#also i need to see these two actor men kiss in my lifetime

[destielwarmsthecocklesofmyheart]

them liking each others christmas posts has me like

[danidrabbles]

I've been in a real reading mood lately and it made me SO excited to revisit this. Miranda, we've messaged about this before, but I wanted to give it the proper reblog it deserves!!!! (This got a little long. I'd apologize, but as a writer myself I know (hope) it's fun)

Because Dieter and ex-wife!Reader are on my mind all the time. I really like reading about people meeting, but love reading about people and knowing there's history between them, it makes things so bittersweet. Especially with these two because the love is there; you make it so efficiently evident in their "Do you want the truth or a lie?" conversation, and when they admit they think about each other, when Dieter says “I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.” 🥺 It's a quick interaction, but it says so much about them.

As someone who was once a teenager with a crush on David Duchovny, Reader's meeting with Dustin is soooooo satisfying. The way he describes the production of the movie

"Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”

made me laugh out loud.

The interactions between Dieter and Dustin are so fun, too. Their snarking back and forth while discovering they might not be so different after all... You manage to build so much tension between them and Reader in their conversation with her by the door. But then you also pack in gut punches like, “You don’t know. You don’t know me.” “That’s not true.” “Yeah it is. I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.” and “You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this.” OOF. ouch! It’s all walking that line between fun, comedy and sexy so well.

The smut is so good Miranda... Even on a reread I’m sitting here like 😳

Having Dustin between Reader’s legs, having so much fun with her, while she and Dieter kiss, and the way it goes back and forth between the sensations of something new (Dustin) and something familiar (Dieter) is sooooooo fantastic, I love how you kind of juxtaposed them without ever making one feel less involved in the threesome than the other. Also so good for her (reader insert me) to have her little You used to masturbate to this man. Revelation!!!! (and her getting to say it to him later was so… soft?)

I’m obsessed with the fact that you went there with Dieter and Dustin, too. Like not that I didn’t expect that of you, it’s just that M/M/F threesomes can often be... more on the M/F/M/ side, you know what I mean? When they kissed, when Dustin made Dieter suck on his fingers (As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. Damn…) when Reader lays back and tells Dieter “I want to see what you’re like with men,” and they just. went for it. LOVED it.

There’s so much I want to comment on, but instead I’ll give you some passages that made my heart ache…

You know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you. 

That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life. 

Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.

“I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”

It’s so beautiful and so bittersweet. It’s so good 😭��

And some lines that made… other places ache…

Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity.

“He wants you so bad. Look—” You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”

“Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”

Your Dustin is lowkey a fucking menace, jesus... Which genuinely surprised me so much!!!! But also the You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. made me laugh so hard.

THE ENDING IS SO FUN??? It’s so creative and I love the promise of more between these three. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). made me giggle.

Miranda, this was so fantastic. I said it before but I love the way you work in all these emotions so seamlessly, while never losing any of the sincerity in the process, it's so admirable. Your word choices, your analogies and metaphors, the way you picked such an unconventional relationship for this and made it work... You're an amazing writer, I am in awe of you, and I love this story so much!

three's company

pairing: dieter bravo x ex-wife!reader x dustin mulray rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: smut, pinv, protected sex, oral (female receiving) *inserts good for her meme*, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, light voyeurism, talk and use of drugs and alcohol (weed & wine), the weirdest situationship you ever did see, a bit of angst, jealousy, fingering, dubious consent (but like, only a tiny bit dubious. the tiniest bit) word count: 16.k+ (don't ask me what happened there) summary: The world is slowly descending into madness all around you, so you decide to give in and go with Dieter to his latest poor decision: a franchise movie filming in England. One night while there, you both sweep another into this odd half-hearted, life-long tryst you've got. a/n: i don't know how i got here but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i could dedicate this to a lot of things but mostly i'm going to dedicate it the red shoe diaries. thanks to david and the horny '90s. also to maria (@sweetly-yours-and-mine) who has spent countless nights working through this with me. you are a gem

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Facetime isn’t the same as real people.”

“Those are bad movies, Bravo. I’m not sure I want to be around those who make them for that long.”

“I know.”

“Actors have never been my favorite company.”

“I know.”

“And I just don’t want to go.”

“I know.”

“I’ll learn to stop answering your calls one day, you know? And then you’ll do everything alone, even a global disaster.”

“I knew you’d give in. That's my girl.”

——

The hotel is a converted English Manor - the very stuff of childhood fairytales and honeymoon daydreams with its Italianate architecture and technicolor green grass. It is warm, inviting, with high ceilings and the soft, consistent hum of human activity as workers scurry around to greet the incoming guests. They filter you in through white plastic tents and stick cotton swabs up your nose before giving you the WIFI password and a room with a stunning view of their expansive, manicured grounds. You don’t have any grounds to look in America, and your studio apartment has been eerily quiet as of late. The pulse of life has stopped in Los Angeles, but here it comes back with an unvarying rhythm.

You don’t like to admit it, but Dieter was right: you are not above loneliness.

The room they give you feels anachronistic, too modern and beige, but cozy in the way all four star hotels aim to be. You’ve got a television, a pristine bathroom that hosts a bathtub and a shower, and enough floor space to move around without stubbing any toes. There’s ample furniture too: a reading chair by the large window, the queen bed, and another chair by the door, which looks like it’s meant only for bags and the stray suit jacket. They’ve given you decorative pillows and instructions not to leave for two weeks - not for any reason.

You lay out on the queen bed and Facetime Dieter. The irony of the situation is too good not to tease him for.

“I know,” he gruffs, picking up your call immediately.

You can’t help but laugh at the misery that drips from his voice. “I’ve always been better at being alone. I think it was you who didn’t want to be alone.”

He runs a hand through his unruly hair and frowns. Even if you won’t take it, you like the idea that he’s only a long walk away now. You give in and shuck off your winner’s ego. “It’s only two weeks,” you assure kindly.

“If I’m good, do you think I can earn a sleepover?” There’s mischief in his eyes, flirtation thick on his tongue. You look askance at him and the dimple in his cheek deepens. “I’m only kidding of course.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan.

“It’ll be nice after two weeks,” he promises. You know that tone, far off and introspective. It’s not good.

“Just Facetime me when you’re losing your mind.”

“You don’t want that. I’ll be on the phone with you all the time.”

You stare down at the phone, frowning. He smiles, coming back to his body. “I’ll be alright, kid. I always am.”

“Two weeks is not so long.”

“No,” he agrees quietly.

——

Two weeks is a prison sentence.

The room they put you in, while spacious, is merely a cell block now, reduced down to its most basic elements: the bathroom with the shower and the tub, which you’ve used so much it's a miracle your skin hasn’t fallen right off; the bedroom area, with the reading chair by the window; the queen bed, which you stopped making after day four and try your damndest not to fall in before 3pm. You’ve paced the floor so many times, feeling the angry itch of loneliness coupled with a newfound, perpetually lurking anxiety.

“One more day,” he reminds you over the telephone, trying to allay your fears. You hear the sound of his tub running in the background, over the static of his voice, and you wonder what he looks like right now. You picture two week’s more worth of beard growth, the slouch of his back as he sits on the edge of the tub, the pudge of his stomach, and the inciting trail of hair below his belly button. And his naked self. At home he was perpetually nude, and you imagine it’s no different now.

You find your own reflection in the mirror over the sink: sunken eyes, with bags underneath and your flesh taking on a slightly gray cast, the color of isolation.The window sun doesn’t seem to be helping much. You frown self consciously, but try to remind yourself he must be in a state himself; he stopped Facetiming you a week ago, opting for the good ol’ telephone call at least once or twice a day since.

“I’m going out of my mind,” you say as you continue to look at yourself. You lower your voice, vulnerability shared in a hushed, confessional tone. You imagine Dieter again: with that soft concentrated look that pulls his eyebrows together, the one that enhances the lines between them. They called him a curious child and now he’s got the lines to show for it. He told you that. The thought makes you smile at yourself, but you still look so tired.

“Just one day,” he supplies again. He sounds vaguely apologetic.

“I know,” you tell him simply.

“What have you been up to today?” he asks. You hear water come to a stop and a gentle splash follows it. He’s gotten in. “Anything fun?”

“I read, watched a movie. You?”

“I got high and jerked off. So, you know, nothing different than the past thirteen days that you’ve called.”

You scan your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next words. It isn’t a good idea, but nothing is. “What did you think about?” you ask.

“Lots of things.”

He tells you this as casually as if you’ve asked him his name. You are so achingly lonely and this is so embarrassing, but you can’t help it. You know he’ll let you. Hell, he’s probably been waiting weeks for this. Years.

“Do you ever think about me?”

There’s a short, considerate pause. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“A lie.” You worry your lip between your teeth.

“Oh, never.”

You laugh, relieved. “I thought you were going to say something different.”

“Hm,” he hums, “I don’t think that’s the truth. I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Mine too. She thinks inviting you was a terrible idea but she wants you to know she’s thinking of you.”

“Mine hates you.”

He grunts. “Suppose I deserve that, don't I?”

“I think this is the first time in history that you diverted phone sex with talk like that.”

“I’m getting older, wiser,” he jokes. Then, “Do you think of me?”

“Do you want a lie or the truth?”

He considers it for a moment. “The truth. Hit me with it hard, baby.”

“Oh, a lot more than I should.”

——

The rapt sound of knuckles against your door incites an excitement in you that you haven’t felt since childhood. You jump from the bed, uncaring of the state of yourself, hungry for the news that awaits on the other side.

A kindly British man tells you that the quarantine has been lifted and that there will be a party and dinner for the cast and crew in a couple of hours. Formal wear is encouraged but not required.mYou spend the next few hours undoing what’s been done by isolation: the bags under your eyes; the unkempt room, with the fetid smell of loneliness wafting over everything; the living out of your suitcase and the wrinkles on your best clothes. You find an iron in the closet and shave your entire body.

Dieter stops by your room while you’re in the middle of getting ready. He sits quietly at the edge of your bed, watching you in the mirror with that dazed look in his eyes. He wears the ugliest goddamn housecoat you’ve ever seen, but he’d smiled so wide at the door that you’ve forgiven him for it.

“You’re excited,” he observes. His fingers fiddle with the sunglasses in his hands. “I thought you hate actors.”

You try to steady your hand as you bring the eyeliner up to your eyelid. “I don’t care what they are, as long as they can hold a conversation,” you mumble.

“I can hold a conversation. Maybe we ought to stay here and celebrate with each other.”

You look at him in the mirror, trying to figure out if he’s serious or not. You can’t tell. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. There’s a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s thinking too hard about something.

“Are you high?” you ask him.

“No, but I’m thinking maybe I should be.”

“Cheer up, boy scout. You’re the one who wanted to do this goddamn movie.”

He lets out a defeated sigh and falls back into the mattress with a groan. “I’m going to kill myself.”

———

He doesn’t kill himself, but he looks like he’s still weighing the prospect of it as you take your drink from the bartender.

Dieter suffers no one lightly, and you have a feeling the personable strawberry blonde in front of him isn’t exactly his crowd. You smile over the rim of your drink, enjoying seeing him squirm for once. Everything seems to come easy to him–except this. He’s never been very good at socializing when he doesn’t want to.

“That your boyfriend?”

You turn your head and find Dustin Mulray. You feel a hint of your teenage self come back to you as you look at him, struck wordless. It’s nothing as strong as the love that had you tacking up posters with his face on it to bedroom walls, but something vaguely akin to it. You’re happy to find it manifests itself as a friendly smile instead of love confessions. Perhaps it’s helped by his appearance: In his infinity scarf and beige knitted sweater, he reminds you more of a homely professor than a Hollywood movie star. You think: Movie stars! They’re just like us! while shaking your head in answer.

“No,” you tell him, “He’s my ex-husband.”

“Ah. That’s my ex-wife with him. Marriage is tricky, isn’t it?”

He takes a seat next to you and orders a drink. The bartender sits it on a napkin for him and he turns to you, his blue-green eyes awaiting an answer. You hadn’t thought he would want to talk to you, not really. You’re used to being invisible at events.

“I guess you could say that,” you reply.

“Are you working on the movie?”

You remember what Dieter told you to say if anyone asked: “For legal purposes, yes. Art coordinator #3.”

This amuses him, drawing out a smile. “That title come with pay or would you say it's just an internship?”

“I guess you could call it an internship.” You smile back at him. “Why? You think you could pull some strings and get me a paycheck?”

“I think I’d do you one better and get you a better place of employment. Have you read the script?” This makes you let out a genuine laugh. He brightens, smiling a little wider. “What? It’s the truth! Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean—“ He looks over the crowd, lowering his head closer to yours conspiratorially. “—Not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”

“Ah, I feel you but I can’t quite reach you from here.”

“No, I bet not.”

There’s something simmering in that line. If you didn’t know better, you’d figure it was a light flirtation. Surely not.

“I liked your early stuff better,” you confess.

“Me too. But those were the glory days and now I have alimony and child support to pay. How about him?” he nods in the direction of Dieter. “You get half his ass in court?”

You shake your head. His candor, although surprising, is refreshing. “No, no big payout. We’re amicable.”

He clicks his tongue in awe. “I envy the bastard but I can’t say I didn’t deserve my lot.”

“You haven’t even finished your first drink and you’re already gonna confess your sins?” You raise a curious, teasing eyebrow. He hangs his head and laughs.

“You married an actor. Don’t we all wear our hearts on our sleeves?”

“Mm, not mine,” you shake your head. “It seems he saved his emotions for the silver screen.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to raise his own curious eyebrow.

“How cozy.” You look over your shoulder to see Dieter standing in front of your chair, his fingers reaching out to the back of your chair. He looks…jealous.

“Dustin, this is Dieter,” you introduce them. Dustin sticks his hand out and Dieter plays nice, shaking it with a passing grin.

“Nice to meet you,” Dustin mutters. Dieter nods his head. “Yeah, you too. I was actually coming over here to steal her away for a moment. If she doesn’t mind.” He looks over at you, expectant. There’s a bite to his words you don’t like at all. How fucking rich, you think bitterly, remembering all the times you had to sit by while he shamelessly flirted with half the fucking world.

“She does mind,” you respond. The sharp finality of it makes even Dustin cough awkwardly.

Dieter looks taken aback. “Okay,” he mutters, looking between the two of you. He nods again, as though he’s drawn some conclusion. “Alright.”

You watch as he walks away to the other side of the room. Looking back at Dustin, you give him a rueful grin. “Sorry. And here I was, talking about how amicable we are. Exes of the year.”

He raises his glass. “To us pitiful people and our pitiful crash and burn marriages.”

You clink your glass against his, fighting the urge to cry or kill Dieter. “To us.”

—

The dinner table arrangement is unforgiving for Dieter. He’s sat next to Dustin at the far end of the table, with yet another red headed actress to his left. Unlike the talkative one, this one is in a state of brooding and continually huffing at everything he says. You’re slightly more lucky, sat at the other end, sandwiched between Dustin's ex-wife and the director.

He watches woefully as you chat with the ex-wife, nodding your head along politely. You were always such a good listener, even with the worst people. He frowns. He had changed his outfit between the party and the dinner, opting for a classier open dress shirt. He had seen the look in your eye when you had opened the door for him earlier, and figured he could use all the help he could get now that he’s undoubtedly pissed you off. He had hoped that they would’ve sat him next to you so you could talk. He’s even wearing that cologne you like. Or used to like. He doesn’t know anymore.

“So, like what—you usually get along with her or…?” Dustin asks him, following his eyeline right to you. Dustin brings the cool champagne they’ve served to his lips, his eyes too burningly curious as he gazes at you.

Dieter tries not to be possessive. He saw it in your eyes, heard it in your tone: that sharp, angry disappointment that you’re so used to delivering him. You don’t like when he gets like that. Not that he has much. This is a relatively new side effect he’s required since the divorce. He shrugs lazily, pushing the sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

This earns him an even laugh. He looks over at the older man, frowning. “What?”

“I see magazines with your face all over it, man. C’mon, we all kiss and tell, even if we don’t want to.”

Dieter bites at the side of his cheek and considers him for a moment. “Look you and your wife-“

“Ex-wife-“

Dieter nods, uncaring. “Sure, your ex wife — you both like to talk a lot.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if I can make a pass at her or not. Make it easy for me. I don’t want to have to suffer this entire shoot because you’ve got some weird shitty thing going on between you. I don’t step on kept grounds….Well, not anymore,” he adds.

“How noble,” Dieter says wryly, “She’s not mine to answer for. Besides, it seems like you were already doing a good job at making a pass earlier.”

He fights down the petulant child inside of him, biting at his lip instead of wearing an all out pout. Through the concealed tint of his sunglasses, his eyes soften at the sight of you across the room. He can almost feel the crack in his heart as he considers the fact that you might have actually liked talking to this man.

Dieter knows one day it’ll come, the moment when you find yourself in a serious relationship with someone else. Most of the time he thinks he’ll be okay — that it will affect him like it must but it won’t ruin him entirely — but sometimes, like right now, he worries he’ll get on his knees and beg you not to do it. You don’t deserve that. He hates himself for the greed he feels, how he can’t ever just let you be happy. He doesn’t want to be like this dick, taking and taking from his ex-wife, all while he noses around and wets his dick in anything that will let him. He never wants to embarrass you like that. Not again. Never again.

Chugging the last bits of his drink, Dieter looks over at the man. Dustin looks back at him, nonplussed. It takes herculean strength to say the next words.

“She doesn’t like men who are crude or too direct, but to be frank, I think you can’t really fuck up with her. She likes you and always has.” Dieter casts a glance in your direction again, feeling mischievous. He smirks, letting himself have this one. “Well, since you were last relevant, that is.”

Dustin laughs the burn off, shaking his head. He touches Dieter’s shoulder in a show of faux friendliness. “We’re in the same shitty franchise now, bud, so welcome to the club,” he whispers, just low enough for him to hear.

Dieter raises his empty glass to Dustin with a forced grin. Feeling defeated but comforted by the fact that he’s now got something to separate him from that asshole, he raises his hand to the pretty waitress for another drink. To celebrate.

But he truthfully doubts there will be much to celebrate.

He fucking hates Hollywood.

—-

Truth be told, Dieter didn’t plan on doing this tonight. Getting high. He planned, if he was being honest with himself - and he is trying, at his most introspective more now than ever - to be doing you. Had he invited you on the vacation just to fuck you? No, but ignobility inevitably follows in the tracks of his nobility. It was written between the lines, something you both had hinted at over the past two weeks. But now you’re somewhere else. There's a lot of rooms in this hotel. Maybe you’re in your own. Maybe not. Dustin had looked like he was going to devour you at the bar earlier tonight, so probably, you’re doing him in his room.

Or do you bring men back to your own place now? He doesn’t know.

Dieter would blanch if he wasn’t so high. He sits in the middle of the decorative couch, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, and he tries to imagine a different version of your last phone conversation.

When you asked if he ever thought of you when he touched himself, he’d tell you the truth. Because you like the truth. He’d say: all the time. More than he should. Really a sickening, depressing amount because he misses you, especially lately. New York is a terrible place to be these days; death permeates everything and nothing seems as right as it used to. Even loneliness feels worse, no longer poetic or artistic but just lonely. It's less like Al Pacino on the set of the Godfather and more like Michael Corleone, sitting alone at the empty dining room table. Days stretch on and on, and he’s hungry for life that has halted so he paints terribly, insecure of even hobbies. What else is he supposed to do but play with himself and remember poignantly that he had once been married to a lovely sort of woman who would’ve made it all better, if only he hadn’t fucked it up?

Well, he doesn’t think about that last part so much. It doesn’t really make for good masturbating material.

He wasn’t sure he was going to survive the pandemic before they asked him to do this movie. And of course he asked you along when they had. It’s the only way in the world he could ask for your help: through omission of truths and beating around the bush. He wonders if you might take pity on his soul again and let him crash with you for a while, just to wait the rest of this out together after the movie wraps. If you really are fucking Dustin, it might make things tense but not impossible. He’ll learn to live with it. He’ll have to. What else is he going to do? Go back to this moment in time and stop you?

Perversely he wonders if Dustin is not the first man you’ve fucked since the divorce. You’re not his last but he wishes you were a lot. It’s been nearly two years and he’s forgotten what you feel like, what you taste like. It’s miserable. When he touches himself and thinks of you, you’re like an apparition, some Franksteinian woman built of fragmented, hazy memories. All he remembers was that the last time wasn’t nice and that you didn’t cum. He couldn’t make you, something about you being too sad or too angry. It was a shame, because he’d always imagined the two of you would’ve gone out with a bang.

This thought makes him smile, but it doesn’t last for long. There's nothing funny about your divorce, not really. He broke your heart tediously, and now you’ve got to tell people that it wasn’t just one thing but many things. He knows that. An unanswered phone call. That waitress in Vegas who he flirted with so unabashedly your mother thought he was cheating on you - along with half the internet and for a brief moment, yourself too. The apartment in New York he bought and moved into without asking you. That art house opening he missed, the one you’d asked him continually throughout the week to set time aside for. So many things—the seven sins and just a few more to top it off.

He wasn’t really surprised when you had asked him for a divorce over lunch one day. You didn’t even live together at the time - the New York apartment became more permanent than he had originally planned for - and you looked so tired, like you were drained of life, overwrought and quiet. What surprised him was the fact that you hadn’t done it sooner. The knowing that you had tried against hope was not an easy one for him to reconcile with for a long time after that. Even in that moment you had developed a sort of halting lisp as you pushed the statement out, as though your own body protested it. He remembers that better than the sex.

You had waited for him to get better and he never did, so you both took your chicken salads with a side of failed marriage that day, and now here you are. Dieter sighs, feeling the familiar pangs of remorse.

“Whatever drugs you’re on must not be very good because you look miserable.”

Dieter lifts his head off the back of the loveseat, straining his eyes to make out the shape that’s hovering in his doorway. His brain catches up with him before his eyes do, and the distinct mumbling voice of the figure comes to him. Dustin.

Shaking his head, Dieter laughs, relieved. “I was thinking.”

Dustin takes this as an invitation to cross the corridor. As he comes closer, Dieter finds he’s in more casual clothes - perhaps even sleepwear - clutching a bottle of wine in his hand. If this is a peace offering, Dieter will take the olive branch. He’s so goddamn pleased you’re not fucking this guy, he might even kiss him.

“You want a joint?” he asks him, straightening on the couch. Suddenly it’s not so hard to be magnanimous, not with the sheer euphoria of you not having betrayed him (is he allowed to call it that? Probably not, but there’s no word quite so apt). He feels he might even be smiling, but he can’t be sure. He hopes so.

“God, please,” Dustin groans. He sits the bottle of wine on the table and rubs his hands together eagerly as Dieter lights the one he’s been puffing away at.

“I figured you were the one with the goods,” Dustin says around a cloud of smoke. He looks over at the open door, nodding at it. “We should close that, huh?”

Dieter shrugs. He thought he had closed the door, truthfully. “Probably should. I think I saw a kid here,” he says. Neither of them get up.

Dustin passes the joint to Dieter. He takes another hit when he gets it because fuck it, this is a celebration. “What, she didn’t want you?” he can’t help but ask.

Dustin laughs mutedly. “I don’t know. I figured by the way you reacted at dinner that I better not try. And there's that thing with my wife.” He shrugs. “I’m always fucking that one up. I thought I should just wander around and see where the night takes me.”

Dieter rests his head back against the couch again, nodding sympathetically. “Mm, I understand. Me too.”

“What’d you do?”

“The better question would be what didn’t I do.”

“Did you cheat?”

Dieter turns his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t fuck anyone else while we were together but she said I might as well as have. And I guess she’s whose opinion really matters, isn’t it?”

Dustin mumbles an agreement. “I fucked a lot of people,” he confesses. “Even the divorce lawyer.”

“And she still talks to you?” Dieter asks.

“We’ve got a kid.”

“That’s right. She told me that, because she likes to talk.”

“Hey don’t be a dick. Yours does too, you know? That’s what women like to do—talk. And they like to be listened to.”

Dieter narrows his eyes. “Is that what you were doing at the bar? Talking?”

Dustin nods. “Yeah. Listening, too.”

“I listened.”

“But you didn’t like what you heard.”

Dustin says this more as a statement than a question. Dieter looks back to the ceiling and pinches his eyes closed, too high. “Mm,” he mumbles. “I’m just so happy she isn’t fucking you right now. I really thought she would be there for a second and it was making me sick.”

Dustin huffs out a laugh. “I take it you never shared?”

“What do you mean ‘shared’?” Dieter asks. “Like wife swapping? No. We seemed to have left the practice in the sixties.”

“Not necessarily. Threesomes?”

“Have you done that?”

Dustin shrugs, smiling unashamedly. “Before we got married, of course,” he tells Dieter. Then, “And a little after too.”

Even with the high, Dieter can’t help but feel curious about the arrangement. “With men?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t have been fair with just women. That was the rules, anyway. Why? You’ve never been with a man?”

“A few. That’s not what strikes me as odd. You just didn’t strike me as the type.”

“I wouldn’t say I was, but fair is fair. And it can be nice. Interesting.”

Dieter rolls his eyes. “Gay sex is gay sex, no matter how you cut it. If you’re about to tell me it doesn’t count, I’m gonna laugh.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just like there to be a girl there too.”

The information weighs heavily on Dieter’s drug induced state of mind. He finds himself beginning to laugh. “Wait a minute, are you trying to talk me into a threesome? Is that what this is? Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? That’s what the wine is about, isn’t it?” He points to the bottle in question, and everything suddenly seems much too funny.

Dustin begins laughing too. “No! The wine was for something. I just couldn’t figure out what”

Dieter ignores him. “Your…your wife hates me,” he manages to hiccup out, “And mine? She—“ She hates me too. This thought makes the laughing come to a slow halt. That’s right. She hates him too.

“I bet she’d do it,” Dustin supplies, soft chuckles still emitting from him. “They can surprise you like that sometimes.”

Dieter shakes his head, his smile more soft, almost sad. “Not with me. I pissed her off. I was thinking I’d try with that waitress downstairs but she’s young and I’ll for sure hate myself for that later.”

“Don’t do that. Your wife really will hate you for that,” Dustin advises. “Take it from an expert. Just call her. Apologize.”

Dieter shakes his head. “That won’t work. It’ll just make her more mad when she realizes I’m high.”

Dustin considers this. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s go to her room. Do it in person.”

“You can’t go,” Dieter tells him evenly. It’s not often he’s the voice of reason — even less so when he’s high — and this dynamic is beginning to make him feel out of sorts. He wants to shut his eyes and sleep this off, but naturally — because he is who he is — he will follow this train of thought through with Dustin.

“Why not?” Dustin smiles widely, catching his stride in the conversation. He speaks more animatedly, bringing his hands into the mix for emphasis. “She doesn’t want to fight with you in front of me! And she can see we’ve made friends. That’s progress! She’ll like that.”

Dieter considers this. He does want to show you he’s sorry — really.

“You just want to fuck her,” he says to Dustin. He’s too high to be angry, even if he really wanted to be, but he is suspicious.

When Dustin doesn’t respond to that, Dieter narrows his eyes. “You do!” he accuses, acutely horrified by the idea.

Dustin looks at him, a smile playing across his lips. “C’mon, aren’t you a little curious to see what it’d be like?”

“No. And besides, even if I was, I don’t think she would. She’s not…I don’t know, I don't know how to explain it.” Dieter pinches up his face, stuck for the right words. “She’s not a prude by any means, but I don’t think she would.”

“Would you? If she did?”

Dieter doesn’t consider the question, only beats around it. “She wouldn’t. I know her.”

He watches as Dustin rises from the couch. “Let’s just go ask her.”

Dieter jumps up, feeling sobriety sneak up on him. “No!” he says, horrified.

But Dustin has snatched up his bottle of wine and began to make his way out into the corridor before Dieter can stop him.

So crumbles the olive branch.

—-

When you see Dustin standing at your door, holding up a bottle of wine with a goofy grin, you think it's a sign from the Heavens above. No more Dieter, that’s what it tells you. He’s ruined your life for a decade now and it’s a cause you’ve got to accept is a lost one. A new man is here and you’re lonely, and you didn’t even have to go search this one out. You smile, open the door a little wider.

But then you see Dieter shuffling down the corridor, brown eyes blown wide. Dustin looks over at him with a grin and you realize with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t what you imagined it was. You don’t know what it is, to be exact, but you’re sure it’s not right.

They look up to no good, with glazed eyes and Dustin’s too wide grin. You close your door just a smidge when Dieter shoulders to the front. He smiles apologetically, and you instinctively hold out a hand to keep him steady. But he’s steady, in no risk of tumbling forward. He puts his hands over yours before you quickly take it away. He looks stung but you don’t care.

“Hey kid,” he says sheepishly. His eyes seem to be asking you something - saying something - but you’ve long lost that way of communicating. You frown, slumping against the doorway.

“Make friends?” you ask, nodding back to Dustin.

Dustin nods his head, unaware or — more likely — too high to be aware. “He’s being a good boy,” he vouches.

“I’ve been good,” Dieter echoes. He tries another grin and that easy charm of his, but none of it works. You fold your arms over your chest.

“Listen, I’m a little tired and—“

“I’m sorry. I know what I did earlier was shitty. I don’t know why I do things like that. Don’t shut me out. Please.” Dieter pouts. The sincerity of his words punches you in the gut, and makes you angrier somehow. Like it’s mocking, even though you know it’s not. He seems to sense this and he continues talking. “I know I don’t own you like that. I had no right. None at all. And I’ve been meaning to say it to you all night. And I know you’re thinking ‘this prick is high.’ I am. I’m really high, and I can’t deny it, but I’m sorry too. I was sorry even before I got high. That’s why I got high.”

Dustin giggles behind Dieter. You look over, feeling pangs of annoyance for him too. Now that he’s not your knight in shining armor he’s just some asshole in kahoots with this asshole. “That’s terrible,” he huffs out. Dieter glares at him over his shoulder before you’ve got the chance.

“I’m sorry,” Dieter tells you again, pleadingly. You shake your head.

“You’re always sorry. That was always the problem.”

“I know! God, I know.”

“Ask her if she wants some weed,” Dustin whispers.

“And I suppose you smuggled that in?” you ask, straightening yourself up. You feel motherly, glowering at him like this. You want to wring his neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed fuck you, make you feel eternal and sexy. But no. Now you’re so matronly, standing there in your PJs, frowning so hard wrinkles are mapping their permanent home in the places your face creases.

He nods guiltily. “But you knew that! I’ve talked about it all week.”

“Yeah but—“ you wave your hands in the air. “It all adds up with you. It’s..”

“The little things,” he finishes sadly. “I know.”

“Why do you know so little if you know so much?”

Dustin coughs suggestively behind Dieter and Dieter turns around swiftly. “No,” he tells him sharply.

You furrow your eyebrows. “No, what?”

Dieter shakes his head dismissively and Dustin shrugs, looking around aimlessly. He’s trying hard to contain a laugh or a grin, you can tell. You hate that Dieter is making you a bitch in front of him. You could be fucking him for God’s sake, but you’re just annoyed.

“Go to bed,” you tell them.

“Well that’s the idea,” Dustin counters, his lips drawing upwards. Dieter looks pallid.

“It wasn’t,” he tells you. “I swear. I came here to stop him from asking!”

“Asking what?” you say, exasperated.

“For a threesome,” Dustin says simply, like it’s nothing at all. “Though I can see now that’s probably not in the cards. And it wasn’t really asking for one, just a hypothetical.”

You look over to Dieter. He looks down at the floor, like a kid in trouble. “Dieter,” you scold.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to ask. I told him—I said you wouldn’t. I didn’t even want to suggest it,” he mumbles helplessly. “That’s not what this was supposed to be at all, kid. I swear. I just wanted to say sorry and…I don’t know.”

You don’t know whether to believe him or not. “But you talked about it?”

“Hm?” Dieter raises an eyebrow.

“The threesome? You were talking about having one?”

“Yeah, but not like—it wasn’t locker room talk. Not really. He just started talking about it and asked if you would and I said no—“

“How do you know I would say no?” you huff. “You don’t know. You don’t know me.”

Dieter frowns. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is,” you nod. “I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.”

“I never thought of you like that.”

“Well, still, yes,” you say, feeling angry and stung and in a desperate need to prove him wrong and spite him all in one go. It’s such an ugly feeling and it’s not right, but you can tell the words take him by surprise.

“Yes?…” he asks. “Listen, I get that you’re angry, but you don’t have to do this.”

“No I want to,” you say. “If that’s what you want, what he wants, I want it too. If that’s what you’ve come for, then you’ll get it.”

He shakes his head. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking straight. You’re…being mean. And you’re only going to piss yourself off more, I think, and then you’re going to be mad at me because I drove you to it.”

You shake your head. “No. I think I’m being quite nice. I’m standing here telling you I want you to fuck me. I want him to watch. I want him to fuck me and you to watch. Whatever perverse things you cooked up together, let’s do them. If you’re going to make me mad, then I’m asking that you have the decency to fuck me too.”

Dieter struggles to compute the information. You do too. You hate him. You love him. You are so high strung and pissed and you’d do anything to be touched. Let him prove himself, goddamnit, or let him be damned jealous. Either way, you get fucked. Everyone's a winner or only you are. You don’t give a shit.

Dustin seems altogether pleased by this, clapping a hand onto Dieter’s shoulder. “I told him you might surprise him.”

“Mm hm,” you hum. You do not break eye contact with Dieter. He nods his head, resolving to trust you—or to go along with it. It doesn’t matter, just so long as he doesn’t question it.

When he steps forward, you put your hand up, blocking him. “First the weed.”

He lets out a soft sigh and stays put for a second, looking as though he wants to say something more. He’s wise enough not to in the end.

As he rounds the corner, heading back to his room, you finally glance back up at Dustin. He smiles softly. “You don’t have to do this,” he tells you. “I really was just to get some fire under his ass. I mean, I’m not against it, but if you’re just doing it because you’re pissed—“

You cut him off with a hard look. “I want to,” you say resolutely. “And I am pissed. So be it. Men start wars for less.” You shrug. He looks amused and you feel something arise in you, up alongside the anger — arousal. Desire. Something. He smiles handsomely. The grayish scruff on his cheeks bodes well with his aged features.

You do want to fuck him. That’s freeing information. Propping the door open wider with the kick of your foot, you nod him in. “C’mon. Get in here before I change my mind.”

The dichotomy between his laughter and the intensity of the fight you just had with Dieter makes you smile despite yourself.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he responds with a wink.

He brushes past you with his body and you fight the urge to suck in a shallow breath at the sudden casual contact. As he moves into the room, he pulls you away from the door with him, gripping at your shoulders. He doesn’t let you stay back and wait for Dieter like some lost puppy.

You look at him, eyes wide, and he hands you the wine in his hand. He is so unserious that it’d be plain endearing if it hadn’t been a source of annoyance a moment before. You watch as he wets his lips and looks down at yours. There seems to be a pregnant pause, eyes searching yours for an answer to an invisible question. You think of Dieter, of all the sex you’ve not had since the divorce, and how hurt he seemed when you pulled back from his touch. You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this. You heed your mother’s warning too late and you kiss Dustin hard on the mouth. He takes some of your grief with a practiced tongue, kissing you deeply until you’re interrupted by a cough in the corner a few blurry moments later.

Dustin smiles, holding your face between his hands. “The weed,” he remarks. Dieter nods. He looks a little hurt, a little angry, a little betrayed—looks like he’s always made you feel, and you are not surprised it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You love him. You fool.

You shake Dustin off and Dieter hands you the joint with a forced grin. “It’s strong,” he warns softly as he lights the end. As you inhale, Dustin comes to stand behind you. Dieter’s eyes watch as his arms snake around you. He plants wet kisses alongside your neck and Dieter worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dieter reaches out to you, touches the wrist you’ve risen to put the joint in your mouth. His calloused fingers try to reach across burned bridges and you aid him, handing the joint back and reaching out to him too. His baggy sleep shirt is easy to take between your fingers. He takes a hit and then comes closer to you, pressing into you.

When he kisses you for the first time, you think of an ouroboros. Whole and eternal, destruction and rebirth. Your mother hates him when she once loved him. He knows your birthday and the way you like your coffee in the morning. You don’t know what he did yesterday. He doesn’t know your friend’s old cat died and that you’d been to two weddings before COVID hit. He tastes familiar and feels strange against you, unreal and vivid. You open your mouth and he slides in his tongue. The kiss isn’t like the one with Dustin; he does not explore you as much as he remembers you.

Dustin and Dieter pass the joint between them. When you feel the loss of warmth behind you, you turn curiously, detaching from Dieter’s lips. Dustin goes to abandon the joint on the table by the bed and Dieter’s hot mouth presses kisses alongside your neck. You wrap your fingers in his hair and you can't help but moan when he tongues alongside your jaw. Dustin’s eyes spark with delight at the sound.

You look down at the wine bottle still in your hand and hold it up. Dustin takes it from you, grinning. “I forgot to tell you it was my gift. I’ll open it. It’s good, aged to perfection,” he comments.

He searches your bedside for a glass and finds a crystal one beside the water vase that they gave you earlier that week. He looks down at the bottle in his hand and frowns. “Fuck, I forgot the wine opener.”

“Call the desk,” Dieter says against your skin.

You turn your head back and begin kissing him again, humming an agreement against his lips. Dustin shuffles behind you as you return completely to Dieter, your lips ghosting over his. He licks into your mouth and grasps at the back of your neck, keeping you attached to him as you begin the dance backwards to the bed.

The weed gives you a cloudy feeling, enhancing the warmth of his fingers and lips on your skin, but erasing any inhibition that would make you embarrassed to be doing it in front of another man. You like the idea of it, actually, that there’s some stranger - albeit a familiar one - standing somewhere in the room as Dieter’s fingers lift up your sleep shirt and dip beneath the hem of your underwear. Your ass presses against the edge of the bed and you feel his erection against your thigh. You moan carelessly, tugging at his hair, and he exhales into you, the line between pleasure and pain thin and delicate as he rushes to do what he’s afraid Dustin will get to first if he doesn’t.

Dustin hangs up the phone and looks at the two of you on the bed, a surge of desire filling him as he watches. You’ve got your legs open and Dieter’s got his hands down your underwear and he can see it all from this angle. You’re making delicious, breathy moans and Dieter’s arm muscles flex as he works them out of you. There’s a wet spot on your underwear and he wants nothing more than for Dieter to take them off so he can see more of you.

He watches a while longer, captivated by what makes you tick and what kind of a lover Dieter is. It's kinda like hotel porn that he’s had on repeat the past few days, but live. Before he can get out the request for Dieter to take your underwear off, or wait for the inevitability of it, there’s a knock on the door. He rushes to answer it, holding the door open only enough to take the glasses and the bottle opener. He mumbles a quick thanks before shutting the door on the confused worker.

Dieter enters you with a thick finger and you let out a loud uninhibited moan around his kiss. As Dustin attempts to open the wine he smiles, thinking of the young man who was just outside the door. He likes that you aren’t afraid; he’s always found that attractive in women.

“Here,” he says, pouring the pinkish liquid into three separate glasses. Neither of you look at him, so he repeats it again, this time with more command in his tone. You look so thoroughly kissed when you look up, red lipped and swollen, that it makes him ache, and Dieter’s wild haired annoyance is charming in its own way. He hands you both a glass and you take it with a shy smile. Dieter is less pleased, but takes it anyway with a soft ‘Thanks.’

Dustin watches as Dieter wipes your slick from his fingers with a pang of envy, swallowing down the wine. This isn’t something he’s made a habit of doing often— watching people fuck, threesomes — but he had felt that it wouldn’t have been right to do without Dieter. Truthfully, he had had every intention of going to your room by himself before he had peered into Dieter’s open door. The sight of him sitting there, staring up at the ceiling like he had been doing, inspired sympathy. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about that with Dieter, but what he’s learned over the years about sex is that some little white lies must be told sometimes.

A part of him feels guilty, knowing his own ex-wife lies somewhere in this hotel, probably brewing in her own anger. But he’s leaving her alone. That’s what she asked of him, isn’t it?

“So, any rules?” he asks, abandoning this train of thought before it crashes.

Dieter unwraps himself from you, sitting on the edge of the bed like you are, and shrugs his shoulders. You both look at each other. Dustin feels like an outsider, intruding on something too big and personal, but he doesn’t mind. A bit of self-flagellation mixed in with pleasure was always how he did his sex best, and there’s nothing quite like sleeping with two people very much in love during a pandemic.

“Dieter said you’ve never done this before,” he says, looking at you. “Is that true?”

You nod your head. “What do you mean by ‘rules?’”

“Well, I guess it’s a bit different because no one is with anyone here, but sometimes there will be requests people make to ensure no one gets their feelings hurt. For instance, you might not want me to cum inside of you or enter you at all. They’re for safety too—consent, boundaries.”

“I see.” You look down at your glass of wine, thinking. “I don’t really have any rules. Maybe just use condoms.”

“Are you sure?” Dieter whispers, tugging at your shirt sleeve. He leans in closer, says something Dustin can’t hear. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care if you do that,” you tell him. He seems surprised by your answer.

Dustin can’t help himself. “What’d you ask?”

Dieter shrugs his shoulders. “Just about how she feels about us.”

“Do you have any rules?” he asks.

“Don’t cum in her first.”

You look at Dieter quizzically and all he provides is a shrug that says nothing. Dustin nods his head. “That seems easy enough: condoms, don’t cum first.” He swallows down the rest of his wine and sets the glass aside.

You twirl the liquid around in your own glass, smiling faintly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna do this,” you say.

“Me either,” Dieter replies. He sits his glass, half finished, on the nightstand.

“I’m feeling high,” is your next sentence. Dieter seems to grimace.

“You’re in the wrong state of mind,” he tells you.

You shake your head. “No. I made up my mind before I got high. I want to be fucked,” you tell him, voice plain and even. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m sure I’ll be okay with just him.”

Dieter shakes his head adamantly, cheeks beginning to red. “I—I do want to. I always want to. I just want to make sure you’re not doing something you’re going to regret later.”

With a smile, you tell him teasingly, “I won’t regret it later. Not if you do it right.” You offer him a teasing wink that draws out his dimple. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss on your lips, too romantic and sweet to be good for your soul.

You decide then that this will have to be less Dieter focused if you want to last. “Lay on the bed,” you say to him. He nods his head, prying off his house shoes. You look over to Dustin, who stands awkwardly at the head of the bed. He smiles again with that charming Hollywood grin that age hasn’t dimmed in the slightest, and you grin back. “I want to kiss you again,” you tell him directly.

“That can be arranged,” he says, dipping onto the bed.

Dieter lies back against the heap of pillows at the headboard, his knees spread apart to make a spot for you. Dustin guides you there slowly, his body pressing into yours until there’s nowhere left to go but into Dieter. He kisses you deeply, hands strong and warm and unfamiliar in an entirely exciting way as they bunch up the fabric of your sleep shirt and expand over your skin.

Dieter doesn’t touch you, even though he badly wants to. Part of it is heartbreak and disbelief, and the other part is erotic fascination—watching you come apart like this, at another angle, is undeniably doing something to him. You are so pliable under Dustin, so easy for him, like you’ve waited your entire life to be like this. Maybe you have. Maybe he never paid enough attention—maybe in all your thousand little, subtle ways you had once alluded that you’d like to be this way. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, he could’ve made more rules, one like ‘Don’t enter her at all’ and ‘Don’t kiss him like that because I know once upon a time you kissed me like that and I screwed it up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better husband. I’ll be a better friend, just don’t kiss him like that.’

But then again maybe not. That’s a mouthful and you’re high and he’s high. Maybe it would be just like this. It’s just that he loves you. It’s an odd kind of love, but it’s real. Dustin has his tongue down your throat, his exploratory fingers beneath the fabric of a sleep shirt, but Dieter loves you. The fool.

Blissfully you are unaware of the pity party Dieter throws for himself behind you. He is a body, a springboard for desire and heat, as you surrender yourself to lust the way you never really have before. You do draw up some comparisons, unable to help yourself.

Dustin is grittier, all command and surrender. He is an electric taste of the illicit, some faraway fantasy made palpable. Dieter is your ground zero, vivid and stormy. He is what yesterday was. You read somewhere once that when you have a child with a man, their genes have the ability to change your own. Though you and Dieter have no children, you feel like something irrevocable like that happened — that you carry a part of him in your genetic makeup. It doesn’t make Dustin worse for it. In fact, it makes him better, an exotic vaccine into your very tired bloodstream. You deserve it. You deserve it so much, and you practically beg for it, mewling as Dustin kisses his way down.

“I bet you taste like heaven,” he mumbles warmly into your skin, licking a teasing strip over your midriff. You watch, mouth agape, heart beating wildly in your chest. Dieter tilts your chin up, directing your attention towards him, feeling impossibly greedy now. He kisses you languidly, tonguing lolling gently against yours, making it lasts forever. Your mind is in a haze, the slow, sensual turn of your tongues lighting a fire in your belly as Dustin uses his own on you. He trails lower and lower, warm and wet, fingers drawing down your underwear and then—

“Fuck,” you say, gasping out the word. You surprise yourself. Dieter captures the word in his mouth and groans in soft appreciation. You glance down your body, your knees hanging loosely over Dustin’s shoulders, watching his warm tongue pressing against your clit. It’s a sight to behold, the way his pink tongue flattens over you. His large hands grip onto your legs, holding you apart as your back presses into Dieter’s front. You feel his semi-erection nudge into your back.

Dustin spends his time with you, teasing you lightly with his tongue at first, learning the careful intricacies of your body. As you run your hands through his unruly bed hair, the tip of his tongue dips into your opening experimentally. He looks up to you, blue-green eyes searching for approval. You buck against his face, desperate, full of want and drugs and something indescribable but undeniably exciting. Ambition. Want. Joy. You used to masturbate to this man. His nose grazes against your clit and he laughs as you struggle. It is warm and bubbly, and you feel it all the way down to your bones.

You tug his hair so hard that he sends another noise vibrating through you: a low, half pained, half aroused groan.

Dustin brings his mouth back to your clit, grazes it gently with his teeth. “Oh,” you say, your head drawing backward, falling into Dieter’s shoulder. He watches you, his dark eyes fixed. He presses his lips onto yours like time hasn’t changed anything. You bask in it, give yourself over to the fantasy with the ease he’s offering it—you kiss like lovers, familiar and intimate, an unformidable duo in sex where you weren’t in marriage.

Dieter doesn’t leave your lips as he says, “I never got to see this sort of thing from this point of view. You’re so goddamn pretty.”

His hands tease up your sides, fingers drawing closer to your chest. “Is he making you soaked? Just like I used to?” he asks, his voice a low drawl. You arch up, bringing your lips up to his. He slots his mouth over yours, pressing into you roughly as his fingers find a pebbled nipple through the cloth of your night shirt. As he scraps over the top of it with the pad of his thumb, you draw your eyes closed. The heady scent of Dieter surrounding you mixed with the intoxicating feel of Dustin pressed against your cunt is almost too much to bear. Almost. You moan against Dieter’s lips again as Dustin’s tongue works you, and Dieter smiles, nodding. “Oh baby, he’s gonna be like me. A pitiful, helpless fool for you. Aren’t you?” he says, looking down the valley of your body to the other man.

Dustin grunts wordlessly against you and your hips fail you again, pressing up into the vibration. Sensing this isn’t the end of lack of control, Dustin presses a hand against them, pinning you down. As he licks you open, spreads your folds with the warmth of his eager tongue, you feel on fire, the sensation reaching every part of your body. He’s good at that. He’s lapping and lapping, his strong nose meeting your clit at just the right time each time he comes up.

“He’s so fucking good,” you say helplessly, uncaring of who hears. The drugs make you uninhibited, looser. You meet Dustin’s eyes as he takes your clit into his mouth again. He is sucking lightly and you try to roll your hips into him, but he presses down, a silent no. “Fuck, you’re so—good at that. Oh my god.”

Dieter pinches your nipple between his fingers, humming softly at the sight before him. “You’re gonna make me jealous, baby.”

Dustin’s mouth grows more focused, intent. You feel your orgasm drawing up, coming closer and closer. You open your eyes, blown wide with desire, and focus on Dieter. He kisses you softly again, bringing his hand up to your other breast. Dustin sucks your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and your hardened nipple scraps against the warmth of Dieter’s palm. It's all so right. You cum then, toes curling into the sheets, body going rigid beneath the touch of them both. Dustin doesn’t stop; he laps up your want greedily and Dieter draws up his head to watch. His eyes darken, full of desire and what you assume is a begrudging respect.

After you’ve ridden out your orgasm on Dustin, Dieter huffs out a soft laugh. “He wants to fuck you,” he tells you, thumb swiping affectionately across your cheek. Dustin, unable to let that one go, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and muffles a laugh against your skin.

“Bravo, you’re so jealous it’s making you stupid. She knows that,” he says, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Of course she knows that.”

“M’not jealous,” Dieter denies evenly. When he looks down at you, brown eyes too kind, you half believe him.

You break the eye contact and smile appreciatively down at the man between your legs. A finger you’d locked in his hair now swipes across the bottom of his shiny lips. He takes it into his mouth, wetting the pad, and you say, “You aren’t a very good team. I think it’s important to be a good team.”

Dieter places a hand on your arm, more of a phantom touch than a grip, but you know it’s a stroke of possessiveness. You glance back up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Dieter likes men,” you tell Dustin, not looking away from Dieter. “He’s not playing nice now and I think it’s a shame because I bet you taste just like me right now. And I know—“ your gaze drops down to Dustin, your voice velvet “—how much this dearest ex-husband of mine likes the taste of me. Have you ever kissed another man, Dustin?”

Dustin bites at your bait, smirk growing wide as his body stalking up yours. “Of course. I looked like a God in the ‘90s. Everyone wanted me and I wanted everyone,” he jokes, his warm hands flattening against your torso. His legs rest behind your thighs as he sits upwards, and you can see the tent of his erection against his sleep shorts. The black of them does little to conceal the full outline, and you thrill at the idea that he’s probably not wearing any underwear beneath the fabric.

You’re not one for getting starstruck - not anymore, anyway, a Los Angeles resident for years and the ex-wife of a star - but the fact that you used to masturbate to this man in front of you is something you still can’t shake. It occupies your mind, the way you had rewinded scenes from his raunchy, made for tv erotica over and over. Even now, many years later, you can still picture it: his younger frame pressed behind a blond woman, fucking into her in haste, his hands all over her and his thrusts rough. It was incredible to you back then, placed in some seedy location like an alley. Public and animalistic—the stuff of paperback romance novels. You remember the way he tugged her shirt upwards, how in the heat of the moment he grasped at any part of her he could get. A black bra and a long skirt, the bra pushed askew, going higher and higher with each thrust, and the skirt gripped onto, used for leverage as he pushed into her from behind. The VHS that hosted the scene had been passed from friend to friend in your college days, until someone’s VCR had eaten it. You feel a bit excited to know you’ve got the real thing right here. You think about telling him.

But it’s not about you, not now; it’s about Dieter. You widen your legs, make room for the ‘90s heart throb to slip between your body and come closer to the man you’ve dedicated your life to. In this moment you can admit as much. Dieter’s got his cock pressed against your back, and you know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you.

Dieter stiffens as Dustin presses closer and closer to him. You shift to accommodate them, moving your body up, guiding Dieter along. He holds you close like a shield but doesn’t protest when Dustin’s lips press into his.

Dustin tastes of earthy vineyards and you—like sweetened strawberry wine and the familiar palette of tangy and acidic that’s blessed Dieter’s tongue many times over. That’s it, he thinks with a smile against Dustin’s generous lips. That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life.

He plunges his tongue so deeply into Dustin’s mouth, it threatens to gag them both. But it doesn’t. They’ve both got their party tricks, after all. Dieter’s kiss grows hungry and suddenly there’s no space between any of you. You are a perfectly molded puzzle, fingers on skin, in hair, tongues swiping against lips and chests, and there are deep guttural moans exposing what the erections do well to show.

You know Dieter wants this, can feel his evident excitement press into your back. You happily welcome the warmth of Dustin’s firm body pressing impossibly close to yours. Dieter wets his bottom lip and squeezes you reassuringly, a habit from other life slipping into this new one.

You alternate kissing one another, creating a new taste on your warm, eager tongues. It is perfect. Dustin’s hands gingerly fumble over your chest, not focused or intent but curious, and Dieter’s allow it. The possessiveness has translated into something entirely more agreeable, and these men work together like lovers.

Your fingers grip at Dustin’s muscular shoulders, trail lower and lower over the slope of his chest down to the dip above his shorts. The path is slow and arduous to your lust riddled brain. He grunts against your collarbone, his hot breath fanning over you, and you go lower still, taking the shorts with you.

Dieter’s eyes trail the same place yours do, his chin tucked into your neck; you share the same view of Dustin: the red weeping head of his cock as it bops against his toned stomach, eager to be touched and licked and surrounded. Dustin sighs hotly against you as you press against him - against it - and Dieter swipes his tongue behind your ear. It is heaven, the way Dieter and Dustin feel against you, combined like this. You want them both. You need them.

You wrap your hands in Dieter’s curls, let him support your body as it rubs frantically over Dustin’s. Dieter peppers kisses alongside your neck and whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. God, I was so fucking lucky—“

The rest of it is lost against the shell of your earlobe. Some things - even the kindest, most genuine things - are better left unsaid.

Dustin emits soft, urgent moans as his cock catches between your bodies. The tempo of your shared thrusts grows quick, more focused, and he is close, on the very brink of letting go. You knit your brows, watch curiously and excitedly as he draws closer. You think of it: A hot spurt, just for you. Dieter holds up your sleep shirt, seeming to expect the same.

But then Dustin stops, his thick fingers rough and tight against your skin as he stills your movements. In the morning you’ll be bruised, a thought that thrills you. “Not yet,” is what he says in explanation, leaning his forehead against yours.

Dieter laughs softly, some terrible joke about bad endurance dying before it rises to be heard. He’s on his best behavior. Dustin tastes of you, of him, and you’re all naked and you’re so happy, so pliant. You lean against him like he’s someone you can lean on, and he swallows the serenity of that thought silently. Dieter is a half guilt, a perpetual bleeding heart, and you are his salvation. He knows it doesn’t work like that, can’t, but sex is not about what is real and logical. That’s why you were always so fucking good at it; it was beyond the both of you, and somehow a language you spoke best together.

He should feel worse about Dustin. Perhaps it’s because you want it so bad, or maybe it’s because he’s so horny, but the inclusion of him feels less intrusive than before. This is not your marriage bed - it’s been lost to the cruel seas of time - but it feels like a union, and Dustin plays a curious part. Not the voyeuristic onlooker, but the active participant, his glistening cock hot and heavy against your beautiful stomach. It should make Dieter sick. It did, thirty minutes ago. But now it makes him hard, wets his mouth. The bastard is good looking.

What can he say - you have always had good taste.

You turn your head and lick into Dieter’s mouth, redirecting your attention. He turns you between their bodies, pressing you into him as he kisses you feverishly. Dustin assists him, holding you against his body like Dieter had been doing before, only upwards. Dieter draws back and lifts the cotton sleep shirt over your head. He takes advantage like Dustin hadn’t been smart enough to, wetting your nipple with his warm mouth and tweaking the other between his fingers. You squirm, pressing your hot cunt against his stomach. He feels too clothed suddenly, having been denied contact because layers. You help him take off his shirt and Dustin helps you take off his pants. You waste no time wrapping your hot hand around him and tugging loosely.

His mouth finds your nipple again and you wrap your fingers into his unruly hair, jerking him off slowly as he kisses and sucks at your bare chest. He knows you’re already dripping, seen it on Dustin’s glossy lips when he got done with you, but this is his body remembering you and he can't stop. He remembers the way you got when he licked at you like you were the last scraps of his final meal on earth. How desperate and needy you became, just as desperate and needy as him. His hand travels down your stomach, straight down to your cunt, and he palms the wet heat of you into his hand. Dieter relishes the way you gasp into his mouth as the heel of his hand finds your clit, a smirk on his lips and a sentence like, “That’s it, baby,” coming out against you.

He fingers your entrance teasingly and finds you devastatingly wet. This is heaven, he thinks, the wet stickiness of you on the pad of his finger and your hot breath on his lips. You dig your nails into his shoulder, shut your eyes against the sensation of one of his fingers entering you. Dieter is ground zero. In your Garden of Eden, Dieter was there, at once Adam and the serpent. This is the apple. How delicious it is to be fucked, how perfectly human. Of course they’d turn on God for this. Cover up with leaves and be terrified of the whole earth later. Bleed and cry. Divorce. Whatever. This is worth turning back on perfection for. Poor Eve. Poor you.

You rub yourself against his hand and Dustin takes one of your breasts into his hand, watching. Dieter is so focused on the squelch of your juices and the way his finger - fingers now, two, and you stretch so perfectly for him - enters you that he doesn’t even mind. You’re no pissing contest, he sees that now—you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He swallows your moans and tries his best not to cum. Your grasp on his cock is so loose and it’d be so embarrassing to cum on your stomach when the tugs are nothing, and besides this is about you. So he focuses on trying not to.

“Condom,” you mutter, your lips landing on the side of Dieter’s mouth. Dieter nods his head but doesn’t pull back from you. He watches, enchanted, as your hips move against his hand. He can feel your orgasm build in the way you clench around his fingers, the penultimate pressure too much to bear. When you come, its with a shudder, your body tight and rigid above his as you ride it out. Dieter is so high and so in love with you, and he’s so sick about it that all he can do is laugh earnestly, even though what he wants is to ask you to marry him again.

Dustin is touching you all over with his hands, palming your perfect breasts, and you’re arching farther and farther back. Dieter can hardly bear the sight—not because of the jealousy—but because he’s deathly afraid this is it for him. You’re the best thing he’s ever had, and he knows he can’t think that way. You had a good run—you’re great friends now—but God, you married him in Vegas and you used to sketch his nose with careful affection onto canvases you kept for yourself. Who’s gonna sit in your studio now? Who’s gonna take up space in your heart, make you smile over the canvas as you work? He would weep if you didn’t look so pretty and sated, leaning into Dustin the way you are.

He kisses you hard on the mouth just to get rid of the thoughts, and then he kisses Dustin too, grabbing roughly at the back of his hair the way he hasn’t ever with you. It’s not kind, but Dustin doesn’t seem to mind; he moans gruffly, absorbing nothing but the desire behind it.

Your hands explore Dieter’s exposed skin as they kiss, warm and gentle, unconsciously fingering the scar he got as a child. You know the map of this body. When his hard cock bops against his stomach you take it in your hand again. Before he has time to think, you put him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against Dustin’s lips. They stop kissing, looking between them at the sight of you. Dustin is so considerate, so much better than Dieter has ever been. He moves aside your hair, kisses against the curve of your spine. All Dieter can do is think about not cumming. He feels bad about this, wishes he could gather enough strength to think about your hair and things like that. But your mouth is warm and you take him in with expertise, bobbing in a rhythm he wouldn't dare break. Up, down, the tip of your tongue running alongside a vein, back up again. He’ll cum like this. You look up at him through your eyelashes and he touches the top of your head with unspeakable tenderness. Cum, you beckon, but he won’t. Can’t.

Where is that goddamn condom? How can he make this last forever?

He pulls back from your lips smiling an apologetic grin when you at him, surprised. You seem to understand, a devilish little smirk playing across your glossy lips. He wants to kiss you, but even that feels dangerous right now. He thumbs your lips instead.

“Condoms,” he tells you softly. You nod your head.

“In my bag.” You point over to the corner of the room. Dieter pads off to get them.

Dustin’s hands sneak between your thighs and you sigh when he finds your entrance, the tip of a finger rubbing the spot Dieter abandoned. You’re so wet and you want it so badly. He presses his lips against your shoulder and you feel the heat of his breath against your goose pimpled flesh. As you loll your head against him, he slides a finger in. You scratch the back of his head and nod frantically.

“You’re so tight.” He nips your skin and then licks at you with a desperation you’ve only experienced in Dieter. You like being wanted this badly. You lift your hips and ride his finger, squeezing around him. So tight, right. He laughs and you feel that too. “You like being talked dirty to, don’t you? You’re being so good, riding my finger like this. I can’t wait to fuck you. To feel you around my cock like this. And I bet he’s thinking that too.”

You both look over to Dieter as he unwraps a found foil and takes out the condom. You sigh; Dustin’s thumb finds your swollen clit. “We’ve got to make him cum in you, but I don’t think you’ll find that hard. He wants you so bad. Look—“ You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”

Dieter strokes himself through the protective sleeve as he watches the two of you. You feel the familiar sensation of heat spreading low in your belly. When Dustin dares to enter another finger into you, you gasp, feeling full and stretched and yet not full enough. He spreads his fingers inside you, preparing you. You tug at his hair and make eye contact with Dieter.

He smiles lopsidedly, suddenly boyish and more handsome than he’s ever been. You think he looks happy for you—so pleased that you’re pleased, with a glint in his eye. Maybe it’s the drugs. You don’t know. Maybe he is happy that you’re happy. He was always better at saying he loved you than he was at showing it, but you suspect that this is his showing you. Love. Maybe it spills over in divorce, just another cruel thing you’ve got to cope with.

When Dieter comes back, he presses a condom into Dustin’s thigh. You are at the edge of another orgasm, everything perfectly in place — the sensation of Dustin’s thumb, the way his breath hits your skin, the idea that Dieter is watching you—but he denies you it, interrupting. You go to protest, whine, but he doesn’t give you a chance.

Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity. You squeeze Dieter’s shoulder. The other condom package falls loosely onto the bed as Dustin uses his hand to keep you steady, your knees weak from the pleasure.

You tug at Dieter’s hair to make him stop. Dustin seems to know instinctively, leaving you feeling empty when he takes his fingers away. His slick covered fingers rest on your hips as you tell them both, breathlessly, “I can’t do another one. It’s too much.”

Dieter shakes his head in protest but Dustin takes the information in stride. He’s too good at this, moves through the motions with ease, improvising quickly. He extends his slicked fingers to Dieter. Dieter, who has been so focused on you, looks at them quizzically, unsure of what they mean. Then he seems to get it, hard features smoothing out in realization.

He looks at Dustin, and it’s not like with you. He's focused, not icy or angry but so intent. It’s not a loveless gaze, per se, but it is devoid of love; filled not with something warm but something hot.

Dustin’s cock presses into the small of your back. As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. You bite at your lip. You’ve never seen Dieter with men before, and this new side of him excites you—like unlocking a new door in a house you’ve had for ages. He puts on a show for you, bobbing like you did on him. Dustin’s fingers seem to be an extension of yourself. You shudder as Dieter tongues along them, and Dustin rubs himself helplessly against your backside.

“I want to see what you’re like with men,” you say to Dieter, your voice barely a whisper. But Dieter hears you and his eyebrows perk in interest. This is a long unanswered question to something you’ve never been brave enough to ask. You’ve always known that he’s been interested in men — that he’s had sex with them — but you’ve never really questioned outright about what it was like. It felt equal parts too personal and hurtful; you didn’t want to know what it was like with other people before you. But everything seems different tonight. You want to know badly, like he’s got secrets that could be your salvation hidden in him.

You slip from between them, lying against the pillows. Before filling the space, Dieter looks over at you. His brown eyes implore you for a sign and you nod your head.

He’d asked you earlier, when Dustin asked about rules, if you’d be alright with them touching each other, maybe even entering one another. You hadn’t expected it to get to that, so it had been easy to say you didn’t mind. In fact, you had figured Dieter only said it as a means to scare you away from the idea. And now that the notion is not only on the horizon, but a reality, it comes just as easy to say yes—maybe even more so.

He stalls, hesitating, so you nod again, laughing. He smiles. Your ex-husband is a startlingly beautiful man like this, looking so openly vulnerable. He’s physically and emotionally naked and you’ve waited decades for it.

Dieter and Dustin kiss each other like men do, aggressive and dominating, neither willing to lose the good fight just yet. You feel your interest piqued, watching the way their fingers touch each other. How they tug and grip, search for purchase all over. Dieter is much rougher with Dustin than he’s ever chanced to be with you, with bruising kisses and bruising touches. When he grabs the man’s cock, it is with an ugly dedication, fast dry and quick tugs. Dustin hisses the first time but doesn’t protest. In fact, he thrusts his hips unashamedly into Dieter’s closed fist, licking into his mouth with a degree of delight. They tug at the back of each other’s heads of hair and eventually Dieter gives way, falling back to allow Dustin to mount him.

Dustin searches for the condom on the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to grasp at long denied air. You watch through heavy lids as he slides the latex onto himself. He’s circumcised, pink and swollen at the tip. Drips of pre-cum have made him all glossy and you bite your lip watching him struggle to line himself up. When he gets the latex down to his base, he smiles a satisfied smirk. He doesn’t look at you. If he notices you staring, he doesn’t mind at all. This is his favorite play, and he’s an actor after all.

Dieter’s knees knock apart to accommodate his frame—a body you’ve begun to notice with quiet admiration in your desire. He’s broad, much broader than he’d been in his youth, and he’s got muscle all over now, whereas before he’d been lean and lanky. He’s hard and tight and as he begins to rub himself against Dieter, you’re taken with the way his skin stretches over the plains of his back, his arms, his stomach. Dustin is in impeccable shape, perhaps one of the only men who can claim he’s doing better now than he was in his youth. Gone is the boyishness, replaced with a heady, sure masculinity.

Dieter seems to relinquish his fight happily now, soft growls emitting from his lips. Dustin presses down into him, and while most of what they’re doing is obscured by Dieter’s legs, you can imagine it well enough: the steady, erratic thrusts of Dustin’s cock rubbing against Dieter’s. There’s a sheen of sweat on them both and Dustin buries his head in Dieter’s neck. He licks at the places you had once, and it is nothing but erotic little huffs from them both.

“You’re…” Dustin begins, but falters off. He lifts himself up, repositions, bracketing Dieter’s head between his strong arms. Dieter’s eyes are pressed closed, his dark features etched with pleasure. All they do for a while is rub against each other. You feel like an intruder, like something stopping them from getting where they need to be. Maybe you are.

You dare to speak: “Aren’t you going to touch each other?”

Dieter looks startled. He’s red in the cheeks, the exertion of their movements and the heat of his desire making him flush. He taps Dustin on the arm, making the steady roll of his hips slow until suddenly it’s nothing. It’s all quiet for the first time in minutes.

They both look at you with intent eyes. But Dieter is the first to take charge. “You should fuck her,” he tells Dustin. Dieter looks at you, questioning.

“But—“ you protest. Dieter shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Later.”

Dustin has no qualms about the interchanging of you and Dieter. You notice that he's notably gentler with you than he was with him, though. He crawls to you, kisses you chastely—as if testing the waters. There’s nothing necessarily erratic or rough about what he does to you. He looks between your spread legs and fingers at your entrance once more, circling the area teasingly. You groan in anticipation and his head falls to your chest. He takes a taut nipple into his mouth as he plunges his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your front wall. As you sigh heavily, he moves his wet mouth to the other nipple.

You turn your head, catch Dieter’s fixed gaze. He reaches out his hand and you lace your fingers together. He’s touching himself through his condom, stroking softly. You want to devour him.

Dustin takes his fingers from you, and you look back at him. Before you can plead for more he says, “I’m gonna enter you now.” You nod, wordless.

He gathers the slick from his fingers and coats his latex covered cock with it. As you squeeze Dieter’s hand, Dustin lines himself to your entrance. His kiss is soft, barely a kiss at all, and he enters you, inch by careful inch. He feels so overwhelmingly right, snug, puncturing something decidedly primal inside of you when he bottoms out.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan hotly against his shoulder. He manages a small laugh, running his lips against your cheek. “Go hard,” you ask. He hasn’t moved yet, stays still inside of you. You think of the way he was with Dieter.

“I don’t know if I can. I think I’ll…” He swallows. “I know I’ll cum.”

“Please,” you beg. You dig crescent shaped nail marks into ass and he smiles teasingly, running his warm tongue against your sensitive skin. He presses so intimately into you, your nipples scrap against his chest. It feels so good. Everything does.

“He said no,” he answers, looking up to meet your eyes.

“He’ll give me anything I want,” you say. Dieter’s fingers leave yours then, and you look over. You think you’ve made him mad but he’s only repositioning himself, coming closer to your bodies. He doesn’t say anything.

Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Dustin mumbles, finally drawing back. You nod your head, encouraging, but he doesn’t go harder. He moves in the same way he did before, experimental and slow. When you look at him, imploring silently, he shakes his head. “But a rule is a rule, baby. ‘Sides, I think he’s making me get you ready. Your husband is a bit of a pervert. He’s touching himself, watching me stretch you open with my cock.” Dustin presses his lips into yours. Against you, he mumbles, “Did ya know he likes to watch? Bet he likes to hear too. You—“ Dustin pushes back into you, stopping himself, and the squelch of your juices adds to the effect. He smirks. “—You’ll get fucked. Just not by me. Not yet. Maybe I’ll fuck him while he fucks you. Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”

You feel Dieter’s fingers but can’t move your eyes away from Dustin’s. They’re greener like this, up close. Dieter trails a line over your body, and then up to Dustin’s, with a lone finger. Dustin turns to look at him and he smiles, nodding. They seem to work without words.

Dustin reaches down to grip the condom as he pulls out of you. You look over at Dieter, half angry and half amused that he could interrupt. You realize what they’re doing almost immediately. Dieter holds open your legs by pressing his palm against one of your knees, and Dustin shuffles, moving back to let Dieter take his place.

His cock probes against your entrance and he smiles down at you like a fool. “Hey,” he tells you evenly, half sober. You ache for him. You clench around nothing as he licks into your mouth.

“Hey,” you respond, overcome. Your fingers wrap around his arms and you notice that he’s got more muscle than before too.

“You want to be fucked?” Although he attempts to make this a question, it is more of a statement. You nod along anyway. He kisses you hard, rough like with Dustin, and he nearly enters you as he rubs himself greedily against your naked warmth, wetting himself with your slick.

“Yes. Hard, like you do with him,” you tell him. He smiles against your lips. You take his cock in your hand, so much more sure with him than anyone, and he slides into you. It feels like homecoming, wet and warm and familiar, your fingers digging into his skin and the smell of sex in the air. He does what you ask, his thrusts sharp, his hips snapping against your hips.

“Dieter,” you pant out, nodding your head. He kisses the side of your mouth sloppily and you smile the best you can. Where Dustin felt right, Dieter feels perfect. You feel like you touch the hem of eternity as he plunges into you with the intensity you requested, uninhibited and giving in the roughness.

He repositions you both in one expert movement, moving to his knees, pushing your hips farther up. This makes you let out a startled gasp; he hits you far deeper like this, his thumbs digging into the flesh on your hips with bruising intensity. You can’t kiss from this position, but it doesn’t matter. He fucks you. Really fucks you.

You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. He doesn’t even touch himself. This makes you frown.

“D—Dieter,” you stammer out.

“Huh?” he grunts.

“Dustin.”

“Mm, what—what about him?”

“Let him fuck me too. Please.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No, you’re mine right now. You’re—“ he snaps into you roughly, the bed creaking. “I’ll suck him off. Or maybe—“ Dieter grunts again, “Maybe he’ll be smart and he’ll get behind me. And maybe he’ll—“ his head drops to your neck, and your head the next part through mumbles. “Maybe he’ll rub against me like he was doing before. But it doesn’t matter right now. Just think about you. It’s all for you.”

You close your eyes, nodding. That sounds fine. Great. Dieter’s finger gazes at your clit and you nod, your hand reaching out to hold his wrist. You always liked to feel the way his forearm moved as he did this to you.

“Cum for me and I’ll cum for you,” he says, and you feel it begin, the stirrings of another orgasm. You think of him, of the way he punctures his thrusts with grunts, how good he feels inside of you, bottoming out like this with measured fury. You like how rough he’s being, like never before. You like this side of Dieter. You like that there is more of Dieter to know.

When you cum, you call out his name. He swallows it, pressing his lips to yours. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me. You’ve always been.” He fucks faster into you, his own release on the horizon. You squeeze around him once, twice, and that’s it; he’s filling the condom up and he’s gasping earnestly, amazed and so goddamn in love. He kisses you on the mouth and it’s so genuine. You kiss him back, smiling like a newlywed.

“Dustin,” you say against Dieter’s lips, after a moment. Your chests are both heaving and you're drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He presses his forehead against yours and you smile. “Let me take care of him,” you tell him.

Dieter rolls off of you, collapsing into bed with a soft groan and saying nothing. You take a moment to recuperate, breathing in and out, letting the bliss of this moment wash over you.

“Come here,” you say to Dustin, patting the open space of the bed beside you. He listens, the bed dipping beneath his weight. It takes a lot of effort on your part, but you rise to your knees. You guide him onto his back and he helps you straddle him. For a moment, you just sit there on top of him, looking at him.

“I used to masturbate to you,” you finally admit. This makes him grin. Beneath your cunt, his erection jumps a little.

“Thanks,” he says. His hand palms one of your breasts again. “You don’t have to do anything to me. I can finish myself off if you want.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Didn’t you hear me? I used to masturbate to you. This is a dream.”

Another hand comes up to cup your other breasts. “Are you sure you don't feel too sore? He fucked you pretty good.” You begin to glide your cunt alongside his prominent erection. He sucks in a swallow breath. “Guess that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm.

“Just let her fuck you,” Dieter tells him quietly. You smile over at him but he doesn’t see it; he’s too busy watching the way you move your hips over Dustin. Even with a flaccid penis and in a state of post-coital peace, you manage to get to him.

You ride Dustin quickly, grabbing onto his strong shoulders as he tongues your alongside chest, finding your nipples. He groans, the sensation vibrating throughout your body as you follow the motion his hands set for you. A fast up and down, your back arching, taking him in completely and then pushing back so far he nearly falls out.

Admittedly he does most of the work, your legs wobbly and your body tired. But it feels good. God, does it feel good. You like this, being with two men back to back, each of them taking turns. Dustin generously tries to get you to cum again, his fingers sliding between your bodies, but you stop him.

“It’s too much. Just this,” you tell him. You grind down on him to make him feel better about it, and he hums sympathetically around a mouthful of your breast.

You ride him less enthusiastically the closer he gets, both of you too tired and worn. He stops aiding you so much, kissing anywhere he can access: your jaw, your neck, the side of your mouth. He lets your body fall forward into his. It’s a sort of lazy fucking that you do, meeting halfway to create the sharp thrusts that push him closer to climax.

“Cum in me,” you tell him, voice silky against his ear. He knows how tired you are, feels it too. He gathers up the last of both of your strengths, rutting up into you with intent. As he cums, you ride him, curious, taking all he can give. Dieter is too sensitive, can’t stand to move when he cums, but Dustin nods, moaning against you. When it’s over, you collapse into him, hugging his sweaty body. He laughs against your warm skin.

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, so only you can hear. You nod. You lie on him like that for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart. Dieter watches you, his expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look faraway.

You reach out to him with your fingers and he smiles, coming to.

Dustin helps you off of him and you fall between them, sated and spent. He slides off his condom and reaches across your body. “You want me to take yours?” he asks Dieter. Dieter, no longer feeling jealous but merely tired, nods. He hands the man his condom and Dustin pads off to the bathroom. Dieter and you watch this, amused.

“I kinda understand what you see in him now,” he confesses, smiling. He interlocks your fingers and you let him.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring his comment. You look over at him.

He nods, sincere. “Of course. I assume I did it right?”

“You did it right.”

“And you don’t regret it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

You kiss him chastely, even though you know you shouldn’t. “I know,” you tell him softly. “I love you too.”

“Like a friend?”

“No.”

“Like a husband?” he asks, testing the waters. You laugh. Dustin comes back from the bathroom.

“No. Something more than all of that.”

“I can handle that.”

You nod your head. “Me too,” you tell him.

The bed dips from the weight of Dustin once more, and you roll over to your side, cuddling into him. He passes a warm rag to Dieter and he accepts it, cleaning himself. He goes to hand it to you, but you shake your head.

“I’ll take a shower in a little. When I can walk.”

This earns a laugh from them both. Dustin reaches an arm around you, drawing you closer to his body. Dieter, surprisingly, doesn’t mind this; he curls up behind you, too, wrapping an arm around your waist. You’re all so close, and it’s nice. He thinks maybe they might be something to this sharing after all.

“I liked that,” you say to no one in particular.

Dustin hums, fingering trailing over your arm. “Enough to do it again?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I think the opportunity for this kind of thing only happens once in a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. This is Hollywood, and they love sequels,” Dieter adds, smiling.

“Yeah,” Dustin nods, “That’s true.”

You close your eyes, smiling faintly. “A sequel, then, maybe,” you say tiredly.

In the morning, you do not regret any of it.

—-

A YEAR LATER.

SUBJECT: THREE’S COMPANY, BUT ONLY SOMETIMES from: dustin.mulray@gmail.com

I was at an art show the other day and I saw a painting with your name on it. The guy in it looked a little familiar (they told me it was an old painting, from nearly a decade ago, before you were both famous. Cute). I bought it, of course. Not that I’m in the habit of buying paintings from people I’ve slept with, but it was for charity and it looked good and I’ve got a new apartment that I’ve got to fill, so I thought why not? It cost a lot (good for you!) and because of that they let me wrangle an email address from them to tell you what a brilliant job you did. You did great. Very Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton of you. Anyway, to the point: You weren’t at the premiere of the documentary with Dieter last month. He told me that it's because you don’t like that scene, and I don’t blame you. Neither do I. But I was wondering how you feel about commissioned paintings? And do you think that Dieter would like to come with you to deliver it if your opinion is positive? (He told me I had to ask you that myself, so I think he’d be happy to accompany you if the canvas is too big to carry by yourself). P.S. I’m asking you for sex–a sequel, as it were–but I really would like a painting, too. I’ll spend a lot (not for the sex, but the art. I guess for the sex too, if you’re into that). Love, D. Mulray.

—-

SUBJECT: HOPEFULLY NOT ROSEMARY’S BABY SITUATION to: david.bravo@gmail.com, dustin.mulray@gmail.com

Sometimes I commission art work for people I like and sometimes I make an exception for those I don’t if they pay enough. I’m sure you fall somewhere in those categories, Dustin. But I must warn you: I won’t do dick drawings. I might do a vagina one if the inspiration strikes. I must admit I’ve never had a man ask me for sex over email. Kind of thrilling, like a retro sext but without any of the sexy parts. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). P.S. It will cost you. For tax purposes, I hope you’ll let ‘it’ be the art.

—

from: david.bravo@gmail.com to: you, dustin.mulray@gmail.com

Who said divorce couldn’t be sexy?

[ktheist]

06 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.8k

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis.

“friends?”

“i’m still mad at you.”

x

kim taehyung looks at you like a teacher would to a student that he suspects would likely cheat on a test after said test.

“what?” you ask, lifting up one of the topmost boxes in the storage room and placing it down gently to sift through the contents in the box below it.

“nothing,” he shrugs, his breath disappearing into the cold air.

“okay, then come and help me look for the angel,” you’re in your family’s storage room after you’ve returned to the kim’s living room after you broke apart from the hug at the sound of feet padding down the hallway.

it was, unsurprisingly, taehyung who came to check up on you and see if seokjin needed ‘help’ treating a tiny cut.

to which seokjin brandished the most innocent smile and answered, “nah, we’re good. we’re almost done here.”

feelin your guilt eat up, you offered to look for your family angel, apologizing profusely, “i’m sorry i ruined christmas, i think we have an angel from last year’s decorations in the storage room.”

“oh honey, ruining christmas is a bit of a stretch,” mrs. kim laughed warmly, “but if you want to, bring one of these lazy bums with you.”

and that’s how kim taehyung and kim seokjin ended up butting heads and almost fighting about who gets to escort you out of the kim manor and into ___’s house which is just next door to look for said angel.

“since you’re the head chef, jinnie, i think taehyung should go with ___,” mina interjected with that prim, innocent smile.

you almost wrapped your arms around seokjin possessively and declared that you didn’t care if he was in charge of christmas eve’s meal - and that you wanted him to come with you.

“you know, you’ve been glaring at mina since she got here,” taehyung’s voice pulls you out of your ocean of thoughts.

“yeah? what about it?” you roll your eyes, placing another box on the ground to look through the one underneath it.

“would it hurt to be nice? she lost her parents last year,” he’s still leaning against the doorway like he doesn’t see you huffing and puffing trying to get move the boxes around.

yoo mina’s state of living alone and inevitable possibility of celebrating christmas alone this year is what made mr. and mrs. kim invite her over for christmas eve. and since everyone knew everyone in this neighborhood, none of them would expect either of you to treat her any less than family.

“oh gee, i don’t know, if she’d stop eye-fucking seokjin, i’d very much appreciate it,” you don’t mean to, but taehyung flinches from your glare.

“are you seriously jealous?” the glint of gold and red in the third box you’re sifting through catches your eyes.

found that christmas ornament box.

“are you seriously jealous?” a high pitched imitation leaves your lips as you pull out the porcelain angel, holding it with your uninjured hands, “i’m not jealous, you prick. get out of the way,” you push past the boy and march over to the kim’s without even looking back.

“oh my god, seokjin, this tastes so good!” mina’s voice rings from the kitchen all the way to the door as you push off your shoes and march over to the half-done decorated christmas tree.

“really? gosh, i’m so relieved. you don’t know how many times i almost burned our kitchen in seoul for this,” seokjin laughs.

“you? burning kitchens? highly dubious. you’re one of the best cooks i know.” mina remarks, her ear-to-ear grin makes her look like a monkey.

“you kids are so cute,” mrs. kim chirps, “mina, do you have a boyfriend? forget boyfriend, seokjin here makes a great husband, don’t you think?”

you let out a frustrated huff as you set up the ladder leaned up against the wall that taehyung used even though he didn’t need a ladder to reach the top. well, that was before you broke the angel. you set up the ladder as close to the tree as you can.

“o-oh, i don’t have a boyfriend,” your back’s on her but you can practically hear her blushing.

“hey, do you mind if i did that? not that i’m unconvinced of your expertise to put the angel on the tree but let’s just be safe after... what happened,” a familiar velvet-like voice murmurs from next to you, a warm hand covering yours that’s holding the angel.

“i thought...” you steal a glance over the dark haired girl and mrs. kim at the counter and back at the smiling seokjin.

well, he’s here and not there.

you hop off the ladder and stand on your tippy toes before placing a kiss on his cheek, “thanks.”

“if i knew i would get a reward, i would’ve offered to help more often,” hymn trickles out of seokjin’s mouth as he chuckles, easily climbing the ladder and placing the angel on top of the tree with your commentaries of moving it “slightly to the left” and “okay, but slightly but not too much to the right.”

“okay, perfect,” you clap in satisfaction, stepping closer to the man and offering your hand, “what? men need help getting off from high places too,” you grin.

“if you insist,” he returns your grin with his own, his hand swallowing yours like it could break it with one squeeze and yet his touch is as light as a feather as he hops off the last step of the ladder.

the lights come to live around the tree like fairy dust as the gold and red baubles glints and winks at the twined hands in between you and seokjin whilst mrs and mr kim stands a few feet away, the middle aged woman’s head leaned against her husband’s shoulder. you can distinctly make out the outlines of her smile.

it looks like namjoon’s when you turn around to walk back to the kitchen for a drink, the man sitting down on the sofa a few feet away from the tree where you were standing, granting him a full view of how tightly but tenderly seokjin’s hand was gripping yours.

x

“hey,” is the first thing you say to the middle child when you manage to catch him watching some christmas movie on the tv.

“hey,” he shoots you a knowing smile before reverting his eyes on the screen.

for the longest moment, you stay there, letting the sound of the actors and actresses fill the room whilst the better cooks among all of you which are mrs. kim, mina and seokjin chatter along in the kitchen, waiting for the meals to cook.

“i knew,” he says ever so calmly, the only reason you knew you heard is because he’s looking at you, “i knew about you two -seokjin and taehyung got into a fight because taehyung deleted your number from seokjin’s phone - i think he made seokjin’s account block you on all social media but i gather everything’s alright now because you two made up?”

“yeah...” you trail off in an attempt to laugh it off but failing miserably, hugging your knees to your chest to make yourself smaller, “no, we decided not to do this.”

namjoon’s looks at you like he didn’t see that coming but nods anyway.

“what?” you ask.

“nothing...” he shrugs, “just that it didn’t look like seokjin was going to give up on you even if it meant never talking to taehyung ever again...”

“they didn’t really fight, did they?” you feel your eyebrows knitting together.

“no, but they would’ve if i hadn’t been the voice of reason,” a well-deserved tinge of proudness wrapped around his voice as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding but before you can even say anything, taehyung’s calling out to you from the front door, all dressed in his jacket.

you don’t even have to ask why. standing up and picking up your own jacket, you follow him outside.

so it goes, you walking down the neighborhood with a gap you didn’t know could exist in between you after all those years. and the snowflakes fluttering down and settling on top taehyung’s deep brown tresses.

“sorry, i was being pretty annoying, wasn’t i?” he suddenly says.

and you shrug.

“it’s cool, i was being annoying too anyway.”

“you and seokjin... you looked good together,” he announces in the air. breath coming out in puffs.

you find yourselves in the abandoned park you used to play at as kids. taehyung leans against one side of the monkey bar and you on the other.

his hands are buried in his pockets - as if he went out with the sole thought of this talk and complete disregard for dressing warm.

well, so did you.

you’re freezing in just your jacket. the muffler around your neck isn’t doing anything.

“where did that come from?” you pretend to look up at the sunless sky but your heart’s already thumping uncontrollably in your chest.

is this really happening?

it would seriously blow if it was all just a dream.

“just things that i notice... you're acting like a jealous girlfriend and he looks like he’s enjoying it. you should be together,” taehyung shrugs, as if he didn’t just threatened a lifetime’s worth of friendship when he found out about you and seokjin.

somehow, you hear the crunch of the snow under your feet. the rush of the blood in your ears.

it feels like taehyung’s words just light up a fire to an ocean full of oil spill.

“just like that?” you breathe out in disbelief, “you think i’m just gonna say thank you after you literally forced me to choose you and then after i did, you’re going to say i proved myself and passed the test? after all the shit you spouted? i might be messed up but you’re selfish as fuck, taehyung.”

“i know,” instead of the flames you thought would burn in his eyes, taehyung’s replies seems too unrealistic. resigned.

“i hate you.” you say bluntly.

“as you should,” comes his response.

“literally?” you sigh. half-humored and half-vindictive.

“you can slap me-”

almost as though your motor senses got triggered by that single word, your hand goes flying to his face.

the sound of skin smacking against skin rings in the air for a good few seconds even after the deed’s been done.

“ouch!” you scream, gripping the hand that you used to bitch slap taehyung because it happens to also be the hand which finger you cut on the angel shard and boy, did the slap sting.

“ow! why’d you slap me?” taehyung blinks several times, jaw hitting the ground.

“wha- you told me to!” you almost scream in his face, mainly because of the searing pain spreading across your palm.

“you didn’t even wait for me to finish! i was saying, you can slap me but i think it’s enough karma that i had to hear you have sex over the phone with my brother three weeks ago and that’s why i’m saying you’re gonna see each other behind my back anyway so stop hiding your relationship-”

another smack lands on his face.

“you ass, what do you take me for? a liar? we’re not seeing each other. that was the last time... ow!” as if the last second was up, you finally explode.

and it just so happens that you used the same bandaged hand to smack him.

for someone who’s supposedly asking for forgiveness, taehyung has the gall to scrunch his nose as though in pain himself at the sight of your agony.

“shit. that’s gotta hurt like a bitch.” this time, he sounds more like him.

rude. unbothered. insensitive.

but so very taehyung.

he also has a hand clasped against the reddening cheek that probably will start forming a map of your palm on it soon.

“ya think?” you spit out, glaring.

taehyung simply shrugs before stretching open his free arm, “friends?”

“i’m still mad at you,” you declare before the snow scrunches under your boots as you close the distance and engulf him in a big hug.

you stay like that for barely even a minute when your body starts to stiffen and your gut starts threatening to hurl out its contents at realization that you’re actually holding each other in your arms.

“okay, dweeb, let me go.” taehyung announces, you bet his hand’s twitching to shove your face away from his chest but he’s nice enough to wait until you release your hold and step back.

“yeah okay, good talk,” you dust whatever taehyung gave you off your shoulders.

x

taglist.  @aretha170​ @scalubera​ @ambersaesthetics​ @heyjiminnie​ @hyuck-me​ @fanfuckingfic​ @fangurl-ontgeside​ @bri-mal @waves-and-woods​ @rjsmochii​

[letterboxd]

Love Thy Neighbor.

With her nineteenth-century American romance, The World to Come—starring Katherine Waterston and Vanessa Kirby—screening now, director Mona Fastvold talks to Ella Kemp about the need to create images, striving for ASMR storytelling, and just how much we owe Terrence Malick.

“We’ve seen a lot of movies during this time period in America about what the husbands were out doing… but they had wives who are at home, living their completely separate lives. What were they up to?” —Mona Fastvold

In the American Northeast in the nineteenth century, life for farmers’ wives is physical, lonely, subject to both the extremes of weather and their husbands’ moods. When Abigail (Katherine Waterston) and Tallie (Vanessa Kirby) become neighbors in The World To Come, their lives become infinitely more bearable.

What unfolds is a careful study of the ways affection and understanding can bloom in the most unlikely places. Based on Jim Shepard’s short story of the same name, Mona Fastvold’s desperately romantic film starts where Abigail’s diary also begins: with a new year, and new neighbors. Through lyrical voice-over and closely drawn scenes, Abigail tells of how, in the wake of unimaginable loss, her life is cracked wide open by the arrival of effervescent, free-spirited Tallie. She speaks of grief and exhaustion, but also of astonishment and joy.

Katherine Waterston as Abigail and Vanessa Kirby as Tallie in ‘The World to Come’. / Photo by Vlad Cioplea

It’s a story felt through whispers as much as kisses, framed by the blustery winds of the East-Coast frontier—and by the spectre of their husbands (Casey Affleck as the downcast Dyer, Christopher Abbott as the jealous, disturbing Finney) finding out about their new love. Fastvold gives each character just enough attention to let the relationships that matter most rise up all on their own. She does so with words, poetry that somehow feels alive, and with music—specifically, a stunningly passionate clarinet soundtrack.

The World to Come won the Queer Lion at Venice last August (where it miraculously had an in-person premiere), and won many more hearts at Sundance in January. It’s Fastvold’s second film as director, after 2014’s The Sleepwalker, which also starred Christopher Abbott, and was co-written by Fastvold’s partner (and Vox Lux director) Brady Corbet.

What did you feel when reading Jim’s story for the first time? Mona Fastvold: It was a home I wanted to move into. It was this feeling of thinking, ‘This belongs in my universe, and I belong in this universe.’ And I all of a sudden had a few images that I felt a very strong need to create. The first thing that I felt really compelled to do was creating this physical expression of joy after the first kiss. I had this image of Katherine in this wide shot, completely open and just exposed. And I was really compelled to shoot her in the snow by the grave as well.

I also wanted to frame her being tied to the house with a rope, working her way through the snowstorm. There was a lot of amazing text and maybe fewer images in the script, because it’s written by these two really wonderful writers and authors of novels, not so much screenplays. So it’s not a very technical screenplay, and there were a lot of things left to me to work out, which I enjoyed. But the foundation was this really good text.

Mona Fastvold on the set of ‘The World to Come’. / Photo by Toni Salabasev

The text is so striking, in the way it’s so verbose but never feels stiff. How did you keep the words intact while bringing these emotions to life? I cast some really good actors, so that helps! Then when you’re working with this kind of text, it’s not really a text that you can improvise or play around as much, you really just need to honor it. For me it’s really about finding the movement that will support the beats of the text. I like the edit to be motivated by a gesture, something that says, “I want you to look at this”. I’m trying to make the rhythm more exciting. Ping-ponging back and forth is less exciting to me.

When rehearsing, we’d create movement either physically, or find changes through long pauses already in the text, and then upon finding those organic beats I’d figure out with my DP how we can stay in one take for as long as possible, until we find that moment which motivates a change. I never like there to be a camera movement just for there to be something cool visually. And there’s all this subtext in the text, all these messages Abigail and Tallie are trying to send to each other. When are you being direct? When are you being understood? When are you not?

Particularly in recent years, we’ve been fortunate to have a number of films that reframe period pieces about forbidden lesbian romances. Why do you think we keep coming back to this kind of story? A lot of people feel compelled to say these stories have always been there, and to claim that part of history. It’s not modern, it’s not a new thing, but it’s just that these stories have not been told much. Especially a love story that takes place among farmers. We know a little bit about upper-class stories from some literature, but not that much from that time period. So part of the appeal for me was to say: this is a part of history. Even though it’s not a story about Napoleon, this story about these two quiet, introverted women is still worth exploring. And we’ve seen a lot of movies during this time period in America about what the husbands were out doing. I’ve grown up watching these movies, but they had wives who are at home, living their completely separate lives. What were they up to?

Finney (Christopher Abbott) reads Tallie’s mail. / Photo by Vlad Cioplea

You mention the husbands—I felt watching this film that it was set in a very different world to the likes of Portrait of a Lady on Fire, which a lot of people loved precisely because of how few men were in the film. But here the husbands play a really important part within the story about these two women, helping to convey their frustration and limitations, without taking over. All characters in a story deserve equal counts of love and attention from the writers, directors and actors. It was incredibly important to portray the men with as much nuance as Abigail and Tallie. It makes for a more interesting story for them, that their relationships with their partners are complex—they’re not just these male archetypes who are terrible and awful. Dyer was an interesting character, in that he’s striving to understand even though he doesn’t quite. And he had different ambitions as well, but this is the situation he’s in, and he’s chosen a practical partner who he respects, and I guess loves and cares for. But they’re running a farm together, they’re business partners as well and depend on each other for survival. When he says “I’ll die without you” it’s quite literal, in a way. I wanted to break these characters open and make them more difficult to deal with, for themselves and for the women as well.

Your picture includes a beautiful, and really unexpected score by Daniel Blumberg—particularly in the use of the clarinet, which feels like its own kind of narrative. Can you talk me through the process of weaving that into the story? I brought in Daniel even when I was developing the script and working on casting early on. I kept listening to ‘Three Pieces for Solo Clarinet’ by Igor Stravinsky, and somehow the instrument felt really connected to Katherine’s voice-over. It was important that the voice-over was not slammed on top at the end. It’s there, I hope, to have a bit of an ASMR effect where you feel it draws you really close to Abigail in a hypnotic way. That you feel like you get this intimate experience of that character by having access to her life even if it doesn’t explain things too much.

So we wanted to have the score speaking to the voice-over, which we recorded long before we started shooting as well. We would play it on set and Daniel would come in and play music there. So constantly being in dialogue between the text being read and the music being played was an important part of the process.

It’s time for some Life in Film questions. What is your favorite ‘forbidden love’ story? A film I really love, which inspired The World to Come, is Olivia. It’s from 1951 and it’s directed by Jacqueline Audry, and it was one of the first lesbian on-screen kisses ever captured. It’s a great movie directed by a female director when that wasn’t so much of a thing. It was an important trailblazer for this film.

Marie-Claire Olivia and Simone Simon in Jacqueline Audry’s ‘Olivia’ (1951).

What’s your favourite “Dear Diary” movie, the one that best uses a confessional voice-over? Terrence Malick pretty much cornered that market with some beautiful, beautiful attempts at that. We definitely have to pay our respects! Particularly Days of Heaven is pretty amazing. The voice-over work there is extraordinary.

What is your go-to comfort movie? It’s funny because I was asked that a while ago and normally I would just be like, “Anything Nancy Meyers makes is just so lovely”. She makes these films that are just like candy. But during the pandemic, it’s just too hard to watch these cozy movies, because it just makes you feel depressed. So right now, the film I’ve watched the most in my lifetime is Eyes Wide Shut. I also find it to be a Christmas movie… If it’s on anywhere, I’ll always leave it on, or just watch a little piece of it.

What should Letterboxd members watch after The World to Come? First of all they should watch Olivia if they haven’t seen it, and then the other day I watched Martin Eden—it’s an incredible movie. So beautifully made.

What is the one film that first made you want to be a filmmaker? I grew up watching a lot of movies. My family are cinephiles and I’ve always loved films. I grew up on a steady diet of Ingmar Bergman’s films during my teenage years, and Tarkovsky too. Seeing those films made a really big impression me. But what really inspired me in many ways was seeing Claire Denis’ films. The way she approaches storytelling is so intuitive. It’s so exciting. That resonated with me, and later on I recognized some of that in Lucrecia Martel as well. I just love how she handles time and logic and character.

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‘The World to Come’ is currently in select US theaters, and will be available on demand from March 2, via Bleecker Street.

[mousieta]

Review: Lovely Writer

Country: Thailand Date Aired: 2021 Watched on: Dailymotion / Youtube

Lovely writer is a cute little Thai Boy’s Love (BL) romcom. I am usually pretty picky about romcoms as I have very specific tastes and wants from them. I am also pretty picky when it comes to BL as they have a tendency to come with a host of tropes I adamantly dislike.

However, there was a level of tongue-in-cheek self-awareness in the first couple of episodes and the premise was just the right side of ridiculous that I let myself be drawn in. The basic premise is that Gene is an author who wants to write epic fantasy stories but has, unfortunately, been pigeonholed by his success into writing BL stories. He is so popular a BL writer that one of his works has been picked up for a TV show adaptation. This necessitates being on set when Nubsib - a fresh faced new actor - is cast in a leading role.

Shenanigans obviously ensue (plot points signaling themselves from miles away) and we wind up with a delightful forced cohabitation scenario custom made for our two leads to fall in love. The chemistry between the leads is off the charts and the show indulges itself in putting them in as many sexually charged situations as humanly possible. This, I completely understand and appreciate.

As a writer, I definitely identified with Gene’s struggles. As an avid drama watcher I enjoyed having a secondary romance to root for in the adorable Tify and Tum. As a fangirl I definitely appreciated the gratuitous skinship and kissing scenes (so many *fans self*). But as a queer person, I was surprised and deeply appreciated the depth given to the queer narrative and queer characters.

Lovely Writer is at its best when at its most didactic. The self-awareness that first pulled at me was the show speaking from within its own industry to call out the toxicity that is present within its own genre, which was satisfying. One problem I have with BL dramas is that they often feel more like fantasies of queer men created by straight women for straight women. Which, I want to be clear about, I have absolutely no problem with. I think there is value in those stories. However, they are not stories I am interested in seeing.

So while not only taking pains to call out common BL toxicities played out on screen, Lovely Writer also earns a soft spot in my hear for the depth and breadth they rendered compassionately for their queer characters. We don’t have just one queer pairing in a sea of straight characters. We have a variety different queer characters of different ages and sexualities and genders. This variety is good because it not only reflects the community that many queer people navigate, but it relieves the main queer characters from carrying solely the weight of the queer experience. Our characters are not obligated into perfection by the weight of representation they carry.

And so, we get to see a pansexual woman, and a gender nonconforming man wrestle with the way they can fit into a society with well defined expectations for them. We get older gays working through a society that has reshaped itself over the course of their lifetime and the impact that has on who they are nowddmv. We get our gay villain but also our gay heroes.

The plot is fairly straight forward. The characters are written with just enough depth to convey the story’s message and the actors infused them with more than enough charm to make them engaging and memorable. The villain plot line is frustratingly underdeveloped which had me wishing they’d just cut it out completely. It added nothing but ultimately empty screen time and the general conflict of societal expectations and personal flaws in our leads were enough to carry the whole show.

Directing wise, the show finally felt like it hit on the right execution for its self-aware tone too late (as in, the very last episode). That said, I loved live-watching. The entire experience of waiting week to week for my next Lovely Writer treat brought me some much needed brightness. This show definitely won a special place in my heart for all the things it did so well.

[malethirsty]

Sex Island Season 1: Joe Manganiello

Summary: First Impressions are always important & Joe Manganiello fucking you in front of everyone is a first impression that will never be forgotten.

Warnings: M/M smut, Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Majorca, Spain:

A first day of meeting new people for a big opportunity was something that would make anyone nervous, however meeting over forty men on a reality television show where the aim was to fuck them all? That would make anyone sweat buckets, so naturally you were nervous.

The crew had waited for you to get breakfast down before whisking you away from your lock down position up to their top secret Villa, tucked away behind a veil of protection. You & the escort walked to the door, with The villa took up a lot of space, with a massive blue covered lounge, central heating, a sauna & an outdoor heating private room to name a few spots, you took a seat in the lounge room. Eventually instructions flashed upon the TV in the lounge

Y/N:

Welcome to Sex Island! Over the next two months, this villa will act as your home, it will also house many other men that you will eventually meet. Your focus is simple: Fuck Them All. All these men are horny & desperate for some good loving & you are the one to provide it. At the end of the two months, you will have a choice: Sex or Money. If you stay with the men, it’s up to you to keep it together on the outside, if you pick money, everyone walks away with $500,000 but the open relationship ends. You are about to be tested in every possible way, so strap on & enjoy yourself in this once in a lifetime experience. Good luck, xoxo

—

As you settled in, the men came trickling in, Actors, Wrestlers, Authors, Businessmen & even a Porn Star! The men started to congregate round you, making ice breakers & getting used to their new surroundings when another set of instructions appeared on screen

Men:

Welcome to Sex Island! The premise has been explained to you in detail, however there is something you need to know. The temperature is cold, so you’ll have to band together for heat & also, it won’t be a case of clothing providing said heat. In this game, you will be naked. All of you. There is a hatch for clothing to be placed in located in the lounge room, you will receive the clothing back at the end of the game, but for now, strip! xoxo

Everyone took head & started to strip. Some took their time with it, some put on a show whilst some just straight up ripped their garments clean off. The only similarities all the men had was that they made sure to stare at you whilst they did it, they were all hungry & luckily for them, you were the main course.

—

Eventually a lot of men dispersed to look around The Villa, leaving you in the lounge room with Joe Manganiello, known for playing Alcide Herveaux. “Well hello stranger” he said, winking at you, “Hey, I’m Y/N” “Joe, Joe Manganiello” “Yes I know who you are, I mean, which hot blooded man doesn’t?” Joe chuckled at you, sitting down next to you “Quite an experience isn’t it? I’m used to being naked on TV quite a lot, but this is different” you got to talking about your lives for a bit. “So, given your such a” he looked down at your hard cock “big fan. What is your favorite scene of mine?” You had a lot of options to go for but a particular scene stood out “When you fucked Debbie on True Blood” Joe looked surprised, “You probably get Magic Mike scenes, right?” “Yeah, even when I pounded Rikki but why that scene?” “Well it’s straight to the point, I loved the grunts and moans you gave, your verbal & that spin you did whilst you fucked her, perfect.”

You saw Joe’s cock growing hard at your words, he moved over to you, grabbed your head in his hands & shoved you down in between his legs “You have such a pretty mouth on you, let’s see if you can match it around my cock” eager to please him, you started to suck his dick. “Fuck yeah, that’s it Y/N, set a nice pace, up and down, take as much as you want, don’t make yourself gag.” Joe eventually threaded his fingers in your hair, guiding you. You swiped your tongue across his tip, causing him throw his head back “Oh Shit Y/N! You’re doing so well.” Pleased with your work, you decided to go one step further, pulling off his cock, you started sucking his balls instead. “Oh Jesus Fuck!” Joe groaned throwing his head back again, eventually his voice gave way to harsh snarls.

After a good while, he pulled you off & kissed you “Ready to have the first fuck of the season?” Joe asked “Hell yeah!” You responded, getting on top of Joe and riding his cock. It was incredibly painful as he stretched you out, however knowing your pain, Joe hugged you tight, whispering in your ear “It’ll be ok, go slowly down”, eventually you reached the bottom & kissed Joe. “Now set a pace, something that will suit us both” you listened to his advice & quickly found a pace that you both could get to grips with, later increasing it as the fuck grew stronger. “Oh fuck yeah Y/N!, your taking my cock so good!” he shoved deep causing you to throw your head back so that you caught a glimpse of what was behind you: A bunch of men with their hands on their cocks, stroking as they watched you & Joe fuck.

As their discovery was now apparent, the room quickly filled with ‘Yeah’s’ ‘Fuck’s’ & ‘Take that cock bitch’s’. You decided to give them a show & decided some role play would do the trick “OH YEAH! FUCK ME PACKMASTER!” Joe grinned responding immediately “OH FUCK YEAH! Only the best werebitches get to go to the front of the pack & take their Packmaster’s cock. Keep going slut, you’re doing so well” you started to run your hands down Joe’s torso, running your hands over his abs matching the pace of his fuck.

Joe moaned our loud, struggling to breathe, the fuck having taken a lot out of him “Baby hold on” you locked eyes with him, seeing his utterly blissed out face “I’m gonna cum soon, I guess you want me to shoot my load on your chest” you grabbed his arms & held him down, to Joe’s surprise “No, I want you to shoot in me.” Joe’s blissed out face became even more elated as he grabbed your back with his left hand as he continued to fuck you, his right hand wanking your cock matching his pace “Shoot your load for me Y/N”. You let out a scream as you shot your load over his torso. “Fuck yeah! You’re amazing. Shit! I’m about to cum, take me, take it all! OH FUCK!” Joe threw his head back & howled, coming deep in your ass. 

You both fell back onto the lounge, covered in sweat “Fuck babe” Joe groaned “You’re so good.” He looked down at your shot load “I don’t know how you did it, but you made me look more beautiful than before” you laughed, looking at the men whom had cum from watching you & Joe and thought that if the rest of the cast was as good as Joe, this would be amazing.

[fieryanmitsu]

If Only | A3! (one-sided Itaru/Izumi, Sakyo/Izumi)

This story plot suddenly just cannonballed into my head while I was listening to Shintarou Asanuma’s cover of “So Close” from Disney’s Enchanted. For those of you who don’t know, he is Itaru’s Japanese voice actor! I really do love AsaShin’s singing voice, and he seriously just knocks it out of the ballpark with this song. I’m just heartbroken forever now, and the lyrics made me cry, so here I am with an angsty story that no one asked for, hahaha!

Because of the way I envisioned this story, it felt most right if I wrote it in present tense. However, this style of writing is definitely something out of my comfort zone and I can’t remember the last time I tried writing in the present tense. So, I’ll apologize in advance if I make your eyes bleed with my terrible grammar and any unintentional switching to the past tense (especially since I don’t write with a beta)!!

IF ONLY

CHARACTERS: Itaru Chigasaki, Izumi Tachibana, Sakyo Furuichi

PAIRINGS: unrequited Itaru/Izumi, Sakyo/Izumi

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

Itaru finds himself in an unfamiliar situation: on the sidelines of a blaring dance floor. He has attended many weddings in his lifetime – he was at that age, after all, as his parents often remind him – but, he can count on one hand how many wedding after-parties he has bothered to join. Actually, he didn’t even need one whole hand. One experience was enough for him to have his fill of plastering on a fake face and dealing with obnoxious drunk people – especially drunk women trying to get into his bed. Not to mention, he would lose out on his precious free time.

However, there was no way he could get out of this particular after-party. After all, it is the Mankai Company-exclusive after-party for Izumi and Sakyo’s wedding. Or was it the after-after-party? Did the impromptu karaoke session thrown together by Banri and Tenma count as an after-party? Regardless, much to Itaru’s misery, skipping out on the current celebrations is not an option – according to Tsuzuru, anyway.

Nibbling half-heartedly on one of the finger sandwiches that Omi had prepared, Itaru lounges casually at one of the cocktail tables. A beautiful bouquet of flowers sits upon the pristine tablecloth – lovingly hand made by Tsumugi, of course – but his eyes spare them no glance. Instead, his gaze is glued on Izumi’s slender figure as she sways her hips on the dance floor, surrounded by a gaggle of the younger Mankai Company members. They cheer her on as she clutches the skirt of her floor-length white dress, whirling around with abandon. Her smile flashes brighter than the tacky disco ball suspended from the ceiling, and Itaru is unable to look away.

Suddenly, the dance music fades out and the mood in the ballroom completely changes as the DJ – Sakoda, because his services are free – starts playing a mellower tune.

Picking up his glass, Itaru throws back the rest of his drink, feeling the alcohol burn a hot trail down his throat. There was no way he was going to get through this evening sober. He clunks down the empty glass and vaguely registers Sakoda loudly announcing that it was about time that the boss gets his butt on the dance floor already.

The young salaryman absentmindedly shoves another sandwich into his mouth as he watches Sakyo being pulled from his seat at a nearby table and shoved into the centre of the rented hall by Taichi and Misumi. The bespectacled man stumbles as he nearly trips on one of the table legs, and Izumi catches him in her arms as the two young men laugh rather than help.

After Sakyo regains his footing, the newlywed couple wrap their arms around each other to the cheers of the audience and they begin swaying to the tune of a slow, romantic song. The usual hard expression on Sakyo’s face softens as he looks down lovingly at his bride, and the smile that Izumi returns is blinding.

Itaru tears his eyes away. He doesn’t know why he still feels bothered. Did he not literally witness those lovey-dovey faces all day as they had been exchanging vows, giving their speeches at the reception, and cutting the wedding cake? Maybe the alcohol was exacerbating it, but the remaining sandwich in his mouth suddenly tastes like sand and he feels sick to his stomach. He wants to run away, wants to get away from the awful feelings wrapping their fingers around his chest and squeezing his heart painfully.

But, as usual, he doesn’t do anything. Just like the countless other instances in the past years. How many times had the voice in his head shut him down when he wanted to reach out to her, only to freeze and pull away?

‘Why bother – you’re not good enough, anyway,’ the voice lamented.

‘You’re just useless gamer trash – you’ll never be able to give her what she deserves,’ the voice sneered.

‘Why compete with him – he’s better than you in every way,’ the voice demanded.

He has long lost count.

Itaru is drawn out of his thoughts by loud whooping and wolf whistles. Turning his head to the source of the attention, he sees Azuma confidently step onto the dance floor while flicking his ponytail over his shoulder. Moments later, the long-haired man gracefully steals Izumi away from her groom with a wink. Even though the lighting in the room is dim, Itaru can just make out Sakyo rolling his eyes as he steps aside, but not without a good-natured smirk on his lips.

Izumi giggles with delight as Azuma leads her across the dance floor. Before long, the professional cuddler’s actions start a chain reaction. Kazunari swoops in shortly after with a cheeky grin to enjoy his turn with Izumi before he twirls her away to – a very drunk, Itaru notes – Tasuku. The director is nearly crushed by his burly body when he fails to keep his feet under him, but Citron rescues her and begins spinning her around the dance floor. Izumi’s laughter rings in Itaru’s ears as she continues to waltz through a succession of more Mankai Company men.

And, then, suddenly, Izumi is standing in front of him, and her hand is on his wrist.

“Dance with me, Itaru,” she requests – no, commands – and tugs lightly on his arm with a big, innocent smile and flushed cheeks.

In any other situation, his rejection would be instantaneous. He doesn’t dance – can’t dance. Izumi knows this, too, considering the countless number of times he has trampled on her toes during practices.He knows he should turn her down, because nothing good can come of this.

Maybe, he could use Masumi as an excuse – the young man was slumped over on one of the tables, dead to the world. He could say that he was taking Masumi home to rest (and mope) in his bed instead. But, something about Izumi always makes his brain short-circuit and he can’t bring himself to say ‘no’.

Still in a daze, he lets her pull him onto the dance floor. It’s not until he feels one of her hands settle on his shoulder and her other hand clasp around his own, that it really hits him.

An intense surge of emotions wrenches through his gut and he wants to throw up. His mind is a tornado of competing, conflicting thoughts, threatening to rip him apart from the inside. He feels a telltale prickling behind his eyes and he bites down so hard on the inside of his cheek that he can taste blood.

Hide it, he screams at himself. SMILE, damn it.

So, he does. Except, it’s not the smile he means to give – the princely, aloof smile that deflects everything. Instead, he gives Izumi a smile he has hidden for years. The one that he only permits himself to give her in his dreams.

Itaru wants to kick himself – wants to stab his own traitorous heart – because, in his moment of weakness, he is succumbing to the escapist habit he has depended on since childhood. However, this time, instead of imagining himself as Lancelot, as he often did in his youth, he imagines that he is… hers. Imagines that this is their dance. Imagines that he is the one that said ‘I do’ at the altar. Imagines that he can make this beautiful woman, in her pure white dress, happy – for it was this woman that gave him a place to belong and he can’t imagine being anywhere else but by her side.

And, in that moment, Itaru is the happiest he has ever been and he wishes he could keep holding her hand forever. Maybe, this moment could have been real–

If only he didn’t always just decide to give up, then maybe he could have said ‘I’m serious’ instead of ‘I’m just joking.’

If only he was brave enough, then maybe he could have returned her embrace, instead of wrenching himself away.

If only he could hate himself less, then maybe he could have told her: ‘Choose me.’

If only this dream would never end.

If only–

But, he hears the melody beginning to slow down…

Not yet.

… and the last notes of the song fade away.

Please.

Then, their feet come to a halt, and Itaru wakes up.

“Thanks, Itaru! You’ve made me so happy!” she exclaims with a smile that burns its image into his eyes.

And, despite the irrational part of his mind screaming at him to keep hold of her hand, he just gives her a smile – a real one, because he loves her – and gently plants a kiss to the back of her hand before he lets her go.

It took me a long time and many late nights of fiddling around before I was satisfied with this, so hopefully my words got through and you were all able to the fruits of my labour!

I would also highly recommend you all to take a listen to AsaShin’s cover of “So Close” if you can (it’s from the Disney Koe no Ouji-sama Voice Stars Dream Selection II album). There is also the original Japanese version on YouTube with subtitles last I checked as well. Ultimately, this story was a culmination of my feelings and thoughts as I listened to that song.

Anyway, thank you again for reading and feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts or any constructive criticism!! If you enjoyed, please reblog~

-Anmitsu

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

Thanks so much for the support of this fic! It made me happy to know so many of you wanted it to continue. I hope you enjoy what’s to come! 

masterlist - AO3

Chapter Three - Take a Chance, Take a Chance, Chance

I knew what I needed to do, I was just dragging my feet. The only person who could probably convince Jamie to take this role was me. But I was also a bit worried that I was the last person he wanted to see. The last time we’d spoken, he seemed angry that I was trying to talk to him. I could understand the position he was in, and likely why he was about to turn down the role. But he couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let him. 

I had to act quickly. It wasn’t like we had forever. Production would need to begin eventually and we needed to have our lead. Marilyn and John were going through the list of other actors who had auditioned, but we all knew we didn’t want them. We wanted Jamie. I wanted Jamie. John was never wrong with his instincts, but I hoped that when I talked to Jamie alone, he’d tell me that he was taking the part. 

Swallowing harshly, I looked up at the building in front of me. Taking all the courage I had, I ran forward to catch the door as a delivery man left. I followed the familiar path to his door. It was painfully obvious to me how different my situation was now than it was the last time I was here. Shaking my head, I tried to dispel the images of him pushing me against the wall and kissing me senseless in the very stairwell I was climbing. Before I got too caught up in memories, I made myself keep walking. There was a reason I was here, after all, and it wasn’t to vividly remember night we’d spent together. I did that enough on my own. 

I must have stood in front of his door for a full minute before I finally knocked. My heart hammered away in my chest as I waited for him to answer. One of his neighbors walked past me. I bounced on the balls of my feet, willing him to be home. The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door almost made me lean closer to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. 

The door swung open and he stood before me. I flashed him a strained smile. His eyes widened in shock as he stared back at me. “Claire,” he said, “what the hell are ye doing here?” 

“I needed to talk to you.” 

He schooled his face, not letting his emotions show anymore. “What about?” 

“You can’t turn down this role, Jamie,” I told him, not wanting to beat around the bush. 

Jamie sighed, running a hand down his face. “Seriously? That’s why ye came by here?” 

“Yes! Look, we saw plenty of men for this role and I promise you that you are the only man we wanted,” I told him. I was being more open than I ever had been with an actor before. “Jamie, you are perfect for this role. And not just because you were the only person who actually sounded Scottish. You have to take it!” 

“No, I dinna have to do anything.” 

I groaned. “You auditioned for it. Why do you suddenly want to turn it down?” 

“Because of you,” he answered in no uncertain terms. 

I recoiled a bit, taking a step back. My arms crossed in front of me defensively. “Because of me?” I could hear how small my voice sounded and I hated it. This wasn’t me. I never groveled or begged people to do anything. He was bringing out a terrible side of me. 

He at least had the decency to look a bit guilty for what he said. “Aye. I’m sorry, but I canna take it. I didn’t want to turn it down immediately. I suppose I wanted to be able to change my mind, but I canna. I canna take the role.” 

“Can you tell me why?” I asked. “Other than because of me.” 

Jamie’s face fell. “Ye have to know how much I actually want the role -”

“Then, take it!” I cried. 

“I canna. I’ll no’ let anyone accuse me of sleeping my way to a role.” And there it was. My mouth fell open at his statement. “I may no’ have much of a career, but I do have dignity.” 

“It’s not like anyone even knows,” I reminded him. “Besides, you didn’t even know who I was. You weren’t doing that.” 

“No, I wasna. But if anyone knew the truth, all they’d be able to see is that I slept wi’ ye one night, auditioned for yer play the next day, and then was given the role,” Jamie pointed out. “I want the role, but no’ that badly.” 

“No one knows,” I repeated. I was getting desperate.

“I’ll no’ risk it,” he maintained. His eyes dropped from mine. “I appreciate that ye thought I was good enough. But I can’t.” 

“Please think about it,” I urged. “This could be the role of a lifetime.” 

“Well, then congratulations to yer second choice,” Jamie said, effectively taking the argument out of me. “Goodbye, Claire.” 

I sputtered, trying to get one last word in, but the door shut in my face. My hands laid over my face as I tried to fight off my anger and disappointment. The worst part about it all was that he didn’t mince words. It was clearer than ever that his reason to not take it was me. Even more than wanting to have the perfect cast, I wanted to defend myself and tell him all the reasons he was wrong. 

Except that, ultimately, I respected his decision. As I descended the stairs, feeling low, I understood why he stood his ground. I’d known a good amount of actors in my life, and I’m not sure that any of them would have the integrity to actually turn it down. And that’s not even addressing the ones that would have truly slept with the director to get the part. 

I wanted a win, but I wasn’t getting it. More than that, I wanted to change the way he looked at me. I’d seen plenty of different gazes from him the night we’d spent together. But now, it was nothing but a cold shadow in comparison. 

My office was dark, save a low lamp in the corner. I was wallowing in the misery of my failed attempt. John and Marilyn hadn’t the faintest idea that I was even going to try to sway him. That was probably for the best, since I’d failed. Elbows propped on the desk, my head was in my hands as I tried to figure out my next step. John walked in without knocking. He sat down on the couch in my office. Both of us looked a bit off. 

“What’s up with you?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Nothing. We’re just getting close to production.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“I got a few more confirmations today,” he told me. 

“But not the one you’re wanting.” 

“It’s the lead role,” John sighed. “If we fuck that up, our play is dead on opening night.” 

“I know.” 

“And the thing that makes me the maddest is that we didn’t do anything wrong!” John continued. 

That you know of, I thought to myself. 

“What do you think we can do?” he asked. “We all agreed that he’s the best. Surely the three of us can figure out a way to convince him. We’re all experienced.” 

I nodded, trying to think of some comfort to offer John. I was coming up dry. “Look, we’re casting minor roles next week. By the end of next week, we have to have our cast list set. We’ll give him til then and hopefully he’ll come around.” 

John laid his head back against the couch. “Okay. I guess that’s all we can do. But after that, we’ll have to act fast.” 

“We will, if necessary,” I promised him. 

But as John walked from my office, I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. I was in full brainstorming mode the rest of the day and my entire evening at home. It was a lot harder to come up with ideas when I knew what the problem actually was. How could I solve it, short of traveling back in time and not sleeping with him? But then again, I wasn’t sure I would really want to do that, even for the sake of the show. 

For the next few days, I sat through auditions, trying to be as present as possible. This show was supposed to be my passion project but I was failing. Somehow, my thoughts were only ever on Jamie. What did he think of me? Would I ever see him again? What were the chances he’d change his mind and accept? Had he actually liked me before my true identity had been revealed? Could something more have happened if he’d never auditioned for my show? 

The ridiculous amount of “what ifs” and “how comes” kept me incredibly distracted at a time when I needed to be focused. I’d gone out the night I met him because I’d needed a break. But now, I needed one again for a very different reason. I knew first hand how much dedication the role of director took. And that was how I knew I was blowing it spectacularly. 

All I wanted to be able to do was figure out a way to convince Jamie to take the role. Perhaps that would put a smile on my face. I figured it would definitely put a smile on John’s face. I was at a loss, though. 

It took me two more days of spending all my time up in my head before I finally realized that the answer was in front of me all along. 

I poured myself a stiff glass of whisky and sat down on my couch. Glancing over at the clock, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too late. I took a sip to give myself some courage, and then I dialed his number. 

The line rang twice before he answered. “Hello?” he answered. 

“Jamie, it’s Claire.” 

He was silent for a long moment. “How did ye get this number? I dinna recall giving it to ye. Or ye asking me for it, for that matter.” For the first time, I wondered if he was bitter about more than the situation with the play. It had been a mere accident that I’d run out without giving him my number or getting his. As I’d left his apartment that morning, I was more than open to seeing him again. I wondered if he’d ever believe that with everything else that had happened. 

“It might not be the most ethical thing, but I pulled it off your audition form,” I informed him. “We need to talk.” 

Jamie sighed. “No, we dinna.” 

“Yes, we do. Jamie, this role is yours. You are perfect for it and I meant what I said when I told you it could be the role of a lifetime.” 

“I already told ye no once.” 

“You haven’t turned it down though,” I retorted. “Why is that?” 

He took a deep breath. “Because I ken exactly how big a role this is and it’s killing me to turn it down.” 

“Then don’t.” 

“Claire —” 

“I have a new offer for you.” I talked over him. 

“Oh?” 

I took another sip, needing more liquid courage. “If you take the role…” I trailed off, afraid to actually make my offer. “If you take the role, I will step down as director.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’ll step down if you take the role. That way, no one will be able to accuse you of sleeping with the director, because you wouldn’t have.” I tilted my head, thinking. “Well, theoretically. I don’t know your whole history.” 

Jamie was silent again. It was frying my nerves. “Why would ye do this?” His voice was softer than all our interactions since the truth came out. It gave me hope.

“I remembered what you told me the night we met,” I said, my voice growing softer, too. “You said you often led your family to believe that you were more successful than you were. Jamie, this could truly be your big break and you deserve to have it. You have more bloody dignity and self-preservation than most people I know. It’s time for the world to see how great you are. But that can’t happen if you turn down the role.” I stopped to take a breath. “I heard you loud and clear. Your problem wasn’t with the role, but with me. So, if I’m out of the picture, it’s perfect. And this show needs you.” 

“What about ye?” 

“Not to sound too much like a braggart, but if I step down as director, I’m fairly certain I could find another show rather quickly,” I told him. 

I could hear him breathing on the other end. “Claire, this is —”

“Just think it over,” I advised. “You have until Friday to make a decision. We have to have our cast list finalized by then.” 

“Alright,” he agreed. 

“Okay. Well, one way or the other, I’ll talk to you soon.” I said goodbye and ended the call. The idea of calling him and making such an offer had seemed like the hardest part. But I was wrong. 

Waiting was going to be the hardest part. 

Next chapter

[youcanhavemybuckanyday]

Answer all of them. 1-170. have fun.

HELL YES LETS GOOOOOOOO

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? 

5′2″. Exactly how tall I am now. I like being short.

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

I’ve always wanted a ferret. They can weed out people for me. If a person says “Ew, it’s a rat” then they ain’t worth my time.

 3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? 

Whatever’s on sale. Preferably baggy and comfortable

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? 

Always has been and always will be the Nancy Drew computer games. I’m obsessed. There are 32 games (we don’t talk about number 33), and I’ve played each one dozens of times.

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: 

My laptop, my dog, my tumblr account

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? 

Warning: Prone to spontaneous breakdowns, both physically and mentally.

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]? 

Honest opinion on @Elizard-Hamilton, the person who sent this ask: They’re super sweet and kind, and probably the first reciprocal tumblr friendship I’ve ever had.

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] 

Don’t know what that is, too drunk to figure it out right now.

9: Are you ticklish? 

God yes. But I retaliate. If you tickle me, you will die.

10: Are you allergic to anything? 

No, that’s the one medical thing that I don’t have.

11: What’s your sexuality? 

Hetero-Demi Sexual. So I like men, but I’m only sexually attracted to them if we’ve been close for a long time.

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? 

Cocoa, always. Specifically, Tim Hortons Hot Chocolate. Medium, 2 creams.

13: Are you a cat or dog person? 

Dog. Always.

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? 

I answered this one already, definitely merperson.

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? 

Nope.

16: How tall are you? 

See above.

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? 

I’d just add an L to my name. New name, pronounced the same.

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Right now, 126 lbs. But I should be 110. I just got off a medication that made me gain 40 pounds practically overnight. I went from 100 pounds to 140 pounds. I’m slowing losing the weight.

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? 

Not in the traditional sense, but I do believe there are things about the departed we don’t yet understand. Kind of like way back when they though lightning was a supernatural event, until they found a scientific explanation for it. I think there’s stuff we just haven’t discovered yet.

20: Do you like space or the ocean more? 

Ocean.

21: Are you religious? 

Nope, athiest.

22: Pet peeves? 

Idk, I can’t think of any right now.

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? 

Wtf I don’t know? Who cares? I’d rather be whatever koalas are. They sleep 22 hours a day.

24: Favorite constellation? 

The only one I can think of right now is big dipper. That makes it my favourite and also my least favourite constellation.

25: Favorite star? 

See question 24, but North Star.

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? 

I don’t know what that is? Do you mean like Barbie? I litterally watching Barbie Nutcracker right now, lol.

27: Any phobias or fears? 

Spiders.

28: Do you think global warming is real? 

Duh.

29: Do you believe in reincarnation? 

No.

30: Favorite movie? 

Does Hamilton count? If yes, that. If not, Knives Out. I’m a sucker for a good murder mystery.

31: Do you get scared easily? 

Yes.

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? 

Oh god. Idk. You’re going to make me do math on vacation. Lets see. 3 Dogs, 2 Cats, ungodly numbers of fish, 2 rats, 5 hermit crabs, 3 hamsters, probably others I can’t remember.

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] 

@elizard-hamilton 10/10. 5 stars. Thumbs up. Gold Star.

34: What is a color that calms you? 

Royal Purple. I used to have a bedroom where everything was royal purple. The walls, the furniture, the bedding, the accessories. Everything. It was a great time in my life, so the colour makes me think of good times.

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? 

I’d love to go to Belgium. My grandmother was born there, and we still have family over there that I’ve never met.

36: Where were you born? 

London Ontario

37: What is your eye color? 

Hazel

38: Introvert or extrovert? 

Introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? 

Not at all

40: Hugs or kisses? 

None of the above. I have Asperger's, I don’t like to be touched.

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? 

I’d love to see my BFF from high school again. Haven’t talked to her since we graduated. Rachel, if you’re out there, I miss you.

42: Who is someone you love deeply? 

My parents.

43: Any piercings you want? 

None.

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? 

Nope. I don’t have anything against them, they’re just not for me. If you have them, I won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing wrong with them.

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so? 

Nope. I’ve already got really shitty lungs (I have Cystic Fibrosis), I’d rather not make them worse than they already are.

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! 

Oh gosh, he’s cute, funny, talented, a great singer, a great writer, he wrote a hit broadway musical... oh, he doesn’t count? Then no, no one right now.

47: What is a sound you really hate? 

Styrofoam rubbing against more styrofoam.

48: A sound you really love? 

The notification sound tumblr makes when I get something in my inbox

49: Can you do a backflip? 

HA no.

50: Can you do the splits? 

HA HA no.

51: Favorite actor and/or actress? 

Do I even need to answer this? I’m going to anyway. It’s..... drumroll........ Danny Devito! Lol, no, it’s Lin Manuel-Miranda

52: Favorite movie? 

This is the same as question 30.

53: How are you feeling right now? 

Drunk. Next question.

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? 

Purple. I used to have purple hair. Then I got older and got a real job and I’m not allowed to die my hair anymore.

55: When did you feel happiest? 

At 16, with my purple hair and purple bedroom and my bff in like grade 11

56: Something that calms you down? 

Hamilton

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Asperger’s, Depression, situational anxiety.

58: What does your URL mean? 

Every time is Hamiltime. Because it’s always time for Hamilton.

59: What three words describe you the most? 

Bizarre, confrontational, idk. Is there a word that means unwilling to put up with anyone’s bullshit? Because if so, then that.

60: Do you believe in evolution? 

Yes. Evolution is a fact, it’s been proven. So this question should not say do you believe in evolution, it should say do you accept evolution.

61: What makes you unfollow a blog? 

If they start posting stuff i disagree with, or if they totally veer into a new fandom I’m not interested in. I’ve lost so many good blogs to kpop.

62: What makes you follow a blog? 

Idk, I like their stuff?

63: Favorite kind of person: 

Kind people.

64: Favorite animal(s): 

Pug.

65: Name three of your favorite blogs. 

I’m not going to start naming friends, cause I’ve got way more than three and I know I’m going to forget someone, so here’s 3 random blogs I enjoy: gmoringgnight, tinywhim, torsnavi

66: Favorite emoticon: 

I’m on my laptop, i don’t have emoticons right now, but probably the one where he’s crying laughing

67: Favorite meme: 

All of them. I love all the memes.

68: What is your MBTI personality type? 

I’m too drunk to remember right now, ask me tomorrow.

69: What is your star sign? 

Pisces

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? 

He cannot. He’s an idiot. But he can give you a high five, if that counts for something.

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? 

Leggings, T-Shirt, Hoodie. Whatever’s clean.

72: Post a selfie or two? 

No

73: Do you have platform shoes? 

No

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? 

I can solve a rubik’s cube

75: Can you do a front flip? 

LOL NO

76: Do you like birds? 

To look at, not to own or touch

77: Do you like to swim? 

Very much. In the water, it’s the one place my back doesn’t hurt.

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? 

Swimming. I don’t skate. I know, oh wow, a Canadian who can’t skate. Sue me.

79: Something you wish didn’t exist: 

Trump.

80: Some thing you wish did exist: 

Alex Clairmont-Diaz

81: Piercings you have? 

My ears are pierced.

82: Something you really enjoy doing: 

Reading

83: Favorite person to talk to: 

My mom

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? 

Amazing, finally a place I can be as weird as I want and it’s totally anonymous.

85: How many followers do you have? 

I have no idea.

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? 

HA no

87: Do your socks always match? 

Yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? 

When I was 14, they did a surgery where they put metal rods in my spine to keep it from growing crooked. My spine doesn’t bend at all. So I’ve never tried to touch my toes, but I’m going to go with no, I can’t.

89: What are your birthstones? 

I think Aquamarine? I don’t remember.

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? 

Koala. They sleep 22 hours a day.

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? 

I can’t think of any flowers right now beyond rose and tulip, and neither represent me. Is there a flower that’s really ugly? If so, that.

92: A store you hate? 

Gap. I despise that store with every escence of my being.

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? 

None. It tastes like manure.

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? 

Ooh, fly. No more wheelchair.

95: Do you like to wear camo? 

I don’t think i particularly like or dislike it. I just don’t wear it.

96: Winter or summer? 

SUMMER ALL THE TIME

97: How long can you hold your breath for? 

Not long at all. See explanation above, r.e. Cystic Fibrosis

98: Least favorite person? 

Trump

99: Someone you look up to: 

My mom

100: A store you love? 

Hot Topic. Yes, I’m basic like that. 

101: Favorite type of shoes 

Flats, cause I don’t have to attempt to bend over to put them on.

102: Where do you live? 

Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Yes, I’m serious.

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? 

Nope.

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? 

Wtf? Are people supposed to have a favourite mineral or gem?

105: Do you drink milk? 

No

106: Do you like bugs? 

No

107: Do you like spiders? 

NO

108: Something you get paranoid about? 

If I remembered to turn off my computer before I go to bed.

109: Can you draw: 

Nope

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? 

On a daily basis, people ask me why I use my scooter or my wheelchair. Every day. Not so much during the pandemic, but yeah.

111: A question you hate being asked? 

“When are you going to get a boyfriend?” “When are you going to settle down?” 

112: Ever been bitten by a spider? 

NOPE

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? 

Who doesn’t?

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? 

Cloudy, cause then I can stay indoors guilt-free

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: 

My dog. But he’s with my sister.

116: Favorite cloud type: 

???? Is this something I’m supposed to have an opinion on?????

117: What color do you wish the sky was? 

???? IDGAF ??????

118: Do you have freckles? 

No

119: Favorite thing about a person: 

Their laugh

120: Fruits or vegetables? 

Fruit

121: Something you want to do right now: 

Get another drink, but that’s probs not a great idea

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? 

Ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods? 

Sweet

124: Bright or dim lights? 

Dim

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? 

No

126: Something you hate about Tumblr: 

I can’t reblog ads. Some of those ads are really, REALLY funny.

127: Something you love about Tumblr: 

Completely anonymous. I could be anyone. For all you know, I’m actually Mike Pence. (I promise I’m not)

128: What do you think about the least? 

Idk? There’s probably lots of stuff I’ve never thought about at all

129: What would you want written on your tombstone? 

Nothing, but I want there to be a little machine on top that looks like a parking meter, and when you put money in it you get wifi for an hour.

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? 

Trump, most of the politicians in the states. I want to go to New York, and I can’t because y’all can’t get your shit together and kick this virus.

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

Yes, but only because I get yelled at if I don’t.

133: Computer or TV? 

Computer.

134: Do you like roller coasters? 

I used to. Then the back surgery and now I can’t anymore.

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? 

Motion sickness no, seasickness yes.

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? 

Lobed.

137: Do you believe in karma? 

I believe that what you do will eventually come back to bite you in the ass, but I don’t believe in some cosmic force that balances the scales.

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? 

0. Not going to elaborate.

139: What nicknames do you have/have had? 

None. My name has always been Adele. The few people who tried to give me nicknames got shot down real quick.

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? 

When I was little, yeah

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? 

Yes ma’am. For over a decade.

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? 

Both at different times.

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? 

Giving. I never know what to say when receiving.

144: What makes you angry 

A lot of things these days. Can’t think of anything specific. My sister, usually.

145: How many languages do you speak fluently? 

Two. I speak French and English.

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? 

Boys.

147: Are you androgynous? 

Nope.

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

149: Favorite thing about your personality: 

My “take no shit” attitude.

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. 

Lin Manuel Miranda, Renee Elise Goldsberry, anyone from West Wing

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? 

Revolutionary America

152: Do you like BuzzFeed? 

I’ve been known to partake.

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] 

Nope. I’m forever alone.

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? 

No. I have Asperger’s. No touching.

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? 

No.

156: What embarrasses you? 

When I need to ask for help for really simple things because of my wheelchair or other disabilities. I hate it.

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: 

The future, for reasons way too complex to write in a tumblr post.

158: Biggest lie you have ever told: 

I convinced half my second grade class I was related to Elton John once. That was fun. They believed it for like 3 months.

159: How many people are you following? 

Hundreds.

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? 

I don’t even know how I would find that out.

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? 

Right now, I have 12, but that’s because I’ve queued up the next 4 days HamiltonHungerGames. Usually, I have none. I don’t understand how people have drafts. When I feel like writing something on tumblr, I start a post, I end the post, I post it. I never use drafts

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? 

??? Again, I have no idea how to find that information.

163: Last time you cried and why: 

I honestly don’t remember.

164: Do you have long or short hair? 

Usually long, but right now short. My mom decided to give me a covid haircut, and she does not understand the meaning of “Just a trim”.

165: Longest your hair has ever been: 

Down to my butt. 

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? 

Dislike. I’m not going to talk about it here, but if you’re really curious you can dm me.

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? 

Yes, because if we know where the universe and world came from, we can figure out where it’s headed. See the book Origins by Dan Brown.

168: Do you like to wear makeup? 

Not at all.

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? 

I can barely stand on my feet for more than 30 seconds.

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? 

Tried to.

Ok, this took me an hour and 45 minutes. I’m tired, I’m drunk, I’m going to regret this in the morning, I’m going to bed. Night y’all.

[bigskydreaming]

remypix said: So. How do we get you to become the main writer for Dick at D.C.?

LOL! I appreciate the flattery, but tbh, I don’t really see that ever happening. Its something I’ve thought about a LOT, to be honest, and went back and forth on for years before I ultimately arrived at the conclusions I did and figured out what it was that I really want and what matters the most to me as a writer.

So the following ramble is just my train of thought on all of that, in case its of interest to anyone else for whatever reason. LOL, no scraps of meta to be gleaned from this particular wordvomit-bomb, so don’t feel you’re missing out on anything by skipping past it, its pretty much just how I went about working through my own personal priorities in terms of career goals as a writer, before settling on what path I want to take ultimately, and what paths I’m not really interested in working towards.

But yeah....although I absolutely invested a LOT of time and dream real estate in envisioning my future writing for DC or Marvel someday, came up with entire Giant Size lineups of my own X-Men characters I couldn’t wait to make canon and actually wrote out honest to god To-Do lists for things I wanted to do with certain characters once I got my grimy little hands on them before anyone else had a chance to realize what a mistake that’d been to allow.....

Now, tbh, I don’t really see that as ever being likely....largely because its no longer a career goal I have any real interest in pursuing.

Not because I don’t aim to write professionally - I’ve made a living at it before, and expect I should be able to manage to again once I’m out the other side of my living situation of the past few years where my body only tolerates my attempts to get it to like, function, for a few hours at a time. Writing professionally is a hustler’s game, lol, its not enough to just do the writing, you have to be prepared and able to follow up on any opportunities that come your way quickly and that’s just not in the cards right now. 

But I know how to do it, have done it before, I know how to network and while there’s no such thing as guarantees, there is such a thing as my single-mindedness and refusal to quit even when I probably should, so with that thrown in and all other factors considered, I do think I COULD potentially work my way up to at least a trial writing gig at either Marvel or DC someday, if I focused my efforts on that career direction specifically. Like its possible, I think my skills are at the requisite level, I’ve got the drive, etc, etc.....

But I just don’t see myself likely to set myself on that course ever, at least not any time soon. Not as something I’d need to commit to for a considerable period of time in order to break in and land the right opportunity, because the one thing I know myself well enough to know I lack completely and totally.....is my willingness to ‘play the game.’ The politics that go along with working in a corporate creative environment like Marvel or DC, particularly at the very bottom rungs of those corporate ladders, where I’d inevitably start out and need to kiss a lot of asses to have any chance of someday working my way far enough up the ladder to have any real kind of creative control over what I was writing.

*Shrugs*

Part of the problem is, as much as I love the characters DC has to play with, I do not love the structure that playground is formulated around. Like I’ve talked about a fair amount recently.....for years now, a huge creative problem with DC’s content is how disparate and isolated the various characters and franchises are kept from each other.......and while I know I COULD come up with stories that worked within those kinds of limiting parameters, I wouldn’t really WANT to, you know?

Like as much as I love the idea of writing Dick professionally, making canon stories for him.....in all likelihood, I wouldn’t even have the option of bringing in most of the other characters I’d want to draw upon as supporting elements in those stories. Dick is my favorite member of the Batfam, granted, but like I;ve said before, I do actually like all of them, when written well. I don’t WANT to write a Dick Grayson who’s kept isolated and solitary by editorial mandate, and at most allowed a guest appearance by one or two other Batfam members, as long as its kept brief and nothing significant enough to potentially impact their own storylines occurs in those appearances. 

And you just can’t really write a family like that, at least not well. Not without being severely hampered, to such a degree that even if I did find workarounds to allow me some pagetime with the characters I needed/wanted to include, figuring out a way to make that work creatively within whatever limitations are put forth, like, that would no doubt be stressful and exhausting and the complete opposite of the entire POINT of creative endeavors in my opinion. 

There’s not really a whole lot about that scenario that I’d enjoy, that would make the experience worth the time and effort it’d take to get to a point where its even a possibility......and chances are, it’d be more likely to sour me on the whole creative process of dreaming up and writing stories about this character I love so much, and potentially even leak into my ability to enjoy him, just because of how much personal negativity I now associated with it.

 And then the other aspect of things is just.....there’s a degree of game-playing that’s expected and even required of working as a writer for major companies like Marvel or DC, where you’re one little cog in a very big machine that quite frankly, doesn’t give a damn about your opinions beyond thinking you should be really careful about not expressing any that potentially reflect badly on them or any of their content....not if you want to KEEP working for them for any length of time. Trust me, I’ve known writers and artists who’ve worked for both companies, even known some pretty well, and I wasn’t kidding about the ass-kissing that falls under the heading “job requirement” thanks to a lot of the egos that sit very high up on the creative ladders there, and in key, critical positions that mean you can’t afford to piss them off or seem overly critical of them or their own content or work.

And that’s just....not me. Not anymore, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than capable of holding my tongue when necessary, and doing and saying the right things to advance in those kinds of environments. Like I said, I’ve done it before, and quite well, and for years. Hell, forget the writing for a second, just in my acting career alone....working as an actor is nothing BUT networking, and to get and keep any kind of jobs at all you have to be just as good at that side of things as you are at actual acting, if not better, and well, I worked pretty steadily. I know how to network, how to keep my mouth shut, how to DO it and just focus on my end goal and where all that networking is hopefully going to lead me to.....

I just don’t WANT to, anymore.

Because it really is exhausting. And more than a little soul-crushing. I absolutely LOVE acting, as in the actual craft, just like I love writing, and creating in all kinds of forms. But the hierarchies of bullshit and egos and completely unnecessary power plays that go hand in hand with a lot of the professional work in those fields, is just......really, really draining. 

I’m not someone who likes keeping my mouth shut when I feel I have something to say.....having things to say is for me a huge, integral part of what draws me to story-telling in its various forms in the first place. And for me, that doesn’t begin and end just with what I write and act in myself, it also applies to the atmospheres and environments AROUND what I write and act in and where I write it and act in it. I love big, immersive shared universes like DC and Marvel because of their scope, their potential, the inter-connectivity of it all, and just how BIG it all is, and how big it allows stories to be, how big it allows various characters and their impact to be. But to actually be a PART of one of those myself, on any level, to be one of the pieces that make up its whole, my work a representation of it and thus all of it, to some degree, a representation of me....it wouldn’t be enough for me, to just be proud of what I create in that environment, I’d want to be able to also be proud of what my work is a part of, the other pieces surrounding that. 

And the reality is just.....for all that I like about Marvel and DC, there’s a shit ton I don’t like, and most of that falls under the header of specific tropes and trends and MINDSETS. And I don’t need things to be perfect, or ideal, or exactly as I want them to be personally, I really truly don’t.....because nothing is perfect, and unlikely to ever be perfected within any person’s lifetime. I know that. I understand that. But a lack of perfection doesn’t mean that things can’t constantly be worked on, improved upon, made BETTER, at least heading in that DIRECTION.....and the thing is, I don’t bitch about the various things and trends and mindsets I dislike in my fandoms, in the media I consume and enjoy, like, just to do it. Just to be negative. For me, criticism exists in order to point out existing flaws or areas where something is lacking or could be improved upon.....so that at least the OPTION of improving upon those things even exists.

 If you truly think there’s a flaw in something, something that makes a story or character or creative work less than it could be, holds it back, limits or detracts from its enjoyability at least in some small ways.....the one and only guarantee that exists, is that there’s not even a chance of those things being worked upon, tried a different way, being CONSIDERED by their creators or even just given more thought when creating along similar lines in the first place.....if like, nobody who has a problem with it as is ever like, MENTIONS having that problem with it, or seeing it as being lacking, or less than it could be, in these specific ways. To improve upon a thing, one must first be looking at what could stand to be improved upon, and SEEING it as something to potentially make better or do in a better way, instead of just....exactly the way it was already made.

Criticism is integral to making things better, stronger, MORE than what they already are, and I honestly think the truly great writers and artists of all kinds are the ones who are not just open to criticism, but who THRIVE on it. Who see it not as a judgment, but an opportunity. Who take whatever they can get from it and know how to leave behind the parts that have nothing useful or productive for them.

And Marvel and DC are just....not environments that I see as being all that open to hearing criticism, whether from outside or inside. In fact, I think that’s a huge part of the problem both have, something that’s stagnated them considerably......they’re never really improving upon any of the many areas they’re criticized for, because they refuse to hear that criticism, regard it as having any validity, and when you won’t even LOOK at something that needs improving upon as something that you acknowledge as needing improvement, FOCUS on improving, make that criticized flaw something you focus on rather than ignore, so you can LEARN from its mistakes rather than deny any mistakes exist at all....

Then the only way anything ever gets better at all, whether a little bit or a lot, is by pure blind chance, by just happening to not make the same mistakes next time out or because you focused on a new direction and were lucky enough to avoid stumbling into any particular pitfalls.

And that’s just....not appealing to me at all, even a little bit. Not something I care to be a part of, and I think its a waste of my time or energies, to work for a company that has a lot of problems that I see very specific areas that could be made better and not just for the sake of pointing out flaws, but because I also see various ways they could do things differently and potentially improve upon things......but working for a place who churns out content I think has a lot of flaws, or that I see and hear other people pointing out and commenting on those same flaws and others I didn’t see myself at first but saw after they were pointed out.....and yet knowing that company more than likely wouldn’t be receptive to hearing any mention of existing flaws, but would rather I just keep my mouth shut and just focus on my own story, no matter how I worded any criticism of the broader universe or directions or went about trying to raise said criticism or float it out there even as a hypothetical to consider......

Nah. No thanks. Not for me. 

I know how to play these kinds of games because I was raised playing them and surrounded most of my early life by nothing but game-players, people who played games with everything from the truth, to peoples’ lives, to social issues and politics, all of it was the same and they played games with it all just because they COULD. And I was tired of it a loooooong time ago, and at this point in my life, especially looking back on the last several years that I can’t help but view as largely wasted, because I flat out didn’t even have the OPTION of doing any of the things I wanted to do, was so consumed by day to day survival to such a massive degree that there literally wasn’t even the possibility of trying to work towards the longterm or do anything to advance any of my various career paths or goals.....like, that’s over three years now, going on four, that have just come and gone with nothing to show for them in terms of things I really want for myself and my career, things I actually want to do, things I want to say, stories I want to tell, NEED to tell....and in light of that in particular, like, I honestly can’t stand the thought of wasting potentially years more of my life keeping my mouth shut about things I see problems with purely for the sake of towing the company line, when literally NOBODY benefits from allowing problems to exist unacknowledged and just fester and grow and become entrenched.....not even the company itself.

*Shrugs* It just seems wasteful to me, and I’m already chafing at the bit as is to get back to a level of health and energy and focus, not to mention financial security/stability enough that I can even START moving forward with my actual careers again, working on selling and putting out there the kind of stuff I really want to put out there, put my name to.....it honestly just makes me shudder, thinking about the likelihood of wasting years more of my life in service to priorities that aren’t mine and that I don’t agree with, for the sake of egos I have no stake in, just because the company in question is full of people who are perfectly content with everything they create as is, who don’t aspire to ever be any better than they already are, are okay with already having PEAKED......just so long as it means they don’t have to listen to anyone insinuate or outright state something that everyone already claims to already be aware of and thus shouldn’t actually be all that hard to hear: that perfection doesn’t exist, its unattainable for everyone, and thus the things they’ve created and are working on right now....aren’t....perfect. Meaning, by extension.....they could be made better. Improved upon. Grown or evolved or honed into something that reaches MORE people, resonates MORE strongly, touches MORE hearts, changes MORE minds.

Why don’t people, artists, want that for themselves? For their work, that they put so much of themselves into, expend so much time and effort to make? I’ll never understand. Can’t relate.

And the real kicker for me, the thing that ultimately helped me make up my mind on this awhile back, and more than that, make my PEACE with the possibility of never getting to work professionally on these characters who mean so much to me already, even though I think theoretically I’m capable of it, could potentially make that a reality....

Its that....I don’t HAVE to waste that time, catering to those other peoples’ priorities, just to tell the stories I want to tell. Aiming for that particular path, constraining myself in ways I’m not really comfortable for the sake of people I don’t really like and messages I don’t actually agree with.....its not actually anything I need, and doesn’t actually offer me anything.

I do love Dick Grayson and other existing characters, and want to write them the way I truly see them, and immerse them and surround them with other characters I like as well and think SHOULD be around them, supporting them, their narratives entwined with them......and I already can do that with fanfic. *Shrugs* I can write the stories those existing characters inspire in me, that I really want to tell, and not worry about the oversight or by-committee mandates or approval of uncreative DC higher-ups holding me back or limiting me or telling me I can only use certain characters and only to certain degrees or in certain ways. I can scratch that itch, I can put those out there without DC, and an audience exists for them, and always has and always will. Yeah, its a limited audience, compared to the platform DC has and the greater number of committed fans their Brand Name and existing properties help direct to every new writer who works for them or new story or new characters....no fanfic I write will ever reach the number of eyes Tom King’s or Scott Lobdell’s stories get in front of.....but honestly? I’d MUCH rather have a limited audience, than be limited in the stories I can tell.

And as for reaching wider audiences, getting my content, my stories out there in front of more eyes.....I have my original content for that, and I’m fully comfortable and confident in my ability to create characters and build immersive worlds that can be just as compelling as anything existing, whether that’s actually self-confidence or hubris, lol, who knows and who cares. Point is, I love DC’s characters but I don’t NEED them in order to have characters to play with, and I don’t need to try and break into a playground that honestly seems full of a ton of crap for every square foot I’m ACTUALLY interested in and there for.

I can make my own, and have, and will continue to do so. I’ve got my own superhero universe called The Ellis Eighteen that I’ve been building most of my life and might not have the history or scope of DC’s decades of existing content and hundreds of creators, but its still more than enough content to keep me busy for the rest of my life, even just that one universe of mine alone, and when my problem with that particular project is not having enough time or energy as is to write all the stories I already want to write there with just my own characters and universe and narratives........there’s absolutely no reason for me to settle elsewhere.

Because similar to what I was saying about why I’m okay with writing just fanfic for Dick, even if that puts a ceiling on how far I can ever go with that......its about personal priorities and everyone ultimately needing to figure out what matters most to them in terms of personal ambitions and longterm goals, and in a world where nobody can ever get everything they want all the time, exactly on their terms.....figuring out where you’re most willing to cut losses and what you most strongly feel you need to do your way.

My own original superhero universe could be the best thing anyone’s ever seen and leaps and bounds above anything DC or Marvel create, and it doesn’t matter - the mere limitations inherent in creating new characters and universes in an already saturated market, the struggle to compete with household names and give people a reason to direct even a second glance towards characters they’ve never heard of when there are four different titles out this week containing even just one of the characters they already know and love and have been reading for decades, the basic math of one individual creator’s content never in a million years ever going to have the real estate or reach that even the least popular and worst written of DC’s titles enjoys just because association with all their other established and proven content gives them an automatic boost that I’ll never be able to match or replicate on my own with original characters....all of that is real, and a factor and things I’ve considered and accepted. 

Because at the end of the day, I decided the most important thing for me is bottom line, I like telling stories. But I like telling MY stories, the ones that only exist because I came up with them and thus will never exist for anyone else unless I write them the way they read to me in my head, the stories that CAN’T exist without me to tell them. And I like to tell my stories my way, in the sense that they may not be perfect and they might have areas of their own in which they’re flawed or lacking or could stand to be improved upon, but they at least don’t make the mistakes I see as mistakes in others’ work, and they prioritize the things that are important to me, and tell the messages I want to tell.

And with all that in mind, I would much rather devote myself towards walking a much longer, much harder road with absolutely no guarantees of ever gaining the kind of audience I might have if I worked for Marvel or DC......as long as it means that for all its drawbacks, every step I take on that road, I get to take while telling MY stories, MY way, the way I think they were meant to be told and without people I don’t respect or agree with backseat driving as I tell them, trying to give me directions as if they know how to get to where I want to go with my stories better than I do myself.

Compared to having a (comparatively) shorter even if no less difficult road to GET to a place where Marvel or DC hired me to write for them....at which case they’d shuttle me off in whatever direction they wanted to send me on a shortcut that admittedly gets me to a much wider audience in a much shorter time, and with far more guarantees of profit and thus a smoother ride.....but every step I take on THAT road, I ONLY ever get to tell the stories they allow me to tell, the ones that they like personally, and only after I’ve run them by them for approval first, and reshaped it into the form THEY want it to have and read the way they want it to sound, before ever reaching a single other person’s ears, with that vast audience only ever getting to read those versions of the stories I came up with....rather than the versions that read the way I originally wanted them to, that tell the stories I REALLY wanted to tell.

Again - its not about not being willing to compromise or settle or an insistence on things being the way you want them to be and no other way.

Its about the fact that everyone has to decide for themselves what they’re willing to compromise and what they aren’t - because it is OKAY to have things you’re not willing to budge on, you’re not rigid or unreasonable for having SOME things exist as dealbreakers for you, that make or break whether you head in a certain direction when a multitude of other directions are open and available to you.

And similarly, its up to the individual to figure out for themselves WHERE they’re willing to settle and in what ways....and where and in what ways they have to stand firm because settling there means sacrificing too much of what’s most important to them.

Like I said, for me, personally? The journey and the destination are the same thing. Whether I’m acting or writing, I view it as just different forms of story-telling. THAT’S the career I secretly dreamed of even as a child.....it was never that important what medium I told the stories through or logistics or superficial elements....the important part was the story, that was the point, that was the endgoal. *Shrugs* That’s all that’s really most important to me, priority uno at the end of the day: finding ways to go through life maximizing my ability, my freedom to spend my time telling stories, MY stories, the ones only I can tell because I’m the one that came up with them and they don’t exist outside my head, and telling them the way I truly want to tell them, the way they seem to me are MEANT to be told - because there’s only so far and only certain ways you can deviate from a story as you initially conceive it before it becomes actually a different story, that says something other than what you actually meant for it to say.

Big audiences and large royalty checks and movie deals and getting to use characters that others created but I fell in love with and see myself in all the same - all of that is great and has its place. But to me, the stories themselves are the point, they’re what any story-telling skills or talents I have seem FOR....

And if I’m going to bust my ass telling as many of the stories that pop into my head as I can, to the best of my ability, in hopes of them reaching the most people in ways I WANT them to reach people, resonate with them, speak to them, always trying to become better with each story I tell, each criticism I’m given, not out of some expectation I’ll ever actually craft a ‘perfect’ story or some sense of moral superiority, but rather just because stories IMO are meant to be enjoyed, and the better each story is, the more people are likely to enjoy it and what else is even the point of story-telling if you ask me personally...

Well. I’m just saying. If I’m gonna put in the best work I can either way, put in the time either way, and basically spend the majority of my effort, time and life telling stories one way or another.....

I’m sure as fuck only doing all of that so I can tell MY stories. Not someone else’s stories. 

Because when writing for DC, even for the chance to write characters I’ve loved for most of my life....also means having to shove each story I want to tell through a woodchipper that shaves it down according to someone else’s priorities, expectations and rules for how and in what ways I’m allowed to use which characters and to what ends or what degree - or worse yet, a whole COMMITTEE of someone elses - when all of that is going to whittle away whatever story I WANTED to tell, to such an extent that by the time it actually ends up in front of readers, it stands as much chance of being the story one or more of them actually wanted out there as it does of still being or saying anything I actually wanted or intended.....

Then as much as I used to dream about writing the X-Men or Green Lantern or Nightwing as a kid.....now, I’m more than comfortable saying nah, hard pass. I’ll go my own way with my own characters in terms of professional content and output, even if it never gets me as far as working for Marvel or DC might. And it costs me absolutely nothing to do so. I lose nothing in making that choice.

Because for me, its the alternative that would actually feel like settling.

And if any writers out there prioritize differently or choose differently or see all this differently and writing Dick or Bruce or Jason or some other existing character is still the dream, and the goal they still focus on working towards....there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, as long as its what works for you, and aligns to what YOU prioritize as most important for your career, art, goals and how you want to spend your time and effort as a writer.

[inuwritesstuff]

The Performance of a Lifetime- Part Four

Actor AU! Kuroo x Reader

Reader is female

Warning

 its a little raunchy with lyrics but nothing really happens. Just an inappropriate song they are acting out. 

Also mentions tsukishima/yamaguchi ship stuff  

WC: 1670

Cross posted on Ao3

Part Three

“Again Y/N. Show me how much you wanna do this.” Kuroo cooed, pushing you away from him once more after pushing him onto the bed. “Ugh Kuroo let’s just finish the scene and let me just fake it with you.” You grumbled, shoving him back onto the bed and frowning deeply as the music continued on muffled by the pillow covering the phone. Kuroo stared up at you and blinked before lazily smiling. “Fake it huh? You want me that badly Y/N?” “Oh shut up you know what i mean.I just want-”

“You want this done right. So do it right. “ he argued, trying to sit up but your weight holding him down by his shoulders kept him from moving. “Get on all fours, kiss this dead girl walking.” you sang picking up where the music was playing at now. “Let’s go you know the drill, I’m hot and pissed and on the pill. Bow down to the will of a dead girl walkinggggg~” you sang louder, smirking and kissing his jaw like how the director told them to act out. Kuroo looked softly up at Y/N as you sang the next part so softly, like you were truly comforting your partner. 

“That works for me-OOF.” He recited his line as you pulled him off the bed and pinned him against the wall, kissing him roughly. You had barely thought of stage kissing him before but you knew that you would have to do it one day. Might as well make the first time you kiss him private. You didn’t want people gawking at you. It's not like he was your first kiss or anything too. You two mimicked taking off clothing without really doing anything before rolling back onto the bed as the music played.

“Get your ass in gear make this whole town disappear. ” you sang louder,  totally forgetting that Kenma was stream. “Slap me. Pull my hair. Touch me there, there, there. LOVE THIS DEAD GIRL WALKING~” You took a breath to continue singing before the door slammed open. “Kuroo what did I say!” The streamer shouted, before staring at the two of you. Oh god this looked like a bad situation for the two of them. “Oh god. Please… for the love of all things sacred in this world, tell me you two are acting right now because I’m out if you two are reall-” 

“Yes Kenma. Why the fuck would we be singing if we were really doing it?” Kuroo asked , furrowing his eyebrows as he propped himself up on the bed, you still on top of him. YOU felt bare. Naked.Even though you both still had all your clothing on it was weird to have Kenma interrupt your practice. “I have no clue you are a theater person. I hear you sing in the shower all the time.” “Kenma.. You really don’t know how any of this works do you?” he asked with a monotone voice before looking at you and sighing. “Look at what I have to deal with Y/N. He’s so uneducated in our world even though he’s my childhood friend.”

“I can’t believe you would think we were going at it kenma. Who sings while having-” “I DON’T KNOW! Now… Please be quiet or I will kick you both out of MY apartment. I pay for most of the rent. So I control what and who is here.” Kenma pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around and walked out of the room. “I think I should go anyways. Kei and Tadashi are most likely starting dinner now.” You told your partner before getting off him and heading for the door. Kuroo laid still in his bed before lift a hand up and waving. “Night Y/N. Get home safe. I’m just.. Gonna lay here and think about how well you seduced me.” He told you , making you blush and head out the apartment, going to the nearest bus station that would take you home. You had seduced him huh? Was it in character or not though that was the question. You hoped in character honestly. You.. can’t believe you even toyed with the idea of him falling for you. Ugh why where you even entertaining the idea of him. You hung your head and groaned softly. God he was snarky and was just.. Ugh.. frustrating . UGH why were you even thinking about him. You had a thing for Bokuto. You pulled out your phone and texted Bokuto quickly.

Text to Owl Head > Hey just leaving Kuroos now. Can you let him know when i get home? Text from Owl Head > OvO O f c o u r s e. How did it go?OuO You groaned at his texting emojis. He was so cringy sometimes but it was cute and endearing most times. Text to Owl Head > We did  only one song before i left. Kenma was streaming and he got mad we were loud. Text from Owl Head > Oh yeah That’s Kenma for you.I’m surprised Kuroo even let you over when he was home. ;p He normally doesn’t introduce people to Kenma because he’s not a people person.

Text to Owl Head  > Ah yeah I can see that. 

You wanted to bring up the fact Kuroo talked about how pretty you were for a week now. You blushed again and looked out the window as the bus pulled up to your stop. You got off and headed to your boys waiting for you at home. You closed your eyes and sighed as the walked into the apartment. You heard something dropping making you open your eyes. You were expecting to see Kei and Tadashi. But not like this. “Oh. OH. OHHHHHHHHHHH.” you shouted, pointing at the two shirtless men in your living room. Tadashi sitting on Kei’s lap as Kei was lounging on the couch. “I’m so dumb!” you slapped your forehead and covered your eyes as you shut the door behind you with your foot. “Okay I’ll go hide in my room. ‘Kay bye.” You got out before either could mutter a word to you. You slammed your door shut and flopped down on your bed. Well that was interesting. Of course they would be dating. How dumb were you. You just thought Kei was Tadashi’s partner while they wrote like a co-author. Not his actual partner. YOU HAD BEEN ROOMMATES FOR HOW LONG NOW AND YOU JUST FOUND OUT? You internally screamed at yourself. How dumb did you have to be? You felt your pocket vibrate as you screamed more in your head. What now? Text from ??? > Kou gave me your number. Its Kuroo. Hope you got home safe. Text to ??? > I’m home safe. Don’t worry about me. 

You added his number into your phone quickly and sighed. Text to The Cat Man >  Be honest. How dumb am I? Text from The Cat Man >  Very. You think you have a chance with Kou. LOL

Text to The Cat Man >  Ur mean. I’m blocking you

Text from The Cat Man > D: Nu pls. I need you for something

You were curious now. What did he need you for? There was a lot it could be. You paused while texting him. Maybe you should just leave him on read for a bit. No matter what you were going to do, it got abruptly interrupted by Tadashi walking into your room with a thick heavy blush across his face. “I’M SO SORRY Y/N!” He bowed to you and stood up straight just as quick. “If you don’t want us to room with you anymore we totally get it. We lied to you about our relationship and-” “Dude. I don’t care??” you told him completely confused why they would think they would get kicked out for making out in the living room. “A heads up would have been nice but yeah I don’t… I don’t care. I’m just dumb and I can’t believe i didn’t see it before.” “Yeah we weren’t subtle.” “Tsuki. Stop.” “Hey I’m right though. Why should I stop? I told her day one i was your partner. And she didn’t know until know? Dumbass.” 

You chuckle and pointed at Tadashi. “Your boyfriend is right. I am a dumbass.” Tadashi chuckled nervously and sat on the edge of your bed as Kei walked in and leaned against the door frame. “How was your day? Didn’t you go to Kuroo’s place?” Tadashi asked making Kei’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You. Y/N. Willing spent time with Kuroo? Are you sick or something? Dying?” Kei teased making your eyes roll as you sunk back into your bed and glanced at your phone. 

4 messages from The Cat Man

 You winced and unlocked your phone and glanced at the messages. Text from The Cat Man > Kenma kicked me out after I tried practicing Meant to be Yours apparently too loudly.

Text from The Cat Man > So I’m at Akaashi’s and Kou’s 

Text from The Cat Man >  I need help with what pizza I should get

Text from The Cat Man >  hello? Y/N??

You rolled your eyes again and chuckled , texting him back a simple order of a cheese and banana peppers pizza before turning your attention to Tadashi again who was wearing a smug look. “The Cat Man?” He asked, peering over at your phone. “What about Owl Head huh? You seem to be awfully fond of Kuroo all of a sudden.” he teased, his boyfriend’s humor wearing off on him. “I hate you both. Now go make me dinner and MAYBE I will talk about what happened tonight.” you were met with a glare from Kei before he caved and shrugged. “Fine. I’ll make you something nasty then. Like a seaweed and water casserole.” “You are an ass.” You retorted to Kei before looking at your phone again seeing Kuroo had send a thumbs up emoji. You felt your stomach do a flip as you looked at the text and you hid your phone as you continued on with your night.

[szopenhauer]

When was the last time you cried and what was the reason?: family issues

Do you believe in ghosts?: maybe

If you could live on the moon, would you?: almost all of it belongs to Tom Cruise so no 

What is your favorite time in history to learn about?: I just like many interesting history facts in general

When is the last time you felt discriminated against because of your gender?: not sure which situation was last

What race are you?: caucasian, white, european, polish, slavic

What is your favorite sex position?: I’m not into sex tbh Have you ever lost your SO to another person?: yup

Have you ever had a thing for a friend’s parent?: no

Have you ever believed in Santa Clause? from what I remember

Have you ever thought you were getting a surprise party, but you really weren’t? nah and I don’t like surprises so I’m glad I never really had a party like this

Have you ever forgotten someone’s birthday? I suck with dates

Has a friend looked bad in a profile picture and you didn’t tell her? it was my opinion but if they liked their pic then it’s their problem

Does it take forever for your internet to load websites? sometimes

Have you ever pretended to listen to someone but you really weren’t? yeah :x

Are you a bad driver, or do you know someone that is? I know some that are bad yet say they’re oh so awesome at it ugh!

Have you seen the animated movies Tarzan? sure

Have you actually called 911 for an actual emergency? If so, what was the emergency? not me but my parents

Do you sleep in the living room a lot? I never do

Did you enjoy watching The Flintstone’s growing up? yep

Do you wish you were born in a different year? kinda wish I was born after war and die before 2020 or even live in another time period 

What do you buy more: Movies or candy? neither

Did you used to eat chapstick when you were younger? ewww, noooo, not even toothpaste

What made you pick up the last book you started reading? I was watching a movie and heard that book has a different ending so I had to see for myself Have you received any bad or troubling news lately? shitload When was the last time you were relieved about something? I wish I was... What about your life concerns you the most? my health related issues mostly but also money and fam, love life, religion etc. Is there a common thing most people seem to do without trouble, but it scares you (talking on the phone, driving, interviews, etc)? When was the last time you had to do one of these kinds of things? there are, recently

Describe a time when you were there for a friend? were there in person? When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? days or weeks ago What is a situation that makes you feel especially confident? umm... Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? depends Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? I guess I’m easily offended Is there a belief you have that most others around you don’t have? Do you share this belief with others, or do you tend to keep it to yourself?  sure, might talk about it if asked and in the mood  If you’ve moved out from home, what was the scariest thing about it? What was/is your favorite thing about it? I didn’t move out yet but there are dark scenarios I imagine that could happen and they concern me What are your thoughts on “forgiving” murderers or rapists? Do you think it’s even possible to forgive these people? I wouldn’t forgive a rapist but particular murders can be justified If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take? who cares about grades and cost when you have no possibility/talent/ability anyway?... Last item of clothing you purchased - do you wear it often? didn’t wear it yet Has anything made you feel nostalgic lately? lots What was the last chore you completed? I just helped mom around kitchen and bathroom - przynieś/podaj itp.

Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? sloth?

Has anyone ever told you that you’re incapable of whispering? nope, my mom is incapable, she whispers louder than when she’s normally talking to someone

Who was the best kisser you’ve ever dated? I’ve only kissed one person in my entire life

When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? yesterday

this one

and I plan on doing smth similar

Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? one of the most reliable sources that are available for free

When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? meh

Do you want to repaint your walls? I prefer to move out 

Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? hardwood

Who would you say is the most selfish person you know? majority of society

Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? waste of the movie

How old were you when you got to go on your first date? dunno what I can count as one

Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? weirdly protective

Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? never had a chance to

Has anyone ever called you a good kisser before? I had my moment

Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? she’s into men so...

Do you know someone who cares about themselves more than their child? it seems that most of parents act this way

What’s your favorite hairstyle you’ve had so far? hmm...

How many dogs do you have, if any at all? 1

Do you think biting is weird or sexy? biting hard is very dangerous and I’m not into being bitten but I might/can bite a little

Would you rather be called hot or beautiful? neither but I'll “believe” slightly more in being beautiful than hot I think

Have you ever had a pet turtle before? yep

Do you still sleep with your parents when you’re scared sometimes? just once I had a bad night and my dad was working overnight so I went to my mom’s bed but then I left in the middle of the night anyway as she was snoring, not that it usually bothers me 

Have you ever met someone with two different color eyes? saw pics on the internet only

How many surveys on average would you say you’ve done in your lifetime? shitload

Do you enjoy going school shopping? tiny bit as I enjoy shopping in general?

Do you think Pug dogs are adorable or just plain ugly? adorable

Have you ever met someone who completely resembled their pet? lookalikes

Has anyone ever knitted you something before? sure

Do you think there is a soulmate out there for everyone? then why some ppl die single?...

Do you like short or long surveys the best? it’s not about length, I need interesting questions

Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real? I didn’t try to make it pas for real wtf

Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? *rolling my eyes*

How many uncles do you have? don’t know nor care as they don’t give a shit about me

Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along? nah, sometimes I feel physically bad because of it tho

How often do you shower? basically everyday

What is the absolute worst thing about high school? from my personal experience - stress

How many sodas do you usually drink in one day? I don’t drink soda for years

Have you ever met an annorexic pregnant woman? woah I can’t imagine that

Have you ever simply looked at someone & could tell they were homosexual? oh well...

Do you have the ability to read someone without even knowing them? sometimes

Would you rather eat or sleep? sleep

Are you one of those die hard Twilight or Harry Potter fans? am not, especially Twilight - I didn’t read/watch it because it sounds awful

Have you ever cried while watching a movie trailor? yes 

Have you ever learned that someone had lied to you all along? sadly

When was the last time you had a physical injury? this ending week

Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer? not really

Have you ever had to bail someone out of jail before? nope

Is there anyone in your imediate family who was adopted? no

Do you know anyone who doesn’t have any common sense? I meet many ppl like this often on the streets or online

Do you think you look anything like your parents? I know I do

Who is the skinniest person you know? Is it because of a disease? when it comes to look or weight? disease though

Is this year the best one you’ve had so far? r u joking?...

What color is your significant other’s hair? natural or dye? XD

Are you ashamed of anyone in your family? yeah The best Christmas gift you ever gotten? The sims 2 as I dreamed of it and didn’t expect my poor parents will afford and give it to me ever, I was so moved that I cried and my sister was jealous and angry 

Who is your favorite actor or actress? can’t decide

What is cuter: kisses on the forehead of the cheek? I don’t consider them cute when I receive them but kind of awkward actually but giving them is a different story

Do you believe in evolution or creation? smth in between, it’s complicated 

What group would you say you’d normally fit into the most? I feel that I wouldn’t really fit any

Are you better at drawing things or painting? drawing

Have either of your parents ever called you a failure before? I am a failure

How long have you been on the computer right now? too long, about 6 hours Name three black things that you can see? celphone, pendrive, necklace would you perfer to do the dishes or hang washing/laundry? dishes

[koganphrancis]

Ernie & Bert Are Planning A Wedding

OR: My thoughts on Episode 11

Everything just hurts.  Let me start with the “previously on” segment.  Yeah, we finally get an Ian/Mickey intro, but it’s just like so many of the other intros-random characters outside yelling at viewers.  Since there’s been little to none intimacy for this couple this season we couldn’t have caught them in bed?  Or in mid-kiss?  Nope.  Ian can be drinking yet another beer tho.  Pretty sure those meds we saw when Sandy grabbed Mickey’s dick all those episodes ago now was Mickey’s gerd medication.  Ian’s clearly not being written as taking medication at all (yet again).  

But as usual, I digress.  The show starts with a somewhat cute reminder of how the Gallavich house is within running distance of the (now torn down in real life, RIP) Milkovich house.  Unfortunately it’s Terry who reminds us.  Ian’s watching Terry screaming up at the house while Mickey’s...off doing something without Ian.  Seriously, whatever the opposite of “joined at the hip” is, that’s what these epic soulmates are this season :( 

Anyway, Mickey walks downstairs and Ian unhelpfully informs him, “Your dad’s here.”  Mickey says yeah and goes out to see Terry.  Ian gives one more peek thru the curtain but must decide that Mickey’s in no danger, since next we see him, Ian’s sitting in the kitchen casually chatting with Lip about something that’ll never happen (Lip moving to Wisconsin).

Outside, Mickey and Terry draw guns on each other while Terry’s just now (?) trying to figure out where Mickey went “wrong” and turned out gay.  Um, I know Terry’s been busy with prison and running his illegal enterprises (whatever they might be), but he’s just now trying to catch up on what he learned literally years ago when he walked in on Ian and Mickey having sex?  

(Gif credit: jackorowan)

The scene at least gives us an iconic Mickey line, “I definitely love one,” but is it too little too late?  It’s enough to send Terry on his way for now, after one last threat.  Mickey calmly goes back inside, says “mornin’” to Ian and Lip, and starts to make himself a bowl of cereal.  I list all that out to stress how non-stressed he seems.  Ian says, “So, how’s your dad?”, and just like the, “Hi, Mr. Milkovich” and “Was Mickey adopted?” conversation Ian had with Terry in S9, so far everything is being written to show how this is just normal family life when it comes to Terry.  But by the next scene the show will want us to buy that something entirely different is going on and I just don’t understand why they can’t find a narrative and stick to it.  In the days since the episode aired, I’ve read so many head canon posts about how understandable it was for Mickey to flip out after seeing Terry, and how that brought all Mickey’s past trauma to the surface and of course it turned him into a groomzilla, but I just can’t agree that that’s what the show either set out to do or accomplished.  Mickey’s been working for Terry, he’s been around him-it’s one of the few things about Mickey’s life the show has shown us since he’s been out of prison.  Everyone in Terry’s world that they’ve shown is perfectly comfortable talking about the fact that yes, some people are in fact gay.  Terry’s peers in prison, Terry’s own relatives-why suddenly in Episode 11 is this “a thing”?  

Anyway, the scene continues after Mickey quips that he doesn’t think Terry will be his best man.  Liam joins the scene and there’s very cute, well executed banter where Ian, Lip, and Mickey tell him they can each forge Frank’s signature.  It’s a tantalizing glimpse of what the season could’ve been if these guys were allowed to all be in scenes together.  

Mainly thanks to Myles’ AV Club review, I know that for whatever reason, the show decided to do a one month time jump between the engagement episode and this one.  WTF?  It doesn’t even make sense-it means somewhere that woman holding Frank captive was feeding him and clothing and bathing him?  That Liam hasn’t been to school in a month because Frank hasn’t been around to sign him in?  As if that wouldn’t have had CPS showing up at the Gallagher house (that has to be red flagged in the system by now)?  Debbie being toyed with by that mother and daughter has been going on for weeks at this point?  The only thing the time jump did that I care about was rob us of seeing Mickey and Ian telling people they were engaged.  We deserved a little scene of Ian and Lip talking about it at least-give Lip the opportunity to ask Ian what changed his mind about marriage and give the audience the opportunity to hear some sort of explanation.  “I heard some guy I know Mickey didn’t care about putting him down and I just knew then and there I had to marry him,” doesn’t quite cut it.  

But so much for what should have been.  In the next scene, Mickey slaps down a pile of wedding magazines and drops the news on Ian (as he hands him a beer) that they’re going to have a “wedding wedding”.  Mickey needs a headcount for the reception venue-clearly money is no problem, so working for Terry all those intervening weeks must’ve been lucrative.  

In a rare instance of the show actually cluing us in on someone’s thought process, Mickey says flat out that he now wants a “real” wedding because his fuckhead dad threatened to murder him-again-cuz he’s gay.  So, see?  AGAIN.  What’s different this time?  It’s like the show NEEDS there to be a reason, a mitigating circumstance, for two men to want to get married.  They can’t just let Mickey and Ian have the natural progression of their relationship leading to a lifetime together.  It’s so offensive.  And again, for viewers that have been invested in this relationship for so long, it just hurts.  Mickey’s doing this as a big FU to his father rather than as a big ILY to Ian.  That’s OOC for sure-Mickey’s always put loving Ian first in his life.  

In planning the wedding, Noel does get some great moments.  Talking about the “little shits that light the candles”, and his choice of wedding song, and confronting the homophobic old bitch at the florist.  And the literal scenery chewing he does at the wedding chairs rental place was, I’m sure, quite fun for Noel as an actor.  BUT-the only moment we get where Ian seems on board/with Mickey in any of it is at the florist before the bitch sets Mickey off.  Otherwise Ian’s like a casual bystander in all this-and that’s just not in character either.  Why can’t they both be into making these decisions?  Why, even if Ian truly couldn’t give a shit about seeing Mickey happy about these little details-why can’t they at least be affectionate with each other?  I don’t expect Schitt’s Creek level adoring looks, but I do expect Gallavich level.  Ian used to look at Mickey with awe even when Mickey was being his Mickey-est.  Why aren’t they allowed to show that anymore?  

I will say, I did love the stargazer lily thing-altho it’s all the more frustrating to realize this week’s writer must’ve watched at least the fan compilation video of Gallavich to know that detail was a very sweet throw back-why couldn’t they also write some kisses and hand holding in too?  But anyway, “Beyond Blue” and Mickey looking touched when Ian said he liked the blue ones-we needed a lot more moments like that this season.  Why everything’s getting crammed into these final, rushed episodes is beyond me.  

Now I have to bitch again about what was wrong with the florist scene.  Yes, I’m sure there are plenty of people like that woman in the world.  But there are also plenty who don’t oppose same sex marriage.  Why is it always such a big deal on Shameless?  Either everything’s gay or nothing is.  They’ve given us an entire squad of fire fighters who are gay.  Debbie clearly can’t walk five feet in any direction since the show decided she was gay without her finding a woman DTF her.  Ian had-what was the ridiculous number?-7 million Instagram followers when he was Gay Jesus.  So ONE homophobic old lady in a flower shop means disaster?  Ian knows how to look shit up on his phone, he proved that looking for wedding statistics.  You mean to tell me he doesn’t know how to check Yelp reviews to somehow find a gay-friendly florist in a city the size of Chicago?  

Mickey did get a couple of funny lines in that scene (killed me when he called her Grandma), but, again the show is throwing too much in the blender.  Is the scene supposed to be that funny?  If Mickey is dealing with past trauma, this is just adding to it.  And Ian, who is supposed to know Mickey better than anyone (including the viewer) isn’t acting worried about him, he’s acting like he’s being dragged all these places against his will.  So where’s the comedy in that?

Next there’s a scene of Mickey walking down the sidewalk and glorious natural light, looking like he’s glowing.  It immediately gets ruined by Ian stopping in front of a store window full of bride mannequins and looking at them and then after Mickey, with the visual implication strongly suggesting that Mickey’s the “woman” in their relationship which is so outdated in 2020 that the show and the network should have to pay a fine.  

Then we get the chairs meltdown, which gives us the truest line, “Why does everything always have to SUCK?”  You’re singing our song, Mickey.  Then the show proves that point for the millionth time by having Mickey call the chairs guy the R word-twice. 

In the next scene, Mickey’s called in the always reliable important character of Mand..um, Sandy because Ian’s of no use to him.  WTF?  Mickey is still talking up grandiose wedding plans and Ian’s still trying to figure it all out.  He tries to ask, “This is still about Terry, right?  You don’t give a shit about weddings...” Mickey interrupts him to ask where his ring is.  Ian has to stop and think and realizes he must’ve left it on the sink.  He runs off before Mickey can tear him a new one.  Mickey throws his pen down and says to Sandy, “I can’t even.”  Sandy replies, “I can see why you called,” but on Twitter fans have pointed out her lips appear to be saying, “Is he even into this at all?”  WHICH IS ANOTHER THING.  After all Ian’s marriage issues, why is Mickey bulldozing ahead and not noticing what Ian seems to be feeling AT ALL.  (Which appears to be that he’s once again regretting this whole marriage thing.)  Why does the show make the two of them so blind to each other’s feelings now?  WHY?  Now that Lip’s living in the RV, do they even share a room anymore?  They act like they never, ever talk now.  There is such a disconnect hanging over the short time they are shown together in every episode.  Not to mention they’ve been desexualized to the point of being a couple of Ken dolls.  John Wells must be so thrilled he doesn’t have to sit thru dailies of them physically touching anymore.  I’m willing to believe he hired someone to Jeff Giloolly Cam’s leg so he could have Mickey and Ian get engaged and married without any love scenes at this point.

In the last scene, Ian and Mickey are at The Alibi and Ian’s (having a beer) making one last attempt to simplify the wedding.  After another “it depends who’s the bride and who’s the groom” eye-rolling moment, Ian asks, “Can’t we just be Ian and Mickey?”  I guess not, when it comes to this show.  In the past Ian would’ve loved Mickey’s tension away for him-letting Mickey find his release in multiple orgasms, not in wedding planning.  Now all he can do is hire some guy with a guitar to show up at the bar and sing Mickey’s wedding song-and “sing” is a very generous term here.  Props to the show for not having an amazing singer just show up out of the blue, but, for the love of my bleeding ears, couldn’t they have found less of a screecher?  

Mickey is, at first, freaked out by this guitar playing weirdo coming near his booth, but when he recognizes the song he asks, “How the fuck did you know that?”  The guitarist replies, “Little bird told me” indicating Ian, and then unfortunately goes back to the song and soon finds himself way out of his range.  Mickey gives Ian a soft look, Ian gives Mickey one of the smiles he only ever has for Mickey, and Silver Tree becomes JW’s favorite director ever by not even letting us see them holding each other’s hands-that’s below the camera line.  For all we can prove, maybe Ian and Mickey were just reaching for the salt shaker at the same time.  Personally, I would’ve ended the episode with Ian and Mickey metaphorically and literally getting on the same page-they go back to the house, their double bed is covered in Mickey’s wedding magazines and color swatches and seating charts and whatever other wedding prep detritus.  Ian, seeing it all laid out like that says softly, “Are you really doing all this for Terry?” and Mickey says, “Course not, it’s all for us.  We deserve it.”  Then they flop down on the bed together and get to kissing, right on top of it all.  

But no, can’t have them intimate or even on the same side of a booth.  So, you’d think that happy-ish ending we did get means Mickey’s out of his Terry-induced panic, but scenes and stills for the season finale will disabuse you of that hope.  

My final thought is: I’m wondering how much, if any, of these wedding details we’ll see.  The show is too cheap now to spend money on a church wedding with those gorgeous stargazer lilies and the little shits that light the candles.  Plus why would you have Living On A Prayer sung again when you used it in this episode?  Will one of them-or both of them-walk down an aisle?  They’ve already got their rings and have been wearing them-I don’t see them wearing multiple rings each.  If the show had any guts at all, it’d have them exchange cock rings at the ceremony ;P  Will we even get to see the wedding part or will they go straight to some sort of brawl/reception?  And, sadly, I’ve felt from the first time I saw pictures of them driving off in the Mercedes that we’re not going to see them get to consummate the marriage.  I hope I’m wrong about all of it, but I won’t be surprised to be let down utterly-either by what they don’t or what they do show :(  See ya on the other side!

[notasiren21]

My Romance Kdrama Rankings and rec.:

*warning: possibly a lot of spoilers but tbh mostly just a redone synopsis of the shows*

Also a bit lengthy as hell

#12. Melting Me Softly

This show didn’t do that well as much as it was expected to, considering it even had Ji Chang-Wook as the male lead and the adorable Choi Bo-min who was introduced and quite possibly helped quick start the recognition for his kpop group Golden Child. I’ll admit I expected more of this and I don’t hold anything against the script writer who I heard did Strong Woman, but I kept in mind that the whole premise itself was also very complex to work with. Besides the fact it had two very cute and good looking male leads to draw me in, what really did it was the said premise. This is coming from a girl who is in love with Fallout 4 where the playable character was cryogenically frozen and then thawed out two centuries later, that shit slaps with me for some reason and I was excited to see it play out in this.

The romance is okay I guess, still “aww” worthy and has an intense kiss scene that’ll go down in Ji Chang-Wook’s kissing portfolio no doubt, as well as a hot kiss with his former and now aged flame that is only dreamt of. What drives the romance is the male lead with his puppy dog eyes and loving gaze, only a few have COMPLETELY mastered this in the kdrama buisness. Choi Bo-min was a complete adorable cutie who seemed to have fallen in love for the first time and I couldn’t help but fall in love with him (we’re also the same age but that’s besides the point and I’m completely in love with Rocky from Astro so like, I gotta keep this professional).

Time and time again I have issues with female leads in dramas and feel like the men pick up the slack when it comes to acting, this was one of those times. She was funny and quirky but seemed very out of focus on serval aspects. I think her most redeeming trait besides being made for the media and entertainment business in the show was her completely devotion to her brother.

#11. Suits

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, Park Hyungsik is my favorite korean actor hands down.

I’ve seen bits of the American version, the original version, and it didn’t interest me in the slightest. I took a chance on this because I saw this cutie wearing a suit and converse and maybe that’s my kink, who knows, but I was fucking HERE for it. Now I’m a huge slave to romance and the shows, romcoms, that shit. I need to ship, I need to see the love, possibly write a fanfic of it, save gifs of the couple being cute or someone pining. But this show didn’t focus on the love story brewing on the side, it focused on its original intent and purpose which was Park Hyungsik and Jang Don-Gun’s partnership as mentor and mentee, the practice of law, and Park Hyungsik’s storyline as someone who got mixed up in the wrong crowd and fauxed having the license to practice law. The love story you get is the reason it’s on this list and why it’s ranked lower, but all in all this was a good show and one of the few exceptions to a non romance focused show.

#10. Suspicious Partner

The only reason this doesn’t have a pic is because I can only use ten and I gotta figure which would need one and which wouldn’t.

To start off, this show is fucking hilarious with the cast dynamic. It was like what, 40 episodes? I didn’t realize I needed a prolonged show until this came along. At times, it seemed like the main plot was dragging and I was reminded of why I prefer typical kdrama fashion of a one season within 12-32 episode limit, but it made up for it.

Yes, yes, Ji Chang-Wook, the god of kissing, stars in this. My first introduction to him was actually Melting Me Softly and because of how he did in acting with what he could, the emotions he portrayed, I sought out another show of his pre-military duty. God, he fucking serves in glasses and a suit. His character’s jealousy regarding Nam Ji Hyun (his romantic interest) and Choi Tae Joon (Ex best friend, slow burn, exes to friends to platonic lovers that’s one sided while the other can’t stand him, 35k words) instilled the notion that he is fucking funny as hell when needed and such a mood. You want to see the (not even romantic rival bc Choi and Nam are best friends) spraying with a water hose on your lead’s rival? Want to see a hot guy like Ji Chang-Wook panic and try shoving him out of the house when the girl catches them working out? It’s gold.

The feud with the moms -granted they didn’t realize the knew they were the mom’s of the leads-, the slow burn of enemies to friends with the girls, the redemption of a broken friendship, the crackhead and large old baby played by Lee Deok Hwa and the poor father figure who is tired of everyone’s shit portrayed by Jang Hyeok-jin. It’s everything you need for at least a week. It’s possibly a great starter show to ease one into the fact that most dramas don’t hold to that many episodes.

The romance is great, the fucking pining on Ji Chang-Wook’s side is great, the kissing scenes are fucking one for the history books, and you’re guaranteed to be giggling to yourself in several scenes.

Oh and there’s like, a serial killer but yeah, romance!

#9. What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim?

The reason why it’s not so high on my list despite being popular is quite possibly some of the side cast.

While Park Seo Joon and Park Min Young severed as a fucking power couple and their tandem dynamic was strong as hell, there were characters who made the show’s story seen to drag out despite it being 16 episodes (see what I mean by usual number??). For one, we learn that a brown haired Lee Tae Hwan is not gonna make for a silent crush in this show. No, brown haired Lee Tae Hwan just gets on your nerves and despite it being purely because his character is mentally blocked in this twisted memory, he forces the main character into staying isolated within his own pain and nightmares from what really occurred when they were children. He lies to his family, keeps it hidden from those who are close to him and love him, suffers alone. It’s what keeps him away from chasing after Secretary Kim besides his egotistical personality -which I never thought could be so great but it is. The main character’s brother in his endless pursuit to chase at Secretary Kim himself starts to gnaw on your chill as you watch him subconsciously force this notions that they’re tethered to one another, deserve each other, etc. While you can’t entirely fault him for how he is given the psychological trauma he endured, you can get annoyed with him very easily for the other accounts and purposes.

The side story of the roof top guy with the one suit -I’m sorry, he’s great in 2PM but I can’t stand him in about every drama he’s in- and the seemly rookie girl become more of an obstacle when you just want to watch the main focus. The driver of the main character is hilarious but his romantic interest is over the top at times. Sometimes it just takes away from the show.

#8. Hotel Del Luna

Ah, I wish I could’ve put a pic.

To kick this off, can we like get a spin off with Kim Soo Hyun? Thanks.

FINALLY, A FUCKING FEMALE LEAD I STAN COMPLETELY AND WOULD WATCH EVEN WITHOUT YEO JIN GOO THERE FOR A ROMANTIC INTEREST.

This bitch, IU, fucking slays in her role as a hotel owner for the dead before the leave for the after life. Everything she does is iconic -yes, the fucking cocking of the rifle, the child like smile seeing diamonds, blessing the poor boy with the ability to see the dead then let him get chased per her own amusement before business. I really would’ve watched the show even if there was no romance. Whether it’s modern times or her orignal lifetime before being condemned to a life of immortality hell and aimlessly running a hotel, she makes for a strong lead. Her reasons for wanted to avoid love seemed so valid compared to other female leads who completely brush guys off. She doesn’t want love, and yet she doesn’t want anyone else touching Chan Sung (Yeo Jin Goo) because she’s not dumb enough to let go of something that makes her feel alive. While her character is legitimately described as cold and greedy, her intentions for holding onto him reveal an insecure part of her that’s been tucked away for centuries. His dedication to the hotel and her, to helping the ghosts move on and such, it’s great and makes for a binge full night.

It’s only ranked lower because the ending sadden me when I realized it was him picturing how they would meet one another again. And because they teased us with Kim Soo Hyun, like that’s cruel.

#7. Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (aka Goblin)

Tbh, this show would be lower if it weren’t for the Reaper and Sunny, as well as Deok Hwa.

I’ll probably get a lot of hate for this, but I couldn’t stand Kim Go Eun in this. I’ve watched her in Cheese in the Trap and thought she was good and stuff, but this I found myself growing annoyed and glaring at the television while my mom preached upon her behalf. The goblin was funny, his dynamic and weird polar friendship with the Reaper is quite possibly what really made the show, but I failed to see the spark between them until the time skip. Then, THEN, I could tolerate her a bit better.

Maybe it’s because she was protraying someone around my age in high school, but she went from this independent and driving girl to someone who became too needy and clingy. She acted like a little girl in front of a crush when she could’ve handled it more marturely with the said maturity she showed before meeting him. Granted, I know she had a very difficult home life after her mom died and she saw ghosts everywhere, and her living with the Reaper and Goblin was like this warm family she felt safe in, but I just couldn’t. Her endless pursuing of the Goblin got on my nerves and she would get upset, but then again did she ever act like an adult and do the most natural thing? Aka sit down and discuss the whole situation.

“If you’re comfortable, can you tell me why you think I’m your bride?/Why is there a sword in you?/What happens if I pull it out?/ What do you want me to do?/etc”

No, instead it was a constant “I’m the goblin’s bride”, “I’m your bride”, there was this bratty entitlement laying underneath the cutest exterior that was so apparent for someone my age, and I got pissed when she admitted to have seeing the sword the first time around. Like this man has been in total agony for fucking forever and you strung him along hoping for the possibility that you may be the key to him finally getting the ending he thinks he’ll get. It was selfish, she didn’t even know him but insisted on seeing how to be his bride. She should’ve stepped back and thought the situation out carefully. It wasn’t until that blessed time skip that I started to like her better. She wasn’t a kid then and became mature like she needed to be. There’s the need to flaw a character, but her’s was always biting at me.

Oh yeah, Sunny and the Reaper are the true couple in this story and their love that’s star crossed in two lives really hits you. There was more chemistry than the main couple, there was confusion in flirtatious banter, there was stupidity for first time romance against a tired experience woman, there was the hidden history that they both remembered after the time skip. The angst, the pure acceptance, the guilt and remorse. They made the fucking show alongside the Goblin and Reaper’s bromance and Deok Hwa’s “I just want a credit card and to be irresponsible but these two dumb fucks keep almost revealing their true selves to the world and I’m fucking done with these children”, on top of God taking his body as a vessel and becoming 10x cooler with that hairstyle while drinking with Fate (such a badass who loves her children I can’t, I stan the side character too).

#6. My ID is Gangnam Beauty

Oh my god, my introduction to Astro. Cha Eun Woo (aka Lee Dongmin). My god, if it weren’t for my mom, sister and I officially ruling Cha Eun Woo as god tier in terms of looks and making him this untouchable bias we can’t have, I would have never let this adorably hot as hell dancer and rapper distract me. Really, I kept wanting to be distracted by Rocky but I felt like I couldn’t miss the visual god in the front. Blessed I finally was able to divert my attention to the one I wanted to watch so very much and became my bias wrecker. Mom loves Moonbin like he’s her own son and we’re not her children, sister loves MJ’s psychotic idiocy.

ANYWAYS, the female lead, Kang Mi Rae, was stiff as hell when watching it a second time around and at times, knowing their age gap can be bothersome, but it was a cute slow burn of her and Cha Eun Woo’s character, Do Kyung Suk (sounds badass too, doesn’t it). While he appeared stiff as well, probably could’ve played a robot if he wanted to, I felt like he did well portraying his character who grew up in a dysfunctional house where their political father’s position took presidence over family. He was taught it was unmanly you cry, he never smiled (idk how Cha Eun Woo did it, this cutie never stops smiling or laughing), he never spoke up, etc. He appears socially handicapped until Mi Rae appears back in his life and he slowly let’s go of this anger as the story progresses. She learns she doesn’t have to be so self conscious about her plastic surgery or who she used to be because he loves both.

The villian of this story was well thought out (only kdrama where my dad actively participates in the discussions because he hated her so much and says her name with such spite while bragging he knows at least one Astro member so that’s his “idfk what a bias is but I’ll go with the Gangnam kid”). She brought the tension and there was the window to pity her and realize something was most definitely wrong in a tragic way. She sought after Kyung Suk like a prized trophy when he didn’t express interest, stepped inbetween blooming relationships, set boys off a progressive course away from her, and turned one kid psychotic. That was just with her obsession to have the boys fawn after her; completely disregarding her endless efforts to knock Mi Rae down a peg or two in meticulously planned schemes. She was incredibly smart and cunning, it can’t be denied and she drove them closer together in spite of her tries to wedge between them.

Really, this made me wish that the Webtoon True Beauty that’s supposed to get a drama adaption will cast him as the main male lead Suho. It’s almost similar but Suho seems more dimensional and expressive and I feel like he would truly shine there.

Stan Astro.

#5. Extra-Ordinary You

Ah, this one hurts me. @macaknight, just watch it.

This is a young love one and one of the few that’s not absolute cringe worthy. Set in high school where yea, there’s drama and it’s in Asia so there’s that weird “all mighty and supreme group that conquers the school” called the A3, a girl (Kim Hye Yoon) with a heart condition learns she’s a character in a manga -doesn’t realize she’s not the main one tho and that’s hilarious alone. She finds a focus with this unnamed student who stays in the background and shadows (portrayed by SF9’s Rowoon). The girl, Eun Dan Oh, is someone to worship and cherish, especially since she’s so young and very promising. I thoroughly enjoyed her character and how her efforts to derail the natural progression of the story with the catalyst of student number 13, later on Haru. There’s so many fucking twist and turns, characters to let your heartbreak for as you wish to adopt them and protect them from the world, it all hurts so much but in a masochistic against yourself kind of way you can’t let go of.

Those who are aware they’re in a comic book, they all struggle to break their “character’s” roles and expectations. The second male lead of both the drama and the drama’s manga is sick and tired of playing the violin and being this unrequited love interest that’ll lose in the end, forever the friend. Dan Oh is livid she’s expected to die from her heart disease and is forced to endlessly pine for her childhood fiancé Baek Kyung who is a complete asshole to her while in character. Number 13/Haru is tired of being an unnamed background character who continuously suffers and gets toyed with by the author. Dried Squid Fairy lunch maker is sick of how he must remember shit that’s kept a secret as he tries in vain to keep the story on track to avoid repeated mistakes and consequential devastating punishments to those who don’t follow the storyline. Yeo Ju Da (the main character of the manga) wants to experience the love story she wants without the drama. Baek Kyung want to prove himself and that he genuinely cares for Dan Oh but is forced to be an asshole because that’s how he’s written.

It’s a fucking mess and it’s fucking fantastic. The friendship of A3 (Lee Do Hwa the vionlist, Oh Namju and Baek Kyung), Lee Do Hwa and Dan Oh’s powerful best friendship after being self aware and confiding in each other (honestly I want a drama with just two of them, they’re so cute and funny together), the A3 that happened outside for those self aware between Dan Oh, Number 13/Haru, and Do Hwa where they all genuinely care for one another, Dan Oh’s acceptance that her manga best friend is a bitch but nice to her and the male lackey of their group is funny, etc.

I didn’t think another self aware comic book character show could happen without ripping off W-Two Worlds, but it did. They did it.

#4. Angel’s Last Mission: Love

That song that goes “It’s alright, it’s alright” in a sad melodic way? Yeah, they play it when it’s not alright.

This show has heartbreak galore, even in the first episode for numerous reasons. They don’t want you to be alright for the most part and yet our sadistic selves can’t help but suffer through it. L’s portrayal of being an angel is such a gift, I didn’t know I needed it. I was dead set on living my life until I saw this and felt myself crumble to bits.

You want sacrifice? You got it. Tears of cute boy and a girl who can’t catch a break? Check. Plot twists? Lmao, it’s a kdrama. Yea. Angst and hurt? Fuck yep.

While you’re at it, listen to the song too so you can suffer some more.

#3. Descendants of the Sun

THIS WOULD BE AT THE TOP IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE FACT I AM COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH THE FIRST ONE AND THESE TWO GOT DIVORCED IN REAL LIFE. I still wish the best for them and their child. I still hurt but love them.

So much fucking chemistry and angst, so much hurt and wounds (it’s legit a show with a military background and characters), so much cool fight scenes and surgeries. Their soundtrack slaps, the backstory of characters really set the tone to their current stories, shit overlaps somehow, the female rivalry is hilarious, the cat and dog friendship of the male leads warms my heart. They have such iconic stills and scenes.

The main leads connected so fucking well they got married in real life (we don’t talk about the end result, I’m still crying but I get it.) This kdrama is probably one of the staples to korean dramas in general.

Another female lead I really liked as well as the second, I just struggled at times with Song’s character at times because of the pain she put them both through.

#2. W-Two Worlds

This is my go to for recommending korean dramas to someone for the first time -I got an ex hooked on it that he cried several times throughout it/life 1/4 of the varsity boy’s soccer team has seen this because of me.

This is the comic self awareness show that I didn’t think could be redone, but kudos to you Extraordinary You, you created an orignal that breaks my heart.

This show hurts so much as well, I don’t watch them if they don’t hurt in one way or another.

Lee Jong Suk stars as the main character (Kang Chul) who is also the main character of his own comic book he stars in. The issue is that he’s self aware and that there’s something wrong with his world and life. His webtoon/manga creator is trying to kill him because having his creation alive is driving him to insanity and was the only comfort when he pushed his family away for his career and alcoholism. The creator’s daughter is alerted that her father went missing while cooped up in his room while drawing Kang Chul’s death and end to the manga without a resolution to his storyline (Think of a korean Batman without the suit and brooding personality). Plot twist that’s in the synopsis, she gets pulled in by Kang Chul inside the comic and can come and go if it pertains to him because he controls it without realizing.

You have a main character who is written as this playboy orphan and sole survivor of his mass family’s murder that questions his existence and purpose BEYOND how we do. He meets this girl who speaks almost cryptically to him without realizing and knows more about him than needed or given, and now he’s experiencing oddities besides the notion of love that he can’t understand because it’s not how he is written and the glitches in his world.

This show is twisted in a psychological sense that messes with a comic character who is now alive and real, fucks up the mentality of the creator, puts the daughter in an immense amount of stress when she was just trying to be a fucking surgeon, yes, black haired Lee Tae Hwan is crush worthy in this unlike brown haired Lee Tae Hwan in Secretary Kim. (It’s the hair, you change the hair on a character and everything is different).

The exploration of what love is that works alongside the devoting dark plot of the culprit murderer really drives this show as well as the couple’s endless efforts to save/protect one another in any means necessary, even if they both suffer from it.

These two truly can’t live without one another and it shows with all they do for each other. There’s nothing they wouldn’t risk to keep one another in their arms.

And Lee Jong Suk delivers his share of being one of the King of Korean Drama Kisses as well, gif saving worthy and iconic ones as well.

#1. Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon

Park Hyungsik. Park Hyungsik. Park Hyungsik. Park Hyungsik.

Need I say more?

We stan Park Hyungsik’s character, Ahn Minhyuk, in this blog. We basically stan Do Bong Soon as well for how happy she makes him.

This is possibly totally bias but this is one of my two white noise korean drama shows that I continuously find myself rewatching time and time again. And that’s saying something since I only have one white noise show that’s in English. Three shows total.

People had issues with the script and what the actors had to say, but for the most part I thought the love story and the rival one was pretty well written, then again I kept watching different translations on different sites. So I wasn’t bothered at all. People also didn’t like the side characters and stories regarding the sketchy well dressed gang she hospitalizes in the first episode that stuck around until the last but I felt it was important to have them to prove how having Bong Soon in their lives can change a person and how she has this affect on people overall.

My god, the love story. Bong Soon has this massive crush on police officer and high school friend she was sweet on, Guk Doo, who doesn’t seem to acknowledge her feelings and is all about protecting the law and stuff (I can respect, I’m a LEO kid). He isn’t aware of her abilities of being incredibly strong and nearly indestructible. Nah, instead, CEO of AIN Software, Ahn Minhyuk, accidentally finds out and is like super chill but excited and curious about it and her??

He hires her as his bodyguard in the mist of receiving threats regarding his family company and they find an odd balance with each other while Minhyuk falls in love with her so hard, he literally tries to protect HER from danger. He’s so wonderfully extra that it’s no wonder Park Hyungsik and Park Seo Joon are best friends in real life, they both have the ability to play someone so over the top in a cute and funny way that you appreciate it about them. A cutie with a button nose and weird ears decked out in monochrome color scheme and dark sunglasses, whistling as he rides a hoverboard around? Die for 100%. Someone who gets crazy jealous and presents it in a healthily humorous way by dramatically posing to securitygates of his company that open automatically for him? Stan. Wants Bong Soon’s attention while she’s in a room away from him so her opera sings her name loudly and dramatically? Worship.

While it’s hard to watch the slow progression on her end yet the obvious budding of it, it’s understandable since she’s been in love with Guk Doo ever since high school and has assumably never had a boyfriend in hopes that he would reciprocate her feelings. So the second time watching it and stepping back to analyze, I could forgive her.

All the while, Minhyuk making Heart Eyes ™️ at Bong Soon for literally everything she does makes you feel. The way he holds her and treats her like she’s this precious porcelain doll that could break it handled the wrong way speaks volumes considering he knows of her Herculean strength. He openly loves her when he comes to realize what she means to him -which is a lot sooner than you’d think but welcomed-, and looks at no one else but her. The love story probably would’ve also happened faster if everyone didn’t think Minhyuk was gay (that’s a solid fact, I’m not joking), only those close to her and see how he acts/looks at her realize “lmao, he ain’t gay Hunni”. Minhyuk is this cute hottie that girls wish were straight (it’s fucking hilarious) who acts like a complete lovesick dork with Bong Soon. He freaks and spazzes out when she calls him a nickname or acts cheeky with dropping honorifics, speaks aloud to himself of his thoughts regarding her, literally can’t contain himself when she acts cute to get on his good side and distract his anger.

Oh and there’s like this serial kidnapper too so there’s badass scenes of the two working together, power couple def.

Their soundtrack slaps too and you somehow end up vibing with it. The song You’re My Garden on it, I learned to sing it because it’s one of my top favs.

They’re just the cutest with their hamster and puppy dog relationship. It’s my go to show and I won’t stop watching this. It’s so obvious how Park Hyungsik grew to fall in love Park Bo Young (that’s a legitimate fact) when filming and their bts cuts are too cute, I wish they were dating in real life.

(Also, we have another King of kiss scenes -to those who watched this drama already, you know the scene, iconic 🔥🎼)

[leanncar]

Good omens and queerbaiting?

I swear if I see another post criticizing the crowley and aziraphale (TV) dynamic and comparing it with the blatant queerbaiting being done with johnlock in BBC sherlock im gonna fricking strangle a fish!!!!

Now listen to me. Johnlock is my lifeblood and pretty much the source of half the joys in my life over the past decade, but what they did with the show by the time it hit s3 was just plain FOUL. They deliberately inserted these intense moments of closeness between the two men all the while both characters in-show and actors and showrunners were denying that they were anything BUT best friends.

Good Omens has a totally different take. Crowley and aziraphale have that natural dynamic borne out of their 6000 years of close association. We’re talking about eternity here. If you’ve been in any sort of a long-term relationship you’d probably know what I’m trying to get at here. That eventually there’s just these intimate interactions that spring out naturally without need for initiation nor acknowledgement. And after a while it just becomes a part of you. Now multiply that feeling over the span of over a thousand lifetimes. THAT’S the ineffable husbands dynamic.

What I’m getting at here is that crowley and aziraphale saying they are “Best Friends” has a drastically different connotation from the way john and sherlock say they are “Best Friends”. With Johnlock, they intentionally say it to dispel assumptions that they are in a romantic entanglement with one another. Heck, John even goes so far as to get married to a woman to prove it.

When it is mentioned that crowley and aziraphale are “Best Friends”, it was never with the intent to deny any romance between them. They say it simply because it’s true and their Best Friends dynamic is what is really at the core of their relationship. Their major obstacle wasn’t exactly that their respective sides wouldn’t allow them to fall in love. What hindered their relationship was that they were strictly forbidden from being friends in the first place. Which is what makes the “Best Friends” tag so important for them, because when they say it you know that they’re doing it in complete defiance of what is expected of them. The love and the romance was born as a result thereof.

When there’s a relationship that’s been drawn out this intensely for this long, it’s just natural to do things. I don’t mind that they never mention in the show that they’re in an actual romantic relationship or whatever because guess what? Life doesn’t actually work that way. Idk how it is with Western cultures, but I was able to identify with their dynamic as an Asian person, where in our society we don’t like to flaunt our romantic partners very much. I’ve been with my partner for quite a long time now but I still find it weird to refer to him as my “boyfriend” when I’m talking about him with other people so instead I just call him “a friend” or “close friend”. And I think I love zira and crowley even more for it because they never had to SAY anything. Instead, everyone (except perhaps for Shadwell) just knew. And that whenever people did notice it was never a big deal. This also wins some more points for me as a somewhat asexual person because I LIVE for nonsexual romantic tension! This clearly shows that soulmates shouldn’t need to prove themselves to others by kissing or having sex just because it’s what society expects them to do. They can just do the things they think the other would like and are happy to do. And it pains me to see many people on this site rejecting the show because they do not kiss. Because there’s so much MORE to being in a relationship than just kissing and sex. A relationship is about trust and choice--about having the free will to walk away from it anytime but choosing every day to stay with your partner despite the many hardships, their many flaws, and the habits they have that just drive you nuts. It’s about sacrificing your time and your comfort to be of service to them in their time of need. And THAT’S the dynamic that is extremely underappreciated with these two that not even the wettest, noisiest kissing scene could match up to (though of course if they did want to kiss or have sex that would be welcome, but I’m just saying that it shouldn’t be a prerequisite for persons in a romantic arrangement).

So for those of you who are scared of watching the show because they might be queerbaited, I hope you still watch it (as it is a brilliant show and book) with this perspective considered and I swear you will not be disappointed.

[justkeeptrekkin]

Prompt if you wanna: Some fake!dating maybe they have to go undercover for hero work?

anon do you know how hard it was to not write a 80+k slow burn friends to lovers fic here? I’m such a ho for fake!dating. THANK you for this blessed ask. 

“We definitely, absolutely should not make-out in plain sight in the corridor of a villian’s penthouse apartment.”

Hizashi says it, but he very much does not mean it. He grabs Shouta’s face and kisses him again like his life depends on it. 

Which it sort of does.

Twenty minutes earlier.

The piano music sounds distant and strained in Hizashi’s earpiece. The laptop screen shows a sea of people who, for anyone who wouldn’t know any better, seem upstanding- if not also unnecessarily rich. The charity-event pretence is a clever disguise, but it didn’t fool everyone.

It had been Nezu’s idea to organise an undercover infiltration; with a little research, Hizashi discovered that several suspects for one of Tsugauchi’s biggest cases would be attending this party. Not that he should know about such things, but it’s hard not to pick up the facts when the police leave them around so lazily. Now, Hizashi sits in a storage room downstairs, Nemuri perched beside him on an upturned mop bucket. They both listen, watch the party roll ahead with all the glitz and glamour that would be expected for its absurdly wealthy guests. Prosecco, fancy looking finger-food, music, all set in a penthouse apartment in uptown Mustafu.

It looks like way too much fun.

“Why the hell is Shouta the one who gets to undercover?” Hizashi whines, leaning his chin heavily on his hand and watching his best-friend-who-he-most-certainly-doesn’t-have-feelings-for stand awkwardly amidst the crowd. “He’s literally the last person to ever appreciate this sort of thing, man, it’s so un- ooh, look, they have vol-au-vents-”

Nemuri shoves him in the shoulder, a reminder to concentrate. “I don’t need to tell you why, you know the answer.”

She folds her arms across her chest. She’s wearing a dress that is entirely too revealing for it to be a convincing disguise; even with the blonde wig, Hizashi reckons she’d be recognisable anywhere for her chosen style. Hizashi, meanwhile, is wearing red contacts, has temporarily dyed his hair black, and has been forced against his will to shave off his moustache.

He’s still bitter about that.

He sighs and drums his hands rhythmically against the bucket he’s sat on. It turns into a tuneless rendition of Down Under by Men At Work and Nemuri nudges him again.

“Can’t hear.”“Sorry.”

Shouta sighs into his earpiece. He’s always the one to go undercover since he’s still not that recognisable, despite his brief foray on national television. Hizashi and Nemuri, however, are. The only reason they’re dressed to the nines is for if  back up is needed.

Truthfully, Hizashi thinks the only reason they didn’t send him down is because they think his acting is too good.

“Eraser. Shou. There are crab cakes going by. Put one in your pocket for me.”Nemuri unsuccessfully muffles her laughter, and Hizashi thinks he can see the entire camera on Shouta’s lapel move with the extreme-sighing that he’s displaying.

“Shouta- the crab cakes! The crab ca- goddamn, why do you hate me so much, dude? No free food for your handler?”

“Stop distracting him,” Nemuri says, but there’s no sincerity and she’s laughing through the words. “Oh, we’ve got Suzuki at two o’clock, Eraser.”

The man of the hour; Tsukauchi’s prime suspect. A multi-millionaire bordering on billionaire with an intelligence quirk- a man who handles complex mathematics and probability as easily as ABC. Unsurprisingly, suspected of using his abilities for embezzlement and fraud. Worse, believed to be funding several underground villain organisations. He’s dressed in a fine black suit, so simple and understated that it screams this cost more than you’ll ever earn in your lifetime.

Shouta makes his way over.

Hizashi’s leg starts to bounce up and down nervously, making the adjacent shelf of cleaning products rattle. Shouta is able to remain deadpan in almost any situation, making him ideal for undercover cases- and he can be surprisingly good at improvisation. But there’s also something about his reserved exterior that makes villains suspicious of him. Now, as he winds through the party towards one of the most intelligent suspected villains that they know of, Hizashi can only watch and advise into his ear-piece with a growing sense of anxiety.

“He’s already drunk,” Hizashi observes for Shouta’s benefit, examining the slight dribble of prosecco down the collar of Suzuki’s priceless suit. “This guy isn’t usually the messy type. And he’s talking to people he doesn’t know, judging by his phone contacts, so he won’t push you away.”

Shouta hasn’t even arrived at the small cluster of people yet before Suzuki’s eyes fall on him, double take, and settle there. And there’s something in the way the shallow smile and calculating look melts, the way it shifts into something possessive. It makes Hizashi growl angrily down Shouta’s earpiece. Hizashi is painfully aware that Shouta cleans up very nicely, it’s unsurprising for others to notice this too, but-

“Reel it in, Mic,” Nemuri says in a low, teasing voice that makes him shoot her a hurt look. Shouta doesn’t know anything about his feelings, and she’s certainly not meant to be making it even more obvious than it already is.

The fact that Suzuki’s attention has changed so suddenly to the approaching stranger isn’t lost on the other guests, and they move their conversation elsewhere. Suzuki leers, starts making small-talk with Shouta and Hizashi feels immediately sympathetic. He’s always struggled with such things.

When the conversation shifts onto Suzuki’s quirk, and thus, complex mathematics, Hizashi starts to worry.

When he laughs and lays a friendly hand on Shouta’s forearm, he gets pissed.

Removing his mouth piece, he says to Nemuri, “I told you I should have been the one to go in.”“Hizashi, you’re our linguist, you’re only ever the one to go undercover when-”

Hizashi stands up abruptly, knocking over his bucket-seat and smoothing down his incredibly dull grey suit. He wishes they’d let him go with the purple. “I’m going upstairs.”

Nemuri grabs him by the arm. “Hizashi this does not qualify as an emergency, if you think he needs advising, advise. From a distance. That’s why you’re his handler-”

“Yo my dude, my pal, you’ve gotta chill.” Hizashi spins round, rests his hands on Nemuri’s shoulders, and tries to convey as much confidence as possible. “I’m going whether you like it or not. I’ll try not to scream at him, but I can’t promise anything.”

He leaves the storage room and ignores the sound of Nemuri calling after him.

Five short minutes later he finds himself winding through the crowd, offering smiles here and there. He manages to swipe a crab cake and stuff it in his mouth, expertly swallowing it before plastering on a grin and taking Shouta’s side.

Shouta’s eyes zip over to Hizashi, assessing his presence and staring perhaps a little longer than is wise. He can see the question in his eyes even if no one else can. Hizashi doesn’t give him the chance to come up with a story; he was always better at that.

No matter what Nemuri says about his acting.

“Sweetie, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Shouta doesn’t react. In fact, his entire lack of response and the following, gaping pause is pretty suspicious. Hizashi bursts into an unfamiliar laughter- it’s his posh-party laugh that he and Nemuri have always enjoyed practising, head thrown back, hand on chest. He clings onto Shouta’s arm. “I thought I’d lost you at the drinks table, I turned around and suddenly you’d disappeared!”

Shouta’s chest rises as he takes a steadying breath, mouth falling open to speak, but nothing comes out. 

The smile Suzuki gives Hizashi is courteous. “It seems he’s lost for words. Suzuki Reo.”

Hizashi takes the hand that’s extended and shakes it with a lot less enthusiasm than he ordinarily would. “Oh, charmed, I’m sure,” he says smoothly.

“Charmed I’m sure,” Nemuri repeats mockingly into his ear piece.

“And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Hizashi’s brain falters. He hadn’t come up with a name for himself.

“Regina Falange.”

There’s a surprised snort at the other end of Hizashi’s earpiece, followed by uproarious cackles. And: “Mic please, honey, oh my god you might be smart but you’re a shit actor, you’re going to get all of us killed-”

“What an interesting name.”“It’s European.” He tries to fight off the temptation to end that with a questioning inflection: Is that believable?

“Fascinating.” He doesn’t sound all that fascinated.”We were just discussing my quirk, how awfully self-centered that sounds.”“Suzuki-san has a mathematics quirk.” Shouta supplies this quietly, almost conspiratorially, leaning towards Hizashi as he says it. He’s wrapping his arm around his waist. Hizashi’s heart stops, before he remembers that he started this we’re-a-couple charade and he really shouldn’t be acting so flustered by it.

“I was just telling your partner about Zeno’s arrow paradox, but I’m afraid I may have lost him.”

Hizashi looks down at Shouta. Shouta returns the look.

“Oh, that sounds very complicated,” Hizashi says sweetly. “I’m sure I wouldn’t understand.”

Shouta narrows his eyes. He knows this game and he’s never liked it. Hizashi, on the other hand, lives for it.

“Ah, it’s simple really,” Suzuki says, his smile apparently genuine now. This is a man who enjoys to show off. And a man who enjoys to show off is a man who lets information slip. “Imagine an arrow at point A, and the target at point B, and in the course of reaching B the arrow must travel at least half that distance, which we can call point C. In getting from C to B, the arrow must travel half that distance, which is point D, and so on. But once you realise that you can keep dividing space forever, paring it down into smaller and smaller fractions, you come to see that the arrow, in fact, can never reach point B. Mathematically speaking, therefore, there is no smallest number- and no limit to greatness. Infinite everything.”

He concludes this unnecessary exhibition of his intelligence with an almost disappointed look in his eye, staring over Shouta’s shoulder.

“‘You must therefore confess that all that exists is not unique, but rather of number numberless’.”

Hizashi rattles off the quote with an air of nonchalance. Shouta glares at him.

Suzuki blinks drunkenly at Hizashi, clears his throat in surprise. “Lucretius said that, if I’m not mistaken?”“Yes.”“You speak Latin.”“I read it from time to time.”

“Hah! You almost had me take you for just another party goer. I’m not often tricked.”

“Well, we have to have our fun somehow, right? You must get so bored with a mind like yours, in a world like this.”

“Oh, it can get me into quite a lot of trouble.”The rapid fire interaction reaches an abrupt pause as both men silently assess each other. Hizashi feels Shouta tug on his suit jacket with a little more force than is necessary.

“Excuse us.”And Hizashi finds himself, without the opportunity to press any further, being directed by the small of the back out of the main reception area and into a quiet corridor. A waiter leans against the wall on his phone, registers their presence, and scurries back into the kitchen.

Shouta rounds on Hizashi, standing close so he can whisper and be heard.

“What are you doing?”Hizashi hesitates, the right words filtering to his mouth too slowly. “I came to help! He was rattling off all this crap about mathematics, man-”

“You’re my handler, you’re meant to stay out of sight and feed me information from a safe distance.”“Is this wh- you’re angry at me? Are you really pissed at me because you think that I’m not safe right now?”“I had it covered. We have a system, you broke it and I want to know why.”

“I-” Hizashi doesn’t want to answer that question. “Why did you pull me away? He was opening up-”

“No, he was getting suspicious. The ingénue act works fine, but only if you don’t prove them wrong. Now he doesn’t trust us and he knows he’s been tricked by you before.”

“OK, but, that’s not. It’s not just that, I mean-” God this is so frustrating. He shoves a hand through his hair. “Fine, listen, I was freaked out because he was being all handsy with you and I didn’t like the idea of you being at the receiving end of some creep trying to flirt with you and he’s a villain so that’s even worse and-”

“Wait-”

He’s vaguely aware that Shouta’s trying to interrupt him, but the word vomit is virtually unstoppable now. “And maybe I just felt like I should be here to mediate or maybe it’s something more, I dunno-”

“There’s someone coming-”

“Maybe I just felt like something was- wait what-?”

Before Hizashi is aware of what’s going on, he feels Shouta grab his lapel and drag him into an abrupt kiss. It lasts only a few seconds, and during the entire experience the inside of Hizashi’s head is screaming. When Shouta pulls away, Hizashi collapses against the corridor wall.

“Whuh,” is all he manages.

“Don’t freak out.” Shouta says it so evenly, like it’s that simple.

“I’m not freaking out.”

“You are freaking out. Someone was coming and you were talking about the mission.”

“Ah- yeah, right, sorry.”“Don’t apologise,” Shouta adds. “I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you.”

And despite having broken apart from their kiss, they’re only inches away from each other. And Shouta is still holding onto Hizashi’s lapel. He’s staring at Hizashi’s lips.

There’s the sound of footsteps approaching.

“We definitely, absolutely should not make-out in plain sight in the corridor of a villian’s penthouse apartment,” Hizashi says reasonably. Before pulling him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, breathing into each other’s mouths and Shouta crowding him against the wall.

Oh god. This is happening. Wait, this is actually happening, isn’t it?

“Boys, as much as I’ve been rooting for you for the past fifteen years,” Nemuri’s voice slips into their ears, sounding quietly amused, “this could not have come at a worse time.”

Shouta pulls back immediately at the sound of her voice and bristles at the reminder that they’re being watched. Hizashi slouches against the wall, feels like he might melt into a puddle on the floor. He watches the way Shouta stares at the ground with a thoughtful crease between his brow. 

“Can we talk about this when we get home?” he whispers.

Shouta opens his mouth speechlessly. Gives a shaky nod.

They regard each other for a long moment, hands still on each other.

“Let’s get back in there,” Shouta says, at last. He looks a little off-centre, which is as ruffled as Shouta gets. Hizashi feels a hell of a lot more than a little off-centre.

Hizashi responds with a grin, and holds up his hand for a high-five. Shouta surveys his raised hand with a weary smile, and obliges.

“Let’s do this.”