#how to enjoy experimental film

[rrrauschen]

Larry Gottheim, {1970} Fog Line

[bluehairedspidey]

putting off homework until the last minute as a film major is so funny. watching an hour long movie 45 minutes before class on 2x speed

[glitchbirds]

just finished rewatching skinamarink and i really am firmly of the opinion that there are two types of detractors of this movie: ppl for whom it genuinely just isnt to their tastes (perfectly fine and normal and Neutral opinion to have about any film or piece of media in the world. especially for an 1hr40 minute long experimental film with a unique film style that is intentionally obscure), and people who bitch about duchamp's fountain

[kissohee]

idol!sungchan x idol!eunseok x fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 1.5k+ ☆ one-shot mdni! synopsis; car sex warnings; handjob, unprotected sex, breeding, sungchan and reader are in a relationship, shotaro and seunghan are in the car

It was very rare when staff allowed you to come along with Sungchan during schedules. And when you are, you and Sungchan are expected to be on your best behavior. Aka. In public you have to pretend to be staff and Sungchan has to pretend he doesn't care about you. Eventually, Sungchan got fed up with that and he begged the company for one of two things. You were allowed to be seen with him in public or he could bring you on any schedules he wants. The company was not on board for the whole open relationship idea, so they agreed to let you come along when wanted.

Only thing was that you would go in a different car and not the one Riize would go in. Not because the company didn't want you too, but because there was zero space. Unless they would split up the cars, then they'd allow you to be with him. You were watching Riize film something for some promotion thing you completely forgot the name of, only coming because Sungchan begged you prior to come along since he said it would take all day to do and that was supposed to be your day together. You had zero problem with it, you loved Riize. They were always so supportive and excited whenever you came along. And you enjoyed watching them shoot, mainly because Sungchan's arms were around you whenever he wasn't, but also because when he was, you get to stare at handsome Sungchan at work. "And that should be it!" The camera man turns the camera off, you watch as Sungchan makes his way towards you, placing a soft kiss on your lips before checking the time. "It's late, I'm gonna quickly get out of these clothes and we'll head home okay?" It wasn't that late, but the sooner you got out of there the better, you were starting to see the set every time you closed your eyes. Now for the unfun part, figuring out what the seating arrangement would be for the car ride back. After what felt like an extremely long discussion, you guys decided to split up. Anton, Sohee and Wonbin would go in one car while Shotaro, Seunghan, Eunseok, Sungchan and you would go in another. Sungchan made the point that someone in the other car should switch with him, so that you could also have a seat. But, the 3 were very stern about not switching, claiming they were really tired and wanted to stretch. Since no one was changing their mind, Sungchan accepted the fact that you would be sitting on his lap. Except he really didn't want that. Sungchan is very good at many things, but he is not good at self control, and today just happened to be a day where he really really needed you. It took everything in him to not drag you into a changing room and fuck you there while he was on break. So he opted to sitting in the back, so at least there could be slight privacy. What didn't cross his mind is that someone would have to be sitting in the back as well. After another, except this time, short discussion, they decided that Eunseok would sit in the back as well. The moment you sat on Sungchan, his hands held your thighs. Lightly squeezing them every few seconds. His breath hot on your neck. After a while, you were sure everyone else knocked out, tired from the past photoshoot. Sungchan however, was wide awake, having trouble resting his eyes due to how bumpy the ride was. Sungchan swears he was sent to hell with the way the route they were going had so many speed bumps. His clothed cock making contact with you with every jolt. He knew you felt it, there was no way you couldn't. "I need you."

You experimentally adjusted yourself on his lap, Sungchan lowly groaning in your eyes, stuffing his face in the back of your neck, "You can't wait like 20 minutes?" "They won't know." Technically, if you guys are discreet about it, you could probably get away with it. But it could also be incredibly risky. If someone catches you it could either result in their respect lowering for you, or you being banned from ever going to another schedule with Sungchan ever again. "Make it quick." "You don't have to worry about that," Sungchan wastes no time taking his cock out through the zipper of his pants, moving yours enough for access before pushing your panties to the side and stuffing himself in you. You hold onto the back of the seat in front of you, making sure not to disturb Shotaro sitting in it. He waited a second before thrusting up into you, forcing you to bite your lip to avoid making noises. You could never get used to how big Sungchan is, and normally you'd be a loud mess but this felt like a test from the devil himself. "I've been wanting to do this all day," Sungchan slams your hips down on his, "How I wished I was inside of you instead of doing that stupid photoshoot." "Sungchan.." You moan, loud enough for only him to hear you. His fingers dragging up your skin under your shirt, the warmth of his hands making you sweat. Despite Sungchan controlling your hips, you were unable to stop yourself from doing so as well. Bouncing on his cock soft enough to not make any noises, though is was pretty hard to cover the noise of how wet your pussy sounded every time he thrusted in. It wasn't until you swear you saw something move next to you, where you swear your heart stopped. "You guys are not discreet at all.." Sungchan stops, holding your hips tight, his cock deep inside you as you acknowledge the fact that the person right next to you, was in fact awake.

"Shit- Eunseok I'm sorry-" Sungchan he says quietly, just enough for the other male to hear. "It's fine." Eunseok manspreads slightly, "Just wished you could've let me know ahead of time." Sungchan keeps still, unsure to wether or not he should continue. On one hand, he really needs to cum, on the other, he doesn't want Eunseok to feel uncomfortable. "You guys can continue if you want, I'm not stopping you." The second Eunseok says that, Sungchan goes back to fucking up into you without saying a word back. You could feel eyes on you though, and that makes you let out a soft moan. You notice the way Eunseok warily palmed himself through his jeans, and it seemed you weren't the only one who noticed when you feel Sungchan tap you lightly. "Y/N help him." Eunseok stopped and moved his hand away, not seemingly too embarrassed that he got caught, "She doesn't have to if she doesn't wan- fuck.." You place your hand on top of his hard on, lightly massaging it the way he just was. You helped Eunseok unzip his pants, pulling his cock out from his boxers so your entire fist could work him. Eunseok and Sungchan were pretty close, but you never thought in your entire life of living that you would be in the back of a car getting penetrated by your boyfriend, while giving a handjob to another member of his group. Let alone the fact that Sungchan suggested it. Considering he was always pretty possessive, constantly saying he'd be pretty willing to knock a man out if they looked at you in any way. But maybe it's the fact that he knows you're his, and so he has nothing to worry about. You were too busy on the current circumstances to take realization in the way noises were made. A mix between Eunseok's pre cum and the movement of your hand made a wet sound that could be heard easily if you try really hard enough. One hand working his cock while the other focused mainly on his tip, Eunseok was seeing lights. You were all to aware of how close you were now, too determined on making Eunseok cum to even tell Sungchan. Although Sungchan didn't seem like he was in a communicative mood either, forcing your hips up and down his cock while he made low grunts. Your started to lose focus on your hands when you felt buildup in your lower stomach, "Sungchan please 'M gonna-" Sungchan knocks the words out of your mouth, forcing his cock to go as deep as it possibly could inside of you. The full feeling making your mind go numb as you orgasm all over Sungchan's cock. The sight alone sending Eunseok to his climax, his hips fucking up into you before twitching, cum shooting out onto your hand and the back of the seat in front of him, "Sh-shit.." You felt as Sungchan's cum filled you up, nails digging into the sides of your waist. He pulls out, fixing your panties so they hold his cum inside, finding the entire situation much hotter now that he returned to reality. Sungchan's arms wrapped around you when he felt you lose strength, resting on him behind you. He made circles with his fingers softly on the parts of your hips that he knew he held onto too harshly. "This was a one time thing," Sungchan looks at Eunseok, "It's never happening again, so if that thought's in your head, get it out." "Whatever you say man," Eunseok closes his eyes, hoping to find sleep in the small amount of ride there was left.

wrote this at 3am, night time is very dangerous for me - 🐠

[ivystoryweaver]

Experimental Freedom [1?] - Victor Frankenstein

Victor Frankenstein + master/servant + oral + overstimulation

Kinktober Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Victor Frankenstein x Female servant!Reader

Summary: How you went from chambermaid to free use laboratory assistant. (Free use would be in part 2 if anyone is interested. We haven’t officially met this Victor yet, so I’m not sure)

Note: Frankenstein experts and apologists probably won't like this not-novel-accurate/pre-film-release nonsense. It's just for fun

Word Count: 4.8k

Content: explicit, p in v, unprotected sex, water sex, overstim, multiple orgasms, oral - f. rec., nipple play, brief/mild impact play, animal experimentation, not beta'd, Victor calls reader "Petal"

You started as a chambermaid. It was an honor to serve the master of the house, no matter how��peculiar. Of course, men had valets, not chambermaids, but Master Frankenstein hired you to tend to him, so that’s what you did.

This put you in constant contact with the doctor, who wasn't actually a real medical doctor, but simply a scientist, and a member of the aristocracy.

You thought you must have imagined it when he caught your gaze in his bedchamber mirror. When his touch lingered on your wrist after you’d handed him an item he needed. How he devoured the sight of your cleavage as you scrubbed up his messes and served him breakfasts in bed.

Your mother, God rest her, used to say it was a tragedy that someone as lovely in countenance as you was so low born. The best you could hope for in a marriage was to perhaps find a wealthy merchant.

But your parents perished crossing the sea and you finished your childhood in an orphanage, with no patronage and no prospects. So a servant’s life it would be.

That’s not to say you had not enjoyed certain…intimacies. Since you had no reputation to speak of, you gave your body to the first handsome man to flatter you at age eighteen. He was a clumsy oaf in bed but he brought you flowers and gazed at you like you were an important thing.

He did the same with the next girl.

Next, the butler at the house at the end of the street bedded you. He wasn’t much to look at but he was an attentive lover, showing you how a female could be pleasured by a man.

Then you came to be in the service of Victor Frankenstein.

The man was twice your age but you were stunned by his lack of pretension in dealing with his household staff. And he was astonishingly handsome, with wild, untamed, dark curls and haunting brown eyes.

Of course, you could never wish for a dalliance with such a man - he was nobility and therefore incapable of seeing you as anything worth…pursuing.

Which is why, one October night, he truly and utterly shocked you.

Master Frankenstein had been spending more time in his laboratory of late. This scientific chamber was more of a dungeon, down a winding, stone staircase, a long passageway and behind a heavy, bolted door.

He had begun taking his meals in the lab, which made you the unfortunate soul who had to clamber down the eerie path with a tray full of a meal worthy of your master.

Your instructions were to leave the tray outside the door, knock three times and leave. You were to wait an hour - then go back to retrieve it. And you were the only one allowed down the stairwell at all.

Tonight, he was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairwell. He greeted you by name, startling you.

"Forgive me, Master Frankenstein," you hastily apologized, struggling to balance the tray of delectable foods without spilling everything, upsetting your master, and making a fool of yourself.

"Allow me." He rushed forward, graciously taking the tray from your hands.

"Oh. Thank you." Granting him a brief, respectful bow, your skin warmed as his fingertips brush your hand. Eyes flickered over his loosened linen shirt, which revealed his surprisingly smooth chest.

"Would you like to see my laboratory?" He called back over his shoulder, entering the door where no one had stepped foot except for him.

Automatically and wordlessly following, you heard him continue.

"You do not easily swoon, do you? I do not have the patience to train another chambermaid to serve me as perfectly as you do."

As he set the tray down on a table, you rushed to tidy it and begin serving him, but he brushed your hand away with the flick of his wrist.

Backing away obediently, you bowed, unsure of what to do now.

"You must be curious about my work," he stated plainly, nodding around him with a grand gesture. "Please look around. I shall eat."

"Yes, master," you agreed, feeling freer now to indulge your curiosity without appearing nosy or rude.

Shelf after shelf of glass bottles, beakers and potions lined the walls. Organized chaos, it seemed. Dust coated the shelves, while the vials, beakers and instruments appeared pristine.

"You have questions," he declared, after taking a long swig of wine. Wiping his mouth clean, he folded his arms over his chest. "Ask me anything and I will answer you truly."

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips. His attention and patience with you pleased you.

"What do you do here?"

Smiling knowingly, he rose and began pacing, explaining to you his attempts to better human life by replacing defective body parts. For example, if an internal organ were to fail, a different one could, perhaps, be harvested from another human, just deceased. Or perhaps, a limb could be replaced when someone lost one to injury or illness or a defect from birth.

"Come," he instructed, offering his hand.

Your eyes widened as you tentatively stretched out your fingers to accept his touch. His warm hand closed over yours and he guided you to a table where you beheld a frog. Several, actually, most of them dead, and a few, with legs removed.

As you shuddered and recoiled, he grasped your shoulders and steadied you, hushing you like a parent would a child and ordering you to be still.

"I have attached a new leg, and the frog survived," he explained. "I do not know yet if he can hop, however."

Although you were not expecting to examine chopped-up frogs, you found yourself more surprised that the master of the house held you so close to his body and breathed on your ear.

"Do you think me a monster?"

His nose brushed the spot behind your ear, strong fingers gripping your arms as he if were asking something more of you.

"N-no, of course not, master," you uttered, certain he meant not to imply any interest in you.

"Do you understand what it does to me to hear you call me 'master'?" He groaned, lips trailing down to the skin of your neck, exposed where your hair was neatly tucked into a bun. A quick bite made you yelp. Chills erupted all over your body as you felt his tongue soothe the offended skin.

"Yes...master," you breathlessly panted, wildly confused but unwilling to pry yourself away from the handsome and powerful scientist.

Releasing his grip on your arms, he let you go, taking a full step back to compose himself.

Slightly trembling, you turned around to face him, your cheeks flaming hot as you found him adjusting his prominent length in his trousers before scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his angled jaw.

"I have behaved poorly," he declared, eyes raking over your body, pausing where the swell of your breasts rose and fell dramatically at the low-cut collar of your dress. "Forgive me."

"Of course, master," you breathlessly replied, eyes downcast as you smoothed your clothes and collected yourself.

Easing closer, he caught your gaze, nodding behind you. "You do not think it wicked to torture a poor frog just to see what I can do with a limb?"

"I do not know of such things. I am only a maid."

His throat bobbed as dark eyes locked onto yours. "Very well. You may go."

With a hasty bow, you grabbed the tray of dishes and made your exit.

Thoughts of his heated breath on your neck, his tongue on your skin, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your arms haunted and bewitched you the rest of the day. Of course, it wasn't unheard of for a master of the house to satiate his desires in the members of his staff from time to time, but Victor had never come some close to you as he had today. Nothing more than indulgent glances at your breasts.

Even if he bedded you, it would go nowhere. At worst, he would use you like an object and at best, he would bring you pleasure in return. But it would ultimately mean nothing.

As your thoughts lingered on the unknowable depths of his earthen eyes, the square cut of his jaw, the plush fullness of his lips, you felt yourself dampen between your legs, and you knew then, that you would allow any advances he made.

You didn't have to wait long.

Master Frankenstein worked late into the night, ignoring the evening meal tray you left outside the laboratory, and stumbling back into his room as you were turning down his bed.

He called you by name and you gasped at the sight of his clothes, hands and cheeks soiled with blood and other fluids.

"Master, allow me to draw you a bath."

He nodded, grumbling out a 'thank you' as he pulled his linen shirt over his head.

"I'll have food brought as well," you added, collecting his soiled shirt, but he reached for your elbow, grasping gently. "No food. I am quite tired."

"Of course," you bowed respectfully, trying not to stare as he kicked off his boots and dropped his trousers. Quickly setting aside his clothes, you scurried to prepare his bath, while he decided to shave, standing completely naked right beside you.

"Forgive my impropriety. My work has exhausted me," he attempted to explain several minutes later. "Will you wash me?"

Without realizing it, you wet your lips hungrily, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on his handsome face and not the beautifully sculpted lines and planes of his body.

Moments later, he sank into the warm water, head resting against the tub's edge as his eyes drifted closed. You had assisted the scientist with certain somewhat intimate tasks before, but he had never outright showed you his cock and asked that you bathe him.

Shallow breaths huffed through your lips as you reached for a cloth and dipped it into the water's warmth. With trembling fingers, you dragged the rag over his muscled chest, freezing as his eyes popped open to meet yours. He stared at you openly, fully, for a full minute before his eyes inevitably traveled down the smooth column of your neck to your heaving breasts. In this position, leaned forward and kneeling, he could see the fullness of them.

"You are very beautiful," he whispered, sitting up in the bath, which brought his lips dangerously close to the tempting line of your cleavage. "I worked all day and night trying to banish my wicked thoughts of you. I can see now that I have failed."

Wet fingers reached up to tug the laces holding your dress closed at your bosom. "I think if I do not taste you, I shall die."

He tugged and pulled until your breasts sprang free, full and ripe, nipples hard and straining, begging for his touch and attention. Breath and plush lips ghosting the swell of one breast, he cupped the other one gently, groaning in satisfaction as he massaged the soft flesh.

"I am your master," he choked out, restraining himself one moment longer. “But will you stay of your own free will?”

"I am yours to command, master," you gasped even as he sucked your nipple between his lips.

Your back arched, so sensitive and responsive to his touch, thrusting your breast further into his mouth, which he devoured hungrily. Dropping the cloth in your hand, your fingers found his wet curls, twisting through them and drawing him closer still to your bosom.

Hungry lips sucked at your soft skin, marking you for him, leaving a path from your nipples to your chest, along your collarbone, over the smooth column of your throat and finally, his mouth sought yours out - wet and demanding as he cupped your face in his hands and slid his tongue inside your mouth.

He didn't kiss you like any lover before him. Not like the bumbling eagerness of your first lover, nor like a self-assured man who treated you like the next whore in line. There was a dizzying experience to his kissing - he was no stranger to it, but he had nothing to prove. He was a wealthy, aristocratic scientist, who already had your obedience and all the time in the world to take with you.

You surprised yourself by how boldly you kissed him back, raking your hands through his curls and pulling him closer until your naked breasts pressed to his bare, solid chest, and closer still, until you lost your balance and began to tumble into the tub with him.

A chuckle rumbled in Victor's chest as he gathered you to his naked body, dress and all, even as you stammered out an apology.

With one firm shake of his head, he tutted, dismissing your fears. "Take this off," he instructed, tugging at your dress, "and bathe with me. Your master commands it."

Eyes locked onto his, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, holding his gaze even while you obeyed him. "Yes, master. I will do everything you wish."

He smirked knowingly, helping you shed the heavy fabric weighing you down, before reverently tracing the shape of your bare shoulder. "You may come to regret such a declaration, my soft, sweet petal."

Finally free of the obstruction, your soaked dress plopped to the floor, leaving you wet, naked and draped over your master, whose hands roved all over your curves, pulling you against him as his mouth sought yours again.

His cock pressed against your abdomen, hands grasping the globes of your ass, squeezing demandingly. Gripping your hips, he shifted your body until the hot core of you rubbed up and down the length of his shaft.

Tearing his mouth from yours, he reached between your bodies to drag his fingers between your folds. "Are you a virgin, Petal?"

Seeing you hesitate, his fingers slipped between your folds and found your clit, rubbing tempting circles over it. "Whatever your answer, it will not displease me. Do I need to open you up to take this cock?"

Almost involuntarily, your hips shifted, grinding against his hand as he fingered you open, teasing your clit with his thumb as one digit slipped inside, tauntingly inching toward the spongy softness.

"I am no virgin," you panted, "but not extremely...experienced either." Your eyes dipped demurely even as he boldly slid a second finger into your eager hole. "But I confess, you are...well endowed. Thicker and longer...and it has been some time."

Hearing your sweet lips utter things about the size of his cock had it twitching against your thigh, aching to bury it in your sweet cunt.

His eyes darkened with desire as you rocked against his hand, lips falling open as he stretched you with a third finger, shoving them deep inside you.

Hardly able to contain yourself, you fucked yourself faster on his fingers, tits bouncing in the water as you chased your pleasure. He didn't mind a woman with a little experience, especially for what he had planned for you.

He sucked your nipple into his mouth, rubbing you faster and faster until your body seized in ecstasy, pleasure surging through every part of you. Gripping his shoulders for support, you gave yourself over to it wholly. It had been so long since anything other than your own fingers gave you any pleasure, and never anyone so handsome or stately as Victor.

Before you could come back to yourself, he positioned your hips, notching his tip at your drenched folds, so wet and hot, even more so than the cooling bath.

You felt him enter you, thick and heavy, pushing in slowly, filling your fluttering cunt deliciously. Just when you thought he'd sheathed himself inside you fully, you rocked your hips, hissing suddenly as more and more of his length plunged inside.

"Too much?" He taunted, pushing in further still. "Be obedient and take all your master's cock."

"Yes, master," you panted, finally feeling the end of him stretch you wide open. With difficulty, you began to undulate beneath the water's surface, riding your master even as the sting of it made you want to lie down and give up - to simply let him use you, fuck you open, spill his seed and then let you recover.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you lifted up to better control your movements, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position. A soft sigh of relief left your lips as you started to ride him faster.

"You are certainly no virgin," he murmured against your throat, arms winding around your back, pressing and pulling you into him intimately. "You know how to fuck a man."

His bold words gave you pause. Perhaps he wanted a woman more innocent.

"Do not stop," he ordered you, easing back to look into your eyes. "I've not bedded such a beautiful woman in too long."

"Master, I - "

"Obey me," he lowly growled, gripping your hips and moving you back and forth, faster and rougher, until water overflowed out of the side of the tub, drenching the floor. "You said you are mine to command."

"Yes, master," you gasped, wrapping your arms behind his neck and sinking down on his length, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. The wet heat surrounding your bodies, sloshing loudly, making a mess of everything as you ravaged one another urged you to ride him faster, drawing a desperate moan from your throat.

Embarrassed that someone might hear you, you clamped your palm over your lips but he roughly jerked it away.

"Give your sounds to me," he panted as your slick, naked body bounced deliciously. "I want to hear what this cock does to you."

His filthy words went straight to your core, which clamped down hard around his length. Back arching, your walls fluttered around him, drawing his own orgasm out of him with a strangled cry. He gripped your shoulders and held you against him, making sure you took every drop of his spend until you slowed your rocking and melted against his chest.

He stroked your back soothingly, allowing you to come back to yourself, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheeks, and finally, as you turned your face up to his, he kissed your mouth, slow and deep as he softened inside you.

He tasted you and held you until the cool air kissing your skin alerted you to the fact that his bath and grown cold, and you still had not washed him. Sitting up abruptly, you pushed wet hair out of your eyes, hastily apologizing.

"You have given yourself to me. No apology is needed," he assured you, standing to help you out of the tub. "Let us quickly wash and I will find us something suitable to wear."

"Yes master," you whispered, scurrying to move quicker than him, and feeling awkward at the thought that Master Frankenstein would need to serve himself in any way.

The sight of your concerned flurry, while stark naked stirred something domestic inside him, and, at the sight of your bare ass bent over to scoop up your drenched dress, his hands reached for the swell of your hips from behind.

You flinched in surprise, quickly turning to face him, but he mistook it for you briefly for withdrawing from his attention.

"Forgive me," you both uttered simultaneously, sharing a soft laugh.

Easing toward you, he reached for your hand. "Will you be able to relax in my company, especially now that I've been inside you?"

Wetting your lips, you found yourself mesmerized by his water-slicked hair, and droplets dancing on his long eyelashes.

"You speak boldly, Master Frankenstein, as is your right," you diplomatically responded. "I do not know if I have earned the right to speak as plainly as you."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Say anything you wish. I will not hold against you."

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, you glanced around you. "I have only this dress to wear. I-I should dress myself and draw you a new, hot bath before cleaning up this mess. I know you are very tired after your day."

With a small, knowing smile, he lifted the sopping dress from the floor. "Are you not also tired? Is your work day not also long?"

You weren't sure how to respond, so he took charge, as usual.

"I wish for us to quickly wash, ring out this dress and lie down in my bed."

"Yes, master." You quickly got to work, both of you doing as Victor instructed.

What you did not expect was to be laid nude across the softest, warmest bed your skin had ever touched. Victor slid into bed beside you, clean and naked. He pulled you close to his chest and covered your mouth with his own, kissing you deeply.

Your cold skin warmed quickly and you moaned into his mouth as he slid one muscular thigh between your legs, pushing the meat of his thigh between your wet folds.

He held you and kissed you for so long, a tiny sliver of your mind began to feel like his lover, safe in his bed, cherished and adored. Even more so when he kissed a trail down your throat to your breasts, where he kissed and sucked your nipples until your slick desire pooled and dripped onto the sheets.

Down further he went, kissing and littering your stomach with sucks and marks until his nose nudged between your legs. He paused, glancing up at you with hazy eyes through long lashes. “I want to experiment with your cunt."

The strange request confused you, but a breathy 'yes' fell from your lips. Once again, his bold words made you crave him even more.

You didn't realize then what you were agreeing to.

Victor dragged his hot tongue through your folds, collecting your juices before settling in, pulling your thighs over his shoulders, and placing a pillow underneath your hips. He spent the next half hour tracing every fold and exploring each crevice with nothing more than the tip of his tongue, from your clit all the way to your puckered hole. You were panting from the slightest stimulation, but there wasn't enough friction yet for you to come.

Next, he sampled you with his lips, sucking and kissing and hotly breathing over your folds, over and over until a whine from your mouth prompted his lips finally up to your clit. He massaged the swollen bud with his lips, but so feather-light, it felt like only a tease.

Your hands twisted in the sheets as he taunted you, ghosting your most sensitive spot with breath and brushes of his lips but never really lavishing you with the strokes and sucks and licks you craved.

Hearing you whimper again, he raised his head. "Tell me," he ordered. "As your master for what you need."

"Please," you cried, your hips bucking upward.

"Ask me," he repeated. "Beg your master."

"Your mouth, please," you gasped. "Put your lips on me. Suck me."

He swatted your cunt with his hand. The sharp sting granted you a moment of delicious friction and you moaned loudly.

"You presume to command me?"

"Please master," you begged.

He seemed pleased enough to lower his mouth back to your clit and gently suck it between his lips. Even that slight bit of friction and contact after so much temptation and teasing caused your back to arch wildly off the bed.

Smiling against your pussy, he worked his lips over and over your clit, sucking and and kissing and rolling his tongue over it until, only moments later, you gushed all over his mouth, gasping in pleasure.

After such a build up and delicious release, your body collapsed, craving sleep, but his experiment had only just begun. Without warning, he sucked at your sensitive bud again, for a full minute, pulling whining moans from your throat at the overstimulation.

He kept going, sinking the meat of his tongue into your core, gripping your thighs to pull you down, moving your limp body to fuck you on his tongue. It felt so good, but it was too much - you were too sensitive and he was relentless, plunging his tongue in and out of your hole as his nose nudged at your tender clit over and over again.

This time, he didn't wait for begging, he simply took, dragging you closer to another, harder climax which shook your body from head to toe, and brought guttural, filthy sounds and curses from your lips. You'd never come so hard in your life. It sent fiery pleasure surging through your body down to your fingertips and toes, contracting every muscle before it completely wiped you out and left you boneless.

But he would not relent. This time, his tongue collected your copious juices, laving a trail downward. Your body tensed as he toyed with parts of you no one had dared touch before, but it wasn't long before his lips kissed a trail back up to your clit. He sucked hard and the overstimulation you felt made you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Victor, please," you begged, without realizing your error. You were half out of your mind, after all, with pleasure and now, the slightest big of nerve-searing pain.

He lifted up from between your legs, chin and lips glistening with your slick. "The sound of my name on your lips pleases me." And he dove back in.

Your mind went blank as he coaxed orgasm after orgasm from your exhausted body. Nothing in your life had ever felt so simultaneously painful yet so wonderfully delicious.

The next morning you awoke, groggy, naked, but clean. Quickly climbing out of bed, you tried to get your bearings. Victor finished dressing himself as you scrambled to your feet, apologizing profusely.

A luxurious robe lay across the end of the bed and Victor nodded toward it. "Put that on. Your dress is being cleaned and new dress will be delivered this afternoon."

"Y-yes, master," you stammered, quickly tying the elegant garment around your body, realizing you'd never felt such expensive fabric against your skin.

"Thank you, for your kindness, but...how should I go about my work day in a robe?"

"Take the day off," Victor shrugged. "When was the last day you took some time for yourself?"

You had no idea how to answer that. You typically received two days a month off, which was one more than most servants.

"But I had last Tuesday off, and who will serve your meals? Who will - "

"I require your services in the laboratory today," he interrupted. He then explained that he would have food brought to the top of the stairs for you to retrieve and bring the rest of the way to the lab.

The two of you took your morning meal together around an hour later, and Victor noticed how clearly uncomfortable you felt parading around his laboratory in a robe while shirking your duties.

"I apologize for what happened to your dress," he said softly as you gathered up the dirty dishes. Laying his hand on your arm, he halted your bustling. "Forgive me, Petal."

"Master Frankenstein, there is nothing to forgive. You've been more than generous. Indulgent, even. I do not even know what to say."

"Say you will quit worrying yourself."

"I cannot."

"You'll disobey my order?"

Your eyes dipped once more. "Of course not. I will obey anything you wish."

Victor motioned for you to empty your hands. Reaching for your hips, he guided you close to him, taking a seat on a stool as you stood before him.

"There is something I wish of you. I want you to give your body over completely to my control."

You fidgeted in his embrace, your skin heating at his proposition. "You mean...the way it was last night, in your bed?"

Pulling at the tie of your robe, he slowly nodded. "That and more." The robe fell open, revealing your naked body. "So very much more." Brushing the back of his fingers across your abdomen, he pressed his lips to your flesh, nuzzling between your breasts as chills erupted all over your skin.

"Say yes," he coaxed, mouthing at the swell of your breast. "Say your body and soul belong to me - utterly."

"Yes," you panted as his breath fell in heated puffs over your nipple.

This was how you came to be in a new kind of service to your Master Frankenstein, and how you found your wrists and ankles fastened to a laboratory table by metal cuffs, unsure of whether you would experience pleasure or pain. Or both.

Kinktober Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[royalsunshinehotel]

Love and appreciate your Dev content!! Would you consider writing more monkey man kid x reader - maybe something where he praises and talks the reader through it, starting gentle and then figuring out he can be rougher because reader likes it that way. He would start out wincing through the pain caused by his fighting, but eventually forget about that. Praise/dominance part inspired by him saying "good girl, do you like that?" to the dog in the film 🥵

Good (Kid x Reader, drabble, 18+)

He thinks you're adorable. It's a part of why he keeps coming back to see you. You'd do the same, if you knew anything about him.

But for now, you don't need to know. He's come to you after a rough night at the Temple, and what started as you putting his pieces back together, has once again ended with you, flat on your back.

You'd always gotten the sense that he was being careful with you, whenever he worked you open for him, feeling his mouth on the most sensitive parts of you. It always felt as if he was holding back.

A small knot of guilt twisted in your belly, you know.

You know he's in pain, and he's fucking you anyway. He should be convalescing on your couch, not ....whatever this is.

He hits a new angle and you gasp into his mouth, foreheads pressed together. He doesn't have to hold back...

"Harder," You all but whimper into his mouth, "I want it harder."

The words make him pause, large brown eyes staring into your own. Whoever he was, he saw right through you, even now.

His shoulder stopped hurting a long time ago, and he'd even go as far to say he was enjoying himself, enjoying you.

"Harder?" He confirms, "Like that?" He catches your moan with his mouth, after snapping his hips down into you. It was experimental, if you said "never mind", he'd forget it.

You think it's pathetic, how your eyes practically roll back. The effect he has on you is embarrassing.

He on the other hand, thinks you're lovely. You have to be an angel, floating into his life, trying to heal him, trusting him even though you have no reason to. It occurs to him that there will be a day he'd have to give you up.

Not yet, he thinks.

"Yes..." You trail off, "more please!" He chuckles lightly at how polite you were, even now. And he continues with a harsher pace, a tighter grip.

Your hand finds his, and moves it to your throat. His eyes go round at that, as he takes a comfortable grip. Alright...

Your wail comes out stifled against his mouth, as he tries to soothe you against the harsh pleasure of him, "Good...good girl, there we are..."

He bats his wet eyes at you, and suddenly your breath escapes you. You clamp down around him, clawing at your lover, "Always so good to me, that's it."

You're beautiful, and worn out. You smile sleepily into his mouth, fluttering, as you let him chase relief for himself.

[whereserpentswalk]

You have a computer that can access the internet of any dimension. You don't have the ability to physically go places, just to observe them and interact with them through this one machine.

Sometimes you'll just do it for fun. Seeing other timeline's versions of sites and the content that's created there. Getting to see work from artists if they hadn't sold out or moved on. Or getting to see what YouTube is like in a world where it never become corpratized. Or get to go on Vine in a world where vine exists in 2024. You've read writing from Shakespeare if he had been sent to the new world, seen stories from Lovecraft if he had unlearned his bigotry, seen experimental films from George Lucas if star wars had floppe, heard music from Kurt Cobain if he hadn't died young.

And you've gone off to weirder places to. You've seen what political discourse is like in a world where Constantine converted to Buddhism instead of chrsitianity, where that's the dominant religion of the west. And you'll see conservatives talking about how sjws are undermining the west's Buddhist values, or YouTube videos talking about chrsitantiy as this forgotten dead religion from the crisis if the third century. And you asked someone in the comments of that video what they thought a world would be like if chrsitanity survived, and they said it was impossible, that it was doomed to die out just because it did.

And you've talked to people from a world where humanity lives underground, where an apocalypse made the surface of the world uninhabitable, and every human on earth lives in massive subterranean complexes. You talked to them about what they wanted, if they wanted to see the sun, see the forests and the birds and the creatures that they knew were above them, and most of them didn't really want it. Most of them didn't really want to see the surface, they had grown up having never seen it, it didn't bother them, they were confused why anyone would be that committed to finally go somewhere that humans weren't. And there was one person who told you they did always really want to see it, that it's their hyperfixation, but that they'd obviously go back with the other humans if they had the chance, that they couldn't live somewhere without them.

And you've seen a world where humans where dead, where only robots and ai and cyborgs were still around. And even though they couldn't touch you, you were afraid, because you thought they would hate you. But they didn't, on every site where they talked about humans they talked about how cool you were, and how much aprication they had for their culture. And when you made a post asking if they'd want to hurt humans if they saw them, everyone who replied called you weird.

You've seen the internet in a world where cryptids and monsters are real. And you ended up on a forum for vampires. And you asked a newly turned vampire how they felt, and they said it was cold, that their body felt so cold, but it was still their body, and that they still wanted to live, still wanted to find a way to enjoy their life even if they didn't like their body.

And you've seen a world where all humans are completely aroace, and don't desire sex or romance at all. And you decided to upload sexual and romantic art, and even fetish art, to one of their sites. And the people there loved it, despite not understanding its purpose, they loved the way the artist depicted the world, saw it as so unique and strange, as something weirdly beautiful, and not at all gross, because nobody ever told them such things were gross.

And you've made online freinds from other worlds. People who you can never touch, never see, but who you see through their words. You've comforted someone who doesn't exist in your world, from a country that doesn't exist in your world, but you've comforted them, and made sure they don't get hurt or hurt themself, from very far away, because despite everything you can't help but care.

Mabye the internet isn't that bad. Mabye the world isn't all horrible. Mabye people aren't that bad.

[gilverrwrites]

Castiel NSFW Headcanons

Pairing: Castiel / GN!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: to give yourself time to rest.

Warning: Very brief mention of non/dub-con. Cas is kinda pervy and I love that for him.

Wants to and will deliver the most excellent and diligent aftercare, but you have to be vocal and specific about it. Communication is good, tell him what you need, and he will do it, everytime.

Actually prefers receiving oral over giving. Don’t get it twisted, he thoroughly enjoys the effect it has on you, and will do it over and over for you, but it’s a sensory thing. There’s just so many particles, and molecules on his tongue, it can be overwhelming.

Incidentally like A++ when it comes to dirty talk. He doesn’t really have a filter so he will have no problem telling you what he likes, how he’s feeling. Will check on you aften.

Does that feel good? Do you enjoy when I touch you like this? You look so beautiful when you cum for me. I love the way you feel around me.

However, until/unless you teach him the slang terms and how to use them, he will refer to most body parts by their anatomical names.

Is a top, but is very open to experimentation. Is happy to and enjoys bottoming/being pegged.

A switch, with predominately dom tendances.

Taking charge comes easily to him, and he can be very impatient/intolerant of having his orders disobeyed. Bratty behavior can be fun for him, if you’re into that sort of thing, but prefers service subs who will do as told and do it well. But does not like to be the boss all the time. He likes it when you top him, especially for slow, sensual sex.  If you’re more experienced than him and can show him new positions or foreplay.

On the subject of positions, top 3: Face-off, cowgirl, and seashell.

Art by Emily Schiff-Slater

Will ask/scold you to keep your eyes open and look at him frequently. Really enjoys watching your expressions/reactions, particularly your eyes.

Doesn’t like to restrain you with ropes and the likes, but does like using his body and/or his grace to pin you down and have his way with you.

Let him hold you down, get nice and deep inside, then look up at him with glazed eyes and let out a whimper; he may just cum on the spot.

Can and will go for hours if you let him, stamina is not an issue for him.

Especially for cock-warming. On the rare occasion he has downtime, he will happily spend all day with you on his lap, cock inside you just idly chatting, examining and teasing you as you gradually get more wound up and needy for him.

His wings and the space around their base (in between the shoulder blades) are highly sensitive. Just the brush of your finger is enough to get him riled up.

You have to inform him that it’s found upon to discuss your sex life unprompted with other people. Unless that doesn’t bother you.

Dean: Where the hell were you man?!? We’ve been prayin’! Cas: I heard you. I was busy engaging in coitus with [name]. ____ Sam: Cas I’m trying to explain something here, what is so important on your phone? Cas: [name] has sent me a photograph of their [redacted], I am uncertain of the best way to respond.

Does not particularly like sexting, as he finds it hard to concisely convey his thoughts through text. BUT he does get a thrill out of seeing and having your nudes be so easily accessible and for his eyes only.

Seldom masturbates but does watch a lot of porn. It’s for “research” in “understanding humans”. Totally not for inspiration.

If you suggest making your own DIY porn, he will jump on it. There may be some technical teething issues, but he is determined not to let that stop you. Would film it from the nightstand of something, not POV as he still wants to get lost in the moment and not have to worry about filming you from just the right angle.

Secretly a voyeur. Prior to any sexual/romantic relationship he may have ‘accidentally’ popped up and caught a glimpse (or more) of you, or his other human acquaintances getting their rocks of (be they alone, or with other people). During any relationship he likes watching you touch yourself, sometimes he’ll ask you to let loose and do it however you like, sometimes he prefers a more guided approach. So, telling you, where to touch, how much pressure, if and when you can reach your climax.

And of course, frottage/thigh riding. Watching you grind on him, per instruction, until you cum makes him giddy.

Very much enjoys a good cream pie. Typically, he’s not really into (his own) cum, it’s sticky and messy. But he cannot deny the rush of pride he feels when he see’s his own cum seeping out of you.  

Is often commando, it just feels more freeing, and allows for easer access. Yes he could just use his angel mojo, but there’s something more fun and a little sordid about doing it himself, or better yet, having undress him.

Same goes for you. He prefers stripping you by hand. It allows him more time to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his, to tease all the points of you that he knows makes you squirm.

[deep-sea-scholar]

Okay I need to rant about Glass Onion for several paragraphs

WARNING: SPOILERS!

Glass onion is phenomenal, and I personally enjoyed its themes more than the first Knives Out movie.

Now don’t get me wrong, Knives Out is arguably the better film, but its strengths lie in the complexity and brilliant execution of its core mystery.  It’s a fantastic self-contained story about a shitty rich family and the people they directly affect.  The members of the family range across the political spectrum and all express different ideologies, but the moment a migrant working-class woman has a legitimized shot at their inheritance they band together to prevent her from improving her life.  It's interesting commentary on how wealthy people can talk a big game about helping others and being good people, but ultimately fall morally short when such actions threaten what they feel they “rightfully deserve.” But that's arguably the limitation of the film as its focus is entirely on the interpersonal conflict between the Thrombey family and Marta.

Glass onion isn’t limited by that.

The entire thematic core of Glass Onion concerns the damage that the rich and powerful can do to the world if they aren’t supervised, criticized, or limited. 

Aside from our lovely detective Benoit Blanc, the murdered Andi Brand, and her twin sister Helen, all of the characters are shitty people that are damaging the world in a uniquely horrible way as a direct consequence of the unchecked power and wealth they wield.

To start we have Governor Claire Dubella.  Her success in her political career has relied almost entirely on monetary support and influence from the films big bad and Elon Musk/Jeff Bezos analogue Miles Bron. Her platform has good objectives, and she’s passionate about hard topics like climate change, but her ability to act is entirely limited by the influence Miles has on her.  If Miles wants her to do something, she feels like she has no choice but to, which results in her greenlighting an experimental powerplant that Miles wants built to advocate for his new fuel source.  It’s untested technology, it’s volatile and dangerous as fuck, and Claire feels like she has no choice but to go along with it because if she doesn’t Miles will withdraw support from her career, or worse, support her opponents.  She likens it to selling her soul, and it really is.  She willingly undermined the health of her constituents for the sake of saving her career, and the shitty part is that Miles only controls her because she lets him.  She could deny the power plant, or leave Miles, at any time, but she doesn’t because she perceives the personal risk as to great.  She is a politician that won’t stand up for the people she represents, and no one calls her out on it.

Next, we have Duke Cody, the Alpha male men’s rights streamer who is just like, the absolute worst person in this film.  His views and opinions are incredibly toxic, his actions and beliefs directly hurt the people he influences through the hurtful products he promotes, and thanks to Mile's wealth and influence both he and his terrible, terrible, terrible opinions have official backing and some form of legitimacy.  He’s almost the direct inverse of Claire, being someone who really shouldn’t have support, but is getting it anyway because he’s Mile’s friend.  And because Miles doesn’t care and is giving Duke support and helping him dodge legal trouble, he enables Dukes terrible opinions and lets them influence and hurt people.  

Then we have Birdie, my personal favorite of the disruptors.  She is a fashion designer, media star, and breathtakingly, beautifully, stupid. She’s not actively malicious like some of the other characters, but she is just so fundamentally incapable of thinking things through. When paired with her wealth and influence, this results in horrifying real-world consequences.  She has her iconic fashion line of sweatpants made at the most infamous sweatshop in Bangladesh not because she doesn’t care, but because she thought a sweatshop is just a shop where you make sweatpants.  She’s just very stupid, but at the very least has the decency to be aware of it.  She even decides to own up to her Bangladesh mistake of her own volition, independent of the plot.  The problem is that no one corrected for her, or guided her, or worked to influence her decisions.  Miles just cared about what her brands could do for him and was perfectly willing to throw her under the bus to preserve his image.

Last of the four Disruptors is Lionel Toussaint.  Not much to say about him actually, he’s fairly straightforward.  He works directly under Miles as a scientist and is a parallel for the people that want to have confidence in tech ‘pioneers’ like Elon Musk.  After all they’ve been successful, and things have worked out in the past, surely, we can give them leeway with new technology development.  But there’s a reason why technology is prototyped and tested, and that’s because things always go wrong, and you need to take time and care to figure out how to ensure new technology is safe.

Which leads us to this asshole.

Miles goddamn Mona Lisa Burning Bron.

The absolute, motherfucking, shithead moron directly responsible for everything bad that happens in this film.

I lied about Duke Cody because this absolute buffoon is the actually the worst person in this film.

He manipulates politicians into endangering their constituents for his own gain, he enables the absolute worst and most toxic people by giving them legitimate platforms, he promotes influencers without caring for what their unchecked actions result in, and he deludes the people that work for him and want to believe in him with self-assured delusion.  This man is arrogant, an indiscribable moron (worse than Birdie because at least she acknowledges her failings), dangerously delusional, obsessed with control, and most damning of all, unchecked.

Miles Bron is a direct look at how too much unchecked power, wealth, and influence results in unmitigated disasters.  He doesn’t care about helping people, because he doesn’t take the time to make sure untested technology is safe for the public, handwaving legitimate concerns with denial and false assurance.  He doesn’t care about his friends, because he murders two of them the instant, they become a threat to his control.  He’s not smart, because all of his genius is the result of other people, he’s just skilled at advertising it as his own to get the credit.  All he cares about is doing what he wants and being in control, because his opinion and self-worth and legacy is more precious to him than any other thing in the world.  The man is a lie so absolute, so convoluted, and so stupidly straightforward that the slightest piece of truth will bring the facade of his existence crumbling down.  And it’s hard to acknowledge something like that in the real world because someone that successful being that malicious and dumb sounds incredibly stupid.  It’s an easy lie to buy because it’s more believable than how stupid the truth is.

Anyway, ultimately my conclusion is that we see a strikingly accurate portrayal of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk in this film, and it was very cathartic seeing their hopes, ambitions, and house burn down around them.  Because billionaires like them are shithead morons that lie to and manipulate everyone, and their arrogant and harmful self-delusions compound through the people they manage to influence.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[cupcraft]

Ranboo rebrand stream important stuff in one single post!:

if anything i missed pls rb and add on!

chat etiquette! They are going to be more strict with this (but not for new chatters honest mistakes).

Ban 101 -> the number 1 rule:

racism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, discrimination. Instant ban, no excuse. Even bigoted jokes! 0 tolerance! you will be banned from even viewing the streams. This even counts on doing it on other streamer's chats/platforms if found out!

More rules: be funny (please!) and chill and kind and use emotes (including BTTV), dont spam chat (will be fixed/enforced bc of past issues),

other tidbits/news:

the vtuber/stuff will evolve over time, there are different vtuber outfits/costumes planned (ex they have an mcc outfit already!), the room in the background will change, they will be reaching out to ppl for collabs (feel free to recommend people but do not spam their chats!), planning to do more irl streams (will be weird/experimental and they will go wild! They will be making weird stuff!), they also have plans that they are excited to tell and its been a long time coming (this may be the cake video but i couldnt tell in stream), ranboo bakes a cake 2 will be coming TOMORROW on youtube (23 mins and incredible! they laughed at themself), ranboo plans to do experimental stuff on youtube (they have gotten into film lately!), founder's cut of gen 1 of genloss will be coming out 2-3 months ?? date/end of year, the vtuber ranjacket will be a part of the merch drop prototype at vidcon (physical jacket!), will be doing competitive/events with people (like organized little thing) (content/what it is undetermined) and he wants it to be obscure and random, ranboowaslive will start to ramp up a bit (more clips/compilations to come esp if you dont enjoy long vod watching), ranboo will be eating a nintendo DS cartridge live on stream (a joke!), MORE SURPRISES KEPT AS A SECRET + tiny plans in the works, they are moving into the new place/still have boxes to unpack (vtuber lore), he may finish the last of us part 2, subathon (really like back to back fun streams/long streams/playthrough of long games like omori) in january probably, splatoon may return,

What does the new era mean/qna stuff?

talking about old content is fine as long as you recognize that it is the PAST and not the kind of content ranboo makes now. Do not "put them back in the box".

Vtuber: will not be used all the time. They will do facecam streams too. Depends on how he feels.

why the r800: the 8 looks like a b LMAO

this is just the start of rebrand. He will re-establish a lot, things will be easier to find/reorganized, slowly over the weeks things will be changing.

what will happen tothe alt twitter (ranaltboo)?: new pfp, same energy (see below my shitty sc). art creds to mochi!

not only just a rebrand for him and the look of the content. But also it is a rebrand of how they act around and view their own content. they may not be as in the community as he has been (liking fanart/in chat/etc.) out of recommendation from people! If ranboo needs to be aware of something THEY HAVE PEOPLE to make him aware of important issues/emergencies and they will be focusing more on themself and the content overall. they are thankful to be allowed to do this, as they dont want to keep seeing things they dont want to see/have that anxiety. Less scrolling = more content!

They will probably have longer streams again!

will move to more mature jokes/phrases and may have content labels on the streams. Overall, streams will be pg-13 mostly.

TITS stands for twitch integrated throwing system [insert ranboo's giggle here]

All proceeds donated to ranboo's channel only go to charity! Not to them at all! They have a list of charities that he supports and will be changed 1-3 months at a time like usual!

Please make stuff. This is how he gets ppl who edit and the emote makers/artists. Not forced. Just encouraging ppl who make stuff to make stuff and he appreciates it and loves it! Even if it is not about him just make it! AND SUPPORT ARTISTS BOOBERS!

[absolutebl]

GMMTV 2024 BL Line Up

Ranked by the ones I'm most excited about at the top.

We Are

adaptation from a y-novel, stars PondPhuwin (yay! I didn't think they'd be back) - Trailer | MDL

University friendship BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawin - basically ALL the pairs, in the good kind of messy friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is gay. I'm IN!

Only Boo

Trailer

New main couple in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks, grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, to become an idol baby boy can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

Wandee Godday

Trailer

AllThis Entertainment producing a very pulp offering for GMMTV with new pair GreatInn doing high heat boxer meets surgeon. It features a one night stand, fake relationship, and all the cheesiest of tropes. Also features Drake, Podd, and Thor+ pretty boy (be still my heart). This is totally my kind of BL even if it actually isn't GMMTV's style of BL, so I'm intrigued.

(That's Inn from The Miracle of Teddy Bear and Great from Manner of Death. Yes. That Great)

My Love Mix-Up (Thai Remake)

stars Gem4 - Trailer

Hum, well I do love this pair and I did like the original and maybe this time these characters will actually kiss? I'm actually fine with this pick-up. I kind of enjoy seeing different countries remake the same IP. Especially if it's IP I'm unfazed by.

The Trainee

stars OffGun - Trailer

Is this BL? It's looks like a remake of The New Employee. I'm not upset by this idea.

My Golden Blood

Trailer

Okay, I do find Joss very watchable but this looks very bad and also very like Kissable Lips. But at least Thailand is finally giving us the trashy gay vampires we richly deserve?

Ossan‘s Love (Thai Remake)

stars EarthMix? - Not Trailer

I actually do not have the words to describe how much I HATE THIS IDEA.

There it is, I'm not upset at this line up (except Ossan's Love). I'm not impressed either.

I do find it curious all the ones that are missing tho.

No Tay. Oops I missed the weird Haunted House ON SALE TayNew bromance? whatever that is.

No Perth.

No FirstKhao!!! Not at all. Not even separated.

No JoongDunk (they show up separated).

No ForceBook (I saw Book in one thing, no Force tho).

No JimmySea (again they showed up separated).

2024 gonna be weird ya'all, I'm calling it now.

BL is entering the "experimental" part of the genre evolution arc.

There's supposed to be a Part 2 line up, but honestly how many of these will actually happen at this rate? Anygay, I'll update this when they do whatever it is they're doing.

Note: Most of the Only Friends cast was sparse in these trailers. I think they were busy filming at the time these trailers were being cut, and that's why we see so little of them.

(source)

[rrrauschen]

John Smith, {1976} The Girl Chewing Gum

[toomuchracket]

i'll do anything that you wanna

(hi! sweet @brownduck and a lovely anon sent in prompts to inspire this loooooong pre-relationship flatmate!matty moment. references to 10 Things I Hate About You (if you haven't seen it, go! watch it!). enjoy!)

flatmate!matty watching girlie wistfully sigh at some cute romantic thing in a show/film she's watching and now he's determined to do that for her. This could either be right before or right after they get together

Being super normal abt the idea of movie nights with flatmate matty, maybe this instance like riiight before you two get together 💔 cuddling up together bc that’s like, a totally normal thing that friends do, him nodding off onto your shoulder or vice versa……….

matty knocks softly on your-half open bedroom door, nudging it fully open with his foot when he hears your soft "come in!". he tries to ignore the little pang of tenderness that appears in his heart when you smile at him standing in your doorway; instead, he focuses on addressing the laptop open on your knee, its artificial light illuminating your pretty face. "sorry, darlin', didn't realise you were still working. i'll leave you be."

he makes to exit, but is stopped by your sudden protests. "no, no, i'm finished for today," you say, closing the lid and lifting the computer from your shorts-clad lap. you stretch languidly, and matty's brain shuts down for a second as your cropped t-shirt rides up and exposes the bare underside of your boob. "what's up?"

once he's regained control of his brain, matty shrugs. he swears he sees your eyes flick down to quickly gaze at his bare chest, brought to prominence by the movement, but he's probably just projecting. "just wondered if you wanted to hang out, s'all. haven't really seen you much this week. missed you."

your face lights up as you beam at him. you pat the space beside you on your bed, signalling for matty to sit next to you. at first, he's quite grateful for the seat, because his knees went weak at the radiance of your smile, but then it hits him when he plonks down next to you; he's half naked in your bed, breathing in the scent of your perfume and shampoo, next to an almost as half-naked you, lying on your side and smiling at him through your eyelashes.

fuck. he's so fucked.

you shift up to a sitting position and - almost tentatively - reach across to boop matty on the nose. he wrinkles it in response, trying his best to deflect how adorable he found it, which makes you giggle and reposition his glasses for him. "you know, healy," you begin, teasingly. "for a supercool edgy rockstar, you're very cute sometimes, wanting to hang out with little old me late on a friday night."

matty can feel his cheeks go crimson, and bites his lip to stop from - what? smiling? groaning at how cute you are? kissing you there and then? he's not sure. "oi, less of the teasing. i'm trying to be nice."

"sorry. you're very sweet," you say, snuggling into his side so naturally that matty thinks he might pass out. "and i missed you too. was gonna put a film on, if you want to watch it with me."

matty experimentally leans his head to rest on your own; when you don't protest, he speaks. "that sounds nice. what film? don't say fucking twilight, i can't sit through that shite again."

"shut up, it's a masterpiece," you say indignantly, peeling yourself away from matty to rifle through the pile of dvds in the corner of your room. as much as your closeness fucks matty up, another pang in his heart appears as soon as you move from him; loss, longing, loneliness. jesus christ, he needs to get a grip. "oh! here, surely you like this one."

matty crawls forward to read the title, not noticing the way your thighs clench together at his lithe movement. "10 things i hate about you? i don't think i've ever seen it."

"WHAT?!" you press the dvd to your chest in what matty thinks might actually be genuine shock. "how have you never seen it? you've had girlfriends."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

you sigh, climbing back onto the bed and sitting on your knees in front of matty, who moves to sit on his hands so he physically cannot rest them on your almost-bare thighs as he so badly wants to. "it's a rite of passage for any girl to watch this with her boyfriend in the first few weeks of dating."

"wh-"

"don't ask me why, it just is," you begin, sighing. "but seeing as you've gotten to your big age without being shown it by the multitudes of girls who've tried and failed to cuff you..."

matty raises his eyebrows at that, but he can't exactly deny it.

"... i guess i'll have to do it." you roll your eyes dramatically, but smile that radiant smile again afterwards. "you cool with that, healy? pretending i'm your girlfriend for the 90 minutes it takes to watch this film?"

matty thinks about what he could say here. why pretend? let's make it official. i probably imagine you're my girlfriend for at least triple the amount of time it would take to watch the film every day of my life, anyway. but he doesn't. he won't. matty's so in love with you that he'd marry you tomorrow, but the thought of telling you that and you not feeling the same (which is bloody likely) terrifies him. it hurts like fuck repressing his feelings for you all the time, especially when there's reminders of you all over the flat you share - your trainers lying haphazardly by the door, your books on every flat surface available, your shampoo next to his in the shower caddy, your perfume wafting through every room and getting him higher than any drug he's ever been on - but he'd rather keep both quiet and you in his life than fuck up the dynamic and lose you forever.

so matty plays it cool. nonchalant. he shrugs, keeps his tone light, neutral facial expression. "sounds alright to me."

your smile dims a little. fuck, was he too cool with it? did he lapse into disdain? maybe - your tone is cooler when you reply with an "okay". thankfully, though, it brightens. "but that's not an excuse for you to do the old putting-the-arm-around-me-to-squeeze-my-tit move," you say, with a look so mischievous it borders on flirty.

the panging in matty's heart is replaced by fluttering - god, what he wouldn't give to have you look at him like that all the time. desperate to keep it going, he retorts with an equally mischievous phrase, pointedly ignoring the slight agony of how easily flirting with you comes to him. "fuck's sake, what's even the point of me agreeing to this then?"

your cheeks tint pink. fuck. scratch what he said about the flirty look - that's what matty wants to make you look like all the time, flustered by his affection. before he can make a cheesy joke about him really taking the boyfriend role seriously in making you blush, you respond with a statement that genuinely leaves him dumbstruck. "fine, we'll compromise: you can sit between my legs and use my tits as a headrest, okay?"

there's not even a hint of humour or sarcasm or irony in your voice. matty blinks a few times before he regains the power of speech. "you being serious?"

an earnest nod. "what kind of girlfriend would i be if i didn't let you snuggle up to me like that?"

jesus h. fucking christ alive. this might genuinely kill matty off, but why wouldn't he take such a golden opportunity? if he dies, he dies with his head on your tits - arguably a perfect way to go. "fair point, babe. alright. get the film on, then."

you hop up from the bed and run to your tv (matty tries not to focus on the way your bum jiggles in those illegally-tiny shorts you're wearing, and fails miserably). as you faff around with the dvd player, you call back to him. "there's wine under your side of the bed if you want any."

smiling to himself at the way you said "your side of the bed" so casually, matty reaches down and grabs a slightly dusty bottle of red. "fuck me, this is good shit! no wonder you've been stashing it in here, babe. are you sure you want to drink it now?"

"might as well, if we're on a date," you say with a wink, walking back to the bed and settling onto it. after wiggling around to find the best sitting angle against the headboard, you gesture to the space between your open legs. "get in, then."

"dirty," matty quips, but does as he's told, climbing between your legs and leaning back against you. a flush of contentment passes through him as he does; the two of you seem to fit together seamlessly, laser cut puzzle pieces made with the sole purpose of connecting together. "ooh, they really are comfy!"

that earns him a flick to the stomach, but you don't berate him (unbeknownst to him, because you like the feeling of him resting his head there). "ready to start watching?"

"sure, babe."

you tap the remote to start the film, matty opens the wine, and fake date night begins. you both manage to watch the film in comfortable silence - albeit interspersed with the odd chuckle, and a melancholy "oh, heath" from matty when patrick first appears onscreen - until kat is shown intently reading the bell jar, at which point matty cackles. "oh my god, she's you!"

"can't even argue with you," you giggle, taking the wine from him and taking a swig. "but shush, babe, keep watching."

how can matty be expected focus on the film, though, when you're there right next to him, all sparkling eyes and smiling lips and cheeks flushed from the booze? he makes an effort to watch it, though, because it clearly makes you happy - that, and he's actually quite enjoying it. but his eyes continue to flick to you, too, heart fluttering slightly faster every time he does.

more of the film passes, the two of you sharing wine and chatting quietly and laughing throughout. suddenly, though, you gasp and put your arms around matty, who puts his hand on your thigh comfortingly as an immediate response. he screams internally when he realises he's probably crossed the acceptable intimacy line by several hundred miles in doing that, but keeps his hand there when you don't respond, too hooked on the onscreen action to bother. "okay, we have to actually shut up now - this is the best scene in the film."

matty squints at the frankie valli song playing in the background, then at heath ledger holding a mic. "surely he isn't-"

"oh, he is." you readjust matty's head on your chest to lean forward as best you can, eyes unblinkingly focused on the screen. matty turns his gaze sideways onto your face, which settles into a dreamy expression as you wistfully sigh at patrick serenading kat. the previously-unseen longing in your eyes is crystal clear, even in the dim lamplight of your bedroom.

oh. oh.

matty fights to suppress the grin spreading itself on his face as the realisation hits him.

you find being sung to romantic.

this is good. great, even. some would say perfect, ideal, serendipitous. the very thing matty does for a living is the thing - well, at least something - that you want to be wooed by. what a fucking wonderful turn of events.

the rest of the film passes by in a blur. matty watches it, oohing and ahhing a beat after you do, but doesn't really take anything in. his brain is too preoccupied with going through the (extensive) list of love songs he knows and could sing for you - ones he's written (about you), ones he loves (because they remind him of you), ones he knows you love. so preoccupied is matty, in fact, that he doesn't realise he's now resorted to tracing patterns into your thigh with his index finger, nor that you're actively enjoying him doing so. it's only when the credits begin to roll that matty snaps out of his daydreams about singing to you, and even then it's largely due to you (reluctantly) manoeuvering his body off of your own so you can get up to turn the tv off.

once the dvd is back in its case, you turn to matty, hands on hips, adorably blinking the tiredness from your eyes. he notices, with a flush of something like satisfaction, that your t-shirt is all crinkled over your chest where his head has been. "so," you start. "how'd you find it?"

"good, yeah. interesting," matty replies, watching you as you climb back onto your bed and burrow under the duvet. he isn't lying. "that scene where heath was singing to her... that was definitely my favourite." again, not a lie.

"get under the covers, you're freezing- yeah, that's my favourite scene, too," you say, lifting the duvet up so matty can awkwardly slide under it with you. his heart flutters again as you yawn cutely, a fluttering which increases to a rave-level bass thumping when you wriggle close to him and lay your head on his chest, draping an arm across his stomach. the agreed 90 minutes of pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend is definitely over, but there's no way matty's going to protest you cuddling him for longer, not when it feels so right. "s'romantic."

"d'you think you'd like it if someone sang to you, darlin?" matty asks - it's a bit of a loaded question, but your sleepiness means you'll give an honest answer that you probably won't remember giving at all.

"mhmm", you say, clutching matty tightly as you drift off to sleep. "maybe you could..."

you're fast asleep before you can finish the sentence. matty just looks at you tenderly, his love for you practically radiating off him, and gently sweeps a stray strand of hair from your cheek. emboldened by the wine and affection, he kisses your forehead - a feather-light brush of lips against skin - before settling down to sleep himself.

sharing a bed for a night crosses the acceptable intimacy line so far it's practically on another continent, but matty couldn't care less right now. "yeah, angel, i could. i can," he whispers into your hair. "and i will, soon. i promise."

[fibula-rasa]

Cosplay the Classics: Nazimova in Salomé (1922)—Part 2

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

As the studio system emerged in the American film industry at the start of the 1920s, many of the biggest stars in Hollywood chose independence. Alla Nazimova, an import from the stage, was one of them. In 1922, she made a series of professional and creative decisions that would completely change the trajectory of her career.

In part one of CtC: Nazimova in Salomé, I described how Nazimova’s independent productions were shaped in response to trends and ideas surrounding young/independent womanhood in America after World War I and the influenza pandemic. Here in part two, I’ll fit these productions, A Doll’s House and Salomé, into the broader context of the big-money business of film becoming legitimate in America.

While the full essay and photo set are available below the jump, you may find it easier to read (formatting-wise) on the wordpress site. Either way, I hope you enjoy the read! Oh and Happy Bi Visibility Day to all those who celebrate!

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

Artists United? Allied Artists and the Release of Salomé

When Nazimova made her screen debut in War Brides (1916), the American film industry was undergoing a series of formative changes. Southern California became the center of professional filmmaking in the US—fleeing New Jersey (where War Brides was filmed) largely because of Thomas Edison’s attempts to monopolize the business. Preferences of audiences and exhibitors shifted away from one and two-reel films and towards feature-length films. The Star System emerged in full force. Nazimova soon relocated to Hollywood, signed a contract with Metro, and reaped the benefits of this boom period for American film artists.

The focus on feature-film production and the marketing of films based on the reputations of specific filmmakers or stars required a greater initial outlay of resources—time, money, and labor. But, it also paid dividends—the industry quickly grew into a big-money business. The underlying implication of that is that a larger share of the profits were shifted from the people doing the creating (artists and technicians) and towards other figures (capitalists). In practice, this also meant film companies would become eligible for listing on the stock exchange and could secure funding from banks and financial institutions, both of which were rare or impossible before the mid-1920s. The major players on the business end of production, distribution, and exhibition, therefore, wanted to consolidate their power and reduce the power and influence of the filmmakers.

To illustrate how momentous this handful of years was in the history of the US film industry, allow me to highlight a few key events. Will Hayes’ office was set up in 1922 to make official Hollywood’s commitment to self-censorship. Eastman Kodak introduced 16 mm film in 1923, a move which, while making filmmaking more accessible and affordable, also widened and formalized the division between the professional industry and amateur filmmaking. Dudley Murphy’s “visual symphony” Danse Macabre[1] was released in 1922—considered America’s first avant-garde film. Nazimova’s Salomé was considered America’s first art film from its initial release in 1923. That these labels were deemed relevant in this period illustrates the line being drawn between those films and film as a conventional, commercial product. The concept of art cinemas in the US was first proposed in 1922 spurring on the Little Cinema movement later in the decade.

from Danse Macabre

from Salomé

As any industry matures, both the roles within it and its output become more starkly delineated. That is to say that, as the US industry began differentiating between art/avant-garde/experimental film and commercial film, the jobs within professional filmmaking also became more firmly defined. Filmmaking has always been a collaborative art, but in the period prior to the 1920s, it was common for people in film to do a little of everything. As a result, what sparse credits made it onto the final film didn’t necessarily reflect all of the work that was done. To illustrate this using Nazimova,[2] at Metro, she had her own production unit under the Metro umbrella. While her films were “Nazimova Productions,” she didn’t have full creative control of her films. However, Nazimova did choose her own projects, develop said projects, and contribute to their writing, directing, and editing. When those films were released, aside from the “Nazimova Productions” banner, her only credit would usually be for her acting. Despite that impressive level of creative power, the studio still had the ultimate say on whether a film got made, and how it would be released. As studios grew and tightened control of their productions, this looser filmmaking style became much less common.

The structure of the industry at this time was roughly tripartite—production, distribution, and exhibition. Generally speaking, the way studio-made films traveled from studio to theatre—before full vertical integration—was that the production company would make available a slate of films of different scales. (Bigger productions with bigger names attached would have a special designation and come with higher rental fees.) Famous Players-Lasky was the biggest production house at the time, though other studios, like Metro, were quickly catching up. Distribution companies would then place this slate of films on regional exchanges, centered in the biggest cities in a given region. Exhibitors (this could be owners of chains like Loew’s in the Midwest and Northeast, the Saengers around the gulf coast, or individual theatre owners) could then rent films through their local exchanges. (This was an ever-shifting industry, so this process was not true for every single film. This is only meant as a quick overview of the system.) As the 1920s wore on, exhibitors began entering the production arena and producers further merged with distribution companies and exhibition chains. Merger-mania was the rule of the day.

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

As merger upon merger took place and a handful of businessmen tried to monopolize the industry, American filmmakers responded by championing the artistic legitimacy of filmmaking in the US. Leading this charge were the very filmmakers on whose backs the big business of film had been built. As noted in Tino T. Balio’s expansive history of United Artists, The Company Built by the Stars:

…Richard A. Rowland, president of Metro Pictures, proclaimed that ‘motion pictures must cease to be a game and become a business.’ What he wanted was to supplant the star system, which forced companies to compete for big names and pay out-of-this-world salaries for their services. Metro, he said, would thenceforth decline from ‘competitive bidding for billion-dollar stars’ and devote its energies to making big pictures based on ‘play value and excellence of production.’”

It’s notable for us that these ideas were espoused by Rowland, head of the studio where Nazimova was currently one of those “billion-dollar stars.” (“Billion-dollar” is obviously a massive overstatement.) It was a precarious time for any filmmaker who cared about the quality and artistry of their work. It was this environment that birthed United Artists, a new production company built around the prestige and reputation of its filmmakers, Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, and D.W. Griffith. As the statement announcing the formation of UA detailed:

“We also think that this step is positively and absolutely necessary to protect the great motion picture public from threatening combinations and trusts that would force upon them mediocre productions and machine-made entertainment.”

It’s an accurate assessment of industry trends at the time. If the desired product is a high-quality feature-length film, production is necessarily more expensive. As the UA statement intimates, monopolizing the entire industry and sacrificing quality for quantity to fill the exchanges and theatrical bills was the studio heads’ solution to rising costs. Not a great signal for filmmaking as art in America.

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

So, Nazimova was in good company when she chose to go independent, believing in film as art and that American moviegoers deserved better than derivative, studio-conceived films. Some of the other artists who went independent included George Fitzmaurice (one of the most revered directors of the silent era, though most of his films are now sadly lost), Charles Ray, Max Linder, Norma Talmadge (in alliance with Sam Goldwyn), and Ferdinand Pinney Earle (whose massive mostly-lost artistic experiment Omar Khayyam, I profiled in LBnF). If these filmmakers shared the motivation of UA to create higher-calibre productions, where would the money come from? For Nazimova, the answer was her own bank account.

In 1922, Nazimova’s final film for Metro, Camille (1921), was still circulating widely due to the rising popularity of her co-star, Rudolph Valentino, after the release of Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921) and The Sheik (1921). While Nazimova had the funds to complete A Doll’s House and Salomé, there was no sure bet for the films’ releases. Nazimova’s initial concept for her independent productions was the “repertoire” film. This scheme would have seen A Doll’s House released as a shorter film with Salomé as a feature and the two could be rented as a package by exhibitors.  It was a creative response to growing tensions between producers and exhibitors over a practice called block booking. Block booking was a strategy studios employed to leverage the Star System to its fullest. They would take the most in-demand films associated with the biggest drawing stars and only make them available in a package deal with productions that were perceived as less marketable. Nazimova was aware that her films at Metro had been rented this way (as the special feature). It’s not completely clear from my research if the decision to release Salomé and A Doll’s House as two features was creative, practical, or a combination of the two. The “repertoire” concept may not have gone according to plan, but it was an early indication that Nazimova was well-informed of the nuances of distribution and exhibition.

Nazimova’s need for proper distribution was met by United Artists’ distribution subsidiary, Allied Artists. United Artists’ first few years were a struggle. Fairbanks, Pickford, and Griffith[3] needed significant time and money to finish the high-quality productions that they promised and Allied was their solution. This distribution arm would release the work of other independent talent using the same exchanges as UA, but under a different banner. Though Allied used UA’s exchanges for distribution, the subsidiary had its own staff. Allied having different branding would also protect the prestige of the UA name. (An unkind, but not entirely inaccurate summary: the money your work brings in is good enough for us, but your work is not.) Allied would have a full release slate to generate the revenue that UA needed to remain in operation.

Nazimova was one of the filmmakers who signed a distribution deal with Allied and had reason to regret it—though she and Charles Bryant didn’t openly rag on UA/Allied.[4] Notably, Mack Sennett had arranged the release of Suzanna (1923) through Allied and was vocal about the company bungling its release. Differences over distribution and exhibition would also lead to Griffith’s exit from the company and a major rift between Chaplin and Pickford-Fairbanks. After 1923, Allied reduced its operation, at least in part because of the bad reputation they were garnering with other filmmakers. Despite numerous independents losing money on productions released through Allied, by 1923, Allied had netted UA 51 million dollars in revenue!

Trade ad for Salomé from Motion Picture News, 10 March 1923

The questionable deals that these independent filmmakers received with Allied are often mentioned in discourse about the period, but very, very rarely does anyone offer details of what Allied’s inadequate distribution looked like. Using the information available to me via Lantern, I collected and analyzed data regarding the release and exhibition of Nazimova’s final two Metro films and both of her Allied films.[5] Looking at the trade publications Exhibitor’s Trade Review, Moving Picture World, Motion Picture News, and Exhibitors Herald, I categorized every item I found about the release or exhibition of Billions (1920),[6] Camille, A Doll’s House, and Salomé. The “release” items are primarily advertisements, reviews, and news items about release dates or pre-release screenings. The number of these items for all four films were comparable. 

The items in the “exhibition” category, however, reveal a marked difference between the Metro and Allied releases. This category includes items like first-run theatre listings, exhibitor feedback, and advertising advice for theatre owners. Only counting exhibition items from the first two years (24 months) from the initial release of each film, Billions and Camille had twice as many items as A Doll’s House and Salomé!

While this isn’t necessarily hard data on how many theatres ran each film, it is a rough indicator of how well the films circulated. This data suggests that neither A Doll’s House or Salomé had distribution comparable to the Metro films. In order to compensate for the Rudy factor—Valentino’s major rise to stardom in 1921—which could have affected Camille’s numbers in a big way, I included Billions as well. Billions was sold as a special (a bigger production with premium rental fees) on Nazimova’s name alone. It was not especially well received. Exhibitors/theatre owners had mixed feelings on the film because Nazimova’s previous film, Madame Peacock (1920), had underperformed. Many exhibitors viewed Billions as an improvement, though it still did not meet their perception of Nazimova’s standard of quality. Despite that, Billions had 76 exhibition-related items across its first 24 months of availability to Camille’s 80.

To get a little deeper into this data, I wanted to see how the feedback from exhibitors and theatre owners compared. I broke down the exhibitor feedback for each film as positive, middling, or negative based on how the exhibitors assessed audience response and/or box office receipts. (I discounted feedback that only reflected theatre owners’ own personal assessment of the films without mention of their patrons or receipts.) Positive feedback could be good reception and/or good receipts, middling suggests only average business and no noteworthy reception, and negative indicates poor response and/or poor ticket sales. Since there are so many more items about Camille and Billions than A Doll’s House and Salomé, I compared ratios as an indicator of exhibitor satisfaction. The results were truly surprising.

Theatre owners who rented Salomé may have been in significantly smaller numbers than those who ran Camille, but their satisfaction with ticket sales and audience feedback was roughly equivalent. (Though slightly more positive for Salomé!) The numbers for Billions line up with the qualitative assessment I summarized above, displaying a roughly equal 3-way split. A Doll’s House was the most divisive with the highest proportion of negative feedback of the four films, yet with a higher proportion of positive feedback than Billions.

Taking all of this into account, it’s clear that Salomé did not flop because it was too artsy or esoteric for the American moviegoing public. Such assumptions are obviously not very thoughtful or informed by reliable data.[7] A more historically sound reading is that, as professional filmmaking matured into a “legitimate” industry in the US, the various arms of the business were rigidly formed to fit conventional output. The conservatism that this engendered made the American industry ill-equipped at marketing anything too unconventional or experimental. While Hollywood insiders were lamenting European filmmakers artistically outdoing Americans—especially following the US release of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)—very few people with the power to shape the industry did anything to support experimentation. Given this environment, Salomé could only have been produced independently, but the quickly ossifying distribution and promotional systems didn’t have the range to give it a proper release. Two films contemporary to Salomé, Beggar on Horseback (1925) and The Old Swimmin’ Hole (1921) offer further evidence of the industry’s limitations.

The Old Swimmin’ Hole is a feature-length production by Charles Ray, experimental in that it uses no intertitles. The story is simple and familiar with Ray playing the Huck-Finn-type character he was well known for. Ray’s experiment was not an expensive one and the film was successful. However, decision makers at First National, the film’s distributors, felt that The Old Swimmin’ Hole was simply too complex for small-town Americans to comprehend and it wasn’t released outside of cities. To put it plainly, the distributor’s unfounded concept of ignorant yokels meant that a film about country living was largely inaccessible to anyone actually living in the country. Though the film was well received and turned a profit, this distribution decision likely limited its audience as well as possible revenue from small-town exhibition.

Stills from The Old Swimmin’ Hole from Motion Picture Magazine, April 1921

Beggar on Horseback was produced by one of the biggest studios in Hollywood, Famous Players-Lasky, and distributed by Paramount. Starring comedian Edward Everett Horton, Beggar was an expressionist comedy based on a popular play. The film had a popular star, popular source material, and was made and released by a major company, but Beggar was apparently too unconventional for that major company to adequately market it. (Unfortunately, only a few minutes of the film survive, so we can’t fully reassess it unless more is found/identified!)

Stills from Beggar on Horseback from Picture-Play Magazine, August 1925

With all these complicating factors at play, how might have Salomé found its audience in 1922-3? Nazimova and Charles Bryant had innovative ideas for the film’s release that might have done the trick, if they had been able to act on them. Nazimova and Sam Zimbalist had finished cutting Salomé in late-spring 1922. Having spent practically all of her money to finish the film, and following A Doll’s House’s disappointing results, Nazimova was eager for Salomé to hit theatres. Though the film was in the can and private preview screenings had been held by Bryant by summer ‘22, Salomé wouldn’t be released until February of 1923. In studio filmmaking, holding a film in extended abeyance wasn’t ideal but it was not disastrous. Studios had significantly more resources and revenue streams than independent producers. If, for example, the release of Billions had been delayed for seven months, Nazimova still had two films on the Metro exchanges (and therefore in theatres) and Camille would have entered production in the meantime. But for Nazimova as an independent producer, this situation was wholly untenable. (In fact, Pickford, Fairbanks, and Griffith were in a similar untenable situation when they founded Allied.)

Initially, Bryant proposed roadshowing Salomé. Roadshowing is a release strategy for notable film productions where a film is toured around major cities, often with in-person engagements by stars, writers, and/or directors. Nazimova expanded the idea of touring with Salomé not simply as a roadshow, but paired with a short play in which she would star. Double the Alla, double the fun. As far as I can tell, there isn’t publicly available information about why Salomé wasn’t roadshowed. However, we do know that Griffith, as the only non-performer in UA, wanted to utilize different approaches for the release of his films—like roadshowing—and it became one of the major points of disagreement with his fellow UA decision makers. That could be taken as an indication that something similar might have occurred with Nazimova and Allied.

As time dragged on without a release date for Salomé and Nazimova returned to theatrical work—openly admitting to audiences that she was broke—Bryant took matters into his own hands. At the end of December 1922, Bryant negotiated with the owner of the Criterion Theatre in New York City for Salomé to run on New Year’s as a special presentation. In two days, Salomé grossed $2,630, setting records for the theatre. Adjusted for inflation, that’s $48,988.96. It was successful enough that the owner of the Criterion opted to hold the film over. This bold move must have lit a fire under Allied’s tuckuses, as Salomé finally had its first-run release a little over a month later.

In the 1920s, the first-run booking of a film was a crucial part of its further success. Concurrent nationwide release of films wasn’t the norm yet, and if a film was a big production, getting booked at high-capacity motion picture houses in major cities was a necessity. These big city releases would, in theory, generate interest in the film with exhibitors across the country and internationally. Basically, if you spent a lot on a movie but couldn’t land a first-run release, you weren’t likely to turn a profit or even break even. Salomé had a handful of first-run bookings and local reviewers from those cities believed the film would succeed. A reviewer from the Boston Transcript in February 1923 wrote:

“…this newest Salome is something far better than a photographed play. Considered both as picture acting, and as an interesting experiment in design, “Salome” is a notable production. It will have a far and wide reaching influence on future films in this country.”

But, as I mentioned, only a handful of first-run theatres played Salomé, and, taken collectively, the notices I analyzed from contemporary trades imply that it didn’t gain traction once it was made available beyond its initial run.

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

During this regrettably short theatrical run, exhibitors and reviewers from trade publications advised that Salomé was a unique film that called for unique promotion. The overall assumption was that theatre owners knew their patrons and recognised whether out-of-the-ordinary movies were popular with them. Rather than purely judging a film’s quality, exhibitors and trade reviewers had concerns specific to exhibition when providing feedback. These concerns cannot be overlooked if you want to understand their assessments. For example, exhibitor feedback was very often informed by how high the rental fees were for a film, even if exhibitors don’t directly mention said fees. That is to say, a mediocre film might be rated highly if the rental fees were modest (and if block booking wasn’t an issue). Reviewers in the early 1920s, both for popular magazines and trade publications, were already accustomed to the formulaic nature of most studio output. Their reviews commonly expressed fatigue with studio films’ lack of originality. And, perhaps surprisingly, this sentiment was shared among theatre owners as well—particularly when a run-of-the-mill film was sold to them as anything other than a “programmer” (a precursor to B-movies).

What I have learned, not just by analyzing feedback for Salomé, but also for all of the films in my LBnF series, is that when a 1920s reviewer calls out bizarreness in a film, it’s not always a negative quality, even when the review isn’t positive. In the case of reviews written for exhibitors/theatre owners, focussing on what makes a movie different is purely pragmatic. It guides how exhibitors might market films to patrons and helps exhibitors judge if a film would be suitable for their audiences. And, from that same research, I’ve found significant indications there were numerous markets throughout the US that were hungry for novelty—contrary to what studio apparatchiks wanted to admit. So, pointing out Salomé’s bizarreness was a recommendation for those markets to consider renting it as much as it was a warning against renting for theatre owners who only had success with more conventional films.

Cover of the Campaign Book for Salomé reproduced in Exhibitors Herald, 9 February 1924

In the case of Salomé, reviews and feedback upon its release focused on two major points:

 The film isn’t “adult” in nature. Well-known productions of Strauss’ opera and the 1918 Theda Bara film of the same name led to a presumption of salaciousness. (I talked a bit about that in Part One!)

The film deserves/requires a build up as an artistic event film.

Nazimova’s company helped exhibitors with the latter point in a few ways. The company provided Aubrey Beardsley inspired art posters conceived by Natacha Rambova and executed by Eugene Gise. They printed a book to guide promotion of an artistic spectacle. (So far, I haven’t been able to find a physical or digital copy, so I can’t assess how good the advice was!) Salomé was also distributed with an official musical score, apparently written for a full orchestra.

Art Posters designed by Rambova and painted by Gise as reproduced in Exhibitor’s Trade Review, 10 February 1923

The exhibitors who ran Salomé—and put at least some of this advice into practice—were satisfied with the business it did. By these accounts, the American moviegoing public was attracted by the novelty of Salomé, but what chance were they given to see it?

While this evidence of Allied’s poor distribution work may be circumstantial, it certainly complicates the narratives that Salomé was an unqualified flop or that average Americans weren’t (or aren’t) receptive to artistic experimentation. Given that Nazimova was not the only independent filmmaker who suffered from Allied’s inept distribution, it does seem like the underwhelming business Salomé did was due more to a poor choice of business partners than to any quality of the film or of American moviegoers. That said, with the increasing monopolization of the industry, Nazimova did not have a wealth of options.

Though Salomé was made and released at an tumultuous period for the US film industry, it did eventually find its audience through circulation in art cinemas. As the gap between experimental/avant-garde film widened in the US and the professional industry became less and less tolerant of departures from convention, Americans concerned with film as an art form rallied around amateur filmmaking clubs and art cinemas began popping up in cities by the middle of the decade. Salomé played in these theatres even after the advent of sound—occasionally even today. This is likely the key reason that Salomé survives and we’ve been able to continue to enjoy and reevaluate it one hundred years later.

Salomé is a significant film made at a significant moment in American film history. Nazimova took a major risk in going independent and personally funding two artistic projects. These films were founded on the beliefs that American moviegoers wanted art made by human beings with unique imaginations, feelings, sensibilities and that there was an audience for more than derivative, “machine-made” film. In my opinion, through close analysis of the circumstances of Salomé‘s release, we can see that Nazimova was likely correct, but didn’t get a genuine chance to prove it in her lifetime. Additionally, it’s important to note that Nazimova’s risks did not “ruin” her as is occasionally said. The state of her finances were more greatly affected in the 1920s by her fake husband’s habit of spending her money and by getting swindled by a pair of con artists over her estate, The Garden of Alla. Soldiering on, Nazimova continued to work in both theatre and film for the rest of her life and found more stability with the partner she would meet at the end of the 1920s, Glesca Marshall.

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Once I finished this “Cosplay the Classics” entry, I realized that it would way too much for me to include a section on another relevant topic to Salomé: Orientalism in Hollywood. But, I feel that the topic is too important to just edit that writing out. Look out for a shorter “postscript” entry soon!

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☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

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Footnotes:

[1] Danse Macabre is also thought to be a major influence on Walt Disney animating to music, as seen in “Silly Symphonies” and later Fantasia (1940) and Disney’s other musical anthology features. It was also in this period that Disney fled from his debtors in the Midwest to California with his first “Alice” movie. However, the wide-ranging effects of Disney’s business practices were not felt until much later, so that’s another story for another time!

[2] Nazimova was one of a handful of women in Hollywood at the time who held significant creative power. June Mathis and Natacha Rambova, both of whom Nazimova regularly worked with, Mary Pickford and her regular tag-team partner Frances Marion are among some of the others.

[3] Chaplin wouldn’t produce a film for UA until 1923’s A Woman of Paris, as he was fulfilling a pre-existing contract with another studio.

[4] According to Gavin Lambert’s biography of Nazimova (which I discussed as a largely unreliable source in Part One), Robert Florey supposedly advised Nazimova against signing with them, citing Max Linder and Charles Ray as artists who had been “ruined” by their deals. However, the timeline does not quite match up. Though Florey did visit the set of Salomé, Nazimova had already signed the Allied deal by then and Ray had not finished The Courtship of Miles Standish (1923) when Salomé was in production. In fact, there was almost a year and a half between the completion of Salomé and the release of Standish. Whether this was a lapse of memory by Florey or misreporting by Lambert, I can’t be sure.

[5] Originally, I wanted to include Madonna of the Streets (1924) in my comparisons but, at the moment, Lantern has gaps in their Moving Picture World archive for 1924-5. I didn’t want to draw conclusions from incomplete data.

[6] Billions was also a Rambova-Nazimova collaboration. Rambova designed a fantasy sequence for the film.

[7] A mindset that’s still common among commercial media outlets today unfortunately. I could rant and rant about “content” and “content creation” all day but that’s another story for another time.

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Bibliography/Further Reading

(This isn’t an exhaustive list, but covers what’s most relevant to the essay above!)

Lost, but Not Forgotten: A Doll’s House (1922)

“Nazimova in Repertoire” in Motion Picture News, 29 October 1921

“Alla Nazimova Plans for Her New Pictures” in Moving Picture World, 29 October 1921

“Nazimova Abandons Dual Program for Latest Film” in Exhibitors Herald, 24 December 1921

“Plays and Players”in Photoplay, February 1922

“PICTORIAL SECTION” in Exhibitors Herald, 4 February 1922

“New Nazimova Film May Be Roadshowed“ in Exhibitors Herald, 15 April 1922

“Newspaper Opinions” in The Film Daily, 3 January 1923

“Splendid Production Values But No Kick in Nazimova’s ‘Salome’” in The Film Daily, 7 January 1923

“Claims “Salome” Hit New Mark at N. Y. Criterion” in Exhibitors Herald, 27 January 1923

“Salome” in Exhibitors Trade Review, 20 January 1923

“Nazimova in SALOME” in Exhibitors Herald, 27 January 1923

“Nazimova Appeals To Exhibitors In Behalf of ‘Salome’” in Exhibitor’s Trade Review, 27 January 1923

“Novelty Features Paper and Ads for ‘Salome’” in Exhibitor’s Trade Review, 10 February 1923

“SALOME’ —Class AA” from Screen Opinions, 15 February 1923

Nazimova: A Biography by Gavin Lambert (Note: I do not recommend this without caveat even though it’s the only monograph biography of Nazimova. Lambert did a commendable amount of research but his presentation of that research is ruined by misrepresentations, factual errors, and a general tendency to make unfounded assumptions about Nazimova’s motivations and personal feelings.)

Lovers of Cinema: The First American Avant-Garde 1919-1945 ed. Jan-Christopher Horak (most notably, “The First American Avant-Garde 1919-1945” by Horak, “The Limits of Experimentation in Hollywood” by Kristin Thompson, and “Startling Angles: Amateur Film and the Early Avant-Garde” by Patricia R. Zimmermann)

United Artists: The Company Built by the Stars, Vol. 1 1919-1950 by Tino Balio

[qweenofurheart]

💓 decided i should probably make a pinned post now that the amount of art i made is getting pretty substantial?

faq under the cut:

🌷 about me:

i’m nia! i am taiwanese 🇹🇼. currently i am a film and animation major. i’ve always loved storytelling and sequential art like comics.

✍️ what do i use to draw?

- procreate + paperlike screen protector (i’d recommend it for the good quality but it’s $45. there are others that are more budget friendly, like $4-$8)

- brushes: i use the cosmic cookie set by magdalina dianova, i modified the sketching brush slightly to be a little less laborious! it’s $10 but very versatile.

🧧do you take commissions?

Yes, as of August 3rd, 2024, I do! Here is the post if you want to find out more.

🌸 how can i find your art?

everything is under the tag #my art.

🐚 what media do you draw for?

i am a big fan of batman + dc comics but i also enjoy F1, Le Mans, shakespeare and classic lit. i also like a lot of films, both mainstream and experimental! my favorite film of all time is « Beau Travail »

🦢 what is your original work about?

i have a post now that basically explains all of my original characters! here you can also check the tag #myocs

[lemonhemlock]

house of the dragon is sanitized because it doesn't want to offend anybody and receive the same (justifiable imo) criticisms that were lobbied at d&d for their treatment of women, poc, lgbtq+, etc. so, they turn a story that features morally dubious characters with themes that heavily criticize if not condemn monarchy, feudalism, and war in favor of serving a good vs. evil narrative that's straying further and further away from the original point.

You know, I'm starting to think if maybe I just don't resonate with this particular kind of storytelling anymore. I'm at an age where I've watched my fair share of shows and the devices that have been in use these past years have become cliche. Bad/mediocre shows certainly have their place in the ecosystem, but I'm not going to be impressed by such a straightforward attempt at tacking a simplified theme. What worked 10 years ago in movies and TV shows doesn't feel fresh now in 2024.

I am probably a little doomposting and I don't doubt the show can get better (I'm convinced there will be moments I enjoy), but this linear strategy of building Rhaenyra up as the "good monarch", only for them to tear her down when she enters her madness/vengeance arc is just not revolutionary at this moment. It's been done before many times, including with Daenerys. (At least that's what I presume they intend to do with Rhaenyra). But, perhaps to counteract the Daenerys criticism, Rhaenyra's fall from grace won't be so sudden, there will be more hints and more buildup to it and they'll pat themselves on the back for a job well done.

I just would personally have preferred to not have to wait until the second half of the show to encounter the criticism part. This particular technique of subversion feels a little stale at this point. You don't have to wait so long to insert commentary and it doesn't have to be overt or take up more than a few seconds of screen time. You can close up on someone turning their nose or raising their eyebrow when a character makes a fuckass reply, for example. I am just tired of seeing characters like Otto say shit like how Viserys was the salt of the earth and it going absolutely unchallenged.

This is why I love Succession so much, I suppose, because the commentary comes within the episode, with the way it's filmed and framed. It doesn't tell you what to think, but it gives narrative and visual clues that something is up and it doesn't wait until 120 episodes of whitewashing some character to reveal that they're actually quite villainous or wrong. And they really had the material to do something more experimental with this set-up.