#he was able to turn that more than questionable script into the performance of a lifetime

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Aegon is iconic along with Aemond,

“I think he’s been broken for a long time. He’s just been trying to hide it, and survive, and make progress in himself. I think he’s conscious that he wants to be a better person. He just doesn’t quite know how. He hasn’t had that nurturing that you require to have a good understanding of values and morals and that capacity to love. That’s why I think his reaction to the loss of Jaehaerys was so visceral for him. This is the first time he’s fully allowed himself to love something and to feel that sensation of love. For that to be snatched away from him, that was the last straw — or what he thought was the last straw until he was bedridden, caused by his own brother. So I think we’re going to see a very different side of Aegon where his want to be a good person and a good king has slightly started to dissipate. He’s becoming colder and more calculated and I think he is going to really let his darkness out.” — Tom Glynn-Carney on the impact of Jaehaerys’ death, and Aegon in season three

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 3/?

_______________________________

Jazz was vaguely aware that Blaster was studying his reaction – or waiting to see if he would give into impulse. But Jazz's excitement had crashed to a puddle of nerves, a bunch of unidentifiable nerves, and he felt anchored to the spot. "Did you find out anything new about – him?" He asked, unsure of… far too much. "Like is there anything I should know?"

"The whole team still has a lot to discuss about," Blaster hesitated, his tone twisting into distaste just before the pause. Yet, relented to whatever it was that was bothering him and continued calmly, "about… him. There isn't anything I have to share, sorry."

He knew the apology was insincere, a show, just another part of the performance. They were friendly, but not friends.

Blaster had always been the one that told him more about what was going on around them than most ever had his whole life. He actively tries to get closer to him more than any past caretaker has and listens to Jazz. A flaw rather than a improvement for their first few years together as Jazz was prone to lying. Still was, but he do so less often and was more withholding the truth with Blaster. But Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to honestly trust him. He did, but not really. Because Blaster was still staff.

And the staff were currently hiding something, something they either didn't want Jazz to know or something they thought he wouldn't understand, so it was pointless. Jazz looked up at him with a – fake and flawless from practice – understanding smile, with the next line in the script. "It's okay."

Blaster smiled back, one that was genuine, than asked, "you calmed down enough for a check up? I got to keep an eye on your blood pressure."

Rather than answer with words, Jazz turned away from the gate and headed for the slope on the pier.

—

He spent the next two hours before dinner between quickly checking the clock and floating in front of the gate. The other orca hadn't even moved, and if not for the clear sound of steady breaths, Jazz would have probably started to freaking-out – okay, he was already freaking-out, but it was back on how he was going to talk with the wild mer. Or, heck, where to start on what to say.

The last thing Blaster said; before finally going home after a busy fourteen hour day, was that there was no need to worry if the wild mer slept until tomorrow. His wounds would recover faster if he didn't move, if anything it was a good thing. For now, went unsaid.

Thus, dinner came and went. Still asleep.

Day staff signed off and night staff came by to sneak a peek. He could pickup on them with his sonar coming by the bay window, but each time voiced disappointed that they couldn't see anything due to the hammock's position. Still asleep.

Dusk came and Jazz struggled to stay awake, exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Still asleep.

—

A wobbling keen caused Jazz to flinch and peek one eye open. It was probably the middle of the night with how dark it still was. As he blinked awake and stretched, his tired brain suddenly realized it understood that sound, that word – {where?}

Jazz quickly rolled over and looked towards the wounded mer. Not quite able to see, but was getting enough of an image of movement with his sonar. Combined with the sounds of shifting fabric and soft rattle of metal supports, Jazz could tell he was awake.

A weak questioning call followed along with a faint splash.

Ah, right, uh–! Jazz panicked for a moment, he didn't want him to become frightened and reopen his wounds, or think they were somewhere all alone. Diving down to an old memory and remembering the warmth, Jazz hoped he could convey his words with comfort, {it's okay… you're safe.}

He didn't get a vocal response, but they became still and within a few minutes, Jazz heard the soft steady breaths once more. He had fallen back to sleep and Jazz couldn't help but smile a little. It wasn't long before he also drifted back off as well.

—

Prowl groaned as he moved, he ached all over, but was given some pretty nasty tugs of sharp pain to remind him of just how bad it was. As he opened his eyes, though still groggy, he took a quick note of the situation as he looked about.

The space. Dim lighting, white walls, an air pocket room with a shallow pool, two doors; one in the water, one on an above-surface area – unusual. Sonar was giving almost unreadable imaging and with a limited range due to other sources of interference – there was a lot of noise to sort out. But he was getting what looked like corridors on one side, large open space on the other. Overall, a simple structure.

His position. A hammock – a bit too snug, unable to rollover, but acceptable comfort.

Injuries. Multiple points of laceration on his arms, flank and tail; claws from other merfolk. Deep punctures along his left side; teeth of a leviathan. Of both arms, the left has more damage and is pinned in a solid net-like cast; potential fracture. Cuts are held shut by a bright coloured, mesh-like covering that clings tightly to his skin by an adhesive, rough to the touch, but not uncomfortable or irritating – likely breathable to reduce infection during the healing process.

Additionally, he noticed in his inspection that his claws had been filed down to his fingers. Irritating, but not unexpected given the extreme caution most give to someone like himself. But in all, this was not first-aid, the treatment is professional.

Conclusion: local clinic.

Prowl gave a breath of relief and relaxed. Someone must have found him adrift after the skirmish and rushed him to a near by town or village. As everything was far to modest to be a big city hospital.

Suddenly, he sensed movement that went over him swiftly and looked up. But whatever it was was gone. Prowl was only picking up empty space above the light-blue ceiling. Then another zipped by. A bird?

Prowl felt everything slow to a stop as cold dread sunk into his bones. That wasn't a ceiling.

That was the morning sky.

_______________________________

I hope I have the right understanding of how advanced the merfolks civilization is... otherwise this is really awkward. >_>; I also wanted to give Jazz at least one human that is trying to make things better for him and be on his side (he's secretly providing inside information to mer activists and trustworthy researchers). Blaster worked hard to gain the position he has to be Jazz's lead caretaker, but fighting the system and working with in it (or risk being replaced by a yes-man) is a frustrating balancing game.

Sorry this one is so short. The next part is going to be really long as Prowl and Jazz get finally meet! I hope it is worth the wait. QuQ

Thank you for the hug, I return the hug!♡♡♡

-GLC

Oohoh my god oh my

The waitinggggggggggggg. Jazz is slowly going insane and so am I *dies*

Upd: I linked all the parts written by GLC together>:D

Link to the previous part

Next

Also the fact that Blaster is actually gives the information away to those activists??? MUAH. SO GREAT. This would also be a pretty solid reason for why Jazz and Prowl wouldn't get separated after the uh. Haha. The violent incident. Imagine if Blaster immediately got the security tapes and uploaded them somewhere? Kinda like it was with Black fish documentary uncovering the murders done by captive orcas?

Point is. People would see that "oh no those two poor mers defend each other so much they turn violent when separated" and pressure the Aquarium to keep them together. Maybe I sound stupid here but it does make sense in my head. It's really nice for Jazz to have someone on his side is what I'm saying. I love that:>

Separately. The tiny interaction they have is so soft and gentle I'm gonna melt. The little {you're safe}?? AUGH

I can't wait for them to interact IM DOING THE JAZZ ARC IN REAL TIME BASICALLY JUST FREAKING OUT OVER THE FUTURE COVERSATION AHAHDKMGMHMFNFMGMF

Also

Prowl: That's a weird looking underwater facility....

A bird: flies

Prowl:

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[exquisiteserotonin]

The Senator's Daughter

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Female Reader

Word count: 5.5K | AO3

Summary: A personal invitation from Emperor Geta to a lavish dinner party at the palace gives your more than you bargain for.

Warnings: Dubcon, Oral (F and M receiving), Finger fucking, cunnilingus, blow jobs, semi-public sex, inexperienced, but strong reader, Geta is scary but you kinda like it

TW: One particular scene could really be troubling to some, especially as far as consent goes

A/N: Thank you to my darlings @pink-whiskey-woman and @redhotkitchen for being my beta readers for this one! Enjoy my loves, any comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Also this does have a bit of plot because I honestly can't help myself.

As a senator’s eldest daughter, you revel in societal privileges that so many only dream of indulging. Opulent banquets, the best seats for theatrical performances and the gladiator games, the list is long and the invitation is always open. You’ve always had a fear of missing out on anything even remotely exciting even as a child. Two decades of life have passed for you and that feeling intensifies. You beg your protective father to go to the Gladiator games and banquets for the entire kingdom — all you know to be merely an excuse to showcase the wealth and opulence of the empire. Yet it is a request he gladly fulfills. But they exhaust you, especially with the loud, raucousness of sycophants, trying to capture a glimpse of someone important. It makes you feel like you’re just like everyone else. But you aren’t: you’re better. It’s your father’s fault really. He didn’t spare the expense of educating you in all the subjects and languages. As you’ve grown older, you walk with confidence in the fact that not only is your status deserved, it is earned. 

You’ve been begging your father to take you to one of the more private dinners reserved for only the most important but he always says no. You’re of age you tell him, practically shouting it loud enough for all in the Forum to hear. ”You weren’t invited,” he tells you, ”I was.”

Hearing the whispers of another invitation-only, luxurious gathering, you are fully prepared to argue with your father again about why you should be able to attend. He sees you coming, your stola flowing swiftly as though in a storm. He holds a hand up to stop your argument before it even starts. The audacity of him to tell you no again has you shaking. 

“Before you begin another tirade, daughter,” he asserts, ever exhausted but also ever proud by your keen, discerning candor. He hands you a roll of parchment, “the Emperor, Geta, has personally asked for your presence at the next palace gathering.”

The unexpectedness of this news nearly causes you to stumble over the bottom of your gown. Your father keeps his eyes on you as you unroll the parchment. The invitation is simple and handwritten, requesting your presence in Emperor Geta’s impeccable script. Your excitement can hardly be contained and you are nearly jumping as you hold the parchment tightly in your hands.

“I needn’t remind you of how you must comport yourself as a member of this family,” he says, but by saying as much he is reminding you. 

“Father, when have I ever comported myself in a way that reflected anything less than all you have given and instilled in me?”

A smile and proud admission of this form on his face. But you also nod, taking stock in his words. You intend to walk away, but watch him closely as he wrings his hands together—a sign that all is not well with him. Your hands find his aged ones and they tremble beneath your touch. 

“Father, something troubles you.” 

It is a statement, not a question. 

His eyes turn to you and you can see they are glassy with the onset of tears. Your heart softens for him. Your stoic father rarely shows anything but unwavering fortitude and strength. 

“You are no longer a girl,” he states, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh, “but a woman, a stubborn and sometimes impetuous one, but a woman nonetheless.” 

Your eyes crinkle as you share a moment of laughter with your father in acknowledging this truth.

“But you are still my daughter,” he affirms, pride brimming from his very soul, “my beautiful, intelligent, headstrong daughter—do not take this request from the emperor lightly.” 

You breathe in his words and the ambiguity behind them. He squeezes your hand before he speaks again. 

“The road to power and influence is rarely paved solely by integrity and good intention,” he declares as he brushes a wavy tendril from your face. “Do you understand?”

You lean forward and squeeze your father’s hands again with an assured confidence—one that almost feels like defiance within you. You hold your head high and a smile forms on your face. 

“I believe I understand exactly what you mean.” 

***

The day of the palace gathering arrives faster than you anticipate. You’ve been busying yourself with reading the latest in literature while acquiring the perfect garment for the evening. Sparing no expense, you find a gown of saffron yellow, that when hit just right with sunlight, shines like satin fields of gold. The palla you wear is reminiscent of the clear blue waters of the ocean. You sit before your reflection and dip your fingers in a small bowl of water tinted a rich coral-pink from crushed poppies tapping them lightly on your cheeks and lips. Then you lightly comb your long waves until they cascade down your back and shoulders. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your appearance. The time to leave is here. 

The moment you step foot inside the palace walls, you have to take a breath at the grandeur of all that surrounds you. Familiar faces greet you, of course, they’ve known you even as a child because of your father. Some steal more than one glance in your direction, perhaps it was the gown or maybe they hadn’t seen you in some time. Men approach you, making small talk of how you’ve grown. You surprise them with your talk of literature, language, and politics and some are more impressed than others while the fools are not at all. You are quickly ushered to the private wing of the emperors’ home where most of the revelries will occur. 

A servant approaches you offering an ornate chalice filled with red wine which you gladly take. You scan the room as you bring the chalice to your lips. As you do, you catch the Emperor Geta, his eyes set upon you while his hands palm the opulently, gold-embroidered robes at his thighs. You smile into your chalice as before taking one more sweep around the hall, intensely aware that the emperor’s eyes follow you around the room. And it reminds you of what you have always known: You are better than anyone else invited in this room. 

A well-dressed guard finds you and bows his head as he presents an arm to you. 

“My lady,” he begins, “Caesar has reserved space for you with the imperial family and the other dignitaries.” 

Your breath hitches for a moment and you hope you’ve done well enough to keep your composure. In your periphery you see Emperor Geta leaning forward upon his chaise, his fingers are stacked with rings and he is grazing his lips with them as he watches and waits for you. You make your way to him from across the room and despite being the one on the move, it feels as though you’re being hunted. In seconds you are standing before him, his eyes are traversing the expanse of your body from your head to your toes and back up again. The intensity of it, of him, is heavy and it envelops you like a fog. 

“Sit,” he directs you and gestures to an empty, cushioned space beside him on his lectus, smoothing the cushions with the palm of his hand. 

His brother and co-emperor Caracalla interjects with a pout as he feeds his pet monkey, Dundas from a bunch of grapes, one by one, “Brother, she is a lady of society and your personal guest, you should say please!!!” 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips tightening at his brother’s words. The moment he turns his gaze back to you, the late afternoon sunlight hits his eyes just so, making them glimmer a rich, golden amber. He gestures next to him again with his right hand as he squeezes his armrest with the other. 

“Please,” he pauses for emphasis, “sit.”

Emperor Geta holds a hand out to you and you take it. His eye contact with you is unmatched as he presses his lips to your hand. This close, they are fuller than you imagined and even softer than you could dream if you allow yourself. 

“First a personal invitation,” you say with a light smile, “and now what certainly must be a most coveted space next to you, dear Caesar. To what do I owe such an honor?”

“Your father has served us well in the senate,” he begins, “we used to play together as children, do you not recall?” 

You laugh, knowing the reality is different from his recollection. You played in the vicinity of each other as very young children. Age and influence would separate you, year after year. 

“I’m hardly the girl I was,” you say, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, “and you barely knew me then. Why summon me now, if not for nostalgia?” 

“To know the woman you are now, the one that makes every person’s head turn the moment she walks in the room.” 

Before you can respond, a melody rings out bouncing off the shining, marble walls. It takes your attention from the handsome emperor and takes your breath away with its beauty. Already, this is everything you have dreamed of and the evening is only just beginning. The music builds as more musicians enter the triclinium. A masked pantomime dancer pirouettes before you, each step a story, a declaration of love, the agony of war, and the tragedy of death. Each step echoes from the music into your soul and holds tightly onto your heart making you feel everything through each wave of an arm, a tip of a head, flicks of a fingertip, and the point of a toe. Through it, you hear Caracalla giggling and elated, clapping his hands and waving his body around with each musical change. As the audience stands and claps at the pantomime's end, tears are falling freely from your eyes. 

You feel Geta’s bejeweled fingers wrapping around your arm and pulling it close to him. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes on you. “Is it not?” 

You nod, squeezing his hand in response to his.

Caracalla’s ear splitting laughter rings out again as Dundas scurries around the lectus, stealing scraps of food from people’s fingers. You watch as the monkey creeps towards Geta’s fingers as she attempts to steal whatever she can from him. He quickly lets go of your hand to wave her away before turning to his brother, fighting to keep calm as he seethes through his teeth to keep Dundas away from him. 

“Every military conquest is a show of our power to the world,” you hear a guest nearby, “by might, we will see the glory of Rome flourish!”

You turn towards the direction of the conversation and see some faces you recognize as colleagues of your father. 

“And you believe that’s where the glory of Rome lies? A forced hand? Barbarism?” Their talk compels you to join in their discussion. “The glory of Rome rests in her ability to exchange knowledge, to expand what we already know through partnerships, to make what we have better.”

They pause and chuckle under their breath. 

“You are a fool hardy idealist just like your father!”

They laugh, passing judgement upon you. 

“My father is a scholar and a pacifist,” you retort, “I fail to see how that should be misconstrued as weak and defamatory.”

“Conquests are how we absorb the best of the knowledge we find,” one of the men says as he waves a dismissive hand at you. 

You feel a shift next you and notice that Emperor Geta is returning his focus to you and your discussion. He leans in, placing a hand upon your knee. In an instant the men’s expressions tighten at the corners of their wrinkled eyes. Any ease they hold in their body disappears almost immediately as the emperor attends to you. 

“Through war? Through death?” you counter, “At the cost of the lives of our finest men and our most precious resources?”

“Expanding the empire expands our resources.”

Emperor Geta moves his eyes, deep in thought between you and the senators. He measures your composure in your responses and places a thoughtful hand on his chin. A sense builds in you that he is intent on listening to the next words that are ready to leave your lips.

“Senators, war is an unsustainable solution for Rome,” you assert, “and it will only contribute to her downfall.”

The old men remain silent at your words and it amplifies the chatter around you. The buzz in the air intensifies as you turn to see Emperor Caracalla stand with his arms stretching out in greeting to another guest. 

“MACRINUS!” He cries out with an excited clap of his hands. “What gifts do you have for us this evening?”

The arms dealer Macrinus walks in, his flowing robes of blue billowing behind him. He approaches the lectus like he belongs here. His bravado is too much, you think, as you watch him greet Caracalla with the smallest of bows and it fills you with unease. It is a sign of how little he respects the throne. Geta’s brother doesn’t seem to notice and continues to smile with the utmost elation. Macrinus presents two men, their hands are bound in chains and their faces contort in both despondency and fury.  One of the senators with whom you had just shared a war of words steps out calling attention to all the guests. 

“Gentleman and ladies,” he looks at you with a smirk, “what better way is there to celebrate Rome’s strong hand and influence than to see these two men battle?”

You hate him more than you did even just a moment ago. You tighten your lips and take long deep breaths to your nose to stave off your shaking anger. 

“To the death!” Caracalla screams, taking a drunken sip of wine before leaning on the shoulders of one of his lovers. 

The applause around you is deafening as each and every guest breaks into fits of screams, hoots, and gasps. The air around you feels thick as the two prisoners are leashed upon each other. Their sweat and blood simmers and it makes you feel dizzy. Every punch, kick, and strangle the men inflict upon each other makes you wince. You’ve been to gladiator games in the coliseum, but seeing a battle so close, within arms reach, evokes a different feeling entirely. Your head feels light as the smell of iron blood grows thicker and you grow sicker. You lean forward bracing your hand on Geta’s shoulder, while closing your eyes tight.  You hear grunts and screams of anger and pain resound across the room. Geta has taken a hold of your hand pressing it to his chest as you lean your face into the shoulders of his robes, anything to fend off the visual of two men killing each other from your mind. With each strike the men make, the guests provoke the most brutal of blows until you hear a squelching sound and a chorus of gasps. 

“It is over,” Geta calls to you, before joining in on the applause. 

You open your eyes to see a loyal guard dragging the body of one man off the floor, leaving behind a trail of blood while the other one is back in chains and taken away.  You draw your hand to your lips and pull in a deep breath, but it makes everything you feel worse. The blood is thicker and you’re swallowing the metallic flavor that has penetrated the air directly on your tongue. 

“Your excellency,” you say faintly, “I can’t breathe, I need air.” 

No one seems to take notice of your plight but the Emperor. He takes your hand and ushers a loyal guard to you. He takes your right arm, while the guard takes your left. You feel lighter as soon as the smell of fresh air and flowers float to your nose. You close your eyes as he leans you against a column. The rattling of the guards armor shuffles quickly and you feel a cool, damp cloth against your face. The softness of the touch tells you it is Geta who holds it there.

“Leave us,” he orders and you hear the guard’s quick march disappear into the distance.

“Caesar,” you sigh, opening your eyes as you brace yourself against the column, “I am sorry.”

The sun is already dipping well below the horizon and as he removes the cloth from your head, you find yourself being drawn in by the pools of honey that are his eyes. This quiet sunset is a calming foil to the frenzied and severe nature he usually displays to Rome and all her citizens. 

“You were raised witnessing the spectacle of gladiator games,” the smile he gives you is smug. “How was bearing witness to a more private show such a difficulty for you?”

You snicker quietly as you shake your head, “the proximity of the…final act was something I’ve never accounted for.”

“And yet you’ve always wanted to be here,” he says, moving closer to you, backing you further into the stone column. “My dear, I’ve heard the whispers.” 

You could counter him, deny his allegations despite their truth. Denial in this moment would serve neither one of you. You merely raise a brow at him and lift your shoulders in a slight shrug. 

“Will you show you me the rest of the garden until I’m well enough to return to the party or return home,” you ask standing forward from the column. 

Geta’s eyes twitch when you offer the idea of returning home. He offers his hand and you begin a slow amble around the imperial gardens. The oxygen that every plant in the garden releases helps to push the sickness away. The beauty of how the myrtles and mulberry trees line the sides of the garden and the way peony bushes form a perfect grid among the fountains is the medicine you need. 

“You speak so freely to the senators, without thought of repercussions or judgement,” Geta observes aloud. 

“I speak to anyone when I am able to offer the truth,” you reply with a sigh. 

“You hold judgement for them,” he takes another bold step forward, “what makes you believe you have a better understanding of politics, of what the Roman people need?” 

“Caesar, I am not blinded by power,” you respond, “I seek knowledge and understanding and I’ve no need to impress anyone in a position of power.”

“You do nothing to hide the disdain on your face when you speak of those in power,” the emperor observes, “do you speak of me with such disdain?”

“Those senators were sycophants for your father and would do anything to further his agenda,” you contend as you walk past a nearby peony bush, dancing your hands over the blooming, fuschia buds. “Even if it means manipulating you as a means to your deceased father’s end.” 

You can see Emperor Geta beginning to shake and take quick breaths through his nose. He rushes at you with gritted teeth and you raise your arms ready to push back against him if he were to strike, “Tread carefully, you speak of things of which you have no understanding.” 

“You can build this reign to leave your legacy for Rome,” you maintain, holding your arms in front of your body, “not for those senators, not for your brother, not for Macrinus.” 

You wait to gauge his response at the mention of the arms dealer. You wonder if the Emperor has any inkling that Macrinus is not to be trusted. 

“Macrinus is a trusted adviser and has played a valuable role in the expansion of Rome,” Geta informs you, stepping forward to close the space between you. 

“He walks in your palace and sits at your throne as if it belongs to him,” you say, unwavering in the way you speak each word. “He is making you fight his war.”

“I am not a warmonger.” 

“I did not say you were,” you assert, gritting your teeth to hold back your frustration, “but everyone will believe you to be if you do not take charge of your own reign, dear caesar.”

He stops and looks at you, his expression softening in the moonlight.

“Geta,” he says, his voice clear and unwavering, “you may call me Geta.” 

“That’s quite familiar, is it not?”

He takes a few steps forward and traces the curve of your face with his fingertips and caresses your arms before grabbing and pulling you towards him. It’s a little rough and your breaths grow quick and heavy as he hesitates before bringing his face close to yours. He is so close that only a slip of fabric could fit between. 

“It’s something true,” he answers and pulls you in for a kiss. 

He presses a hand to your chest before he brushes it upward to place it at our cheek, intertwining his fingers in your waves before pulling you deeper into his lips. You know his lips were soft from the way you let them brush your hand earlier but the way he kisses is wet, rough, and desperate. He breaks free for a moment so you both can come up for air. You lean your head against his, listening to his breath on yours. 

“Tell me something true,” he asks and you swear you hear a hint of pain in the deepest parts of his voice. 

“Your brother is mad,” you declare, a laugh curling up the corners of your lips. 

It is an unexpected delight to see him throw his head back in laughter, especially one that isn’t manic as those you’ve heard before. It is a truth even greater than the permission granted to call him by his name. He holds an arm out for you to hold before continuing your stroll around the garden. 

***

Even as the moon rises higher and higher into the deep night sky, the guests continue to revel in the luxuries of the palace. More food and wine are shared with excess and abandon and in the quiet of the night you hear overbearing shrieks of laughter and depravity from his brother, his lovers, and other patricians who have remained to enjoy the wealth of the throne. They are jumping up and down like monkeys, mirroring and playing against Caracalla’s Dundas. Every now and then you see a splash of wine dancing in the air, you hear the clanging of goblets and the shattering of plates, and so much wine is spilling that the aroma of it inundates the garden. 

The scene from afar is unsettling, like all those who stay have gone mad. You lean over and admire the large garden fountain, your fingers are dancing through the waters when Geta advances on you from behind, seizing your arms and whipping you around to face him. His hands grip your arms with unexpected strength as he pulls you towards him. 

“You touch water with the gentleness of a butterfly,” his breath, smelling of sweet wine, is hot on you, “tells me you’ve not known the touch of a man.”

You’re frozen in a fusion of fear and excitement as he spins you back around, pressing your body onto the fountain’s cold, wet stone. He presses his body to yours, and you can feel how hard he is beneath the lavish fabric of his robes. You nearly scream as he gathers the bottom of your gown, exposing your bare lower half to the cold night air. 

“No, Geta please!” you gasp, with tears forming from the corners of your eyes. 

Not this way. You plead in your head.

He comes around to look at your face shining in the moonlight. He wipes a single tear that has fallen down your cheek. 

“Do you think me to be a savage?” his voice quivers on the edge of sanity. “That I would steal your innocence?”

You shake your head as he wipes your salty tears onto your soft lips. On instinct and desire you act on your urge to wrap your lips around his thumb. He groans at the motion and rolls his eyes in ecstasy.

“May I touch you?” He asks with unexpected earnesty.

It’s so disarming, that you nod in agreement almost immediately. You can feel his eyes admire and with immediacy his hands are roaming your derrière until his fingers find your folds. You can feel the cold metal of his rings touching your skin the deeper he pushes them in. The novelty of feeling the touch of someone’s fingers but your own is arousing and intense. You squeeze him tightly and your eyes shut tight as he moves to where you remain unbroken. 

You twitch and take a deep breath whining when he halts his ministrations. Responding in kind to your body, he takes his fingers from your pulsing center. You’re panting, scared to look  behind you to discover his next move. You tremble and shake at the touch of his hands at your bottom. You hear him drop to his knees and before you can say a word his fingers are caressing your outer lips and his wet, hot tongue licks a long thick stripe at your opening. 

“By the gods,” you almost let out a loud scream. 

The reverberations of his laughter resound at your center and he continues the worship of your womanhood. Your breath is coming out in desperate pants as he devours you. Tears of euphoria peek from the corners of your eyes as you hold an arm to your mouth to silence your screams. 

You writhe against his face, your entire body on fire as he pleasures you. Your thoughts are chaotic as you glance at the crowd inside, knowing they might hear you, knowing they might find you at any moment. But even more, your body responds to every new sensation brought on by Geta’s tongue and mouth. The fullness of his lips imprint themselves on your body and soul as he devotes particular attention to the bud at your center—kissing it, sucking it as though it were a honeycomb given to him, personally, as a gift from the gods.

How were you to stifle your moans, how were you to hide this unbridled pleasure as he drinks you with the thirst of a man who has traversed a desert? Your breaths grow faster as though you are running a marathon and with each twist and brush of his tongue his name slips repeatedly from your lips. The quaking that emanates from your center is traveling to every part of your body in waves of pleasure you never knew possible. You come to the understanding that perhaps Emperor Geta does not care if you are found, perhaps he even wants it. 

“I---I can’t!!” You cry out, clutching the fabric of your gown between your fingers. 

“Yes,” he groans, then shakes his head, with a deep, voracious growl as he squeezes your thighs and buries his face deeper into you, “yes, you can.” 

In that moment you believe him and let go. And as your sex spills all over his face, you cry out his name into the night and the garden air. A laugh of satisfaction floats from his chest as he stands, allowing you a brief moment to compose yourself. Still catching your breath from your climax, he pulls you up to face him. You look at him with apprehension, unsure of what he will do and what you should do next. He caresses a few wayward tendrils of hair away from your face and lifts your chin with an unexpectedly gentle hand. Your slick shines on his face as he draws you near and kisses you, You can taste yourself, him, and the small remnants of wine that linger on his tongue. 

You stare at each other in silence, the raucous laughter, conversation, and music continues to permeate throughout the garden. They barely notice you through their hypnotic decadence. Geta then takes you by the hand leading you through the moonlit garden to his study. You notice the same palace guard from earlier following you. Scrolls and books line the wall and you can’t help but admire how the silver moonlight fills the room. 

“Wait here,” Geta commands, leaving you at a chair in the center of the room as he leaves with his loyal guard. 

Your eyes travel over the room, imagining what wonders and knowledge await you in the scrolls and books. Is it something that Geta would even allow? 

After several moments, Geta returns, his face free of any remaining makeup that adorned his face. His ornate, multi-layered tunics are gone in favor of a simpler robe yet still opulent with its gold embroidered leaves. He holds it at the waist and your body reacts to the sight of his bare chest he’s chosen to reveal to you. You grip the corners of your seat and the feeling of him stalking you comes over you again, despite only two of you being in the room. What did he want from you in a room where there was no escape?

And suddenly, he is standing before you. He takes a hand to your hair, a palm to your face, and his fingers to your chin tilting your gaze up to him. Your hand finds his arm, caressing it until your hand meets his. You lift his hands to your lips, placing a soft kiss on each finger. 

“Tell me,” you request, feeling your want grow for him, “how can I serve my emperor?” 

He looks upon you in an amalgamation of disbelief, desire, and appreciation. He licks his lips and smirks before opening his robe. A deep sigh escapes you at the sight of him. In the lamp light, his cock is perfectly lit, standing at attention for you. You know what he wants, but you want him to say it. 

“My lord?” You ask again. “Geta?

“Kneel.” He demands. 

Your heart and core pounds in equal measure as you bring your hands to the base of his cock. You wrap your right hand around him and pump up and down the length of him. He moans a prayer to the gods as you work on him. It turns into an even louder gasp as you take each of his balls into your mouth, rolling them along your tongue. Then with a long, wide flattening of your tongue, you taste him all the way to his weeping tip until you wrap your lips around it. 

“I am the gods’ favorite son,” he moans to the heavens, “to have been blessed with this.” 

You look up at him, his mouth agape as you move your mouth on him. He grabs your hair with his ring adorned fingers and pushes deeper into your mouth. With tears forming at the corners of your eyes, you fight against your gag reflex. A few adjustments at the back of your throat is just the thing you need to return your focus on taking him in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, pulling him deeper until his cock-head hits the back of your throat.

His hand still holds on firmly to your wavy tresses while you keep your eyes on him. You know he is close from the way his breath comes out in desperate gasps and moans to the way his legs shake beneath him. After a few deep and unrelenting sucks, you focus your tongue and mouth on the head of his cock with quick shallow sucks. His praise for you echoes against the walls of the study until you return once again to slow, deep sucks until his voice quivers and his entire body follows with it. He pushes in a few final thrusts to the back of your throat and as he softens you taste him release within you and you swallow it all. A bit tries to escape your lips and you savor the last of it with your tongue. 

You hold each other’s gaze, breathless and knackered. Geta’s eyes are heavy and glassy with bliss and his neck and chest are flush with lust. He pulls you to standing and pushes your mussed hair from your face. He crushes his lips to yours in gratitude. 

“Only the gods could have promised a woman like you for me,” he says with undeniable pride. “A woman like you are what empresses are made of.”

Your heart skips a beat and beyond one lick of your soft, puffy lips you smile at him. Confidence presses your shoulders back to meet the same posture as your dear emperor. You bask in this moment, in this position knowing it is not only the one you deserve, but the one you have earned.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Ravi Drabble

Or, Ravi wakes up next to MC for the first time.

Ravi’s life is a tightrope act.

Every minute–every second–he stands balanced on the edge of a knife. His feet carefully placed on the wire, doing everything in his power to keep his balance. One misstep, one tiny mistake, could bring everything crashing down around him.

He doesn’t make mistakes.

Or at least, he didn’t. He’s careful. Precise. He’s memorized his script and performs it well. He knows his limits. Knows the rules. He bends them, sometimes, but never far enough to break. Why would he? Risking life and limb for such miniscule payoff would be unthinkable–would be pointless. Better to stay in the lines.

But it isn’t as easy anymore. Not now that he has something to lose. Now that he’s met you.

He supposes the first cracks began to show when he befriended Jay. That was mistake number one. He knows better than letting himself get close to people. And yet, when Jay showed up on his doorstep with a friendly smile and a host of questions about the recently deceased, Ravi couldn’t make himself turn them away. 

Befriending Jay led to befriending their family. Their mother, previously something like a colleague and held as far out as his hands could reach. Their sister, just a child, but so fearless and endearing that it was impossible to dislike her. And then, all of a sudden he’s socializing, interacting with the town in ways he hadn’t since…

And then you.

He still would have searched for you without Jay. He couldn’t avoid the feeling tugging at his wrists and ankles, the pulsating need behind his ribs. There was something it needed him to see. He had a feeling. But would he have been able to rush into the water and pull you to safety? Pump at your heart until it sprung back to life?

Ravi is a purveyor of death. The closest thing to the grim reaper made flesh that Easthaven has. He’s the undertaker, the shadow in the corner of your daughter’s funeral, the one who puts your father in the ground. 

What does he know about life?

Nothing, he thinks as he watches you.

He sits at the foot of his bed, his legs crossed neatly in front of him. You lay curled on your side, eyes fluttering and breath even. Moonlight halos you in a soft white haze. You look angelic–or perhaps magical. A being of pure light given form, sent to destroy him.

He sits in his tattered old EHS sweatshirt, one of the surviving relics of his time in school. Last night, when he asked you to stay, he knew he wasn’t ready to take it off. No matter what happened. He likes you–too much–but he can’t. Nobody has ever seen him laid bare, not since…

Not since he was hurt, since he lost–

Fuck.

He can’t think about it. Not with you here, blissful and unaware. It feels like a betrayal, though he isn’t sure who he’s betraying. You? Him? He’s gone, and you’re here, and it’s been so long anyway that he should be past it. Maybe he’s betraying you both.

Ravi knows he’ll have to tell you eventually. That’s what people in love do, isn’t it? Talk to each other? He isn’t sure he knows how. Honesty has never been his strong suit.

If befriending Jay was the first crack in his carefully crafted life, then meeting you was like taking a sledgehammer to it. He doesn’t understand what it is about you that drives him insane. You get under his skin without even meaning to. He wants to get under yours, in every possible way, and it’s making him crazy.

Before he met you he was frozen. Frozen in grief, frozen in ice. You lit a fire directly at his core, melting him until he’s nothing but a puddle on the floor. No–more than that. Steam in the air. You set him alight, make him burn.

Ravi sighs. He’s being melodramatic.

The problem is, he doesn’t know how to be reckless anymore. It’s a language half-forgotten, like his mother tongue. When you don’t have anyone who shares the language, it can be hard to remember. How do you practice? The loss is incredible.

You make him want to be reckless. So why not start now?

He moves quickly, half-crawling up the bed until he’s at your side. He slept here, arms around you, drinking in your warmth. He only pulled away when he woke up and realized he needed to think about this. To consider his actions going forward.

He’s sick of thinking. Instead he wraps his fingers around your hand, pulls it upwards. Kisses the flat of your palm. You’re so warm. So alive. You stir and he shifts downward until he’s pressing his lips to your wrist. He feels your pulse jump there and smiles.

“What’re you doing?” you murmur, staring at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Tasting you,” he teases, his tongue darting out to flick against the skin of your wrist.

You shiver, and his smile grows. He keeps kissing his way up your arm. Despite his teasing he doesn’t taste you again–instead he focuses on memorizing every part of you. You shift beneath him until you’re on your back. Perfect–he adjusts until he’s straddling you. 

Ravi kisses the curve of your elbow, the edge of your shoulder. Finds the place where your neck connects and buries his face inside. He could live here, he thinks. You’re warm and solid and alive. The most alive anyone has ever been.

He kisses your neck and your breath catches. 

He pulls back until he’s nearly sitting upright, his weight on his knees to either side of you. Your hands find his thighs and fuck it feels good. He isn’t used to being touched and the feeling of it might drive him mad. 

Maybe you were sent to destroy him. He isn’t sure he cares.

“You look beautiful,” Ravi whispers, before swooping down again to press his lips against yours.

The kiss starts gentle. Almost chaste. He just wants to feel you, nothing more, but then your arms are around his neck. You pull closer, press harder against him, and he can’t resist kissing you deeper. It goes until you break away gasping.

Ravi lets himself fall to the side until he’s lying on his back beside you. He needs to catch his breath. He needs a cigarette. His hands shake as he stares up at the ceiling, in wonder of you at his side. 

You nestle in close and he wraps an arm around you. His eyes flutter shut when you lean up and press a kiss against his neck. Emotion coils up in his chest, so intense he can hardly take it. There’s so much feeling that it hurts. He isn’t used to feeling things. Not like this. 

This might be a mistake. Getting close to people always is. But…

He thinks you might be worth it.

[lurkingshan]

Dead Friend Forever is a Marvel of Mystery Writing

I haven’t been watching Dead Friend Forever live, because I am not always that into the slasher genre and I figured I would wait to hear whether it holds up before jumping in. I admit, I was a bit dubious about a drama sustaining a slasher narrative for 12 entire weeks and didn’t want to spend time on something that might be too shallow to sustain and would end up falling apart. I basically told bestie @wen-kexing-apologist to vet it for me and holler if I needed to start paying attention. And a few weeks ago, they started poking me with increasing intensity, along with a few other friends, because the writing was holding up better than they could believe. I started asking questions, and once @ginnymoonbeam mentioned that Sammon was the writer, it all started to click and I dove into a binge to catch up.

And they were right! This show is excellent, and its strength is sourced in an incredibly strong script from a writer who knows how to construct a longform mystery. Because it turns out, that’s what this show actually is. How do you sustain a slasher for 12 weeks? By embedding a deeper mystery within the slasher framework and pacing your story so that the entire middle delivers a backstory narrative that is even more compelling than the current events. This show is expertly structured to grab your attention and then get you deeply emotionally invested in the coming bloodbath, which is crucial for a slasher to feel like it has any stakes. Let me also note that the excellent writing here is supported by extremely smart direction and editing and some standout performances from young actors. I am going to focus on the writing here because that’s what I do, but it should be said that this whole production is all around excellent. 

So let’s talk about why the writing in Dead Friend Forever works so well! Great drama mysteries should support two kinds of engagement from the viewer: 

no thoughts head empty engagement from the people who just want to be pulled along for the ride and be constantly surprised

red string board theory engagement for the people who enjoy finding clues and trying to solve the mystery in advance. 

It’s actually really fucking hard to thread this needle as a writer, because it requires seeding strong enough clues that attentive viewers could reasonably guess some of the big reveals, but not giving away so much that you are unable to surprise them. A reveal in a good mystery should have you saying “oh my god WHAT” and “of course, that makes perfect sense” at the same time. And the best mysteries support the viewer being able to go back and rewatch, find new meaning they missed the first time, and realize every single thing that happened adds up. A tight mystery has no loose ends and no false steps; it never lies to the viewer, it only works to draw your attention where it wants it at any given point in the story.

Dead Friend Forever does this masterfully with several of its reveals, but I will highlight the biggest example: the reveal of Phee and Non’s relationship in episode 7. In the first four episodes of the show, the story lets us in on a few crucial facts: Phee is newer to this friend group (along with Tan and White), he was not present for whatever went down with Non three years ago, he has some kind of fucked up not!friends with benefits relationship with Jin that involves lots of sexual tension and dick biting, and he seems interested in figuring out what the hell happened once all these dudes start acting crazy about the videos. The string board theorists had enough to go on there to reasonably guess that he was intentionally trying to uncover the truth—but not why—and the no thoughts head empty crowd could just vibe, enjoying his scenes with Jin and wondering how exactly he ended up hooking up with him and getting involved with this group of people he doesn’t even seem to like.

Once we get to the backstory and see Non’s narrative, additional clues emerge, like the existence of both an older brother and a mysterious sweetheart that is only saved as [heart emoji] in Non’s phone. No thoughts head empty is over here going huh I wonder who they’re gonna be and hey when are the rest of the characters going to show up; string board theorists now have two clear options for how Phee could tie in to Non’s story and why he might care enough to investigate, but no one knows for sure. So when the show ended episode 6 with Phee running into Non’s room and began episode 7 with The Most Effective Five Minute BL Of All Time, everything clicked into place. No thoughts head empty got to experience a very pleasant shock moment, the string board theorists got to feel satisfied that they figured out at least part of the reveal, everyone got to enjoy an unexpected shot of romance in the middle of this stressful narrative, and there were still parts of Phee’s motives and involvement with this group that we didn’t understand and would require additional reveals. That is great mystery writing in a nutshell.

And it’s not only the mystery construction that makes the writing here so smart. It’s also the way Sammon is weaving in tons of social commentary, embedding Thai cultural and religious values, incorporating complicated crimes with lots of players in the mix that somehow don’t get confusing, and drawing complex and nuanced characters whose choices and behavior you understand even if you find them abhorrent. It’s not easy to make a viewer both despise a character and still care what happens to them; when you write a story about despicable people you run the risk of inspiring apathy in the audience, which is a death knell for a mystery. We have to be invested for this story to work. We have to feel deep empathy for Non to the point that we fully support axe murdering his bullies, but we also have to be interested enough in the bullies and why they behave the way they do to watch 12 weeks of them running around being awful to each other and harming everyone in their paths. And Non, too, gets to have real complexity. He is not a perfect little Mary Sue who never does anything wrong. He makes big impulsive mistakes, and seeks attention and affection from the wrong people, and lies to the ones he loves, and doesn’t always ask for help when he needs it. He is a flawed human being and that’s so important, because he is the center of this story and we need him to feel real.

In conclusion: holy shit. I tip my hat to you, Dr. Sammon, and I am very excited to be on this ride for the final four episodes. 

[absurdthirst]

Their Greatest Performance {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader x Javi Gutierrez}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: MMF relationships, simulated sex, public groping, voyeurism, vaginal sex, threesomes, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), anal sex (m/m), unprotected sex, hand jobs, cum eating

Comments: On-set of his latest screenplay, Javi walks into a trailer to find you and Dieter Bravo having sex, opening him up to desires that he never expected to be able to experience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList || Javi Gutierrez MasterList

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Fuck baby. So good.” Dieter groans, kissing along your neck, and you lift your leg over his hip. 

“So good baby.” You rock up to meet his thrusts. 

“I love you. Love you.” He murmurs and you whimper, throwing your head back. 

“And cut!” The director calls and Dieter pulls back from you, shifting off of you and your assistants rush over with your robes. Javi watches from afar and swallows down the arousal that stirs in his stomach from watching you and Dieter acting out one of the scenes he had written. His third screenplay is a romantic comedy starring two of the most popular actors in Hollywood right now and he just so happens to find them both incredibly attractive.

“Javier-“ You slip into your robe and close it with the sash to turn to smile towards the writer. “Question. Does my character want to vocalize more? I feel like she would moan just a little bit more than she is now . She’s like completely enthralled, right?” 

The director had decided that all questions about the characters were to be directed towards Javi Gutierrez, the man who had written the script and one of Hollywood’s hottest writers right now. His two previous scripts had won so many awards that this one was already getting buzz.

It’s easy to get flustered around you. You’re so beautiful and he loves how you really understand the script, his vision. He bites his lip and takes a small step closer to you. “She’s enthralled and - and ready to- to orgasm. It’s been months of build up to this moment. Will they? Won’t they? It’s finally there and she wants to enjoy it. I don’t think she would be quiet.” He says, blushing a little at his saucy words despite the dirty notes he had written in the script.

Javi flusters adorably as he gives you analysis in the character, making you smile as you listen to him in just the robe and modesty pads underneath. It’s been wonderful working with him, the scripts are his babies and it’s his vision that is being brought to life. Turning towards the director, you motion him over. “I think we need to reshoot with more vocalizations.” You hum. “Maybe add some heavy breathing during the voice over recordings?”

Dieter comes over, robe loosely tied and he nods, “I agree. Needs to be more desperate. It’s not needy enough.” He says and Javi feels something stir in his stomach when his dark eyes meet the Oscar winning actors. There’s something incredibly enthralling about him and Javi clears his throat to clear his mind. “Shall we give it another go?” He asks and the director nods, “back to one.” Your assistants come over to take your robes and Javi bites his lip as he watches Dieter settle between your legs.

“You just wanted to make out with me again.” You tease under your breath as the prop directors and lighting people adjust around you. While some people imagined it was very intimate and the emotions were real, love making scenes were often arduous and took forever to get right. The only good thing about reshooting this scene is that you were tangled up with Dieter. For all his bullshit, he was a great actor and a scene partner. His cock twitches through the modesty sock against your mound and you hear him chuckle.

”My trailer or yours?” He murmurs, reaching up and settling his hand against your cheek like the scene calls for. You don’t answer, the director calling for silence on the set. 

“Scene three, take two.” The marker is snapped and you hear the director call for action. 

Dieter is quick to press his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and he groans when you tangle your fingers in his hair. Moving his hips like he’s fucking you, he leans in to bite down on your earlobe. “You want me deep inside of you?” He murmurs, “I bet you’re soaking wet, aren’t you?” He hums and you throw your head back, “yes!” You cry and Javi swears his cock jumps in his pants at the breathy way you moan. Fuck, watching you and Dieter has him hard and aching and he has to keep sneaking behind the catering table to adjust himself.

The scene is like a well choreographed ballet. Every move practiced and rehearsed meticulously. It blends with the previously shot scenes, although you are more vocal. “Oh fuck baby, I love you.” You gasp, eyes fluttering when Dieter snaps his hips to simulate at particularly rough thrust. “So good, so good, Jav.” You had wondered when the character's name is Javier if Javi had been slightly self-indulgent in this script, but you didn’t mind it. Even if you were fucking Dieter Bravo off set, you can admit that you wouldn’t mind Javi Gutierrez in your bed.

Javi watches with rapture as Dieter rocks against you, listening to you moan his name. It’s intoxicating and he knows he’s going to have to disappear to jerk off, imagining you moaning his name with him inside of you. Dieter looks gorgeous, rocking into you, jaw clenched, and Javi can’t wait to see the playback. “Oh fuck baby. I’m gonna - need you to cum first.” Dieter groans, shifting his hand down to “rub your clit.”

This time when you “cum”, your cries are more like a gasping sob, overwhelmed in the best possible way and Dieter starts to change the rhythm to the ending scene again. “Fuck baby. So good.” Dieter groans, kissing along your neck, and you lift your leg over his hip. 

“So good baby.” You rock up to meet his thrusts. 

“I love you. Love you.” He murmurs and you whimper, throwing your head back. Blending it into the previous scene and the set claps when the director calls cut this time. 

“Oh that was better!” You grin, letting go of your co-stars hair and patting his cheek before he moves back. No one on set knows you are fucking and you prefer to keep it that way.

Javi swears he nearly cums when he hears your cries and he clenches his fists, only loosening them when the director calls him over to watch the playback. You and Dieter are wrapped in robes and come over to watch the playback and Javi inhales sharply when you both crowd around him and the director, your body pressed against his.

“That’s going to get ‘hottest kiss’.” Dieter crows smugly and tosses you a smirk over his shoulder. “Maybe even ‘best intimate scene’.” 

You hum and reach out to rub Javi’s back. “He’s the one who envisioned it.” You coo.

Your hand on his back makes his stomach twist and he tries to shove down his desires, to focus on his work and to be professional. “You are the ones who made it come to life.” Javi compliments you and Dieter, “it’s beautiful. Just like I imagined and it feels so real.” He says in awe, watching the way you close your eyes in ‘bliss’ on the screen.

“Are we breaking for lunch?” You ask, knowing you need to go to your trailer for a bit. Although if the director needs to push through to film the next scene, you will. “No, we are going to rub you down for the after sex chat.” You nod and when the makeup girl comes over, you step off to the side to remove your robe and let her prepare your shoulders.

Javi watches you and Dieter get prepared and he admires the muscles in the leading actors back, so strong and broad. He isn’t sure who is more beautiful, you or Dieter. He’s struggling, not sure what to say or do when his attraction is starting to get the better of him. Thankfully, the director calls for you to get into position.

“I don’t want to be away from you either baby.” Dieter murmurs, caressing your back, fingertips brushing along your spine. “I love you. So much. They can’t keep us apart now.” He smiles, knowing the script calls for you and his character Javier to be parted for a while. It’s going to be his second Oscar, he can feel it. “We will be together.” He vows, sealing his promise with a soft kiss. “And cut!” The director yells and Dieter resists the urge to kiss you again.

You grin as you sit up, not bothering to cover your breasts. Everyone on this set has seen them all day. “How was that? Another take?” You ask, glancing from the director to Javi. You don’t miss the way that his eyes drop to your chest and you feel your cunt clench as he tightens his hand into fists. You know that he’s attracted to you and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you wanted him.

“Let’s watch it back.” The director orders and Javi watches it on the screen, loving how beautiful you are, ethereal, with the ‘morning light’ shining over you. 

“You think he likes it?” Dieter asks, his eyes watching Javi as he sits up next to you, his hand discreetly squeezing your hip.

“I hope so.” You murmur quietly. “When we break for lunch, can you come to my trailer?” You ask, your core dripping with need and you know that your lunch hour will be filled with a frantic fucking that will satiate you until the end of the work day. “I need you to fuck me.”

Dieter groans softly, “always down for fucking you.” He promises, knowing you will soak his cock again and again now he knows what you like. He remembers the first time you slept together after the first rehearsal and you decided to come over to his place to practice some lines and you ended up sitting on his face. “You want me to make you cum, baby girl?” He coos, unaware that Javier is glancing over at you both.

“Fuck yes.” You answer breathlessly, reaching over and quickly squeezing his cock before letting go. You know that most won’t care if you are fucking Dieter, but you don’t want there to be another set of rumors running around the set. Your co-star already has a wild reputation, especially after the split from Anika and Kate, you don’t want to be looked at as another notch on his bedpost. “Want you to bend me over this time.” 

“Whatever baby wants, baby gets.” He promises with a wink and you shuffle off of the bed so you can shrug on your robe. Dieter grunts as he stands up, trying to conceal his semi until his robe is on. It’s not unusual for actors to get hard during sex scenes but he doesn’t like to parade it. That’s for you later. “I think it’s time for lunch. That’s a wrap for this scene.” The director calls and then the AD announces lunch.

Javi stares at the two of you in shock, his cock throbbing at what he had just watched. You had reached over and groped Dieter’s cock and he doesn’t know who he is more jealous of. You for touching Dieter, or the other man for being able to feel your lusty touch. He doesn’t think about food, watching as the two of you discreetly slip out the doors with a pointed look at each other and he wonders if you are going to meet up to fuck. He has to follow you, the urge to find out overwhelming him as he reaches down to adjust himself again. 

“Such a fucking tease.” Dieter whines when he enters your trailer, immediately gripping your hips. “You know how fucking sexy you are.” He groans when you wrap your arms around his neck and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue immediately sliding in and he unties your robe, shoving it off of your shoulders.

“Always so greedy.” You moan quietly, sliding your hands under his robe to pull off the modesty sock and wrap your hand around his hardening cock. “I want you to fuck me, Dieter.”

“I’m going to. Gonna fucking ruin you.” He promises, shrugging off the robe and he squeezes your ass, guiding you back towards the small bed in your trailer. “So fucking sexy. Wanted to fuck you then and there.” He confesses, flipping you onto your hands and knees and he grips your hips. “Want me to fuck you?” He asks as you wiggle your ass.

“Yes.” You mewl, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. Dieter, for all his bullshit, is fucking great in bed. Especially when he’s not high, which he’s not been using as much since his last rehab stint. “Baby please, I need you so badly, so fucking wet from filming.”

He grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he groans as he pushes inside of you. “Fuck baby.” He pants, loving how good you feel around him. No one feels as good as you. “Gonna fuck you.” He promises, pushing deep inside of you, his hips digging into your ass.

You love how eager Dieter is. How he is always willing to fuck you whenever. Even if he can’t get it up, he will have you sit on his face, basking in the praise of your cries. Right now, you moan quietly. Aware that someone could pass by the trailer and you don’t want to attract too much attention. Although you know Dieter is an exhibitionist.

Javier is walking up to the trailer when he hears your cries, his cock twitching and he knows he should knock but his mind is clouded with need and desire. He grips the door handle and he opens it. His dark eyes wide at the sight that greets him. Dieter thrusting hard and deep inside of you. “Fuck.” Javi groans softly to himself, frozen in the doorway.

“Fuck!” Your eyes widen but Dieter doesn’t stop rocking into you, groaning when he sees Javier standing in the doorway. 

“Fuck, close the door.” Dieter tells him, fingers digging into your hips. “Watch her cum.”

Javi’s jaw drops and he quickly shuts the door. The slap of Dieter’s hips against your ass is the only sound in the room and Javier leans against the wall. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t -” 

Dieter shakes his head, “stay. Watch her. I know you want to.”

Your eyes meet his, body rocking forward every time Dieter’s cock spears into you. You moan at the wickedness of it. “You should suck his cock baby.” Dieter suggests, “he’s getting hard watching me fuck you.” Your eyes drop down to his tented trousers and your mouth starts to water. “Let her suck your cock, Javi. You should feel how tight she just got when I suggested it.”

“No. I - I should go.” He shakes his head, about to open the door, but you shake your head. 

“Come here. I want to.” You tell him and Javi bites his lip, meeting Dieter’s gaze. He nods and Javi knows he can't turn down this opportunity. He walks over to the bed, working on his belt and he’s soon pulling his cock out. 

He’s throbbing, still aching from watching you and Dieter act. “Do you want to suck my cock, hermosa?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“Fuck me.” Dieter’s eyes widen at the other man’s thick cock. “If you were into men, I would want to suck your cock.” Javi nearly chokes and Dieter groans at the thought. He twitches deep inside you, making you moan as you reach out to wrap your fingers around his girth. 

“I really want to suck your cock, Javi.” You lean forward and take the tip into your mouth as Dieter continues to rock into you.

Javi’s eyes widen as you look up at him, taking him deeper into your mouth, and he groans. “Mierda.” He hisses, unable to believe how hot your mouth is, and his gaze flicks up to meet Dieter’s. “She’s good, huh?” He asks and the Spaniard nods, “so good.” Dieter chuckles, rocking into you and he slaps your ass so you moan around his cock.

Your fingers hook into his belt loops and drag him closer. He moans quietly and your lips stretch into a smile as you pull back to flick your tongue over the head and take him back into your mouth.

Dieter slows down his pace a little but he thrusts harder, forcing Javi’s cock further down your throat, and you moan around his girth, stretching your jaw. 

“Shit.” Javi hisses, cupping the back of your head and Dieter smirks, “you look so handsome when you’re being pleasured. Wouldn’t mind some of that directed at me.”

Javi sputters, thinking Dieter is teasing him, but the actor reaches out and drags Javi closer to him, making him hunch over and push his cock down your throat. Taking advantage of the way his mouth drops open to slide his tongue into the writer’s mouth.

Javi reacts immediately, sliding his tongue against Dieter’s and he has never been with a man like this before. He’s imagined it several times but has never acted on his desires. He cups Dieter’s cheek, groaning into his mouth when you swallow around his cock and Dieter keeps pushing inside of you.

You whine around Javi’s cock, imagining how sexy the two men look sharing a kiss. Reaching down, you fondle Javi’s balls and it makes him buck up into your mouth, nearly choking you. Still he doesn’t pull his hips back, just groaning above you as he kisses your lover.

Dieter makes the kiss last, knowing that Javier hasn’t had this experience before. He wants you to cum on his cock so he reaches for Javier’s hand, bringing it under your body and he presses his finger against your clit, using his own to rub circles so the two men pleasure you at the same time. Dieter’s cock pushing deep inside your pussy while Javi pushes down your throat while their tongues tangle.

Your moan is muffled by Javi’s cock but you keen in pleasure. Feeling your core starting to tighten and pulse as you get closer to cumming. Pushing your hips back and Dieter hits just right, making stars burst behind your eyes.

When you moan around his cock, Javi is lost. The build up to this moment, weeks of watching you and Dieter film, have him spilling down your throat and he pulls his hand away from your clit to grip your neck as you try to swallow his cum. “Goddamn that’s a pretty sight.” Dieter groans at the look on Javi’s face as he cums and Dieter isn’t ready to cum yet.

You swallow around his cock as much as you can. Dribbles of his cum escaping out of the corners of your mouth. Making you eager to lick it up after you pull off of him. Your hand caresses his hip as he rides out his high.

Javi pants, feeling better than he has in weeks, and he reaches down to caress your cheek, swiping up a drop of his cum to push it into your mouth. “So pretty.” He murmurs and Dieter grunts, starting to push deep inside of you again, seeking his own orgasm.

You gasp around Javi’s thumb. “Fuck Dee.” You moan, knowing how much he gets off on someone watching. He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips until you know you will wear bruises under the skin for days. “Oh fuck!” You squeal when he hits perfectly inside your still fluttering cunt and you squeeze him tight.

Dieter hisses when you squeeze him, like a fucking vice, and it sends him over the edge with a grunt. Burying his cock deep, he paints your walls with his cum and his eyes close while Javier watches him. His spent cock twitching with interest and Javi knows he needs to see that again and again. He doesn’t want this to be a one time thing.

It’s the little grunt of satisfaction and the way that his hands caress your hips that make you sigh. “That was good,” you whimper, loving the feeling of his cum filling you up. Dieter was negative for any STI and your birth control was assured, so it was fun to indulge in cum play. “Did you enjoy the show, Javier?”

He nods frantically, reaching out to caress your breast, cupping it in his hand. “I have watched you both for weeks, fascinated and attracted to you both. I have never been with a man but there’s something about you.” Javier confesses to Dieter who smirks. 

“Have ya seen me?” He jokes and smacks your ass. “We don’t have long left for lunch but I’m thinking we should all meet for dinner and…maybe have some more fun?” Dieter suggests, biting his bottom lip. 

“I would like that a lot.” Javi nods and you shift onto your knees, cum dripping onto the sheets below. 

“Then it’s settled…dinner after we finish filming for today.” Leaning in, you press your lips to Javi’s, making him groan as your tongue slides into his mouth and he tastes his salty cum lingering. Reaching down and carefully tucking him away before you break the kiss and pat his chest gently. “I need to clean up.” You murmur, smiling at him and then Dieter before you start to shuffle off the small bed.

Dieter watches you stumble slightly into the small bathroom and he smirks, “she’s gorgeous. So are you.” Dieter leans in to kiss Javi, wanting to taste him some more. “Dinner later…then I want you for dessert.” Dieter winks and shuffles off of the bed so he can clean himself up. 

Javi swallows, excited and nervous, and he quickly tucks himself away. “I will see you back on set.” He calls out and he makes his exit, knowing this is the beginning of something beautiful.

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director calls out and you smirk as you know that Dieter is already bouncing to get back to the hotel. 

“Javi?” You call as your assistant comes up and hands you the phone you had given her and your keys. “Would you like to get together and discuss the character more?” You know it won’t seem strange. “Ride back with me and Dieter? I know he had some questions too.”

Javi has been unable to think of anything other than you and Dieter all day so he nods, "yes. Yes." Realizing how eager he sounds, he clears his throat. "I'd like that." Dieter smirks and sends him a wink, knowing that the writer is going to experience something he has never experienced before. You grin and Javi wipes his hands on his pants as Dieter starts to guide you out of the studio.

There’s no need to change right now. The clothes you are wearing will be brought back to the studio but you have another costume just like it with the changes made for the rips in the fabric. “There’s no pressure.” You promise, both you and Dieter walking along either side of the other man. “If you don’t want to do something, it’ll be okay, we just want to have fun.”

Javi nods, knowing that you and Dieter won’t push him but he wants to try something new. He gets into the car that takes you and Dieter back to the hotel and he goes to get in the front seat but Dieter grabs him, pulling him in so you are squashed between the two men in the back seat.

“Everyone is coming back to my room,” Dieter declares. “We can order dinner and I have party favors.” He smirks, imagining getting high and experimenting with you and Javier.

Javi hasn’t taken drugs, it’s never been his thing, but he never thought he was bi when he met Dieter. Perhaps it’s time he tries something new. “Slow down baby. Javi is new to this. Be gentle.” You shake your head, reaching for Javi’s hand to squeeze it. 

“It’s okay, hermosa. I like it a little rough.” He admits with a blush and Dieter smirks, “see?”

You huff, knowing that Dieter is going to be cocky about this. He loves when men are attracted to him, especially if that man isn’t necessarily experienced. “Do you like it to be rough or to have someone be rough with you?” You ask curiously. “Do you like to spank? Bite?”

“I’m a biter.” Javi admits with a smirk, “and I am, as you say, a switch. I like to spank and be spanked.” His hands find yours and Dieter’s thighs so he can squeeze, making Dieter smirk even more. “Is that where you got your inspiration for the script?”

“There is a lot of me in this.” Javi admits, biting his lip. “I have a very good imagination.” His fingers slide up Dieter’s thigh and he’s rewarded with a grunt and a twitch of the other man’s half hard cock.

Dieter is not a shy man so he grabs Javi’s hand to put it on his cock, making him groan as he squeezes him. “You’re so long.” Javi groans and he turns his head, wanting to kiss the movie star. You’re turned on, watching Javi discover himself, and he presses his lips to Dieter’s.

You don’t feel neglected. You aren’t a person who is jealous by nature. You have no problem sharing, especially with two men as gorgeous as they are. Watching them kiss is like being given a gift.

Dieter slides his tongue against Javier’s, cupping his cheek. He groans into his mouth and loves how eager he is. Javier pulls back after a moment and turns his head, pressing his lips against yours. Sandwiched between two beautiful actors, Javier is getting hard.

Your fingers slide into Javi’s perfectly styled longer locks. Enjoying the way his curls twirl around your fingers. Kissing him just as eagerly as Dieter had.

Dieter caresses Javier's thigh, squeezing him through his slacks, and Javi groans into your mouth. "We are approaching the hotel." The driver informs you all and you reluctantly pull away from Javi. "One last stretch then I want you naked." Dieter tells Javi with a peck to his lips, and Javi reaches down to adjust himself as the car pulls up. Thankfully, the lobby is quiet since it's late and Dieter is practically sprinting to the elevator.

You walk beside Javi, laughing at Dieter as he holds the door to the car open and motions to you to hurry up. “He is eager.” You coo to Javi, feeling him start to get nervous as the time draws closer. “He’s talked about how handsome you are for weeks.”

Javier blushes at your words, "I have been attracted to you both since I saw the chemistry test. The energy between you is electric. You are both so sexy. Did you - did you sleep together before you started filming?" Javier asks as he steps onto the elevator and Dieter presses the button for the top floor, his hands finding your ass to pull you against him.

“After the table read.” You admit, biting your lip as you look over at Dieter. “We went out for some drinks and it went from there.” You aren’t ashamed of that, even if it wasn’t something that would probably last, you are having fun and enjoying yourself. Dieter can be surprisingly emotional at times and thoughtful. Leaning in, you kiss his cheek.

Dieter smacks your ass playfully, jiggling your cheeks, and you giggle, making him smirk. “Couldn’t resist this one when I heard her saying all those naughty words you wrote.” Dieter confesses, knowing his weakness is dirty talk. Javier flushes, knowing he had had to relieve himself a few times when working on those scenes, jerking off while he acted them out in his own mind. The elevator dings and Dieter grabs your hand and Javier’s, dragging you both down the hallway.

“It’s obvious this is going to be a lot of fun.” You giggle as all three of you hustle towards the suite where Dieter is staying. Of course this would happen in his room. He had the drugs and most of the toys, even the ones you have are now in his room since you end up fucking nearly every night. “We should eat dinner naked.” You decide, watching Javier’s eyes wide and he nearly stumbles over the plush carpet in the hallway.

Javier looks around the suite once the door is shut, glancing around, and he sees the coke scattered on the silver tray, the pills and the empty bottles. “Is this - you do drugs too?” Javi asks you, knowing about Dieter’s penchant for manufactured escapes but not you. His eyes look across the room to the bed where several toys are lined up and he blushes, wondering what the housekeepers must think.

“Rarely.” You shrug and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Most often it’ll just be ecstasy if I want to feel really good. But you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You assure him. “Dieter won’t mind. He offers, he doesn’t push.”

Dieter nods, coming over to caress Javi’s back, “I never push. If you want some, I’m generous. If not, it’s okay.” He promises and Javier nods, “I- I have taken LSD.” He confesses and Dieter grins, “a man after my own heart. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He promises, leaning in to peck his lips.

Watching the two men share a moment, you walk over to the book with the room service menu to decide what to order. You already know what Dieter likes and take a guess after seeing what Javi gets from crafts services. Adding a bottle of champagne and three glasses to the order, you hum as you hand up and decide to start stripping.

Javier watches you with wide eyes and Dieter smirks, leaning in. “She’s fucking gorgeous, ain’t she?” He murmurs, kissing Javier’s neck and his fingers play with the buttons on Javier’s shirt. “Wanna get naked?” He asks and Javi nods, eyes still on you as Dieter quickly removes his shirt.

You are comfortable in your skin. Perfect? No, but no one actually is. It’s enough for you that these two men want you for now and you love how dark Javi’s eyes get. “Now we get to see you nude.” You coo as you drop the last thing and start to walk over to them. “I know you are sexy. I’ve thought so since your first awards show.”

Javier blushes, suddenly shy under the lust filled stares of two movie stars. He kicks off his shoes as Dieter works on his belt while you caress his chest, and Javier surges forward to press his lips to yours, cupping the back of your neck so he can deepen the kiss.

The kiss is organic, deepening with a moan as you open up to let him explore your mouth. He’s a giver. You can tell that by the way he cups your head and his tongue strokes yours before he explores. Swallowing your sounds until he chokes out on his own and you glance down, seeing Dieter taking the other man’s cock into his mouth.

Javier pulls back from your mouth to look down at Dieter on his knees, his dark eyes meeting Javi's as he takes his cock into his mouth with a groan. "Hijo de puta." Javi curses, his hand on your waist squeezing while his other hand finds Dieter's head, running his fingers through his hair.

Dieter is a slut for praise. Javi’s hissed curse just makes the other man that much more eager to pull groans out of him. Especially since it’s very likely it’s his first blowjob by another man. He wants to make sure it’s the sloppiest, best thing that he’s ever had. Dieter considers it a point of pride to be good at sucking cock and eating pussy. “That mouth is fucking fantastic, isn’t it?” You purr, reaching down and stroking his hair with Javi. “Next time we will both suck your cock together.”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes. Sí, hermosa.” Javi is lost to the pleasure, your hand caressing his chest while he watches Dieter suck on his cock. It’s more than he could’ve ever imagined and it’s almost enough to make him cum but he exhales shakily to control himself. 

“Take him deeper.” You order Dieter and he moans, following your demand enough to make Javi choke on his own breath. “Good boy.” You coo, cupping Dieter’s soaked chin and feeling Javi’s cock twitch inside his mouth, “do you want to try?” You ask Javi. “Dee is nearly as thick as you are but he’s longer. It’s more than a mouthful.” You joke playfully.

Javi nods, wanting to see Dieter look at him with pleasure on his gorgeous face. Dieter won’t argue with receiving pleasure so he pulls off of Javi’s cock and quickly moves to sit down on the sofa. “Come on pretty boy.” Dieter coos, his cock hard against his stomach and Javi shifts to kneel down in front of him, reaching out to wrap his fingers around his hard cock, in awe of how velvety it is, hard as steel. “Guide me.” Javi orders you before he leans forward to wrap his lips around the head.

You don’t hesitate to kneel beside him, watching up close as he takes him deeper into his mouth. “Pause and swallow around him.” You urge. “Your mouth is going to water a lot with him and he loves the feeling.” Your hand slides down so you can rub your clit while your other wraps around Javi’s still wet cock to pump it.

Dieter groans, watching you and Javi kneel in front of him and he thinks this might be better than taking any drug. Javi follows your order, swallowing around Dieter’s cock and the actor curses, spitting out a “fuck.” You smirk and twist your wrist enough to make Javier groan around the cock in his mouth.

The sounds that come from the three of you are obscene. Filling the room as Javi takes Dieter deeper and deeper, getting comfortable. Wrapping his hand around the base of the other man’s length and starts stroking it.

“Fuck. He’s good.” Dieter compliments the writer, his fingers running through the curly locks of the Spaniard and he meets your gaze. “Are you enjoying yourself, baby?” He asks you, knowing you’ve wanted to touch Javi for a while.

“Yes.” You moan, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. It’s wicked and decadent and everything you’ve wanted when you thought about both men together. “I know you are.”

The kiss is dirty and sloppy and both men groan, enjoying it, and Javi’s cock twitches in your hand while Dieter’s cock twitches in his mouth. Javi’s fingers work the base and Dieter knows it won’t take long for him to cum.

Your fingers move over your clit desperately while you pump Javi’s cock. Tongue sliding against Dieter’s as he groans into your mouth. Eager to swallow them down.

Dieter pants, wordlessly telling you how close he is to his orgasm, and you whimper, watching Javi close his eyes as Dieter’s cock twitches in his throat. “Fuckkkkkk.” Dieter whines, cock pulsing and Javier tries to swallow him down but a few drops escape. When you lean in to lap them up from his chin, Dieter swears he cums again.

Javier pulls off of Dieter’s cock with a gasp and you lean forward to take it into your mouth, cleaning him up with your mouth as he whines from the overstimulation. Grinning when he gasps again and tries to shift away before you pull off and turn to kiss Javier, tasting your lover on his tongue.

Javi groans into your mouth, tongue tangling with yours, and he sighs when you reach down to squeeze his cock. “Wanna suck you off.” You tell him and Dieter shifts, looking at you with a pout. “I wanna eat your pussy. Sit on my face and suck Javi off.” Dieter orders shifting to lay down on the sofa.

Javi frowns, knowing that you had sucked him off earlier but he’s aching for release. You beckon him up onto the bed and straddle Dieter’s face in a way that shows him this isn’t the first time the actor has wanted you to sit on him. “Let me suck you off and we’ll fuck after we eat.”

Javi nods, shifting to kneel on the bed so his cock is hovering near your face. He groans when you wrap your fingers around him and Dieter is dragging you down onto his face so he can slide his tongue through your folds. “Fuck baby.” Javier groans when you take him into your mouth.

Dieter slides his tongue through your folds, making you moan around Javi’s cock and push back into him. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough that you will feel them later and you look up at Javi under your lashes. Pushing his cock down your throat just like Dieter had earlier.

“Fuck. You are so beautiful.” Javier groans, caressing your cheek, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. You are gorgeous and he loves how eager you are. How eager Dieter is. He reaches down to gently squeeze your throat, feeling his cock bulging the skin.

All you can do is moan around him, Dieter ravenously devouring your cunt and you lurch forward to choke yourself on Javi’s cock when he curls two fingers up inside you perfectly. Your orgasm is building inside you with every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers and you frantically bob on the Spaniard’s cock to make him experience as much pleasure as you are.

Javier groans, his hands caressing your shoulders as you take him again and again. “Fuck. I’m - mierda. I’m gonna-” He warns you before his cock starts to throb and pulses, the spurting of his cum coating your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut. A low groan escapes his lips as he enjoys his orgasm.

Like you had earlier, you drink down every drop you can. Enjoying the way he moans and rocks his hips shallowly until your own orgasm rockets through you and you pull off his cock to cry out Dieter’s name.

Javier almost cums against watching you writhe on top of Dieter. His tongue delves inside of you and you whine, tossing your head back and he watches with rapture. Dieter loves when you cum on his face, the way you squeeze his head with your thighs. It’s enough to make him hard again.

Panting, you give a breathless sigh as you move off Doeter. “God baby, you are so good at that.” You kiss his lips right as the knock at the door signals the food has arrived. “And so perfectly timed.”

Dieter smirks, smacking your ass before he shuffles off of the bed, picking up his robe to tie it around himself, and he makes his way to the door to let room service in. “Don’t mind the mess.” He gestures to the clothes on the floor.

You and Javier are under the covers and if the waiter thinks it’s unusual for there to be multiple people in a hotel room, he doesn’t comment. Quickly setting up the meals and leaving just as fast. “Dinner is here.” Dieter motions you over. “Come eat.”

Javier shifts to get out of the bed, walking over to the table where the food is set up and he finds his boxers on the floor. He pulls them on and sits down after pulling the chair out for you to sit down. “This looks delicious.” He hums, suddenly starving after the orgasms he’s had today.

“The hotel has great meals.” You admit. “Oftentimes Dieter and I order room service. That’s why there haven’t been many sightings of us in the area.” You hum as you settle in your chair, completely naked. “We are eating room service and having sex.”

Javi chuckles, “doesn’t sound bad to me.” 

Dieter smirks as he reaches for the burger you ordered for him. “Especially when her sweet pussy is dessert.” Dieter winks and Javi grins, excited that he can spend this time with such beautiful people. 

“I may be ordering room service more often.” Javier blushes, knowing he’s just invited himself back into your rooms.

You smirk happily and give a small shrug as you fork up your first bite. “It’s a good thing that we all like room service.” You tease, reaching under the table and squeezing his thigh. “Have you liked your night so far?” You ask. “What fantasies do you want to come true?”

Javier digs into his meal, taking a moment. “I want to - I want to have Dieter inside of me.” He says and Dieter smirks, pleased to hear that. 

“If that’s what you want. We have lube. I can make you feel you, handsome.” He promises and winks at you, “we can make his dreams come true, can’t we baby?”

“Of course we can.” You send him a wink back and fork up a bite that you know Dieter will love and offer it to him. “We are very indulgent and love to make dreams come true.”

Dieter chews on the food after wrapping his lips around the fork, groaning at the taste. “I am glad to hear that. I have a lot of dreams.” Javier hums, reaching for your hand on his thigh and he squeezes it, wanting to touch you more.

“Eat your dinner and we can make that happen.” You promise, leaning in and dropping a kiss on his lips. “I was thinking you could warm your cock inside me while Dieter breaks you open for the first time.”

Javier nods, eager and nervous for what the rest of the night holds. He has never explored this part of himself. Sure, he had admired men on the beach back on Mallorca, but he didn't act upon his desires. Too scared of the repercussions from Lucas and his father. He is free now to be who he wants and he wants to discover what he likes. He is eating faster than usual, eager to begin his exploration.

The three of you finish your meals and once everything is loaded back onto a tray, you lean over and press your lips to Javi’s. “Do you want to go to bed with us, gorgeous?” You coo, scattering kisses down his jawline. “Dieter and I both want to make you feel good. So good you won’t remember your own name.”

Javi nods, “yes baby. I want you. Both of you.” Dieter smirks and leans in, cupping his cheek to turn his head so he can press his lips to Javi’s. He then grabs your head to bring you close, bringing you in to join in on the kiss.

It’s messy. Tongues tangling and moans being exchanged but you feel the fire lighting in your belly. Eager to show this beautiful man how good pleasure can be with the three of you together.

Dieter groans, sliding his hand down to squeeze Javi through his thin boxers, his cock half hard and Dieter kisses down his neck, allowing you to kiss Javier properly, cupping his cheeks to deepen the kiss. Dieter pushes his boxers down, gripping his cock and Javi groans into your mouth at the overwhelming touches.

You hum, fully aware that Dieter is starting to get impatient. He loves pleasure and it’s either having an orgasm or getting high. Preferably both. Breaking off the kiss, you caress Javi’s cheek. “You want to move to the bed, baby? That way we can make sure you are nice and ready for Dee’s big cock?”

Javier nods, excited and nervous for what awaits him. 

“Please.” He murmurs, watching you as you kneel on the bed and shrug off his shirt that you’d picked up to eat in. You’re unbelievably sexy and Javier knows he’s lucky you want him like this. Dieter comes over, pulling the lube and a condom from the drawer. “Gonna take good care of you.” Dieter promises, shrugging off his robe.

You see the reason that Javi searches around nervously and you lean in, caressing his cheek. “Just relax, baby. Dieter knows what he’s doing and if you ever want to stop you just say the word and we will.

Javi nods, swallowing down his nerves, and he knows you will look after him, Dieter will look after you. He reaches for your hand, kissing your palm, “I want this. I want to experience this.”

“Do you want him to stretch you open with his fingers or a toy?” You ask seriously. “Dieter has a lot of toys. They are clean and perfect for this.”

“Fingers first. Then a toy.” Dieter says, knowing it will be best for him to open him up and Javier nods, “yes. I want that.” 

Dieter smiles, “then kneel on your hands and knees baby. I want you to be comfortable.”

There is something about watching this gorgeous man who is obviously nervous get into such a vulnerable position so eagerly that is amazing. Stroking his back gently, you kiss his face and hum. “I'm going to suck your cock for you while Dieter works you open, baby.

Javi feels a little overwhelmed but calms himself as he watches you shift to lay down beneath him, his eyelashes fluttering as you start to take him into your mouth. Dieter strokes his back down to his ass cheek, “relax, beautiful. I’m gonna take care of you. If you don’t like it, you tell me and we stop, okay?” He asks and Javi nods, “okay.” Squirting lube onto his fingers, Dieter circles Javi’s puckered hole and Javi moans at the sensation.

His cock twitches in your mouth, making you smirk. Knowing that he is feeling slightly vulnerable. You stroke his sides while you lunge up to take him deeper down your throat. Wanting him to feel good as he endeavors to try something new. The moment that Dieter’s finger pushes inside him, Javi lurches forward and chokes you on his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, lost in the sensations. He closes his eyes as Dieter pumps his finger until he’s adding a second one, stretching Javi out. “Fuck. You’re so handsome.” Dieter murmurs, leaning down to playfully bite Javi’s ass cheek, making the Spaniard moan in delight.

You keep mouthing at his cock as he starts to rock his hips, seeking Dieter’s fingers as he gets used to the sensation of having someone finger him. You know that he is enjoying himself, every moan gets louder and you are having to swallow every salty spurt of precum when Dieter presses up against his prostate.

“Mierda.” Javi hisses when you take him deeper and Dieter’s fingers scissor inside of him to open him up. It’s more pleasure than he’s ever felt and he’s getting closer to his orgasm. “I don’t - want to be inside - don’t want to cum yet.” He manages to spit out.

Pulling off of him, you slither out from under him and press a wet, opened mouth kiss to his lips. Cunt now dripping with arousal as you kiss Javi. Once you pull away, you can see the heavy lidded pleasure and smirk back at Dieter where he is slowly stroking his own cock as he scissors his fingers inside the other man.

​Dieter adds another finger, not wanting Javi to be in pain, and when Javi grinds back onto his digits, he knows he is ready. With a smirk, Dieter withdraws his fingers and reaches for the lube, coating his hard cock and smothering more on Javier’s puckered hole. “Are you ready, handsome?” He asks, caressing his ass.

You pet his face as he nods, biting his lip. “I am.” He manages. “Just- just be gentle.” You click your tongue and press your lips to his cheek. “Dee will be very gentle.” You promise him. “And when you are ready, I’ll get under you so you can slide inside me.”

Javier nods, bracing himself as Dieter starts to push inside of him, and he knows this is going to be a little uncomfortable despite Dieter doing a good job opening him. “Oh.” Javi grunts when Dieter pushes past the ring of muscle, “you doing okay?” The actor asks and Javi nods, closing his eyes.

“It’s- fuck-“ Javi spits, trying not to squirm but it’s almost too much. He had never thought that he would ever feel this, panting slightly at the sensation. You kiss him, murmuring words of praise and tell him how good he’s doing. How fucking hot the two of them look and how you can’t wait to feel his cock inside you. After long minutes, Dieter's hips are flush with his ass and he is completely buried inside the other man.

Javi groans when Dieter starts to pull out, making him hiss in pleasure and that’s when you start to shift underneath him. “Both of you. Hermosas. So beautiful.” He murmurs, lost in the pleasure running along his spine from Dieter inside of him. The actor leans over, kissing the writer’s back, and he coos, “you’re taking me so well.”

“Jesus, I need you inside me.” You pant, wanting to be a part of something so gorgeous that it is making you greedy. Propping your legs on Javi’s hips, you feel Dieter’s hands caressing your thighs. “How are you feeling, handsome?” You coo, looking up at Javi’s wrecked face.

Javi is overwhelmed but feeling pleasure like he’s never known. “I- fuck. I feel so good.” He pants, “I need - I want you.” He murmurs and you smile, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his cock, guiding him inside of you. Javi drops his hips and Dieter follows him, allowing Javier this moment to push inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuck.” You whine, throwing your head back in pleasure at how thick Javi is. Dieter is amazing but you love the way Javi’s cock pushes against your walls as he breaks you open. “Oh fuck baby.” You bite your lip and caress his side, feeling the weight of both men on top of you.

Dieter groans, caressing your thighs as he pushes into Javier which sends the Spaniard deeper inside of you. Javier pants, the pleasure is mind blowing and he cannot believe how good it feels to have Dieter inside of him. “Is it - is it good?” Javi asks you, wanting you to be pleasured too.

“Yes.” You promise him, arching up and rolling your hips as both men start to move. “Yes, oh fuck yess!” You moan when they both thrust forward and the feeling is intense.

You whimper and Dieter squeezes your calf. “She loves it. She sounds like she’s sopping wet around your cock.” Dieter squeezes Javi’s ass, leaning down to kiss his back. “Gonna make her cum?” Dieter asks and Javi nods, “yes. Yes.”

The pace starts slow, the two men start to find their own rhythm as they pull their hips back and push them forward. All you can do is take it and moan your approval. Each time the throaty cries fall from your lips and you feel Javi twitch inside you as he watches you.

It’s a beautiful sight, the three of you moving in tandem to pleasure and please each other. Dieter is groaning at the way Javi grips his cock while Javi groans at the way you are fluttering around his length. His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, shifting onto his elbows so he can press his lips to yours.

Humming into the kiss, you start to slide your tongue into his mouth. Keeping your tongue eager and searching as you kiss him. Your legs tighten around him, urging them on as he starts to whine, the man behind picking up his pace as he starts to get greedy for more pleasure.

Dieter grunts, picking up his pace, and he can feel himself getting closer. Javi is tight and he is struggling to keep his composure. “I’m - shit - you feel too good. Gonna make me cum.” Dieter admits and Javi moans into your mouth, pulling back to say “do it. Want you to cum inside of me.” Dieter can’t hold back after that, surging forward to bury his cock deep and he fills Javi with his hot seed.

Javi’s eyes flutter closed, moaning quietly as he experiences Dieter filling him up. Triggering his own orgasm as he lets out a choked cry. Hot spurts of cum fill you up and he bites his lip as he realizes that you didn’t cum before he blew his load.

Dieter frowns, shifting to look down at you. “Did you cum baby?” He asks and you bite your lip, hesitating to answer. Dieter nods, slowly pulling out of Javi and the writer moans, pulling out of you and he moves fast to shift between your legs, his tongue immediately sliding through your folds.

Whining in surprise, you tangle your fingers into his hair. Dieter groans, admiring the way his cum is starting to push out of Javi before he slides down beside him and pushes your thigh up onto his shoulders so he can dive into your cream filled cunt as well.

Javi shifts over so Dieter can flick his tongue over your clit while Javi pushes his tongue inside of you, his hand sliding up to squeeze your breast. Both men are eager to make you cum, both men want you to fall apart under their tongues.

Closing your eyes, you gasp their names one after the other. One hand curls into Javi’s hair and the other gripping the sheets as they make your cunt the sole focus of their attention. Lapping at his cum from your walls, Javi groans into your fluttering cunt while you feel the tension building in your core. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Dieter sucks harder on your clit, wanting you to fall apart, and when you shake, he knows you’re cumming. Javi pushes his tongue deep, wanting to feel it, and you gasp out as you orgasm for the two men between your thighs.

Your scream is loud, echoing around the room as you fall apart for both men. Eyes cinched shut and tugging on Javi’s hair. Shuddering under the pressure of your orgasm.

Javi laps at your folds, savoring the tangy taste of you combined with his cum, and Dieter sucks your clit until you are pushing his head away. “So fucking perfect.” Dieter murmurs, kissing your mound when you run your fingers through his hair.

“We need to do this again.” You pant out with a breathless chuckle. Looking down at the two men with a very satisfied smile. “What do you think?”

“Oh we are doing this again. And again. And again.” Dieter smirks, leaning in to kiss Javi so he can sample the combined taste of you and him from his tongue. “I think this is the start of something beautiful.” Javi responds when Dieter pulls away from the kiss. 

**** 

“Dieter! Dieter! Javier!” The photographers shout as the two men stand side by side and they are called over to where you are being interviewed. “This movie is about love and tragedy and redemption. What would you say your greatest inspiration for this movie was?” The interviewer asks Dieter who chuckles and wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Well, I’d say being able to experience love and sex and intimacy with my co-star was a great help. Falling in love with the writer tends to lead to a lot of insight too.” Dieter wraps his other arm around Javi and the photographers go wild. 

“Is that- what? Can we-?” The interviewers all scramble to speak to the trio, having heard that Dieter is with both his co-star and the writer. 

“Sorry. We have to go watch the masterpiece on screen.” You call out and one interviewer responds, 

“Javier, would you say you’re in a relationship with the actors in your movie?” She asks and Javier smiles, “I am. My greatest work yet starring the two people I love most. What more could a man ask for?” Javier responds and the trio make their way into the theater. Writing the romantic script lead to Javier finds his own romance. Something he never imagined would happen, he certainly couldn’t write it.

[legionnaireslover]

New Interview with BC in The Times!

Stephen Armstrong

Sunday May 19 2024, 12.01am BST, The Sunday Times

When did Benedict Cumberbatch go from aspiring actor to a star with the world at his feet? For some it was Sherlock, which started in 2010 and won him an ardent following of “Cumberbitches”. For others it was his Marvel films, including Doctor Strange, which was when the money started to roll in. But for his father, also an actor, it was a play his son did while at Manchester University.

“After Dad saw me in Amadeus at university, he put his arm around me and said, ‘You’re better at this than I ever was. I cannot wait to support your career. I’m so proud of you,’” Cumberbatch tells me. There’s a pause as he gathers himself, touched by the memory. “For a man to say that to his son is absolutely huge.” He grins. “And it’s not necessarily true … But the generosity to go, ‘Your turn now.’”

In previous interviews, for Sherlock and his Sky drama Patrick Melrose, I found Cumberbatch chatty, amusing and curious. Today, wearing a T-shirt, grey hoodie and cream cords, he is in a more sombre mood. He is prone to embarking on long trains of thought that sound as if he’s debating his answer as he delivers it. Perhaps it’s because he’s very tired, he says. When we last met, in 2018, his second son was barely a year old. Now he is a 47-year-old father of three boys, aged eight to four, with his wife, the theatre and opera director Sophie Hunter.

In his new television series, Eric, he plays Vincent, a dad in 1980s New York who loses his son, aged nine, near a dodgy disco with a history of child prostitution. He wasn’t sure about taking the job at first — filming was in Budapest and he worried about time away from his family, but he found the script compelling so flew back and forth.

Lucy Forbes, the director of Eric, says Cumberbatch drew on his own experience of fatherhood for the role. “We were filming a scene where he’s standing outside the school, he’s been drinking, and a single tear falls from his eye,” she says. “Five minutes before that he’d been kicking a football around. He stepped on set and wept. I said, ‘How did you manage that?’ He said, ‘Because I have three boys.’”

I relay this to Cumberbatch and he stirs uneasily. “I think drama can teach you an awful lot about yourself. If they knew where my mind was going in that scene, good luck, because even I don’t know. And I don’t need to play a bad father to realise my shortcomings as a dad.” He gives a brief laugh and shrugs. “I can’t escape myself completely. There’s always going to be elements of me at play.”

This may be why he loved the puppet work he had to do in Eric. His character is a puppeteer who runs a Sesame Street-style show called Good Morning Sunshine and Cumberbatch performs song and dance numbers with the aid of a marionette (he can sing well). “Puppets are like masks, they say the things that we can’t,” he explains. “They’re like jesters in a medieval court able to expose truths, lies, hypocrisies and idiocies. And they can risk things that we can’t.”

Cumberbatch is guarded about his family — “and this is where we come to my privacy”, he says to deflect any questions about his personal life. It’s something he has been careful about since becoming a father, and with good reason. He has been the subject of intense attention since he broke through as Sherlock Holmes — the former chef Jack Bissell was given a three-year restraining order in 2023 after he attacked and vandalised the Cumberbatch home while the family were inside.

Stephen Moffat, the co-creator of Sherlock, says Cumberbatch has always been conflicted about stardom and the attention that comes with it. “Stars need talent, appearance, the right role at the right age but also ambition,” Stephen Moffat, who was a writer on Sherlock, explains over the phone. “Benedict is not ruthless — but he wanted it. He was getting impatient. Everyone was saying he was the coming man in his mid-thirties. At the time we cast him, Martin Freeman was the show’s big name. And [Benedict] became a star in one night. He was on a motorcycle coming over to my house as the first episode went out and by the time he arrived he was a celebrity. Our phones were jumping off the table.”

Cumberbatch’s mid-thirties impatience was understandable. He’s from a family of actors — his father, Timothy Carlton, has a long career on stage and small screen while his mother, Wanda Ventham, converted early roles in Carry On films into regular comedy work in Minder and Only Fools and Horses. They played his parents in the third series of Sherlock.

Since Sherlock, however, his career has outstripped his parents’. He’s played Doctor Strange in six Marvel films, voiced Smaug and the Necromancer in three Hobbit movies, the Grinch in two and Shere Khan in Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle. He was never entirely of that blockbuster world, though, also playing Dominic Cummings in Brexit: The Uncivil War and Henry Sugar in Wes Anderson’s version of Roald Dahl’s story. As the superhero franchise world falters, his Eric performance delivers with the intensity of The Power of the Dog or Patrick Melrose, his 2018 drama about a posh Englishman struggling with addiction after his father abused him.

Eric is an emotional thriller written by the screenwriter and playwright Abi Morgan, whose previous work includes The Split and Suffragette. She was inspired by her time as a teenage nanny in New York and wrote it with just one actor in mind. “I thought [Cumberbatch] has got to be an asshole,” she says. “The surprise for me was that he genuinely wasn’t.” It co-stars Gaby Hoffmann (who played Adam’s sister Caroline in Girls), superb as Vincent’s increasingly estranged wife, and McKinley Belcher III as Detective Ledroit, a gay cop in a homophobic force investigating the boy’s disappearance.

The longer his son is missing, the more Vincent loses his hold on reality. He conjures up an imaginary giant puppet, Eric, to help him to find his son. Cumberbatch provides the voice for the beast and there’s rich, dark comedy in his battles with the plodding fluff monster, who trails him through the city offering dumb plans or mean critiques.

The New York we see is beset by problems, grappling with the Aids epidemic and widespread homelessness, which Cumberbatch got his teeth into.

“Mental health, homelessness, racism, sexism and a host of prejudices.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “We’re always told to arc away from that, or pivot is the term, I think, in PR talk. But drama should always have relevance, however sad.

“It has to speak to the world and have resonance. It doesn’t have to be worthy, but it has to be worthwhile.

“We may not have an Aids pandemic today, but we’ve had Covid, which created fear, it created isolation and created intolerance,” he points out, noting the battles over masks and vaccines. What’s unique to the here and now is the disconnect between us all as people welded to our phones, says Cumberbatch, who has said he subscribes to Buddhist philosophy. He sighs as he speaks about “the electric babysitter we carry around in our hands, which feeds a disconnect through the promise of connection. I mean, that’s a whole other conversation.”

Morgan based the show on her time as a teenage nanny in the city when New York looked just like it did in the movies — and the production captures that era’s look with precision. She wrote her story of “two little boys lost in the city” with just one actor in mind.

“We were pretty far down the line in terms of the scripts, and I knew Benedict had range,” she says. “He can do Doctor Strange, The Imitation Game, The Power of the Dog, Patrick Melrose. But I thought he has got to be an asshole, hasn’t he? The surprise for me is that he genuinely wasn’t. I suddenly understood why those actors get the big bucks they do because they get on stage or camera and there’s an alchemy.”

Cumberbatch has his pick of parts but says, “You gravitate towards things that mean something to you or the zeitgeist. It has to speak to the world and have resonance. It doesn’t have to be worthy, but it has to be worthwhile.”

He adds, “If there is a choice …” but he’s at that rare stage in an actor’s career where he can not only pick the roles he wants, but studios will wait for him. The Doctor Strange director Scott Derrickson recently revealed that Marvel postponed the movie’s release date from the profitable summer to the less bankable autumn to ensure they could cast Cumberbatch as the eponymous lead.

Eric shows Cumberbatch slowly collapsing from arrogant artist to hopeless bum in a grinding, catastrophic arc. He passes through so many states in the six episodes — does Vincent encompass themes from his entire career?

There’s the New York heroin addict of Melrose, homelessness as in Stuart: A Life Backwards (2007), where he plays a writer creating a memoir of a homeless alcoholic, and with the complex and unlikely solving of clues from a map scrawled on a wall, Vincent even resembles Sherlock Holmes.

“I see where you’re going,” he says. “But look, at one point I was the clever outsider scientist with problems communicating. The next, I was the know-it-all arrogant lead. Next, men wrestling with homosexuality, then posh people. Around the Oscar campaign for The Power of the Dog I was giving an interview at a film festival and somebody said, ‘You’ve played over a hundred characters on film alone.’ I was like, ‘Bloody hell!’ So there’s bound to be crossover.”

Many of his roles — including Vincent — are also troubled men with unsupportive parents, but he’s keen to stress his loving upbringing.

He muses for a moment and concludes: “I suppose that’s one of the best things about my career … I love that I make my parents proud.”

Eric is on Netflix from May 30

***********************

The Haters aren't going to like this one little bit. BC as a father and a husband (as well as many more things) is heavily featured in this article. There are DIRECT QUOTES from BC and the director of Eric referencing his sons.

It's a Haters' nightmare!

[wordsandrobots]

I just wanted to say I have so much respect for the incredible essays and fic you write for IBO, and I’m so grateful you’re in this fandom.

I was wondering, have you talked previously about McGillis’ line of “Is there such thing as true happiness and fake happiness?” especially when considered alongside his line of wanting to make Almiria happy? If not, what do you make of that?

It’s been floating around in my head ever since I watched the show, but I haven’t been able to figure out exactly what to make of it and haven’t had the time to rewatch the show yet.

Thank you! My brain has been set to overdrive on the subject of Iron-Blooded Orphans for more than three years now (please send help) so I'm not sure I could have stopped if I tried.

Anyway. Oh boy. That line. No, I haven't written commentary on it previously, at least not directly. But it underpins literally everything I've done in terms of fanfic spiralling out of McGillis' actions, so I have thought about it quite a lot.

For me -- apart from being the moment Gaelio realises precisely how far he's fucked everything up -- that question is the distillation of McGillis as a character. And as much as he says it about his treatment of Almira, it also serves as an excellent vector for examining McGillis and Gaelio's changing relationship throughout the entire show, specifically with regard to why Gaelio is Always Wrong (TM) about his best-friend-turned-mortal-enemy.

The context here is important, since this final scene is the one point in the entire show where we can uncomplicatedly say McGillis is being completely open. He's lost. He's dying. Everything he hoped to achieve has fallen to pieces. Visually, he's been stripped back to his child self, hair fallen wild and expression dulled. This is McGillis undone. It no longer matters what he does or how he presents, so he's finally able to be honest with Gaelio. All the masks are off.

Gaelio, of course, is in full avenger mode, demanding McGillis stay alive long enough to look directly at the consequences of his actions and face his crimes. And McGillis finally admits that all the jumping up and down and masked-ghost shenanigans was unnecessary: he'd *always* seen Gaelio and always held affection for him. He wasn't some cold traitor, saying all the right things to get close enough to stab everyone in the back. Gaelio and Carta were his friends, and though that was anathema to his desire for power, it wasn't a fraud. He even promised to make Gaelio's sister happy for the sake of their friendship.

The English dub script adds the phrase 'no matter the cost' to the end of this statement and I think that's a very acute sentiment, given McGillis nearly dies sooner due to the wound he suffered stopping Almiria from killing herself. His own actions prove he means what he says: even at the cost of harm to himself, he was determined to honour his word on at least this point.

Predictably, Gaelio responds by reiterating the accusation of McGillis spreading delusions. Any happiness McGillis gave to Almiria could only be fake (due to the scheming, backstabbing, brother-murdering and so on). Which leads McGillis to asking, does it matter?

Are there such things as true and fake happiness?

I mentioned masks. For Gaelio, that's a literal object, a disguise to conceal his survival (from anybody who doesn't have the official height chart to hand, at least), that is literally discarded at this point. But for McGillis, the masks always run deeper. Indeed, if there's one thing we can say about his Montag persona and the attendant jester's visage, it's that it allows him to act more like he really wants to, to the point he starts getting a little giddy.

No, for him, masking is performance. Acting. The construction of a surface persona to meet the demands of the situation he's in. Gaelio draws attention to this when describing how McGillis changed as they grew into teenagers, opting to actively fit in with the social scene around them and only seeming to share his 'true' feelings when the two were alone. As the audience, though, we can trace his chameleonic nature back further. In the montage of McGillis' past, we see him adapting to the various situations he is forced into, first by teaching himself to commit violence to establish dominance, then by cultivating studiousness. It seems unlikely McGillis being chosen as Iznario's heir was disconnected from how hard he worked on building himself up in order to survive. Learning how to navigate social and political environments is a natural progression of these efforts.

That this *is* conscious construction is key. Because McGillis also sets out to transform himself into the ideal Agnika Kaieru represents. Ultimately this culminates in physically altering his body so he can use Gundam Bael, but it's far more than that. He trains himself in the two-sword fighting style Agnika used, long before he's anywhere near achieving his goal. He immerses himself in Gjallarhorn's hierarchy and assists skilled, lower-class officers like Isurugi. He dispenses with his childhood sombreness in favour of an authoritative, rigorous, charismatic professional persona. All of this serves his goal of achieving absolute power, yes. It's also about shaping himself into what he thinks he should be -- the embodiment of the characteristics he attributes to Agnika.

There are a few positive aspects to this. Gaelio, operating on the assumption McGillis is a cynical back-stabber, thinks he goes to Mars to survey the mobile armour situation for personal gain. But in truth McGillis goes to ensure Hashmal doesn't awaken. It's the kind of move someone in Gjallarhorn *should* make, so he does. That he is later inspired to go after the Order of the Seven Stars as Gaelio originally imagined he intended is a reaction to things spiralling out of control and exciting him with the world's most ill-advised historical re-enactment; it's not where he comes into the situation. Likewise, he seems to have been a fairly good inspector, exposing corrupt officers like Coral and later doing due diligence on pulling the Outer Earth Orbit Regulatory Joint Fleet (oh cripes I can write than from memory) into proper fighting shape.

At the same time, it means McGillis is always dishonest with other people. He's always got an angle, is always holding something back, always tries to fit everyone into his plans, somehow. Even when he is truthful (such as saying he's admired Carta for treating him as an equal when they were kids or sharing his faith in Agnika's principles with Almiria), there are other factors to consider. His scheme to gain power inside Gjallarhorn, his need to keep things running smoothly, his obsession with being the individual who can transform the world -- these are in play right up until he is bleeding out on the floor.

It's natural, given this, to ask 'who is the true McGillis?' What really exists underneath the layers of performance? However, I think doing so is to repeat a lot of Gaelio's mistakes because, as we eventually find out, McGillis himself fails to draw a meaningful boundary between 'real' and 'fake'.

He promised Gaelio he'd take care of Almiria while in the act of killing him. It was politically prudent to maintain the engagement and he also considered Gaelio a true friend, so there's good reason to honour the promise. On top of that, Almiria is someone he appears to care greatly for, perhaps out of fellow-feeling since she is as much a pawn in others' games as he once was. Thus, her happiness becomes one of his chief goals. To this end, he accommodates her wishes to be seen as a grown-up lady (as imagined by a nine-year-old) and explains how what he is doing will benefit them both. He goes so far as to stop her from harming herself once his deception is exposed, promising that one day, she will be truly happy despite everything.

And the next time he refers to Almiria in any way -- the last time, prior to his final confrontation with Gaelio -- it is to internally chide her for being so troublesome as to leave him with a wound that negatively affects his battlefield performance. Placed alongside his earlier lines to her and the act of putting his hand in the way of the dagger she aimed at her throat, it's an *incredibly* dismissive reaction. It would be easy to read this as him having only pretended to care about Almiria all along, concealing a real disdain. Except, again -- he put his hand in the way of that dagger, without hesitation.

What's going on here?

Well, McGillis presents in whichever way he needs to in order to navigate his circumstances, saying whatever he thinks is most likely to get the outcome he wants. That's his base state for interacting with the world, as a consequence of growing up the way he did. Seeing no distinction in the veracity of happiness speaks to a very outcome-focused view on human interaction. What difference does it make if a positive reaction is prompted by sincerity or by moulding oneself into a form best suiting the other person? They're still happy. Or giving the appearance of it. That's enough, right?

We eventually see this approach fail with Tekkadan, owing to McGillis' misunderstandings about them. Towards the end of the show, stripped of material superiority, his appeals to their fighting spirit fall flat. He tries to sway them on the level he thinks they operate (pride, desire for power, strength of will) rather than the shared loyalty and familial bonds that actually drive them forward. He simply doesn't realise the things they have pursued were always a means to an end -- each other's safety -- rather than the end itself.

That failure highlights both how important it is to engage with the reality of what you're trying to manipulate (the critical distinction separating him from Rustal) and how genuine McGillis is about his stated goals. He really does want to become the all-powerful leader of Gjallarhorn and believes that will allow him to make the world better. He'd do anything to achieve it. Just like he really means to ensure Almiria's happiness, however much he needs to cover up and present differently -- or even suffer physical harm -- to do so.

That right there is the fundamental problem with how Gaelio sees him throughout Season 2. He doesn't get that McGillis' performances are not strictly falsehoods but tools used to obtain the outcome he's proclaiming to anyone who'll listen. The act may be pieced together from truth or lies or force of strength; what matters is that it *works*.

I spent my essay about Agnika focusing on McGillis' ideology. What the true/false happiness line exemplifies is his methodology or, more strictly, the survival strategy he adapted into a generalised approach. It's the Tekkadan strategy error -- applying the same methods over and over in situations where they are increasingly counter-productive -- writ on a subtler scale. A compulsive need to treat every interpersonal encounter as having a specific outcome, where the actual content, the human connection, and the emotional impact lose any significance beyond 'if X then Y'.

The kicker being that, when McGillis does have to deal with genuine emotions on their own terms, he shoves them as far away from himself as he can. Carta and Gaelio should have been his closest allies and loyalist supporters, not to mention a positive impact on his wellbeing due to, you know, actually caring about him as a person. Instead, he kills/tries to kill them, not just because their deaths serve his ambitions but because they gave him something other than his ambitions -- full stop. Something else. And he couldn't have both.

McGillis could not build himself into the perfect embodiment of individualism while keeping his friends close. He couldn't continue to persist on an outcome-focused approach with unprompted, un-targeted happiness just happening to him. From everything else about his character, I'm not sure he could ever have trusted the feelings Carta and Gaelio induced in him. Far better to construct the happiness he thought he wanted. Far safer. Far more natural, for someone under no illusions about the world's hypocrisies, or what people do in order to survive.

The tragedy is that this is an inescapable problem. McGillis was always going to chose the constructed ideal future over the reality that lay within touching distance. The damage, for that's what this is, was done long before anyone who cared was in a position to intervene. This is somebody who'd execute the people he cares for and who cannot understand his best friend crying over his dying admission of affection, any more than he can grasp why being willing to do anything to ensure a little girl's happiness isn't necessarily laudable. Where would you even begin trying to unpick that?

Which of course is exactly what makes him so effective within this story. There's a paradox at the heart of McGillis, which is part of why I've never tried to write his perspective in my fic, where he manages to be profoundly honest and chronically self-deluding, the signifiers of a manipulative bastard twisted around into . . . I don't really want to call it pathology because I think that undersells the active choice to be who he is. But we see how he got there, the trauma that went into making him, how different aspects of it meshed together, shaping him one after the other. It's not just the homelessness, or the sexual assault, or being trafficked, or being made a pawn in a political game, or fixating on a historical figure. It's all of them put together, and I think it's a fantastic bit of character work.

There simply isn't a solution. Just an inescapable arc towards disaster, and the devastation of a pair of siblings who each loved him more dearly than he could possibly conceptualise.

-----

That's more or less where I land on things, anyway. Hopefully this was mostly coherent, as rambles go? Like with everything to do with McGillis, I can never just pull one thread. The man's a living rats-nest, which I love about him but does make it difficult to be succinct!

Thank you very much for the ask, and for your kind words. I will admit to feeling a degree of 'if there's no active fandom for this show, I'll damn well do it myself' when I started writing the fic and the essays, so it delights me no end to know there are people getting a kick out of them. :)

[mariacallous]

Presidential debates have impact when they address questions and concerns about the candidates that are top of mind for voters. As the crucial presidential debate began, in a race that was statistically dead even, both candidates had work to do.

Kamala Harris faced three key challenges. First, 37% to 42% of voters in some swing states knew virtually nothing about her except that she serves as Joe Biden’s vice president. Filling in this gap, or at least beginning to, was job one. From the very first minutes of the debate, it was clear that she knew she had to define herself and that she did—as a child of the middle class who, in contrast to Trump, was not given $400 million to start a business. In addition, she repeatedly came back to her experience as a prosecutor.

Second, Harris has shifted her position on many important issues—health care (Medicare for All), climate change (fracking), and immigration (decriminalizing border crossings), among others—since she ran for the nomination in 2020. This left people wondering, what kind of Democrat is she—a classic California progressive or the next generation of the Clinton, Obama, and Biden-style center-left? She had to persuade voters that the new version of Kamala Harris is the one they will get if she is elected.

Here her performance was more mixed. She explained her shift on fracking but didn’t give as clean and crisp an answer as she could have on other issues where Trump has accused her of flip-flopping. However, she defended the Biden administration and her participation in the bipartisan immigration legislation that Trump killed, she let the audience know that both she and Tim Walz are gun owners who have no intention of taking away people’s guns, and she pushed back against the charge that she was weak on crime by emphasizing her experience and record as a prosecutor who put criminals behind bars.    

Third, as is the case with every candidate who hasn’t previously occupied the presidency, Harris had to convince swing voters that she has what it takes to serve effectively as the nation’s chief executive and commander-in-chief. Simply put, they needed to be able to see her as big enough to be president, a barrier that some previous candidates, such as Michael Dukakis in 1988, failed to cross.

Harris passed this test easily. She never got flustered, she made her points concisely and quickly, and she spoke with confidence about traditionally “male” issues like war, defense, crime, and foreign policy.

What did Trump have to do in this debate? Two things.

First of all, he had to come across as someone who is not mean and angry, obsessed with the past and prone to conspiracy theorizing. His campaign aides have urged him to fight Kamala on the issues. Yet, on the stump, Trump can’t seem to stick to the script. He reads the policy portions of his speeches with an obvious lack of enthusiasm and returns often to complaining about alleged ballot fraud in 2020, insulting Harris, and unearthing conspiracy theories that make little sense.

Trump began the debate with the advice from his advisors ringing in his head. His first answer on the economy took aim at the Biden record, one of the issues on which he has held a consistent lead throughout the campaign. But as time went on, his debate performance took the same course as the Trump rallies. He turned nearly every question into an answer about the threats from illegal immigration. Like the economy, this has been a good issue for him, but he did begin to sound like a Johnny One Note on the topic, and it is not clear that this issue is as powerful in swing states like Pennsylvania as it is in border or more Republican states.

Also, as the debate wore on, Trump simply could not stay away from weird stuff. He insisted that Democrats favored killing babies after they were born and allowing abortion in the ninth month. And he repeated a story about immigrants in Springfield, Ohio killing and eating people’s cats and dogs. One of the moderators, David Muir, had to step in to point out that reporters had called Springfield city officials who had investigated the story and found it simply wasn’t true.

The second thing Trump needed to do was differentiate himself from the most extreme stances of his party—many of which are described by his former aides in Project 2025. As he has done in the past, he distanced himself from this document during the debate, claiming “I have nothing to do with Project 2025. I haven’t even read it.” 

Although there are many questionable policies being considered by Trump and the right wing of the Republican Party, such as slapping huge tariffs on U.S. imports and deporting millions of immigrants—by far the most dangerous one for him politically is abortion. On that issue, his answer was, as it has always been, that everything is okay because now the states are deciding it. Not surprisingly, Harris’ attack on abortion was exceptionally strong. She pointed out the many states that have passed highly restrictive abortion policies and, in some cases, have criminalized the behavior of doctors who are providing reproductive services. Abortion rights is the single most helpful issue for the Democrats in 2024.

Republican strategists keep hoping the abortion issue can be buried, but recent steps by Trump allies in Florida and Texas have kept it alive. In the debate, Trump tried to distance himself from the extremes, arguing that he would approve of abortions for rape and incest and even going so far as to say the Florida six-week ban is too short. Nonetheless, the coalition he leads isn’t happy with his nods to moderation, and it is likely many Americans will continue to believe that he would sign a national abortion ban if a Republican Congress sent it to his desk.

In conclusion, there are three kinds of presidential debates. The first is when one candidate lands a knockout blow against the other, as Ronald Reagan did with Jimmy Carter in 1980. The second is when the debate does little if anything to change the flow of the race; the Clinton/Dole debates in 1996 are a good example. The third, intermediate outcome occurs when a debate yields an advantage to one candidate without ending the other’s chance to win, as happened when Mitt Romney bested President Obama in their first debate in 2012.

The first (and perhaps only) debate between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris falls into this last category. After a month-long Harris surge that erased the advantage Trump had developed over President Biden, the race had stabilized during the past two weeks. This debate seems likely to put new wind in Harris’ sails. Whether it will be enough to propel her to victory in the Electoral College remains to be seen. But her campaign and supporters leave the debate with renewed energy and hope. By contrast, the Trump campaign must reckon with the likelihood that their candidate’s performance pleased his base without rallying many new supporters to his side.

Throughout the race, Trump has enjoyed a solid lead on the question of strong leadership. While he may still hold an advantage, most Americans who watched the debate probably saw in Kamala Harris an adversary who held her ground, went on the attack whenever possible, and refused to be intimidated. This matters.

On the face of it, the Trump campaign has an incentive to seek a rematch. If it does, the Harris campaign will probably insist on rules more to its liking. If not, this debate will stand as the last high-profile event before the November 5 election and as the race devolves into trench warfare—a battle of communications and organization in the states that will decide the outcome.

Finally—in the minutes after the debate closed—the galactically famous singer Taylor Swift announced she would be voting for Kamala Harris. In today’s world, this may be worth as much or even more than Harris’ solid debate performance.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 14: DREAM CATCHER - Episode 13: Because We're With Our Friends

Ibuki: << The hamburg steak, pancakes and fries are for over here. Thank youuu. >>

Ibuki: Woah~ I’m seriously grateful you’re getting me dinner just ‘cause I fought off that pickpocket.

Izumi: (They’re wolfing the food down at an amazingly fast pace…)

Ibuki: << Oh, I’d like another 5 servings of fries. >>

Ibuki: You guys want any?

Kumon: Oh, sure~

Misumi: I’ll eat the triangle fries~!

Ibuki: << Make that 7. >>

Izumi: 5 of those are for themself…

Yuki:  They ordered the same amount a while ago and ate it all.

Kazunari: You really do eat well, Ibukichi~

Muku: “Really”?

Kumon: Ibukichi’s known for their big appetite. They also upload food challenge videos, and they all blow up.

Ibuki: Potatoes are seriously so good! Potatoes FTW!

Tenma: So, what are you doing in the US?

Ibuki: I came to see my Nee-chan who’s studying here. I learned English while at it, too.

Muku: So that’s why you can speak English so well.

Ibuki: If you wanna be world-famous, you gotta have a global reach, and knowing English is a must!

Yuki: Heeh… You thought this through.

Ibuki: Duh! Can’t go around wasting even a second of my life.

Ibuki: You only live once, and you’re the protag of your own life. That’s why I focus on making myself shine most.

Ibuki: I gotta go all out if I wanna make my dreams come true.

Kumon: How nice~ I’d be able to enjoy musicals even more if I knew English.

Kazunari: Have you seen any musicals or plays while staying here, Ibukichi?

Ibuki: Liike I saaiid, I’ve got no interest in acting.

Ibuki: Time is money nowadays, and you want me to pay real money just to sit there? No thanks.

Ibuki: You can 2x a movie or a drama, but you can’t do that with live theater~

Izumi: (I see, so that’s how the youth nowadays thinks.)

Tenma: Then how come you know MANKAI Company?

Ibuki: I know someone who’s obsessed with you.

Ibuki: I watched a performance that was being streamed for free a while back cause he rec'd it like crazy, but all the actors were unknown hags.

Ibuki: And I’m not really into historical stuff. 

Yuki: Could’ve been the performance with first gen.

Izumi: I guess those performances were a bit more adult oriented.

Muku: But there are all sorts of plays, so you might eventually find something to your liking.

Kumon:  You might also change your mind completely if you watch it in the theater instead of streaming it!

Ibuki: Hm~ Then, let’s turn the question around, what’s so good about theater?

Muku: Eh?

Kumon: When you ask it like that, it’s hard to sum it up in a few words…

Ibuki: When you work independently, you get to decide what to do and when you want to do it, and you can change your mind on the fly.

Ibuki: But you’ve got a script when acting, so you can’t change anything up, right? Ain’t that boring?

Ibuki: And having to get along with the others in the company sounds like a real hassle.

Tenma: It’s exactly because you’re not alone that you can create things you wouldn’t be able to create by yourself.

Kumon: Right, right! It’s like it takes you to places you’d never imagine!

Kazunari: It's super hype when you get into it~! I think that's a feeling you can't experience when you're by yourself.

Yuki: When I look back to when I was the only one who wore my self-designed outfits, I think my world was much smaller than it is now.

Misumi: Acting with everyone is the most fun!

Muku: Anything we can’t overcome by ourselves, we can overcome together, and then we can move on to the next challenges.

Tenma: Most importantly, I love the plays I put on together with these guys.

Kazunari: TenTen…!

Misumi: Me too~!

Kumon: I feel that way too!

Ibuki: Huuuh…?

Tenma: You’ll probably get what I mean when you make friends like this, too.

Ibuki: …

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

[wereoz]

@cnka i wanted to reply to ur question abt my thoughts on the tsn doc on my actual post but the tags were so insanely long i was like. i need to make an actual post

SO IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

first off, wow im just so astounded by the fervent love that went into making tsn. it was a risk and so unlike other projects fincher and anyone else there had done but w/ their commitment to it it turned out SO amazingly. the fact they sat around a table and argued for hours abt how the lines fit and everyone could make their case is just. WOW!!!! they really made sure everyone understood and loved playing their characters.

erica's and christies actresses werent very common appearances like mark but they really went all in too im in AWE!! NOT TO MENTION MARYLINS WOW!! rooney mara really just. god she went so hard into making sure all of ericas kindness and leniency and frustration were so clear, she was so focused in the behind the scenes footage and obviously having so much fun <33 i love that brenda song was able to relate to christie's jealousy and fear eduardo was cheating. the fact all the actors ARE the characters ages and are as chaotic and fierce and dedicated and ambitious makes it soooo<3333 rashida jones describing marilyn as a greek chorus just watching hit SO hard. the second hand experience of this young man going through this epic tale by just hearing it thru testimony is a crazy thing. the act of listening is so simple but becomes so emotional even as everyone wants to keep it professional

on the twins: i find it so wonderful that the actors armie and josh played both twins. it just WORKS bc twins take the 'know u better than u do' that siblings have and take it to absolutely insane levels. the fact these actors have literally got access to both the twins minds takes the performance to a whole new level like those twins know each other inside and out!!!! its a meta thing that goes truly crazy.

you have already seen me say the bts of the erica and mark breakup truly kills me bc. he is being an asshole and not listening and the fact he doesn’t mean to doesn’t change that he is. she has to leave, but it’s so sad that she does bc… fincher calling him 'damaged goods' implies a universe where whatever makes him like this isnt present. where maybe he’s fine. so. GOD :’(( (i think it’s autism + the bad life experiences that come from that & being queer + the bad life experiences that come from that, heightened by the era)

on a more positive note i love that on set picking out the accessories andrew says ‘i’ when hes speaking as eduardo. he’s really dedicated to the role its great. also that he and jesse had conversations in character like these 20 year olds r crazy truly. love them for that !!

during the whole thing, everyone is so suspicious, and condemning to mark: like, noting that he is driven by ego, jesse jokes mark is okay with the cold because he doesn’t feel anything, and also, there’s a part when sorkin, fincher, andrew, and jesse are sitting around and talking about the scene where mark & eduardo argue abt ads. essentially, they make the argument that mark always says ‘i’ when eduardo says ‘we’ because in his mind, eduardo hasn’t contributed much at all. while mark is up coding for hours straight, eduardo is at some phoenix thing so? what gives?

so i was reframing my understanding of mark (which. is very indulgent cus i love him), and trying to get as close to his brain as i could and i was coming up with him generally being pretty… hard on the outside for lack of a better word. he’s not traditionally intimidating (like the script states) but its hard to crack him and you can really see this with jesse’s physicality like he’s so stiff. that’s pretty innocuous but i think this is something he uses to put distance between him and his loved ones- very frustrating. and i think every time i realise how much mark is an asshole i remember so many reasons why they added *trying to be.

when fincher called him damaged goods it’s like. the most in the doc people give him the benefit of the doubt (also sorkin saying he wanted to balance out all of mark’s character). which is pretty good because marks good traits are supposed to be very subtle and hit you when you don’t expect it. that’s very much how i felt when i suddenly remembered ‘sorry. that was mean.’ he truly is just trying to be an asshole. he wants to be nicer than he is but he also wants more power than he does and as someone who felt pretty powerless the rest of his life, that trumps the rest. he really thinks he can have both experiences, power and love, and he just hates that every time he takes a step in one direction it cancels out the other. this actually really fits in well w/ my next point

i also want to say that the fact mark videoing everyone was explained as him wanting to force proof that everything is fine, and they’re happy is making me so :(( MARK!!!! :(( he is so. i mean its two things: its the ‘i won, but did i?’ of it all. mark won the argument but its a hollow victory, being some sillicon valley titan isn’t emotionally fulfilling, it will never be enough. especially not when its costing him a good friend. the way the end is laced throughout the entire movie is so sick to me

re marks bullshit i also love how they mentioned that marks jealousy about the final clubs is more than just wanting to be in eduardo’s position its like - i thought we had some loser solidarity and now its like you’re a whole different person. its less of a horrible feeling when ur at the bottom with someone and mark feels betrayed. ofc mark doesn’t feel safe to express this emotion (bc bullied nerd boy whos probs bi in the 2000s), or doesn’t know that’s what he’s feeling, and decides it’s eduardo’s fault and freezes him out for it.

this is just off the top of my head i certainly have more and will probably talk more abt this lovely doc again :^))

[misscammiedawn]

Don't you think it's a tiny bit silly that Tumblr invents games to get people to ask other people questions? Anyway, Sage and Jasmine

I think it is a little silly, but Tumblr ask culture was bred from the "memes" of Livejournal. Back in those days there wasn't really a DM system so memes like that would be shared and people would just fill out the full thing and post them to their blogs.

Sometimes I just fill them out like I used to in the old days. Sometimes I put them in Asks because I like pouring some love to the dying ecosystem of Tumblr asks.

Anyway. I lived through Livejournal era and Tumblr is the inheritor of that culture, so I hope that helps explain a thing.

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

I am all about the communication of experience. Humans are damned to never be able to fully understand ourselves or one another. Even the people who know you better than anyone else on the planet can only see reflections and interpretations of you.

Art is very much the same and it helps bridge gaps of experience. I can't understand what it is like to grow up in the Rwandan Civil War and be displaced to a foreign country and only know your home through stories and photographs. I will never have the generational trauma of holocaust survivors experiencing decades of behaviors and prejudice spread over 3 generations and have to work through the context of all those moving parts...

But I can try. Heaven help me, I can try.

Likewise, it can help me make context of the things I do know about. I may not know the horror of an entire generation of people surviving a willing genocide of indifference and watching everyone in their community perish slowly, but I sure know how it impacted my mother and in turn how she treated her biological children. I have such a profound emotional attachment to the art from the genocide that took place during the AIDS crisis and not just because I am a queer woman who needs to know her history, but I'm indirectly a victim of it and knowing it helps in some tiny way contextualize that.

Because if you move the lens back far enough, we are all part of this intricate machine of reality and every moving part impacts us via a butterfly effect and art is the only way I know to be in touch with that. Educating myself is all well and good, but feeling my fellow human? That is what I desire. More than anything. I want to feel.

Movies, music, installations, books, comics, performance. However you are able to package all of that unknowable Truth and condense it into a language that is hidden behind words and brush strokes and pieces of candy in the corner of an art exhibit.

How can I pick one?

I can't. I won't. I refuse.

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

Synecdoche, New York is the first one that comes to mind. I watched it during my social transition in 2019 when I wasn't on HRT, only certain people knew my name and even then only a small number of those people were calling me by it.

I knew of the movie through YMS and no one had prepared me for the trans read of the movie... so I went in blind and got demolished.

Look... Synecdoche is a crushingly beautiful film from an artist who has put his whole heart on the page with so much gusto that he famously derailed an adaptation of a non-fiction novel to tell a story about his mental breakdown while working on the screenplay.

I have so much to say about it and the poignancy of the script has only increased since Seymour Hoffman's death. But that film broke me when I watched it.

The sequence where the main character, Caden, has switched roles to become a maid. A partner clocks them on their repressed gender expression and Hoffman confesses he wishes he had been born a woman and his partner consoles him and engages erotic intimacy while repeating "pretty Caden" over and over again. It is probably the most pain I have ever experienced in my life through watching a piece of media.

I spoke to a friend about the experience and I won't copy the text of that conversation here, but I had a complete dissociative experience from it, I was really messed up. Particularly as my own baggage was weighing heavily into the moment and I had no way near close to have resolved my terror of erotic intimacy at the time (tbf it's still unresolved, but I am no longer playing the role of an allosexual husband so it is no longer an issue)--

Not the fault of the film, but it was the wrong time to watch that movie.

I just... I know if I watch that film again I'll return to 2019. The worst year of my life. The end of my entire life as I knew it. All of the pain of transition and none of the euphoria.

I can't do that to myself. I just can't.

Also... has anyone else noticed how much Charlie Kaufman's scripts have trans themes in them? Like I am still upset about "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" not being an overt transgender narrative because I was so certain by the ice cream scene that the real ending just kind of disappointed me in how... unambitious it was.

[orlafilmblog]

Creating Connection - Saint Catherines Rehearsals

As is the way of life, I did not end up having as much rehearsal time with the actors as I would have liked to have prior to the shoot. I managed an individual rehearsal with each actor, a group rehearsal with Claire, Millie, and Fraser, and a second group rehearsal with Claire and Amy. In an ideal world, the actors would have all met as a group beforehand, however we managed as best we could!

In the individual rehearsals, we focused on discussing the character and their relation to the story. I was aware that in my previous directing, I had done a lot of talking, laying things out precisely for actors. This I feel minimises the potential of an actors performance and individual contribution to the characters, so I tried to really make my directing in rehearsals more discussion based.

My rehearsal with Claire was relaxed and we had some great conversations about the changes made to the story and character from the test shoot to the final script. She really liked that Phoebe was more driven and purposeful in the final script, which was great to hear. We talked about Phoebe’s relationships with the other characters as well as the motivation and thought processes of her character. I specifically mentioned what I have labelled a “The Three Phoebes”: enthusiastic Phoebe, watchful Phoebe, and driven Phoebe. These loosely describe the overall arc she goes through and gave a base for us to work from.

My rehearsal with Millie was also quite relaxed, as she is an old friend of mine and we spent a lot of time just catching up in between discussing the character and the story. I needed to work more with Millie in regard to story and character background as she had no previous knowledge of the project like Claire did. In the photos attached you can see some of the points we discussed! I think one of the most interesting things we developed was part of Sara’s background. We agreed that when she was younger, she had gone through a similar sexual assault at a party, and had been brushing off what had happened as just a silly situation. This is part of the motivation as to why she struggles to support Phoebe in Saint Catherines, as she refuses to face what happened to her. It is important to me that I understand all the characters, even if I disagree with their actions. I still need to be able to try and enter their head space and to like them as people.

This was especially important when working with Fraser in our development of Harry. I have spent months joking about what an arsehole he is, but I had to put this to the side and really begin to like and understand him. There was a huge risk of him coming off as a caricature of a shitty man, and this was something Fraser and I discussed in depth to ensure he was well-rounded. The rehearsal with Fraser went really well, however was slightly more formal than the previous two as this was my first time meeting him. Thankfully he turned out to be lovely, and we had some great conversations about the story and what he can bring to it (notes from rehearsal below).

Last but not least, Amy. This was also my first time meeting her, and I was over the moon when I realised she is so similar to the character of Jo! They have basically the same wardrobe. This rehearsal followed a similar structure to the others, focusing a lot on Jo’s emotional maturity and how that impacts her relationship with the others.

The structure for the group rehearsal was also very discussion based, and we barely touched on the project at all. My aim for this was to allow the actors to get to know each other as people first, and to build up a genuine connection. To do this, we started with some basic introductions, before moving onto some more specific questions. The questions started off simple, asking about favourite films etc, and became more intense as we went on, asking about regrets, crying, being let down etc. The full list is also pictured below. Each question does relate to the story in some way, so that the emotions brought up in our discussion could be used in the scenes. I found this to be an extremely successful rehearsal, running an hour over schedule as the conversation kept going and going. By creating such an open and comfortable space, the actors were able to share and therefore connect over their experiences. I also answered each of the questions to ensure that there was no weird power dynamic in the room, and to put myself in the same vulnerable positions. At the end of the rehearsal I asked the actors to think about the questions in character, and to work on some answers to keep to themselves.

The second group rehearsal was just Claire and Amy, and I went down a bit of a different route here. I still asked Amy to think about the list of questions for herself and for Jo, but I took both of them out into Morningside and we went round some of the charity shops. I told them to each pick a few things they thought that their characters would wear. This created a relaxed environment for Claire and Amy to get to know each other as friends, whilst also exploring and discussing their characters.

Overall, although I did not get as much rehearsal time as I would have liked, I a really happy with how the rehearsals went and think they yielded great results in the final film.

Phoebe Rehearsal

Sara Rehearsal

Jo Rehearsal (unfinished notes)

Harry Rehearsal

Group Rehearsal

[professionalvalkyrietrainer]

Asteroids Postmortem

In between this post and my previous post, I read up on chapter 9 of Tracey Fullerton's Game Design Workshop, which talks about how to perform a proper play testing. One very intriguing point I come to conclude when reading through the chapter would be the fact that the designers of a game is always the worse person to play test the game they are designing. Other than that, I also realized that play testing is not a one and done process as multiple play testing should be conducted in different stages of development to make sure that users are able to understand the game without much outside guidance.

I also concluded that for my future playtesting sessions, I should try to include the following to make sure that I can get effective feedback from play testers:

A playtest script

2. Try different play testing method instead of 1-on-1 play testing

3. Let play tester plot my game on a Play Matrix

4. Write down questions for play testers to answer in my play test notes

A Quick Recap From Last Week

Now that's out of the way, lets begin the post mortem for my asteroid game called Astro-stuck. To recap from last week, I added an asteroid splitting feature, power-up, dashing and also change up the texture of my game. This is what it looks like now:

Play Tester Feedback

Unfortunately, I was unable to get a lot of feedback from my fellow classmates for my asteroid game this week, I still managed to get some feedback from one of my classmate. Although the feedback I gotten is lesser than I anticipated, the feedback given is still very insightful and should be talk about extensively.

Increase Difficulty

I believe this feedback to be the most crucial one out of all of them as there are many ways to look at this. On one hand, it might mean that my game is unbalanced and is too easy for my game's audience. On the other hand, we have to account for the fact that this is only feedback from one person who probably has a better gaming expertise than the average gamer, which means that the feedback might not represent the entirety of the gamer population. I believe if the play testing is performed with more people with different gaming expertise, I will be able to get a more accurate response regarding the difficulty of my game.

Nevertheless, if I were to increase the difficulty of Astro-stuck, I believe it can be done by increasing the spawn rate of asteroids, reduce player health or by adding additional threats like hostile spacecraft that will attack the player.

Alter the Speed of Spaceship and Asteroid

The play tester actually suggested me to increase the moving speed of both the spaceship and the asteroids as correlating to the previous feedback, he thinks this can make the game more challenging. In which I somewhat agree with him as its a way to create a more fast-paced game which in turn more difficult. However, similar to the last feedback, I am uncertain whether this is an opinion that applies to the majority of gamers as both of us are definitely better in games when compared to the average gamer. Hence, I would keep this feedback in mind however I will only implement it if most people still have this opinion after I have performed more playtesting with a more varied group of play testers.

Fix Ship Positioning/ Tracking

This feedback actually is referring to fix a glitch/bug that might happen to the spaceship when it reaches where the cursor is currently located. When the spaceship reaches wherever the cursor is, the ship will begun to flicker between facing left and right, I believe this occurred as the ship is controlled by heading towards where the cursor is pointed, however when it catches up with the cursor, instead of stopping, it still constantly heads towards the cursor which is unreachable as the point is inside the spaceship itself, so it basically became a dog chasing its own tail.

More Power-Ups

The play tester also given me the idea to add different variety of power-ups into the game. He suggested that a scattershot power-up can be added which causes the spaceship to fire a cone of bullets from where the spaceship is facing rapidly. Other than what the play tester suggested, I also came up with a couple ideas that could be potential power-ups that can be added into the game. One of them being a nuke power-up that wipes out all the asteroids on the field and the other being full repair power-up which will restore a set amount of health points to the player.

Override Collision When Dashing

This particular feedback was added after I explained to the play tester that there's a dashing feature within my game. In which he then tried to dash through asteroids thinking that he can phase through it. However, he was unable to perform that as it was not coded in, so he proposed that I can add a damage mitigation mechanic into my dashing mechanic, which I agree is a great idea as it can make the system more dynamic as highly skilled players can use this feature to survive longer on the asteroid field.

Personal Notes

After going back to play test my game, I also found a couple of major flaws that I believe need to be fixed if I am going to use this as the base for my upcoming assignment. Here is the list of things that I would add/fix in my game:

Tweak the fire rate of bullets as I think they are shooting too fast

2. Add more power-ups

3. Balance the game by tweaking asteroid spawn rate, asteroid speed, space ship speed and many more.

4. Add music and sound effects

5. Add a start menu for my game

With that, I have officially completed all three blogs for my asteroid game as starting from next week I will begin my work on creating a racing game in GDevelop so stay tuned!

References

Fullerton, T. (2018). Game Design Workshop: A Playcentric Approach to Creating Innovative Games. ProQuest Ebook. Retrieved from: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/qut/reader.action?docID=5477698

[brighteststar707]

Faye!! Congrats on the milestone my sweet 🎂 your event is so precious and thoughtful and I just love it as much as I love you!!! 🩷🌸

Pretty please could I pick a toy for our lovely Zen? I was so tempted to go for dark chocolate you don't even know like I'm just thirsty all the damn time tbh

Lola! I was so excited to do this request, I love any chance i get to unpack some of Zen's backstory (though I must say, it was quite fun to imagine Zen's fantasies for a minute)

I'm so happy you like the event theme! I wanted it to be something special for such a milestone, and I'm really fond of how it turned out.

I'm also really fond of this fic, I love some Zen lore. I hope you enjoy <3

✧ Toy ~ Memories from their past

Hyun at age six is quiet. His mother once told him that good boys don't call attention to themselves, so he tries his best to blend in.

Secretly, he wishes he didn't have to be a good boy. He likes singing (especially where others can hear him), he likes playing like the other kids do. He doesn't like pretending to be invisible. He tries so hard, and it so rarely works. He can duck his head and hold his tongue all he wants, but there is always someone who wants to talk to him or touch him.

The other day, a lady in the supermarket tried to hold his hand and pat his hair. His mother was very upset (with her or him, he's still not sure).

He doesn't like going outside very much anymore. The only place he really likes going is school. Not because of the classes. They're difficult and boring. But his classmates are usually nice. They choose him first when making teams for games - sports is easier than anything they learn at school. He likes how it feels when they all cheer him on. He definitely isn't invisible then.

It's less fun when his classmates make him ask the teachers for things they want (recently it was for a longer breaktime which the teacher did not want to give). They don't care that it gets him into trouble. They believe the teachers like him more than the others. He doesn't think that's true.

Sure, some teachers are nice to him, but most of them are so strict. They get upset with him when he makes mistakes (Hyun does not like maths) and give him harder exercises. A lot of them tell him the same thing:

"Don't expect life to be easy just because of your looks."

He isn't sure what that means. He doesn't think his life is easy.

He likes his brother. He's the smartest person Hyun knows. He has answers to all the questions he asks (even the ones about maths). Even more than that, his brother is kind. He doesn't laugh at Hyun or tell him that he's being bad, even when he draws attention to himself.

He didn't even laugh after their mother gave Hyun a terrible haircut recently, even though all the kids at school did. She had been telling him that he was ugly, that his hair was too long, that it was distracting. Despite how much Hyun had begged her not to cut it too short, she ended up chopping most of it.

He liked his hair. He misses it now that it's all gone.

His brother did not laugh. Instead he ruffled his hair and told him that he looked older. He promised him that he would help Hyun style it as it grew out and maybe even comb it the way he does. They have never looked alike, but perhaps that way there would finally be a similarity.

Maybe Hyun would be able to be a good boy if he was more like his brother.

Hyun at age fifteen is angry. He left home a few months ago, after a particularly nasty fight with his mother. She had found the scripts he had hidden even after she had made him promise to drop performing and work harder at school. It had resulted in a screaming match (another one, they were becoming increasingly common recently). That wasn't the reason he left, though.

He had gotten used to tuning out the yelling. The final straw came a few hours later when his brother came to talk to him. For just a few seconds, Hyun had felt the sense of comfort that he had only ever felt with his brother. He was good at reminding him that her words were just a result of her frustration, that he wasn’t ugly or useless or one of the other things she liked to call him.  

But that feeling didn’t last long. His brother's eyebrows were furrowed, a look that did not suit his face, and Hyun knew something was different. Instead of comforting him, his brother had said something along the lines of why haven’t you given up this hobby yet, you know this isn’t going to get you anywhere. You can’t do this forever.

Something like that. Hyun’s ears were ringing too loudly for him to properly hear everything. To have to hear these things from his brother was a betrayal bigger than he had ever felt.

That night, he packed up his most important belongings and slipped out of the house. He hasn’t looked back since. That doesn’t mean he isn’t still angry, though. In fact, the longer he has been away, the angrier he gets.

He has started to see things more clearly. The way he was treated as a small child, like a nuisance who could only do wrong, whose hobbies were annoying and looks were burdensome. The way he has only ever been discouraged, the way he has always been wrong wrong wrong. All while his brother was praised as the perfect child.

The injustice of it makes him seethe with rage. He doesn’t recognize this version of himself, the one who is always a step away from exploding.

It has helped him survive out on the streets, though. His new friends use his anger to help them pull off robberies. He is taller than most kids his age, and when he squares off his shoulders and clenches his jaw, he can look very intimidating. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel afterwards, but he needs the money. Even when he isn’t trying to be intimidating, store owners are usually to busy admiring his face for them to notice the things he’s stealing.

His hair is growing past his ears. He’s not going to cut it again if he can help it. He pins it back and makes tiny little ponytails to keep it out of the way when he’s training.

And oh, he trains. He’s attending auditions like crazy, whenever he can fit them between the short work gigs he lands. He keeps reminding himself that he’s waiting for just one break, that one good show will kick start his career, and he won’t have to live like this anymore.

If only someone would cast him. Every director he has met so far has complimented his skills (which feels good) and his looks (which feels less good) but tells him that he still needs time, and to come back in a few years.

Hyun doesn’t have a few years, he wants to tell them. He wants to scream it, after a while, in each of these director’s faces. He is crashing at a different house every night, on blow-up mattresses and lumpy sofas. He eats only what he can scrounge up in a day, be it from the little money he earns or whatever he can steal. He has his eye on a cheap apartment listing, but it will be a while before he can afford even one month’s rent.

It's the idea of this mythical home (one with no rules, no arguments, no forced haircuts) that keeps him going when his doubts start to creep up on him. He has to believe that he hasn’t made a big mistake, because he’s in too deep now.   

Little does he know that he's a week away from landing his first role.

Zen at age twenty is unsatisfied. He keeps getting cast in the same archetype over and over again. His lines feel repetitive, his monologues uninspiring. He wants more for his characters, more for himself. At the same time, he cannot afford to branch out and take risks because he needs the money. On top of that, modelling gigs pay more than acting, so he’s spending more time in front of a camera than he’d like.

With a lot of his jobs centring around his appearance, he has been learning how to care for himself in a way he has never done before. He has treated himself to a few hair care products, and enjoys brushing out his hair every night after stressful days. Investing time in himself feels like an escape from everything else in life. He can be playing the fifth romantic interest character in a row, but at least he will be beautiful doing it.

It’s a phrase he has slowly been learning to get used to. He is beautiful. He is handsome. It’s funny, he has heard it countless times throughout his life, but only recently has it stopped feeling wrong.

He feels like he has hit a wall in his career, and his personal life is not looking any better. His girlfriend broke up with him a week ago and it still doesn’t feel real. He should probably be sadder about it than he is. All he feels is lonely.

She was great, really. They had met after a show and hit it off quickly. At first it was nice. He liked the company, craved the affection she gave him. But with his workload as it is, it was impossible to manage a relationship at the same time. He never got more than a few hours off of work (most of which he spent resting), which cut down on the time they could spend together significantly.

They drifted apart; it was inevitable. And despite him knowing this deep down, he didn’t expect her to leave him like that.

Now he’s lonely and anxious. Not a good combination. For all his regrets about his time spent with the gang, at least he was never lonely.

Some of that anger he carried with him as a teenager can sometimes still flare up in him. He sees people his age who have the support and care of their loved ones, when he ends every night by himself in his crappy apartment on the sofa with a beer and a script. He remembers how unfair things are, how he wishes things could have been different.

Oh well, it's no use dwelling on what could have been. He can only face the future head on and keep pushing. He will try his best to remind himself why he chose this path, despite all the difficulties he is facing.

Zen at age twenty-four has butterflies. He’s on the phone talking to a bubbly stranger and something feels different. They call him often (he’d like to think more often than they call any of the others) and ask him about his day in detail. Despite having received so many compliments throughout his life, when they compliment him, it makes him blush. He feels comfortable, more so than he has in a long time.

He wants to follow this feeling, the excitement and anticipation for as far as it will take him. Something tells him something good is waiting at the end of it.