#Paul Oscar

[eurovision-revisited]

1997 Dublin - Number 7 - Paul Oscar - "Minn Hinsti Dans"

It's a quirk of the Eurovision random draw that was in place in 1997 that it manages to put certain songs in certain positions. For instance, Turkey always had a draw in the top half every year from 1985 to 1997. Mostly they were drawn in the first five songs. The only year this didn't happen was 1994, when they'd been relegated and didn't take part. There are enough artefacts of non-randomness to lead to the suspicion that someone was fixing things to a degree.

Another of those other quirks is the tendency of the more controversial or idiosyncratic songs to be drawn last in the running order. That happened in 1994 with Je Suis un Vrai Garçon. Here in 1997 there's Paul Oscar and four latex-clad, highly flexible women literally draped on a sofa. Paul is not only the first openly gay man to sing at Eurovision, but his staging is so sexual, so decadent, so overt, that to this day it makes you stop what you're doing to pay attention.

It's one of the first Eurovision acts where staging is an essential part of the performance. This isn't just a man standing in PVC trousers, singing into a mic. This is a man acting, dancing, moving in a choreographed way while singing. He has a cheek-mic. He has a prop. An actual stage prop that he interacts with. His dancers interact with him and also sell the message of the song. It's not a high-energy bopathon, it's a louche, lascivious, serpentine pose of a song. This performance has had so much thought and design put into it, it eclipses any other Eurovision staging to this point it time.

Somehow that white sofa is the most outlandish thing on this stage. There have been small props incorporated into acts going way back to the 1950s, but this the first time a whole act has been set around a central large prop like this by a delegation. There there are the camera angles and editing. They've been planned and programmed perfectly to fit to the track. Paul's moves are choreographed with that camera in mind.

This may all be commonplace now, but just look at the all the other songs in 1997 and notice how they nearly all start with a held establishing wide-shot of the stage, before cutting to a shot of an instrument or the singer before they start the first verse. Iceland begin with a close-up of one of the dancers panning along her body, then up to Paul's face via his fully spread crotch. The first cut is when he suddenly reveals his eyes from behind his bejewelled hands halfway through the first verse. It's perfect.

Minn Hinsti Dans (My Final Dance) is a self-penned, restrained, club track with pumping drum and bass track supporting the orchestra's contribution of legato strings and occasional harp flourish. It's a song from the final night of extravagance before The End. A night for caviar, bubble baths and blowing away everything that remains. It ends with the percussive pulse slowing as the song's heart stops. Regret is a dirty word. There is only the most unabashed and shameless pleasure until that final beat.

It didn't win, the juries were far too shocked to give it any points. Notably all bar two of the points it did get were from the five countries with 100% televoting. Sweden gave it 8 and the UK gave it 6. Paul Oscar jolted the Eurovision audience awake in so many different ways. This, this, is what we wanted. The directors of the various delegations must have been furiously taking notes. This could be entered in 2024 and do exceptionally well.

This wasn't the start of Paul's career, but it's the very solid foundation on which he's built a long CV of activism, recording, DJing and being one of the better known faces of Iceland's LGBTQ+ community. Truly one of Eurovision's pioneers.

[martin-osterdahl-official]

Month of LGBTQIA+ Eurovision contestants: Páll Óskar (18/30)

With that said, I firmly believed, and continue to believe, that regardless of your gender or your sexual orientation, the song comes first. The melody and the lyrics come first. When the energy of the song is there, it’s going to exist forever.

[alternativeulster]

dont let anyone ever tell you the doctor who tv movie (1996) sucks. this is literally the best scene in all 60 years of doctor who

[thestarlitnights]

no thoughts just minn hinsti dans by paul oscar live orchestra version esc 1997 held in dublin ireland (aside from staging but that makes the song too tbh)

[vintageurovision]

It was 1997, and the Eurovision Song Contest tried out televoting for the first time, albeit on a small scale with just five countries. This made the largest difference for a, for the time, risque and experimental act from Iceland, since Paul Oscar and his song "Minn hinsti dans" scored 16 out of their total 18 points from just three of these countries. In this episode he tells Emil about how the song grew into being and what happened to him afterwards. As the first openly gay artist in the contest it was natural for him to go on the Pride circuit all over Europe, but this actually made him end up in bankruptcy!

Eurovision Legends Podcast - Paul Oscar

[newlanecinema]

Paul Mescal having the time of his life getting yelled at by Andrew Scott…. He's so me

[the-poets-might-disagree]

like father, like son | DUNE (2021) VS DUNE PART TWO (2024)

[meep-meep-richie]

“ I found my own way to it. Maybe you'll find yours.”

[timotheecontent]

DUNE (2021) x DUNE: PART 2 (2024) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[ilikestuff69]

Kinda Spoilers for Dune Part 2. You’ve been warned.

House Atreides is ridiculous, because what do you mean everyone from that family just looks like this?

Pretty is not even the right word for these four. They looks ethereal.

[the-writer-is-always-write]

Just a little detail I thought was kinda neat, but one of the last tracks on the Part Two soundtrack is titled "Only I Will Remain" (if I'm not mistaken, it's the first track that starts playing over the credits), which obviously refers to the litany against fear and all that jazz, but it also perfectly describes where Paul is by the end of this story. Yes, he has conquered his fear of the prophecy, but he is also completely alone. Chani leaves, Irulan isn't someone he loves or trusts in any capacity, his relationship with Jessica is clearly fractured, Alia still isn't born yet, and he even says that the Fremen are all now followers rather than friends. He has no one. He's won, and yet he's lost. There's no triumph, no real victory. It just blows my mind the love that both Denis and Hans have for this story, and the way they understood the complexities and brought them to life in all the little details.

[providence-park]

"You're praying now to your grandmother. She died nine moons ago. She lost an eye. A rock smashed her face as she was crossing the Belt. She was twelve when it happened. At that time, this world had a Fremen name. Dune."

DUNE: PART TWO (2024)

Dir. Denis Villeneuve

[giacuamood]

French Communist Party Headquarter

Architect Oscar Niemeyer

[recluselecter]

Jealousy

Leto Atreides x Ex-Wife! Reader

pairings: Leto Atreides x Ex-wife! Reader summery: When y/n spends the night of Leto's inauguration party with another man, he can't help dragging her away. warnings: uses she:her pronouns, mother! reader, jealous Leto, possessive Leto, Non-canon compliant, choking, breeding, cunnilingus mention, voyeuristic if you squint REAL hard. Words: 1.7k

Y/n’s hips were guided grotesquely against a stranger's crotch, drunken babbling tumbling from his lips. The wine in her glass had been spilt and emptied long ago, the red liquid having stained her dress. She didn’t care. She kept her eyes on the new Emperor, hair perfectly styled, beard immaculately trimmed, suit crisp and void of Arrakkis’ sand. She hadn’t seen him since they lived there. After Paul gained the title of Emperor for his father, Leto disappeared, taking Paul and their daughter. This was six months ago. As his coffee eyes burned into her skin, she thought of how he’d avoided seeing her as much as possible, passing their child to her through servants. Now though, he couldn’t avoid her. And it was killing him. She looked perfect, the stain on her dress adding to the gorgeous mess that was Y/n.

Leto Atreides hated her for it.

He stormed up to her, snatching her arm and pulling her away from the stranger.

“What the fuck, Leto!” She yelled over the hustle and bustle of the inauguration party. Leto dragged her through the halls of his new palace, opened a door, and shoved her in. When Y/n observed the room around her, she realized it was a very fancy bathroom.

Y/n glared at Leto. The wine on her dress was her fourth glass, and, gauging by the way she was swaying, she was wasted. Leto looked down at her as rage rose in both of their chests.

“You need to go home,” he stated.

“Why do you care what I do?” She snapped.

“I care that my ex-wife is fucked up in a ballroom of a house that isn’t hers.” The Duke took a dangerous step toward her, his own drink spurring him on. “I care that the bitch I’m forced to call the mother of my child is grinding on random men.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed. “I only call you when it’s late, Duke Atreides. You think I give two shits about your jealousy?” Her words struck a nerve in him as she slurred them out. “I only care about you when you’re fucking my brains out.”

He snapped. Leto’s hands slammed against the counter, his body shoving hers against the extravagant sink. She gasped, legs automatically falling open around him. He loomed over her, rage seething through him. His knuckles were white from his grip on the sink, barely holding himself together. He thought the expensive porcelain would crack under his palms as he leaned closer to his ex-wife. With inches between them, he knew she’d try to kiss him. His plan was dependent on it. Like clockwork, she angled her head up, her lips grazing his before his hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her back. She huffed as he scowled at her, but it was turned into a yelp when he forced her to turn around, bending her over the sink by her neck. He tilted his head at her in the mirror where she glared at him. He didn’t break eye contact as he hiked up her skirt, baring her panties to him. The red fabric matched her dress and her now blushing cheeks.

Leto’s hands snaked around her hips, pulling her back against his clothed erection. She hummed lightly as her hips rolled against him, pulling a small groan from his throat. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear as he tore her panties. “You’re a little slut, you know that?” He leaned back again, nearly salivating at the sight of her bare before him. “No better than a cheap whore.” Her cunt was glistening and had Leto resisting the urge to kneel before her and devour her. His mouth watered for the taste of her, having laid between her legs until the hot Arrakkis sun rose in the sky many times. That was long ago, before he was Emperor. Before he divorced her. For a man who prided himself on his independence as Emperor, he knelt quite often for the woman who vexed him. 

She writhed against the sink as he let his fingertips trail lightly around her thighs, avoiding the place she actually wanted him. He pinned her legs to the porcelain, stopping all movement while he teased her. He leaned forward once more, growling in her ear. “You want this?” He let his middle finger enter her just a little, making her cry out in her desperate haze. Y/n nodded vigorously, and for once, Leto complied. He shoved one finger inside her to the knuckle, groaning at how tightly she gripped him. A curse slipped from his tongue, already weak at the knees. Leto Atreides was–and had been for years–wrapped around her finger. Should she ask him to kneel, he would kneel. He desperately hid it from her, but he knew deep inside just how far his devotion went. If she told him to take a knife to the throat, he would enthusiastically if it meant pleasing her.

Leto moved quickly, adding another right before he knew she’d be ready. After decades of bedding her, he knew her body like his own, and her squeak made him twitch in his trousers. He pumped his fingers into her pussy at a cruel pace, too fast to ignore the pleasure, but too slow to get off. She whimpered and cried under him like a pathetic little kitten, palming at his forearms to get him to stop. He bit her neck as he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt. He ripped it from his trousers and unbuttoned the damned pants. Y/n started to protest when his fingers slipped from her wet cunt, but went silent quickly when she looked in the mirror to find him indulging himself, his fingers in his mouth. As he tasted her, he slid his boxers down his hips. She watched hungrily as more of his body was revealed to her. His cock sprung free proudly, and she found herself staring. He grabbed himself, moaning when he slid his hand from the tip to the base, the way she did when she used to pleasure him. His wrist twisted just once before he slid back down to the base, teeth grit as he watched his ex-wife in the mirror. For a moment both were mesmerized by the other. The Emperor found himself admiring her skin and her eyes before he snapped out of it, anger coming back. 

She seemed to have the same epiphany as he lined himself up with her. He slid into her easily, and she tightened around him as he entered. He fell forward, holding himself up over her shaking body. He cussed as he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming himself back in. Y/n cried out under him as he set a brutal pace, one hand slipping to her hip.

“Fuck-!” She whined, pressing her face to the counter to cool it.

“Hands on the mirror, baby.” he gritted out. She obeyed, hands slamming against the mirror and providing more stability to the pair.

A knock hit the door, making Y/n jump. She began to stand up, but Leto shoved her back down by the back of her neck, boot slamming against the door to stop it from opening. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!” He snarled. His hips didn’t stop thrusting relentlessly into her as the intruder spoke through the door.

“Emperor Atreides, you must give your speech!”

Leto ignored him, speeding up. Y/n shrieked, legs shaking as he fucked her. His hand slipped to her thigh, forcing it up on the counter and allowing him deeper. He braced himself over her, moaning into her shoulder.

“Show me how much you missed me, baby.” He grunted. She whined under him, brain not working properly. “Do I need to tell you what you already know?” he demanded breathlessly. Y/n gasped as Leto’s hand buried in her hair, yanking her up against his body with his arm around her throat. The mirror loomed in front of her. Leto studied her tear-stained face, her mascara running as he refused to stop moving. She watched his cock disappear into her weeping pussy, her face bright red. “Look how good you take it.” He groaned, watching as his cock reappeared each time, shining with her arousal. Lewd noises filled the bathroom as he ravaged her, as he claimed her.“You’re mine, remember?” he spoke, his voice low and rough in her ear. “This body is mine. This cunt is mine.” Y/n nodded, hands clinging to his arm. “Other men don’t get the privilege of what is mine.” She gasped as his arm tightened around her throat, just barely choking her. 

“Yours.” She moaned out. Leto fought the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. He groaned as his stomach tensed, his orgasm coming fast. Y/n clung to him as she came, crying out his name.

“That’s it, darling. Come on, let it out.” He grunted, arm moving from her throat to her waist to hold her up when her legs gave out. Her eyes rolled back, brain numb from the wine and his cock. Seeing her stupid made him snap, moaning as he came deep inside her. She whimpered in his arms, shaking. He rode out his high, groaning into her neck until he came down. He let her down slowly, letting her brace herself on the sink before pulling himself out of her.

He didn’t bother tucking himself away, not until he watched his cum seep from her pussy. As it did, he ran his fingers through it, scooping it back into her and shoving his fingers as deep as they’d go. She cried out, oversensitive. Leto hushed her, running his hand over her back and kissing her cheek.

“I know, my love,” He hummed, still fingering his cum back inside her. “But you know the rules.” Y/n nodded, gaining some feeling back in her legs as he slid his fingers from her. He licked each one individually, savoring the taste of the pair mixed together. His tongue slid over his own skin meticulously as he used his other hand to tuck himself away, refastening his belt.

Leto looked for Y/n’s panties, but only found the scrap of what he’d ruined. Shit. They were going to have to do a raincheck on the inauguration speech. Especially with her current state. Leto gently lifted her into his arms after pulling her dress over her. His past lover automatically snuggled into his neck, arms around him. Emperor Atreides smiled as he planned their escape.

[spookyscaryspidermans]

[iwasborn-hungry]