If you were a Pokemon fan on fanfiction.net circa 2013, you probably remember the absurd amount of assassin AUs that existed for the Pokemon anime. Those were wild, huh?

This fic is one part a writing exercise and one part just some pretentious indulgence. I’ll be attempting to emulate the style of these older fics - the batshit plotting, the minimal prose, and the wacky author's notes.

It’s a bit experimental, so this might not be for everyone! But as they said in the olden days: DON’T LIEK DON’T READ > <

Three girls. One mission. Their destiny is clear - to assassinate their targets and complete their mission. But what happens when their hearts get in the way? Will love win? Pokeshipping, Contestshipping, Ikarishipping.

poly!maknae line x fem!reader

genre: SMUT. Like SO MUCH of it. They’re all fuckin’. Porn with very little plot tbh

word count: 8.3k

summary: having gone years since your last real relationship and subsequent satisfying fuck, you decide its finally time to put yourself back out there at the club. For some reason, this club is full of sexy men-who all happen to be taken. As soon as you’re about to give up on men for the rest of your life, your night takes an extremely lucky turn. 

warnings: swearing, dom!maknae line x sub!reader, reader experiences some self-doubt, boys are poly and all in love with each other, use of pet names, name calling but y/n is into it, specific smut warnings: unprotected sex (simply don’t do this irl please), oral (male and female receiving), some mxm, face fucking, spit, spanking, praise kink and degradation kink at the same time, maknae line are fucking hung, dacryphilia (but very slight), double penetration, Taehyung loves readers tits, bi!maknae line, cum eating

an: I don’t proofread so if there are typos that’s why. As always, this is mature content so if you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable then please do not go beyond the cut! 

“You should really go catch a dick. Maybe that would make you less of a bitch.” The teenager pops her gum as she leaves, a loud complaint about ‘shitty customer service’ spilling to her friends as soon as she catches their gaze. 

As much as the girl was annoying-demanding a refund for a dress that had clearly been worn-her words did hold a small modicum of truth. How long had it been since you even had a satisfactory hookup? Your last long term relationship fizzled out about 2 years ago, and a few months after that you gave up on the dating scene altogether. There’s no denying the fact that you’re a bit lonely, and a lot horny, and that there’s an easy way to fix those problems if you’re just willing to put in some effort.

So you find yourself at a club for the first time in probably four years, the bass pulsing through the sticky wooden floors. A group of giggling girls pushes past you, forcing your body further into the writhing mass of dancing bodies. Your heels pinched your feet as you walked, but they made your legs look good, so you soldier through the pain to make it to the bar. The prices make you cringe, but you haven’t flirted with anyone in so long you need the liquid courage. You order two drinks, intent on sitting at the bar to get your bearings before going to well, catch a dick. The height of the stool makes you struggle to get into it, extremely out of practice when it comes to balancing in heels. The chair shakes under you as you try to settle into it, finally planting your ass down ungracefully. You puff out a breath, already feeling downtrodden about the night and looking forward to swallowing down the alcohol set in front of you. Just as you gather one of the glasses into your hand, a voice sounds from your side. 

“Excuse me, uhm,” you turn toward the source of the noise and thank the heavens you’re already sitting down. The man speaking to you is tall and built in all the right places, strong shoulders you want to sink your teeth into drawing your eyes upward until you reach his defined jawline, the plump of his pink lips that stretch into a boxed smile. His body is wrapped in a simple black button up with a subtle pattern, leaving only the top button undone to give you a glimpse of smooth skin and a chunky gold chain around his neck. Devastatingly handsome brown eyes peer down at you and you wonder when you got so fucking lucky. He seems to be alone, this perfect man, and he started a conversation with you?

He licks his lips, eyes darting pointedly down to your cleavage-thank god you chose this low cut dress- and then back up to meet your gaze. Sparks of excitement thrum over your body as he leans against the bar beside you. 

“Can I ask you what you’re drinking? It looks quite...delicious.” The deep timbre of his voice burns you from the inside out and you nod dumbly.

“They’re called electric lemonades. They’re definitely among the things I find...delicious.” You hope that you haven’t completely missed the mark in attempting to flirt back. In a different setting you would have cringed at the words, but tonight you were operating only on the desire to get fucked. The man cracks a smile and extends a hand your way. His fingers are long and adorned with rings, and you shudder at the thought of how they would probably feel inside of you. 

“I’m Taehyung,” he adds as you shake his hand. “And thank you for the recommendation...” he looks at you pointedly and you get the hint to provide your name. The feeling of his warm hand makes your voice waver as you answer him. 

“Thank you, Y/N” His hand ghosts up your wrist, giving it a small squeeze and holding on as he grabs the bartenders attention. Your heart is thrumming erratically; trying to decipher what the contact means, if your night was really going to be this easy. He turns back to you, fingers dancing on your delicate skin as you catch a whiff of what must be expensive cologne. Your head fills with lust, abandoning rational thoughts as words bubble out of you. 

“You, I think you’re-” Taehyung smirks at your stuttering, cocking his head to the side as you speak. “I think you’re really hot, and I- do you wanna get out of here?” You blurt, face flaming at the cliche you resorted to in the heat of the moment. Taehyung’s smirk morphs into a full blown smile, pearly white teeth on display. 

“Oh, Y/N. I would love to, but I’m actually-” His eyes slide over your head, gaze locking onto something, someone, behind him. Your heart stops, world crashing  in on you from overhead. 

“Oh god, no, I’m so sorry,” you scramble out of his grip on your wrist, all but leaping off of the stool to get away from him. His handsome face twists in what must be disgust of your desperation. 

“Y/N, wait, you don’t have to-” He speaks after you as you leave, drinks latched between your palms as you hurry away from the bar, desperate to find a new spot to sit and collect your mind. 

As busy as the club seems to be, you find a small booth table squeezed toward the service door that leads into the kitchen. It’s dark and secluded, the leather of the seat smooth and cold against the bare skin of your thighs. Heat still simmers at your core from your encounter, and you down an entire drink in a few gulps, welcoming the burn of vodka and sting of sour lemon juice to wash away the embarrassment of being rejected. Still, there were a lot of people here, and although you doubted you would find another as hot and captivating as Taehyung, you weren’t ready to give up just yet.

“I told you I don’t have time to talk right now!” You jump at the person who seemed to have materialized from thin air sitting at the other end of your booth. His hair is shaggy, pieces hanging around his eyes in a tantalizing fashion, the beginnings of a mullet type style evident by the long cut.  His short sleeved shirt shows off an arm of impressive tattoos you’re desperate to have a closer look at. 

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, hand clasping over your chest as your empty glass clinks against the full one. You don’t think he even heard you, dark eyebrows furrowed as he presses his phone against his ear. His free hand is digging harshly into his thigh, clearly annoyed at whoever was on the other end of the call. 

He glances your way at the outburst, a frown marring his handsome features. Your stomach dives as you process just how handsome this stranger is too. Did all the hot men in the area flock to this club tonight? His eyes don’t leave yours as he finishes up the call with a curt goodbye and you squirm in your seat at the attention. The desire to down your second drink burns in the back of your throat but you suppress it by scratching at the back of your hand. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” the man speaks and you catch a glimpse of his shining lip piercing. He extends a veiny, tattoo covered-hand across the table and you catch a glimpse of a delicate sliver chain around his wrist that likely costs more than five months’ worth of your rent. You extend your hand slowly to his own, hoping he can’t feel the way your hands are clamming up. 

“Jungkook.” He states simply, shaking your hand two times before dropping it gently back to the table with a deceptively adorable smile.

“Oh, hi. I’m Y/N. And it’s okay, really. I just didn’t notice you were here when I sat down...” His piercing eyes are still stuck on your form, eyebrows quirked in what now looks more like amusement. Your face flushes at his attention and you're worried that the heat will begin to melt your makeup off unintentionally. “I just, ah, hope that you’re okay. That sounded like an intense call?” 

He grunts, fiddling with the bracelet. “Been on worse calls. And at least this one brought me some good fortune.” For a moment you assume he means whatever business he must be in, but the way he licks his lips tells you a whole different story. You squirm, in utter shock at the way your evening has shaped up. “M-me?” You finally stutter, once again proving why you hadn’t been in the game for a long, long time. 

Jungkook’s eyes scan you, crinkling with a genuine smile that makes your stomach backflip. The hand you shook previously takes your own again, running a gentle line over your palm.  “Yes, you, pretty. Don’t know why you’ve secluded yourself to the furthest booth in the bar, but I won’t complain if it means I get to be the one to entertain you.” He cocks his head in a way that has no right being so attractive, and you feel your insides start to liquify. 

“Oh, thank you. I think you’re pretty too...” you deliberately dance your fingertips over his, hoping the teasing touch does a lot of talking for you. Jungkook’s eyes narrow in on the gesture, glazing over with what you believe is lust. Your heart kicks up in excitement, feeling like you had finally cracked the proverbial code. His grin widens and you feel your heart stutter at the way he suddenly grasps your hand between both of his own. “The things I would do to you, if only...” his face shifts, and you’ve done enough time in customer service to know it’s a look of disappointment. A shard of sadness strikes right through you as you wiggle out of his grip, quickly grasping your drink and downing it ungracefully in an attempt to wipe out the shame in your gut. You vaguely register Jungkook’s voice calling after you, but you power towards the dance floor, hoping to get lost in the press of sweaty bodies. 

Alcohol and embarrassment are an interesting comorbidity, and the ache to get away from the gazes of the two men you had already met persuades you to weave further into the dance floor. You don’t know the lyrics to the song that’s playing but the beat vibrates through the floor and straight into your blood, encouraging you to rock your hips. You’re vaguely aware of the heat of bodies around you as your eyes slip shut, vodka finally doing the job you wanted it to. Something loosens in your chest, a feeling not unlike taking off your bra at the end of a long day. A body presses in close behind your own, a hand skating over your side to rest just above your hip. The two of you rock along to the music and you look down to see the hand on you looks strong and capable. Your heart and pussy lurch at the same time and you dare to spin around as you rock your hips to the music. 

The man attached to the hand had to have just walked off of a runway. His eyes are rimmed in smoky eyeliner, even with his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth you can see a hint of gloss. His hand tightens on your waist, seemingly pleased with your ogling. You lean closer to his warmth, linking your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height. He takes the bait easily, slotting his head next to your neck and ghosting a hot breath over your skin. A shiver escapes you, exasperated as the music changes and the man makes a point to press his hips forward into your own. An unbidden groan slips from between your lips and you swear you hear him chuckle. 

You move just as boldly as he is, rotating your hips forward pointedly. His hands wander to tease the curve of your hip before resting firmly on your ass at the same time he nips at a spot on your neck. 

“I’m Jimin, by the way,” his voice is devastatingly husky and low right in your ear. It makes you shiver, digging your fingernails into the lean planes of his shoulders.  “Y/N,” You answer back with a push of your hips further into his own, happy that the tight jeans he had on confirmed the bulge you thought you felt against you. A shuddering breath punches out of you and Jimin notices, nudging his nose firmly against the lobe of your ear. 

“What’s a beautiful thing like you doing out here alone?” He husks. 

“Tryin’ not to be. But I keep hitting on taken men, apparently.” Jimin abandons the spot at your neck to peer down at you, pretty eyes narrowed in to your own. Your veins thrum under his attention. There’s something in his stare you can’t explain, a quality so captivating that you don’t have it in you to look away. 

“Well, what a shame for those guys. You’re such a pretty little thing, I can’t imagine turning you down...” he smirks in a way he must know makes your knees weak, hands taking another generous handful of your ass. You pitch forward into his chest, the fabric of what you assumed to be a simple tank top feels silky and cool under your cheek. Jimin’s chest rumbles with a pleased hum, lips ghosting over the sweaty hairs on your forehead. 

“Fuck, baby. Should we get out of here?” 

Your heart jumps at his words and you nod immediately, the desire to hook your legs around his waist and let him carry you out of the club replacing all of your usual concerns. You settle for clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he begins to move the two of you out of the crowd. People part easily for the two of you and before you know it you’re in a much quieter and cooler spot. Your fingers finally unlatch from his shirt and find a place on his jawline instead, hesitating for a second before pulling him down and kissing him. You feel triumphant when he falls into your rhythm, biting playfully at your bottom lip before weaving his tongue inside of your mouth. Desire is burning in your stomach and you squirm against him, desperate to get the fuck out of here and onto doing what you’ve been craving for weeks. 

“Hey, what the hell!” Someone exclaims, obviously in close proximity. You jump, narrowly avoiding biting down on Jimin’s lips as you both turn toward the noise. He keeps you close in his grasp, arms tight over your waist- possessive in a way that makes your stomach clench. 

“Oh, hey guys. This is Y/N.” Jimin grins, nodding his head in a loose gesture towards you. Your stomach knots and flips with anxiety as your drinks threaten to make a reappearance. 

“Y/N, this is Jun-”

“Jungkook and Taehyung. Yeah, I um...” you trail off, wide eyes still in disbelief of the fact that your two failed endeavors are standing before you and seemingly are friends with Jimin. 

Jimin puffs a breath that ruffles your hair. “Wait, is she- she’s the same girl you guys were talking about? And they’re the guys you mentioned earlier?” 

The two other boys nod along with you, and despite the growing feeling of horror in your gut, you can’t help but feel hot under the gaze of all three of them. Jungkook locks his gaze on Jimin’s arms wound around you and his lip curls into a smirk. He moves in closer to your body until you can feel the heat radiating off of him. The tattooed hand you were so enamored with comes to tuck a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. 

“I really wish you would have stuck around when I called after you earlier, babe. Just lucky you found your way to Jimin.” His eyes dart to your lips and your heart pounds out of your chest. Every one of your senses heightens; the feeling of Jimin’s arms around you, the scent of Jungkook’s cologne, the way your vision is swimming with desire. 

“You can kiss him if you want,” Jimin offers, splaying his hand against your waist in encouragement. Your eyes go wide and you hear a throaty laugh- Taehyung- at your stunned expression. 

“Here’s the thing, Y/N. What you didn't let Jungkook and I get to is that we’re dating. Us, and Jimin. His eyes have gone a shade darker than they were at the bar and it makes your pussy clench. “So if you’d like to have all three of us. We’d all certainly like to have you.” 

You swear you forget how to breath as his words land and process, but the way your knees physically weaken is evidence enough of how you’re feeling. 

“Yes! I uh, yes. To all of it. Y-yes. Please.” Taehyung smirks, running his sinful tongue across his lips, and before you know it you’re all moving towards the door. You feel hazy in the best way possible as Taehyung and Jimin go to collect a taxi and Jungkook hangs back with you, attacking your lips with his own. The cold press of his piercing pulls a gasp from your mouth as he devours you in a kiss even nastier than the one you shared with Jimin. You’re more than happy to get lost in it, allowing Jungkook to guide you until you’re at the taxi, squeezing into the back seat with the other two boys. Jungkook settles you on his lap, holding you steady around the waist as the car starts and gets you back to their apartment. 

It’s a race to get up to their unit, and you can barely keep track of who is touching you where as the four of you ride the elevator up several stories. 

The inside of the apartment seems nicely decorated and clean, but you only have time to glimpse the living room before the three men are pulling you into a bedroom. 

“Look so fucking sexy, baby. I thought we’d lost you after you left me at the bar like that...” Taehyung shamelessly eyes your body, hands working underneath the fabric of your dress at your thighs. 

“Can we get you out of this?” Jungkook presses in behind you, pulling your hair to the side and playing with the delicate zipper on your dress.  “Yes, please.” You nod emphatically, head tipping forward to allow Jungkook more room. The gentle skim of his fingers on your back raises goosebumps and makes your nipples perk. 

“Shit.” Taehyung swears loudly when your dress slips down, leaving you bare aside from a simple pair of underwear. His lips immediately attach to your nipple, sucking with a fervor that your ex never came close to. Jungkook’s calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and rub the soft skin at your hip before pulling them down your legs. You can feel your arousal smearing down your thighs with the movement, sure that there’s already a mess between your legs. Before you can open your mouth to defend yourself, Jimin appears, shirt already gone, to claim your lips again. 

Taehyung nips at the sensitive skin of your breast, leaving a mark that will be blooming in purple by the morning. He laves the spot with his tongue, humming against you as he helps himself to the expanse of you. Jimin lets up so you can both heave a breath. His eyes are much darker than they were on the dance floor, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver through you. He smirks, laying a possessive hand on top of Taehyung’s head as he continues to leave a path of marks on your torso. 

Your stomach hums with anticipation as you watch the two of them. The simple touch speaks volumes to the closeness of their relationship. Jimin grips your chin with his free hand, tipping your head upwards until you make eye contact. 

“You gonna be good for us?” You’re already nodding, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Good little slut, letting us do whatever we want to you. Isn't that right?” A whine rips from your throat, as Jungkook’s hands find a new home in between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your body pitches forward, forcing Taehyung to back off as you move. 

“S-sorry,” you stutter, embarrassed at the way you bent over for them so easily. The feeling washes away as your angle brings you level with Taehyung’s cock, clearly strained against the fabric of his linen pants. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, itching to have him in you. Jimin’s hands find a home on your lower back, the gentle touch grounding you to the absurdity of the situation. 

Jungkook groans at the sight of your bared pussy, his hand immediately spreading your folds. You moan in tandem, eyes rolling at the pleasure.  “Shit, she’s so fucking wet.” He’s clearly speaking to the men around you, and the idea makes your cheeks flame. The squelch of your juices fills the room as Jungkook pushes a long finger inside of you. The stretch makes you gasp and quiver, having been embarrassingly long since you had anything inside of you. Your hands flail wildly until they land conveniently on Taehyung’s waist, just inches from his waiting cock. 

“Feels good?” He asks, latching his hands around your wrists and not so subtly inching them toward his cock.  “Wanna suck your cock,” you blurt the words as soon as your hand grazes him and are immediately rewarded with triplet groans from the men. 

“Go ahead, baby.” Taehyung encourages you as you find the zipper to his pants, struggling as Jungkook slips another finger inside of you and begins opening you up in a slow burn. You puff a breath when you finally get a look at Taehyung’s cock, heavy and flushed in your hand, with a prettily colored tip and strong veins under your thumb. You rub your thumb over the head and Taehyung groans, canting his hips forward into your touch. Anxiety stirs in your stomach at his size and your lack of experience, and your eyes widen at the prospect of trying to hold yourself up while being fucked on both ends. 

“Wait, I-” the words punch out of you, loud enough that the room stills. Jimin’s hands move, encouraging you to stand back upright as three concerned faces materialize in front of you. 

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing.” You groan, shutting your eyes tight. 

“We can stop!” Jungkook insists, voice surprisingly high strung. 

“No! No, I just.” You open your eyes again, licking your dried lips. “Its been a long time since I...you know. And I just, maybe we can move to the bed so I don’t like, fall?” Your eyes dart between them, expecting them to laugh or maybe tell you to just suck it up, but instead a low coo spills from between Jimin’s plush lips. 

“Poor girl, you haven’t been fucked in so long you’re worried you won't be able to handle us? Come on.” He leads you the few steps to the bed, laying you down with your back on the cool comforter. His pretty hair falls around his face and your hands are immediately in it, relishing in the soft feeling of his locks between your fingers in a way that grounds you to the moment. All you can focus on is how handsome he is, and how lucky you are to have found yourself in this situation. His lips descend on your own as if he can read your mind, grabbing at your waist with both capable hands. The kiss tastes like alcohol and you can't get enough, welcoming his tongue inside of your mouth in a messy swap of spit. Your noses squish together, as close as humanly possible to one another, until a sharp moan throws you out of your rhythm. Jimin lets up when you stop, leaning to the side casually to let you get a glimpse of the other two boys. The moan belonged to Taehyung, who had apparently stripped down while you were kissing Jimin, who was at the mercy of Jungkook’s hand on his cock. Jungkook had rid himself of his clothing as well, and you couldn't decide where to look first. 

Taehyung’s neck was on display, the muscular column inviting you to take a bite out of him as Jungkook works his deft fingers along the impressive length of his cock, all while his other hand grinds slowly against his own. 

“Aren't they pretty?” Jimin’s sinful voice snakes into your ear and makes you shiver. His hands deftly work down his own pants and boxers, and you’re given a hint of what he has to offer. 

“P-please, Jimin, want you.” He chuckles at the words but obeys you, quickly slotting himself between your legs. With no barriers between you, you can feel the thickness of his cock against your pussy, the girth of him taunting you. 

“As much as I wanna dive into your pretty little pussy, she deserves some more attention, don’t you think?” A knowing smirk graces his features as he lowers himself to your stomach, skimming the skin of your stomach with his tongue. The trail he leaves is electric, sending shockwaves of arousal right to your core as he gets closer. Your hands find a home in his hair again, happy to scrape against his scalp with a gentle pressure as he finally settles between your legs.

A stream of air against your clit makes you whimper, hips bucking off of the bed enough that he loops an arm over your stomach to hold you down. 

“Fuck, Jimin, please!” He giggles from between your legs and you think you might die before his mouth even touches you. Taehyung and Jungkook have turned their attentions to you, and the sight of them both hard in front of you is enough to make your head spin. You close your eyes, and as soon as your head drops back onto the bed, Jimin makes his move. 

Maybe it's just because it had been so long since you had someone eat you out, but the first touch of his tongue brought you spiraling toward an orgasm. Your hands tighten on his locks and he groans as he laps at you, circling your clit with his tongue in perfect little circles. The noises that escape you don’t feel like your own as you rush embarrassingly fast towards cumming. Your vision blurs with tears, and you cum without a warning. A pleasant humming fills your mind as Jimin continues to eat you out, lapping up whatever you give him with a fervor that makes your toes curl. Wet tears roll over your cheeks and into your hairline, mixing with the sweat that was already there. 

So lost in the pleasure, you barely notice that Jimin had stopped until your hands drop form his hair, limp at your sides. His lips and nose are glistening with your juices, and the sight of him makes you gasp. 

“You came so fast, baby. Were you really that deprived?” You lean into the attention and nod, whining to him when he coos over you. “Such a pretty little pussy deserves attention, doesn't it?” You know he’s relishing in your submission, but you’re more than happy to fall into it when you feel so safe. 

The bed dips above your head, and you know that it’s Taehyung and Jungkook finally joining you. You crane your head backwards to find them both staring raptly at your figure, the heaving of your chest as you recover. 

“Think she's ready for a dick?” Jimin asks casually, as if you’re not right under him. You whimper, nodding your head emphatically. He finally casts a gaze back down at you, smiling with genuine kindness. After a second he leans away, allowing cold air to wash over your body. A small feeling of alarm washes over you as he backs up, and your eyes dart around as he reaches into the bedside table a few steps away. The silver packet shimmers in the low light, as as much as you admire their willingness to be safe, you shake your head petulantly. 

Taehyung’s face hovers over your own in an instant, eyebrows furrowed as he examines you. You know he’s looking for signs of distress; assessing if you need to stop, but all he sees is your pouty lip and teary eyes. 

“I wanna-” you gulp down a swallow. “Wanna feel you raw. Please. I'm on the pill and I’m clean.” You plead your case to the man above you, knowing well that they’re all listening. “I just wanna feel you...” you try again when no one says anything. Then, Taehyung’s face lights up in a smile that would seem evil if you didn't know any better. 

“Hear that, guys? Our pretty little baby wants us raw.” Excitement passes through your stomach when you see how this is going. 

“If that’s what she wants...” Jungkook chimes in, pretending like his cock didn't jump and throb at your words. Jimin comes back to you, hands empty, and grasps the meat of your thighs, hoisting them up so that they’re bent at the knees. One hand drops, and you assume he’s going to play with your pussy, but it instead comes down harshly on the juncture of your ass and thigh. 

“You nasty little thing. Want all three of us to cum in you? Fill up your little pussy like you’ve been waiting for?” The gravel in his voice makes your pussy clench and he sees it, chuckling darkly. 

“What do you say, guys? Wanna cum inside her?” A collective groan of agreement falls from everyone but Jimin, who is busy lining himself up with your soaking entrance. You heave a breath in anticipation as Taehyung and Jungkook move to flank your sides, eager to have their hands on you. “We’re all clean too, baby. Nothing to worry about.” Jungkook suddenly assures you, tracing a gentle line down your arm closest to him. 

At your nod, Jimin presses forward, beginning his descent into you. The stretch is already unbelievable, much more intense than your tiny vibrator. He reads your body well, taking his time to enter you as you gasp and writhe. Taehyung and Jungkook do their best to soothe you, helping to pain morph into pleasure as Jimin is finally fully inside of you. 

“Holy shit, you feel so good.” His voice is airy with pleasure and it inflates your ego just a bit. He begins a steady rhythm, splitting you open with every movement of his hips. A gasp stutters out of you when you realize just how big he is, tears brimming once again at the pure pleasure he’s giving you. It doesn't take long for him to increase his pace, fucking into you so hard that you’re pushed further onto the bed, tears spilling freely. Jungkook and Taehyung have each taken the liberty to attend to one of your nipples, pinching and licking at them as they please while Jimin wrecks you. 

“Look so pretty when you cry, baby. Sweet little crybaby letting me ruin her pussy, huh?” Jimin’s words add fuel to the fire in your stomach, and you cry even more as he hits a spot inside you that you didn't even know existed. 

“I’m getting close, Jimin-” your voice is stolen from you as Jungkook takes the opportunity to work two large fingers over your sensitive clit, heightening every sensation into a burning desire in your stomach. 

“I’m cumming!” You’re impressed the words even make it out before you feel like you’re floating, cumming around Jimin’s cock. Neither him or Jungkook let up as you scream their names, hands scrabbling for something to anchor yourself. White spots cloud your vision, and as the sensation passes you realize that your whole body is trembling. Taehyung’s planting kisses on your collarbones, murmuring things you can't quite understand yet. Jimin and Jungkook’s eyes are glued to your pussy, and you can feel it fluttering with the aftershocks. 

“Fuck, gimme a turn.” Jungkook is suddenly on the move, practically shoving Jimin- who was still hard- out of the way. Jimin doesn’t protest, his chest heaving from effort as he lays down next to you on the bed, immediately stealing your attention with a kiss. 

“You are so hot, you know that?” He says, brushing stray strands of hair out of your eyes. “Crying like that got me fucking harder, somehow. Shit.” You almost feel bad that he’s still hard, but Taehyung steals your attention quickly with a kiss of his own. Jungkook’s hands dance on your thighs, admiring the red marks that Jimin’s hand had made on you. His hand comes down on the opposite cheek that Jimin slapped earlier, relishing in the way you whine into Taehyung’s kiss. He lands one more on each side for good measure, and you moan so loudly that you have to pull away from Taehyung’s mouth. 

Jungkook takes the moment to tease his head against your slick entrance, and you nod fervently to tell him you’re more than ready for his cock. He’s somehow longer than Jimin, the impressive length a bit imposing as he begins to slip in. Despite just having orgasmed, he still stretches your entrance considerably. Taehyung groans along with you, sitting up for a better look as he wraps his hand around his cock. You can see now just how needy he is, the tip red and leaking. You reach for him absently, trying to keep your eyes on Jungkook as his face twists into pleasure. 

“Think she wants you, Taehyung.” Jimin interjects, warm hands enjoying caressing your side. Your mind is fuzzy with desire, as Taehyung finally gets your cues and props himself up. The sight of his cock makes your mouth water, and you open it to him with no hesitation. Perhaps wisely, he sneaks a look down to your pussy, where Jungkook had started a slow and satisfying rhythm inside of you. As if he knew the exact timing, Taehyung shoves his cock into your waiting mouth at the exact same time Jungkook ramps up his speed. 

Stuffed on both ends, you moan, surprised and delighted at how well the men worked together. Jungkook’s pace is punishing, relentless with the way he batters your pussy like it’s made for him. Lewd groans spills from him in a constant stream, and paired with the way he stretches you, you would be screaming for the whole building to hear if not for Taehyung’s cock. 

You focus on him as well as you can, relaxing your throat to let him fuck your face as he pleases. Your gag reflex threatens to make an appearance but you fight through it, enjoying the burn of your throat expanding for him. Taehyung is surprisingly perceptive to your needs and speeds up his thrusts just enough to make you feel wonderfully numb, spit seeping around his cock. The wetness drips down your chin onto your chest, but you are far too gone to find it embarrassing. Jungkook is lost in his pleasure, hips moving at an inhumane speed that scrambles your brain and sends shockwaves through your pussy.

“Pretty fucking girl, slobbering on my cock. Lettin’ me fuck your throat like a whore while Jungkook fucks you. Just a good little whore, doing whatever we want you to do, huh?” You nod at his words as best as you can, the mixture of sweat, tears and spit making your neck feel stick, but it’s all worth it when Taehyung produces the deepest moan you've ever heard. 

Jungkook mirrors him, letting out a string of high pitched whines. You choke around Taehyung’s cock at the movements and he lets up, allowing your wrecked voice to fill the room alongside Jungkook’s. With Taehyung out of the way Jungkook leans forward and leaves a bite on your neck, gasping as you feel his release fill you. The warmth makes your eyes roll back, satisfied to finally be filled with someone’s cum. 

Jungkook continues to buck his hips as he cums, laying his head down on your chest as Jimin captivates him in a kiss of his own. You’re entranced by their embrace, watching the way their tongues slip against each others as Jungkook rests on your chest. A happiness settles inside of you, not even bothered that you didn't come, as Jungkook lets out an airy giggle. He stands up and finds the strength to pull out of you, eyes glued to the mess he made inside of you. 

His cum rushes out and you clench to keep it in, loving the heavy feeling inside of you. Jungkook swears, pushing his sweaty hair back off his gorgeous forehead. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your pussy filled.” You’re surprised to hear Taehyung say, as he rounds the bed. They fall into their natural rhythm again as Jungkook finds his place, cuddled into Jimin’s side as if they’re watching a show. Taehyung’s eyes glint with something you can’t explain as he works a hand over his cock. 

He sees your questioning gaze and smirks. “Had to stop fucking your mouth cause I only wanna cum inside of you.” His hands find your hips, massaging the flesh there with reverence. “Flip over.” His sweet playful tone is gone, replaced by a hard dominance that churns your stomach. It takes a second to get your muscles to work, but soon you’re on your knees and elbows, head buried in the soft comforter. Taehyung groans, clearly enjoying the change in scenery as he gropes your ass. His fingers split open your pussy, watching Jungkook’s cum seep out of it. 

He takes a swipe across your pussy with his tongue, sending a moan stuttering out of you. “Tastes so good, but I can't wait to be inside of it.” 

“Please fuck me, Taehyung. I need you so bad.” You whine. The desire to have another load of cum inside of you overtakes any decorum as you shuffle your hips back against him, hoping it will make him act faster. 

“You greedy little girl. Already been fucked twice and you can't get enough?” He teases but you can hear the hitch in his voice, the way the heavy head of his cock traces against your exposed folds. He takes extra time to run the head of his cock over your engorged clit, extra sensitive since you didn't cum with Jungkook. Without warning his cock is sliding into you, pushing through the wetness of Jungkook’s come and your arousal. 

By far the thickest of the three, Taehyung’s cock punches the air out of you with the new angle. Your manicured nails grip the comforter in anticipation, and before you know it Taehyung is pounding into you. You feel like you will never catch your breath again with the way he’s moving inside of you, deconstructing your nervous system piece by piece. You’re vaguely aware of Jimin and Jungkook next to you and you turn your head in curiosity. 

Jungkook, despite his tiredness, has his lips wrapped around Jimin’s cock, eyes closed in pleasure as he bobs his head. The sight sends a ripple of pleasure straight to your core, tightening around Taehyung so much that he slaps your ass in appreciation. Jimin’s eyelids hang low but open, dangerous eyes boring right into your own as if he could read your mind. The hand that isn’t propping him up is resting gently on Jungkook’s head, and even with the momentum from Taehyung’s thrusts making your vision blurry, you can tell that Jimin’s face is the picture of sinful pleasure. 

Taehyung’s fingers seek out your clit and your instantly clench around him, your walls spasming as you fall into sensory bliss, all but drooling into the fabric below you. 

“Love this greedy little pussy, baby. So lucky we met her-” a hitch of his breath accompanied by his hips stuttering. “Come on, cum for me so I can fill you up.” His fingers somehow move faster, strumming your clit in a way that makes your toes clench and your stomach unravel. You cum with a force you didn’t know possible, gushing around Taehyung’s cock in a sticky mess. He thrusts only a few more times before spilling inside of you, slapping your ass again for good measure.  Your ears ring, happy with the numbness of your world. You can tell there are several hands on you, but who they belong to is a mystery. Taehyung’s cock leaves you and you whine, immediately missing the weight of him inside you. His cum spills out behind him and you feel like you could cry as the fullness slips away from you. You try your best to voice it as your body collapses onto the bed, but you can’t tell if they can even hear you let alone understand you. 

The edges of your vision return, fingers and toes coming back to life. You finally make out the hands on your head to be Jungkook’s, who is laying down next to you, staring at you as if you were made of stars. He’s speaking lowly and you smile when you finally make sense of what he’s saying.

“Good girl, now there you are. Hey.” The soft tone he uses makes you feel at ease. “Can you tell me what you were just trying to say?” His eyebrows furrow cutely and you try so hard to focus on his question and not the way you want to kiss him so badly. It takes your mouth a few moments to catch up to your brain, and you finally wade through the happy haze of your orgasm. 

“I said that I-” you wince at how wrecked your voice is. “I don’ want all the cum to slip out of me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your admission, perhaps expecting you to have much more PG thing to say. He recovers quickly, allowing a sexy smirk to break through. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook says, and for a second you’re still confused, until the man he calls upon is taking his place. His makeup still looks impeccable, and this close up you can see the details in his irises. He says nothing, and you aren’t sure exactly what he heard, so you just start again. 

“I want to-”

“Have all the cum stuffed back into you?” His words shock you despite how lewd the entire night had been. “Are you sure you’re gonna be alright? That last orgasm really took it out of you, sweetheart.” 

Your heart jumps at his consideration, but there’s still a fire burning deep in your stomach that you know he could be the one to put out. You turn your head just enough to see that his cock is still hard, leaking precum against his toned stomach.

“Yes, I’m sure. Please. Please. I promise I’ll be good. Wanna make you cum. Wanna have you all in me.” Jimin’s eyes darken immediately, and his strong hands maneuver your pliant body back onto your back. A surge of confidence runs through you at the animalistic desire on his face. 

“Gonna get you all filled up, baby. Our perfect little cum dump. Lettin’ us all take our turns with you.” He spreads your legs, examining your puffy pussy lips and the remnants of cum that leak from you. He gathers up what he can with his fingers and shoves it back into you. You shudder at the intrusion, beyond sensitive to his touches. 

“”M not gonna last long, baby. I’m so fucking hard.” He whines, palming himself as he gets to where he needs to be, settled between your legs snugly.  “S okay, just want your cum.” You assure him sweetly, feeling the weight of the night as well. You weren't even sure you had it in you to cum again, but you knew you wouldn't end the night satisfied without having them all spill inside of you. 

Jimin wastes no time after your reassurance, and his cock slides right in as if you were made for him. The lubrication makes for an extremely easy glide. Every move he makes strikes pleasure in your pussy, the sensitivity of the muscles making your orgasm build with surprising speed. Jimin can feel you clenching around him and he gasps, knowing your tells after seeing you cum so many times in one night. He presses a nimble finger to your clit, and that’s all it takes for you to cum again. A slow simmering orgasm that makes your legs shake as you gasp, latching onto Jimin’s arms for support. He joins you not long after, giving a few short thrusts to make sure that he fills you up deep. 

He drops his full body weight on top of you and you relish in the secure feeling, his cock twitching while still inside you. The shake in your legs finally stills, and Jimin pulls out of you, careful to minimize the amount that slipped out of you. You closed your legs instinctively although you were exhausted beyond belief. As the adrenaline wears off and the sweat begins to dry you shiver under him. Despite the heat of his body, you were definitely in need of something else to cover you. When he feels you shiver he plants a kiss on your forehead before sitting up and pulling aside the comforter on the bed before leading you underneath the layers of warmth. He slips in right after you, wrapping his arms steady around your figure. Your eyes threaten to slip shut, but the absence of the others nags at the back of your brain. 

“Went to get clothes and water,” Jimin explains as if he can read your mind. His head barely lifts from your shoulder as he speaks, and the low hum of his voice against you soothes the very last of your frayed nerves. Seconds later the door glides open, a now-dressed Taehyung and Jungkook with bottles of water and fabric bundled in their hands. 

You and Jimin both take a water bottle, and the other boys settle down on the bed. Suddenly you realize the bed isn't quite big enough for all four of you, as Taehyung’s limbs sprawl overtop of Jungkook’s. 

Jungkook waits until you drain half the water bottle, and then shuffles the pile of clothes in his arms. 

“They’re uh- they’re my clothes, but I. Figured they'd be better than your...dress.” He blushes, gingerly holding it out to you. The sight makes you giggle, but you thank him, and pull the shirt on over your head while you're still in the bed. Feeling like you could trust your legs again you slip out of bed and pull on the boxers and sweatpants he gave you. The shirt falls to your thighs and the bottoms he gave you only fit because of their drawstring, but the enveloping warmth and comfort made up for the size difference. 

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You whisper your thanks, scared to ruin the comfortable low hum of conversation between Taehyung and Jimin. It's easy to slip back under the sheets, wedged between Jimin and Jungkook. Taeyhyung takes the other side of Jimin, barely having enough room for his body at the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he reaches an arm across Jimin to reach you. He gently places a hand on your arm, rubbing gently at the skin there. 

An odd wave of emotion crests over you and your eyes well. “Thank you, by the way.” 

To your complete embarrassment they all coo at once, squishing in closer to you. You all smell like sex and sweat, but the embrace is so sweet that you have to remind yourself it was only a one night stand. 

“We should be the ones thanking you, Y/N. Believe it or we don’t usually do...this.” Jungkook admits. He’s facing your back but you can imagine the blush on his cheeks as he speaks. The idea shocks you and a sound of disbelief punches out of you. 

“It’s true,” Jimin pokes your ribs gently when he sees the look on your face. “We’re pretty picky. But you...” He stops himself, seeming to be afraid of saying too much. A teasing glimmer of hope sprouts in your chest with the implications of his words. Was it too soon for you to suggest doing this again? Or just hanging out like normal people? There’s no denying that you’re wildly attracted to all of them, but does that mean its worth pursuing? “We can think about it in the morning.” Comes Jimin’s gentle voice. Taehyung nods from behind him, and you can tell that his exhaustion is catching up to him. You have no idea it was when you left the club with them, and certainly have no idea what hour it is now. Jungkook grunts his agreement into your neck, and you hope he can't sense the way your heartbeat speeds up at his proximity. 

“Well still, thank you. And good night.” You murmur, nestling into the surprisingly soft pillow. Your eyes shut, and sleep is just inches away, latched between the two men closest to you, when Jimin begins to wiggle. 

“Shit, guys. Let me out, I need to piss.” Triplet sighs follow his demand, and you all laugh as he flips you off on the way to the bathroom. 

sarcastic productions did a vid recently about this thing called Tone Armor and it explains something I've had issues with in HB but struggled to articulate

so Tone Armor is, to simplify it (but I do recommend the vid) what the audience understands the stakes of the show to be. I.e. in a Loony Tunes short no one expects a character to be seriously hurt falling off a cliff, getting shot in the face, getting a piano dropped on them, etc. It's kind of part of suspension of disbelief - some shows exploit tone armor by having an early twist that goes against the conventions of the genre. The twist in Madoka Magica ep3 works entirely off this - if you've seen a lot of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptors you're used to their stakes and you don't expect anyone to really die. In ep3, someone really dies.

And that's a big problem I have with HB - it can't keep its stakes or tone consistent to save its life. In Harvest Moon, Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas is played like a dark comedy joke. We're supposed to take it like a dramatic beat but also a kind of wacky demon thing. But then The Circus drastically shifts the tone and expects us to treat Stolas and Stella as a straight example of domestic violence - which they do by having her try to slap him, something which is much less violent than the hit she's already ordered on him episodes before. They've already had Stella escalate to the end point most abusers get to, played it as a joke, and they want to turn around and demand the audience instead take it seriously instead of treating it like just a thing demons do? It was already shaky ground in ep5 whether we should judge Stella for ordering a hit given that the premise of the show used to be about imps running an assasination business, and their targets used to be in Hell!

The show also can't make up its mind whether the audience should be worried about the characters being in real danger at any moment in time. Western Energy is the absolute nadir for this - one minute Stolas is dodging holy bullets like he knows he's in danger, the next he's calling Blitzo and speaking with no more urgency than he did when he hired him as a bodyguard in Loo Loo Land (and the episode seems to expect us to blame Blitzo for not dropping everything to help him? Why wasn't Stolas screaming in terror on the phone then???). Worse, when he gets cut off Stolas says out loud 'am I in danger right now?' like he wasn't just tied up on the back of a horse bound with blessed rope. What in gods name happened to his intelligence in this episode?

Then it's right back to wacky hijinks right as the tone was starting to shift with the Striker song from the imp trio and Stolas is still making jokes ('how does one get their own theme song?') until the episode then decides it's going to be serious and act like the audience should be worried Stolas could die. Besides the fact Viv was never going to kill her Creator's Pet, it is way too late to demand an audience buy into this plot line on a dramatic level. To make it worse half the fight scene is scored with a bubblegum pop song on the radio and it keeps cutting to the much lower stakes Blitzo trying to get Loona to take her shot, like it makes any sense at all to cross cut between the two! That episode is absolute garbage imo and I have no idea why it ended up the way it did outside of Viv probably insisting there needed to be a plot device that would render Stolas helpless (which begs the question how Striker hasn't managed to finish off half of Hell's nobles by now if he has blessed rope or at least Stolas, given he's also dumb enough not to bother using his eye powers or his demonic form earlier - the power levels in this show are also massively inconsistent)

And then to put the cherry on a very bad cake Blitzo asks 'he can get hurt?' like he didn't already know blessed weapons exist and he didn't already fight Striker for trying to kill Stolas with one of them (which he should have let him do to spare us all the badness of this never-ending plotline)

Extremely good point.

Tone armor is definitely a thing, and Viv's problem is that she wants it to be both ways. She wants this show to be Looney Tunes and Madoka, and she wants to alternate back and forth between the two whenever she pleases, and when her audience inevitably complains or is confused, to blame them.

And that's not how this works.

the great paperback avalanche of ‘23.

it all started with a mischievous cat, and an unexpected book avalanche, setting the stage for a story that would unfold just across the way, where books met brews and two worlds collided in the great paperback avalanche of '23.

PAIRING: taeyong x barista!reader

GENRE: romcom, friendship, a bit of fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

y/n pushed open the door to taeyong's bookstore, the gentle chime of the bell announcing your arrival. “hey, i've got that hot coffee order for taeyong,” you called out, scanning the cozy bookstore for a familiar face.

taeyong emerged from behind a shelf, a stack of books in hand. “right on time. you're a lifesaver on this chilly day.”

you grinned, handing him the cup. “well, someone's gotta keep the local bookworms warm.”

taeyong chuckled, “guilty as charged. thanks, y/n. how's the cafe holding up?”

casually leaning against the bookstore's counter, you shrugged. “same old coffee spills, but customers seem to love our latest pastry. how about your literary haven? any new arrivals?”

taeyong smiled, setting the coffee on the counter. “oh, you know, the usual mix of classics and some hidden gems. there's this new mystery novel i think you'd enjoy.”

“really?” you raised an eyebrow. “maybe i'll borrow it once things calm down at the cafe.”

while taeyong excitedly described the plot twists of the new mystery novel, the door to the bookstore stood ajar, allowing a small, curious cat to slip in unnoticed. its sleek fur blended with the warm tones of the shelves as it strolled through the open entrance.

as taeyong painted a vivid picture of suspense, you leaned in with interest, “a mystery novel, huh? you'll have to recommend it. i could use a good page turner.”

he nodded, “absolutely, it's a real nail-biter. i'll make sure to set one aside for you.”

their conversation continued, blissfully unaware of the feline intruder prowling along the book-lined aisles. the cat's gaze fixated on the tantalizing heights of a ladder, and with a graceful leap, it ascended, its nimble paws making the ascent seem effortless.

“so, any plans for the weekend?” you asked, your eyes scanning the cozy bookstore.

taeyong shrugged, “probably just getting lost in a good book. the usual.”

the cat, now perched on the ladder's top rung, observed the scene below with keen interest. you, still engrossed in conversation, failed to notice the feline spectator above.

“sounds intriguing,” you remarked, a playful glint in your eyes. “i'll hold you to that book recommendation.”

just then, a sudden crash echoed through the bookstore, drawing their attention. both of you turned to see a cascade of books tumbling from the ladder, the mischievous cat darting away in surprise.

taeyong let out an exasperated sigh as he surveyed the scattered books. “seriously? why does it always happen when i'm alone in the morning?”

you couldn't help but grin at the sight. “looks like the cat's on a mission to spice up your day.”

taeyong shot you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “spice it up? more like turn it into a disaster zone. do you see this mess?”

the cat, now innocently grooming itself in a corner, seemed unfazed by the chaos it had caused. taeyong began stacking the fallen books, muttering under his breath, “of course, it had to be the top shelf. why not the ones i can actually reach without a ladder?”

you chuckled, “maybe it's a literary critic, demanding you rearrange your collection.”

rolling his eyes, taeyong continued grumbling, “great. now i’ll be fixing this for the next hour. my coffee's probably cold by now, too.”

noticing taeyong’s visible frustration, you stepped closer. “hey, it's not the end of the world. i might have left the door slightly open when i delivered your coffee. my bad.”

he raised an eyebrow, “your bad? i should've known. first, the cat, and now you're confessing to sabotage?”

you chuckled, “okay, maybe i was trying to sneak in some mystery into your morning. my apologies, detective taeyong."

he couldn't help but smile at your attempt to lighten the mood. “well, detective y/n, you're now a prime suspect in the case of the fallen books.”

“fair enough,” you teased, “but how about we solve this case together? i'll help you clean up, and we'll blame it on the literary cat burglar.”

taeyong hesitated, concern crossing his face. “y/n, i appreciate the offer, but what if you get in trouble? i can't have you risking your job for a mess caused by a mischievous cat and an open door.”

you laughed, gently patting his shoulder. “taeyong, it's just books. besides, if i get fired, we'll open our own bookstore and cafe combo. problem solved.”

his eyes widened at your playful suggestion. “you're not serious, right?”

“of course not,” you grinned, “but seriously, let me help you clean up. it's the least i can do for the great paperback avalanche of '23.”

as you worked side by side, laughter echoing through the bookstore, taeyong couldn't help but appreciate your willingness to lend a hand. “you know, this is the most excitement my morning shift has seen in ages.”

you winked, holding up a dustpan full of fallen bookmarks. “who knew cleaning up a literary crime scene could be this thrilling?”

taeyong grinned, “maybe we should make it a weekly event. 'messy mondays' has a nice ring to it.”

you chuckled, “as long as it doesn't involve toppling bookshelves every time.”

as the two of you finished restoring order to the once-chaotic bookstore, taeyong couldn't help but feel grateful. “thanks, y/n. you turned what could've been a disaster into . . . well, a mess, but at least a fun one.”

you nudged him playfully, “anytime, detective. just promise me you'll keep the mystery novels away from the top shelf.”

with the last book neatly back in place, taeyong and you exchanged a satisfied glance. you shared a secret handshake, a quirky dance of intertwined fingers and playful twirls that had become your signature move.

taeyong grinned, “our special handshake is getting smoother. we might need to trademark it.”

you chuckled, “we'd be millionaires in handshakes. who knew it could be such a lucrative business?”

as you continued to joke, taeyong couldn't resist a mischievous smile. “you know, y/n, in some cultures, a kiss on the cheek is a common way to seal a deal.”

you rolled her eyes, giving him a mock disapproving look. “smooth, detective. but no cheek kissing deals here.”

taeyong chuckled again, “what about a handshake deal . . . with an option for a kiss?”

before you could retort, taeyong earned a gentle pull on his right ear. “ouch! okay, okay, just kidding!”

you giggled, “you're lucky i have a soft spot for bookish detectives.”

your banter was interrupted by your boss yelling from across the street, “y/n!, we've got a line forming! move it!”

you waved, “duty calls. until next time, detective smooth talker.”

and as you hurriedly headed toward the cafe, your boss's call still ringing in the air, taeyong couldn't resist one last playful remark. “hey, y/n! you owe me a date for the sabotage!”

you turned with a smirk, “sabotage? taeyong, you're delusional if you think i'm taking you out for cold coffee and a cat-induced book avalanche.”

taeyong chuckled, catching up with you, “i mean it, y/n. consider it a thank-you for the unexpected excitement.”

your eyes narrowed in mock suspicion, “is this your way of getting a free coffee and a mystery novel recommendation?”

taeyong winked, “okay, maybe i owe you a coffee for the trouble. but seriously, let me take you out. a detective owes a cafe worker at least one date, right?”

you couldn't help but laugh, “fine, detective smooth talker. but if there's any more chaos, you're buying dinner too.”

you and taeyong exchanged a quick handshake, sealing the deal. you headed into the cafe, leaving taeyong with a playful promise hanging in the air. little did both of you know, amidst the spilled coffee and book chaos, a charming chapter of your story had just begun in the small cozy town.

i think i saw you talk about picayune a bit on your twitter! i was wondering about it if you’re willing to give your thoughts. i heard it was similar to that one game that’s called the void rains upon her heart, at least from a friend of mine.

hi anonymous; although i say i could gush about it: i mostly said everything i:d want to on the twitter already, but yeah: i love it, it:s a sneaky "top game of the year" for me, i think, and is one of those passion-projects (?) that just feels as though it carries with it a-lot of love for game design and just the act of creating games; i:d put it like this: i really enjoy survivors-type games because they:re dopamine-traps that just give me skinners-box gratification when i:m struggling to get through a day, but as a genre the games are very formulaic and usually seem like they:re 1) cynically made because the formula is hot + can make some easy cash for little effort since the game-design aspect is just laid out like clean providence 2) made a little more earnestly but usually for a developer as an exercise which happens to also be probably decently lucrative -- and both of these prior points lead to pretty stale experiences, but dopamine-trap experiences that i like all-the-same, as-well: due to me just not having a lot of money outside of my weekly grocery budget, i don:t really let myself spend money on non-grocery things, so: looking @ picayune dreams i was hit with this mix of "this looks awesome" and "i know this formula and the gloss is just going to be another stale 100% achievement grind that:ll eat up my time but leave me mad at myself for wasting $5 when i need groceries" -- but it had a demo, and (happily) the demo betrayed my cynicism and just oozed with sincerity on behalf of the developers, so: i bought it.

it:s a very good blend of shmup/bullet-hell type gameplay and the standard survivors-genre, and although i don:t think it:s the best gameplay in either genre, the experience as one whole is executed perfectly for what it is: it unfolds and never seems lazy in its effort or gameplay; the obtuse mechanics are fun to figure out; the story segments (while super iterative of yume nikki type rpgmaker stuff) have this razor-sharp conciseness for the vibe it wants you to feel that i really enjoy (it reminds me of scientology, archangel:nemesis in a weird way: because the breadth of the plot centers around being selected to save a humanity that is trapped down here on earth, sort-of indifferent to your mission -- and i think it creates this plot really beautifully despite using very little words or demanding a lot of your time (<- this point here is key for me, cause i have northernlion syndrome of nearly no-longer having patience for games that want me to stare at some story for a long time, or hit you with tutorials before gameplay, or whatever: picayune dreams just goes and trusts you to figure it out)).

i haven:t played it much lately, cause (if it had one fault, which is more just my user-experience than the devs) the runs can get to be longer than i have patience for (you can loop and at this point you:re getting close to an hour run), so i end up self-destructing when i get bored;

i:d encourage anyone to give the demo a try, or just look at the steam-page and take in the art direction -- it:s a game that probably won:t let you down if it even /slightly/ looks interesting to you, & i still feel a rush of goosebumps when the final song comes in during the last boss; it:s just solid (void rains upon her heart is another one of these great games for me but i 100%'d it earlier in the year and have just been waiting for the dev to add more content; that:s another game that i think more people should give love to because it blends shmup+roguelite formula better than any other attempt i:ve played and also never really let my expectations as a player down as i trusted it to unfold with content and excitement -- because that:s what i like about this trend of roguelite/meta-progression in games: games that use these are like constantly wanting to award you with more because it:s like they are just so eager to spend time with you and don:t want to let you down (at the least cynical)).

at the moment though i:m just playing DCSS cause i:m back in a "everything feels pretty dull and colorless at the moment" spell -- but again: that:s why i love stuff like picayune dreams and sci-fi harry; occasionally stuff surprises you with its love, its passion, and you can:t help but let yourself be affected, and i like being affected.

take care.

I finally finished reading The Phantom of the Opera, which is a total mess and often mind-numbing, but one of its main crimes involves this device I often see in pulp fiction that's sort of curious. Gaston Leroux has a lot of trouble figuring out what you can just summarize versus what you need to describe in detail, and when you should do those things. For instance:

The Phantom's main demand is that the opera's resident diva should make way for Christine. He also wants a dedicated box, and an allowance of $20,000. The managers are skeptical of the widely-believed rumor that the Phantom is a real ghost (because why would a ghost need money?), and assume someone is scamming them. They ignore the Phantom's demands, which incurs an act of violence--and that's the whole narrative purpose of these guys, to provoke the Phantom one time so we can tell he means business. And the main thing is Christine, who is the center of the entire plot; the money part is so inconsequential that it doesn't even make it into most adaptations. It's not as if the Phantom specifically needs money For Something, and also the managers aren't in danger of bankruptcy or whatever. When you take the money out of the story, it continues to function in exactly the same way, this is really not a load-bearing issue.

However, what happens is that in the third act when Christine is mysteriously kidnapped out of the middle of a performance and you feel like FINALLY something exciting is going to happen, suddenly we're forced to rewind an hour or two so we can spend time with the managers who are having a complicated conversation about the Phantom's allowance and also still debating whether the Phantom is real. At this point I know the Phantom is real, Christine knows, her stupid not-boyfriend Raoul knows, and the only thing that really matters is saving Christine and hopefully having some kind of thrilling final showdown (which doesn't happen btw)...but we're stuck with these two pointless characters who spend literally around 20 pages arguing about how it is that the Phantom's allowance is conveyed to him. Like what's the method of administration there. It's incredibly uninteresting and doesn't serve the plot really at all. And at the very end of the book the Phantom gives back all the money, so it turns out that we didn't even need to spend time on this idea in the first place.

BUT we are not done with this topic. During the epilogue the narrator, who has been aggregating all this testimony about the Phantom debacle, goes back to one of the survivors and asks him how the money moves around, and there's this extremely dull description of exactly how the Phantom was able to creep around everywhere--something we already take for granted about him by now--and then there is even further discussion of how the Phantom gave all the money back, which affects nothing. Also in the epilogue is a brief summary of the Phantom's actually-interesting backstory of being a carnival freak and an ingenious polymath who learned the art of villainy from a sadistic sultan's daughter--like oh my god, why is this not in the main story where the 20 pages of money talk is just taking up space and slowing everything down?? But that's the kind of thing that Gaston Leroux thinks is not that cool and he can just casually shove it up the ass end of the story to check a box.

What this made me think about, besides how bad the book is despite the story's enduring popularity, is that there's kind of a thing in pulp writing where MONEY just becomes involved for its own sake. And let me be more specific, because I realize that money is a common motivator of many kinds of genre plots: Heists are a whole subgenre, terrorists in action movies usually want money, money is essential to any mob-related story, and actually there was a whole rash of "recession horror" movies in the last 10-15 years (think KNIVES OUT). But often when you're reading a horror novel, or something like that where the main plot is not finance-related, it happens that the hero experiences a huge windfall or discovers a major stash, and it can be a convenience to explain how they get from Point A to Point B, but it often feels like it's just there for the thrill of it. When we think about the exploitation elements of genre storytelling, we usually think about scenes of "gratuitous" sex and violence that mainly exist to provide titillation and catharsis, but I think there is a kind of pornography of money that sometimes enters the picture for the same reasons. In the (awful) Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series, Lisbeth's ability to steal is indulged with great interest, but it isn't just about the thrill of the caper or its effects on the bad guys; there are quite long (and strangely sort of good) stretches that just involve Lisbeth alone administrating her hoard, shopping, looking at apartments, taking little trips, etc. They're just languorous descriptions of what it would be like to have money, designed to inspire a sense of desire and pleasure in the reader that isn't much related to the story. Knowing that author Stieg Larsson had been a broke journalist who ate nothing but McDonald's all the time seems to explain this to some degree. I'm sure there are also examples of this in the work of Stephen King, who grew up without indoor plumbing for a time. Not that you need to have been dirt poor to understand the pornography of money, but I'm sure it helps. I wish I could think of more concrete examples, I just know it's very familiar. If you read any amount of genre fiction, you've probably thought of some yourself.

per aspera ad astra – through hardships, to the stars

{ pairing } arlecchino x gn!reader

{ word count } 2k

{ summary } there is nothing arlecchino fears more than losing you, but after you get injured on a mission trying to protect her, she realizes that there is nothing she won't do to keep you safe.

{ genre/warnings } slight angst, with a tinge of fluff. arlecchino is kind of demanding and overprotective. reader has a shitty background. established (secret) relationship between reader and arlecchino. mentions of blood and injury. reader calls arlecchino 'arle' as a nickname.

{ a/n } i wrote this for @ghostly-march's 600 followers event, based on the prompt, "heliotrope" (the determination to do anything for their loved one). ngl i actually felt like giving up on this piece a few times, but i promised myself i would write something for arlecchino since i saw her in the fatui trailer + i couldn't really think of any other plot line that fit the prompt. anyways i think this turned out pretty good despite the struggle, and i am honored to finally bless the arlecchino x reader tag on tumblr 🙏🙏🙏 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!!

THE FIRST THING you’re aware of when you regain consciousness is the blizzard howling outside. It rages, the glacial wind sweeping the dried branches of dead trees across the small window. Even with the fire blazing in the hearth and the thick blanket slung across your shoulders, you can feel the cold seeping into your bones, rendering you even more helpless than you already are. The presence of such a furious winter could only mean one thing – you were back in Snezhnaya. 

You couldn’t remember exactly what had happened before you blacked out, only that things had gone south when you were sent on a confidential mission for the Fatui abroad, with the company of a certain harbinger. In the throes of a fight, you had gotten injured, blood staining the walls and floors – not only the enemy’s blood, but yours. The memory sent a shiver crawling up your spine, one completely unrelated to the cold.

You knew working for the Fatui came with its dangers, and yet it still felt surreal. If it weren’t for the thick bandage wrapped over your throbbing side, you would have just palmed it off as some twisted dream. But it wasn’t. What happened when you went down? Did Arlecchino escape? Did she get injured too? That was as far as you allowed your mind to go, not entertaining the thought of the only other awful possibility. No, if you were back in Snezhnaya, then it had to mean that she had made it too.

Over the roaring wind, you could make out the faint sound of unhurried footsteps. It came from outside your ward, and as much as you tried to crane your neck to see, the pain was too overwhelming for you to even move an inch. The door creaked open, harsh light cutting into the mellow darkness of your room. Shutting the door behind them, the individual made their way inside the room, heels clicking – until they looked over at your bed and paused. 

“Y/N? Are you awake?”

Arlecchino. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve pinched yourself. Was this a dream? You tried once again to get up, only succeeding in hurting yourself further. Her footsteps quickened when she noticed your painful squirming, and she made her way towards your bed, her face coming into view. 

Even in the weak light, you could tell that she had changed drastically since the last time you saw her. Her cheeks were more hollow, and the life in her eyes had dimmed significantly. In her haste, some of her hair had fallen into her eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush the strands away.

She busies herself by adjusting the pillows behind you, but the way she avoids your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. Without saying anything, she helps you to the glass of water at your bedside table, the coolness easing the drought in your throat. 

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, taking a seat at the chair by your bedside. You had seen her in the Fatui meeting room countless times before; she was commanding and ruthless, living up to her name as one of the most powerful Fatui Harbingers. It always amazed you when she talked to you so softly, with enough care to soothe a spooked cat. With her title and formidable clothing stripped away, she could have passed for a regular person. 

“I’m okay.” When you speak, your voice feels ancient, almost like an archaeological relic that had been buried for centuries.

“You’ve been unconscious for one week now,” she says, answering the question lingering at the tip of your tongue. “The medics say you’ll recover completely, you just need some rest.” 

At the statement, she releases a sigh, almost like she had been comforted by the fact. You notice the way she still seems to be avoiding your eyes, and a sinking feeling crawls into your stomach. Why was she acting like this? 

“Did you get hurt, Arle? What happened?” In the time that you had known her, Arlecchino was always secretive about the things she thought could hurt you. She hid those ugly truths from you, with the intention of protecting you from harm. It was one of the things that you both loved and hated about her, and you knew that she wouldn’t reveal the truth of what she was hiding without a little prodding.

You can see the hesitation in her eyes when she opens her mouth to speak, choosing and mincing her words carefully to ensure that they were appropriate.

“We were attacked by some armed treasure hoarders. It seemed like their only intention was to steal, but they still had the nerve to intercept the Fatui, much less a Fatui Harbinger.” Her gaze is cast downwards, but you can see the moment when her mood suddenly turns from one of anger to sadness. “You saved me, you know. They didn’t hesitate to attack us, and if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve gotten hit by one of their arrows.” 

Almost like she could see through your thin nightclothes, her gaze travels straight to the place where the bandage had been wrapped around your body. “It was only my duty,” you say. 

“No, I can’t let this happen again. I was supposed to protect you.” 

“It’s okay, Arle. I’m fine now.”

“But what if your injury was worse?” For the first time since she entered your room, she looks straight into your eyes. Her gaze is filled with a kind of pain that pierces your heart, the kind only derived from being a hair’s breadth away from losing someone you love. “What if we hadn’t made it back to Snezhnaya in time? What would have happened to you then?”

A long silence settles above the two of you - Arlecchino with her head in her hands, and you staring at her in disbelief. You’re almost ashamed at how much you’ve caused her to hurt. You want to reach out and hold her hand, but there’s a palpable wall of tension between the both of you, and you suppress the urge.

“It won’t happen again, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll be more careful in the future,” you whispered, the only other sound in the room the crackling of wood in the hearth. 

“It certainly won’t happen again,” Arlecchino says, with a kind of finality that sends a chill up your spine. You could tell there was something else she was hiding, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“What are you thinking about, Arle?” 

“Do you know how long it took me to rise to my station as a Fatui Harbinger?” she asks. Since you had known her, she had kept her past hidden under a layer of secrecy. You shake your head, eager to hear where she was going with her statement. 

“Years. It took years. But I was determined to make my way to the top, and no one dared stand in my way. And when I finally reached where I wanted to be...I discovered that it was quite lonely. Until I met you.” She smiles and takes your hand with enough love to heal a withering plant. She puts your hand on her chest, and through her black shirt, you could feel her heart beating. 

Your relationship with her had begun to progress soon after you had been assigned to her team. Your initial impression of her was that she was just as cold and demeaning as the other Harbingers. She was beautiful, but deadly, and the mystery that surrounded her made her all the more chilling. You were determined to stay on track with your duties and not attract any unnecessary attention to yourself, but for some reason she took an interest in you.

The time you spent poring through documents together and chatting about attack strategy soon turned into idle conversations and lingering touches, and you learnt the heart that was buried under all that ice. The heart that you felt beating under your palm now. 

“When you’re a part of the Fatui, what we have…doesn’t come without a price, Y/N. It’s dangerous, especially for you. The Tsaritsa and the other Harbingers have spies planted everywhere in Snezhnaya, and if word were to get out about our relationship…” she squeezes your hand, the possibility hanging over your heads like sharp icicles. 

“It won’t be pretty,” you finished. Her silence was all the closure you needed. Her post as a Fatui Harbinger obviously meant a lot, and if your relationship was forbidden, you could only come to one conclusion.

You pull your hand back from hers, as if you had been stung. “Arle, are you breaking up with me?” 

She looks up at you with such shock, that you almost retract your words. “No, I would never. I’ve considered the possibility, but the thought of actually going through with it is painful.” She shakes her head, and you release a sigh of relief. 

“Then what is it that you’re planning to do?”

“I’m giving up my title as a Fatui Harbinger.” 

It’s your turn to stare at her in shock. She was giving up everything she earned…for you? She gazed at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something, before continuing. “And I want you to come with me.” 

“No, I won’t let you do that. You worked so hard-”

“We don’t have any other choice, Y/N. The Fatui is too dangerous for you, and if I stay, you’ll only be roped into more nonsense. I’ve already heard rumors flying around about the way I carried you back here, instead of leaving you to die like I was expected to. To them, you and the other subordinates are simply disposable pawns used to do their dirty work.”

You shake your head, refusing to hear out anything she has to say – but she persists.

“As a Harbinger, cruelty is expected of me, but I can’t find it within myself to act like that when you’re around.”

“But how would it feel suddenly giving up everything you’ve worked so hard for?” 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been wanting to leave for the longest time – you getting hurt just sealed the deal.” She speaks with more resolve, as though your reaction hadn’t wavered her. 

You felt that having her leave the Fatui on your behalf was selfish, but if it meant that the both of you could turn over a brand new leaf together, was it really all that bad of a decision?

The more you thought about it, the more leaving behind this life appealed to you. The Fatui was no place for someone who wanted to lead a normal life. You had been forcibly enlisted into their ranks when you were younger, by parents who labeled you as nothing more than a ruffian who needed to learn their place in the world. You had thought of them as cruel, but as it turned out, they were nothing compared to the ones who ruled over Snezhnaya. In the Tsaritsa’s quest to be the most pure, she had fed poison into the four corners of Teyvat. You had witnessed the damage firsthand, and it wasn’t something you would ever want to see again. 

But after all your woes and misfortune, it seemed like a blessing when you finally found your solace in Arlecchino. You were sure that there was more to the world than just evil – she was proof of that – and you wanted to see it, with her by your side.

“I’ve made my decision,” you say, taking a steadying breath.

Arlecchino looks up at you, her eyes expectant. “Tell me.” 

“I’ll leave with you.” 

She smiles a genuine smile, one that crinkles the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. It was a sight you knew you wanted to behold for the rest of your life, one you would never get tired of. 

She takes your hand and kisses the back of it. “I promise I’ll make you happy – till the very end of our days.”

And just like that, a new chapter had dawned upon you, the ruins of the old chapter crumbling behind you. It was never promised that the future would be easy, but with Arlecchino by your side, you knew you could push through anything. 

One time my writing workshop that I recommend to everyone (they have online courses and a free podcast!) had sci-fi author David Brin as a guest lecturer and he gave some advice to new writers that has been living in my head rent-free ever since.

He said, first time writers should consider having their first novel be a murder mystery.

The reason being as follows:

Mysteries require a great deal of structure to work properly.

They also teach one a great deal about how to build a plot, especially around characters who want something (like: to solve the mystery or to not get caught)

How to have conflict and tension that grows out of each scene,

How we're introduced to characters, and finally,

How everything must build to a satisfying conclusion in which attentive readers are just a little bit ahead and casual readers discover the solution and see all the clues laid out in a satisfying manner in retrospect.

And it's a great genre for bringing in a friend to see whether or not you achieved the goal of laying out the clues properly, because it is in fact impossible to do on your own (this is true of most things in writing, but it's a bit more subtle when trying to tell if other stuff like romance has landed properly).

Putting a cut here to go over some popular examples and how writers can learn from them to improve their stories.

And the more I thought about this advice, the more I realized just how many of the most popular genre works of recent years had a mystery (whether or not it's a murder they're solving) as the way to drag the audience into the story, at least at the beginning, even if the plot then evolves into something else midway, because mystery is also an excellent way to dump exposition because it's all about finding out the truth.

The Winter Soldier film, in addition to being a Bourne-style action thriller set in the Marvel universe, has a strong plot through-line of "Who "killed" Nick Fury? Who is the Winter Soldier?" which gets us through a good chunk of the film that would otherwise be a slog of exposition and it works so well.

The first three Harry Potter books are actually very well structured mysteries. I've argued for ages that Book 4 onward is where Rowling lost the mystery plot structure to the series' detriment, the plots ballooned, and the whole thing got quite sloppy (this in addition to her reprehensible views, to be clear, I've been a critic of her structure in stories for quite some time short version: she's very bad at it when not grafting onto a school year).

The first Game of Thrones book and S1 revolved around Ned Stark as our primary protagonist seeking out the answer to the mystery of Who Killed The Hand of the King and Why - revealing the deeper mystery of Joffrey's lineage and setting up the events that eventually led to his execution. AND, by the way, that's PART of why Ned's execution was so shocking and effective: GRRM borrowed from the murder mystery genre to build a portion of his plot around, and then disrupted it by killing the investigator which as the POV character generally speaking very rarely happens in mysteries, which made it an even bigger and more effective shock for readers when Ned, who seemed to have plot armor on many levels, dies thus reinforcing the theme of "You win or you die" and the brutal chaos of the GoT world.

What I think makes all 3 of these very popular examples so effective is the blend of genre. Murder mysteries are tantalizing but they do sometimes fail to answer the "So what?" of one person dying in a small town. But combine the murder mystery structure, which demands so much of its writer and is so effective at dragging the reader along through the hardest part of introducing them to your world, with a genre that is better at answering the "So what?" like epic fantasy or action thriller, and now you've got a very effective combination for entertaining an audience.

Re; That Kerry being dismissive thing- RIGHT?! Wasn't he in the middle of setting up the concert? He was just busy at the moment! I'm sure that if V called at a different time, when he was travelling or had a free moment he'd talk to them properly. Other than his ego, which like, you're right about, he's a busy man, who can't just have an inpromptu catching up session because he has milions of fans and eurodollars on the line. I think that he's being reasonable, he gives V an estimate of when he will be free and when they will be able to meet up again, and he even promises them a trip to wherever they'd like.

I think that a lot of people have this very demanding attitude towards romantic interests in video games, where they are basically pure wish fulfillments who change 180 when you romance them and do nothing but cheer on the player's every decision and tell them how much they love and mean to them. In cyberpunk you really feel like they all retain their personalities, good and bad parts, and you just happen to be in a relationship with said person, not someone who lost all their edges to cater to your character. The characters take logical actions when viewed through their own internal logic- Judy leaves and gets married, Panam is furious when she thinks V ghosted her and is still pissed, River doesn't want to mix up V in a potentially dangerous situation and Kerry focuses on his career. They won't magically drop everything just because V resurfaced, things happened in these two years and V can't do anything about it but accept it.

I agree 110% with you. He’s in the middle of setting up a concert, and despite having his attention pulled every which way is trying to give V as much of him as he can. Which is quite generous, considering he is an international rockstar and incredibly busy. Not only do people have a strange view of romantic interests in video games, but I also think a lot of fans want the romance in video games to follow traditional Romance parameters, and unless it’s a dating sim, I would not consider most video game plot genres or even sub genres to be Romance. Giving up everything for your one true love is fine and logical in a traditional Romance storyline— Cyberpunk 2077 is not that. Cyberpunk is true to its namesake, it’s dystopian, it’s bleak, it has an amount of realism that a lot of traditional Romance pushes to the wayside in favor of happily ever after and tropes that, when looked at w any sort of consideration of realism, would actually be a collection of red flags.

2023 book recs! (to read and to skip)

inspired by @deanmarywinchester's incredible rec list and general reading reviews!

RECOMMEND:

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells: I love you autistic androids. forever and ever. I'm pretending the adaptation is not happening bc I don’t think the screen can do it justice so I’m simply enjoying every single page of these books before there’s inevitable show Discourse. I love the plots and the dialogue and just like murderbot I too wish I could be left alone to watch my shows.

Something That May Shock and Discredit You by Daniel Lavery: this book has a couple excerpts on here that make the rounds and piqued my interest and holy shit. if you are trans and queer and probably autistic. read this book as fast as you can. I felt seen in every word and also. Absolutely read to filth.

The Traitor Baru Cormorant (the masquerade series) by Seth Dickinson: I think I finally started this series because of my bestie @ofbowsandbooks (as is the case with so many things) but who's to say. either way I read this towards the beginning of the year and have not stopped thinking about it since. if you read it. please listen to so much (for) stardust by fob. I cannot recommend the specific kind of damage it does to you while rotating baru and tain hu in your mind. just. tailored to me in so many ways (fantasy story about imperialism and masks and lying and the terrible power of math) so I do admit bias there.

Settlers by J Sakai: If you can only read a book or two about understanding why colonialism/capitalism is at the root of all evil...read this book. It's at the top of my general list of political nonfic recs (next to capitalism & disability by marta russell and border & rule by Harsha Walia). I like to describe it as a leftist pov of us history that pulls apart some of the liberal/white "optimism" of People's History of the US.

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib: I think this was also based on an excerpt I saw on here. I finally started getting into memoirs/essay collections this year and WOW. I mean, even if that genre isn't your thing, you should still read this book. It's just so so good, and utilizes unique topics (particularly music, I love his FOB essay) to explore both small personal moments and larger existential issues.

The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon: This is considered a staple of anticolonial movements & education for a reason. Definitely helpful for understanding the global decolonial revolutions of the 1960s.

Decarcerating Disability by Liat Ben-Moshe: An incredible study of abolition from a disability lens. Clear (if a bit repetitive at times) but overall an engaging read that definitely brings a much needed addition to larger abolition texts.

Chain-Gang All Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah: I read this one after seeing @deanmarywinchester's posts about it. I read it in two days and it knocked me so hard on my ass. Especially as someone who was obsessed with the hunger games in middle/high school. Just. Wow. holy shit. we knew this already but abolish prisons police etc etc and also we have GOT to be done with tiktok. and alexas. and just being okay with casually reposting/consuming videos and images of violence against people of color and and and -

Exile & Pride by Eli Clare: transmasc disabled PNW crew rise up!!!! the trauma of growing up as all these things in a small rural town!!! I have very rarely felt so deeply seen and understood as when I was reading this book. It's heavy emotionally & topically, so warnings there. I did struggle a bit with it but only because of how deeply some of his story reflects my own.

Innocence & Corruption by Aiyana Goodfellow: This book and its author demand a fundamental shift from how we as a society view and treat children. If you are planning on having kids, have kids in your life, are a teacher, etc etc, cannot emphasize enough how important this book is to remind us that kids are people now, and they deserve autonomy, respect, and support.

Honorable Mentions:

he who drowned the world by shelley parker-chan : this was moved down a category only because the book before this one (she who became the sun) is literally just setup for this sneaky gut punch. So as a duology, could be stronger. this book as a standalone? Wow. There's some banger lines and concepts and characters in there. (Wang baoxiang. Just. Oh boy). Definitely fascinating in convo with baru cormorant, and I think a reason it's lower for me as well is because the lens of hwdtw is much more of an internal power turmoil than a study of imperalism, which I'm biased towards interest-wise. I read this purely because of @ash-and-starlight's incredible art, so please go check that out if you read the book - It is absolutely worth the read for their art.

the Black Jacobins by C L R James: I'm a french revolution bitch. it was a special interest of mine as a kid and got me invested in history. that said, we gotta talk about france's fuckery. which is to say, slavery/genocide/colonialism etc etc. This book is somewhat tricky to read at points, especially in keeping track of who's who, but a really incredible explanation of the beginning of Haiti's fight for independence. If you enjoy French or Caribbean history, anticolonial revolutions, and some of the nitty-gritty details of history textbooks, this is for you.

life under the jolly roger by Gabriel Kuhn: who here has seen black sails. (thee gay pirate show. Original edition.) strikes a good balance between an understanding of what pirates have/can/could represent, and absolutely clarity about their actual violence, legacy, and politics. Informative without being drawn in by the romanticism or dismissing its power completely.

the essential June Jordan: Politically relevant and also just lyrically beautiful poetry.

hell followed with us by Andrew Joseph White: trans horror fans w/ Christianity beef, this is for you. I am NOT a horror fan, but it was so well done and resonant with me that I stomached the gore for it and do absolutely recommend. if that’s your thing

DO NOT RECOMMEND:

the invisible life of addie larue by ve schwab: I love VE and am a bit of an apologist for her prose over plot bc her worldbuilding is always so cinematic to me, but this was such a frustrating waste of a brilliant concept. It was just...boring? Neither Addie nor Henry are particularly interesting (Henry's relatable, but again, not engaging as a character) and for someone who's been alive for a long time, I expected more unique flashbacks and worldbuilding. I expected the ten thousand doors of january, but this was not that, although I think at its soul it wanted to be.

the lies of locke lamora by scott lynch - Been meaning to read this forever since it was recommended a lot on here if you liked six of crows. I would say a similar setup (dickension fantasy) but that's about it. Characters aren't that likeable or clever, the action is slow, and I take issue with the ending.

unwieldy creatures by addie tsai - I so badly wanted this book to be good. It was not.

a day of fallen night by samantha shannon - It was fine, it's just such a long book I think time is better spent elsewhere, ya know?

provenance - second ann leckie book that i've finished unimpressed. despite murderbot being top of my list, this similar vibe of sci-fi did not strike me as one with such a unique clear voice. It just felt like a more inclusive version of many average space books.

Put On Your Raincoats | Private Private (Unknown, 1971)

Early on, the detective protagonist played by Ric Lutze is sitting in his office and munching on a pear when Rene Bond walks on. Bond pulls out a gun which misfires, at which point she starts crying that she was trying to avenge the death of her husband and even screwed that up. Lutze explains that he killed the man in self defense, but quite frankly looks more interested in his pear. This sets up the central dynamic of the movie, more compelling than the actual plot about a bank robbery, which is that Lutze plays a compulsive eater. In any given scene he is stuffing his face with whatever food he has at hand, or going to get something to shove in there provided he isn’t occupied with genre demands. And even then his attention seems to waver, as he plays darts while being blown by Bond. (He also tells her “I’m glad I killed your husband”, which is a really weird compliment.)

When he visits Bond’s house he seems more interested in his sandwich and fries than in her. After his office gets raided, he stuffs his face while on the phone, leaving the viewer to wonder if the person on the other end of the line could make out anything he said. We even get a surprisingly long scene where he packs his lunch while in the nude. I guess that’s the joke, but the way that the movie sets it up means that it amuses more for its absurdity than any actual punchlines here. At one point in the movie I was seriously wondering whether Lutze was paid with lunch.

You know this is a great movie because there’s no credited director. The raw materials of the film were so powerful that the finished product willed itself into existence. The camera just started rolling on its own. Yup, that’s the only explanation. Anyway, this is probably typical of porno movies of this era in that it’s obviously shot cheaply and quickly, and the filmmaking can be charitably described as unfussy. There is actually something of a plot here, filtered through a sense of dramatic irony as the detective hero remains oblivious to the actual machinations of the criminals. And the climactic bank robbery happens offscreen, which perhaps makes this like the cinematic equivalent of jazz (the action scenes you don’t see). Yeah, this is real deep.

Anyway, the sex scenes are uniformly low energy, although there is one where the participants are on top of a table that creaks loudly during the action and the male grabs onto a chandelier like it’s load bearing that might have you worried for the performers’ safety. And there’s another scene where the same man speculates that he’s " the only person in the world who got his dick sucked by a person who planned a bank robbery", and I’d like a greater sample size. These things are often enjoyable for providing windows into the filmmakers’ homes, and there’s a pretty arresting painting of a caribou in one the later scenes.

Anyway, this is very obviously not good, and could probably stand to be even shorter than it is, but something about putting a detective plot in a porno always tickles my fancy (calling this a noir would be a stretch, though), and I like hanging out with Rene Bond, what can I say.

The Black Phone

The Black Phone is like ordering a bacon cheeseburger that you thought might have some special sauce on it but doesn’t.

What you ate is really pretty good! All the ingredients are balanced well. The burger is grilled the way you like it. The bacon could probably have been cooked just a little better but it’s fine. It’s a tasty burger. You’re happy you ordered it. Everyone who went to the burger joint with you really seemed to love it too! But it needs a little something extra under the bun.

I’m not really a horror guy. It’s just never been my favorite genre and I really only get something out of certain segments of the genre. I feel like this should be made known simply for the sake of context, both for people who are big horror fans, as well as those who share my lack of exuberance for the genre. It just so happens, though, that The Black Phone is precisely the kind of horror movie that I gravitate toward: A clever concept wrapped around a plot and scenarios that are moody and more psychologically or supernaturally focused than something grisly and visceral.

We follow Finney (Mason Thames), a floundering 13-year-old boy who seems terminally incapable of standing up for himself, to the point where even his kid sister, Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) is more successful at fending off his bullies. Life is hard enough for most teens, but it’s especially difficult in this small Colorado suburb that’s struggling to deal with a rash of disappearances, all boys around Finney’s age. Gossip among the kids is that an abductor nicknamed The Grabber is responsible, but even the police are thus far stumped as to who or what is responsible for these disappearances. However, Finney soon finds out The Grabber isn’t just some school yard urban legend when he’s abducted and trapped inside a soundproofed basement containing little more than a mattress and a disconnected black rotary telephone.

Just what does The Grabber want from him? It’s unclear. But the only way Finney stands a chance of surviving is with the help of the mysterious voices that speak to him over the phone.

What ensues is a delightful exercise in ratcheted tension, measured progression and fostering a perpetual sense that anything could happen next. Director Scott Derrickson does a remarkable job of keeping things lively and engaging despite nearly half the movie taking place inside a bleak, concrete basement with his lead character talking to disembodied voices. He wisely knows how to best split the time between Finney and Gwen (who keeps having dreams related to the abductions), never letting us spend too much time sequestered in the basement. And while jump scares often feel lazy, Derrickson deploys a hat trick of them here that manage to at least feel superbly placed as a release valve for a scene and not just a cheap bit of punctuation.

Thames isn’t quite up to the task of shouldering the weight such a demanding scenario brings, but for a young actor he does well enough given the constraints. Though thankfully he has a superbly creepy antagonist to interact with in The Grabber, played to off-kilter perfection by Ethan Hawke. Hawke is one of my favorite working actors and it’s always a delight seeing superb actors play against type. Hawke’s face is hidden behind a segmented mask (one that should rightly become iconic in its own right) but he uses that obfuscation to fuel the unease with his measured voice and eerily calm demeanor.

Special praise must also be given to McGraw who turns Gwen into a little firecracker of a character, garnering some of the best laughs in the movie as well as providing a big part of its emotional backbone in some ways.

The true backbone of the film, though, is found in its script, penned by Derrickson and his longtime collaborator, C. Robert Cargill, based on a short story by none other than Stephen King’s son, Joe Hill. It moves with clockwork precision, never wasting a scene. Every moment that matters is set up for a satisfactory payoff that often garnered literal cheers from the audience. Gasps. Yelps. Applause. This delivers everything you’d want in an audience reaction from this sort of movie.

What makes the quality of the script so frustrating, though, is that it ends up highlighting how a very good movie could have been great. Because for as satisfying as The Black Phone is, it’s still lacking that extra punch from that special sauce, something to give it extra texture or depth of flavor. Everything that makes this movie satisfying is entirely on the surface. That makes it an easy watch, but it leaves you hungry for something a little bit more substantial later. This isn’t to say that Cargill or Derrickson are incapable of saying something through the movie, but it does feel like there wasn’t much of an attempt at doing so. The Black Phone feels like it’s lacking some larger subtext or even a deeper emotional payoff that simply never surfaces or arrives, respectively.

That said, the movie never feels like a too-slight experience despite this and is almost certainly one I look forward to revisiting, something I rarely do with horror films.

Movie Review: The Coffee Table is disturbing, sinister and exquisitely uncomfortable

Independent films usually have limited releases in movie theaters, their filmmakers present them at festivals to publicize their work, which are subject to the scrutiny of very demanding critics who look for that detail that makes them stand out among the others and earn them awards. a prize. Many of these productions made in many countries are destined to end up in home formats or as filler for some platform, but what about those that win awards and that are liked by locals and strangers or by more general public, this may transcend and his creative team has more work in other types of work or that nothing happens and it is just the novelty of the moment while the big studios spend millions of dollars on guaranteed failures. To be honest, this can be seen as something very unfair because we have an idea and carry it out with good results, but nothing happens, especially for all those who were involved in that entire process, we tend to criticize in a bad way without knowing what is there. Behind the final result, it seems that from the outset this is doomed to failure and that only a few know about it and recommend it by word of mouth. Spain is a country that has had very good film productions, great directors and actors have taken us to know stories in different genres, some very successful and others not so lucky that are forgotten, there is a director who has done what he has able with what he has had, the short films Nada S.A (2014). A Love Story (2015), I'm Sorry Honey (2015), It's Not What It Seems (2015), R.I.P (2017), ASYLUM: Twisted Horror and Fantasy Tales (2020) gave him the gateway to the world of cinema With Matar a Dios (2017) and The Coffee Table (2022), Caye Casas together with Albert Pintó have made interesting proposals in their stories, in their direction and their cinematography. In a very punishing 2022 for the film industry came The Coffee Table, a project that is difficult to describe and has had its highest point in 2024, causing controversy and dividing opinions. The film has already been shown in different festivals with success putting its filmmakers on the right path to continue delivering such good works with a peculiar and sinister way of telling stories.

What is the movie about?

María (Estefanía de los Santos) and Jesús (David Pareja) have just become parents, but their relationship is not going through the best moment, this crisis has caused them to have more problems, what they cannot imagine even in their worst nightmares is what Buying a dining room table will become the worst decision of your lives. Some works are characterized by being very peculiar, their vision may or may not be novel, they may or may not give us a good experience in a time of entertainment, and they may or may not involve us in their plot beyond what we think. and in the end, it may or may not leave us thinking about what we just saw and what relationship that has to something that has personally happened to us. Having said the above, the Caye Casas The Coffee Table does this and more and here the question should be asked, how do you tell something without telling anything? We are in the era of the potential spoiler, some are in favor, others against, and others the only thing that matters is causing debate with the above, A few films cause an uncomfortable or unpleasant effect on the viewer, and some know a lot and also those who do not know anything about what they are going to see, I remember that this media phenomenon occurred with 3 films, The Blair Witch Project (1999), Paranormal Activity (2007) and A Quiet Place (2018) where the attendees of a movie theater got involved with what they were seeing, making this experience something strategically planned and novel. We well know that an entire plot can develop from one idea that involves more subplots within a main one. Some are too elaborate and end up confusing us due to their lack of fluidity and because they want to tell everything in a very short time. Others are simple and easy to understand. See, how a fast and bold narrative that immediately puts us in context without us having to have any prior baggage, takes a moment and for a certain time shows us a series of events that end with a climate whether shocking or not. , the game of fortune telling and knowing in advance what is going to happen and how it is going to conclude has been very fashionable in recent years due to the lack of creativity of its filmmakers or the demands of the studios for wanting to earn more at the box office than by presenting something of quality. The Coffee Table redefines itself as a dramatic thriller with overtones of horror and no, it is not about a table possessed by some demon or that it represents something paranormal, it is simply how they define it at the beginning: "The "famous" Rörret coffee table with an unbreakable bronze tinted glass, a structure with an image of 2 beautiful ladies modeled in ivory and bathed in a perfect imitation of gold, a piece of Swedish design, so versatile that it can be used in the living room, in the bedroom or in any corner of the home where you want to give an elegant and designer look, with a terrible design and taste, it should be clarified, and it is intended to be the preferred table for having a coffee or an aperitif with our loved ones. , and he assures us that this table, due to its (awful) design and its level, will change our lives for the better and will bring us happiness at home." The above could not be further from the truth, a charlatan salesman who would do and say anything to sell his shit to an unsuspecting person who wants to buy it, and from this moment on things are going to change radically and not change their lives for the better and bring happiness to the home, but on the contrary, this is going to turn their worst nightmare into something real and it must be clarified that as María, her protagonist, says, "nothing is unbreakable." That being said, this horrible table will be the one that sets It tests the characters and impacts us as an audience. Many of us ask ourselves, how could a damn coffee table change my life for the worse? It is not the table in itself, it is everything that surrounds it, the tension of its characters that becomes increasingly deeper to the point where by an accident we verify that this unbreakable glass tinted in bronze causes a tragedy to a married couple in the that things are not going well at all, a husband who feels pressured by his partner who has already chosen everything, from the wedding day, what he and his mother will wear and even the decision to have a child and name him. Cayetano, which is the name of her grandfather, which he refers to as a tacky name, like a fascist bullfighter, and it is here that the first spark of black humor jumps when the seller mentions that he is also called Cayetano like his father, his grandfather, his great-great-grandfather and several more generations and the wife refers to this gentleman salesman as horrible and shabby like the little table, this already puts us in the context of what we are going to see later.

According to the reasoning and I agree that objects are very shabby, you have to treat them well and give them love, without a doubt one of the worst sales strategies, I have to say that while I saw that and listened to this monologue from the seller, I would have left before he ended up not buying the damn table and that the protagonist ends up buying out of pride, from this we move on to the opening credits that we see interspersed in the manual on how to assemble the table, following this we see the façade of the building, the protagonist raising the box and the presentation of the other characters, the neighbor (Cristina Dilla) who is the mother of a very unlovable 13-year-old girl named Ruth (Gala Flores) who continually threatens Jesús with incriminating him for pedophilia while he rejects her advances for confusing an act of kindness with a fictitious crush. The plot continues and Jesús and María continue arguing over the name of the child and other trifles that is when he notices that a screw is missing to be able to finish assembling the table and calls Cayetano to ask him to replace the missing one while talking to him he places the glass face up a detail that will take on vital importance, then María goes out to do some shopping to receive a visit from Carlos (Josep Maria Riera), Jesús's brother, and his wife Christina (Claudia Riera), leaving Jesús alone with the baby, the Father tries, by all means, to stop him from crying, up to this point everything seems to be going normally until in a shot that we do not see and with the camera fixed we hear a stumble, a blow, a glass breaking despite the seller's promise to decapitate the baby. The above is an act that we never see explicitly, we only see flying glass and something that falls under the chair that we assume and later they confirm that it is the head of little Cayetano in a masterful and cinematically well-realized shot and only 19 minutes have passed. minutes of the 91 minutes that the film lasts, from this moment on things will begin to take a sinister and terrifying turn for the protagonists and for us as viewers, since we know that it was an accident we ask ourselves the question: how can we explain what would have happened if we were in Jesus' place? the tension level goes from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds, then the scene follows where we see what happened, the table, the broken glass, blood on the carpet, and the small headless body while a children's song plays. The shots, the shots, and the cinematography from this fact do not show the cruelest moments, nothing is revealed in everything that refers to this, it is off-camera and it is up to the viewer to structure everything else in his mind. , this is undoubtedly planned and done premeditated because what the director seeks is for us as an audience to get 100 percent involved with the plot and the characters, everything here turns out to be unfair, cruel, and hard enough to face, in At this point it is no longer necessary nor is it necessary to graphically show what has happened and what is going to happen and as an audience we are a little more immersive, more empathetic, more pimped with what we are seeing, thinking and feeling, a discomfort that each of us will know how to drive. Talking more about what happens would be difficult to explain, it is each one who in the end will realize if what happened could happen to any of us or not if it has an extremist ending where all the subplots that have been handled In the script written by Cristina Borobia and Caye Casas himself, they succumb to an equally disturbing and uncomfortable fact, the handling of the information they have while there are visitors at home and María finds out what happened due to the insistence of Ruth's inflammable falsely accuse Jesus and his wife of having kissed her in the elevator of the building, and that everyone presents faces something unexpected and this ends abruptly with the brother in shock and inside a patrol car babbling things that make no sense to the others but that we We understand perfectly without him stopping to repeat, "the little dining room table" while in parallel we are told what happened to Mary and Jesus that a tragedy gives rise to a greater one. An unexpected closure in which we can already have the complete panorama and understand the reason for some shots that take on a singular and vital importance for everything else, at first we saw the building and the balconies, then how Jesus places the glass while he is assembling the table, we see that everything is going towards the same point where there will be a crossroads of all those small but very important stories as well as the development that each of the characters is having, we can appreciate the changes in mood, the fear, anguish, horror and we can assume that none of us, not even us, are prepared or can even think of something coherent that could happen so that all this can be understood and a solution can be found. We are faced with a Spanish dramatic thriller that offers us a simple but impactful proposal, a plot that develops with solvency in itself and drags us along with it to a very miserable point, risking everything for everything in favor of the script in which the Circumstances turn harmless dialogues into something deeper and more horrible that goes from the disagreement of buying the damn table to a simple interaction between María and a man in the supermarket who asks her about wine, every word that is exchanged is strategically planned to be ironic, sarcastic, in bad taste but never something comforting. It is here where we have revealed what the secret of success is in this film that confuses us due to its title and its advertising and this is that in itself it manipulates feelings and ideas by making its characters express their deepest emotions in a way that is too every day, we see horror coming because it is directly linked to the unknown that here is neither ethereal nor otherworldly nor are there serial killers or demons, or paranormal things, it is simply that an accident has occurred with devastating consequences that give way to something even more big and even more devastating. The fear that Casas handles seems so recognizable to us, so innately human that allowing us as the audience to be the ones to know this terrible secret before any of the other characters is an experience that has very rarely been carried so well and to this level in cinema. If we talk about large productions, it is seen and many times proven that less is more, that it is those simple things that show that creativity can have no limits and present things like this without having to resort to easy scares or structured special effects with CGI or to confuse us as an audience that we have to overthink things, no no, here everything is suggested and direct. It must be recognized that Caye Casas's cinema does not mess around or waste time with long and meaningless scenes, nor does it come to educate us with moral messages that love conquers everything, it is just that his cinema is like that, direct, crude, cruel, who can laugh at himself out loud and then take you to the limit with a fear of the horror that you must face, his personal and very successful touch is to make us feel uncomfortable, give us a bad time but at the same time have a good time With this and here we ask ourselves, why feel this way if the purpose of cinema is to entertain and make us have pleasant times? The answer to this could be so simple to say, let whoever wants to see it and that's it, but that's not the case, there is also the fact of seeing something that breaks with everything traditional to which we are already accustomed, that breaks those paradigms that they impose and with which we "must" entertain ourselves and accept that cinema has changed and evolved by rethinking its own rules and woe to those who want to break them because it will surely be a failure. Having said the above, perhaps there is a specific audience for this type of production that better understands what the filmmakers want to tell us and not a more general audience that only seeks to have a good time, that is not going to happen here, this is a work in The one where we want time to go faster and tell us what is happening, what they are doing, what they will do, how it will all end and this need for this to happen like this and so quickly is because it makes us feel uncomfortable. because we begin to overthink things that have nothing to do with the plot of the film but with our plot and history and it plays with us to do that sinister exercise of searching in the recesses of our mind for that dark secret, that thing that we made of which no one found out or whether it was on the contrary reliving the consequences of that or leaving undefeated to this day, maintaining it that way and pretending to everyone that although we are not perfect we have an image to take care of that we invented from that.

It is so uncomfortable that Casas puts us in the situation of the father or mother and asks us what we would have done in their place, perhaps this is a shameless mockery of all those films that do the same thing without even having a vestige of what is here. It turns out, and best of all, it leaves us with the implicit morbidity of wanting to see on another, more direct level what happened, to see how he stumbled and how the baby ended up decapitated, to see the body and head separated, to see what It happens at the end and I don't doubt that they are already setting their eyes on this either to take the idea and make it a more concrete remake or to copy and imitate this style but at once we can guess that no one could do it better than what they have done. made its director, it would not have the same effect because we already know what is happening, we already imagine it in the most atrocious ways, and seeing it explicitly would only satisfy that morbid curiosity that we have as spectators and that current cinema has left us. The same film suggests to us that even for a moment we are going to have a bad time. We perfectly accept and are aware of the disturbing situation in which we are placed as a spectator and this happens when we begin to empathize with its protagonist, whether we like it or not, we understand what has happened. past and make us complicit in an imaginary crime but one that carries a lot of truth in the things that happen in the real world. We cannot say that after having seen all this Casas is not a genius or a director who promises a lot and has everything to succeed as long as he remains faithful to his style, we cannot say that this type of work is the most common and that Anyone can do it, nor can we deny the genius with which it is narrated and the effect that this has on us and this is what modern and current cinema was missing, a watershed between what can and is allowed to be done with a very limited budget. and whatnot, but above all, select your audience very well and who you can reach. The cast is made up of David Pareja, Estefanía de los Santos, Josep Maria Riera, Claudia Riera, Eduardo Antuña, Gala Flores, Cristina Dilla, and Itziar Castro who do a spectacular job, understand their characters perfectly well and develop them to the level of what they the plot requires. The music composed by Esther Méndez (Bambikina) has simple chords that range from childish and simple to pieces that increase tension and suspense, chords that achieve symmetry between what we see and hear, a very good work that is at the level of what is required. In conclusion, The Coffee Table is a film that has rarely been seen, which makes us think that independent cinema has much more to offer and that this is where the future of cinema in this and other genres may lie. a work that marks a before and after, demonstrating that something bigger can come from a small and simple idea. Congratulations to its director and its entire creative team for giving us a clear and direct example that less is more. The Coffee Table is now available on the Prime Video platform. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB1lTSxB2j4 Read the full article

How a movies relevance over time is impacted by its connection to literature and bigger picture events from history

Photo- https://i0.wp.com/www.tor.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/Dracula-Castle.jpg?fit=490%2C%209999&crop=0%2C0%2C100%2C357px&quality=100

Question- What remains from old Hollywood today?

I think that over time, many things impact what is relevant and what is not, but certain films stand the test of time and are watched no matter what year it is. Different elements of different films become outdated over time, and film language and dialogue change as well. I think that there are specific genres and overall styles of movies that remain watched over time. I believe that something that impacts the relevance of films is when they are connected to a piece of literature or an event that has happened in history. When a film is tied to something else, the people who have either read the books or learned about the events will be more apt to watch the films. Films frequently have to have a unique quality or characteristic that makes them memorable and makes people want to watch it.

"The second characteristic is the fact that audiences differentiated films qualitatively in such a way that a small number of 'hit' films were disproportionately successful at the box office, resulting in a highly skewed distribution of global revenue" (Sedgwick).

Film one: Dracula (1931), Tod Browning and Karl Freund 

The first film that I think is an example of a film that remains relevant and is still watched through the years is Dracula. I believe that the genre and style of Dracula make it still relevant today. The genre of horror and fantasy, I think, is part of the reason that it has stayed relevant is because it is one that can be watched around Halloween time. Today, Horror movies are filled with much more special effects and are a lot gorier and darker than in the early 1900s. Dracula, although it is a horror movie, is more of a lighthearted horror movie.

 There are not a lot of "scary" parts, and I think people like to watch it today because it is different from "newer" horror movies. When Renfield first walks into Dracula's castle, it is set up to be a scary scene with the cobwebs and the bats flying over, but the overall feel of the scene is spookier; the light and gray sky makes it less scary. Additionally, when Count Dracula enters the room, his presence is powerful, and he is dressed in a "vampire outfit." It sets the scene that we should be scared of him, but I don't think that translates, and it might just be because we are used to seeing scarier things.

  The movie was based on the novel Dracula by Bram Stroker. The novel was published in 1897, and the movie was made close to 30 years later. The movie Dracula is still relevant today for a few reasons. I think that the novel plays into the relevance of the film because a lot of people read the novel in classrooms across different schools, and I believe that whenever a piece of literature is connected to a film, it keeps a movie relevant because novels and things that are taught and read regularly. Horror movies were prevalent when they were first filmed, and people were interested in them because they offered something different with a deeper plot as opposed to comedies and silent films.

  "Tod Browning's Dracula opened in February 1931, quickly followed by Frankenstein in December 1931. The box office success of these two films (Dracula alone brought in receipts of half a million dollars) set the demand for Universal Studios' series of 'monster movies' that were to frighten the cinema-going public of North America and Europe in Universal's Horror 1930s and 1940s" (Smith). 

  Dracula helped to change the idea of what horror films looked like going forward. I think that since Dracula set the standard as being the first "horror" film of its time, it helps it to remain relevant. When something is the first of something and is new and different, it proves to be popular because people like new and different things. 

  Film Two: The Bad and the Beautiful, 1952 Vincente Minnelli

  Another film that I watched that I think still stays relevant through time is The Bad and the Beautiful, 1952, directed by Vincente Minnelli. I think this film has remained relevant because it is based on something else previously. This film was based on a story in a magazine, and I believe that whenever films are based on something else, it just attracts more people from more places to it because there are many different reasons people could want to watch it. I think there is something very classic about The Bad and the Beautiful. It depicts an old Hollywood classic film with black and white, sophisticated wardrobes, and dialogue. I think that's what keeps people still watching it because it, in a sense, is timeless. Although not all the references and dialogue are still "relevant today," it does a great job of transporting people back to old Hollywood and showing people what life was like back then. In the movie, everyone is dressed very lavishly when they are on the stairs and getting ready. The dresses are elegant, and the overall scene is decadent and glamorous, which Hollywood was built on at this time. Additionally, there are shots throughout that show the style of the film, like when they are all in the car and sitting four in – a row dressed to the nines. It symbolizes what you think of when you think about "old" Hollywood.

  MGM Studios produced The Bad and the Beautiful, and at this time, MGM was trying to help the film industry branch out of the post-war film era and into the new space. The Bad and the Beautiful was one of the movies that helped branch out of wartime films and many of the life and death storylines used in this period. I think this was one of the reasons that the movie has been popular for so long: it was a refreshing film that offered people a new perspective. 

  "After a prewar period of relative stability that in Movie-Made America Sklar famously termed "the golden age of order," the American film industry faced the challenges of World War II and then a postwar period of change and uncertainty. The great Hollywood self-portraits of the early 1950s, Billy Wilder's Sunset Blvd.(1950) and Vincente Minnelli's The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) are fraught with images of death, as well as moral and physical decay" (Giovacchini). 

I think plenty of examples of things like these movies have been adapted for a newer audience today. In 1992, a newer Dracula film was released, adapted directly from Bram Stoker's novel. This film featured way more elaborate special effects and gory horror scenes, as well as bigger and flashier overall. I feel like this is a common trend nowadays where old classic films are being re-made in bigger and better fashions. Another film that has been adapted a few times over the years is West Side Story 2021. West Side Story first started as a Shakespeare play (Romeo and Juliet) and was adapted into a Broadway show and, most recently, a movie remake by Stephen Spielberg. Overall, I think when movies are based on something that already has an audience and is adapted into a film, it has a better chance of staying relevant, which can be seen today with quite a few movie remakes- The Little Mermaid and Willy Wonka are a couple.

 Link

https://blog.streetwriters.co/films-and-literature/

Request for beta readers!

Hello loves!  The time has finally, mostly, come for me to need a few more sets of eyes on my beloved work in progress!

A little bit about my project for those that may be interested below the cut!

Hidden Report is an approximately 89,000 word novel in progress that is presently in its third draft.  The actual genre of it is still in flux, but it is likely best described as an adult m/m romance novel.

What’s it about?

The blurb for the novel is still needing some tweaking and fixing as well, but generally speaking seems to hit some key points for it.  Take a peek:

At 24 years old, Ashura Kokuei has already made waves at Kuroi Ki, a world renounced criminal investigation agency, as he followed in the footsteps of generations of his family in becoming an Agent and climbing through their ranks at high speed. Despite feeling secure in work and life, it all comes crashing down as he is given an assignment that he knows well and good that he shouldn’t be. An assignment that he knows is only step one of a plot occurring behind the scenes, but with no way of proving it.

Ash finds himself further thrown for a loop when the very assignment he was dreading leads him to meeting Faysal Zennz, a friend of the family he was tasked to work with against his will. Ash doesn’t know what to make of it when all of his defenses are met with smiles and kind words, despite the enigmatic man having every reason to run. Even as he fights against it, there is no denying the growing attraction between the two of them.

 Even as Ash decides to give love a chance with the handsome stranger, the wheels of time continue to turn. Ash must come to terms with the fact that trust is hard to come by, and Faysal is hiding a secret that could be the difference between life and death. Can their blooming romance survive through deceit and bloodshed?

Are there any themes I need to worry about?

As far as trigger warnings go, there is swearing, violence, sex, kidnapping and death in this novel.

What will be expected of me as a beta reader?

I promise I'm not too demanding! I'm primarily wanting to know if there are any issues with the plot - is it clear what is happening, is it dragging, are there plot points you want to know more about as a reader? Pacing and wording feedback would be fantastic as well. Any other types of feedback would be welcome as well, but not necessarily expected!

My hope would be to have feedback from all betas by the end of May as I hope to start the transition into draft four around then.

Where would I be reading and providing feedback?

This depends. Presently I am using Google docs for my beta readers, but I may switch to a new platform depending on how many readers there are. I am also in the process of creating a discord that readers can interact on and discuss issues or thoughts a bit more unrestricted, as well as have more interaction and easier ability to ask me anything they need to.

What do I get out of this?

My undying love? To be serious though, you get to read the novel early and possibly influence what it'll look like in its final draft! I also hope to do something special for my betas down the line, but that plan is also a work in progress!

That is it I think! If you have any questions or are interested in becoming a beta reader, just comment, send an ask, etc and I'll get you all set up!

Happy reading!

GOD DAMN IT I'm so done with Emily Axford I try not to be a hater on main but every decision she makes in D20 seasons pisses me off so fucking much god damn it I want to break something

and I feel like there's something I'm missing cause everyone ACTS like she's a great storyteller but the off theme choices she makes keep building up and building up and I'm fucking sick of it

FUCK IT I'm gonna rant, sorry everyone

Fig: this character is a satire of teen rebellion. Fig is consistently an asshole to everyone around her with no regard to how her actions affect other people's emotional state. which is intentional, and a fine flaw for a character to have. But she never grows to differentiate good rebellion from bad, forcing Brennan to work himself in knots to not make her arc's theme 'teenagers with trauma are cruel assholes who need to learn how to behave' because that theme sucks

Lady Featherfowl: great start to a character. asshole party animal from a middling family. love it. BUT OH NO PLOT TWIST she's actually one of the good nobles who fell in love with a commoner and now demands the ability to simultaneously enjoy her elevated position and continue to love the mortal who's subject to her and her peers' whims

Sundry Sydney: not too many criticisms tbh, I like her. except that her story arc felt entirely disconnected from the other players. her being part of a crew didn't really thematically contribute, Emily just very clearly had a story she wanted to tell, and when that story got wrapped up too she took the first plot point Brennan threw her way and made Sydney all about that

Sophia Lee: it's been a while since I watched UC s2 tbh, don't remember what happened. Sophia is fine for the most part, I just don't really find her relatable or compelling to watch

Little Red: playing a pre-teen in the horror season? really? it doesn't help that the character barely does anything to play to the genre. and there's so many little moments this season that made me fully stop watching. EMILY WANTS little red to go on this weird puberty/accepting death metaphor thing where she becomes death, but is clearly uncomfortable giving that any moral weight. She's yet to struggle against characters who don't want to die, and, ironically, the most morally bad 'deaths' they've contended with are the death of death.

spoilers for newest ep btw

and then AND THEN little red has her Baba Yaga trial. some vauge mention about going to kill some chickens for dinner. perfect. PERFECT. Reds going to have to face the core conflict of her arc. How do people relate to death, when it can be both tragic and good? How do we understand it without minimizing the tragedy, and how do we mourn it without rejecting its necessity.

And my first thought was simple. Make sure the chickens don't want to die. give them voices, make her roll, just give off the vibe, whatever. but make it clear that in order for little red to 'succeed,' in order for her to accept her role as death or whatever the fuck, she also has to accept the cruel, unyielding, and dark part of it.

perfect little scene. she doesn't? great setback on her quest to self realization. she has a new specific topic to grapple with, and immediate, material conflict. She does? her character has become morally ambiguous in a tangible way, and her companions and the narritive need to wrestle with that. sometimes people die too young. sometimes people die tragic, unnecessary deaths.

But then. BUT THEN. Brennan hits her with the path. boom mirror of where you started. great. THERES LITTLE RED, STILL LITTLE. oh my god, amazing. and I instantly had an idea, but wasn't sure if they would go through with it. Have grandma's house look a loooot like a chicken coop. cause Emily has cast red as a fusion of the protagonist and antagonist of her own story. at the end of this scene, the antagonist side will dominate. so the story seems clear. Red has to kill someone else's grandma. she's hungry, or out of obligation, or for her friends, whatever. but if she's the wolf now, if she's DEATH, then the trial should be obvious.

instead, she goes for an nice walk, makes it clear that her conflict is still accepting death of a loved one, then meeting a grandma who died peacefully and happily, and who is happy to see her.

then the icing on the fucking cake? she has zero conflict with the actual chicken slaughtering part. it's a joke where she brutally kills more than necessary.

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!

you don't get to pull a heartfelt scene where you struggle with the tragedy of death, where you act as gentle ferry for souls that have reached their appointed time, then go *hehe I'm a wolf omnomnom I love to kill*

it's just such a rejection of the actually important part of the scene. no even vauge attempt to tie the two INCREDIBLY THEMATICALLY RELATED actions together at all.

litterally I so often have to pause D20 episodes cause one of the players pulls some shit like this and it rips a part of me out. the part of me that's invested, that wants this story to mean something feels crushed whenever this shit happens.

D20 is great. I love it. dropout is the only subscription service I pay for rn. but in its exceptional quality, it's proven to me that tabletop rpgs just simply don't work as a proper medium for storytelling, at least not the traditional GM / Player structure.

again. sorry for the rant