#FACE 1 BILLION STREAMS

[lokisasylum]

HELL YES!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

KING JIMIN! ⚔️👑🔥

Team Jimin, GREAT WORK!

[aricastmblr]

"FACE" de JIMIN de BTS ha superado 1 BILLÓN de streams en Spotify!

Establece el récord como el PRIMER Y ÚNICO K-solista más rápido en lograrlo en la historia de Spotify

Jimin rompiendo el récord del álbum más rápido en llegar a 1B de reproducciones haciéndolo en tan solo 153 días

[seoul-bros]

Congratulations Jimin!

Such great news. What is our target number to achieve by 13/10?

Twitter Link

Twitter Link

Post Date: 25/08/2023 updated 27/08/2023

[gotyouniverse]

CONGRATULATIONS TO PARK JIMIN FOR RECEIVING HIS PLAQUE FOR HIS NUMBER 1 BILLBOARD HOT 100 HIT 'LIKE CRAZY' AND BEING THE FASTEST K-SOLOIST TO REACH 1 BILLION STREAMS FOR HIS ALBUM 'FACE'

AN ABSOLUTE LEGEND

CONGRATULATIONS JIMIN

FACE 1 BILLION STREAMS

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #27

July 12-19 2024

President Biden announced the cancellation of $1.2 billion dollars worth of student loan debt. This will cancel the debt of 35,000 public service workers, such as teachers, nurses, and firefighters. This brings the total number of people who've had their student debt relived under the Biden Administration to 4.8 million or one out of every ten people with student loan debt, for a total of $168.5 billion in debt forgiven. This came after the Supreme Court threw out an earlier more wide ranging student debt relief plan forcing the administration to undertake a slower more piecemeal process for forgiving debt. President Biden announced a new plan in the spring that will hopefully be finalized by fall that will forgive an additional 30 million people's student loan debt.

President Biden announced actions to lower housing coasts, make more housing available and called on Congress to prevent rent hikes. President Biden's plan calls for landlords who raise the rent by more than 5% a year to face losing major important tax befits, the average rent has gone up by 21% since 2021. The President has also instructed the federal government, the largest land owner in the country, to examine how unused property can be used for housing. The Bureau of Land Management plans on building 15,000 affordable housing units on public land in southern Nevada, the USPS is examining 8,500 unused properties across America to be repurposed for housing, HHS is finalizing a new rule to make it easier to use federal property to house the homeless, and the Administration is calling on state, local, and tribal governments to use their own unused property for housing, which could create approximately 1.9 million units nationwide.

The Department of Transportation announced $5 billion to replace or restore major bridges across the country. The money will go to 13 significant bridges in 16 states. Some bridges are suffering from years of neglect others are nearly 100 years old and no longer fit for modern demands. Some of the projects include the I-5 bridge over the Columbia River which connects Portland Oregon to Vancouver Washington, replacing the Sagamore Bridge which connects Cape Cod to the mainland built in 1933, replacing the I- 83 South Bridge in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Cape Fear Memorial Bridge Replacement Project in Wilmington, North Carolina, among others.

President Biden signed an Executive Order aimed at boosting Latino college attendance. The order established the White House Initiative on Advancing Educational Equity, Excellence, and Economic Opportunity through Hispanic-Serving Institutions. Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs) are defined as colleges with 25% or above Hispanic/Latino enrollment, currently 55% of Hispanic college students are enrolled in an HSI. The initiative seeks to stream line the relationship between the federal government and HSIs to allow them to more easily take advantage of federal programs and expand their reach to better serve students and boost Hispanic enrollment nationwide.

HUD announced $325 million in grants for housing and community development in 7 cities. the cities in Tennessee, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Nevada, New York and New Jersey, have collectively pledged to develop over 6,500 new mixed-income units, including the one-for-one replacement of 2,677 severely distressed public housing units. The 7 collectively will invest $2.65 billion in additional resources within the Choice Neighborhood area – so that every $1 in HUD funds will generate $8.65 in additional resources.

President Biden took extensive new actions on immigration. On June 18th The President announced a new policy that would allow the foreign born spouses and step children of American citizens who don't have legal status to apply for it without having to leave the country, this would effect about half a million spouses and 50,000 children. This week Biden announced that people can start applying on August 19, 2024. Also in June President Biden announced an easing of Visa rules that will allow Dreamers, Americans brought to the country as children without legal status, to finally get work visas to give them legal status and a path way to citizenship. This week the Biden Administration announced a new rule to expand the federal TRIO program to cover Dreamers. TRIO is a program that aims to support low income students and those who would be the first in their families to go to college transition from high school to college, the change would support 50,000 more students each year. The Administration also plans to double the number of free immigration lawyers available to those going through immigration court.

The EPA announced $160 million in grants to support Clean U.S. Manufacturing of Steel and Other Construction Materials. The EPA estimates that the manufacturing of construction materials, such as concrete, asphalt, steel, and glass, accounts for 15% of the  annual global greenhouse gas emissions. The EPA is supporting 38 projects aimed at measuring and combatting the environmental impact of construction materials.

The US announced $203 million in humanitarian assistance for the people of Sudan. Sudan's out of control civil war has caused the largest refugee crisis in the world with 11 million Sudanese having fled their homes in the face of violence. The war is also causing the gravest food crisis in the world, with a record setting 25 million people facing acute food insecurity, and fears that nearly a million will face famine in the next months. This aid brings the total aid the US has given Sudan since September 2023 to $1.6 billion, making America the single largest donor to Sudan.

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau put forward a new rule that would better regulate popular paycheck advance products. 2/3rds of workers are payed every two weeks or once a month and since 2020 the number of short term loans that allow employees to receive their paycheck days before it’s scheduled to hit their account has grown by 90%. the CFPB says that many of these programs are decided with employers not employees and millions of Americans are paying fees they didn't know about before signing up. The new rule would require lenders to tell costumers up front about any and all fees and charges, as well as cracking down on deceptive "tipping" options.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess. 

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god. 

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know. 

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you? 

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could. 

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face. 

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body. 

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something. 

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much. 

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight? 

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem. 

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent. 

— What is it? 

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall. 

— What’s wrong, princess? 

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you. 

— Do you wish to run with my horse? 

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now. 

— I will run. 

— Of course you will. 

— Sir, should we prepare the archers? 

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them. 

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere. 

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours. 

God, hive him strength. 

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction. 

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help. 

— Made others set the camp for tonight. 

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand. 

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand. 

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire. 

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness. 

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this. 

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady. 

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity. 

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married. 

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on. 

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress. 

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now. 

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced. 

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine. 

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness. 

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky. 

— I’m not snarky. 

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public. 

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it. 

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed. 

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent. 

— You’re lucky, little princess. 

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already. 

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive. 

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume.. 

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago. 

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But? 

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel. 

And he loves every second of it. 

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess. 

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself. 

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you. 

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap. 

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now. 

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better. 

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely. 

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again. 

— I will…you won’t catch me. 

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me. 

— I’m not y…your wife. 

— Yet. 

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have 

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early. 

— I’m not…I’m not moving. 

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms. 

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection. 

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey. 

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say. 

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms. 

[alwaysforevermaybenever]

YANDERE EX-HUSBAND: INTRODUCTION

× cw: general yandere stuff; malaysian/cantonese slang; reader is implied ethnically chinese (read her dialogue in Steven He’s accent); reader is also female; obsessive behavior; bribery; stalking; being held at gunpoint(?); threats; felony; implied murder; controlling behavior

× note: it's basically renheng/uncle roger and auntie helen

⌗ your beloved ex-husband? Hah! He’s no better than a plate of burnt egg fried rice with no spring onions or meat from a kopitiam(coffee shop). In fact, you’d pick studying at art school over looking at his face for a single second, even if it means your mother disowning you.

⌗ Unfortunately, even after getting divorced, you still live together. That’s because the house is bought under both your names, so you can’t just kick him out. And it’s not like you’ll have enough money to buy a new house after selling your current one, because half the money goes to him. Tsk. What a nuisance…

⌗ Yala, he’s handsome and rich, but he’s such a jerk and a micromanager! He always insists on telling you how to cook your signature noodles. (Mind you, you grew up learning how to make that. Your ma made sure of that.) He didn’t go to culinary school, so who is he to tell you that, huh?

⌗ You can’t stand being married to such a pompous man like him, so you locked yourself in your room on the wedding night. No way you’re gonna do anything with that eyesore (metaphor). That’s why five months later, after countless arguments and fights, you divorced him.

“Haiya, he CEO of a company, his net worth 1 billion. But he cannot even cook rice or defrost chicken for me when I ask him to? And you ask why I divorce him ah?” *slaps table*

⌗ However, your ex-husband doesn’t really care about your rants or complaints. You’re talking for hours on end about him, so that’s already a win in his book. He’s always on your mind!

⌗ He fully expected you to divorce him. That’s why he insisted on buying the house under both your names - you can’t get rid of him that way. All long as he’s under the same roof as you are, he couldn’t be happier. He eats the food you cook (leftovers because you’re used to cooking for all your relatives during family dinner), rolls on your perfectly made bed while you work your accountant job (in one of his other companies that you don’t know he’s the CEO of) and plays the picture perfect husband when your mom drops by (your 28501864817 relatives marching right behind her) with mooncakes and tangyuan (because she’ll beat you up with the tea set heirloom passed down forty-five generations when she discovers that you’re divorced with no sons!!).

⌗ How did you even get married to him if you hate him that much? Well, long story short, your mother and his mother are best friends, and their husbands are brothers, which made daily reunions even longer because they had so much to talk about. When they noticed that he showed interest in you as a child (one time), they decided that you two would get married when you were of age. While you were resentful that you were essentially forced into an arranged marriage, you pushed through it for the wedding ang pao (red packets) and tax benefits (at least until you divorced, which was when you started working and putting that science stream (not art!) degree to use). 

⌗ You hate your ex-husband, but you do admit that he’s a good wallet. Besides, it’s not like he’s obsessive or possessive or a micromanager who stalks you when you go out or a genuinely bad person who commits felonies because he found out you were searching for potential bachelors because after all you’re in your prime! Right? And besides, who wouldn’t want to date and eventually marry you? But don’t worry your pretty little head because he’ll take care of them since he’s the only one you’ll ever need. Yeah, you’re divorced but who’s to say you can’t get remarried? Not the law! 

⌗ And if he has to drag you screaming and kicking and cursing him (and his ancestors) to the ancestral plane and make you stand by the altar, that’s what his strength is for! And if he has to pay hush money to all the people present that’s ok, cuz he’s not rich for nothing and the relatives aren’t greedy bloodsucking money nabbers (me) just for show.

“Once again, until death do us part, my love… You at the back - put down that phone. I’ll pretend you weren’t trying to call the police, for the sake of this auspicious occasion. What do you mean my wife is being held at gunpoint and trying to punch me no she isn’t.”

[lokisasylum]

STREAM ON YOUR BOATS 🫡🚢⛵️🛶🚤

[roo-bastmoon]

Our Jimin...

We all know the challenges that came with the FACE album. And yet, today, Like Crazy has become the first Korean solo song and the fastest Korean song in history to surpass 1 billion streams on Spotify.

Congratulations, Jimin!

[whokilledjared]

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

[reasonsforhope]

"After a year of the statewide fee on single-use plastic bags, the Eco-Cycle recycling center in Boulder estimates between 1.5 billion and 1.8 billion fewer plastic bags were used in Colorado in 2023.

The center anticipates a greater reduction in use in 2024 as businesses phase out the use of single-use plastic bags in most cases.

Eco-Cycle calculated its estimate by taking the number of plastic bags each American uses per year on average — 365, according to National Geographic— and factoring Colorado’s population, along with reduction estimates from several local communities.

Randy Moorman, Eco-Cycle’s director of policy and community campaigns, said the reduction is crucial because single-use plastic bags are the number one contaminant found in Colorado’s rivers and streams. They also are not able to be fully recycled and instead have to be “down-cycled” into other products...

Businesses in Colorado have until June to use whatever single-use plastic bags they already have while still collecting the 10-cent fee. The collected fees are divided between the business and the local government to fund green initiatives. Denver, for example, has collected $5 million for its special revenue fund since its fee was implemented in 2021.

Becky Goyton, an education coordinator with Denver’s Office of Climate Action, Sustainability, and Resiliency, said the money has funded many environmental initiatives, including the purchase of reusable bags for residents and sustainable products for small businesses. Unlike most budgetary matters, Goyton celebrates the decline in revenue to the fund.

“Having some revenue to do some great projects and reinvest in the community is wonderful, but it’s not our goal,” Goyton said. “Our goal is to see that fee go down and that revenue go down because that means more people are bringing their own bag and less disposable bags are being put out into the community.”

In addition to single-use plastic bags, Colorado businesses are also required to phase out Styrofoam containers this year. Like with plastic bags, businesses are permitted to use already-purchased Styrofoam products but cannot obtain any more."

-via ABC Denver7, January 11, 2024

--

And further progress just kicked in at the beginning of this year:

"[On January 1, 2024], the next phase of Colorado's plastic bag ban takes effect. The next step for HB21-1162 is that stores will no longer have plastic bags at all. They will only offer recyclable paper bags which will still be 10 cents each. Stores that already have stock of plastic bags already, can use those up before making the transition...

Businesses that don't comply can face up to $500 in fines for a second violation and up to $1,000 in fines for a third and subsequent violation."

-via ABC Denver 7, December 25, 2023

[fuckyeahisawthat]

While this article does not answer my #1 burning question of how you dismount from a speeding sandworm, there are a lot of great pull quotes, including:

On Paul and Chani:

"...I wanted to make sure the audience will understand that Paul becomes a dark figure, that his choices are exactly what Chani was afraid of. He becomes the colonizers the Fremen were fighting against.... He betrayed her in many ways. But the big thing for Chani is that it’s not about love. It’s about the fact that he becomes the figure that will keep the Fremen in their mental jail. A leader that is not there to free the Fremen, but to control them."

On the duel between Paul and Feyd-Rautha:

"...we approached their fight at the end like some kind of symbolic union. The way their bodies get close to one another, there’s something animalistic, an intimacy, I was looking for."

On the infamous popcorn bucket:

"I’m at peace with the bucket."

Full article text under the cut, including Fremen sex lives, murder toddler adaptation choices, and the teeny tiniest of teasers for Dune Messiah:

Denis Villeneuve Answers All Your Questions About ‘Dune: Part Two’

He explains why Lady Jessica’s face is so heavily tattooed, whether Paul considers himself the Messiah and what he thinks of those Javier Bardem memes.

By Amy Nicholson

April 17, 2024

This weekend, “Dune: Part Two” muscles back into IMAX theaters with the verve of Timothée Chalamet rodeo-riding a giant sandworm. After nearly two months in theaters, the film is the current champion of this year’s box office race, with a total take of more than $680 million. (It’s also available to rent or buy on some streaming platforms.) The film’s success is thanks in part to audiences that have returned over and over to get lost in the rocky warrens and spiritual reckonings of the planet Arrakis. One admirer reports he’s seen the movie 25 times to date.

That there’s so much to explore in “Dune: Part Two” is a credit to its writer and director, Denis Villeneuve, who boldly reshaped Frank Herbert’s complex and cerebral 1965 novel “Dune.” Villeneuve split the book and its themes into two films: “Dune: Part One,” released in 2021, focused on the political struggles between two families, the Atreides and the Harkonnens. “Part Two” delves into religious fervor as the two surviving Atreides, young Paul (Chalamet) and his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), ingratiate themselves with Arrakis’s Indigenous desert tribe, the Fremen, by allowing the locals to believe that Paul is their Messiah — a prophecy that, if it comes to pass, will mean the slaughter of billions of victims across the galaxy.

Villeneuve has yearned to tell this story since he was a teenager in Quebec. His devotion is palpable; every frame feels steeped in monkish contemplation. Yet, he’s also a visual dramatist who doesn’t want audiences to get tripped up by too much exposition. His scripts give only passing mention to core concepts like spice, a psychedelic dust that powers everything from space travel to Paul’s clairvoyant hallucinations.

Though Villeneuve doesn’t want to overexplain, he was willing to provide some answers in an interview via video where every question about the film — even silly questions! — was on the table.

Does Chalamet’s Paul Atreides actually believe he’s the Messiah? What’s the meaning of Jessica’s face tattoos? Villeneuve also got into the erotic lives of his desert dwellers and the extra narrative weight he threw behind Paul’s Fremen love interest, Chani, played by Zendaya. As Villeneuve said with a grin, “Chani is my secret weapon.”

Here are edited excerpts from our conversation.

The last time we spoke, you weren’t sure what to make of the sandworm-shaped “Dune” popcorn bucket. It went on to be so popular that it sold out in cities before opening day and is being resold online for around $175. What do you think of it now?

I thought that the bucket was an insane marketing idea. I laughed so much. It is so out there. I don’t know who designed it, but they’re a bit of a genius. I’m at peace with the bucket.

In this film, Javier Bardem’s character Stilgar is reduced to a guileless follower of Paul Atreides, who Stilgar believes is the new Messiah. His conversion is tragic. But also, Bardem’s awe-face has become a funny meme, and the second time I saw the movie, people laughed at almost every line he spoke. Did that reaction surprise you?

No. I am very happy when you say that he is a tragic figure. For me, he is the most tragic figure of all. The idea to bring humor to Stilgar was to make him lovable, to feel the humanity in that character. He’s not an austere figure, he has a big heart. But his beliefs, his faith, his reactions bring humor — and that is something I love about making a sci-fi film, because I can talk about that without offending people because it’s a fake religion. I designed all the prayers myself, so I know it’s fake. I find Stilgar very funny. And when people laugh, I’m happy because that was the intention.

Someone makes a dig that Stilgar has found a savior again. This is not even his first time?

All his life he has been raised with that dream. So I suggest that every time a guy comes from outside with a lot of charisma, he hopes he’s found him. Like in the Bible, we have tons of prophets before Jesus came.

The arc of “Dune: Part Two” is Paul accepting that he must become the Messiah — and get billions of people killed. Does he truly believe that he is the Messiah? Or does he just decide to let the Fremen believe that he is?

I don’t think he believes that he is the Messiah. I think he feels the burden of the heritage that the Bene Gesserit [the mystical sisterhood that Jessica belongs to] have laid among the Fremen, and he sees the potential to use that religious power to survive.

Paul is warned that no man can survive drinking the spiritual water of life. But as that’s part of the lore of a planet seeded with manipulative propaganda by his own mother, I have to ask: Have other men actually been drinking the water and dying? Have they been scared off from trying? Is the warning just a setup for a magic trick?

There are people that have tried it in the past and died. In Frank Herbert’s world, femininity is a power. I think Herbert was fascinated by motherhood, by the power of creation. I love this idea that the power is held by women. It’s something that was ahead of his time when he wrote it and I tried to put the focus on it.

You say so much with Jessica’s costuming. In the first film, her look is immaculate and baroque. This film begins with her in rags, but she finds another path to being dressed and treated like royalty. And she gets a lot of tattoos on her face. Why did she get so many more face tattoos than the outgoing reverend mother?

She’s trying to play on the symbolism that was put in the prophecy. She’s supposed to be the mother of the Messiah, so I wanted to bring the idea that she was like the pope of the reverend mothers on Arrakis. There’s some kind of madness in writing elements of the prophecies on her face. Frankly, I think when you drink the worm poison, it affects your sanity — and the same with Paul. I like the idea that we feel she’s going too far.

Jessica is already pregnant when the first movie ends, and she’s still pregnant at the end of this film. Which means you had to condense this massive story into less than nine months because her body is a time clock.

The idea was to compress the book so that Paul will feel the pressure to get the Fremens’ trust, to start gearing up — but not to succeed, not to have the time to create a real war. Time is against him.

Because in the book, this takes years. Long enough for Jessica to give birth to a very unnerving daughter, Alia. We glimpse Alia as an adult — she’s played by Anya Taylor-Joy — but you skipped over seeing her murder people as a toddler. Was it hard to decide no “murder toddler”?

I think pregnant women look tremendously powerful. To use that power was very exciting. And usually when you see a pregnant woman onscreen, she’s always giving birth. To avoid that moment, to stay in the state of being pregnant, I thought was very Frank Herbert-like. I was going away from the killer toddler, but I thought that was more fresh and original. Honestly, it’s one of the things that I’m proudest of in the adaptation.

Speaking of female power, let’s talk about Chani.

Chani is my secret weapon. Frank Herbert was sad to realize that people saw the book as a celebration of Paul Atreides. He wanted to do a cautionary tale against messianic figures, a warning against blending religion and politics. I wrote the second movie trying to be more faithful to Frank Herbert’s intentions than to the book. In the book, Chani is just a follower. I came up with the idea of her being reluctant. She gives us the critical distance and perspective on Paul’s journey. I wanted to make sure the audience will understand that Paul becomes a dark figure, that his choices are exactly what Chani was afraid of. He becomes the colonizers the Fremen were fighting against. And then the movie becomes the cautionary tale Frank Herbert was wishing for.

Paul makes a choice at the end that will go on to kill billions of people. That’s so large and theoretical that it’s hard to grasp. But you structure your climax so that in that moment of betrayal, he’s also betraying the love of his life — a betrayal we understand.

He betrayed her in many ways. But the big thing for Chani is that it’s not about love. It’s about the fact that he becomes the figure that will keep the Fremen in their mental jail. A leader that is not there to free the Fremen, but to control them. That’s the tragedy of all tragedies. Like the Michael Corleone of sci-fi, he becomes what he wanted to avoid. And he will try to find a way to save his soul in the third part.

But “Dune Messiah,” the book your third film is based on, picks up 12 years later with a reunited Paul and Chani. How far did you feel you could push her anger? Because at some point, she’s going to have to forgive him.

That anger is tremendous. I don’t want to reveal what I’m going to do with the third movie. I know exactly what to do. I’m writing it right now. But there’s a lot of firepower there and I’m very excited about that decision.

In the spirit of no dumb questions, Chani says that Paul sand-walks like a drunk lizard. Which means Arrakis has booze?

Actually, there is spice beer. In the book, there are Fremen parties, even some orgies involving spice. I didn’t bring that into the movies because it’s PG-13.

Body fluids have significance to the Fremen. Spitting is the giving of water, a sign of respect. But tears and vomit are a waste. So what is kissing?

As long as you don’t lose your humidity, you can kiss. It’s an exchange of fluids — an act of love, when you think about it. Fremens love to kiss.

What about the, um, other romantic fluids?

You cannot have sex outside, for sure. But they are very sexual. I suspect that all sexual intercourse happens in environments that are protected from losing moisture. When they are in their sietches [or caves] underground, those are sealed. You don’t need to wear stillsuits inside them. We can deduce from that there is no problem to have sex in a sietch.

By the way, who decided that Fremen was pronounced Freh-men and not Free-men?

All the pronunciations, I took them from recordings of Frank Herbert’s voice. Frank Herbert used “Freh-men,” which I love. It makes it less on-the-nose.

You kept two major characters out of the first movie and only introduced them now: the princess Irulan, played by Florence Pugh, and the Baron Harkonnen’s nephew Feyd-Rautha, played by Austin Butler. The princess is the first voice in the books, the first face onscreen in David Lynch’s “Dune” [1984]. What made you sure holding them back was the right move, despite three years of fans asking, “Hey, where are they?”

When people ask me what was the biggest challenge in making those movies, it’s writing them. In order to make this adaptation, we have to make big, bold decisions. One was that the first movie should be seen from Paul’s perspective. I wasn’t able to do that entirely because I had to go to the Harkonnens’ side to introduce them so that the story will be clear, but I tried to find an elegant simplicity in the story structure. And I wanted, frankly, to keep some firepower for the second movie.

Why is Feyd-Rautha’s gladiator scene in black and white? And what are the splats in the sky above the dome?

Frank Herbert explores the impact of ecosystems on cultures, on humans. How it influences the way we evolve — our biology, culture, technology, mythology, religion. The psychology of a tribe is linked with their environment. If you want to know things about the Fremen, you observe the desert. I wanted to have the same approach to the Harkonnens. They killed nature. It’s a plastic planet. One thing left was sunlight, but instead of a sun that reveals color, it kills colors. When you are outside, it’s all black and white. It gives us ideas about how these people perceive reality, politics, violence in a binary world — it brings the idea of fascism. It also gave me the opportunity to bring images that remind us in our memories of World War II and the Nazi regime. So it’s an idea that I had as I was writing. Then I had the idea to have strange fireworks in the sky that will look like Rorschach drawings. It’s a nightmarish celebration. The perception of a dome is not accurate. It’s just that the fireworks reach a certain altitude and then they explode. But it’s true that it looks like a liquid that falls from the sky.

Forgive me if I am not being fair to sadistic, psychopathic Feyd-Rautha. But all of the gladiators were supposed to be drugged for his happy birthday massacre. The one who secretly isn’t puts up a worthy battle. So I assumed that Feyd-Rautha isn’t that great of a fighter. But at the end, he’s the only warrior who is Paul’s equal?

It’s a show. You see that the Harkonnens are very cruel and their society is very paranoiac. His opponent is known in the books as one of the great fighters, Lieutenant Lanville. I tried to show that Feyd is excited to have a real opponent. He has a code of honor, he respects the effort, and he has fun with it. That’s the idea I tried to convey — he’s not a coward.

Audiences might remember that the Bene Gesserit wanted Jessica’s child to be a girl, that Timothée Chalamet’s Paul Atreides was supposed to be female. And they specifically bred Feyd-Rautha to be a male. Were they hoping these youngsters would mate?

Yeah. They are trying to increase the potential of humanity by breeding the best specimen of each tribe or family. A baby between Feyd-Rautha and an Atreides daughter would have brought peace between Harkonnens and the Atreides, and created an über being.

Will you read any of the internet fan fiction spawned by the idea of Timothée and Austin hooking up?

[Laughs] But you know, we approached their fight at the end like some kind of symbolic union. The way their bodies get close to one another, there’s something animalistic, an intimacy, I was looking for.

I rewatched the first film again recently. It opens with a quote in another language: “Dreams are messages from the deep.” I love that quote. It feels like how a film resonates, too. But it wasn’t until I had subtitles on at home that I realized who said it. Of all the important characters and cultures to establish, you gave that major moment — the very beginning of your franchise — to an anonymous Sardaukar from the murderous imperial army that we’re cheering to see get killed. Why?

I love your question. The Sardaukar are the dark side of the Fremen. I thought it would be interesting to have a tiny bit of insight that they are not just tremendous warriors, but they have spirituality, philosophical thought. They have substance. Also, their sound was designed by Hans Zimmer. I absolutely loved how it feels like it’s coming from the deep, from the ancient world. Frank Herbert said beginnings are very delicate times. By starting with a Sardaukar priest, I was indicating to the fans that I was taking absolute freedom with this adaptation, that I was hijacking the book.

But you also deeply love the book. So when you make these bold changes, do you feel like asking Frank Herbert for forgiveness?

Yes. There’s so many darlings that you kill. An adaptation is an act of violence.

[bangtanlovejikook]

"MUSE" by #JIMIN has officially surpassed 1 BILLION total streams on Spotify!!

It's the FIRST and ONLY album by a Korean/Kpop Act to hit this incredible milestone in 2024!!

It also makes #JIMIN the FIRST and ONLY Korean/Kpop Soloist in HISTORY to have MULTIPLE ALBUMS surpassing 1 BILLION STREAMS on Spotify EACH with "MUSE" joining "FACE" in the 1B+ club!!

CONGRATULATIONS JIMIN

MUSE 1 BILLION STREAMS

Now, Army, let's push for Suga!!

D_Day [Gap to 1B = 3,678,935]

D_2 [Gap to 1B = 4,029,617]

📍 We are close,very close to hit Billion for both albums!! Since another new tracking day has started, can we push both albums equally to +2M by streaming everyone 🥢

Don't forget to stream for Namseok!!

🚨🚨 RPWP and HOTS are a 2024 release, yet the whole albums are gaining only 970k and 675k streams daily. This is ALARMING. Please stream the albums from Top to Bottom. Increase their streams!!!🚨🚨

[mysticstronomy]

IS THE MOON RUSTING??

Blog#309

Wednesday, June 28th, 2023

Welcome back,

While our Moon is airless, research indicates the presence of hematite, a form of rust that normally requires oxygen and water. That has scientists puzzled.

Mars has long been known for its rust. Iron on its surface, combined with water and oxygen from the ancient past, give the Red Planet its hue. But scientists were recently surprised to find evidence that our airless Moon has rust on it as well.

A new paper in Science Advances reviews data from the Indian Space Research Organization's Chandrayaan-1 orbiter, which discovered water ice and mapped out a variety of minerals while surveying the Moon's surface in 2008. Lead author Shuai Li of the University of Hawaii has studied that water extensively in data from Chandrayaan-1's Moon Mineralogy Mapper instrument, or M3, which was built by NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California. Water interacts with rock to produce a diversity of minerals, and M3 detected spectra - or light reflected off surfaces - that revealed the Moon's poles had a very different composition than the rest of it.

Intrigued, Li homed in on these polar spectra. While the Moon's surface is littered with iron-rich rocks, he nevertheless was surprised to find a close match with the spectral signature of hematite. The mineral is a form of iron oxide, or rust, produced when iron is exposed to oxygen and water. But the Moon isn't supposed to have oxygen or liquid water, so how can it be rusting?

The mystery starts with the solar wind, a stream of charged particles that flows out from the Sun, bombarding Earth and the Moon with hydrogen.

Hydrogen makes it harder for hematite to form. It's what is known as a reducer, meaning it adds electrons to the materials it interacts with. That's the opposite of what is needed to make hematite: For iron to rust, it requires an oxidizer, which removes electrons. And while the Earth has a magnetic field shielding it from this hydrogen, the Moon does not.

"It's very puzzling," Li said. "The Moon is a terrible environment for hematite to form in." So he turned to JPL scientists Abigail Fraeman and Vivian Sun to help poke at M3's data and confirm his discovery of hematite.

"At first, I totally didn't believe it. It shouldn't exist based on the conditions present on the Moon," Fraeman said. "But since we discovered water on the Moon, people have been speculating that there could be a greater variety of minerals than we realize if that water had reacted with rocks."

After taking a close look, Fraeman and Sun became convinced M3's data does indeed indicate the presence of hematite at the lunar poles. "In the end, the spectra were convincingly hematite-bearing, and there needed to be an explanation for why it's on the Moon," Sun said.

Their paper offers a three-pronged model to explain how rust might form in such an environment. For starters, while the Moon lacks an atmosphere, it is in fact home to trace amounts of oxygen. The source of that oxygen: our planet.

Earth's magnetic field trails behind the planet like a windsock. In 2007, Japan's Kaguya orbiter discovered that oxygen from Earth's upper atmosphere can hitch a ride on this trailing magnetotail, as it's officially known, traveling the 239,000 miles (385,00 kilometers) to the Moon.

That discovery fits with data from M3, which found more hematite on the Moon's Earth-facing near side than on its far side. "This suggested that Earth's oxygen could be driving the formation of hematite," Li said. The Moon has been inching away from Earth for billions of years, so it's also possible that more oxygen hopped across this rift when the two were closer in the ancient past.

Then there's the matter of all that hydrogen being delivered by the solar wind. As a reducer, hydrogen should prevent oxidation from occurring.

But Earth's magnetotail has a mediating effect. Besides ferrying oxygen to the Moon from our home planet, it also blocks over 99% of the solar wind during certain periods of the Moon's orbit (specifically, whenever it's in the full Moon phase). That opens occasional windows during the lunar cycle when rust can form.

Originally published on NASA.gov

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, July 1st, 2023)

"WHAT IS TIME DISTORTION??"

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

So, here's the thing. Back in the day, RM would get snarky when reporters asked him about recording an album in English. Did we all just forget that? There are so many examples where BTS demonstrated their determination to stay true to their artistic integrity and Korean roots. Once upon a time, that was a point of pride for Army.

And here's Jimin. Has an album that is a critical and commercial success--one that is almost entirely in Korean, created and produced in Korea by Koreans. Gets a Billboard #1 with a Korean song by a Korean artist. And now his 1 Billion Spotify streams. Not the first Korean of course, nor the first Asian, but, from what I've read, the first to achieve this milestone in his native language.

This was always the BTS dream, so why isn't Army celebrating? This isn't a solo victory, it's a BTS victory!

Jimin breaking this particular glass ceiling doesn't take anything away from the immensely talented Jungkook, the other equally gifted BTS members, or the K-Pop industry as a whole. Unless they have their knickers in a twist because it's little Mochi paving the way and showing them how it can be done.

I'm going to be charitable here and interpret this sudden campaign to get all BTS members into the Billion Club as an acknowledgement of Jimin's amazing achievement.

Also, #DiversityWins.

The fandom dynamic and landscape has gone through some really big changes. Same as the group and the members. It's just a fact, I'm not agreeing or pointing judgement at it.

Face was a milestone and an achievement, particularly as it was a fully Korean album that was released to all markets targeted by K-Pop now, not just South Korea. Indeed, it wasn't pushed for the American market as much as what came later for Jungkook, but I guess that wasn't their plan.

I also think it was a critical success particularly because it was a cohesive album with an identity. It's not about the language or having only Korean producers. It's about having a vision that makes sense and works for the artist. Jimin decided to start his solo career with a personal album which showed all these facets of himself, not just as a performer, but also as a songwriter and producer. He proved all he had to prove from the beginning.

My guess is that this second album will be a bit more traditional, as in it will show more of Jimin as an idol and it could lean more toward commercial pop. As K-Pop usually is. It's not a bad thing. I don't think he will repeat the Face formula and he will challenge himself.

I said this before when Jungkook released Golden. It's not the language or the foreign producers. The problem is when the music is completely disconnected from the artist. I always have Key or Taemin in mind because they work like that, but they have their own identity. I expect Jimin to follow a similar path and surprise us in the near future.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 10

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) TW for references to past abuse.

On AO3

(behold the chapter that took me most of august, and billion x billion thanks to @wheneverfeasible for listening to my endless wailings about it--eeeeep! You are the bestest!!!!)

…

Chapter 10: my bad

When Eddie opened the doors, a young woman around his age barged in. She wore a white apron with some dubious stains and brandished that rolling pin.

“Where is he? Oh my God.” 

She dropped the rolling pin on the couch, along with Steve’s pack, which she'd had slung over her shoulder. She shook him gently. 

“Steve! Steve?” Then, to Eddie, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”

“I’ve no idea how he got that way. I swear.” Eddie paced around manically, wringing his hands. “He crashed in, totally wrecked, and handcuffed himself to the pillar.”

Nah. I wouldn’t believe me either.

Aaaand, I deserve to lose a couple of fangs to that rolling pin?

“Where’s the key, fuckwit?” she snarled.

 “I… uh… not a clue.”

He grabbed up Steve’s pack, tipped it out and began rifling through the contents. It struck Eddie that this was probably all Steve’s belongings. His watch. A clean shirt and underwear, his skin-tight ripped jeans. Two inhalers and some blister-pack tablets.  A crumpled envelope with a couple of dog-eared photographs slipping out.

Steve was in the top one, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, smirking beneath a pair of shades. He’d gotten his arm around a blonde woman holding a cocktail. She had to be his mom. His beaming father barbecued hotdogs by a pool, which was holiday-brochure levels of azure blue.

Eddie ripped his attention away. “I can’t see any keys.”

“Yeah. They’re in his pocket.” The newcomer fiddled to undo the handcuffs. “Didn’t you think to look? Jesus, you two dinguses were born for each other. I’m Robin, by the way.” Steve remained hugged around the pillar. “Some help here, shit-for-brains?” 

Together, Robin and Eddie got one each of his arms over their shoulders and hauled him to his feet. They dragged him between them toward the bed. 

He wasn’t exactly unconscious. He definitely wasn’t in the room either. His head drooped forward, and his flickering lashes cast shadows down his streaming makeup. Eddie’s heart panged, while his stomach twisted in knots.

Eddie was crazy about Steve. 

Seriously, crazy.

And he still knew literally nothing about him. 

Possibly my bad.

They guided Steve onto the bed. Robin propped extra pillows under him, then fetched a bottle of Evian from the minibar. Eddie hovered at her shoulder, chewed his fingernails, and wondered if he should call a doctor something.

“Steve?” She jostled him again. “Steve! Please say something. Please? You’re freaking me out now.”

His half-lidded eyes widened. “Robin? Eddie? Wha–”

“Steve! You scared the shit outta me!”

Steve looked… lost and totally bewildered. He took a sip of the water she menaced him with, vaguely dabbing the trickle on his chin.

“What happened?” asked Robin. “You know—ditching breakfast? Your little cognac party for one? Whatever unspeakable yuck I interrupted with Jon Bon Jovi here?”

Cognac party? That explained the booze on Steve’s breath. Eddie let the Bon Jovi comparison slip. Hadn’t she noticed Jon cut his hair for the ‘Keep the Faith’ album? 

Only true metalheads left at the big hair party, ma’am.

Robin came at Steve with a napkin to mop his face. 

“If you don’t quit fussing,” he hissed, “I’m gonna slap you silly.”

“Okay. Being a bitch. Back on form. When did you last eat properly?”

He threw his arm across his face. “Jesus, Robin, I don’t know."

“I might’ve got some pringles around here somewhere.” Eddie, desperate to be useful, scanned his half-packed mess. “Definitely a jelly donut.”

“Oh, real nutritious.” Robin jumped up and stomped toward the door, muttering to Eddie, “We need to talk.”

In the main lounge area, Eddie took one look at the fake marble pillar, shuddered, and snapped from his daze: “Look, I get it. You care about Steve. You and me both, sister. I would never—”

“You are NOT forgiven, numb-nuts.” She stabbed a finger at him. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt ONLY because he didn’t flip out when he saw you, so listen up. He’s sick. He’s not eaten today. I’m gonna get him a bowl of oatmeal and banana. Can I trust you with him, or will I come back to find him tangling himself in a sex swing?”

Ouch.

Once she’d gone, Eddie hurried back to the bed. Steve emerged from beneath his arm. His face was waxy, his vest and hair sweat-soaked and sticking to him.

He still looked lost. Haunted, even. And Eddie felt nearly as lost, stopping in his tracks a foot from the bed.

“Thank Christ she’s gone,” said Steve, then, “Eddie, you didn’t stare this much when I’d gotten your jizz all over my face.”

Those knots in Eddie’s guts wound tighter. “I’m really fucking sorry about last night. I’m sorry about smoking and never reading the runes, and…  about  a ton of shit, honestly.”

“Don’t be,” sighed Steve. “I’m sorrier. And about today. Christ, I’ve made a total fool of myself.”

Eddie shook his head, dared shuffle a little closer. “You’re fine, honey.”

“Yeah, we both know that’s a pile of steaming horseshit. I… I…” 

Steve’s face crumpled beneath his hand. Eddie’s right mind finally screamed, What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve literally shared this bed with him for weeks.

He bounced onto the huge mattress, muttered, “C’mere, you.” He felt stupidly grateful when Steve rolled into his opening arms. Eddie hugged him close, planted soft kisses on his hair. “I gotcha. It’s okay.” 

“I d-don’t remember.” Steve curled into Eddie’s side and his knee crept up into Eddie’s lap. “Oh God, Oh God. I’m losing my mind. I can’t even figure how I got here.”

Eddie found himself grinding his teeth. He didn’t know exactly how Steve got from that preppy, peppy kid in the poolside photograph to today—blundering into this penthouse then chaining himself to that pillar, locked in some twisted memory. 

No. Eddie didn’t know exactly. But he was starting to get the picture.

If I ever find the sick son-of-a-bitch who did THAT to you…

Right now, though, it was all Eddie could do to silence his own demons and simply hold Steve. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Stevie.” He planted a kiss on Steve’s temple. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

…

Steve was desperately trying to piece together what the hell just happened. 

Being here, with Eddie holding him like this, helped. Eddie’s heartbeat thrumming through him, and knowing he’d apologized to Eddie, helped too. He still felt beyond wretched. It proved an effort to slide his hand to Eddie’s shoulder, grip that baggy t-shirt, and cling.

After his encounter with Kline, he’d gone to empty ashtrays. Usual routine. Then he’d needed some water, because he’d inhaled a ton of ash, so he’d used the tap at one of the hotel bars.

Oh yeah, the brandy.

The cognac.

The dead posh sort that his dad used to drink. Steve had slugged it back, puked again, and then his memories got even hazier. He was pretty sure, however, that he’d done stuff that meant he was totally out of a job, and… No, no, no, no, no.

He’d pushed those sessions with Godchester into the darkest corners of his mind. As he’d stumbled around the hotel today, they’d kept flashing back. The feelings of helplessness, breathlessness, the swish of the cane, begging for more so it might be over sooner, and then… and then…

“Sssssh, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Eddie rocked him back and forth. Steve breathed deeply of Eddie, who, to be fair, didn’t reek of tobacco as bad as usual. He focussed on the pressure of Eddie’s lean body against his, on Eddie’s arms around him. That dark veil slammed down once more.

“I don’t remember,” he repeated, in a voice so small that he was surprised Eddie heard, let alone replied.

“You know what, Stevie?” Eddie exhaled, long and unsteadily, and somehow, reassuringly. “I have nooooo memory of the day I checked into his hotel. That shit went down with my flop record. I woke up here next morning, totally stuck.”

Steve chuckled, though it wasn’t even ballpark funny. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I mean, I smoked a ton of weed. Not saying it’s identical to what’s happened to you, but… I dunno. I figured knowing that might help?”

Steve peeped up, his chin digging into Eddie’s breast. Eddie still looked sheepish as fuck. He smoothed Steve’s hair. Steve dipped his gaze again.

“Okay. This morning, I saw somebody from my past. From the worst time in my life, soon after my parents died. It made me remember stuff I usually forget, and I guess I got lost in that, and… and…”

Nope. No way could he say any of that out loud. It was all too near and too raw, and yet…

He twisted his fingers in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep clinging like this long enough to tough this out, laugh it off. Or maybe he could do something far more radical. Maybe he could suck up being such a loser and ask Eddie for help.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie was saying. “I’m so very fucking sorry.”

Steve squeezed his eyes tight, squeezed Eddie even tighter, and… Jesus, he was beyond done with today. Snuggling like this was weird and new, also totally natural and totally right. God, he loved being with Eddie… like this… Even his juddering pulse had settled, fallen into pace with Eddie’s beat. With his head tucked between Eddie’s chin and shoulder, Steve began to slip.

“Uh, Stevie?” Eddie brushed his knuckles down Steve’s cheek, wrenching him awake again. “Hate to do this to ya. I, um, have to clear out of here in, uuuuh… about twenty-two minutes.”

Steve gawked up at him. The words sunk in. Then their meaning. He lifted his head and scanned the slightly spinning room. It was half packed, in a very chaotically Eddie fashion, crap strewn everywhere.

Oh yeah. He knew about this. Another horror he’d pushed away. He rolled off Eddie onto his elbows, groaning towards the chandelier. “Seriously?”

“Steve, listen. Right now, I only care about you and—"

“Be honest with me. Were you really gonna slope off without a word?”

“No way!” Eddie hoisted himself from the pillows and raised his palms in surrender. “I’m going because I have no choice. I’m broke, okay? I’ve spent every dime I ever earned and then some. I gotta suck up my terror of the big, bad world and skedaddle pronto. Or another night in this place is gonna cost a winter’s worth of donkey feed.”

“Donkeys?” Steve blinked at him.

Eddie swept hair from his guilt-stricken eyes. “Long story.” 

He’s broke.

You’ve probably been fired. He was your last hope of keeping you in meds, keeping a roof over your head. 

You’re dumbass levels of crazy about him.

AND HE’S BROKE. AND HE’S LEAVING.

Steve threw himself at Eddie and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Oh shit,” squeaked Eddie. “Please, I wanna keep seeing you! We’ll figure things out. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying, dipshit,” Steve got the words out between hiccuping giggles. “I’m laughing so damn hard. At you. At us. Jesus!” 

And he was. Sobbing his mirth into Eddie’s neck, till Eddie enfolded him once more and also totally cracked up.

“Okay, you win again, champ.” Eddie flopped his face to Steve’s shoulder, mirroring how Steve smothered himself in Eddie’s. “It’s insane and it’s tragic and it’s g-goddamn hilarious. We’re gonna get through, right?”

Part 11 on AO3 Part 11 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3