#and the two ‘amateurs’ that came before the real act

[hauntedeyes]

i think stand up comedy is soo interesting because what actually makes people laugh? being funny? deliverance? presence? relatability? timing? all of the above? tell me

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[rose-morose]

I want to mention before you start reading this, this isn't a hate post on Arcane or Jinx, so if you're gonna read it please read to the end, though it is a very long read, so you have been warned

look I know it's not a very popular opinion, but I really wasn't a fan of Jinx in the first season of Arcane, I just thought her whole madness arc was uncharacteristically generic and over exaggerated compared to the rest of the show's extremely competent writing, and her character felt very one dimensional and simple

(Arcane season 1 and 2 spoilers under the cut)

after she stopped going by Powder and became Jinx, she just kind of felt like the kooky crazy lunatic archetype with no other facets to her personality

there were moments that kind of made her seem more complex, like some of the early interactions she had with her sister Vi after the time skip, and her relationship with her father figure Silco, and the one scene on the bridge where she was fighting Ekko, but she seemed to only exist in the context of the other characters and wasn't really her own character, to me she seemed more like a plot device than a person

but then season 2 came, and Silco was gone, Vi didn't want anything to do with her, Ekko was off doing his own thing somewhere else, and for the first time ever she was truly alone

and it suddenly felt like Jinx could finally be alone and still be compelling and interesting and have her own growth and development outside of the context of other characters, she could be her own person

she went from over the top stereotypical movie crazy to a person struggling with genuine mental illness, a past filled with trauma, and complex feelings around her remaining relationships with the other characters, characters that she no longer depended on, as well as her self

like when she had the shot on Vi, but couldn't take it, there was a great deal of strife and contemplation on her face and ultimately it was her tear falling that alerted Vi to her presence, this is the first time she didn't seem to have one of those black and white demeanours of unbridled aggression or passive despair that she had often flipped between when interacting with other characters

and Jinx finally formed a real relationship with Sevika rather than just being outwardly jealous and petty but ultimately not behaving like she actually cared that much about her one way or the other, only using her to justify her new initiative, and while they still don't seem to like each other, now there is more complexity behind that unfriendly relationship that allows for nuances like the two working together in the wake of Silco's death, someone that they had both previously relied on for direction and purpose, which was really the only thing they had in common in season one

and the introduction of Isha gave Jinx another opportunity to form a relationship with a new character that required more than one word like "dad" or "sister" to adequately describe it

now Jinx had her own little sister that looked up to her, instead of her constantly looking up to Vi, she actually had to take the initiative and act on her own and allow Isha to follow

I of course hope to see Isha continue to develop as her own character as well, but for now I'm content with her helping Jinx to be her own person

now I said that this isn't a hate post on Arcane or Jinx, and that's because I actually fucking love this show, the writing is brilliant, and now I love Jinx's character too, Silco was my favourite character and I'll admit that I was apprehensive about how the story would unfold without him, but now I really can't wait to see what Jinx and Sevika do in the next two acts of the show

thanks for sitting through another one of my extremely amateur and even more extremely long characters analyses, hope it wasn't too wordy (even though I know it was) as usual I would love to hear the insight of others on the topic, so feel free to reblog or comment your own take and I would love to read it

[danieyells]

Something I wrote on discord, sortakinda for @jadeleechsupportgroup who ships these two and with inspiration from @leatherthorn / @ritsu-shinjo who introduced me to the My Analog Journey youtube channel when I was teying to find music that suits how I interpret Romeo's tastes(leading to the realization that he'd probably like vinyls, with Rep saying that he would swoon over a Victrola, which several people on Reddit have said actually has poor sound quality, leading to this thought lol)

Is it romantic? Is it platonic? Yes. It's whatever you want it to be. It's Tohma and Romeo.

The box Tohma had brought over and gingerly placed atop the VIP room table before Romeo, a gift he'd taken care to inform him he wanted to bring when their schedules would both be open, was carefully unwrapped and excavated, opening to be a record player from a well known brand. Romeo hadn't had a record player since he lived in Italy, and his usual strict mask slipped in favor of pleasant surprise, then a suppressed smirk. Not a bad choice in gift, but he couldn't let his excitement show too much.

"So this is what you wanted to bring over?" He settled back into his Fendi chair, leaning to the side to set his eyes on Tohma who stood with his patient, butler-esque expression and picturesque posture as always. "This isn't something Kamurai was trying to get rid of, is it?"

"Of course not." Tohma feigned offense--anyone with ears knew Romeo didn't think very highly of Frostheim, and he understood that this now applied to him where it hadn't before. "I'm hurt that you would think so little of me. I merely thought of you when I saw it and recognized the brand. I thought it would suit your more classic music tastes."

(In less kind words, Romeo's tastes reminded him of his father. Why so many guys around his age acted like old men sometimes he would never know.)

"Did you now?" Romeo remained sceptical, and Tohma only smiled his customer service smile. "Well then, let's give it a listen!"

Tohma continued to smile at him, though the expression twitched a bit.

"You did bring me records to go with such a beautiful gift, didn't you?" His less patient expression returned with his incredulous, if slightly bemused, tone of voice. Tohma gave a mischievous smile that made Romeo push down the increasingly bubbling irritation at his precious time being wasted. "You didn't just get me this to look at."

"I'm afraid you've caught me." Tohma sighed, though his expression showed no real remorse. "I admit to not knowing your tastes or classical music well enough to invest in records to go with the player." Romeo sighed in disappointment, glaring at him lightly as he continued uninhibited. "I had hoped this would be an opportunity to listen and learn from you, however. I wouldn't want to give you a disappointing gift."

"Caught you? I met you before you started this particular circus act, Ishibashi. Honestly. I can't deal with amateurs. How did they just let you into Frostheim without a second thought?" Romeo grumbled, resisting the urge to touch his face or rub his temples. Tohma only chuckled in apologetic acknowledgement.

"Fine." Romeo scoffed after a silence to gather himself. "These things have awful sound quality for how nice they look anyway." Tohma's expression faltered and he blinked in surprise. So the gift hadn't exactly been good after all despite the brand name--but Romeo hadn't bitten into him right away about it. "I can give you a few recommendations. And next time you can bring me vinyls." He snapped his fingers and one of his underlings came in, beginning to find somewhere to display the record player in the VIP room when he gestured at it.

"In the meantime, we can listen to some music that's more to your tastes. Since I'm sure that SIP would never allow you to do so. This isn't a privilege I grant lightly, so make sure your choices aren't utterly atrocious excuses for music!!!"

"Is that so? You have my gratitude as a guest." Tohma bowed deeply, formal smile back in place. "I'll do my best to learn from this experience as a host myself."

Tohma was sure that normally only Taiga was allowed to listen to whatever he wanted aloud in the VIP room with Romeo--and that surely came with an initial scolding before bearing his uncontrollable partner's behavior. Their tastes were probably similar in some ways, so Tohma presumed Romeo thought he could bear it. He had stuck to more quietly listening to the less elegant music since his transfer, and the idea of enjoying it more loudly for a time wasn't anything he would complain about--although he was tempted to see what he could play and in what succession to get himself kicked out as fast as possible.

But he refrained, taking a seat on the comfortable couch briefly watching as Romeo began working on an introductory playlist to his music tastes for Tohma to work with, before finding some more tasteful R&B to start with. It should be close enough to Romeo's taste for this to potentially be a somewhat fruitful exchange of music, at least.

[hizznbyte]

a crumb of BM lore, you say?... 👁

Ohhh yes… a littlest crumb… actually it’s pretty big but I like you guys so I’ll spoil it anyways.

In the BM-Verse theology, the two Higher-Ups [basically the Gods of BM] created the earliest form of human beings immediately after the last pair of Angelics and Demonics gained sentience. The earliest people were brought to life in batches by the amateur Angelics who were only getting used to their power, so they were a bit disorganized. They would evolve over time and learn how to make of the world eventually, but the lead Angelical -The Evermore- took pity on them and begged of the Higher-Ups permission to aid them. Thus, the Virtues came to the world from small sheets of cardstock

In total, seven Virtues were sent to the world over the course of history. To the BM-Verse the Virtues act as basically the prophets / messengers of the Angelical. Similar to a certain other Abrahamic Religion in the real world…

Each Virtue was “given” to mankind to guide them to worshipping the Higher-Ups and teach them the right way towards evolution. Their whole purpose is linked to overseeing one aspect of humanity they must preach. In this way, the Virtues specialities actually correspond to one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

I can’t exactly explain this well. The Virtue known for Humility oversees the Government/Politics/Leadership of the ancient peoples and is more related to the idea of Pride. Yet he does not act prideful or have a big ego. The Virtue known for Temperance oversees Hunting and Farming/Agriculture and seems to be related to the idea of Gluttony yet teaches not to eat in abundance and only take what is necessary for survival. The Virtue known as Charity oversees the Economy and Banking, so on and so forth.

The Virtue is an honorific indicating title. It precedes the Virtue’s name and can be shortened to V.[Name]. The Virtues do not have any special abilities as they are normal human beings. They are historic figures, with many of their lives having been documented [with the exception of those who came before the invention of writing]. They have traveled all around the world and carried their followers with them, each with distinctive features that would soon become ethnic markings for certain locations. Their stories are told to the people of BM via various scriptures including The Angel’s Grimoire.

After the Virtues passed, they were granted a special spot in the Highest World as part of a council circle, where they would be known as the Overseers. The Overseers would continue their work from afar and live in what seemed like harmony for millions of years until the corruption of The Angel’s Grimoire.

What happens after is a whole other story.

And I’m sure you wouldn’t like to hear about that… would you?

[imspardagus]

Renegades

This is about a company of amateur dramaticals: the Renegade Theatre Company of Ilford. And since a quick Google search, not available in the fifties and sixties, reveals that there are now several troupes calling themselves “Renegades”, I need first to make plain that I refer in this piece to no other company that bears, or has borne that name.

I don’t know if amateur dramatic societies are a peculiarly English, or British, thing but I do believe that during their time the Renegades were exceptional even among the English cadre: exceptional for their dedication, for their range and for their quality. For most of their existence, they presented a different play each month and a unique pantomime every Christmas. For a time, that schedule gave way to an exhausting two plays a month and a pantomime and latterly they regularly offered us a Victorian music hall. To achieve this meant rehearsing three times a week, which, for people with day jobs for whom this should perhaps have been just a bit of extra-curricular fun on the side, was an astonishing level of commitment.

But for the core players it was never so slight as “a bit of fun on the side”. They were dedicated. And in all the time that I was associated with them, whether as audience or as a stage hand or, more briefly, as an actor, I never felt the need to make allowances for their productions. From the moment the curtain rose until it fell at the end, you were captivated, all belief suspended, drawn into the world they were presenting. For the significance of that recollection, let me explain that, for a while during the sixties, I became infatuated (a fairer word would be obsessed) with a girl at my school, Caroline, and that meant trying to go along with her insistence that theatre was phoney and that only film could transport you. For her, the daughter of the then Secretary of the British Film Institute, it was perhaps an understandable conceit. But try as I did, I only had to sit in the auditorium of the Little Theatre as the lights went down and the curtain lifted to be utterly taken over by the play being acted out before me, something a film, with its bloated close-ups and enforced viewpoints, could rarely achieve. In that red plush seat, I may have been taking shelter from a real world that I could not join but, for two hours or so, sanctuary was freely given through the proscenium; and I left it feeling renewed and briefly convinced of my specialness.

The heart of the Renegades was James (“Jimmie”) Cooper, an actor/producer/director of uncertain age whose chiselled good looks could have give Peter o’Toole a run for his money. If there was a lead to play, whether in Arthur Miller’s “A View From The Bridge” or Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice or Hamlet or as Widow Twankey in Aladdin, Jimmie would play it. That was a given. And he could. Always at his right-hand was a woman, Yvonne, dark haired and deceptively fragile who would almost invariably take the female lead, deservedly so. In the sixties I had been bowled over by performances by Judi Dench and Helen Mirren but I swear even a glimpse of Yvonne could steal this poor innocent teen’s heart. Betty did props with assiduous care. Later on, came Jane, who eschewed performance, unless she could be disguised head to foot as a dog or a panda. Jane was serious, always dressed for hard work and dedicated to back-stage perfection. I credit her with quietly challenging all my received assumptions about the role of women as adornments for the pleasure of men. She was practical, could do anything a man could do but was indisputably a woman, gentle, caring and warm-hearted. It was a lesson that has lasted all my life so far.

Jimmie lived in a tiny converted three storey, three roomed building behind Ilford Station. It had formerly been the resting place for a Hansom cab and was still known as “The Stables”. I never saw what occupied the ground floor but a flight of rickety stairs to one side led up to a trapdoor that gave the sole access to the first floor room and this was where rehearsals took place. By first reading, Jimmie would already have selected his cast and copies of the play, hired from a London theatre supplier, would be handed out. I remember the buzz of excitement but also the seriousness with which it was all undertaken. We were not here to play at being “actors”. This was Theatre.

Nothing seemed to daunt them: from Shakespeare to Miller to Priestley to Coward. At the Little Theatre I lapped up Our Town, Arsenic and Old Lace, Blithe Spirit, Desperate Hours, The Anne Frank Story, The Ghost Train, An Inspector Calls as well as Macbeth, Hamlet and A midsummer Night’s Dream and so many others. I was enthralled.

I had become involved with the Renegades in the early sixties when my father, encouraged by my mother, took the, for him, unlikely step of joining in (late in my life I begin to see where my own diffidence came from). He was not one for performing, blaming his severe short sight which left him near blind without his glasses (though this was only truly an excuse for profound shyness: I did see him on stage once, very much against his better judgment, in a walk-on part as a detective inspector), but he was happy to function as stage manager and to operate the reel-to-reel tape recorder in the wings while the others went out under the lights. Being, myself, an unnaturally quiet and reserved teenager, terrified of his generation’s new apparent worldly freedoms, I was happy to be accepted by the group as Frank’s son, and to spend evenings in that loft and weekends at the massive workshop behind Ilford’s then “Little Theatre”, where the sets were prepared and stored. At the risk of cliché (when have I ever balked at cliché?) I felt a thrill run through me whenever I was there or backstage, and even now, nearly six decades on, to walk into a theatre is to feel as if I have been embraced by a very magical other world.

My father would work alongside little Jeff Wenn, a man small in stature but big in heart, with a perpetual fag hanging from one corner of his mouth the curling smoke from which caused him to scrunch up one eye. Jeff’s daytime job was in radio and TV repair. He had a little shop down a side street, packed with valves and smelling of hot wire, solder and tobacco. From him I learned the value of “knowing where to hit it” when the TV picture broke up, which, in those days, it often did. But for the Renegades he worked the lights, effortlessly controlling a bank of fearsome levers and switches and swapping gels on spots hot enough to cook dinner on.

I learned over time the names of some of the now famous people who had passed through the Renegades: Bryan Forbes, John Woodvine, John Alderton and Ken Campbell to name but four. Ken kept up his contact with Jimmie and at least once graced us with his irrepressible presence.

But the bedrock of the group was its amateur players. People from all walks of life who turned out for a chance to perform. Len, who worked in a Barking stationery store before joining the Civil Service, Myra, a seamstress, Brian, a tax inspector, Tod, a chicken-sexer, John, a salesman, Betty, a PDSA nurse, Ray, a tiler, Milton, a curtain maker, and Yvonne, PA for a while to a notorious politician. Some of them adopted stage names: Len became Leonard Charles, Myra became Lila Myra, Yvonne became Yvonne Haesen.

Jimmie’s talents did not end with acting or direction. He designed the sets and the costumes; he chose the music; he chose the cast. It was his life and, somehow, his livelihood. On Saturday mornings, I would watch as he sized and then painted huge scenery flats. Working on these massive canvas and wood flimsies, laid flat on the floor, he displayed an astonishing impressionistic flair. A few sweeps of the brush, which looked random and crude close up, might, under the lights and seen from the auditorium, become a cityscape or a library, a clock tower or a forest. Magic indeed. Only Rolf Harris, of whom, of course, no good may now be spoken, ever did it better.

I only managed to appear on stage in three productions: two pantomimes and the play “Inherit the Wind. That play, based on the “Monkey Trials” in early 20th Century America and written as a parable against Macarthyism in the 1950s, opened my eyes. I was eleven at the time. It must have been 1963. I had just started secondary education at Wanstead Grammar School, as it still was, and my appearance gained me a short-lived fame in my class. I played Howard, a boy around my age who had been introduced to Darwin’s theory of evolution by his teacher who now faced jail for doing so in a bible-bewitched town in the Mid-West. Up until that moment I had been entirely taken in by the comforting fairy tales of the new and old testaments but I came away dissatisfied with them and, in their place, with thoughts I had never had before, thoughts which prepared me some 20 years later to receive gratefully the patient, and finally and powerfully rational, explanations of Richard Dawkins’ Blind Watchmaker. Such is the power of art to foster enlightenment.

Small as it was, I loved that part. I am surprised now that anyone in the audience could hear my lines but I suppose they could – Jimmie would not have allowed it to be otherwise. And, for a brief time, I was no longer my shrivelled self, afraid of what might confront me next, but a part of something certain and compelling. For just four performances, each two hours long, I felt I belonged somewhere.

I try not to fall into the trap of wishing my life had been different. It is not just that I know that for us humans time is a one-way street, a ratchet that prevents us from going back. I am also aware that if I were to change the smallest thing in my past the ripples of change would spread out to affect others, such as my son and daughter, who now have their own lives but who might even cease to exist in the present as a consequence of one tiny alteration. I have no right to do that. But I do have regrets and one of them is that I wish I had engaged more with the Renegades. I see now how much was there to learn from and to rouse this shy, scared boy.

I suppose I should be pleased with how my life has turned out over all but I look at people like Michael Coveney, who, for a time, graced the Company with his already powerful intellect and who has gone on to contribute so much to the world of theatre with his writings and I think how small my life has been by comparison. I was utterly in awe of both Coveney brothers back then. But it did not occur to me to follow their example. I was locked into to my small life, into gaining the approval of my seniors and, above all, into not making a fuss. I had taken to heart my Mother’s stricture that “good manners mean never offending anyone” (which I am afraid I now see as a convenient falsehood).

Jimmie never made it big but he lived life his way and in the process brought joy and the challenge of intelligence to his community. When he died, the Renegades died with him and something was lost that had been of a significance that I think few people recognised. His death opened up a hole that was never filled.

And that I suppose is what all this verbiage wants to acknowledge and maybe celebrate, belatedly. For a while, during a dim and grey time, the Renegades were a bright star for so many to gaze at in wonder and perhaps even follow. And the Little Theatre, their home until it was demolished by a careless, money-grubbing council, lobbied by envious rivals, was its powerhouse.

Go in peace, Jimmie.

[thelanor-s-astame]

EPISODE 2

This one is probably the episode I’m gonna have the least amount to say about. I still hadn't really solidified anything yet. It was still super off the cuff, and still uber amateur hour. But I think it’s a little bit better than the first one. I sorta lock down the flow a lot better in this one. The first bit in particular is really good. And it was a thing that I came up with in, like, the 11th hour that improved the whole thing. I remember needing to pad this bit out a little, I didn’t want to start with him meeting with Cornifer. I wanted him to establish himself a little first. And also it’s kinda funny when quite a bit of the video is me talking to two characters who I also play. Saine locked down the Cornifer voice in this episode. I think this is the first one I directed him in. He gives a real great performance here! Still real proud of the “Yeah money can’t buy happiness, but it can bribe off unhappiness so, yeah it’d help.” line. The dynamic zooms I did here are a little to tiny. This is something I still screw up from time to time. Gotta zoom in quite a bit if there’s only gonna be two cuts! But I always underestimate how much of something I need. Do that shit when I cook too. Just don’t add enough spices sometimes. But I started putting still images over the characters when they’re not talking! Me from two years ago is making little steps forward to give the series a visual style that works!

That’s the thing about these youtube videos that are nice. I can kinda just be really amatureish, screw up a ton, and have people come for the stuff I already know how to do, and just, figure it out as I go along! One of the things I started out thinking was “Is it gonna be a pain in the ass to manually apply a sound filter to every track every time I take damage on screen?” And nowadays that’s the *least* pain in the ass, manual thing I have to do! I can do that shit in less than a minute!

Also all the audio channel stuff whenever hornet shows up before the confrontation, is just me playing around with the sound design of the scene. I will just take any opertunity to do that. I did a deadcells video where I replaced every single sound, with a SSBM sound effect manually, for a joke that lasted 12 seconds. It took like 3-4 hours I just love making the noises go! It makes my brain go brrrr!

Grub Father was the first voice role I ever gave to Flashgen. An absolute shame I haven’t given him more. The dude will come up to be like “So I was thinking about what voice to give the character and I was thinking something like this? Is this good?” And it’ll be the perfect voice and exactly what I’m looking for. Dude never disappoints.

So Zote is very much a “So here’s the obvious bit, how do I make it a little better” kinda character. The obvious bit for zote is the one he is! He’s an obnoxious jackass who’se actually a poor lil meow meow that’s incapable of walking three steps without getting shit on. But will bullshit about being the best and better than you.” What if, instead of bring an asshole, he was passively condescending. What if he *acted* like he was hot shit. And what if he gave convincing performance? That’d almost make him more insufferable. And what if *even still* everyone could see right through him.

So the hornet fight was the first one of these I did. And it’s where I figured a looot of the groundwork for these. Basically I had to be way more dynamic with the camera, hide cuts so I could go forward and back in time, I muted the music and fought her without that, muted the voice sounds (This was a helova first fight because hornet sure does announce her attacks) and I needed to only go in and mute when she said something so you could still hear the attack noises. Then I realized I’d need to manually put in some of those sounds myself because it’s super noticeable when she does an attack and the SFX isn’t there. Whoo boy did this one teach me how to do a looooot of that stuff. And ultimately I’m surprised it came out as good as it did. Especially ‘cus I was on a time crunch with this one. Some of the cuts are a little awkward but still. Like, so much of the fundamentals I do when editing a fight scene I brute forced learning here I’m surprised it has the same flow as the rest of the fight scenes in these videos. Shocking to come back to this one and see how much *did* work.

So, first bit of lore building here. Hornet was a character I already had plans for. She was gonna be the star of the Silksong series. So I already had her pretty characterized as essentially a dumb nerd who didn’t have any friends, spent most of her time alone, talking to herself, and was hyperfocused on combat and combat history. And, thing is, I don’t know all that much about combat history, but I do know about film history! So I just kinda simplified it, replace some names with bug names and was like “Yeah that’s good.” And so that began. I’ve got a very Yes And theory about writing. I’ve always been hugely influenced by The Venture Brothers. The way a lot of that show goes is “Hey we invented this character as a funny joke background character in season two, now it’s season five and their tragic backstory is integral to the plot.” Retcons are boring. Take the thing that was true and make it true in whatever situation. There’s Do not change a character to suit the tone, leave them as they are and have the struggle with the tone. And for gods sake don’t flanderize them. A character grows every second their on screen, and sometimes they outgrow their joke. But it’s okay if they outgrow their joke, the new joke that they’ve grown into is *much funnier because it required that growth*!

And the fighting history stuff I’ll talk more about on episode three because that was then I actually solidified what the story was gonna be.

Also I might get into the dreamers a little bit more there too. But their characters stuck out there. The joke I set up about The Pale King being garbage at sex but that Herrah loved to brag about getting him in the sack is one I planned out *from* this episode. Finally got to see it pay off! Also speaking of Herrah, that was the first time I got Ponk in here! Always does a great job! Unfortunately, she used her Discord Mic here. This one wasn’t a situation where she didn’t have a good mic. She just forgot to use the good one and I completely forgot she is also really into audio stuff too and would jump at the chance to use her fancy stuff. She has been since!

And that’s episode 2!

[the-firebird69]

It sounds like Petty crap like one ship and one death Star but the message came from princess Leia and the download from her and on to the r2 unit and it was with the sand people the same people were killed and they are two units had information from the death Star already and I can't recall when they escapes or if they got it from somewhere else and they're saying that the time frame matches but I thought it was Luke and Leia and they're saying it is and Luke no Anakin was little for real and go through a bunch of stuff before he becomes later and he's not up there yet and that's true the message was to Obi-Wan Kenobi but there's information on that all right two unit the r2 unit I think I can't remember exactly where I think it's really after this

Zues

This movie is all screwed up no I remember what r2 and C3PO were doing why they were in the desert if they came back on the millennium falcon and it's one of a couple journeys in the movie and it was not the moon scene it was a scene with one of the death stars and it got pulled on there but he's saying that's where the fight happened and it doesn't make sense cuz Anna can still a kid when they come back but the new Owen Lars is saying Anakin died as a grave there so might be after he says no because it'll be want Kenobi was kidnapped and disappeared that he just didn't act and disappeared and he's really Jason so he escapes but it's a time frame he says this before the death Star incident but those two robots are doing stuff I got lost in the desert what were they doing

Hera

They were on missions to get intelligence and that's what our to do too is intelligence gathering robot and C-3PO is some sort of linguistics robot which makes a lot of sense to us and she was doing that to her and she's been using again and she's been using him like that and says you have any worried and stuff I got back on track this is just one of your characters she says wow you forgot the whole thing no but okay. So it's working this whole thing but really the question is where were they before wandering in the desert they went on some fact-finding missions intelligence gathering there was successful they went to a couple places not a death star but downloaded some information and it was from a fortress in California so okay you remembers and they downloaded some information they got themselves and uploaded it and it's on basis of stan so he's juicing up with Stan and he gets the data and he goes ahead and tries to erase Jason and he misses for some reason and it was when Luke was heading back left Jason behind and we think that he got hung up with somebody else and the ones he got hung up with he meant to kill them anyways so he went and hit them and then he had to flee and we think it might have been then Kenobi the other one and he was after the information and that makes sense

Thor Freya

This guy Dennis doucette is a menace and her friend hates him doesn't like him he's a lousy person and a lousy actor thinks he can take over his role or job whatever he's talking about you don't think so but he's trying to become a big giant and say that my nephew's not one and all sorts of weird stuff out of that boy's mouth and he hasn't been big yet he's just been brilliant and you're not and we're going to have to get rid of you and there's a lot of people running around my kid is not true this guy is a weirdo and dangerous anything she can take over anybody's job by looking a little like them and saying stupid things I guess I don't know why this happens no I do it's what he's been worried about amateur dummies making mistakes and that's what it is we are going to have to try and stop them and substitute people and so forth we're going to get working on it and he does not want to be stuck with this goofball a****** who gets into it with him for real he's going to take care of him and his picture is there and James Bond which doesn't make sense meaning that I'm actually Roger Moore and okay that could be Ben that would make sense

Stan

He's struggling for his life for these fighting us he's been using these people and like our friend says you really can't use them they're evil and really there at all these hospitals and they're all of these churches and they're all dying and they're idiots they're so goddamn stupid we have to get rid of them now

Ben Arnold

Olympus

[texshire-books]

A tale of two women, a hot sexy short story with no restraint

An excerpt;

‘Have you ever role played?’ Tanya then asked.

‘Some, but a long time ago when I did amateur dramatics, I belonged to a theatre group but I wasn’t very good. They made me a prompter, although I did go on stage once or twice as an extra.’ Tanya couldn’t believe the play on words this disclosure offered.

‘So, you are a thespian!’ Tanya emphasised the ‘are’.

‘I thought that was why I moved closer to you – to find out?’

‘I said thespian, NOT lesbian Katie but you know what you are doing!’ Katie didn’t pursue it and left Tanya to proceed.

‘Ok, let’s role play this scenario. We are two women, both unsure of our sexual orientation. One of those women is going to risk everything, her self-esteem, humiliation, a close friendship even, to find out if the other woman feels the same? The only question is which of us is going to play the role of the woman who makes a move on the other?’ Katie surprisingly had an answer and there was no withdrawing, changing the subject or ducking the issue now.

‘We could toss a coin?’ Tanya knew any change she did have was in her purse and that was on the table in the other room where they’d eaten.

‘No Katie, unless you’ve got loose change tucked inside your thong, you’re not leaving this sofa, this spell is not going to be broken, this is going to its conclusion!’ Katie surprisingly came up with a better solution. She emptied the remaining contents of the wine from its bottle and clearing a space, laid the bottle on its side and spun it. The bottle remained remarkably in place, slowing down until the open end of the bottle pointed at the far wall, away from them both.

‘We could be here all fucking night doing this!’ Tanya now leaned forward and spun it now. This time it stopped with the neck of the bottle pointing towards their touching legs. ‘One more, otherwise I’ll make the decision based on our birthday month. The earlier plays the mover, okay! Katie agreed and gave the bottle a good spin. It stopped pointing directly at Katie. ‘That’s pretty conclusive Ms Williams - come onto me!’  Katie bit her lip; she wasn’t quite sure where to start. She leaned in and kissed Tanya on the cheek, not fast, but she didn’t linger before she sat back.

‘Oh my god, I felt something. That was something else, I’m converted!’ Tanya responded with a unbridled sarcasm. ‘Let’s pretend you didn’t do that, try harder!’

‘Anything? You don’t mind what I do, you’ll submit?’ She asked tentatively.

‘It’s role play, we’re only acting after all. It’s your play and you’re the director.’ This time Katie slid forward and lay across Tanya’s lap, looking intently at her with her piercing blue eyes. She then looked down at Tanya’s short black dress which had ridden up, she placed her hand on her slightly parted legs and moved it upwards until her hand had disappeared and had been halted by something warm and rather damp. Tanya took a sharp intake of breath which increased as Katie now pulled the thin gusset of her panties aside and used her fingers to prise her slippery lips apart.

‘It’s only role play Tanya, we’re only acting. This isn’t for real.’ It certainly felt real when Katie ran her index finger deeper until it found its way into her vagina.

‘Fuck Katie, for a bit part player and prompter, you’re playing an Oscar winning performance!’ Tanya wanted to open her legs wide, in fact she wanted to stop the fucking around altogether and get it on - naked!

‘Just one last place to visit then I’ll stop and ask if I passed my audition.’ Before Tanya could even speak, Katie’s finger was removed and keeping it deep in her sodden trench she moved it up to her vee, where in a single twirling movement she found Tanya’s clitoris. Tanya shuddered, her legs snapped shut trapping her hand but not stopping a finger which continued relentlessly encircling her erect bud, leaving indescribable sensations in its wake.

‘You’ve passed your audition, now let’s stop pissing about and admit we both fancy each other like fuck! Can we do something about our clothes, I feel hopelessly overdressed. Katie slid off, she looked at her glistening finger which she then put in her mouth and sucked dry.

‘I always wanted to taste a woman’s excitement and boy, were you excited. Did you cum? I’m sure I felt you go, something happened didn’t it?’ Tanya had thought she was in charge but there was only one of them in control now. Katie stood. ‘Strip me! Strip me naked, I’ve always wanted to be stripped and made to submit.’ Katie stood glaring, challenging her house guest to fulfil the request she’d just made.

‘There’s me thinking you were shy and withdrawn, running away every time I asked you an awkward question, while all the time you were teasing. Strip you, I thought you’d never ask!’ Tanya was on her feet now, moving around behind Katie who stood with her arms to her side, expectantly. Tanya found the long zip which she pulled right down, she let gravity do the rest. ‘Strip you, fuck, if you’d been paying me, you’d expect a refund.  All I’ve get to do now is find your panties!’ There was an elasticated band round her waist which she stretched. Tanya watched as a slightly less narrow strip appeared from between her plump cheeks. She pulled her panties down and they joined her dress at her feet. Seeing the pattern, the red bow and the wording on her knickers, Tanya stooped and picked them up, her eyes glued to her magnificent bare bottom as she did so. ‘Remove with Care! – I certainly think I did that young lady.’ Katie shivered, she loved being called a young lady as a child and now someone had at last said that to her as an adult. Catherine Daniel nee Williams was naked!

Available on Amazon and D2D

Visit our website texshirebooks.com

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

           Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin​ @moon-light-jukebox​ @thebookamongmen​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @eldahae​

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

Fotografia di Pierre-Ange Carlotti @Phenomena Styling di Tobias Frericks Grooming di Petra Sellge Produzione di North Six

Eddie  Redmayne for GQ Italia 

Eddie Redmayne torna, di nuovo, a fare sul serio Dopo avere interpretato per la terza volta il ruolo di "Magizoologo" nel franchise di Animali fantastici, uno tra i più validi attori di Hollywood, nonché premio Oscar, è pronto ad affrontare la scena nei panni di un vero criminale

di Jason McBride

27 ottobre 2022

in English:

Last summer after playing The Good Nurse and before starting rehearsals for the Cabaret revival, winner of the Olivier Awards 2022, Eddie Redmayne back to school at the very specific and renowned academic institute  l'École Internationale de Theatre Jacques Lecoq, more know as the Clown school, to Paris.

Redmayne took a  course in theatre of the absurd for two weeks where he spent the time to improvise and play.The course was very demanding and the instructors were extremely honest and even strict.

Redmayne’s classmates were between 18 and 60 years old and all came from professional acting background. He was the only one who won an Oscar and the only one  to have starred in a billion -dollar film franchise, he felt like an absolute amateur (dilettante). This was the point, he wanted to start all over again to get naked and try to free  himself from all the tics of acting patterns accumulated in twenty years.

We are sitting in a suite hotel in Toronto, two days after his son Luke, 4 years old, finally started attending his school  in london, redmayne is a caring  parent and he wouldn’t  miss Luke’s first day for nothing to world, but soon he had to fly  to World Premiere of The Good Nurse.

Redmayne it’s been at TIFF five times and he said is thrilled to be back as well as to have the opportunity to face this particular chat “ I’ve never released a real interview” he says “ that of talking about  a movie you really believe in, is a rather rare occasion”

In  The Good Nurse, Redmayne plays Charles Cullen a nurse who killed as many as 400 patients during the 1990s and early 2000s  murdered his victims with insulin and other drug mixes. Today he lives in New Jersey  prison where he’s serving  18 consecutive life sentences. Cullen remains the most prolific serial killer in Criminal History.

Redmayne plays him as an affable  person, dressed in the classic cardigan, a nice guy, so to speak, but sequence after sequence emerges  more devil side “

“Charlie had really two opposites personality in him” said redmayne, who know him described him as “dissociated” and when this emerged his eyes went in different  directions, “ I spent about  three days in the mirror trying to” says laughing Redmayne “ in the end thought f.....and made my version”

The Good Nurse couldn’t come at a better time in redmayne’s artistic career, he had just finish playing the third part of FB as Newton Scamander, and he longed to act on a smaller set “ It was really liberating for me” Redmayne sais” After trying my hand at so many epic and impactful films that can certainly be fun and spectacular, but they make you lose touch with the human dimension and the intimacy of the production process of a cinematographic work”

Redmayne was struck by the script, loved it, much more when he learned that he was directing by Tobias Lindholm “ He has an extraordinary moral sense” says Redmayne  and Lindholm , in turn, has found a precious ally  in Eddie.

“ I think making a movie is like  being the manager of a football team” says Tobias “ and Eddie is definitely one of those players you would want in your locker room for sure on the pitch too, but this  qualities in the locker room are second to none””

When Redmayne learned that Jessica Chaistain would play Amy he was very happy, they never worked together. “ It can be embarrassing to work with friends, a workplace is a particular space, it’s different, you can getalong when you are with your family and then you clash at work”

According to Redmayne  he and Jessica have the same approach in the way to preparing their characters. “You have to do  a detective work, as accurately as possible” said Redmayne” “ then you throw everthing away and try to act alongside someone” 

Eddie prepared himself  on Charles Graeber’s 2013 book of the same name, but also from the material he gave him, interviewa, court documents and this mean to study all the Cullen footage in circulation. The Ideal would have been to speak with him, but it was impossible. Redmayne just had a zoom with Amy, who today is a grandmother resident  in Florida. 

Before plaiyng Cullen, Redmayne hired Reynolds ( Choreographer who helped him to  capture every specific detail of Hawking’s physical deterioration) which helped analyze and then impersonate the characteristic, step and posture of the nurse. “ It was kind of a question mark” says the actor  worked alongside a  vocal coach to refine the slight New Jersey accent.

With Jessica Chastain  Eddie attented a nursing school where they spent two weeks learning how ro effortlessly insert the picc line in the vein and hang  the saline bags.” I was just a total clumsy ironic, you would never want to see me running to your rescue in a moment of crises” 

Such a thorough and obviously tiring preparation takes a long time. Not all actors do this. but in case of Redmayne its’s synonymous of seriousness  and also works like as a lifeboat or safety belt. “ Some need a short runway to take off, “ he explains, “ others need a long ramp, I must have a very long one”

In the book Graeber defines Cullen as self -deprecating and vulnerable, this description also fits stragely on Redmayne, the acotr often mentions never having attended  an acting school, and tends to describe entire career as a kind o happy accident. “ I don’t have specific plan” he says “ I’m just inprovising”

In fact, his words might even sound like a strange form of boasting.  Redmayne started, so to speak, from the top when he was only 11 years old, thanks to a small role in an Oliver production  portrayed by Jonathan Pryce and directed by Sam Mendes, Then, while still at Eton, he played Viola in a Globe anniversary production of Twelfth Night, starring and directed by Mark Rylance.  His first best-known film roles were Hawking and, a year later, transgender artist Lili Elbe in the film The Danish Girl which earned him, at the age of 30, several nominations for the most prestigious awards.  The Theory of Everything, for example, also earned him a BAFTA and a Golden Globe till to win the Oscar.  After these two films he seemed well on his way to becoming the answer of his generation of Daniel Day Lewis Ralph Fiennes

Participation in the 2016 film Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them has in a sense moved him away from that path. Suddenly, Eddie Redmayne found himself in the Harry Potter franchise, a high-budget production with big special effects, with big star like Jude Law, Johnny Depp and Mads Mikkelsen. What kind of preparation is needed to deal more deeply with the role of a Magizoologist? It is not possible to register for a crash course at Hogwarts. Redmayne does not express himself in these terms, of course. When he talks about the Harry Potter spin-off film series, he’s very accommodating and generous. "The moment I accepted to enter that type of universe," he says, "I knew I was ending up inside a mechanism much larger than me. He has given me so much and I have loved acting alongside some of the best and brightest actors in the world. The possibility of continuing to work with them every two years, in an industry that is nomadic and circus, has been an extraordinary experience of continuity ». An undoubted advantage on the human level he says, not necessarily at the level of acting. It has been a fun journey, but perhaps not the ideal place to continue learning. "The thing I'm sure of is that comfort and I don't get along very well," says Redmayne. "So I always try to go beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone." Fantastic Beasts has also been plagued by some controversy of an extracurricular nature: the scandalous views of J.K. Rowling on gender identity, Depp's libel case, the recent arrests of Ezra Miller and a drop in box office results. While Redmayne doesn't want to talk about all of that, the decision to focus on more intimate films like The Good Nurse is the best answer.

During our conversation , Redmayne reflected on his own creative ambiguity, his "cynicism" and "pessimism". When I ask him where this way of feeling comes from, he’s careful not to attribute it to any particular project, but he struggles to identify its true source. "Acting is a strange mix of control and freedom," he specifies, choosing his words. “When you start making a movie, you lose a bit the control . You become a cog. You can work on the script for years, but there comes a time when you have to give up on yourself and that's a complex thing, you know? At best, you do this with someone you trust and it makes you feel completely free. But it doesn't always work like that ».

If Redmayne has always worked hard, he has also, by his own admission, worked little. Now, thanks to Cabaret and The Good Nurse, he probably expects to work even less. "This year has served to make me more demanding," he says, bursting out laughing again. Unlike most artists, he doesn't really know what he'll be up to in the future. However, after finally working with a friend, he would like to do it again. Perhaps with one of his longtime British colleagues, such as Ben Whishaw and Andrew Garfield. Maybe with his Cabaret co-star Jessie Buckley. Or, dare, even in a comedy, the kind of film in which it might come in handy to have attended clown school. «I gave myself a move», he concludes, «and I rediscovered the love for my work that perhaps I had lost a bit».

https://www.gqitalia.it/show/article/eddie-redmayne-intervista

[measureformeasure]

Hamlet @ the Stratford Festival

I had the chance to catch Hamlet at Stratford this year, and oh my God, Amaka Umeh is a force of fucking nature and probably the best Hamlet i’ll ever see in my life. It was overall a very good production despite some Stratford Festival-itis and directed by a man disease, mostly because Amaka Umeh...was on stage. 

oh no, tumblr user lesbianedmund! you cry. i don’t live in canada and/or i don’t have the money to see it!!. fear not. i took copious notes. also it’ll probably be online w/ stratfest @ home, so eventually it may be dispersed to the masses. and you can watch Amaka Umeh do to be or not to be in 2020. it’s amazing. all the details are beneath the cut and there are many.

first off. Amaka Umeh (she/they/he) is the most amazing Hamlet I have ever seen. They are the definitive Hamlet. Why are we still making Hamlets when their Hamlet exists. She delivered monologues in ways I never thought of. She was so alive as Hamlet it was insane. For real I think they’re the best actor I’ve ever seen. Adjoa Andoh type of compelling. I don’t think I can really exaggerate how fantastic he is.

before you ask: no Fortinbras. Gertrude could not see the ghost. Gertrude knew the wine was poisoned. Hamlet’s madness was not really fake. Ophelia did not hear to be or not to be.

overarching thoughts: so much Stratford Festival syndrome acting in this. ie boring as fuck acting. like they’re saying words. they’re even saying the words really well. but jesus christ it’s so boring. it feels so dead and i can’t put my finger on why. hate it

Hamlet was beyond amazing. Horatio was good, Laertes was good, loved the players scene (SOOOO amateur theatre it was perfect down to the ukulele), r&g were good, Polonius i warmed up to, Claudius, Gertrude*, and Ophelia were just so boring, ghost was too standard ghost-y & i hated that. also, I think it didn’t do its women very well

* I saw a Gertrude understudy, and not Maev Beaty, so my Gertrude thoughts might be different than someone who saw the main cast Gertrude

there was really annoying underscoring at some parts, especially the ending. fuck underscoring in theatre i didn’t come to see a movie i came to see a PLAY

before the play started there was a glass rectangular coffin on stage with the dead Hamlet Sr in it. the set had two levels and it’s a thrust kind of stage. on the top level there was two-way glass making a little box kind of deal which could be mirrors or another part of the stage very cool

the second scene opened with the coffin of Hamlet’s father being covered with a tablecloth and Hamlet was standing at the end of it (back to centre audience) and was very upset

everyone gathered around to clink their glasses but Hamlet just leant back in his chair and drank the whole glass. Laertes was wearing a shirt with butterflies on it under his suit? fashion icon

just the way ‘a little more than kin and less than kind’ was delivered was my first clue that this was going to be something absurdly fantastic. Hamlet did the whole thing very obviously grief-stricken. half his lines sounded like he was about to burst into tears and it was just. so. good.

the ‘o’ in o that this too too sullied flesh was so raw. that’s how you do the shakespeare guttural ‘o’ sound. yeah. also the o god! god! was delivered almost like protesting the fixing canon gainst self slaughter part. so good.

Laertes and Hamlet had a secret handshake which was hilarious

Ophelia and Hamlet made out with ophelia sitting on the coffin table which is. something i mean we know that hamlet thinks that’s his dad’s coffin so.

when Hamlet says ‘methinks i see my father’ to horatio, he whips the tablecloth off the table and

IT’S JUST A NORMAL TABLE. NO DEAD FATHER. IT DID NOT MOVE. GOD I LOVE THEATRE AND PRACTICAL EFFECTS.

and then the ‘in my mind’s eye’ was very rushed and Hamlet was clearly stunned by the fact that it wasn’t the coffin.

the ghost was really boring however the super low fog rolling across the steps of the stage looked fantastic. also the ghost of Hamlet Sr. saw Gertrude and Claudius like. making out in the two way glass cube

the Polonius and Reynaldo scene was actually kind of funny! however I think Polonius losing his train of thought should maybe have been sprinkled a little more through the play because my aunt thought the actor just corpsed lmao

Hamlet’s letters were all texts

to overhear Hamlet, Polonius called Claudius and put his phone in his pocket and Claudius and Gertrude went out in the hall. Polonius stood under the top layer of the stage, and then

enter Hamlet above doing to be or not to be. they moved it! wild. 

i reallllllly wish they did more with this. like how worried is Gertrude now? give me more. but super interesting in concept? however ‘Hamlet is a suicide text, it’s time to teach it like one’ has given me strong opinions about ophelia having to be there for the monologue

and then Hamlet went into his fake madness and messed around with Polonius. all of Polonius’ asides were done to the phone in his pocket.

Rosencrantz hit his juul like 8 times during this scene. also r&g and Hamlet had a secret handshake too.

the players were fun. the one guy started doing all the world’s a stage before hamlet got him doing the right monologue

they put this weird little like mic pack on Ophelia’s thigh and then she had a little thing around her neck or ear? so they could listen in?

going to be honest i don’t know why they did this. did you just want ophelia to untie her wrap dress. this is what i mean about directed by a man disease

Hamlet was just so confused about everything and then lashed out it was. ow. dude i don’t think this is a joke anymore ahahah

also when Hamlet said as a crab move backwards he took a selfie with Polonius. that whole bit was so fuckign funny

Horatio filmed Claudius on a phone during the mousetrap

Polonius pretended to be stabbed when he was reenacting being Julius Caesar it was funny he did et tu brute and Hamlet pretended to cut his throat

also the band played that ushering in music they play outside of the theatre (bc stratfest is like that) before the play for the mousetrap except now they have Danish flags on their instruments instead of stratfest ones

the play opened with four of the players on stage one of them playing the ukulele and singing a goofy song it was SO amateur theatre

when Claudius shouted for the lights to come up the house lights came up and it was intermission

Claudius’ ‘my offence is rank’ monologue was done TO Polonius!! he confessed to Polonius! and Hamlet didn’t hear it at all.Cclaudius was clearly kind of torn up about what he did and feeling guilt but he was still boring. lol

Polonius was shot through a curtain and Lo And Behold he was shot in the place where Hamlet pretended to stab him while he was pretending to be caesar

Gertrude also could not see the ghost and hamlet was so distraught

Hamlet was almost apprehended by some guards while he was walking around waving a gun after killing Polonius and he set it on the ground then went BLEH!!! and ran off

in the two way glass box we saw Ophelia discover the dead body of Polonius and she screamed but instead of noise it was like this cool discordant trumpet sound?

Ophelia was so boring. like it was just not. also she was wearing a medical gown and…an ankle monitor?

when Laertes came back he was wearing a puffer jacket and a black bucket hat.

i think he and fanny pack Tybalt from the 2021 r+j would be friends

the first gravedigger had his worksuit unzipped and he had a skull tattoo also the other gravedigger was actually the priest. he was smoking

at the ‘a tanner will last you nine year’ Hamlet and the gravedigger (who are both dark-skinned and playing on the word tanner as in darker not like profession) fist-bumped

alas poor Yorick was delivered kind of sadly at the start? was very very very good

when Hamlet realized the funeral was Ophelia’s he just hugged Horatio for a very long time :((

you know Amaka Umeh is a great actor bc they managed to deliver ‘would eat a crocodile’? as frightening. not a SINGLE PERSON laughed in the whole ass festival theatre.

when the duel was proposed to Hamlet, Horatio kept gesturing ‘no’ and shaking his head

at some point hamlet kissed Horatio on the cheek but i don’t remember where

Laertes accepted Hamlet’s apology and they did their handshake again

also, at the start Hamlet was in all black and now he’s in all white: Laertes was in red, then white and black, and now all black.

Gertrude realized the drink was poisoned and stopped hamlet from drinking, and the i will my lord was super interesting.

also Claudius kind of willingly drank the poison

the final monologues from Hamlet are something i WISH i could just revisit again and again they were so well done. so complex. not just one note i’m dying but fear and wonder and amazement and collapsing and oh god it was AMAZING. Horatio held Hamlet and the final ‘the rest is silence. O!’ was done almost with euphoria? like it was just so beautiful and interesting

it ended with ‘flights of angels’, lights went down for a moment then picked back up in a strobe thing and we saw the shadow of king hamlet and Horatio goes “who’s there?”

what the fuck. what the fuckkkkkk. cyclical nature of tragedy *starts bawling*

it was so good i forgot they cut fortinbras

[gummytoasty]

autumn boy.

NAKED TOASTER X READER 

the time when everything bursts with its last beauty, It was autumn when you first laid your eyes on him. the boy who would always be there watching something from afar on their wheelchair. the changing colour of leaves on the trees, turning from green to a beautiful selection of browns, reds and oranges. It was beautiful. he came like autumn and disappeared when winter came.

you were a young amateur artist who now had an absurd idea of drawing a patient, you thought it was a bad idea but as soon as you came across the hospital, that's when you laid your eyes on him and perfectly at that moment- autumn had started. leaves flew with the wind as he caught your eyes, his blue eyes held tears before he flinched when he finally realised someone’s staring at him. you saw him start moving his wheelchair and went inside the hospital.

“ oh. wow “ you stood there dumbfounded, completely stunned. you were about to grab your sketchbook out of your bag, you felt around your bag for a few minutes before dawning on you that forgot about it.

Room 203. There it is ! you perked up and knocked on the door, you just hoped he’d let you draw him. “ come in “ you twisted the doorknob and went in, your eyes wandered around his room, it was plain. The flowers had dried up and there was his wheelchair beside his bed.

“ what the- It’s you! “

“ i’m – “

“ the pervert yesterday ! “

you started coughing, “ wait no- no. I'm not a pervert. “ he held a disgusted face and stared suspiciously. you took your bag off your shoulder and opened it, held up a sketchbook and a pencil with stickers.

“ I just had a project of drawing a patient. so maybe- you’d let me draw you “ you mustered up the best puppy eyes you could do, “ please. I swear I'll draw you so good. you can go down in history, I’ll be publishing the art at the museum if I’m able to to win the contest. “

The patient on the bed turned towards you and blinked. “You want to… draw me?” he had a faint blush on his pale cheeks, an awkward gaze on the sketchbook you were holding.

you eagerly nodded, “ I swear you won’t regret it “

“I don’t care. You can draw me if you want.” an almost redder blush covered his paleness, it’s almost spreading on the tip of his ears.

It’s been an hour since you started drawing him, he has been awkwardly smiling trying to keep a pose. “ you don’t have to pose. just act like i’m not here “ you laughed at his stiffness.

“ don’t laugh. you- hmph.! “ a silence grew between the two of you, whilst he was reading a book, you drew him, just the calming silence but occasional loud laughter from him between the silence. The bustling noises outside the hospital, in a place where birth and death happened, the two of you are in the middle of just merely existing at this moment.

you traced his features across the pad with a pencil, looking up every so often to compare the drawing and the real person. The feeble sketch isn’t able to catch his beauty. No amount of shading could capture his focused expression, or his indifferent frown, or the small smile that would appear every once in a while or the sunken bags under his eyes. you caught yourself staring for almost a whole minute, you blushed and continued drawing, you didn’t notice the faint smile for a moment that disappeared as soon as you looked up from the pad.

He settled down the book and stood up a bit before sitting down on his wheelchair. “ Come on. the sun is about to set “ you didn’t notice that time had completely flown by, you packed up your sketchbook and pencil and pushed his wheelchair to the elevator.

“ I forgot. What’s your name ? “

“ I’m Toasty “

you stood there with your hands on his wheelchair. for the first time, you saw his features turned into a pained expression as he stared at the sunset. He let out a sigh, “ let’s get back now “ he moved his wheelchair back to the hospital. you stood there for a moment , ‘ why did you have such an expression ‘

“ Can I come back tomorrow?” you asked as you sling your bag on your shoulder, he turned his head toward you. “Can you- what?”

You felt your face heat up, but you kept going. “It’s just- I’m not finished. With the drawing. So could I come back? And finish it?”

He stayed quiet and you sighed. you didn’t know what you were expecting. “It’s fine. Forget what I asked.”

you made your way to the door , “ you can. you can come back- but can you bring some cupcakes and cookies by the bakery across the hospital ? I’ve never tasted it and It’s just newly opened - “

“ Of course.! I mean I’m bothering you so this is the least I could do “ you waved goodbye, “Then, see you tomorrow ”

—

“ OH - Y/N ! hello. What can I get you ? “ Two2 asked as he cleaned the counter.

Two2 is your friend who works at the local bakery, you have known him for awhile now.

“ Hey Two ! Can I get some cupcakes and cookies? “ Your eyes searched for some other pastries , “ Oh and these macaroons “ he smiled and nodded, picking out the pastries and putting them in a brown paper bag.

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you leave the warm bakery, you tighten the scarf around your neck and held the paper bag and felt the warmness coming from the freshly made pastries, the leaves has finally fully changed from green to an incredible display of vibrant colors, just as your cheeks get a little ruddy from the colder weather. dry, dead leaves crunch beneath your feet and clouds appear when you breathe out.

you knocked on the door, “ come in ! “ his voice was muffled and clogged, he sniffled. you found him hiding under the covers, visibly shaking.

“ Did you drink your medicine ? you have a fever. “ he groaned and closed his eyes, you pulled a chair beside his bed and ran your fingers through his hair.

“ don’t stop … “ he mumbled tiredly and you hummed gently in question, “ your fingers in my hair … “ he continued, “ feels really.. really nice “ his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a heavy hot sigh. you brushed away the sweaty locks of his hair plastered on his head due to his sweat.

An hour has passed, you checked your phone and continued drawing the sick boy who got sick on just the third day of autumn. He stirred a bit for a moment, mumbling a tired hoarse, “ water.. please ? “ you gave him some water and medicine. he lets out a quiet, ‘ thank you ‘

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled as you watched, tracing the art of him eating the pastries. crumbs on the side of his cheeks, still drowsy sleepy eyes as bits of yawn followed as he took small bites on the cupcakes.

‘ he looks so adorable ‘

he turned with big puffed cheeks , “ what are you looking at - ? “

“ nothing. You just look so adorable ~ “ you smirked as his puffed cheeks turned red, he avoided your gaze and kept eating. devouring all of the sweets with a contented smile.

You let out an amused chuckle and couldn’t help but draw all of his cute little moments, “ hey. tell me about yourself as I draw you “ he stayed quiet.

“ well - I'm Toasty. I love sweets and I’ve been stuck here for as long as I can remember, I for once want to be able to see the world. It’s kinda a plain dream right? “ he let out a chuckle with a pained smile.

“ then. Let’s find a paradise for the two of us, in exchange of letting me draw you I’ll show you places where you want to go “ you unknowingly held his hands tightly as he also gripped into yours, his eyes shined and his frown broke into a smile.

“ don’t make such promises , pervert “ he laughed with a cough as he pulled the covers closer to warm him up.

you shrugged, “ I don’t make empty promises, autumn boy “

—

Like a curious little kid, he was filled with laughter while holding his dripping ice cream, he opened his arms contently and smiled. “ Thank you for bringing me out there. '' His beautiful locks of hair flowed with the air, decoratively leaves flew by his hair and attached to him.

“ I told you, I don’t make empty promises. “ you smiled at the bustling lively family and children, a bunch of piles of leaves. the cold air sending shivers down your spine. “ Well I’m done drawing, I still need to get you back to your room “ he frowned sadly but nodded.

“ Can we go here again ? “

“ Of course. “

He laid down on his hospital bed, the bright smile never left his face, “ the world is so beautiful “

your eyes captured yet another beautiful occurrence that involved this beautiful boy.

The sunlight fell onto Toasty’s bed, and his skin was so pale it looked like he was glowing. Holy shit. That- There. Right there, that’s the beauty. you thought, studying the scars and veins running down and across his arms. The beauty in the world… It's him. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You’ve seen all the beautiful things in the world but his beauty is incomparable.

“You’re beautiful.” you breathed out, and he laughed. God, you wanted to bottle up that laugh and play it on repeat.

And so the two of you had spent the rest of the day together. In engulfing silence, you could hear the silent stifled laugh coming from him as you drew every part of him.

the way he’ll try to cover his laugh, or his eyes would flutter on your for a whole minute before he started turning red , or his puffy red cheeks whenever he got embarrassed.

your heart skipped whilst thinking about him. your hand trembled as your breath shaked, “ damn “ you breathed out and held your face with your rough calloused hands. feeling the heat on your cheeks spreading.

As you tried to calm your heart down, you didn’t notice the sincerity and adoration that his eyes showed. His own heart, beating the same as yours, his hands almost unnoticeable trembling.

he looked up and locked eyes with yours.

you were about to reach out to him when a loud stomach growl grew in that moment of silence. his lips twitched before letting out a laugh. “ don’t laugh ! “ You heard another stomach growl, you bit your tongue to contain the laughter, you smiled as you saw Toasty embarrassingly hid his face with his pillow.

“ I’ll go buy some pastries ” you heard a muffled ‘ thank you ‘ his ears were red again. It was a full week before you finally went out to see Toasty, you were filled with assignments and schoolworks to do and today you finally finished it, you grabbed the newly bought sketchbook. your old one was completely filled with him.

you knocked on his door, but didn’t hear an answer. you went in quietly, you spotted a heavily sleeping toasty. When he fell asleep his perfectly tied hair turned into a messy tangled mess. you set the pastries on the table and sat down beside him, ‘ i could just draw later ‘ you played with his messy locks of hair. He stirred and wrapped his hands around your waist with an inaudible grumble.

he blinked twice before a drowsy smile appeared. Bags under his eyes now are more evident than it was before. He fell asleep again on your shoulder, you tried not to move and let him sleep as you continued drawing steadily.

He yawn and turned red when he noticed he was drooling a bit on your shoulder, “ I’m sorry ” his voice was hoarse and dry as he spoke up, you reached out for your water bottle and lent it to him, who’s completely still half asleep. His usual tidy hair was sticking up messily, he mumbled a low “ hm- thank you, “ whilst he rubbed his eyes sleepily, you cracked a smile and drew another one of his cutest occurrences.

He was mysterious. Every moment was a beautiful occurrence with him, even the dried up drool when he woke up or the bitten nails as he nervously read a certain part of his favourite book. For you, he was the most beautiful art you could’ve ever drawn.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and you wheeled him into the hospital lobby, and then out the front doors. There was a little park next to it, specifically for people from the hospital, and you carefully brought him along one of the paved paths, it led to a beautiful place where you can clearly view the sunset.

Every chance you could get you always visited him with his favourite pastries, and just like that autumn ended. you’ve completed the third sketchbook filled with him. winter came, you excitedly wanted to announce that you won the artist competition and the drawings of him would be displayed. It took five days for all the arrangements so you didn’t get the chance to visit him sooner.

you knocked carefully on the door before slipping inside. you turned around, there were three very confused people staring at me.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” One of them spoke up. I rechecked the door number, and then looked back at them.

“Where is Toasty? this is his room.” you were shaking slightly, and your voice cracked as you spoke. The person who’d spoked the first time, an older man, must have seen the fear and pain in your eyes because his tone softened.

“We’ve had this room for three days. I don’t know who this Toasty is, but he’s not here.”

“No, no, no, that can’t be right! He was here, he was right here! He has to be here!” your hand shaked, as your breath quickened. your eyes got blurry. many thoughts ran through your head as you stood there.

“ calm down. Why don’t you go talk to a doctor? I don’t know anything about Toasty.” you nodded shakily, dropping the flowers onto a table and running out of the room. you tracked down the nearest doctor.

“Hi, I’m here for Toasty? He was in room 203, but now he’s gone.” your voice broke on the word ‘gone’.

“Check with the reception desk.” Came the gruff reply, and you ran off without bothering to thank him. your heart wretched as you ran. you never got to tell him. He couldn’t possibly be gone.

“Hi, the boy who was in room 203? He was in Room 203 but now he was gone” your voice couldn’t contain the shake as you were tapping my fingers against the desk, unable to hold still. you couldn’t stop your brain from going to the worst possible scenario. What if…

“ I’m sorry but he is gone– “

you couldn’t believe it. you stood there bewildered.

“ please! He can’t be gone– “

your voice broke out a agonizing painful sob, ‘ damn it ‘

—

the secrets of the autumn boy. He was a complete mystery.if you’ve brought up what he is in the hospital for, he would just ignore it and change the subject. you’ve never been able to tell your feelings to him. your hands trembled as you tried drawing him once again, but you could only continue to cry on the paper and let your tears wet the paper.

the beauty of autumn.

drawings of him were plastered on the museum every autumn, you wanted for him to appear every autumn as he did to you.

And disappeared as soon as winter came.

[thegeekcloud]

Einstein Rings and why they probably should not have his name

but oh well i love him so I don't mind

Well well well

Einstein was a smart guy alright

And we have these beautiful formations in the night sky named after him:

BUT

He was not alknowing

He did not think such a thing was possible to be observed. Years had to go by until we were able to build the proper tools to get beautiful pictures such as this one. Someone else had actually suggested their existence to begin with. And Einstein had to be pushed over a lot to publish a brief note about them.

Without further delay let's get onto the story

What are Einstein Rings?

Einstein rings are another beautiful consequence of gravity's existence and its ability to bend spacetime. What Einstein stated and is here in effect is that the curvature created in spacetime because of a heavy object (and I don't mean a bag of potatoes, I mean something really heavy like a galaxy) has the ability to curve light's path which is usually straight.

Without an object large enough to bend space time in the universe, when the spacetime is considered flat, light always travels in a straight line. And that's how we perceive the location of its origin. So when the path is curved, we don't perceieve it to be and so we see the star or whayever else its origin is to be at the extension of the final straight path away from the source of gravity.

It is the same when you look at fish swiming under the surface. Difference in density of the space in which the light travels (f.e. when it goes from the air to the water and vice versa) can also change the light's path. That is called diffraction. This is something similar but smoother and bevause of gravity.

So. What we see in our pictures is actuallt the image of two objects. Two galaxies (because they are heavy enough). One red, closer to us, bending spacetime and acting as the source of gravity, and one blue, further away behind the red, acting as the source of light. The blue galaxy could had been at any angle comparee to the red and we would still had seen its image displaced, deformed and sometimes even multiplicated. BUT only when it's almost exactly behind the red galaxy do we see an Einstein ring forming because the system is symmetrical.

Now

The tea 🫖

Einstein had published the theory of general realativity. A dude named Rudi W. Mandl read it. He was an amateur scientist. At some point i think he was a dishwasher because there is a photo of him but boy did he have nerve and man was he right to have it.

He wrote to Einstein and said something in the lines of

Mandl: Hey man. You've got some fame now. A nice scientist you are. But don't you get annoyed by how many pseudoscientists there are around. Like...astrologers. what the fuck are they even doing here

Yeah. He actually mentioned all that. This colorful intro was meant to draw Einstein's attention before Mandl proposed his idea of heavy objects in the cosmos acting like lenses (and therefore creating as well Einstein rings)

Einstein was a good guy, not to displease a fan. He actually sat down and did the calculations. But, it turned out that the phrnomenon would be extremely faint and their observational machinery inadequate to detect it. Einstein wrote that

"you know what. Yeah light behaves that way but there's no way it would lead to objects acting like lenses"

Mandl did not like that. And when i say he didn't like it I mean it. He wrote back to Einstein and actually told him "bro you're wrong"

To THE Einstein

Little bertie did the calculations again, this time with more detail, but came up with almost the same result. That there is no way light can bend that much

Einstein explained that to him in his letters but Mandl wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that his theory was right. And in the end, Albert grew tired of listening to the tantrums and was like

Albert: ok. Ok buddy. No need to get upset. I'll publish it.

And publish he did...

As a note.

Soon though people were intrigued by this brand new possibility. Some claimed they had thought of it way earlier. And one day, about 40 years later, a team of scientists in California using the telescopes in Chile (yup that's how it rolls) detected the first Einstein ring.

And all because of a dishwasher who knew some science and wouldn't shut up.

More Science

[jackrrabbit]

spank bank HCs /// Oikawa, Atsumu, and Kuroo x s/o (18+)

A/N: Been thinking about how the hq boys practice self-love 😏 Kind of a palate cleanser, I want to do this for more characters haha

Tags/warnings: pornography, masturbation, sex, edging, lots of mentions of different porn categories, Kuroo is a little shit, all characters are 18 or older

Oikawa Tōru

Oikawa has a weird relationship with conventional porn. On one hand, he’s a young healthy guy with an equally healthy sex drive, and what can he say, he likes watching girls get pounded

On the other hand, the kind of porn you find on sites like PH is always ugly men fucking beautiful women, and as a pretty boy Oikawa finds it hard to identify with. Like where is the justice??? How is it supposed to be believable that a gorgeous woman in her twenties is really moaning that hard for an aging male pornstar with more hair on his chest than on his head?

So he opts for the perfect alternative: camgirls!

He has three or four different channels that he bounces between. His favorites are the ones that are well-lit, nicely produced, high quality film and lots of eye contact. He never interacts or chats with them though, he’s kind of a lurker

Very very into solo acts and toys. You know those sites that let you control the speed of a girl’s vibrator by donating certain amounts of money? Oikawa lives for those. All his pocket change goes toward camgirls, it’s a real problem

Once the two of you start dating, Oikawa’s sexual needs are mostly sated because…well, he’s got you, and you’re a hundred times hotter than any random girl on the internet. But once in a while it’ll still happen that your schedules don’t line up or you’re on your period or it just doesn’t work out, and he’ll get pent up again

When that happens, he’ll return to his old stand-by channels. It’ll be kinda nostalgic getting off to girls fucking themselves with glass dildos or grinding on vibrators in front of the webcam

But the problem, the problem is that he can’t get you out of his head, and when he’s looking at “jasm1neXXX” doing her cute little striptease, he keeps feeling like he’s betraying you :(

So Oikawa bids a regretful goodbye to his old favorite camgirls, and begins the search for one who looks like you. The resemblance doesn’t have to be perfect, it can be something small—hair that matches your color, a moan that falls into a huff of breath like you do—just enough that he can imagine that she’s you

Definitely never tells you that he gets off to porn. Feels guilty about it even if you wouldn’t care ➳

Miya Atsumu

Kinda the opposite of Oikawa when it comes to porn. His preferences are extremely fuckboyish

Into a little bit of everything. Lesbian, gangbang, bondage, creampie, step-sibling, whatever. You name it, he’s seen it, and he’s probably jacked off to it. The only thing he’s resolutely not into is amateur stuff. Atsumu doesn’t fuck with that low-budget bullshit

Definitely not here for the storyline though—he’ll skip ahead in the video past the setup (seriously, who gives a fuck about why the babysitter decided to spread her legs for the the pizza delivery guy) so he can get to the good part

Into edging. To spice things up a bit if he’s got at least an hour of free time he’ll go through a bunch of different videos, jerking himself off slowly while he watches a pretty girl get wrecked, up until he feels his stomach drop and he’s riiiiight about to cum when he’ll stop. Wait. Let himself fall down a little bit, hold back, drop away from the edge. And start another video just so he can do it all over again

Atsumu doesn’t really know…why he likes edging. It’s very frustrating. It makes him antsy and horny and tense, so he’s not sure why he does it. Once when he was doing it, he got interrupted and couldn’t finish until ages later and it was probably the most unpleasant thing he’s ever felt that wasn’t physical pain. He was seriously this fucking close 👌 to smacking the shit out of the person who interrupted him (it was Osamu complaining that he was sick of getting sexiled for over an hour)

It just…feels good, okay? It feels real good to finally get to cum after he’s been edging. Jerking off every other day can get old, so a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do

Favorite category is probably public sex! The possibility of other people overseeing is so fucking hot

Overall, Atsumu has a pretty high sex drive and feels zero guilt about watching porn. Even if you guys are dating, he has needs and you’re not always around to help with them, so that’s where PH and XV come in

Absolutely not shy about it with you. Legit if he’s watching something he wants to try that he just saw in a porno, he will not hesitate to text you the link and be like “hey watch this n tell me what ya think”

Even if you’re not the type to be appreciative of his porn recommendations, he will still def take notes from what he watches and apply them irl. Atsumu is plenty aware that porn is unrealistic, but he’s more than capable of sifting out the good from the bad, and it helps him be…let’s say creative in bed

Want to know where he learned that new move or that extremely bendy position? You don’t have to wonder. It’s porn. He learned it from porn ◎

Kuroo Tetsurō

Kuroo tends to get in a bit of a dilemma because he likes sex and his sex drive is through the roof, but he Does Not. Like. Masturbating.

He much, much prefers to have sex with a partner—to be fair, who doesn’t?—but Kuroo will take it to an extreme. If he’s not able to see you, he’ll go weeks without touching his dick for any reason that isn’t pissing or washing

Literally...a couple months after you started dating, his family made him come on a three-week vacation to Hawaii and when he came back he complained that it was the worst three weeks of his life

“You were in a tropical paradise getting a tan and you’re acting like it was a war zone. Stop whining.” “But baby, you weren’t there! I was so horny, you have no idea, I thought I was going to die, I thought my dick was going to fall off—“

It gets annoying.

When he gets his hands on you after a decent period apart, he’ll be like “I saved myself up for you baby <3” and you’re like “um, ew, why are you so gross”

If he doesn’t wear a condom with you, be prepared for the fact that he cums a lot. A lot. You’ll be in the shower afterward cleaning up and it’s like, there’s more? There’s still fucking more???

You ask Kuroo once why he doesn’t like jacking off, kind of awkwardly, after a four-round fuckfest that left you too shaky to even hold your hips off the bed, and he pauses for a second to think about it before answering

“Well…imagine you have a choice between two meals. One of them is a gourmet steak from a five-star restaurant, and the other one is…hm, a McDonald’s hamburger. You can have the burger whenever you want it, but the steak is only available once in a while because it’s rare and you have to appreciate it when you have it. Which would you choose?”

Okay, fine. That’s kind of cute

It’s less cute when you guys are apart and Kuroo gets really desperate, desperate enough that you get 6 texts in a row from him at 1 in the morning implying that he’s in some kind of dire emergency

“babe”

“BABE”

“911”

“🆘❌⚠️🆘”

“please I need ur help it’s important”

“call me asap”

You call him all frantic, asking him if he needs you to call the cops or something. Is he in trouble? Hurt? Is there a home invader threatening his life?

Nope, he’s totally fine, he’s just horny and wants to have phone sex. That son of a bitch

If you tell him off badly enough, Kuroo will relent and make do without you. He will, however, request nudes to help him through this difficult time

Send thoughts and prayers instead ✷

[tastesoftamriel]

How do you think things like theater and entertainment differs between the provinces/races of Tamriel? I imagine bawdy comedies are popular in Cyrodiil while Summerset prefer historical epics

I’ll be totally honest: I don’t have loads of time for entertainment, and when I’m catering for a banquet I’m too busy behind the scenes to be able to stop and enjoy shows! However, from what I have been able to gather, these are some of the weird and wonderful performances I’ve been lucky enough to watch across Tamriel.

Altmer

The very best entertainers from Summerset are from the House of Reveries, a time-honoured guild of mysterious masked performers who can do anything from acting to dance, music, and magic tricks. Every year, the House puts on a revue featuring the best of their talent, drawing crowds from near and far. I attended one of the revues as a guest a couple of years ago, and had an excellent time! From a historical opera about the Oblivion Crisis to fire-twirlers and a whole orchestra, the House of Reveries is without doubt the most prolific and capable of Tamriel’s entertainers. If you’re able to make it to their home in Summerset, catching any performance is definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Argonians

Argonians love music and dance, whether it’s at a tavern or a bonding ceremony! Most famous of their instruments is the vossa-satl, a keyboard instrument that’s powered by the croaks of frogs (really)! While it sounds absurd if you’ve never encountered one, there’s something beautiful about the tuned croaking that really evokes the ambiance of the deep swamps of Murkmire. Vossa-satls can be played on their own, accompanied with singing and drums, or even are even played on special occasions as quartets. An awful lot of fun to dance to as well!

Bosmer

The Bosmer are known for their entrancing shadow-puppet plays, which people come from far and wide to see. Narrated by a Tale-Spinner, these plays feature puppets made from stiff hide, whose shadows are projected against an opaque leather screen. It’s accompanied by music played on bone flutes and pipes, drums, and throat-singing that has an almost meditative quality. These puppet shows tell traditional stories Valenwood such as of Falinesti, Y’ffre, the Green Lady and Silvenar, and much more. I don’t really know what they’re on about most of the time due to the peculiar use of language and riddles used by Bosmer tale-spinners, but it’s an absolutely riveting way to spend your evening if you’re in Valenwood.

Bretons

Breton theatre is an interactive experience, so put on your dancing shoes and ready those rotten apples! Over-the-top musical comedies and dramas are a favourite of the Province, typically featuring anywhere from a handful to a couple dozen actors and a small band. The audience is encouraged to play along and it’s not uncommon to find yourself hoisted on stage to throw a pumpkin at the villain of the show! Comedic puppet shows like Punch-and-Julian are popular with young and old alike, and use cloth puppets or marionettes which are more detailed than Bosmeri shadow puppets. And of course, nobody loves The Lusty Argonian Maid’s adventures quite as much as the Bretons, so be sure to catch a performance (sometimes a themed costume party, for the saucier citizens) while you’re in High Rock!

Dunmer

Traditional Morrowind entertainment has a strong focus on magic, particularly illusion magic to scintillate the crowd (especially in areas where the Telvanni hold influence). The Dunmer are keen lovers of puppet shows, somewhat like Bosmer shadow puppets, but instead prefer the use of large, doll-like marionettes that are carved to look wonderfully realistic to show the characters and creatures of a bygone age. My favourite was an epic about St. Jiub and his quest to rid Morrowind of cliff racers, and it was accompanied by some frankly terrifying and realistic illusions of cliff racers which soared above the crowd and caused quite a panic! The Brave Little Scrib may thus be the safest bet for beginners to Dunmeri theatre, or those with a weak constitution.

Imperials

When it comes to entertainment, nobody in Tamriel puts on a show quite like the Imperials. The Arena is known for its bloody fights and betting, but has also been used for everything from huge circus performances and opera to the famous mock naval battles. The latter are a spectacular annual event where the arena floor is flooded and real ships are brought in to fight, complete with “pirates”, cannons, sword-fighting, and much more! Definitely not suitable entertainment for children, but if you love the ostentatious and over-the-top, be sure to visit the Imperial Arena (or any of the other smaller arenas that dot the Province) for some truly stunning shows.

Khajiit

In addition to their amazing skill at stringed instruments, the Khajiit are known for their dance and acrobatic skills. Traditional dancers in Elsweyr train for years at academies and temples alike, with a training regime that rivals their peers in the martial arts. This training also includes some jaw-dropping acrobatics and contortion, making Khajiiti circuses extremely popular as they travel around, usually as part of a Baandari troupe. Unlike the circuses staged in Cyrodiil, these troupes are usually made of a handful to a dozen performers, each with their own unique talents and abilities. A typical performance usually starts with dancers to warm up the crowd, followed by heart-stopping acts like trapeze, tightrope, and walking over hot coals! If you want to be wowed, be sure to grab a ticket the next time a Khajiiti circus troupe is in town; you won’t be disappointed!

Nords

You’re probably very aware of the famous Bard’s College of Solitude, one of the most prestigious institutions to study music in all of Tamriel. However, bards do far more than play the lute and sing songs. They are well-versed in recounting tales, especially historical ones (albeit with some embellishment). You’ll be on the edge of your seat listening to amazing original and time-honoured kennings and songs, preferably around the fire with a tankard of mead. While far less ostentatious than most other entertainment you’ll find in Tamriel, there’s nothing quite as cosy as a bardic evening at the tavern.

Orcs

The Orcs aren’t generally fans of theatre, but they sure do enjoy entertainment in the form of sports like Vosh ball and wrestling! Sporting events draw huge crowds of all races, meaning that you’ll find everything from hot snacks to live music in the arena. Vosh ball is a traditional Orcish sport which has been played for centuries, and is prone to getting violent, so grab a helmet (preferably one with a visor) before you sit down, and enjoy the show! Not feeling like watching? In certain cases, you can even give these sports a go in amateur rounds, but you will be asked to sign a disclaimer form…missing teeth, other injuries, and the occasional death aren’t uncommon. You’ve been warned!

Redguards

The Redguards are renowned for their poetry, song, and epic storytelling, often performed by wandering poet-explorers who live off the generosity of strangers. Unlike the traveling bards of Skyrim, you’ll usually need to visit these reclusive storytellers yourself, or host one when they’re in town! It’s well worth the trouble, as these wandering souls usually love performing with anyone else who’s game. One of my most memorable nights out was in Sentinel, where bored locals who came to listen to a visiting poet happened to bring all their talents with them. When the story about the Akaviri invasion ramped up, a few musicians struck up a tune, and for some reason a sword-swallower joined in! Entertainment in Hammerfell is a joyous community affair, and no two performances are ever alike.