#harah noise

[zasterikz]

coronavirus hold music (merry christmas) / and a happy new year

my first release of 2024! musics inspired by having covid from christmas eve to new years eve; track one being from the very worst of the sickness' course and track two a new year's day harsh noise sesh to ring in what I'm sure will be another glorious year of progressive hearing loss for us all ♡ merry christmas & happy new year ♡

[sandwormrp]

I Will See You Again

Paul Atreides x Ghola!Chani Kynes 830 words

Summary: A canon-divergent universe taking place between Messiah and Children of Dune. Spoilers ahead. The jihad has happened and wiped out a good portion of the known universe. The Lisan al-Gaib controls the new empire under the Atreides banner. After her death, Paul accepted the offer of bringing Chani back as a Ghola. He knows there will be a price to pay but has yet to see it.

Under the light of the two moons, his sayyadina took her last fighting breath. He’d seen it, knew it was coming, but to experience another moment of it was too much to bear. He should feel guilty for permitting it. Should have reasoned his way out of agreeing to it. But soon they were carrying her body away and there was no going back from the path now laid out before him. This was always going to be the way his vision went.

She was gone, and now all he needed to do was survive until he could be with her again.

He felt the overwhelming urge to abandon himself to the grief. It beckoned him in a serenade of sand and the sound of water towards his finality in this plane of existence. To live on again as an echo in time. Paul Atreides held onto himself as there was no more Chani to do that for him.

The noise of children brought him back to focusing on the present. How easy it was for him to slip away into himself.

He held them for as long as he could that night. Reassuring the children it was going to be alright. Irulan, Stilgar and Harah rallied around to ensure the twins would survive the coming months without their mother. He was told they had those same knowing eyes as Alia had. Abominations. He couldn't see their futures quite so clearly. In the end, he saw his own path remained for as long as Chani did.

Creating a Ghola was no simple feat. It would take time. Paul kept no track of the way the days bled into one another. Letting himself run on autopilot, flickering in and out from one moment to the next. Until that final day someone told him, “She’s here, Muad'Dib. The Tleilaxu would like you to accept this gift as they send their condolences for your loss.”

He was back in Arrakeen when it happened. Unable to leave the throne unattended for too long. The children kept protected under the watchful eye of his sietch back in Tabr. Unwilling to bring the children away from the bubble of protection they now had.

He’d remembered his first encounter of Hayt. Their discussions and strangeness between their relationship until it no longer was. None of it had prepared him for meeting Chani.

Removing himself carefully from the throne he ordered his Fremen to bring her to the room and for everyone else to leave. Chani had been created for the revered prophet and the Tleilaxu had given him the gift of another burden. One he would carry for the rest of his life. He’d resigned himself to carry it without complaint.

“Hello Chani.” Paul started, the vision of her floated before him into the room. Finding his voice faltered on sounding so formal. It felt the weight of their disconnect with his desire to be close. He'd been waiting at the bottom of the stairs to the throne, making his impatience known as he kept a shortened distance from her. The sound of footsteps around them indicated the departure of all others. Without the gift of sight, Paul relied on his other senses to reach out consciously towards her. Seeking out that spark he’d felt the first time he’d encountered her all that time ago.

“The twins are safe. They’re with your uncle. You must have more questions. I have some of my own.” He lowered himself to sit on the sandstone steps, reaching to pat beside him. Bringing the conversation down. Wondering if she carried any inkling of maternal instinct for their children, or if they were now also just strangers. Much like he was. A painful thought he wouldn't entertain for long.

He wasn’t the Emperor of all the known universe in this space. All he wanted to be was Paul, or at least, whatever was left that remained of him. “I used to get nightmares of some of the things I could see. You would wake me and soothe those non-existent tomorrows with a touch of your hand. I know there’s no waking up this time. No touch that can soothe me. All I know is that I couldn’t live in a universe where there was no you. Be that what it may. You're free to decide for yourself how you choose to live this life.”

Paul dipped his head and faced the ground at his feet. Hoping she wouldn’t stare too long. The universe had not been kind to him or the vastness of the lives within him.

“The Tleilaxu will be wondering how their previous Ghola has managed to overcome their conditioning. Though they won’t openly admit to this attempt on my life, or the lives of our children. Their means to kill me has failed, and you’re either here to remedy that situation or to also try for yourself.” He smiled faintly in a sad sort of way. “So... nothing new.”

Continued on our jcink rp!

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

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Alive

*Contains spoilers for the first book*

Fandom: Dune

Pairing: Gurney Halleck x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18 +

Words: 4 298

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Threats of Violence, Smut, Spit Kink

Tagging: @brightlycoloredteacups @captainpoopweinersoldier @rnlaing @placeinthemiddleofnowhere @you-fxcking-wish-bish @daddysofmyuniverse

Excerpt

The sietch is alive with motion and noise as several people prepare for the return of their loved ones that went out with Paul and Stilgar. There’ll likely be a gathering in the great hall where the two men make some announcement regarding some of the younger Fremens’ whispers that Paul should challenge the sietch leader and take over completely. It doesn’t concern you. You’re sick of the politics, have been for a long time, and know that regardless of who rules - Stil or ‘the Muad’Dib’ - you have your place with the Reverend Mother and Harah. One of the Fedaykin stands guard outside, sparing you only a glance before returning to stare straight ahead while you head inside.

Finish on AO3