#bai you brilliant writer

[cheollipop]

bai, you--- I- we.... ??!!

you see, I knew this was going to be soft. of course I did -- it's san and the tags are right there. however, I did not expect it to turn me into puddle of tears and snot on my bedroom floor. I... bai, I'm- *deep breath* every single word, every single description left me with this unbearable warmth rushing through me like a hurricane (I seriously had to take off my hoodie)- it's so gentle, so delicate, and I don't know how I'm supposed to just move on with my life after reading this masterpiece.

now, for some of my favourite parts~~ (bc tumblr won't let me add all of them ;-;)

I'm sorry but you need to chill- "found not in four walls, but in this gentleman" had me gripping my plushie for dear life because GOD- this kind of love, this adoration.... I can only imagine how safe it must feel.

AGAIN WITH THE DESCRIPTIONS!?!?!?! this sentence has me in a chokehold. I'm painting the words all over my bedroom wall first thing tomorrow. I want to BE these words, INHALE them, make them a permanent part of me.

and what if I cried real tears rn. the dialogue.... cheeky!san needs to think about my sanity for second because THIS- the smut was so insanely soft and just the most perfect model of "lovemaking"... I held my breath for quite a while because I was so immersed in just how much love is shared between the two of them.

just the visual of him looking up at reader so fondly and SMILING??............ I'm okay. everything is okay (pov: I'm a liar)

my heart skipped a beat. I'm not even joking, oh my god. BAI- this is beyond soft, beyond beautiful.... I can't even form a meaningful sentence to describe the way I'm feeling right now, the way this specific piece of dialogue made me feel. it's like a warm hug, followed by a gentle squeeze and a pat on the head. just a cocoon of warmth that I wish to wrap myself in forever.

we'll take the pen... and write it....

bai, I don't know what to say tbh. I feel so overwhelmed with all these emotions, and I'm hugging my plushie so tight rn I feel bad for him </3

I am resisting the urge to email the louvre and demanding they section off a whole room to display this work of art. I might just build my own museum and plaster your whole masterlist all over it. free access to the public because everyone should be allowed to feel this content and warm after reading your work.

this is yet another breathtaking fic, bai, and I hope you know that I will never be able to express just how much I love your writing -- words are simply not enough anymore. <3<3 (but I will try my very best~~)

Golden hour

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR MOUNT'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🟡 pairing: bf!san x fem!reader 🟡 genre: smut, pwp, a lot of fluff, established relationship 🟡 summary: in the busy urban jungle, one fateful night at a jazz bar, choi san met his angel of light. from then on, each moment is a breathtaking golden hour, your love a wondrous duet. 🟡 wordcount: 6.5k 🟡 warnings/tags: loving bf san, jazzman!san, you are the apple of his eye, trumpet player, two lovebirds making it in the big city, discussion of marriage, discussion of planning for the future, yes he wants a future with you, late night coffee, being goofy, lots of hugs+heart eyes, lmk if I missed anything! 🟡 a/n: presently in the middle of being a san appreciator and listening to a lot of jazz, which resulted in quite a few song references being interlaced in this ahah; thank you so much for your support, any reblogs, comments, thoughts always appreciated!~

🟡 perma-taglist: @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar  @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez @toxicccred

🟡 nsfw tags: switch!san/the softest dom!san, switch!reader, the sheer volume of pet name use (sweetheart, darlin', love, angel, my light, my sun...), slight(?) hints at exhibitionism, light nipple play, lovebites/hickeys (giving/receiving), fingering, oral (f!recieving), handjob, hugging during sex, slow and steady, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, riding, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that pls), cum inside, soft and gentle aftercare

Enchanted by the ghostly wisps of steam rising from the cooling rich mahogany brew, twirling into the barren nightscape until they were nothing more than echoes of a magical breath, you waited. You were tired of conversing with the shadow stretched before you,  from the sun-like lamp light rays that hopped from the window at the top of the stairs all the way down. So you sat there, between the fourth and the fifth floors of your apartment complex, studying the circular holes in the steps that had become your rocking chair for reminiscing. At nights like these, you took things slow, and let yourself sink into an intimate fragility. Only you and the remnants of a busy late night shift. The hair and skin, which even after bathing seemed to cling onto most, if not the entire bouquet of aromas from the bar; the hands, still bearing the traces of coolness from having heaped buckets of ice into overpriced drinks; the faded eyeshadow, the lipstick - most of it transferred to the mug of coffee, steadily approaching lukewarm, cradled in your hands. Habitually, you traced its rim, feeling for the chip in the ceramic that it sported like a scar, after you had accidentally dropped it on the counter. Its presence was grounding. A reminder that you existed in a world beyond the endless cycles. That sometimes, the unpredictable could happen to you too.

You found companionship in the fluorescent light perched above a sign that attempted, but failed to remind the locals not to litter, and the miniature exhibition of waste backs collected right below it. This scene, viewed from so many metres above, was almost poetic. It was endearing seeing the last hints of humour that your neighbours managed to retain despite the bleakness of the complex and its surroundings. Windows facing brick walls and going grey from smog, a cacophonic roar drilling into the ear drums from the ceaseless chatter of clubbers and late night diners ambling down the nearby wonders of nightlife. The flickering, leaking neon signs above business either long-closed for the day, or just beginning to awaken were practically pitiful, and yet, you could not help but feel a twinge of sentimentality when your mind traversed the area, reminding you of any changes you had spotted, new faces, new flyers; these were the only things that, without fail, would greet you as you walked back home in your midday, another’s time for deepest slumber. Perhaps one would think you were alone or lonely in this hour, remaining out of dreamland solely to tomorrow’s disillusionment. But to anyone who would dare propose something so ridiculous, one look at the smile that graced your lips as soon as you spotted a familiar figure making its way down the courtyard, and stopping to wave at you - knowing full well that you were sat at the stairwell, would be enough to cut any argument at its root. While he was not someone who you came home to often, despite you having lived together for what was about to be a year, Choi San was the music that soothed your soul, the sweetest song, the melody of your heart. He was there for you, and you were there for him. Even if that meant turning into a nocturnal creature, conversing aimlessly with a cuppa into the early hours.

You closed your eyes and counted his steps. Both of you had made it something of a routine to avoid the main entrance. Initially it had been as a joke and as a means to flee from the permanently vexed madam in her seventies who lived on the ground floor, shrill voice and a shivering, bitey pooch cooped up and cradled like baby; she had seen the two of you in states deemed dissatisfying in her view, and as such had turned into a guardian of the complex. A guardian from two young fools who lived to the fullest. In an adoring duet, you had found paths to your comfort, and soon enough, the emergency stairs were an ascension to your palace - shared paradise spanning a couple of rooms. 

San’s resolved, confident steps as he made his way up the stairwell, skipping the second, avoiding the worn down centre of the step between the first and second floors; it was so worn down, in fact, that on some nights when the moon caught this side of the building just right, it was like a fallen star. You grinned to yourself as you recalled this theory. That star worked hard on giving you your wish; the wish whose slicked back, jet black locks you could already detail in your line of sight. As he made the last turn, you gripped your mug tighter; somehow, even after years of knowing this man, of loving this man, San never failed to ignite the warmest, cosiest flame within your soul. The home you had dreamed of, found not in four walls, but in this gentleman, who was now standing before you, hand outstretched and a gentle smile on his face. You graciously accepted the assistance, and let yourself be lifted off the ground with a light pull, to come face to face with your boyfriend. Your precious, funny valentine, with a heart of gold.

“Hey, darlin’, now, I told you the gig was gonna run ‘til late, why’re you up? And with your coffee?” he drawled as he searched for a place to put the case for the second most precious aspect of his life: his trumpet, settling on a nook closer to the inner railing - protected on all sides from a fall. You hummed, and took another cautious sip, studying the man before you.

Despite having woken up at the crack of dawn to walk you to your second job before commuting to his own, there was still that inextinguishable glint in his magnificent dark eyes. Feeling your gaze on him, San rolled his shoulders back, as though he had not a hint of weariness in his muscles, accidentally forcing one side of his favourite jacket, a vintage brown piece made of corduroy, to slip and commence its slow climb down his upper arm. Sighing, you twisted to set your cup aside on one of the stair steps, and made a move to fix it back in place, ignoring the way in which San's hands rapidly snaked to your waist.

"Mm, missed you Sannie." You responded, smoothing the non-existent creases on the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath, your touches lingering as if you had not rested your form on his chest thousands of times, each occasion imprinted in your memory for as long as there was music.

"I missed you more, Y/N…” his eyes darted a couple of times to your hands, only to slowly rise, and focus on the black top that you had chosen to change into after your workday. San exhaled, amused as he imagined you waddling around the apartment wrapped up in that fleece towel you liked, ready to raid the wardrobes. Taking the very edge at the base of the article between his thumb and index finger , he toyed with it, and stated as a matter of factly: “I can see you're stealing my shirts again."

"Well… I can take it off…" you trailed off, moving to undo the very top button, stifling a giggle as San instantly dropped his act and pinched the collar together. He shook his head, gaze glossed over, unreadable. His other hand inched a little closer to your hip, sliding down - a barely noticeable change, but it nevertheless sent sparks across your skin and left you struggling to breathe.

"Uh-uh, that's for my eyes only. Can't have you flaunting something priceless for the whole block." tugging on the shirt, he guided you into his arms and wrapped himself around you, taking in the smell of home. The aroma of his gift that was today, the promise that was tomorrow, and the dream that was the symphonies of a future to come.

It was surreal, the moment he came home. Be it to wait for your shift to end while he tried to get a simple dinner cooking on the stove, or to have you waiting, just like this, curled up on the stairs, every bit a cat basking in the warm glow that resembled the sunset in its hue, falling down the steps from the window of your, and his apartment. As he stood in front of you, etching your form into his memory as if each time he saw you you were someone new, he imagined what it would be like to truly come back at sundown. Have dinner earlier than midnight, spend the evening chatting away about this and that, hidden under a woollen throw that you had found at a thrift store. Let the last rays of the sun, departing to its sleeping quarters, wash over the two of you as you would hold one another in a long, loving embrace, rocking to the ballads only you knew and shared. Sometimes he wondered whether what he played outside of this magical golden hour that was ‘you and him’ was truly music, when all the melodies to divine adoration played in your caresses. Whether the words he sang held any meaning if they were not dedicated to you, sung to you. Whether the sultry notes of the trumpet were anything but noise if you were not there to hear it. 

Crash landed into the big city, he had been a boy with stars in his eyes and boundless ambition. He had wanted to fight the world alone, head on, and had no feel for the rhythm of the metropolis, its people, its jazz scene. He had assumed that he was wanted, and oh, how wrong he had been. Rejection after rejection, San had found himself playing on the streets for a couple of bills to last the day, and had run into a debt with a cruel landlord - so large, that he had considered turning to less conventional solutions. But then, by some stroke of luck, he had met other musicians who were dreamers, warriors of the arts, those with impeccable feel for every note, every off-beat both in the pieces they would cover or improvise, as well as life. Just like that, San had found himself a band, and by the grace of destiny itself, he had found himself performing at a bar, the bar, where he had the boundless joy of meeting you. 

An old hole in the wall in the middle of downtown, it had been your first place of work since moving in more central from the outskirts. Having been on the scene for a lot longer than him, sweeping, cooking, mixing - anything you could get your hands on, you knew practically all the artists around town, thanks to your appreciation of their life’s essence in the form of jazz and their habitual lingering around the bar to chat after a show. As such, a new face had immediately caught your eye, and there, your gaze stayed. All through the night. All through his impeccable covers of Chet Baker’s ‘I Fall In Love Too Easily’ and ‘Like Someone In Love’, during both of which you swore you had never felt yourself being regarded with more intensity. All through the years in which you had come to move in a shared rhythm, existing in a gentle swing, cheek to cheek. For the first time, you felt as though you were staring right into the sun, but instead of tears rolling down your cheeks and agony spreading over your body, your vision cleared and new hope settled.

This rhythm did not falter. Even when some notes were played with their respective delays or anticipations, this was all a wondrous interpretation of life as a duet that was you and your favourite, your only, beloved San, trumpet player, singer, an artist through and through. The man with a dream and the resolve to achieve it. You had promised to one another that one of these days, you will see yourselves as the makers of a new oasis. Your own corner in the glimmering canyons of steel to serve as a sunny safe haven for jazzists from all walks of life. You as the owner of the new Blue Note, him as the first man on the stage. This was the future towards which you both strode, and alongside it, a heavenly devotion bloomed.

As you rocked in a sweet embrace, it was impossible to imagine anything more right. Arms around his torso and hidden from the nighttime breeze by his jacket, you sank into San’s reassuring heartbeat and loving warmth. Caught in a trance, he pressed you impossibly close as though he had not seen you in an agonising ‘forever’, and ran his fingers through your hair while a hand rested on the back of your head. The brilliant, cascading tresses that still retained some of the aroma of the cordials and syrups you often used at your job, despite the top notes being yours, and consequently, his favourite shampoo. He admired the way in which it reflected the sunset captured in the apartment, only half a flight away, a golden luminescence that made him all the more convinced that this was where the glowing, comforting star had found safety to rest. After walking through the town that was enveloped in dark hues, passing by dingy shops and streets in dire need of tender love and care, he could not help but feel blessed that all that time ago, the sun had risen for him, and all he had the pleasure of experiencing was brighter, lighter, and any trials and tribulations were merely a simple test. He fondly recollected your first meeting, having purposefully made a detour on his journey back to walk past the location that marked the beginning of your history.

“We played at a club a couple of blocks from that place tonight.”

“Where we met?” you asked, nuzzling into the crook of San’s neck and relishing in his soft hum as he continued.

“Mhm. Actually, I walked past it while going home.”

“And?” you inquired, pulling away to glance at San’s cheeky lopsided grin.

“Made me walk faster.” you raised an eyebrow, only making your boyfriend chuckle, the honey-like tone never failing to induce a thrilling flurry in your chest.

“Damn, is it that run down?”

San imitated a pondering stance, looking off to the side before returning to study your very irises, with such attentiveness that you thought he was in a world of his own. And in a way, he was. He was convinced that, for as long as he lived, San’s best view would be exactly this. These eyes that had hypnotised him as they followed his figure from across the bar, these gorgeous orbs that held the moon, the stars, the songs sung and unsung. No matter where he went and no matter what new challenge life threw at him, all he needed was to imagine you and suddenly, everything would fall into place. The young man moved to press his forehead against yours, a strand of hair that grazed his eyebrow tickling your face and causing you to scrunch your nose. The adorable reaction proved to be too much for San’s poor enamoured heart as it skipped a beat, and in an attempt to subdue the overwhelming ache he rubbed his nose against yours.

“Nope, just made me want to see you even more.” he spoke low, focusing only on your shallow, lightly trembling breaths and the intoxicating feeling of his skin against yours. 

“Can you see me now?” you joked, hinting at your closeness, hands moving to graze his sides, trailing down until you could tap his alluring waist with your fingertips, stepping forward until you were practically hip to hip and you could feel the friction of his navy jeans against your skirt.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I think I need to get a little closer…” in one cautious trailing of the jawline, he cupped your face, waited for a tiny nod from you to proceed - something he had always subconsciously done when it came to loving you, and what little space had been left between your bodies was no longer.

Tenderly, like early mist settling on the dazzling midnight sea, he worshipped you with every move. Lost in a sigh, in softest caresses, you indulged in the sweetness of his precious lips, fitting so perfectly with your own. While you had not been a believer in soulmates, the only way in which you could describe the idyllic nature of your coexistence was that it was meant to be. It was as if, even though you had your respective, independent melodies, they oh so seamlessly flowed into one, body and soul. San kissed you as though you were life itself, at such a slow, sultry tempo and yet it set your soul ablaze, caught up in a wild wind. Lost in exploring your lover, you only realised how he gingerly lifted the shirt at its base when his arms brushed against yours, causing you to snicker right against him. Immediately you could feel him retract his tongue and lean back to look at you. Your eyes fluttered open after having automatically given themselves up to a sensory bliss, only to be met with San’s signature pout that was dramatically contrasted by an enticing darkness in his half-lidded orbs.

“What…” he whined barely audibly, only making your smirk deepen.

“Now what about that ‘show’ you were talking about, hm?”

“My shirt, my business.” he attempted to dive back into a kiss, digging his fingers into your sides when you tilted your head back and chuckled.

“My lips, my business.”

“Awh darlin’ don’t tease.” he batted his eyelashes, gaze darting around your face to catch any signs of caving in to his charms. However, even if he tried his hardest, his searches would amount to nothing at all, for you would not be able to get mad at his cute face even if you wanted to. As such, your facade soon dropped and you were seeking him once more.

“Don’t be bossy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good- Choi San put me dow-” you yelped as he stepped to the side, and with mischief flashing across his face, hooked you under the knees and supported your back, sweeping you off your feet for good. Careful not to let you hit the stairs, San’s strong arms held you tight against his chest, and he smiled down to give you a cheeky retort.

“Don’t be bossy~” playfully shaking your head, you let your hands find themselves loosely hanging from his neck, and gave into the addictive fiery pecks that he was leaving on your cheek, across your jaw, only to culminate in a deeper, ravishing kiss, punctuated by an unmistakable undercurrent of sensual longing. As your passion ascended into a crescendo, and the heat rising in your bodies was elevating into being unbearable, San breathlessly whispered the shared desire against your reddened lips:

“It’s time to quit stalling, methinks. Yeah?”

“Sounds fine by me.” you agreed, not fearful of sounding eager. Though apparently, that was not enough. While San dipped you forwards, eliciting a giggle and a compliant hooking of the trumpet case with your finger, he tried to correct you.

“Now, fine won’t do.” giving you another quick peck on your cheek, he began climbing towards the fifth floor, though you were certain that he was spending more time studying you than checking if he was stopping at the right level. Not bothering to mention the mug that had been abandoned, concluding that the beverage was always going to be nothing compared to the energy this wondrous love of yours gave you, you simply gave into the boisterous affection.

“Mighty fine.”

“A little better…” he mumbled back while stepping through the open window into your piece of urban heaven.

“Gonna have to work for any more than that, darling.”

“A challenge?”

“An invitation.”

The phrase almost made him falter as he attempted to gather at least some form of coherence before the submitting to your priceless seduction. Setting you back down onto the floor only to return to his hold of your waist, he shadowed your movements as you set the case down. At the first given opportunity, your boyfriend focused and nipped at the sensitive skin right above your exposed collarbone, one hand rising to hastily unbutton the shirt as you gasped at the contact and in a daze, rushed to tug at his jacket. Promptly, the article found itself on the floor, soon joined by the black shirt that you had borrowed and leaving your chest entirely exposed.

Entranced, San let himself be guided by you to the bedroom as he cupped one of your breasts and ran languid circles across the nipple, while catching you once more in a feverish kiss. Upon hearing the hint of a moan, muted by his own mouth, he inadvertently bucked his hips against you, the pressure on the growing arousal making him needy, and desperate for more touch. Stumbling down the corridor, you felt for the doorframe of the bedroom, stopping right underneath and running your hands under San’s black tee and up his abdomen. He obeyed your unspoken wish and gave you the pleasure of watching him undress, the divine, sculpted lines and edges of his body, muscles working overtime under his beautiful sunkissed skin, all in a magnificent dance. Before you could indulge in him once again, you felt a couple of pulls on the fabric of your skirt, and soon enough the elastic band had given in, and rolled down to let the material pile on the floor around you.

San guided your two hazy forms to the bed, hissing as you trailed kisses up his neck, to the side and nipped at his earlobe, your erratic, shallow breaths nearly sending him into a frenzy. Burning skin, each touch turned scalding making heat pool to your core; you saw stars as your boyfriend slipped his hand into your panties and ran two digits across your dripping sex to collect some of the nectar, before starting to rub your aroused clit, teasing it as you shot out to grab a hold of his upper arms for some illusion of stability. Whispering sweet nothings against your skin he laid you down onto the bed sheets; you could swear they had retained some of the warmth where the sun had hit them during its routinely finale, orange streaks stalking across the apartment. Nuzzling into San's neck you muffled your whines by turning your attention to making this moment bloom, lovebite after lovebite.

"Ah… Y/N…" he sighed, voice husky as he shifted in his half-lying posture in an attempt to get at least some friction. As he flicked your clit and glided two fingers into your entrance, curling them exactly how he knew it would drive you closer to your high, you dug your nails into his biceps to resist a tremble and uttered:

"My man, my business."

"Yours, all yours, darlin', just as you're mine." 

"Mhm, ah, San, I'm- cl-" you moaned as he increased his rhythm, the wanton sounds of his digits pumping into your pussy only accelerating you to your orgasm.

"Close? Already, sweetheart?" You could sense a hint of pride in his tone, but could not form any snarky comment, thoughts turned to mush.

"Too good to me, love…"

"Now, now, and I wanted to make you feel even better…" he chided jokingly, lifting your lower half ever so slightly from the bed to slip the wet panties off fully, not once taking his eyes off yours. You tried to reach for his jeans, the erection so painfully obvious that all you could wish for was to give San at least some relief, but to no avail as he intercepted by taking a hold of your wrist, kissing your knuckles lovingly and simply requesting: “Lie back for me, darlin’, won’t you?”

Of course you would not disagree, not when you felt an emptiness from where his fingers had denied you a complete release, leaving your walls clenching around nothing, and desperation approaching an all-time high. Eagerly, you crawled and fell back on the bed, watching his figure follow you until he was hovering dangerously close, clouded over with lust. After resting his hands on your knees and then, at a deliberately slow pace, sliding them down your inner thighs for you to part your legs wider for him, he lowered himself to devour you. Placing a long kiss on your sensitive clit while holding your legs in place so you were in his temporary control, he ran his hot tongue along the length of your fold, stopping to give the bud extra attention with dedicated licking, and sucking until you were melting into the sheets and the only thing escaping your mouth were pathetic moans laced with his name and praises. As if you had been blinded by the sun, you ceased to see any definition in the world around you as your climax crashed down hard and fast, leaving you shaking and crying out for your boyfriend, who, after leaving a tentative trail of open-mouthed kisses on your pulsating core and on each of your thighs, rose to hook you under your back.

“You’re so beautiful, my love…” he cooed as he wrapped you up in a long hug, careful to let you ride out your high in the safety of his arms. He bit his lower lip as your leg accidentally grazed his clothed cock, only to squeeze his eyes shut when the action prompted him to taste you once again, sending his mind into an overdrive.

As you returned to a brighter lucidity, you gingerly fiddled with the button on San’s jeans, and proceeded to free him of their confines with the lowering of the zipper. Unable to restrain yourself from feeling the hardness of his length, you palmed it through the cotton briefs that were already showing traces of his pre-cum, and pulled down the waistband to let it spring free.

“Oh, San, please, why wait so long, you must be so on edge, I’m sorry baby…” you mumbled, lifting your hand to collect some spit, then wrapping it around his member. Instinctively his hips bucked towards you as you pumped him, barely registering how close San’s face was to yours.

“‘s alright, Y/N, but if you could… mh… kiss it better? May I?”

“Of course.”

You could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his lips and tongue, but only momentarily as he hungrily explored you. Low grunts and breathy moans fell from his mouth, only to be swallowed by your newly blooming desire for more. Deepening the kiss, you absorbed his moan as you sped up the movements of your other hand. Unable to resist the building frustration any longer, San brushed your arm and tilted his head back to show you his eyes - glazed over, full of raw want.

“I need you.”

“How?”

“I need your pussy, sweetheart.” you slowed down, teasing the tip of his cock as he gripped your hips, a coy smile dancing across your features.

“Didn’t you just have it?”

“Not enough, it seems.”

“I think we can do something about that… tell me how you want me.”

“Ride me.”

“Be my guide.”

Nodding, moved to the edge of the bed on his knees, and slid down until he was in a seated position. He motioned for you to come closer, helping you understand his wish. Raising yourself from how you had been positioned, you crept towards your boyfriend, cautiously throwing a leg over his lap until your core was millimetres away from his throbbing member. San’s hands found your ass and gave you a few nudges towards him, while you ran your fingers through his dishevelled locks, a shy smile gracing you as you thought back to how pristine he had managed to look when he had been in the stairwell. Now, he was perfect. When you tapped him to suggest your readiness, San took his cock to slot it into your entrance and with a couple of adjustments, he bottomed out inside you. Sighs combined into a single, intimate breath as his length pressed against your walls, and you rose into an unimaginable euphoria.

Foreheads pressed against one another, neither of you wanted to rush, instead succumbing to a darkness behind your eyelids and focusing exclusively on the other senses. How your inhales and exhales were equally as shallow, how the light tinge of sweat had mixed with the dark accords of his perfume - one that, after having made the step to live together, now almost permanently lingered on your skin, how the contact was every bit like being wrapped in the golden glow of a sunset. You peeked at San, catching him still in a trance, and admired how the light from the ceiling lamp out in the corridor highlighted his sharp and alluring features, all contrasted by the softest, plushest lips which you gave into the instinct to peck. 

Your boyfriend gazed up at you, breaking into a heart-melting smile. Little did you know, he was counting his blessings and had to consciously remind himself that somehow you were not a sun goddess. Perhaps in disguise. You were the melody he would never get tired of hearing, the dawn and dusk that he would always greet and cherish. His muse and guiding light.

“My sun…” he pecked your cheek, flicking his nose against it while restraining himself from acting rashly. Not tonight. Tonight was all about you and him. Together.

“The light of my life…” kissing the other cheek, he groaned as you grinded your hips to have your chest almost flush against him.

“My Y/N,” “My San,”

You whispered in unison, looking at one another with an unequivocal tenderness and adoration. Two seamlessly blending into one, you did not need the days to guide you. Existing in a glittering bliss, before either of you was an angel of light. Truthfully, there need not be anything more. Only the sound of jazz to give you rhythm, and the radiance of your mutual enamourment. 

As you began to ride his member, you took immeasurable pleasure in seeing San’s face contort into that of ecstasy. The fluidity of the motion rivalled that of waves that lapped the distant shores of a paradise. The oncoming bubbling of a climax that threatened to drown you in a sensual unravelling left you lost at sea, with only the rays of your favourite star enveloping you. Rocking your hips, you felt his cockhead hitting your ideal spot over and over, and whenever you would need a break, he would soothe you with a feathery touch. 

The leisurely pace proved to be a build up to unfathomable ruin, as the clenching of your pussy around his hard length left San’s thoughts in a total disarray. He could not register the most basic things around him, jutting into you without a single decipherable word spilling from his lips. He gripped onto you harder, silently begging you to take him deeper, faster as his high became more imminent and he could barely hold on.

“Darling, you’re… I-I swear…”

“Ah… yes? What?”

“Can I? Please, love…”

“Yes, Sannie, please- ah!” he thrusted his hips with a newfound vigour, practically lifting you to give himself space to accelerate. The sudden change of pace sent curls of pleasure to the knot that had been building in your core, leaving you like putty in San’s hold.

“Fuck yes, Sa-an-ie… please…” lewd moans filled the bedroom as his member snapped into you with the exact beat that would send you into a frenzy. Falling apart over him, your pants rapidly turned into high-pitched whines as you could feel yourself approaching the edge to your undoing.

Just as he began to falter, you fell between his head and shoulder, shaking as another orgasm overtook you. The spasming of your sex sent him into uncontrollable pleasure and with a final few snaps of the hips, San kept you still on his cock as hot ropes of cum painted your inner walls. Embracing you like you were the most fragile being on the Earth, he glanced at you even in his half-consciousness to check if you were comfortable. Elated when you returned his regard with an elated grin, San beamed right back, giving you a quick peck before hugging you even tighter, attempting to slow his breathing while his length was still pulsating, surrounded by a divine warmth.

“So unreal… so, so marvellous, Y/N.” that seemed to reel you back from the wonderfully overwhelming sensation, and you brushed your cheek against his. Silence. Two bodies connecting, not needing the light as they lived in the afterglow. Listening to San’s heartbeat, your temple against his, you mumbled:

“I would never leave.”

“Then don’t. I would never let you go anyways.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to carry me to the bathroom.”

“I’ll even hold you in the shower.”

“Oh how romantic.” you tried to shift, only eliciting a groan from San as he cautiously moved you back, a sheepish grin on his features.

“You know what, darlin’, let’s stay like this for a bit, yeah?”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine?”

“Very, very, very fine.”

Once the two of you had in part returned from your post-coital utopia, and San kept his promise and carried you around the entire apartment as though showing you off to every piece of furniture and every wall, you were clean, fuzzy from the perfectly warm shower, and wrapped up in fresh bed sheets which you had playfully commanded for San to lay down.

After having given up on immediately settling down to sleep, you and San had dissolved into a giggly mess. You had convinced him to bring his trumpet into the room and let you have another go at playing it - even though these attempts had already likely accumulated into hundreds - without much progress. At the moment, the one piece which you could confidently play was ‘a whole lot of nothing and painfully blown out air’. As you tried for the umpteenth time to produce as much as one hint of a note, you were distracted by a sudden ‘oohing’ from your boyfriend, who was watching you unwaveringly.

“What?” you lowered the trumpet and raised an eyebrow.

“That was an indirect kiss, darlin’.”

“Come on, San, what in the world-” you hit his chest playfully and attempted to return the instrument, “I’m out here huffing and puffing and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Mhm, and so much more…”

“Choi San.” you addressed him sternly, though nothing in your expression even remotely suggested that you meant it.

“Fine, fine, want me to show you again and proper?”

“You know what, I think I practised enough for today.” you handed him the instrument, restraining your laughter while he returned it to its case, clipping it shut and setting it aside on the bedside table closest to him.

“Well done, Y/N.” he praised you, though a hint of sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at me as much as you want, but you still can’t make a bloody mary.” you pointed out, making San jut out his lower lip and nod in agreement.

“Fair.”

He opened his arms wide, leaning back onto the large pillows to invite you to rest against his bare chest, an offer which you simply would never refuse. Snuggling up to him, you were in seventh heaven. One arm over his torso and the other propping you up so you would be level, you doubted that there could be anything that felt more safe, more comforting and more adoring than this. Feeling him rubbing unrushed, lulling circles on your back, accompanied by the rustling of cotton, you wanted to dissolve in this moment, your molecules reflecting onto every surface until this was all you knew.

“Y’know, I’m s’posed to have a gig next week that’s gonna cover at least three month’s rent.” he broke through the quietude with the exciting news, making you immediately look up at him, gleaming.

“What? No way, who?”

“Some bigshot from uptown wants music for his party. And who am I to refuse?”

“Damn, San, that’s amazing-”

“And, and, and, they were looking for a mixologist to make the magic happen, so if you are happy to accept, the man’s asked me to call him back tomorrow noon,” the continuation left you stunned, and you wrapped a leg around your boyfriend, embracing him until you could barely breathe.

“WHAT? San, no you didn’t I… thank you? How? I mean…” you stumbled over your words, trying your hardest to not squeal at the opportunity.

“No words needed, lovely. See? We’re gonna save up for that wedding dress in no time.”

He stated casually, but the words sent butterflies into your stomach. You had discussed official commitment early on, deciding that this was to be in your plans for certain, but considering your careers, your desires and your dreams, you wanted to find that golden sliver of stability before taking that next step. Though, as months ticked by, you could tell San’s motivation grew stronger and stronger to be able to call you his wife.

“Oh Sannie, but I told you that I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” you responded, trying to provide reassurance that either way, happiness was guaranteed; but it appeared that in the ghost of an intimate night, your boyfriend found entertainment in misconstruing your words into a lustful implication.

“Say that again and you are not getting out of bed for that morning shift.” you hit his chest so faintly that there was barely any impact before hiding your face against him, not reappearing until San brushed some hair away from your face and cupped your chin, “Darlin’, I just wanna have, and live a life with you. Many lives. More than.” melting into his touch, you wiggled upwards, closer to him.

“We’ll make it.” San nodded at your resolution, glancing out into the corridor - although the lamp that had provided the sun-like hues had long been turned off, the heat of your passion prolonged its echoes.

“It’s us we’re talkin’ ‘bout, it’s written out for us. And if not, we’ll take the pen and write it. You promised I’ll be the first to play at your bar… opening night.”

You took in the adoration in his eyes, while San delighted in the same feeling that was held in your own.

“Of course. And you said that the song you’ll sing will be the one you wrote for me.” barely audible, you answered, getting closer and closer to the sun that you knew would never burn you and instead only help you amplify your shine.

“The whole set, love. My all.”

[killuakiru]

hello!!! i love your works sm ahhhh (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

may i request headcanons for killua and gon (separately) with an s/o who is really happy and cheerful all the time but their real emotions are actually difficult to read? ty and remember to stay hydrated!! ദ്���ി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

HIII ANONNN THANK YOU SOSOSO MUCH !! <33 I am more than happy to comply your request 🤲 thank you for requesting !! Hopefully you'll like it <3

side note : thank you for the requests !! my writer's block is being cured by everyone's brilliant thoughts, thank u also for the support !! I honestly didn't know my words can bring emotions to those of my readers. > < I love yall sososo much, please take care !!

⊹₊⋆ Hidden In Plain Sight !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ Gn!Reader x Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecss ( Separate ! )ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's Start !༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Honestly, Killua was SO attracted to you mainly because he wanted to know you more, that's just who he is ! Even when you experienced horrible things, your smile never falters, leaving him very curious.

• Don't get me wrong, he loves seeing you smile and all that, and he's glad that he makes you laugh.

• But seriously, he can't shake off that feeling. If he says so himself, he can read people's emotions. ( But can be that he's surrounded by ppl who are generally easy to read )

• Ever since, he's been keeping a close eye on you— even before you both made it official. ESPECIALLY since he's not an expert when it comes to emotions.

• He keeps an eye on you on frankly everything. Your reactions if you were hurt physically, your reactions if you were denied or rejected by proposes, etc. He was DETERMINED to know your true emotions.

• But setting all of those to the side— he treats you really well, almost like how he treats Alluka. As his beloved significant other, he made a vow to himself to prioritize your needs first instead of his, knowing how unpredictable you could be.

• Although, hypothetically lets say.. You lost composure. Since you were the natural cheerful type, you'd often attached easily; Kite / Kaito, as an example.

• Kaito taught you three some simple guidance, as well as sharing stories to probably keep the children's nerves at bay. Who wouldn't? The Chimera Ants were an unknown organism, and they were regarded as highly vicious.

• The night Kaito was attacked, the sheer look of horror from your face left Killua stunned, all while Gon had a similar reaction but couldn't hold his inner rage in.

• The next morning while awaiting the Botany Hunters that accompanied Kaito, he saw you so dejected, and it was the first time seeing you like that. Your eyes were so lifeless it genuinely made Killua nervous to his core.

• Similarly to Gon, after he finished moping around, you both recovered within minutes. But Killua probably knew better as your boyfriend.

• Yes, you were back to your cheerful and talkative self, and Killua was glad, but at the same time paranoid. He knew everything had limits, his emotions, Gon's, even yours.

• After seeing that look of terror and melancholy look in your face, he's learned to ask himself; "Are they really okay?" with a heart beating in fear of losing you to succumbing to misery due to the fact you tend to keep your troubles to yourself.

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Honestly it's a miracle how he couldn't read your emotions easily. With his keen senses, one would probably think he'd instantly find something out.

• However you were a different case, similarly to Killua, he had a gut feeling— an instinct, if you must.

• Growing up on a mountain and relying on instinct, he knew better than to leave it alone. And so even before you both became a couple, he'd make low-key questions about your wellbeing to understand what you're feeling to an extent, but you'd always brush it off or answer it with a wide smile and cheerful tone.

• Gon just brushed it off after a while, believing your facial expression as your eyes creases in genuine happiness, the way you would grow breathless when you, Killua, and Gon would joke around, he firmly believed you truly were just a happy person and nothing could affect you.

• Unlike Killua, though. Gon didn't watch over you closely. As said previously— he firmly believed you were alright and had a strong mentality.

• Gon believed you can carry yourself, and you proved that point to him ! Whenever you'd be defeated physically and mentally, he'd always watch you standing your ground with a determined expression and a fairly attractive grin.

• But, because of his carelessness, that was his major mistake. He knew your tendencies, you knew his. You both were easily attached to someone and easily trusted them.

• And since Kaito knew Gon's father, you both equally shared the same celebration. Gon had a knew lead to Ging, so any normal significant other would be happy for their boyfriend.

• So the night where Kaito was attacked, ( yes we're using the same scene ), you couldn't comprehend your emotions. Your heart hammered against your chest. Seeing that.. monster that attacked Kaito with no mercy, and that very intimidating aura. So this was a Royal Guard.

• Killua noticed your demeanor, no doubt. Even Kaito, it was clear. How your usual cheerful and light demeanor turned one of a dark and fearful demeanor, Killua tried to nudge Gon. However Gon was too engulfed in his rage to even notice.

• The day he came back to his senses, looking back at it, he felt regret in his actions. While he knew his rage was justified— he wasn't paying attention to you.

• You easily forgave him though. That sent alarming shocks to his nerves. He saw your puffy and tired eyes, even when you smiled he didn't see the familiar creases he'd normally see in your eyes.

• Even after that, his rage grew and grew. But you'd constantly be by his side, so his bloodlust would often be at bay. He loved your warming personality so much and he appreciated every piece of you.

• In the end, after everything was finished, he had grown a habit to occasionally check up on you and your wellbeing. He knew you'd always bottle up your emotions, and he knew you'd break eventually.

• When that time comes, he wants to be with you and guide you through the process. He knows it'll be hard, but he'll be patient with you if you're patient with yourself.

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

[kkpwnall]

for the kindest, darlingest, most effervescent sen @fragilecapric0rnn 💜 just a little something for you. i’m so proud and grateful to call us friends, you’re thoughtful and hilarious, and so willing to go to the mat for your friends. you’re a brilliant writer and the sweetest cheerleader. i hope you have an incredible day, and an even better year ahead of you, i’m so excited to see where life and writing and everything else takes you!! you deserve the whole world. love you lots <33

It might have been harder to say goodbye if it was a nicer day. If the sun was shining, and the leaves were changing, and a cool autumn breeze blew all around them. Instead Hawkins chewed them up and spit them out the other side like it had so many times before. The sky above them opened up just as they loaded the last of the boxes in the back of the small uhaul, leaving them soaked to the skin as they threw the last of their essentials and themselves into the cab. They left town shivering and laughing uncontrollably, middle fingers out the window. Ecstatic to finally get out of that hometown hell. 

It’s all worth it, driving thousands of miles across the country, towing the beamer behind them. It’s worth it trying to navigate the narrow streets of San Francisco and getting lost at least three times before they find their new apartment. It’s worth the hike uphill from the closest parking spot big enough for the truck, and up another three flights of stairs, when Eddie unlocks the door and gallantly bows him inside. Steve wanders from kitchen to bathroom to bedroom, imaging the bed here, a bookshelf there, the desk under this window. Eddie’s amps and instruments in that corner, Steve’s sport’s equipment in the hall closet near the door, easy to grab. Before coming back to the living room with its big bright windows and view of the bay. 

Tomorrow, their friends will come by to help them unload the truck and unpack, get paid in pizza and beer and belly laughs. In a few days, a few weeks, they’ll settle in, find the grocery store, find jobs. Learn the city and meet their neighbors. In six months, a year, two years, theirs will be the place to crash for anyone visiting, anyone who needs somewhere to stay, somewhere to go.

They’ll argue and make up and struggle, lose friends and jobs and find so much better. They’ll get bad haircuts and grow weird facial hair and make questionable fashion choices. They’ll stay up late crying over things they can’t change and things they can. They’ll celebrate the new year and birthdays and lives cut too short and new ones beginning. They’ll grow and change into people they wouldn’t recognize when they were younger. 

Tonight though, it’s just Steve and Eddie, finally someplace where the ground beneath them won’t open up and try to swallow them whole. Somewhere they can be together and not have to look over their shoulders all the time. Somewhere they can be themselves, be just Steve and just Eddie, and figure all the rest out without a world-ending apocalypse every year. Together.

All the frustration and stress and hoping and wishing and scraping by of the past three years, it’s all worth it when Eddie comes up behind him, wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Pulls him close and whispers, “welcome home, sweetheart.”

[jimintomystery]

DS9: "Explorers"

Following 800-year-old Bajoran schematics, Commander Sisko attempts to build a spaceship to prove that the Bajorans achieved interstellar travel in the 16th century. Meanwhile, Doctor Bashir becomes anxious when the valedictorian of his class at Starfleet Medical visits Deep Space Nine.

The lightship is a fun idea, and it's consistent with various lines that suggest Bajor was once centuries ahead of human technology. That being said, the premise is a little half-baked. Sisko goes to great lengths to demonstrate that the Bajorans could have sailed these vessels to Cardassia, but this episode can't even explain how he got his rig out of the cargo bay.

Sisko's adventure is reminiscent of the 1947 Kon-Tiki expedition, which recreated a hypothetical pre-Columbian voyage from Peru to Polynesia. However, Sisko doesn't have time for a years-long sublight journey from Bajor to Cardassia. His more modest flight plan, then, is to travel from Deep Space Nine to the Denorios belt. Except, uh, the station is positioned near the wormhole, which is in the Denorios belt. So that'd be more like if the Kon-Tiki just circled around the Galapagos Islands a couple of times and called it good.

Nitpicks aside, this is a solid episode for character development. It's delightful to see Sisko so enthralled with Bajoran history, especially when you know where this is headed. All the scenes with Jake are perfect father-son bonding. Even B-plot, which I find a bit stupid, has a turning point in the friendship between Bashir and Chief O'Brien.

OK, back to nitpicking. "Explorers" makes a game effort to build a story from the bits and pieces of earlier Bashir character development (he sought out the unassuming assignment on DS9, he slowly grows on O'Brien, he sure digs chicks, he's brilliant but "only" a salutatorian, and the stupid preganglionic fiber anecdote). What the character needs, though, is fresh meat, not a casserole made of three-year-old leftovers. You can tell the B-plot is bankrupt because the writers can't come up with an angle for Doctor Lense except to suggest that maybe she's in love with Bashir. (???) This just reheats Bashir's hangups about Lieutenant Dax, and makes the story about him trying to get a pretty girl to notice him. But he was already hooking up with a pretty girl at the beginning of the story! Ugh, I need a shot of O'Brien's Scotch.

[flameohotwife]

We've talked so much about kataang parenthood and the cloud babies, but I'm always up for hearing more of your thoughts on them. Really, I'd just give you that and let you talk away wherever it takes you, but how about this for more of a prompt.

Here's one that's been percolating for me lately. The cloudbabies grow up in a family that's not just their parents, but their entire community. Both Aang and Katara grew up in communities full of extended aunts/uncles/cousins (whether biological or not) surrounding them, and likewise their kids grow up on an island full of Air Acolytes that act as extended family for them. They're emersed in Air Nomad culture as a daily part of their lives. Both Aang and Katara would work to make sure they have traditional Water Tribe culture as part of their upbringing too, of course. (As you know I HC that Uncle Sokka is heavily involved in all their upbingings.)

I'd just love to hear your thoughts on anything extending form that or related.

Oh, absolutely. You knew what to send to make me go off, hahaha. Kataang as parents gets, I think, wholly misrepresented based on a couple one-off lines in LoK that were meant to show that even our favorites weren't perfect in parenthood (really, who is? I try my best but I know I fail my kids in different ways all the time), the same way the writers were able to show that each character had flaws in the original series. Aang has so much on his shoulders that OF COURSE he's not going to be able to balance that perfectly. And sometimes he (AND KATARA) will be too tired at the end of the day to think straight and might not be as attentive as they could/should be. I don't know how much of the criticisms are coming from people who are actually parents, though; who know intimately the constant daily (hourly?) pressures parents of multiple kids with widely varying personalities and needs are under. None of the parents I've talked to have felt this way.

I also love this idea of the cloudbabies being raised in a communal lifestyle, because you're right that both Aang and Katara grew up that way. Everyone always paints that as a point of conflict for Aang and Katara--that Aang wouldn't know anything of a nuclear family structure but really, as much as Katara did know that, her tribe was so close-knit that they were all like family as well. This was only amplified after the men went off to war and only the women and children were left behind. The cloudbabies probably have favorite acolytes that they run to when their parents are busy, and of course Sokka and Suki and Toph and Lin and Su are always around, too, or they're in the city visiting them.

And Aang and Katara take care of Toph's and Zuko's (and potentially Sokka's if he had any) kids like their own, too, whenever they're at their house. Once they're teens/preteens, the kids all cross the bay on the ferry themselves and hang out together when they can, and all the adults just know to feed whoever is there and have extra just in case their parents come looking. I'm reaching this stage with my oldest and I can really see Aang leaning hard into this, giving Bumi's friends a ride over on Appa when he sees them in town, telling stories from the war (maybe embellishing a bit) to Bumi's intense embarrassment but his friends' joy, making sure they have an extra fruit pie to take home to their parents after... Aang might not be anybody's pro-bending coach but you can bet he finds other ways to be involved in his kids' lives and is always so, so proud of the little humans he and Katara created, regardless of bending ability, grades, or anything else (though I hc that all the cloudbabies are pretty brilliant in school). They're going to have insecurities and complaints because they're all HUMAN, but they won't doubt for a second that they are loved ("That's one happy family")

Well that became a novel, haha. Thanks for sending me your kataang thoughts(/thots) and for asking for mine, too!

[grandhotelabyss]

Do you ever feel lonely as a literary man? Or are there other literary men (or women) in your circle?

I'm touched by all your concern for my private life, anons. Am I happy, am I lonely. I'm fine.

(The only time I ever wrote about my personal life online was on Livejournal circa 2004. LJ had a feature where you could limit who saw your posts to a select list of what they called your "friends," now followers or subscribers. So, extracting emotional labor like a typical literary man, I wrote about my travails, whatever they even were back when I was 22 and immortal, to a small list of mostly British literary women. [I was, when I was around his age, sort of a coldhealing type on the internet, if you know what I mean.] They were brilliant Oxbridge students; I would talk to them on Livejournal about Shakespeare and the Brontës and A.S. Byatt and Anne Carson and Tori Amos; Oxbridge women, yes, but also some genius literary-STEM-type hybrid women I think in the Bay Area, polymathic immigrants’ daughters whose models in life were the likes of Athanasius Kircher. I wish I knew these people's real names—I still remember some of their LJ handles—because they were smart and ambitious and some or all of them must have gone on to do great things. They will probably cure cancer by inscribing a poem into the genome. Anyway, one of them—I believe she was from New Zealand—she must have been moved by my travails, whatever those were, and she wrote to me that she wished we lived in the same place so she could cook me dinner and [I will never forget this phrase] "soothe your vast American loneliness." Vast American loneliness! It's true. Everyone in America is lonely. We came here to be lonely together: crabs who actually climbed out of the deep dark bucket of Eurasia. But I digress.)

I've had periods when there were literary people in my circle and periods when there weren't. Right now I've just moved cities and am in the market for a new IRL circle! Literary people welcome, send applications. But I have my literary circle online, and phone-text conversations with friends who were once in IRL literary circles in college or grad school who have since dispersed to the four corners. I don't do the Cormac thing, "Writers are cosmopolitan neurotics, I'm a cowboy and just want to hang out with physicists," but, and ironically given my participation in "anti-institutional rhetoric" that is apparently driving tender souls off of Substack, I don't usually end up hanging out with MFA types but with academic types, philosopher types, people who school and bully me about my ignorance of philosophy and try to explain Lacan to me and the like, even online, even, yes, on Substack, I have drifted into such company. I'll be the dumbest person among the deep and systematic thinkers! It's not a bad place to be.

[dark-night-star-light]

I think Bay's poll helped me understand why I think the first arc was peak Spirit Animals.

In short: it has lows. It has plot twists. The stakes feel real. And the character moments are truly outstanding.

In a traditional three-act story, at the end of the second act, the protagonists are supposed to be at their lowest point. And the Spirit Animals authors did something even cooler with this concept. They added in a fourth act.

Think about the end of Against the Tide and Rise and Fall. I adored those two endings so much. If we apply the three-act story to the first series, Against the Tide is clearly a low. So, that's the end of the second act then, right? It can't get any worse, can it?

You expect the protagonists to dust themselves off. To never lose hope and to keep making progress until they finally defeat the big bad for good. And that's how it seems to be going in Rise and Fall. Until the writers pull an absolutely brilliant twist on you and the protagonists hit a low that is somehow lower than the first low that once again ups the stakes. Because now all hope is entirely lost. The situation has never looked so completely bleak.

So this would actually be more of a four-act story. We have the first two books (the first act): relatively innocent, adventurous, kind of formulaic. Then Conor (and then Meilin) makes a decision at the end of Hunted that makes you go. Oh. This is real. They aren't just going to spend the rest of the series collecting silly little trinkets, one per book. Now it's more than just a silly little quest story.

Then comes the second act. The stakes rise through books three, four and five, as the protagonists go through some truly earth (erdas?) shattering things. They seem to be making progress, and that's when they hit the low at the end of Against the Tide.

You expect that to be the low. For the protagonists to pick themselves up and never fall back down from there. But, no, you see, the next act is only one book. Just Rise and Fall. And this is where the writers show you how truly abysmal the protagonists' situation can get. It was bad, but it can get worse. Now they have to fix it, once and for all.

And then of course, there's the final act, also one book, The Evertree. The rallying, the fight, the climax, and the defeat. All is well, and the evil is defeated, even though they hit not just one, but two major lows.

But the Wyrm arc has nothing like that. There's a plot twist, sure, but it doesn't have any impact on the plot. Shane is the leader of the Redcloaks, sure, but what does that mean? It doesn't up the stakes. It doesn't contribute to any lows or highs or anything at all. In terms of plot, it hardly changes anything. Same thing with Kirat being Tarik's nephew. Sure, it's a cool little Easter egg, but what impact does that have on the plot? Honestly? Nothing. Think about the plot twists in the first series. There are two major ones: Meilin having drunk the Bile and Shane being the real Devourer. What do you notice about these two? Well, they both directly impact the plot, and both of them also directly contribute to the two major lows I pointed out. The Wyrm arc has nothing like that absolute brilliance.

As a result, each book just feels like a repetition of the previous one. Quest, fight, quest, fight, quest, fight, quest, done. Yes, Abeke loses Uraza, a definite low. But that's Abeke's low, not all of their lows. There are four protagonists. Yes, Greenhaven falls, a definite low. But what personal impact does that have on our main characters? Not really anything. All the people affected are random side characters. Tragic, but we as the audience don't really feel it, the way we feel Abeke and Meilin getting captured or the talismans getting stolen. And it makes the Wyrm arc feel flat and boring.

Okay, so the plot twists are boring and don't do anything to increase the stakes. Fine. Plot isn't everything, ever. What does the Wyrm arc do for our characters? Well, one in particular is presented to be a completely different person than in the first series after appearing as a mysterious figure for the majority of the arc. Are we going to do anything with that? Oh, what's that? He's dead before any interesting dynamics can be formed between him and the main characters? Okay, that's unfortunate, but what about the others? Oh, the spoiled brat that's related to Tarik does a complete 180 in the span of a handful of pages because of an amulet? Uh, okay. Well. That, that doesn't mean this arc is irredeemable! What about the girl from the historically oppressed nation that tried to colonize the entire world summoning the symbol of hope and peace for said nation? What might we do with that? Give her a stereotypical girlboss arc instead of exploring the ins and outs of the immense pressure she canonically faces from the entire country's populace? Oh. Oh. Okay, but there's that kid that breaks traditional gender roles and is scorned for it, similar to one of our own protagonists? Surely that will be an interesting thing to wri- Oh, he's tossed aside the moment his spirit animal is taken from him and that's the end of that? Hm.

This is very different from our first arc. Rollan, Meilin, Conor, and Abeke are each given likable qualities and flaws that directly relate to their upbringings and dictate their decisions very well. Over the course of the story, they form an incredibly heartwarming bond that you genuinely want to see more of. As an extra layer of genius, they even mirror each other in terms of flaws and arcs. At the end, when they all act like kids and race each other and poke fun at each other, you feel like it's earned. Like you truly watched them become what they are. It's incredible character writing and I adore it. But it was not replicated well in the Wyrm arc.

Add in all the nuance and gray morality, outstanding worldbuilding, and a couple of other things, and the first arc stands out as some of the best story-telling I've ever seen. In a children's series. The Wyrm arc is a long way to fall from that standard, and it really, really shows.

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Want To Know Who Is Playing X-5 In ‘Loki’ Season 2?

The premiere of Loki season 2 brought us a new character to unpack: X-5, a hunter who seems to be against everything that Mobius, Loki, Hunter B-15, and the rest of the team stands for. X-5 may be your introduction into this actor, but he’s been a great performer for years. Rafael Casal, known best for Blindspotting (both the film and subsequent Starz series of the same name), has made a career out of collaborating with frequent co-star Daveed Diggs. A rapper, writer, and actor, Casal is a fascinating performer, and seeing him in Loki is a treat. While X-5 may be his first foray into a big franchise like this, it does highlight how talented Casal is. His quick wit and energy works well bouncing off of Tom Hiddleston and Owen Wilson in a way that’s surprising in their first scenes, and I’m excited to see where X-5 will go throughout the season. While we don’t know much about X-5 yet and there is a lot to hope for in the future of Loki, Casal’s creative history is fun to dig into because his projects are all so different from each other. If you had to choose one thing to really dive into to see just how amazing Casal is, you should start with Miles in Blindspotting. The movie, which was co-written by Casal and Diggs, tells the story of Miles and Collin (Diggs). Trying to stay out of trouble for the last three days of his probation, Collin works as a mover with Miles in an area of the San Francisco bay that is becoming gentrified. Things go sideways and, without spoiling anything, Collin doesn’t make it through the three days without a hitch. This leads into the Blindspotting series that ran on Starz for two seasons before it was canceled. Blindspotting is a brilliant show that centers around Ashley (Jasmine Cephas Jones) and her relationship to Miles while he is serving time in jail and raising their son Sean. The film and the series are a real showcase of Casal’s talents, a great watch as a whole, and perfect if you suddenly want more of Casal in your life after seeing him in Loki season 2. This piece was written during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike. Without the labor of the actors currently on strike, the work being covered here wouldn’t exist.

[lil-cutesy-things]

Expressing your anger (Writing 101 with an old soul #5)

Hi lovelies and welcome for a new lesson on writing with me, Bay~ ♡ Hope you are all doing good!

So today's lesson is going to be about:

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Self-expression (anger version)

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

Today, I decided to express my feelings of anger in the form of a prose poem. But how should I start? Where do I find brilliant ideas, striking symbolisms and metaphors?

My answer is and will always be: you don't need strokes of genius to write a poem. If you hope to make your writings acutely yours, you have to use your own ideas, work from your own inspiration and imagination.

Of course, you are allowed to get some inspiration from other writers and poets—I am not saying that you cannot, but trust me, you don't want to get accused of plagiarism.

Let's get back to my poem. I am going to list the words that come to mind and try to see if they are relevant or not.

Dark blue (inspired by the series 13 Reasons Why) ➜ a shade of nail polish used by the fans of the series to raise suicide awareness

Blood droplets ➜ physical injuries, s*lf-harm

Scars ➜ physical violence, s*lf-harm

Raising your tone / getting loud ➜ being unable to stay calm

Name-calling / insults ➜ verbal violence, being unable to remain respectful

Blaming / finding faults ➜ criticising & pointing fingers

Inappropriate remarks ➜ unwinding, letting loose

Triggers ➜ things that can cause anger, anxiety, etc.

Now that I have this list with interesting ideas, I can start writing my poem.

See you later for the end result!

My anger

My anger is just like a spider bite

It stings, it burns and itches

Sometimes it needs to be treated with an antidote

Sometimes it does not

You know, anger is not something to be ashamed of

At least that's what they say

But I always feel ashamed anyway

So I guess our hands are tied

My anger is colour blue

A dark yet vivid hue

To number the days where I messed up

And spilled from my cup

My anger does not have an even sheen

Blood droplets dripping down my skin

Arrow-shaped scars that will never fade away

I am not proud of them, probably never will be

But they are still parts of me.

꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

[codenamehazard]

.:New Poison Revealed:.

Chapter 28: New Poison Revealed

[TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF DEATH AND MONSTERS]

Hey guys! I just looked at the chapter number and holy hell I didn't expect that I would be at chapter 28 with the big 3-0 milestone peeking around the corner. It is still forever mind-boggling how all of this stared as a one-shot that I wasn't even planning on writing out.

And thanks to your support of my mad ramblings in fanfic form, that one-shot grew into something I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams. So, thank you all for reading.

A special thank you goes out to @rogueshadeaux. She has given me so much, her friendship, her encouragement, her mentorship, I dare say if it wasn't for her encouraging me to throw my metaphorical hat in the ring, chapter 1 would have never been written. She is also a brilliant writer and her story will grab you by the throat and chokeslam you into the ground with feels. Please give InFAMOUS: Erosion a read when you're done here.

Another thanks to Rogue for letting me borrow her twins.

Enough of my rambling, let's jump in!

---------

How much time has passed since I peeked on the two builders playing with legos? I have no idea, and at this moment I don’t give an iota of a damn as an infuriating sight dares to walk out of the Quiet Room and into my line of sight.

That fucking tin-can carrying Kestrel like she was some princess in a god-damn fairy tale. It’s gag-worthy.

My eye twitches and my blood seethes in my veins as Coyote gently places the passed out bird onto a sleeping cot before tucking her in, for god’s sake… As if this couldn’t get anymore saccharine sweet.

“Poor girl’s out steel cold. Fell asleep on the floor.” The shiny fucker pipes up for probably the first time in I don’t give a shit. I’m not paying much attention as my mind is going in several different directions at once. I’m still confused as all hell as why seeing Kestrel and Coyote playing with god-damn legos like good friends was making me look at the younger man like he was a lightning rod, now this?! This was bringing back some urges from my Empire City days. His face is looking more and more punchable by the second, but why?!?

Why is this enraging me so much?! Why is every dark urge in my head screaming at me to kill this man?!?  Why am I giving so much of a shit about who does what kind gestures to her?!? 

We. Hate. Each-other.

I’m struggling not to bear my teeth and growl at Coyote when the bay doors open and out comes the black haired woman… Crow, was it? It’s the only other name that doesn’t have a face to it aside from the absolutely ridiculous ones. Her arrival snaps me out of my murderous fury and draws my eyes to her.

“Okay guys.” She starts. “I need to know exactly what went down with Pangolin, beginning and end. There are other Misfit groups out there and the Defense Teams need to know what’s going on. It’ll also help me dial in Pangolin’s treatment.”

Mako starts giving a play by play of what went down out there, I’m half-paying attention as rage is still boiling hot when I remembered something that had been bugging me for a while. I remember Jean saying something about an “anti-corrodium” or some nonsense like that, it’s something that needed answers.

“Hey, uhm… Crow, was it?” I jump in and ask when there’s a break in the convo, she turns her head with a “hm?” and a tilt of her head. “What in the hell is Corrodium?” The raven-haired woman blinks at me and raises an eyebrow before looking at Mako.

“D- Did you not tell him about Corrodium…?” Crow questions Mako with a pointed look, she throws her hands up defensively. “We really didn’t have a lot of time between the chaos that broke out when we first picked him up, Kes trying to complete her project, the Summoner and now this!” Great, another goddamn thing that nobody fucking told me about, though Mako does have a point about things being a roller coaster ride from the beginning to now, kinda hard to squeeze in a Wildlands 101, so I guess I can let it slide…. For now, anyway.

I can see the woman pinch the bridge of her nose and let out an irritated sigh before looking at the two of us.

 “Okay, let’s all get something to eat before I go hangry bitch on both of you.” Crow grumbles while looking at Mako with a glare.

“Yeah, I’m not sure when we last ate.” Mako murmurs while rubbing the back of her head. ”Coyote can keep an eye on sleeping beauty over there.” Hold the god-damn phone!! Tin-man’s gonna be watching Kes?! “Though we should be sure to bring her back a couple of funnel cakes, she’s going to be ravenous when she wakes up.” My eye twitches as I glare at Mako. Did she really suggest that?! The fire in my chest flares hot again at that thought and the train-wreck in my head starts back up again. 

“It should be me watching her, not him.” The devil on my shoulder hisses in my ear, it shocks the ever loving shit out of me. Why did I think that?? Why do I care who watches her?! Why do I give a damn?! WHY?!?

I open my mouth to protest, but my stomach tells a different story as it growls obnoxiously loud at the thought of carnival food, causing the girls to look at me with amusement. I feel a bit of heat tinge my cheeks as I grumble and rub the back of my head.

“Well, I think that decides that.” Mako hums with a smile and I roll my eyes, but I follow the two women outside, leaving Kes behind with Coyote… Much to my bewildering chagrin.

Some funnel cake does sound really good at the moment, maybe a churro or two.

I shield my eyes from the blinding sun as we step outside of the hospital into a literal carnival, so many colors every which way, with tents and rides and holy shit there’s just so much to look at, so much to explore and climb.

“So, Corrodium.” Crow hums as we head off to what I can guess is this city’s Junk Food Alley. “To put it as simply as possible, Corrodium is basically Conduit poison. The parasitic bastard child of lead and some kind of anti-rayacite. It’s so dangerous, it’s commonly called “Conduit’s Bane” around here.”

“Uh-huh, that’s nice and all but that don’t tell me much.” I huff in irritation, Crow gives me an aggravated look as the tips of her raven locks seem to melt and liquify into water.

Oh fuck, she’s a Water Conduit…

“I was getting to that.”  She hisses in annoyance before taking a deep breath.

“The reason it’s so feared and you should have been warned about from the very beginning….” Crow gives Mako a heated glare. “Is because of its effects. If a Conduit is even so much as exposed to it, it weakens them greatly. However, it becomes so much more dangerous if it’s injected, like through a bite or a sting. It royally fucks them up, corrupting their bodies and powers.” I bring my hand to my chin and rub the stubble on it, my mind processing all of this. This brings questions into my head, why didn’t anyone tell me? I mean, I get that the chaos me joining the party caused did turn everything on its head, but nobody said anything at all. Were the Misfits just so used to this being common knowledge that it just slipped their mind?

“Corrodium Poisoning can be treated with various Ray Field Radiation treatments and Rayacite infusions, but there’s no real silver bullet cure-all for this.” She continues. “Every treatment plan has to be tailored to the patient's unique biology and power signature and they have to remain under constant surveillance until everything is flushed out completely.” Jesus, sounds like Pango’s gonna be stuck in the hospital for a good while.

“You guys were extremely lucky that you got Pangolin in when you did.” Crow points out with a worried look. “If you had been even a second later, then Pangolin’s prognosis would have been really grim.” The seriousness gives me pause, now I’m really starting to wonder why nobody said anything about this shit before.

She continues, going into medical jargon that I couldn’t really understand much, so my mind starts to wander and look at all the new sights around me.

Good God, saying that this is a city that the circus took over is just the tip of the iceberg. Tents stood tall, with the three-pointed one dwarfing the rest, so many colors, so many sounds and smells. There were stands with souvenirs and rigged games, rides that looked like Mad Max had a field day constructing them out of rusted scrap and old buildings and…

Holy shit, is that one of those Slingshot rides?? Without a cage?? I watch the ride release the ball in between the springs and literally launch whatever poor son of a bitch was in there, sending him sky high! Good thing Conduits don’t go splat from high places… Still hurts like a bitch if you botch the landing though.

The sound of screaming catches my attention as I… That’s a big-ass roller coaster…. And an Ice Conduit is skating on the track while being chased by the train??? It takes all of my willpower to not galavant off to go ride the rides… Besides, bad idea to go climbing on an empty stomach.

I make a mental note to hit these rides up before we leave.

“That reminds me…” I murmur when I hear a lull in Crow’s medical jargon. “You said Corrodium has a power weakening effect when a Conduit’s exposed to it, but when the Misfits and I fought those Blink Scorpion bastards, my powers were fine and it seemed like everyone else’s was fine too… What’s that all about?”

“Corrodium… It’s a very nasty and very adaptive metal.” Crow answers with a soft hum. “The properties of that stuff can vary depending on what form the Conduit is exposed to. The Corrodium in Blink Scorpion venom? The energy produced messes with a Conduit’s perception, making them appear that they’re teleporting around.” Well, that explains why I could still detect them with Radar Pulse.

“The power weakening effect is most prominent in metallic Corrodium, be it raw or refined.” Refined? That’s not good. Metals don’t just start being refined for shits and giggles, there’s always a reason. Something like this shit being refined? I smell trouble, but I put a pin in it for the time being, more questions to be asked.

“And Pangolin?” I mention. “What would have happened if we didn’t make it in time?” I notice Mako’s face go an off color and Crow’s head lower as she sighs.

“Best case…? His powers either weaken greatly or he loses them outright. Everything. Worst case….” She licks her lips to wet them and her eyes narrow. “He dies from the poisoning or he becomes… One of them….”

“One of them.” 

That thought, it echoes in my head like a scream in an auditorium. An ice-cold chill shoots down my spine as everything starts to sink in. I had thought death by RFI was the worst way for a Conduit to go, memories of that fateful day flicker in my head as I remember the searing agony of my own body being torn asunder from the inside out by that damned machine before Zeke used the Amp to free me from its clutches… And that thing wasn’t even fully charged.

At least the RFI would have killed cleanly. This Corrodium shit? It makes the RFI look like a bullet to the head, quick, painless and gets the job done.

Not only can this metal poison strip a Conduit of their power as a best case scenario… It turns them into literal monsters in the worst case. God… And that’s what was happening to Pangolin. He was slowly dying right before everyone’s eyes.

The weight of this situation, not just in the here and now, but what this means for everyone… It sits in my stomach like a lead weight. I can feel the color drain from my face and my empty stomach curl in on itself, making me want to throw up what little contents it had. Before I know it, Mako and Crow are guiding me to the nearest bench, fearing I might faint. Flickers of Trish flash in my head as the raven-haired woman has me sit down. My mind reels from it all.

I put my hand to my mouth as I try to digest everything… God, now I truly understand why Dove was so beside himself and why Kestrel went completely nuclear when she was given permission to drop her mask. Every second they weren’t in the hospital was a second closer to Pangolin’s end. To the death of a big brother and their leader… And they were helpless to stop it.

“Has… Has anyone… Survived after the window shut…?” I ask breathlessly as Crow hands me a bottle of water, no doubt one she poured on the fly. I eagerly take the bottle and drink it down in hopes of calming myself some. The Water Conduit shakes her head before speaking.

“Honestly… Not really.” She murmurs with slight hesitation. “It’s only happened twice and if I’m to be frank, a lot of us in the medical group here in Tri-Point chalked them up to either miracles or dumb luck as even they didn’t come out completely unscathed.” Two? Hmm… Might be worth looking into who those two are.

“We have the brightest minds among us studying these two cases to see what made the difference for them, what allowed them to keep their humanity.” They won’t be the only ones looking into them now.

I stare off into the distance as I sit on the bench, my mind racing a mile a minute. This… This is just so much for me to process, especially after all the chaos that unfolded not that long before. A brand new metal… One that can spell the death or zombiefication of all of Conduit-kind. New fears begin to form as my brain starts creating what ifs. What would happen if I became exposed to that crap? Would it rob me of all of my powers? What if I had gotten stung? What manner of horrors would I be subjected to or worse… What would that shit turn me into? The fear that trumped them all, however, is this.

If a bunch of rag-tag survivor types know about it, then who else knows?

These guys, as tough and creative as they are, don't have access to state-of-the-art tech or vast information pools… And if these guys know about Corrodium… Then it’s an absolute guarantee that certain other parties have known about it far longer than the Wildlanders have. How long has this Pandora’s box been open? It has to have been a long time since there was a refined version of it made. Long enough for it to be made into things.

This could be something that could spell disaster. Something that would make even the Ray Field Plague look like a sniffle.

Something that could truly kill us all.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Riding the Eye of the Storm

I am an unapologetic shill for Transformers, specifically Generation One. It was a pillar of my childhood. I’ve spoken about this at length because, like Spider-Man and Godzilla, this franchise shaped my taste in media for years to come. It was my love for transforming robots which lead me to Voltron, which spring boarded me to Robotech, that caused me to stumble down the cyberpunk rabbit hole and come to rest at the foot of Evangelion. Without Transformers, I wouldn’t have given Voltron a second look and probably missed out on my all-time favorite anime. Obviously, that’s hyperbole, kind of. I would have found EVA eventually, especially how saturated that franchise has become, but I would like to think my openness to it stemmed from my love for Optimus and his rag-tag bunch of freedom fighters. I’ve defended my little long form toy commercial for years, knowing that, as an Eighties product to move re-branded Diaclone and Micro Man content here in the States, there was no lore or cohesive story content to be had. I mean, there was, broad strokes of a eons long war, dead planets, Unicron, and whatever else, but not enough to really sink your teeth into. This was a kids show. No one needs character development or world building. Kids are dumb and won’t appreciate any of that. And then BtaS happened and all that sh*t changed. Transformers saw the value of narrative and gave us Beast Wars. From that point on, story and character finally took precedence. Every US developed Transformers show going forward, made it a point to build a lore around their core characters and, for a time, it was glorious. Animated and Prime gave us something really special. The War for Cybertron, with all of their faults, really put in the effort to build out that world. Even Cyberverse and Earthspark are out here, shining way more bright than they have any right to be. Hasbro has finally given proper due to the Transformers on the small screen and I am living for it. That said, theatrically? Theatrically, it’s been rough.

I hate Bayformers. Hate. Viscerally. Michael Bay is a terrible director. He’s great at action set pieces and has a brilliant eye for visual effects, but the man has no idea how to develop a character to save his life. He makes movies from the effects out. The spectacle is the point of his films, not the narrative content. So, for me, as a fan of this franchise for almost four goddamn decades, it was rough seeing the stark decline from the first to the last. Let’s be real right now, the Marky Mark Bayformers films are absolute nonsense. One of them didn’t even have the f*cking Decepticons transform, just explode into amorphous squares and sh*t. Bro, how you have a Transformers film without and transforming? Plus, they replaced the only actual character with an arc in the entire franchise, because Spielberg was offended she likened working for Mike Bay to serving under Hitler. Yo, if you knew how Megan Fox was treated on those sets, you’d know exactly why she said what she said. Ma got stories of the sexist bullsh*t she had to suffer through, going back to Bad Boys 2, when she was an extra on set at sixteen years old. The f*ck? And the way they wrote her out is just lazy. That chick Carly in the third? That was Mikaela, all day. Legitimately that’s the resolution to HER arc. After Fox got released in the off-season, Bay and his braintrust of writers just did a search-and-replace for anything that said Mikaela with Carly, and printed “revised” scripts. Lazy. Just f*cking lazy. I hate the Bayformers films so much, especially because they started with so much potential.

After The Last Knight deservedly flopped (Knights? In my Transformers movie? Really?), we got Bumblebee, which was basically the Iron Giant with our adorable, slug bug, mascot. And it was good. Travis Knight got a shot at this one and you can tell he wanted to do right by G1 and he did. I loved Bumblebee. Obviously, it wasn’t perfect. The aforementioned Iron Giant narrative is a thing but is that terrible? I loved the Iron Giant. It was dope. If you’re going to crib notes from something, make it a proven narrative, right? Avatar stole it’s entire goddamn identity from Dances with Wolves. Skyfall, my favorite Bond film, is just The Dark Knight. I can forgive Bumblebee basically lifting its entire vibe from The Iron Giant, especially with those opening scene on Cybertron. Believe me when I tell you, seeing my G1 inspired designs, mixed with the photo realism of that Bayformers aesthetic, I shrieked aloud. That one scene, was everything I wanted in my Transformers film. That was more than enough to satiate my very bias, very nostalgic, Millennial heart. I saw that sh*t three times in theaters and loved every second. I thought Bumblebee was a strong step forward in the right direction. That is until Rise of the Beasts dropped. Believe me when I say, RotB, was such a letdown after the high of Bumblebee. That sh*t was basically just a Bayformers entry without the goddamn Bayhem. The Bayhem is the point! You can’t make Bayformers with the Bayhem. Trying to imitate that sh*t halfheartedly, especially trying your best to bring in the Beast Wars fans and not alienate the goodwill you garnered from the excellent Bumblebee, was a goddamn mistake. I hate Bayformers because it’s a loud, disjointed, mess of admittedly beautiful visuals. The stories sucked, the Transformers designs are the worst in the franchise, and there story is so f*cking convoluted, it makes X-Men comics look like Emerson, but I was never bored watching them. Rise of the Beasts is boring. It takes the worst aspects of Bayformers and Bumblebee, mashes them together, and sh*ts out a very corpo curated product, with an eye toward a future cinematic universe. You can’t do that. You have to make sure your first entry is strong enough to stand on its own. That’s how the MCU did it. That’s how the Monsterverse did. That’s how it’s done. Which brings me to the point of this essay, Transformers One looks like that entry point.

When I heard we were getting an origin story for Transformers, roughly following the IDW and Prime origin of the Megs-Prime conflict, I was hesitant. That story is so good, and has been told excellently several times, but never in the theater, never in “serious” media. Then the cast was announced. Chris Hemsworth as Orion Pax? Bryan Tyree Hill as pre-despot Megatron? Word? The only one that made any sense to me was Scarlett Johansson as Elite-1 because of course. I figured Hasbro f*ckded up again but then something happened. I saw the character designs. They reminded me of that first five minutes from Bumblebee. Then a trailer dropped. It WAS the first five minutes of Bumblebee, mixed with a little bit of Beast Machines, and a whole lot of Transformers Prime. There was humor. There was levity. There was pathos and characterization. You can tell there is strong chemistry within the cast, something that wasn’t necessarily a thing in Bayformers, RotB, but was definitely there in Bumblebee. There was color, life, enthusiasm, and genuine warmth. That short three minutes, sold me immediately on this film and I need so much more. It felt authentic to Transforms, an extension of the very best the franchise has to offer, and really hammered home how this theatrical franchise should have been full CG from the very beginning. I mean, the theatrical continuity for Transformers is an absolute mess now, but this origin film has the potential to clean that up. As long as it’s good. So far, I am loving what I’ve seen. So far, I have hope. It’s weird to say, but I have optimism for a good theatrical Transformers film again.

[grigori77]

Movies of 2023 - My Summer Rundown (Part 1)

The Runners-Up:

20.  TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS – it’s telling that we didn’t get a truly GREAT live action Transformers movie until Michael Bay stepped back into a mere producer capacity and we got 2018’s brilliant soft-reboot Bumblebee.  This new film feels like something of a step back to Bay’s more OTT chaos, but they’ve still learned the lessons from that ridiculous excess to bring us a direct sequel to that ingenious restart, Creed II director Steven Caple Jr. going bigger this time but still reining in the excess with impressive focus for an explosively exciting and still endearingly heartfelt action adventure.  The end results are still clunky but a good deal better than Bay’s misfires, and entertaining, affecting and genuinely thrilling if you just let yourself go with it …

19.  TO CATCH A KILLER – honestly, I could hardly call Argentine filmmaker Damian Szifron’s taut suspense thriller an international big break considering it only received a limited theatrical release before becoming a relative promo-free sleeper on streaming, but this is one of those underdog movies that really deserves a lot more attention than it received.  Divergent’s Shailene Woodley is electrifying as Eleanor, a troubled Baltimore PD officer who, after a nightmarish sniper attack and bombing, becomes an unofficial investigator under the guidance of FBI manhunter Lammark (an ON-FIRE Ben Mendelsohn) as he races to track down a brutal domestic terrorist before they commit another atrocity.

18.  HEART OF STONE – Gal Gadot stretches her action heroine muscles outside of playing Wonder Woman as superspy Rachel Stone/Nine of Hearts, a top agent in a mysterious covert intelligent agency known as the Charter, who must go it alone when a former partner makes a play for the quantum computing AI that helps them fight international threats.  Director Tom Parker (The Aeronauts, Wild Rose, Peaky Blinders) reveals previously largely untapped action talent as he turns The Old Guard comics-writer’s blistering screenplay into an exciting, fast-paced action thriller that’s sure to impress fans of Netflix’ previous dabbles in the genre.

17.  ORGAN TRAIL – another indie underdog that snuck in VERY MUCH under the radar, this supremely twisted psychological horror western from Drop Dead Gorgeous director Michael Patrick Jann and newcomer screenwriter Meg Turner deserves A WHOLE LOT of attention.  Zoe De Grand Maison (Orphan Black, Riverdale) lights up the screen as Abigail Archer, a young girl in snow-bound 1870s Montana who’s forced to grow up REAL FAST when her family is murdered by a band of marauding outlaws who make a brutal living attacking travelling groups of would-be settlers for their money and supplies.

16.  INDIANA JONES & THE DIAL OF DESTINY – 2008’s Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was such a disappointment compared to the giddy heights of Steven Spielberg’s original stone-cold CLASSIC action adventure trilogy that I went into this film with very low expectations, so I was VERY PLEASANTLY SURPRISED to see that this is actually a whole lot of fun and a GLORIOUS return to form for Harrison Ford’s now VERY OLD Nazi-fighting treasure hunter and professor of archaeology.  With Spielberg and George Lucas largely stepping back into producing duties here, Logan writer-director James Mangold has taken up the reins instead, delivering an engagingly nostalgic thrill-ride which beautifully redeems Indiana Jones for a new generation while also giving the character a suitably grand send-off …

15.  THE PRINCE – while not technically a feature film, I was SO thoroughly impressed by this filmed performance of the revolutionary Shakespearean deconstruction play by actress, playwright and influential YouTuber Abigail Thorn that I couldn’t resist giving it a nod here.  Thorn shines bright as a distinctly unconventional take on Harry “Hotspur” Pierce in Henry IV, an anthropomorphised play character who becomes ensnared in a radical shake-up of their life-story when a pair of humans from THE REAL WORLD become trapped in the play itself and wind up entirely sabotaging the narrative.  It’s a fascinating experience, a revolutionary game-changer of a show which takes Shakespeare and turns his works ENTIRELY on their head while addressing important themes of genre identity, sexuality and intolerance, and this is glaring proof that this is a production which deserves to be seen whether it’s in this Nebula video presentation or performed live on stage.

14.  BARBIE – Oppenheimer’s bizarre unexpected twin when it came to be released in cinemas is, in many ways, just as important a film, but for very different reasons.  After languishing in Development Hell since 2009, writer-director Greta Gerwig finally realised this genuinely BIZARRE screwball comedy sort-of biopic of the iconic fashion doll range from Mattel, unleashing the character upon the world IN THE LIVING FLESH in the simply PERFECT (from a casting point of view) form of Margot Robbie.  She’s simply AMAZING here as “Stereotypical Barbie”, who finds herself going through an existential crisis after some girl starts “playing with her wrong” in the real world, but the film is frequently stolen right out from under her by Ryan Gosling as her so-called boyfriend Ken, who went ALL OUT to bring the most fundamentally useless boy-toy in history to life …

13.  MEG 2: THE TRENCH – supremely creepy indie cinema director Ben Wheatley may seem like a distinctly ODD choice to helm a follow-up to 2018’s most delightfully off-the-wall runaway action horror smash hit, but he actually proves to be a perfect hit because he clearly GETS the inherent silliness of this franchise.  Cinema’s all-time greatest living “special effect”, Jason Statham, returns as deep sea rescue diver and professional giant shark-puncher Jonas Taylor, once again wrapped up in a whole heap of trouble when not one but this time THREE massive prehistoric megaladons escape the abyssal Trench and start munching on South Pacific tourists, but this time matters are further complicated when he also has to deal with a conglomerate of dastardly strip-miners looking to exploit the Trench’s rare earth metal resources for their own ends …

12.  THE ANGRY BLACK GIRL & HER MONSTER – debuting writer-director Bomani J. Story brings Frankenstein to the inner-city projects as haunted teenage genius Vicaria (the new TV series of The Equalizer’s Laya DeLeon Hayes) reanimates her gangbanger big brother Chris (Kill a Prophet and Warrior Soul’s Edem Atsu-Swanzy) after he’s gunned down in a turf war.  The results are a dark and disturbing slowburn psychological body horror that deals head-on with socially resonant issues of drugs, urban poverty and gang culture while also delivering a unique and challenging new twist on one of the most classic stories in the history of science-fiction and horror …

11.  TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES: MUTANT MAYHEM – another animated feature that’s following the inventive new lead of the Spider-Verse movies, this latest big screen incarnation for Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird’s zeitgeisty comics creations is a genuine riot which takes the original core concept and runs it through a delightfully skewed comedic blender to form a compelling new narrative basis for what’s sure to be a fantastic new film series.  Comedy screenwriting/producing masters Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg team up with up-and-coming young writer-director Jeff Rowe (The Mitchells Vs. the Machines) to bring the youthful mutant quartet to vivid life with plenty of visual flair, anarchic chaotic humour and a whole lot of heart, and I for one can’t wait for more.

[denimbex1986]

'The act of writing is intrinsically solitary. But for Max Porter getting it down on the page is only the first step. The acclaimed English author loves to play around with his work, bringing it to life in many formats, and the more people joining him in his creative sandbox, the better.

Porter will give a multi-disciplinary and improvised performance of his most recent novel Shy at the Sounds from a Safe Harbour festival in Cork next month. It is a perfect fit for Porter in more ways than one. Like his work, the festival — curated by Mary Hickson, actor Cillian Murphy, writer Enda Walsh and Aaron and Bruce Dessner of The National — defies expected boundaries and nothing is off the table when it comes to collaborative experimentation.

“Collaboration is the raison d'etre for me,” says Porter. “Trust is the whole thing, so if Mary says ‘this is a good person, do you want to work with them' I say ‘yeah, because it’s you’. I adore working with her — ‘anything for Mary Hickson’ is my motto. Also my work only comes alive when I put it up against music, try it in a different space or read it to an audience, so it is the dream festival for me, it’s everything I want an arts festival to be, actually.”

Porter previously worked as a bookseller and later in publishing before making his own mark on the literary scene with his sensational debut novel Grief is the Thing with Feathers, a whirling blend of prose and poetry about a grieving widower and his two sons who are comforted, tormented and protected by a crow. Shy, his fourth and most recent novel, is a virtuoso portrayal of one night in the life of a troubled teenage boy. He says that expanding Shy’s universe through improvised performance is a continuing revelation for him.

“It’s a little bit scary sometimes but then that’s also when it’s most exciting. I want the books to be unfinished until they meet the reader anyway. So what you've got is an incredible opportunity for 200 people to meet it and make it their own — it’s their unhappy teenage relative, troubled son, or their grief. I want to make something in the room that is completely unique to those people in that space. And I absolutely love that. It feels like a corrective to all the things that scare me about my job.”

Porter, who lives in Bath with his wife and three sons, is no stranger to Cork, his most recent visit being in April, when he performed at an event in the Glucksman Gallery with musician Elaine Howley and writer Danny Denton.

“It was brilliant, I loved that. I’m very fond of Cork and I’m pleased to be coming back so soon. I did the West Cork Literary Festival one year as well which was incredible, I had one of the nicest swims of my life. I went walking around the bay there and found a nice little spot to swim in the morning. Swimming and reading are the two best things a human can do really.”

The author also loves Irish audiences, who he says embrace the fluidity of his performances.

“They don’t flinch. I don't know what I must have done in a past life to have earned it. I have always felt that my work is welcome. Maybe it's because there’s a sort of unEnglishness about the way I work. But also your culture industry is just so positive — unusual collaborations across different forms get a yes, whereas in the UK, they often get an ‘ah, sorry things are a bit tight or audiences won’t like that’.”

One of the most fruitful creative partnerships of Porter’s career has been with Cillian Murphy. Their friendship blossomed when the actor starred in the stage show of Grief is the Thing with Feathers (adapted by Enda Walsh). Porter and Murphy then collaborated on a short film, All of This Unreal Time, directed by Aoife McArdle, which will get its Irish premiere at Sounds from a Safe Harbour.

“That was a beautiful thing, actually, because that was written for Cillian as a gift for him to think about and read, and then he turned it into a more personal thing in the workshopping of it, and then in the film, it became more about Aoife McArdle’s thoughts. And that’s what I love, that my text isn’t owned by me, it goes off to be changed by them. It is exciting to show it in Ireland.”

Porter says Murphy, currently wowing the world with his performance in Oppenheimer, has been a big influence on him personally and professionally.

“Working with Cillian is an absolute joy always. He’s a master of his art and has been a real influence on me and the way I think about language and performance. We have great irons in the fire. It is just beautiful to have a good creative friendship like that. And obviously he has gone off and conquered the world.”

Murphy’s performance in Oppenheimer is ‘astonishing’, says Porter, adding: “It is mad… a biopic of a nuclear scientist doesn’t scream box office. It is incredible to see my 13-year-old son discussing it with all his mates on Snapchat.”

The struggle of what it is to be human and the loss that underpins our existence is never far from the surface in Porter’s work. Grief is something we all experience at some point, he says.

“We are all experiencing it at some point — the lady in front of you in the queue at the checkout, the guy you just tutted at because he couldn’t get his bus pass working. And if we all lived in a world where we based our behaviour slightly more on that truth, wouldn’t that be an incredible thing?”

Art and the sharing of it helps us reckon with loss while finding joy, something that those behind Sounds from a Safe Harbour are also tuned into.

“We’re all coming together, we’re using art, music, language, dance, even smell — all to come to terms with stuff that happened last year or 20 years ago. Because it’s a shared thing. And I love how close to the surface that is — maybe it’s Mary's genius, maybe it's the nature of the festival, or the place. I don't know. But I run to it, I absolutely run to it. Because it creates extraordinary joy as well as deep gratitude and all the good things that we should be. It’s literally like hydration. And I need it.”'

[neixins]

5, 16, 17, and 23!!

5. What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

i’ve mostly been researching symbolism and poetry for my gijaeha magnum opus (recently unlocked fact! ducks symbolize a wish for happiness! phenomenal news for the eurasian teals who make a few appearances thanks to my trusted vizier charlie’s brilliant mind) but i’ve also referenced some of the things i read for my masters thesis, including shields’ the one who knows me, hinsch’s passions of the cut sleeve, and wang’s paper censorship and circumvention in china: how danmei writers 'drive a car' on jinjiang, all of which are interesting reads (especially the shields, oh it’s so good!!!). honestly, akayona can be a pretty tough series to do research for bc the world has a blend of cultural influences so if smth isn’t explicitly shown on page u can go in circles trying to figure out which culture it’d be most likely to pull inspiration from. personally, i chose to lean towards chinese culture in those cases, both bc it’s what i find easiest to research and bc i find that the way kusanagi does queercoding has similarities with danmei dramas which is a very fun overlap of interests for me <3

16. What do you struggle with most when writing?

description for sure. i get so focused on the emotions and dialogue that i forget to describe where the characters even are </3 i’m trying to spin this in my favor (like, these fools are so obsessed with each other they don’t have time to pay attention to their surroundings!!) but i really do need to work on my descriptions

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

ngl every time i find a poem or piece of symbolism that clicks i feel like the smartest guy alive (most recently it was 题李次云窗竹 /the bamboo by the window by bai juyi) <3 i’m also very proud of myself for managing to stick to my tentative editing schedule for the past week or two

23. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

ngl i haven’t finished a fic in. uhhh…. a decade?? and everything i completed before that were itty bitty little oneshots. but if all goes according to plan i should be posting cut to the feeling around my bday so i’ll have some cake at the very least :3

[theebeginningofwater]

omw home

Huiuudeeeey whooooooo honey breeze beeeeeeeeeeee baaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy be!

My rain fall and moon. Rises. You know something? My brother Amir raise my I and my eyes to the light with a brilliant laughter. I don't know. He started praying like a Muslim after we had haseesh sessions with many kings and whites and gafitti writers and queens and derelict and some straight up No Good bastards. Hi. Ha. Heeeeey. So yah. 300 years passed and I asked Amir appeared in one of my dreams holding his hands like a Christian asking, ayoooo Cas! How does a Muslim pray? I returned the favor with a question of my own. I haven't formed the words, tones or vocabulary around it quite yet though, habibi.

But yeah my brother Amir used to the highest heaven on Broadway (a few years after Sir Mix A Lot paved every Broadway from Seattle to the 7th and walla yonder every heaven with gold you know? Wow so yah. My brother Amir used to scream ecstatic pure intelligent Black and YIN and Yang Joy To The World when we'd see each other. You we stopped carrying guns in kne another's presence and talked Quran and basic instructions and Wu Tang and Crooked eyes and blunts and good ghood shit like Arabian Knights and money unfoldable or if I've never known brotherhood before Amir (I have. Abundance. But bay and be yadda I can be a liar momentarily?) If I've never known brotherhood before meeting my dude Amir walla he told me that in his home country they never give thanks and nobody smiles and the only greeting they know over there is HUIUUUUDDDEEEEY. Anyhow my love. He also told me that's what say when they see a cop? And I'm all like....yo, how many cops do you see on the daily? He's says, everyone is a cop in my country. So naturally I cried 10000 corpses and leapt to the tree tops and I gues I don't ever want to go to Amir'a home country and I never asked where his home is. It sounds so terrible that I cannot say tonight's sky is my heart I hope to kiss your fingers before dreaming every day nahhhhh every night that I live.

Yooo yo yo! Ok baby baby. I am high on a plane, nearly landing back home. Because yaknow. Im about to break my first 4 day fast. It's actually pretty thouh. Nahhh! Actually. The fast is slow ha ha ha. The hard become soft. Paws. Not trying to bring no alley stray cats or fists to this mix. Yah pause, tonight i break fast forbthe first time in 800 epochs my live. Ah. Yah, yadda the boat floats. The same boat and millions souls and millions more to come. Ehos. Whoa.....

So, check this out. Before I throw this mask from the left wing of this ship, vessel, aerodynamic ginger root. Whatever. I met a pirate on a spacecraft before boarding this vessel. She wore a black bandana and talked with a Austrailian? OK okay Ima break fast. Soon. But first! Did I ever tell you just met my brother who was a chinaman, in the 3rd grade. The question was brought to our attention: what is your favorite color. My bro the man from China said Black. I said Red. Anyhow, I realized on 27th Avenue that red is no longer my favorite color? What is your favorite color my queen? May it be! Fuck it I don't even care what day week or month we are without knowing your favorite color.

So yah. My favorite color is Black. I saw a rainbow in the sky maybe 3 weeks ago, and somehow just rememberjng kissing you as a butterfly in the 8th grade. We so cool baby ooh I did not forget. How could i?

Yah because when you add up every color ofvyhe rainbow, we are Black. And Black cannot be divided.

But any how, any way. Many ways yuppa! I don't know accents, habibi. So yeah I didn't ask you what your favorite flower is and ummmmmmohhhhhmmm yah kk but I did exchange my arms and legs for a dream of me and you, i and I, raven and hawk eyeing very multitudes of unsuoerstitious mountains. Yah, yesterday i touched a scarab and a beautiful roach brown as my dream of the Saharan desert brought me a bar of soap and tooth brush. What does it all mean my love?

Yo. I'm seeing you everywhere. Check this out! This might be all lies. Okay I don't know how. But yo the last line is true. Fr....

I didn't ever purchase an orchid for an empty house. Felt redundant. So yah. On my flight back home from a circle creating eyeshadow for 100000 years, I bought an orchid on my namez with your lips on my eye. I mean. Pardon me. With your eyes on my lips. Our children refuse to be made of stone habibi. So i ealized when I got to this blue sky with four wheels and forced air conditioning (ha, "air conditioning (!¡))

I see us kissing but I also realized I couldn't see us kissing before I earned how to drive a German made car through my own shadow lives and love along the way to empty house. So what I did was, I seen a giant o plastic jar of mayonnaise flail it's arms in the driver side windows and when it hit the ground it was asking me for something in a vocal tone like it was giving a command. Wasn't until I said No once that he spilled his guts. My second No this time threatened him with wind and rain. And yah my love, what is if a out men of a certain age can't stand the sound of our sacred glyohs together? And when I'm with my brothers, i do not want any broken hearts. At all. So instesd of saying No...I be teaching (learning) brotherly love by saying Nahhhhhhhhh (with as many H sounds as possible, you know? hhhhhhhhhhhhhĥaaaaaabibi!) ...what I meant to do on the way back from Chile is, I don't know. So what I'ma do instead? I let the orchid tell me what to do. She asked to sit in a pot ( ha ha, i tried to say no habibi ha ha) on my east side. Yah. By the time we got to 16th street on my block everything turned right, I turned off the clock and will not refuse to follow my dreams. I will not refuse to follow your dreams too. So what i did was, instead of pulling the "seat belt" around the orchid, i recited the entire Quran, New Testatment and Lankavatara Sutra out liud to myself, with nobody at all as my witness. And you know what this sweet orchid did? We did! Nah. Na naggin. No more bags. Hah. Yah. Why this sweet orchid suggested with a smile that i make a peace sign with the entire strength of my soul is and just hold the wheel with one hand and hold yhe pot (ha ha ha) with the orchid with these unsplicited two hands of prayer. Ah. Now everythjng is easy. Just your heart, just my heart. Ah.

Habibi. I love you

[dollycas]

Haunting License (A Haunted Haven Mystery) by Carol J. Perry #Spotlight / #Giveaway @KensingtonBooks

Haunting License (A Haunted Haven Mystery) Paranormal Cozy Mystery Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington (June 25, 2024) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 304 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496743601 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496743602 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CK5BGLGM Audiobook ASIN B0D1S48CG6 Audio CD ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CZ2F3SVS It’s June in Haven, Florida, a “between seasons” time in the tourism business, and Maureen’s Haven House Inn is feeling the pinch. There are plenty of ghosts in residence, but Maureen needs living guests to pay the bills. Inspired by an old brochure she finds in a trunk she inherited along with the inn from her mysterious benefactor Penelope Josephine Gray, she gets the brilliant idea to revive a June fishing tournament from twenty years ago, hoping to reel in anglers who’d love to catch the Gulf Coast’s popular kingfish and take home a trophy. But one fisherman won’t make it to the tournament. While walking on the beach with her golden retriever Finn, Maureen discovers a body. When Officer Frank Hubbard arrives, he recognizes local charter boat fisherman Eddie Manuel. Now it’s up to Maureen and her spirited sleuths to sort through the red herrings and bait a hook for a killer before someone else ends up sleeping with the fishes . . . About the Author - from GoodReads Carol J. Perry is the author of the Witch City Mystery series and the Haunted Haven series, both from Kensington Publishers. The Witch City stories take place in the magical city of Salem, Massachusetts--the "Witch City." Carol was actually born in Salem (on Halloween eve!) and knows the city well. The Haunted Haven books take place in Carol's adopted home state of Florida. As an experienced travel writer for magazines and newspapers, Carol knows her way around the Sunshine State too. The Salem books are based of course on a real city but Haven, Florida is made up of bits and pieces of some of the Sunshine State's charming older towns--bypassed by the theme parks. Readers of the Witch City books have come to know O'Ryan, a most remarkable cat. The new series introduces Finn, a lovable Golden Retriever. Carol lives in the Tampa Bay area of Florida with her husband Dan. Website    Facebook    Instagram  Also by Carol J. Perry Thanks to the publisher I have 1 Advance Reader Copy to give away! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Follow Kensington Books on Twitter for 2 Bonus Entries! Follow Kensington Publishing on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries! Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Threads, X, or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End August 23, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen Using Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Read the full article