Paul’s narrow shoulders.

“Come here, girl.” Once she was close enough that the Bene Gesserit-trained woman could stretch out a single, finely-boned hand and press her fingers to the weapon’s temple, she bade her stop.

Jessica brushed her mind carefully up against Chryse’s, wary of the mind traps the girl had surely been taught from birth.

There were no traps. Not even a token protest.

Chryse had fewer defenses than a newborn infant. Her mind was splayed out in the open; even the slightest whisper of Voice guaranteed complete obedience. The Bene Gesserit had truly forged a weapon of a girl. She hadn’t a psyche of her own - where there should lay a personality was instead filled with iron bars of mind conditioning. Jessica’s heart ached for her. No child deserved to live like that.

A moment passed wherein she further plumbed the depths of her mind. Jessica knew then that Chryse could never use a Voice of her own. The same breeding that had left her mind wide open had left her unable to Speak. But of what use to the lineage of the Kwisatz Haderach was a girl entirely unable to use the Voice and critically susceptible to it?

The vision came on suddenly, as the waves did against the shores of Caladan. A figure whirled amongst dozens of men as they fell to their knees. The lady knew those movements by heart even though they felt wrong. It was the Weirding Way, without a doubt. At the same time, every action was utterly alien. Chryse moved through the battlefield like a valkyrie of old with hands that created ruination with every twitch. Her deficit of Voice was more than made up by her complete mastery over the physical realities of others. Lungs collapsed inwards; hearts refused to beat; nerves froze. Blood. Oceans of blood.

Without meaning to, her fingers fell away from the girl’s temple in astonishment and the vision dissipated like morning mist.

The Kwisatz Mother had bred an abomination.

The laws of nature should have forbidden such a being from coming into existence. No doubt, she wouldn’t have without the careful guidance of the Bene Gesserit. What infinite combination of genes could produce a person who could bend human bodies to their will? A weapon to be wielded against the very molecules of anatomy? Chryse had quite a bit further to go before she would become the war goddess Jessica saw in her vision, but her raw talent remained a cudgel poised over Paul’s head and ready to end his life.

This was an unacceptable outcome.

Forgive me, Jessica thought; forgive me for what I must do. “You will never harm Paul Atreides. You will never allow harm to come to Paul Atreides. You will always remain loyal to him and never betray him in the slightest. You will lay down your life for him.” She swallowed down her guilt as she watched her Voice take root in the blank shell of the young girl’s mind. That Chryse was now freed from Bene Gesserit absolute control was a small consolation for the crime done against her. For Paul to live, this girl must be subjugated.

Her wide, dark eyes blinked. There it was - a tiny spark of life in her young, solemn face. Chryse was just a girl. A young one, at that. Innocent. Guilt ensnared Jessica’s heart and held it in a chokehold. The sisterhood had not completely uprooted her weak personality, but there was no doubt that their conditioning program left permanent scars. Jessica’s Voice would not have affected Chryse nearly as much without it.

The lady resolved always to be tender to the girl. At a minimum, she could improve the quality of Chryse’s life. Jessica told herself this as she called for servants to take the girl, bathe her, dress her, and prepare a chamber for her near Paul’s. Was it so selfish of her to want her son to live? At any cost? Paul’s new companion would always be treated well and never punished. There were worse fates. For the Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Gesserit could commit any number of sins.

But Jessica knew her mind and herself. This was a blood debt that she could never repay.

Paul would be safe, and the girl’s powers would never be used against him. That would be her consolation.

-

Her palms smoothed over the muscled plains of Leto’s back. The Duke was her husband in all but name, and Jessica reveled in how he relaxed at her touch. At the school on Wallach IX, she’d learned everything but the warmth of trust and partnership built from deep, mutual love. There was no room in the lives of the Bene Gesserit for any kind of love besides the love of the sisterhood. It was this trust and love that had led Jessica to birth Leto a male heir instead of the daughters she’d been commanded to produce.

Leto reluctantly pulled himself away from her to pick through some papers strewn across his desk. “What’s this I hear about a new handmaiden joining our household?” 

Involuntarily, Jessica inhaled. “Ah, my new charge. Chryse. An orphan, Bene Gesserit trained but not suited to the task. Reverend-Mother Mohiam, the Imperial truth-sayer, has entrusted her safety to me.” She kept her hands out of Leto’s line of sight so he couldn’t see the tension in her white knuckles. Ever so slowly, the lady exhaled. Again, guilt. The guilt threatened to consume her whole.

Her husband had always been far too intuitive for his own good. “She is young.” Sometimes a conversation with him was like playing chess. Every word, every tone, every movement playing off those of the other. Jessica enjoyed such a conversation far more when the stakes were not nearly as high. Perhaps he knew even subconsciously what she felt, what she had done.

Jessica let the silence in the air hang.

Leto sat at his desk, his brown eyes never leaving her smooth face.

She conceded first. “It will be some time before the girl will serve as my handmaiden in truth, but is she not of an age with Paul?” Not quite a lie, not quite a truth. A certainty presented as a question even though she had already decided the answer.

With no other child from her in sight and no political marriage alliance contracted to provide others, her son remained at the forefront of his father’s concerns. “Paul must keep his attention turned towards his lessons. I trust you, Jessica. He cannot be distracted.” Leto was known to others as inscrutable and honorable. She could read every emotion that flickered across his handsome face. He was worried; that much was plain. He was worried about what the legacy he’d built and the enemies he made might do to his kind son. His only son.

Even though he would never know it, the solution to his worries was close at hand. “My love, every child needs a companion. There are no children of an age with Paul on Caladan and certainly none suitable for his station. I’ve seen his loneliness. I know you have too.” The truth in her words was undeniable. Only eleven years old, and Paul had never known a friend his age on Caladan. He glued himself to his filmbooks and the stories of Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Leto cared for more than just raising an heir. Jessica knew he loved Paul. He worried about his well-being. Her husband would grant her this wish. Check.

“What better place for a friend than a girl in his mother’s service? They won’t have to be parted for quite some time. And there is no better judge of caliber than the Bene Gesserit.”

His resigned sigh echoed in the quiet of his study. Checkmate. “You’re right.” Leto’s footsteps as he got up and drew closer to her were a comforting rhythm. She knew that rhythm by heart.

“I do tend to be.” The impulse to feel the rhythm of his pulse beneath her hands overtook her, and she let it. Jessica reached out to press herself to him. Her Duke responded in kind as he gently drew her arms around his neck and brushed his forehead against hers.

It was more than enough sometimes to breathe in the same air as her beloved. To know that she shared space, time, and life with him.

Leto pressed a kiss to her mouth. Without any further words, he left the room.

Her fingers pressed against her closed eyes as if to alleviate the burden she’d taken upon herself. All of this would be justified in the end. Jessica had to keep faith in that.

Reposting this unfinished dune fic i started during the 1st movie and orphaned on ao3! Seems as if there's interest. LMK if you want on the tag list.

You should fear me, Mother. I am the Kwisatz Haderach.

The Mother and the Son!

Dune by Frank Herbert / Sabaa Tahir

we already have people bitching about how “i can’t stand Chani, she’s so annoying 🙄” and “Paul chose Chani to be the mother of his children, Irulan is just at the sidelines eating dust as she should”, like brothers we cannot do this again. We can’t Chani v Irulan our way out of this one because the problem is Paul and the Empire. Gosh, we truly are never getting out of the patriarchy.