#the unmade dune

[muttonchopsalley]

More Max Duoy designs from the unproduced Alejandro Jodorowsky version of Dune

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

Sea, Salt, Thirst

wc: ~1.5 k

tags: TRIGGER WARNING, mommy issues, nonverbal reader, severe depression, angst/comfort, nursing kink but non-sexual ig?, Lilia's boobs could cure my depression, writing pathetic stuff so I don't kms, unnecessarily poetic, not sure if I'll put it on Ao3 might delete later anyway bc what even is this shit, not edited, not beta'ed

****************************************************

You had been floating on a piece of driftwood, too far out perhaps. And then, out of nowhere, the white whale had leapt out of the abyss and swallowed you whole, taking you down with him as it crashed through the surface. In the belly of the beast, acids dissolved more of you each day, erasing the evidence of your existence.

And Lilia... Lilia tried. It was in her nature to fuss and nurture, but her helplessness in regards to your condition brought it to new heights. She hovered. She worried. She pleaded and held her peace.

Today, you had awoken in the middle of the night, as if a bucket full of ice had been chugged over your head, and had been unable to go back to sleep or do anything except weep. Weep and bawl and wail like a hungry infant. Because you always came back to this place no matter how many miles of running had hardened your soles. Everything you wanted had manifested as a fata morgana out of reach, appearing in the middle of the desert, induced by thirst, the promise of better. But every drop of water in your body had already evaporated in the flaming sun, and you could run no more. The heat struck you down and made you a crinkling, rotting heap in the sand, buried between dunes, whose endless stream of tears were but sand corns falling from your eyes, chafing and scratching your decrepit cheeks.

Lilia came to check on you again in the afternoon, carrying a fresh cup of tea and a burning bundle of sage to "clear your spirits," as she liked to say. You hadn't even touched the cup she'd made you for lunch; it sat next to the equally neglected food that had done nothing more than bother you with its nutritious smell. Your position was the same she'd left you in—curled up in a ball in an unmade bed with crinkled sheets that Lilia couldn't change since you hadn't left it for days, shaking with quiet sobs, tears streaming down your face.

Sitting on the bedside, she put her hand to your forehead and brushed your hair back to get a better glimpse of you. "Sweetheart." A heavy sigh left her. Her voice was distant and muffled, and your eyes as if paralysed. You couldn't look or blink. You could only cry. "What's with all those tears, hm? I hate to see them."

The only reaction your body produced was a fresh wave flowing from your waterline. Lilia tutted and cupped your cheek, moving her thumb in crescents. "Baby..."

You whimpered; something about the word struck a chord within you. Her hand was so warm and tender on your skin, not burning like the sun that made you fade and bleach, but warm like a home warmed by an old, rusty oven; thick and enveloping.

"I'm going to close the shop early," she said and stood up. "Be right back."

When Lilia returned a moment later, she climbed into the narrow wall bed with you and settled against the headboard. Without another word, she pulled you into her lap and began to stroke your head. Her fingers threaded through your hair, separating the strands along your scalp and thereby giving it a gentle massage, and her rings would graze your skin from time to time. Her plush thighs in the very leggings she sold cushioned your heavy, leaden head; a taste of weightlessness to sink into... and the tears fell easier.

"Still not better?" Lilia asked, a helpless edge to her voice.

She wiped at your cheeks with the pad of her thumb. Before she'd removed the first layer of salt, a new one pooled and draped over the finger. She took out a tissue as her next line of defence, but you soaked it within minutes. Your lips, hands, mouth—all dried out and desertificated. You hadn't found water in so long, and all that you'd held within had left you.

"Is there nothing mommy can do?" Lilia's fingers tangled in your unkempt hair, causing a pinch-like pain to shoot across your scalp, but even the pain couldn't find you, brushed right past your weary mind. "For her sweetheart?"

Your eyes squeezed shut with the spillage of more tears, sweeping overboard, pressing through the creaks, and leaving their previous confinement sore and aching dull. You lifted your hands to your burning eyes and clawed your fingers against them, wishing to tear them from their sockets. Your nails sank deeper and deeper into the thin layer of skin until Lilia's fingers curled around your wrist and drew your hands away.

"None of that, baby," she cooed and gathered your loose limbs closer, bending her arm to provide you with a soft place to rest your head while her other hand kneaded your hip. You crumbled more with every touch, like a dry slice of bread for the chicken to pick from the ground with their sharp beaks. "Let mommy hold you. I'll make it all better, I promise."

You closed your eyes, succumbing to the sensations of the infinitely overflowing well and Lilia's arm being the only thing keeping your head above water. It didn't matter what happened to you out there on the ocean, alone amidst the tall, black waves, drifting on a mouldy raft that had infested you already and would die with you before you were washed ashore.

Lilia's clothes shifted around you; sails rustling in the wind. Soft skin brushed against the tip of your nose, and then it bumped against a peak. You opened your eyes and found Lilia's rosy nipple in front of you. She cupped your tear-stained cheek and looked down on you, her face tear-blurred, with an encouraging smile on her lips, nodding.

You opened your mouth just an inch, and Lilia ran her hand over her nude breast, spreading her middle and index finger to slip her nipple in between and guide it between your lips. It was the lightest of brushes. You closed around the small tip and gave a tentative first suck. Lilia let out a long breath, relief, as you did, and nudged her breast around until you found the right angle to suck comfortably. The soft flesh touched against your face as it settled, and she lifted her hand away to tuck a hair behind your ear instead.

"That's it, sweetheart. Latch on to mommy."

It was odd. A terrible vulnerability clutched your heart, but the uncertainty in Lilia's own voice, the rawness, told you she felt the same. Yet, as you continued to nurse, lazy and unhurried, your tears stopped. It went quiet. Everything did.

Her rings and knuckles caressed your cheekbone, slow and languid, falling into a calming rhythm.

"Shhh," she cooed. "No more tears, baby. I've got you."

Cradling the back of your head, Lilia pushed you a bit further into her breast, making you suck her nipple deeper into your mouth. The shape of it pressed against your tongue each time you pulled it in and left a stamp of tingles behind that filled your stomach with a viscous sweetness, chasing away the sickening churns you'd battled for days.

"My sweet girl," Lilia whispered, continuing to hold and caress you, settling into a soft rocking motion. "Mommy's taking care of you now, see? Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about. Just my sweetheart suckling so nicely, like a good girl."

Your breathing evened out, and expelled the spirits from your haunted bones until all that was left was the sensation of your tongue laving against Lilia's breast, growing more hungry for her comfort, diving your nose deeper into the supple swell of it. Muffled noises escaped you, and their subtle hum soothed you just as much as Lilia's gentle voice did.

You spent a while like this; Lilia had sunken further into the pillows supporting her back and sat half-lidded, her hand protective on your waist. You had lulled yourself into sleepiness yourself and slowed, only giving small kitten-licks on occasion. Before either of you could fall asleep, Lilia changed your position so that you lay more comfortably between her legs and your head was pleasantly tucked between her breasts, her slow and steady heartbeat in your ear.

"Feel a bit better?" she murmured into your hair as she combed her fingers through it.

"Yeah," you breathed, nuzzling against her bosom despite already being impossibly close.

"Then just stay like this as long as you want. I'm here just for you," she pressed a kiss into your hair, "and I'm so happy to be able to comfort you, my precious one."

Lilia's arms tightened around you, making it impossible to slip away. All you could do was nestle into the solace of her embrace and let it console you, to surrender into her soft body that moulded to yours and provided you with a place to rest.

"I love you so much, baby. So, so much." She showered you with more kisses, one for each breath you took in her arms. "I'll do anything for you."

[sharkchunks]

Giedi Prime as painted by H.R. Giger for Jodorowsky's unmade Dune

[leeloooonfire]

There's this saying within the group of freaks of Hawkins High and the guys from Corroded Coffin - "Never, ever even think about opening one of Eddie's notebooks if you want to keep all your limbs intact and not roll with disadvantage for the rest of the entire campaign."

It's like an unspoken rule and if one dares to break the silence and say they'd wish to know what kind of treasures lie within the hardcover notebooks dispersed all throughout Eddie's space, their words were whispered off the record. Some, like Gareth, even throw haunted looks over their shoulders and then raise their hands into the air, fingers twisted in a sign against all evil when even one mumbles the unspeakable two words "Eddie's notebooks".

The party were warned early on to never mention the sacred books within Eddie's hearing range or even think about touching them at all.

Only once, Mike dared to reach out for one tattered notebook with a red spine and warped pages when it fell off the table during one of their DnD sessions. Dustin is sure to this day that Mike actually saw his life pass by him in a flash and only his role as one of the youngsters of the group saved his sorry ass from imminent destruction.

Still, even though knowing he might actually not survive this, Dustin really wants to know what's inside of them. Time and time again, Lucas told him to forget it, „You being his favorite won’t save you from his wrath, so banish your foolish wishes from your mind.“

But how could he banish the thoughts when there are so many notebooks around the trailer; hidden between well-loved copies of fantasy books like The Lord of the Rings and Dune or monster manuals within the bookshelves of Eddie's room. When they can be found under the piles of discarded clothes on the floor or kicked under his spray-painted dresser during a heedless moment? One with blue stripes lies just right next to a bottle of bleach under the kitchen sink and two, one blue and one brown, are on the couch at all times. If one might want to relieve themselves during a night of horror movies in the Munson's home, they might find one in the bathroom, right next to the toilet. There are even a few in the tiny gap between Eddie's forever-unmade bed and the patchy, poster-covered wall or in the back of Eddie's beat-up van with stained covers and ripped-out pages.

Some, they all know, are for DnD, and some for his music. One or two, though mostly abandoned within the first few weeks of the year, for school and his studies.

The others? No one really knows.

They all have their own little theories. Like Fred, who thinks Eddie uses most of the notebooks to write down his secret, illegal science experiments. Or Jeff, who once said that Eddie probably uses them for boring stuff like accounting for his drug deals and taxes. Not that Eddie pays any taxes.

There are theories about witchcraft and satanistic rituals held within the pages of the books, obviously. About nude drawings of any DnD monster having intercourse with one of their DnD characters. Theories about him writing a cringy romance novel or poems like an Edwardian nobleman succumbing to his fatal illness.

Clara, one of the older DnD legends who graduated the year before Dustin started Highschool, once said Eddie might be using so many notebooks to keep track of his multiple personalities.

All of them seem rather plausible, but none of them explain why Eddie protects them like Smaug protected the sparkling hoard of gold in the Lonely Mountain.

To the others, it feels like a secret better left alone. To Dustin, however, it seems like the most exciting mystery since his ninth birthday party where his father, then still alive and well, was able to prepare an entire pirate-themed scavenger hunt.

To no one's surprise, he takes the first opportunity that comes along his way to get his hands on one of the thick notebooks.

It's after almost an entire year of wondering, two months after the horrendous affairs of the Upside Down where both Eddie and Max merely escaped with their life and (almost) all limbs intact.

It's when the party and Steve help Eddie and his uncle move out of the now mostly destroyed trailer and into a small house at the edge of Loch Nora.

While the others are all somewhere else in the trailer, Dustin and Steve fill box after box with Eddie's stuff from his bedroom.

"Fucking hell, this place is even filthier than the landfill," Steve mutters to himself when they move the mattress off the bed to dismantle the frame and they get a good look at the trash that gathered under it for probably ever. Or, at least, since Eddie got this bed. Cigarettes, condom wrappers, used tissues -yikes-, crumbled-up or ripped pages, a few scattered pens and more dust than meets the eye. Steve's right, it is filthy. His mother would have a heart attack and then sentences Eddie to a day of cleaning like a disgruntled judge in court.

He is about to say something that's both mean to Steve and still agreeing when he sees them - right at the very edge of the bedframe, hidden underneath a jumper that looks like it could have been Mr Clark's favorite, are seven notebooks.

Dustin moves before Steve can even react; almost jumps over the frame and belly lands on the floor to get to them before the other has the time to count them or take them away or anything.

Steve stares at him with an incredulous look, lifting one part of the frame up in the air, "Why did you do that?"

Dustin shrugs, trying to look innocent like the tiniest baby kitten in the world, and says, "Thought I saw a rat, had to jump."

"A RAT?" Robin shouts, who came into the room to bring yet another empty box for them to fill with Eddie's junk. "WHERE IS THE RAT?"

"There's no rat!" Steve rolls his eyes, but behind Robin, Argyle shouts, "A RAT?"

In the chaos of the entire group trying to find and run away from the non-existing rodent, Dustin grabs three of the notebooks and hides them under his hoodie right between his belly and the waistband of his jeans.

He knows it's shitty.

But - Eddie owns him one, Dustin thinks, for almost dying on him in the Upside Down. So, it somehow feels like his damn right to snoop through his private notebooks.

Just a peak, he tells himself. If it's a diary, he'll close them right away and bring them back to Eddie. It's not like Dustin would want to read something that personal. He would with Mike to make fun of him, but not with Eddie. Despite almost dying and being a massive dork, Dustin thinks Eddie is cool.

This means he will respect his privacy if the notebooks are that personal. Otherwise - what really is the harm, right? Old, discarded DnD notes? Homework and dates of exams? Pffff; it can't be that bad, can it?!

It can.

Less than five hours later, Dustin is sitting on the floor next to his bed and has one of the notebooks open on his legs.

It is definitely not a diary, even though Eddie has marked the pages with dates.

It is, however, probably, pretty personal.

18th of June 1985

They kiss for a long time, lying in the dark, softly and then decisively, chaste and then deep.

Before long, Bilbo lowers down onto Thorin, making a long, slow sound like an early rumble of thunder. 

It's so sexy, hot, amazing. Everything's warm and soft and dark and slick, Bilbo's hand on Thorin's forearm, Bilbo's ass in his lap, back against his chest, Bilbo's hole around his dick. 

Thorin thought that maybe doing whatever Bilbo wanted would ... 

The thing is, Dustin should have closed the notebook after reading the first line right away; shouldn't have even taken them home with him. The thing is he can't just take them back to Eddie and act as if he's never seen what he saw.

And the thing is, is - is that Eddie. Eddie!

Eddie writes - stories?! Fiction? Sexual fiction about two already exciting characters who are, well, are a dwarf and a hobbit. But also are two men.

Sure, Tolkien never explicitly talked about gender in his books, Dustin thinks, but from his understanding and what he's reading in Eddie's notebook, it's two guys - having fictional intercourse.

Does this mean that his brother figure is gay?

Is Eddie a homosexual? Or does he just like writing about Bilbo getting railed by Thorin?

He has sooo many questions, and most of them, he's not sure, he really wants to get an answer.

He is still contemplating what he's going to do with the hobbit porn in his lap when the door opens and Steve comes in with an eye roll, "I knocked about four times, what the hell are you doing that you didn't hear me?"

Dustin, once again, tries to look innocent and shoves the notebook off his lap and under his bed before Steve catches on.

This time, not even a potential rat alert could save his ass, because Steve's eyes narrow and before Dustin can even say anything, the other is on the floor, grabs one of the other two notebooks and opens it.

"NO!" Dustin shouts, slamming against Steve to tackle him and rip the notebook out of his hand, but it is too fucking late.

"Bilbo reacts almost immediately. His mouth latches around the tip, sucking before pulling back and kitten-licking all around the head. Thorin writhes impatiently, his gasps nearly pained. Bilbo suckles, licks [get a dictionary for synonyms] on the tip, and then he glances up, meets Thorin's gaze, and sinks down. - Oh, -."

Steve reads out loud, voice wavering the closer he comes to the end of the passage and then lets go of the book.

Dustin tries to hit Steve in the shoulder before scooping up the notebooks and pushing them under the bed to the other one.

They stare at each other, both flushed and slightly uncomfortable.

God, could El please open one of the portals now so Dustin can hide in the Upside Down? That would be great!

"Please don't say anything!" Dustin says at the same time Steve opens his mouth to let out, "Are you into guys?"

"What? No!"

Steve holds out his hands in front of him as if to protect himself from Dustin's anger, but he raises one eyebrow, "It's okay if you do."

Dustin shakes his head, "Of course, it's okay if I do, but I don't!"

Steve's cheek twitches, clearly unsure how to proceed, and then says, "There's nothing wrong with gay fiction."

"Jesus, I know there's nothing wrong with gay fiction. It's not mine, though."

"Sure!" Steve smiles and reaches out to clasp Dustin on the shoulder, "You can talk to me once you're ready."

"There's nothing to talk about. I have Suzy!"

"Okay, and? There are plenty of people who like both, so it's okay if you just realised that."

Dustin wants to smack his head against a wall, or maybe, Steve's head, "It's seriously not mine. They're Eddie's!"

Steve stills.

Dustin stills. He seriously didn't mean to tell Steve that, to leak Eddie's secret. He just wanted to know what Eddie was hiding, and not maybe, probably out the guy to Steve fucking Harrington.

"Eddie's?! Why do you have Eddie's notebooks?"

Dustin makes a face, deer in the headlight and slightly scared.

Understanding dawns upon Steve's face and he groans, "No you little shit didn't!"

"I didn't!" Dustin says automatically but cringes when Steve kneels down and picks up the three tossed notebooks from the floor.

"Seriously, Dustin, why can you never leave things alone?"

"Please don't tell him."

Steve stares at him, hard, lips pinched together and then sighs, "Okay. But you little fucker own me."

Feel free to use this and make an entire story out of it 🖤☺️

[halfelven]

Best things about children’s stories:

Betrayal

Broken trust

Anger

Revenge

Sailing the seven seas

Sword fights

Dragons

Giant birds

Sea monsters

Magic

Blood and wounds

Bandages

The end of the world

Time as a betrayal

Billowing skirts

The wind

The ocean

The edge of the world

The edge of the sea

Fire

Broken things

Another world

Trees

Great fields of grass

Enchanted forest

Elves and Fairies and the Unknown

Violence

Decisions that can never be unmade

Pain and Suffering

Delicious foods, especially berries

Sleeping outdoors and other forms of camping

Rain

Lightning storms

Horses

Communicating with animals

Falling from great heights

Being knocked unconscious

Cross-dressing

Sexual tension that is never ever discussed or resolved

Trapped in the terribly large old house while rain beats on the roof and windows

Living in the attic

Ghosts

Secrets

Graveyards

Gardens, secret and otherwise

Hiding

A war that could consume you

Death

Loyalty

Backstabbing

Grief that will destroy you

Despair

Hope

Dragging yourself across the ground with the little strength you have left

Climbing: trees, buildings, cliffs, etc.

Flowers

Fireworks

Booby traps

Old tombs

Broken windows

Cobwebs

Not crying (it takes all your strength)

Weeping (it takes all your strength)

A world forever changed

A world forever lost

The edge of forever

A mistake

Lost innocence

Some kind of shadow lurking in the trees

Candles

Falling through ice

Rain soaked and freezing

Undressing by the fire

A healer

Braiding someone’s hair

Torture

Ribbons

Hidden treasure

Hair blowing in the wind

Cursed amulets and rings and various other pieces of jewellery

Picnics

Mountains

Glens

Deserts and sand dunes

Storms

Famine

Hunger

Shame like a knife

Adults too weak to be anything but evil

Adults too weak to be anything but trampled on

Hospitals

Secret tunnels

Masks and other disguises

Mystery

Dreams and nightmares

Starry skies like a cloak around the world

Moss

Playing in streams and rivers

Swimming

Freedom

Running until your body burns

Self hatred

Self loathing

Self as a prison

Another dream

Marble floors

Castles and palaces and

Wandering long, empty halls

Childhood as a cage

Childhood as sand slipping too quickly through your fingers

Childhood as something stolen

Cutting your hair

Feather beds

Guard dogs

Monsters

Lily pads

Ponds

Koi fish

Caves

Hidden caverns

Losing something you can’t even explain and

Nothing will ever be the same

There was a story before you

There will be a story when you are gone

[nothingeverythingallatonce]

Chris Foss - Destroyed Spice Pirate Ship. Concept art from Alejandro Jodorowsky's unmade Dune project.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Projections have THE GARFIELD MOVIE opening somewhere in the $20-30m range for the three-day, and somewhere over $30m for the 4-day.

In other words, it's opening like a typical post-COVID breakout animated movie. Unless you were the Mario movie, MINIONS 2, or few other films, you stayed below $30-35m for the three-day opening. For context:

$146m - THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE

$120m - SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

$107m - MINIONS: THE RISE OF GRU

$57m - KUNG FU PANDA 4

$50m - LIGHTYEAR

The five half-hundred openers. And then... Other big studio Western animated movie (and in some cases, hybrid)... Squarely below $35m:

$33m - IF

$31m - SPACE JAM: A NEW LEGACY

$30m - TROLLS BAND TOGETHER

$29m - ELEMENTAL

$28m - MUTANT MAYHEM

$27m - ENCANTO

$23m - THE BAD GUYS

$23m - DC LEAGUE OF SUPER-PETS

$22m - PAW PATROL: THE MIGHTY MOVIE

$22m - SING 2

$19m - WISH

$17m - THE ADDAMS FAMILY 2

$16m - THE BOSS BABY: FAMILY BUSINESS

$14m - TOM & JERRY

$13m - PAW PATROL: THE MOVIE

$12m - MIGRATION

$12m - PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH

$12m - STRANGE WORLD

So, yeah, THE GARFIELD MOVIE is performing as usual. It curiously has a B+ CinemaScore, when usually, an animated picture - no matter the reviews - gets an A- minimum. I still expect it to leg up until INSIDE OUT 2 is released, and make back its fair $60m budget.

Director Mark Dindal deserves a big hit after three movies that didn't quite cut it at the box office. CATS DON'T DANCE was dumped by Warner Bros. and made soooo little in 1997, THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE was similarly dumped by Disney but had the fortune of garnering excellent legs that might not have covered its budget, but it showed that Disney had a sleeper hit on their hands... and then there were the subsequent great video sales that probably un-flopped it a year later. CHICKEN LITTLE barely made the grade. Dindal hadn't directed since, the closest he got was with DreamWorks' unmade ME AND MY SHADOW. Dindal would be replaced by Alessandro Carloni on that film, and then DreamWorks nerfed it altogether. (Though they did briefly revive it as SHADOWS, courting Edgar Wright to direct at one point!)

So, yeah, I'm rooting for Garfield! For Dindal! I'll be seeing the movie in about a week or so.

As for the other side of this weekend's box office coin... FURIOSA:

I want to point out... A lot of people are seemingly confused as to why FURIOSA isn't breaking out... Thus making for a pretty small Memorial Day box office long-weekend...

When were the MAD MAX movies ever these massive blockbusters here in America?

The first film was barely released theatrically in North America, lost in the midst of its domestic distributor - American International Pictures - being acquired. The film's breakout success in its home country, Australia, was really what lead to sequels. MAD MAX 2, released as THE ROAD WARRIOR stateside, did fairly well but wasn't among 1982's biggest movies. MAD MAX: BEYOND THUNDERDOME, thought to be the most Hollywoodized of the movies, also did okay enough. Again, nowhere near the edge of the Top 10. I reckon for most people my age, FURY ROAD was their first MAD MAX movie. It certainly was mine, and then I went and blind-bought the other three movies thereafter.

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD opened with a fair $45m back in 2015, and went on to gross $380m worldwide against a $150-180m budget. Barely 2 1/2x that price tag if it was $150m, so I guess it just made it. Enough for more movies to be made at least, as Tom Hardy was signed on to reprise his role as Max Rockatansky for at least a few more films. A fifth movie proper is in development, apparently... But, yeah... $380m. Good gross, but not... Let's see, STAR WARS or MCU-sized. Not DUNE: PART TWO nor RISE/DAWN/WAR OF THE PLANET OF THE APES, for fellow sci-fi comparisons...

And nor did it need to be... There's more a gnarly, punk-like edge to these movies anyways.

Which is why I did not expect FURIOSA to make that much more than FURY ROAD, especially since it's about a younger Furiosa and it's a prequel. Having not seen the movie due to circumstances (I'm gonna aim for it this coming Friday), I've also heard that it's way different from FURY ROAD, which was more or less a two-hour car chase that barely lets up. This apparently, at 2 1/2 hours long, is more in line with the classic MAD MAX movies. There's some vehicular action that really delivers, but the bulk of it is a lot of atmosphere and long stretches that really souses us into the wasteland world of the series.

One of my pals actually compared it to director George Miller's previous film, THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF LONGING... And... Uh, if it's really anything like that film, it's going to be interesting to see how it holds up in the coming weeks. THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF LONGING is a curious film that I didn't particularly enjoy much, but it's very cool that a $60m movie that appears to be Miller - in his 70s - pondering and reflecting on the art of storytelling and the big mosaic of it all even exists. Now to see that applied to a massive budget action movie in an iconic sci-fi franchise? Even cooler. That's what you call taking a BIG SWING. If MAD MAX 5 happening hinges on this movie's success, I really hope it defies the odds.

So THE GARFIELD MOVIE doesn't have a massive bar to clear, and it's already over $50m worldwide thanks to opening in a few territories beforehand. Should make back the budget easily. Only needs to clear $150m to do that. Legs would really have to be bad in order for it to not do so. FURIOSA is the one I'm concerned about, as that cost $168m to make. If that closes the door on future Wasteland movies, then that will suck big time. Fingers crossed for both.

[zephyrprince8]

I finally got to see the 2013 documentary, Jodorwsky’s Dune, about the unmade film. It was informative, but I still have a lot of questions about how all of the production materials made their way to the Star Wars team.

[muttonchopsalley]

More of Jean “Moebius” Giraud’s storyboard pages from the unproduced Alejandro Jodorowsky adaptation of Dune.

[rabbit-surfboard]

Dune gets better the more I revisit it. I first watched the documentary about Jodorowsky's unmade adaptation, then saw Dennis' version when it came out and thought it was dope. Then I read the Frank Herbert books, and very recently saw Dennis' movie again and holy shit -- such an easy watch despite how long that thang is and my usual preference to avoid rewatching shit. I'm terrifically excited to reread the first four books sometime.

Lately I've been trying to imagine from an author's perspective how they might lay out story development for a naive audience who must be introduced to just enough information to make a story development hit correctly. Often when watching a modern TV show where they throw down a steadily metered minimum of 1 plot development and 1 cliffhanger per episode to keep me hooked, I wonder how different it must feel in the writers room. They know everything about the world, how difficult must it be to imagine approaching the story linearly and produce a delightful surprise for the uninitiated?

Dune does not work like a Netflix series. It seems that the more you know about it the more you get to appreciate it's finer points. There's something to be said for attempting to relate to prescient characters by reading along with much more knowledge than a regular person could possibly have.

the more I read Dune Messiah the more I love it. First time through felt a little slow but I think it's a testament to the fact that you can read these books in whatever order you like. The Alia x Hayt hits so much harder once you have the full series under your belt. Same with Paul's transition into total prescience, I think it's the first time in the series you're introduced to the concept but I don't think it's as impactful until you've read God Emperor. I'm obsessed with the idea of destiny and reluctant godhood. Idk I just love this series and there's always a new little treat for me every time I re-read.

[sang-d-or]

I don’t usually post my cosplays on here but i’m so proud of my Feyd-Rautha i just had to share!!! I absolutely fell in love with Mœbius’ design for the Na-Baron Harkonnen after discovering Jodorowsky’s Dune. I’m so happy with how my cosplay turned out and maybe i’ll post some more pictures from the photoshoot soon!

[spaceintruderdetector]

Dan O'Bannon on Jodorowsky's Dune

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

Will You Hold Me?

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a blurb or something similar abt hugging Paul Atreides (as best friends (gn reader))? I feel like he'd give great hugs and I'd never pass on a Paul hug lol. Thank you in advance!

Pairing: Paul Atreides x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Description: Paul gives you a (much-needed) hug

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation

A/N: Sorry for the mini-writing drought. I’ve been trying to figure out my life and have been super uninspired lately b/c #depression, but here’s my attempt to both fill this request and convince myself that I don’t feel like dying on the inside :/

Only three hours had passed since you last thought about throwing yourself off one of the Arrakeen Residence’s balconies. It was a long way down the brutalist palace reminiscent of the Egyptian pyramids that were once on Terra. In truth, you didn’t really have much time to lend to these violent thoughts, whether it was the pitching yourself off the balcony or otherwise. You’d thought about the sand worms and the Fremen, and you doubted you’d stand a chance against either. Sometimes you even wished the Harkonnens, in all their entitlement and vitriol, would return to “their Dune” and off you once and for all. 

As these thoughts crossed your mind, hot tears streamed down from your bloodshot eyes. You sat in your chambers, staring across to the single window — if you even wanted to call it that. You sniffle before covering your face with your hands and sobbing silently. You didn’t want to feel like this. Miserable, helpless, misunderstood. 

You’d pray to the stars to fix you, take your pain away, rebalance your body, mind, and spirit. But despite your distress and sincerity in those requests, it seemed that your prayers had fallen on deaf ears. Maybe this was just the cruelty of the Universe. 

Or maybe you were just weak and unwilling to go out and actually do something about your pain. Pull yourself out of this mental hellhole. But it hurt so badly. Your soul ached. You longed for home — for Caladan, for cool breezes and rushing ocean waves, for the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, all of the things that helped you come back to reason when everything started to feel like it was spinning out of control.  Now all you had were the recordings of those sounds from a Caladan filmbook Paul had given to you ages ago. A far cry from the real thing, though, because you were constantly fast-forwarding, rewinding, pausing, and then playing the recording to avoid the commentary on the planet. It was too much work, to be honest. So, you usually found yourself sat on your unmade bed, frustrated and livid that the rest of your life was to be spent on a giant sand dune with half of the universe counting the days to House Atreides’ extinction. 

Perhaps no one would even notice if you did go through with the business on the balcony. Everyone was too busy running around, whether it was attending council meetings, going on aerial excursions around the desert, or even so desperately trying to find a moment for themselves, no one seemed to notice that you hadn’t been present for breakfast nor for your fight training. 

Except, he had. Paul never spent a day without the thought of you crossing his mind at least once. You two hadn’t had the chance to spend much time together since the move to Arrakis just five days ago. He was busy being a prince and you had your own commitments to attend to. Your spiraling thoughts halt as you hear the doors to your chambers slide open. You quickly wipe your tears and opt to lay down again. You pull a pillow up to your face in an attempt to conceal it. 

“Missed you at breakfast…and at fight training…” Paul says, trailing off. You smile sadly at him before turning your attention back to the pillow. He’s still in his fight training clothes, the linen top unbuttoned revealing his pale, lean chest still glistening with sweat. 

He comes to sit on the side of your bed. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks. You frown, keeping your head turned away from him as your face begins getting hot again, tears threatening to fall. 

“Not really…” you croak out. Paul studies you for a moment before pulling off his boots and scooting up next to you. 

“Please, can I see you?” he asks, combing his hand through your hair. His lips are centimeters from your ear. “Please?” he whispers, dragging out the word. You turn over, shoving aside the pillow you’d been using as a shield. 

“Will you hold me?” you mumble, failing to meet Paul’s sympathetic gaze. 

“Come here,” he says as he pulls you tightly into his chest. He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle closer to him. Then the floodgates open. You grip onto the thin linen of his top as you sob, the sounds echoing out into your chambers. Paul just holds onto you, rubbing your back. He’s not exactly sure what to do, but he recalls how his mother would comfort him when he got upset. So, he did his best to do what Lady Jessica did until your cries began to die down. Your forehead brushes against his damp chest. 

“Ew,” you grimace. 

“What?” he asks. 

“You’re sweaty,” you say, pushing away from him slightly and sitting up. 

“That’s never stopped you before,” he declares, trying to tease a smile out of you. Paul sits up and leans against your stone headboard. He directs his attention to the filmbook that’s still playing, its projection slightly grainy on the opposite wall. The filmbook was currently detailing Caladan’s agricultural industry. Something about pundi rice fields. You nudge your head back into his shoulder, giving him permission to embrace you again. 

“I can’t do it, Paul” you admit. 

“Do what?” he probes. 

“Everything. It’s just too much. My brain is like…overloaded with all of this. I feel paralyzed. I don’t want to do anything. But I feel hopeless if I don’t, if I just keep laying here…Everything is just really hard for me to do right now…I feel so alone.” 

Paul doesn’t say anything for a while. He rubs your shoulder, pondering his next words. 

“You don’t have to do anything right now, okay? This move has been hard…and things will probably stay challenging for a while, but we’ll get over this hump.” He looks down at you as you wrap your arm around his abdomen. “And you’re not alone — you’ve got me and mother and father…Duncan…even Gurney!” 

A knock sounds at the door before a young Fremen girl appears from around the corner. 

“Sorry, Samira, could you come back a bit later?” you ask, sniffling. 

“Of course. My apologies, jalalatukah” Samira says before quickly bowing and leaving the chamber. 

You turn back toward Paul, closing your eyes and resting in his embrace. 

“Let’s get you out of this room. Take a walk with me?” Paul suggests. You huff out a breath, considering his offer for a moment. 

“Okay” you say. 

“Yeah?” Paul asks as he pulls his arm from around you and moves off the bed. As you swing your legs over the side, Paul slides your shoes over to you before pulling on his boots. You mirror him. “Ready?” Paul asks, holding out his hands. You take hold of the boy’s hands as he helps you up. 

*jalalatukah - your majesty (my embellishment of the Arabic)

[impercre]

Links Under the Cut

I've included pdfs/ links to the miniseries and various websites/youtubers who are good resources for exploring different concepts in the Dune universe or the difference between adaptations.

Dune / Dune Audio Book

Dune Messiah

Children of Dune

God Emperor of Dune

Heretics of Dune

Dune: Chapterhouse

Adaptions/ Misc.

The Dune Encyclopedia - A funky collection of various headcanons written as an in-universe document. A lot of the character entries are NOT GREAT but the world-building aspects are solid enough.

The Dune Wiki - The Wiki is fantastic in that it usually offers seperate tabs for the Original Series/ The Dune Encyclopedia/Expanded Universe

Dune 1984 Spicediver Edit - Basically an extended cut of the 84 film that is closer to the book and is much better paced/edited than the official expanded cut of the 84 film

Dune Miniseries

Children of Dune - This is the only version I can currently find and unfortunately uses French subtitles for some scenes

DuneInfo- This is the go to resource for any information you might want about the various adaptions both made and unmade

A Beginner's Guide to Dune - Youtube video breaking down the basics of the worldbuilding in Dune.

Quinn's Ideas - If you want a video going in-depth on the various concepts/ factions of Dune, Quinn is 100% your guy

Dune Book vs. Movie- A friend of mine linked me to this recently and while I'm not familiar with the youtuber it is a great break down of the differences between the book and new films especially

Dreamer of Dune- The Biography of Frank Herbert as written by Brian Herbert. It explains everything.

If anyone ever needs the Dune PDFs. The Miniseries/1984 film/ Spicediver's expanded cut of the 84. I got links.

[downthetubes]

Rare Alejandro Jodorowsky “Dune” storyboard book set to go under the hammer

Rare Alejandro Jodorowsky “Dune” storyboard book set to go under the hammer

Auction house Christie’s recently announced the upcoming sale of one of the very few known copies of the Dune storyboard for Alejandro Jodorowsky’s unmade adaptation of the pioneering science-fiction novel by Frank Herbert. Coming up for sale in a “Livres rares et Manuscrits” (“Rare Books and Manuscripts” sale on 22nd November 2021, this rare document features a cover by acclaimed SF artist…

[nicklloydnow]

“Trying to explain what makes Blood Meridian a masterpiece is like trying to describe Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 using only semaphore – you’re really best just finding out for yourself. That might not be the easiest task given how daunting Blood Meridian can appear (especially for those unfamiliar with McCarthy’s refined, almost biblical, prose that shuns most punctuation), but those willing to persevere will find a powerful tale comparable to the epics of Shakespeare and Melville. The novel tells the story of an unnamed runaway (referred to only as "the kid") who joins a group of scalp hunters operating on the United States-Mexico border during the 1840s. While they initially do this for just reasons – protecting the local communities from pillaging Apache tribes – this soon gives way to bloodthirsty and fatalistic behavior that leaves a trail of bodies in their wake, heroes and villains alike. McCarthy utilizes their nihilistic crusade to explore a range of topics including religion, warfare, and the nature of man – all told via some of the most poetic writing ever committed to the page.

(…)

But despite these issues, Hollywood has shown an almost psychotic interest in adapting Blood Meridian. And despite these issues, it’s easy to see why. The high esteem that both Blood Meridian and Cormac McCarthy are held in would inevitably make it one of the most talked about films of the year, and were a director able to find that illusive sweet spot that translated its horrific beauty into the language of cinema, there’s no reason why it couldn’t be one of the most acclaimed too. The phenomenal success of No Country for Old Men – the winner of four Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director, and now revered as one of the 21st century’s greatest films – will only have spurred on this insatiable desire. Unmade screenplays are reportedly so common in L.A. they could wallpaper every house in Pasadena, and their continued existence appears to have turned Blood Meridian into a sinister rite of passage for any aspiring screenwriter. We’ll never know for certain how many times Hollywood has tried (and failed) to make Blood Meridian, but a few have since come to light.

(…)

Indeed, it was this exact problem that killed most potential adaptations, such as a version spearheaded by Ridley Scott in the mid-2000s. Alongside his Kingdom of Heaven scribe William Monahan, Scott – never a director who had much time for compromise – intended to go all in with the novel’s violence, resulting in a gore-heavy rendition that sounds more akin to a horror film than a revisionist western. “It would have been rated double-X”, he later described it as – a statement that wouldn’t have brought confidence to already nervy investors. Scott did satisfy his McCarthy itch with 2013’s The Counselor (his only original screenplay to also get the feature-film treatment), a wordy and often bewildering watch that feels closer to an audiobook than a truly cinematic experience. Its mixed reception had McCarthy scholars breathing a sigh of relief that he was never able to make Blood Meridian, but considering how Kingdom of Heaven also mixed historical fact and speculative fiction to craft a nuanced character study amidst the backdrop of harrowing warfare, perhaps he would have been the ideal choice.

(…)

But then again, what does that term even mean? If “unfilmable” novels like Dune, Life of Pi, and Cloud Atlas can leap between mediums, why couldn’t the same also be done with Blood Meridian? McCarthy himself has rejected the idea that his opus is destined to remain on the page forever, admitting that while it would be “very difficult to do”, there’s no reason why someone “with a bountiful imagination and a lot of balls” couldn’t get it done. The simple truth is that Blood Meridian isn’t unfilmable, it’s just that everything that makes it a masterwork are so firmly entrenched in the written form that it would require substantial alternations to work in a new format, and it would take a brave filmmaker to start tinkering with the foundations of a certified classic. It’s inevitable that someone, someday, will make this dream a reality, at which point the internet can move on from debating if Blood Meridian is unfilmable to whether Blood Meridian should only ever be a novel. Until that day, we’ll have to tide ourselves in wild speculations. It’s not like we’re short on options.”