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

[ellewod]

“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

[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.

[gunraekae]

love transcending time - aka the ikevamp prologue still unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: here are chapters 3 and 4 of the prologue. it's about 5k words long, so sit back and relax, and I hope you enjoy. i have some shorter works coming soon!

Chapter III: The Hourglass

Outside the lavish mansion where a puzzling banquet was being hosted was a lush coach stopped just past the grand gates. The coachman turned towards his passenger, a rose-haired man who donned a thousand masks. The man, who sometimes played the part of a king, a prince, a lover, but always in all, a liar. He spoke with the ambiguous tone of someone who could laugh or cry at the next word, “... I apologize my good sir, but I have decided not to stay after all.” He faced away from the cruelly smiling crescent moon to re-enter the coach. 

The baffled coachman asked, “But Monsieur, what about the banquet?” 

The mysterious passenger ominously chuckled in return, “Capricious Fate has invited a guest of fairer mien than mine to take my chair. Hers is centre stage tonight, though I shan’t stay to see how she performs.” His eyes were of opposite colour—the right eye a misty green, the left a bloody red. The coachman shivered at his gaze; this was the first time in their evening he had donned an expression that felt… genuine. And it was genuinely dark. “Let us depart anon.” 

The coachman quickly hurried the vehicle off through the night, while its passenger relaxed into the velvet cushions. With only the laughing moon as his companion, he spoke to her—a bard playing to a lone audience, “O, what upturned expectations have come at the arrival of this new player?” The bard had seen MC but for a spare moment, and yet, he found himself haunted by her vision. “No devil can beguile men to persuasions more than she with an angel’s form. Or be she one of heaven’s messengers behind the horns and wings of temptation?” The coach jolted as it hit a divot in the path, sending the bard’s scripts scrawling to the coach's floor. Visible on the cover was the distinct signature of William Shakespeare. 

“Sebastian, if you would make us a cup of herbal tea? I think anise would be—”

“None for me, it’s okay.” As expected, dinner had ended with none of my questions answered. Le Comte remained true to his promise, however, and invited me to his office for an explanation. Still, my anxieties were left rampant in my head, and I could find no energy inside of me to remain courteous after such an absurd banquet. As Sebastian quietly closed the door to retrieve the tea, Le Comte looked at me with a sympathetic mien. “I just want to know how to get back. My aunt, she must be so worried,” I weakly muttered. 

“I presume you wish to exit through the door back to the Louvre? I’m afraid doing so will be difficult. You see, it only opens under very specific conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“The specifics are difficult to explain.” Le Comte rose from his large mahogany chair and stopped in front of a grand hourglass. It was unusually large and had gold furnishings, the top half full of sand. “The door will open once all the sand in this hourglass has fallen. It’s quite precise and I match that timing with the door’s opening myself.” I don’t like how much sand is in there. And how slowly it’s falling if it even is. 

“... How long does that hourglass run for?” I croaked out in a panic. 

“It takes a month, on average.” A MONTH? 

“Pardon me? I must have misheard,” I laughed in incredulity. I could feel my sanity crumbling between my fingers like the sand in that hourglass. 

“It typically takes a month for all the sand to fall. Doesn’t it, Sebastian?” I didn’t even notice the butler come in with the tray of tea. 

“Yes, M. le Comte. Meaning she will not be able to return for another month.” I squeezed my eyes, hoping this was all some sort of nightmare. 

“We’re in Paris, yes?” I asked in trepidation. There has to be another way to leave. As le Comte sipped his tea, he nodded. 

“I’ll just leave through the front door. How far are we from the Louvre?” No one said I had to leave through that strange door. Why would I need to use that to return? I can just get back to the hotel and apologize to my aunt for being gone for this long. Le Comte picked up a newspaper from his desk and gently placed it on my lap. 

“I’d like you to look at the date.” 

I looked at the date and grew cold. This didn’t feel fake—the news articles, the feel. It was genuine. 

“This is from this morning’s edition. As you’ve no doubt gathered from the date, we’re in the nineteenth century.” 

“There’s no way,” I whispered under my breath. 

Le Comte spoke in the same soothing tone, “We’re in France, but not the one you know. You arrived at this mansion by travelling through time.”

I don’t understand. No words came to my mind. There was not a single statement he said that could be serious. And yet, everything I’ve witnessed so far could attest to what he’s been saying. 

“You look like you’re struggling to believe it.” 

“I’m really quite sorry, you’ve been very kind to me. But there is absolutely no way I’d believe time travel before any number of explanations.” 

“It’s true that a newspaper can be easily faked. Perhaps this will convince you?” Le Comte moved towards a window where an old-fashioned brass telescope was pointed outwards. He gently beckoned me over. 

“What an excellent idea, M. le Comte. Seeing is believing, they say.” Sebastian said. 

“It is our good fortune that, owing to the genius of one of our guests, this telescope provides an excellent view of the city.” I let them guide me to it and peered within. Sure enough, when my vision cleared, the entire view of Paris turned back in time and greeted me. No neon signs. No skyscrapers. No cars. I turned the telescope around, hoping to see any glimpse of a modern city, but only Paris of a hundred years ago was present. Gentlemen in morning coats escorting ladies with bustles. There was no prank elaborate enough to dress an entire city. 

“So I’ve really travelled through time?” I gasped in disbelief. 

“There’s a phrase you use in Japanese. Do you recall it, Sebastian?” 

“Yes, we call it a ‘time slip.’” The name hardly matters, we’re facing the impossible! 

“That door connects to both the past and the present. Like me, you used it to travel here, to the past. You may have read or seen stories about time travel, but in my experience, it is neither a simple nor an everyday occurrence. Time travel has very particular rules. And in this case, you cannot return for the next month.” 

“When the sand in the hourglass falls, can the door take me back?” 

“Yes, when that time comes, either you or I could open the door. Like so, I must also follow the rules. It remains sealed to me for a month as well. If the door hadn’t shut, you could have passed through it exactly the way you came. However, once it’s closed, that passage ceases to exist. And the door requires time before it can open that passageway again.” I could have walked back if the door hadn’t closed. I degraded myself in my head. It was my own stupidity that really got me in this situation. 

“Likewise, all the men you’ve met tonight were gathered here by way of that time slip. That is why people from such diverse times and countries are all here, living in my mansion.” So the men I met at dinner are actually legit? Names from history, famous throughout all the world, transcending time in their glory—and they all live together in this mansion. “I can see you still have some doubts. But I assure you, you’ve just met the real van Gogh, the real Mozart, and the real Napoleon.” If time travel really isn’t out of the question, then I suppose it’s not unreasonable to assume that all these men are the real deal. Still, it’s truly unbelievable. 

“And who are you, Comte, that you were able to collect some of history’s greatest figures to live here in your mansion?” I looked at him, fully admiring his figure. This ineffable gentleman who said that people CALL him Comte de Saint-Germain. 

“I promise I’m not trying to evade your question, but in truth, it’s getting quite late. Please, stay the night. Sebastian will prepare a room. In fact, you’re welcome to stay here for the entire month at no cost. It’s the least I could do to land you in this predicament.” 

“For the night perhaps, but I can’t possibly ask you to welcome me for a whole month,” I fumbled over my words at the Comte’s generous offer. 

“You do realize you can’t return to your time for another month, don’t you?” 

“There’s no need to worry, I can make my own way. I’ve done it all my life.” 

Sebastian regarded me with a severe look, “I believe you’ll find that difficult. This is France at the turn of the century. How do you intend to ‘make your way?’” 

“I-I’m not quite sure yet, but—” He has a point. I knew nothing about this place. I didn’t even know what currency they currently used. But I can’t possibly stay here. There’s something they’re not telling me, but I can’t reveal my suspicions, it’d be rude. “I really don’t want to impose after you’ve been so generous,” I finished. 

“You’re not imposing at all, chèrie.” 

“It’s just that you’re offering me so much and asking for nothing in return.” That’s what scares me the most. 

“Please, take this as my apology. If you’re truly that concerned about it, Sebastian could use a hand around the house. The other residents try to do as much, as well.” 

Now I was faced with two choices. Risk spending a month in a house full of famous, time-travelling figures, who most definitely are hiding a secret. Or make a run for it and face the risks of the nineteenth-century Parisian streets at night. I squeezed my eyes as images of my worried family and friends flashed by. Staying with Le Comte really does seem the safest option right now. I turned towards him with a newfound strength. 

“I accept your gracious offer. Thank you, Comte.” I’ll trust them. For now. 

“I’m pleased we’ve come to an agreement. I wasn’t able to answer all your questions tonight, but we can continue tomorrow if you’d like. I also have something important to tell you, but that too, can wait for the morning.” I looked into those golden eyes that first sold me at the musée, and for the first time this evening, found contentment.

“I look forward to it, Comte.” 

“I will inform the others that you will be staying with us and are to be treated with courtesy. Two of them did not join us tonight, but I expect you’ll have the opportunity to meet them soon.” Even more famous names? Having adapted to my expressions, Le Comte assumed my curiosity. “One is Jean d’Arc.” Joan of Arc? The Maid of Orléans who led the French in the Hundred Years’ War? 

“Finally, another woman,” I sighed in relief, “that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m afraid our Jean is a man, though I can see how you’d make that mistake.” At my baffled expression, he added, “As to that, truth and history have a curious way of becoming distorted in the telling.”

Whispers of the past unheard by anyone but him, haunted the air like the specks of dust that floated in the light. The whispers, often cruelly mocking his soul, rightfully punished his monstrous existence; but tonight, a new voice urged him toward the window. An eyepatch covered the left half of his face, concealed by his long, dark hair. Jean d’Arc was the subject of the crescent moon’s mockery tonight. He watched the moon’s smile morph into a bow, bent to release its message of death, then to a sharp blade mid-slice. 

“La lune se moque de moi ce soir.” His voice became lost within the ghosts’ many whispers, but the moon’s mocking laughter remained. “There’s a curse on this night.” 

“Besides Jean, there is one other who did not join us tonight—” Le Comte was cut off by a dull thump, like something heavy falling against the door. “And that’s probably him. I’m sorry to trouble you, MC, but could you get the door?” He smiled almost knowingly while he gracefully held his cup between his lithe fingers. 

“Alright.” 

I opened the door of Le Comte’s office, expecting a man but encountering none. Warily, I stepped out of the hallway, only to stumble on something heavy. Before I met the floor, I landed on the lap of a large and hunched-over man. While I toiled in humiliation, strong arms tightened around my waist. The sweet scent of cigarillos and amber engulfed me. 

The velvety rumbling voice of the man hummed in confusion, “... never seen you here before.” Looking at him now, there was no way he could be comfortable like that. Is he sleeping? Finally, he cracked an eye open. His wolfish eyes were the colour of burnt gold. His lips formed a smirk as he observed my features with the same attention a sculptor might have given his subject. “Thought I’d wait patiently until you were done. Took so long I fell asleep.” A huge, brown, leather jacket lined with fur served to make his figure even larger, but the rest of his clothing was unmatched and messy, albeit in a charming way. The delicious drawl of his voice made me shiver, but his lupine gaze had me guarded. “So, you’re the one he was talking to?” He asked me a question but no words came to mind. He wasn’t letting go. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to. Then, as if waking up from a drowsy stupor, he realized the provocative position we were in. With one hand pushing him up to the ground, and the other supporting my back, we were finally upright. At my wide-eyed expression, he chuckled warmly and murmured an apologetic “scusa” in a deep Italian accent, “Did I surprise you?” 

I nodded wordlessly. 

He hummed again, “heh. Your words. They match the look on your face. How adorable.” His arm lingered around my waist, and at our close proximity, I caught the pleasant aroma of tobacco lingering on his clothes. 

“And here he is. The last of our residents.” Le Comte emerged from his office with a fond sigh. 

“Hmm? Are we introducing ourselves now? I’m Leonardo da Vinci.” 

“Along with Sebastian and myself, nine of these great historical figures reside in this mansion.” Le Comte finally concluded with the introductions. 

Leonardo ran a gloved hand through his brown hair, his voice tinged with that rough, sleepy quality, “I don’t know what happened, but your luck ran out for you to have wound up in a place like this.” 

“W-why would you say that?” 

“Simply put, Cara Mia, I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it here.” 

Chapter IV: Somnum Exterreri

It was not only the residents of the Count’s mansion that relayed the passage of time with the shadow-cleft moon. Ropes of moonlight from the High Gothic windows of the church illuminated the hallways, leaving behind the shadow of a darkly cloaked figure. The innocent humming of an old Romanian lullaby betrayed the blood-eyed creature with the heavy boots traversing the light. The snow-skinned creature gazed at the laughing crescent moon, the light reflected off his softly lucent smile. 

His childlike voice contrasted the vile thoughts that swirled behind his blood eyes, “Though it is doomed to the ugliness of utter obliteration, it remains such a beautiful world.” The man, if he could even be called that, crossed under the nave, where two shadows at the end stood obediently waiting. His eyes remained on the cruel moon, but his words were directed to his companions; they were used to his dream-like antics. “Have you seen it? The crescent moon is so beautiful tonight. Let us look at it together. Faust. Charles.” 

The imposing and brutal figure of a priest cast his cold gaze on the man. A frosty German voice muttered in distaste, “...Hmph. All the time at your disposal and you waste it in folly, Lord Vlad? We should make the church an almshouse if it’s to host the senile.” 

A great contrast to the priest Faust, the syrupy voice of Charles-Henri rose up in defence of their master, “Docteur, le Voïvode wasn’t idle, you know that. He was simply doing his job as a florist.” Charles was luscious candy personified; fluffy locks and innocently dressed with a cherub face and a sinful smile. “I’d love a job like that! So many pretty living flowers that all smell so nice and everyone loves you for what you do.” He turned to his friend, Faust, with a gleaming naïvete, “I want to be loved like that! I want everyone to love me more and more…” 

“You do the word ‘love’ no favours, muttering it constantly like a curse. Hungering for it like a depraved beggar. Then again, you do the very concept no favours, you mercurial nagetier.” 

Charles playfully interjects in a sing-song tone, “We humans need love. We crave it. It’s one of our most moral desires.” 

“Did I hear you say ‘we’ — and ‘human?’” 

The creature the two called ‘Lord Vlad’ hunched over in laughter. 

“Euer Hochgeboren?” Faust asked. 

“...Did something I just said make you laugh?” Charles questioned. 

“I simply remember how easy it is to forget my troubles around you two,” Vlad fondly answered, “then I remember how even the good times are destined to come to an end and I become sad.” 

“You feel sadness?” 

“I do. I feel sadness for the moon in the sky, the flowers in the soil, and the humans who walk between them in ignorance. I want to protect them all so they don’t have to ever feel that way.” 

“You love humans more than anything, don’t you, Voïvode?” Charles giggled. 

“Of course. I love them more than anything.” 

He who felt nothing but love, only love, looked out the window and up to the beloved moon. However, it was not just the moon his depthless blood eyes saw, but something beyond sight. More than human eyes can capture. 

“I’m in love with the world. That’s why as the unwilting flower called a vampire, I must bear this garden into eternity.” The vampire’s confession of love was released into the darkness, a promise that his beloved subjects were unaware of, with only the cruel moon to bear witness. 

Finally, I’m alone. The fluffy white sheets of the bed that Le Comte provided for me enveloped me in their plush embrace. I sank onto the bed in bliss, gaslighting myself into believing this was simply a hotel in present-day Paris, and not a mansion full of history’s greatest figures. I closed my eyes and the image of my worried aunt flashed in my head. I can picture her panicking at the Parisian police and contacting my mother and father. I can see my younger sibling, eyes brimming with tears at the thought that their sister was in danger. My family… My best friend’s face appeared next, her livid voice demanding where I was and why I’d left her. If only this was all a dream. I was willing to accept that I’d travelled back in time with everything I was shown. But the fact that I’d just had dinner with a bunch of time-travelling artists and scientists and musicians? It was harder to believe. I tried to recount everyone I’d met—if they were all truly who they said they were, I’d be damned not to remember. 

Vincent van Gogh, the gentle angel who paints masterpieces.

His brother Theodorus, the enterprising devil that sells them. The brothers were complete opposites, but they seemed incredibly close nonetheless.  

The frivolous playboy, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who created the beloved character, Sherlock Holmes. 

The indulgent charlatan, Osamu Dazai, who penned “No Longer Human.” They were both attention-grabbing, seemingly overcompensating for a secret they were hiding.

Sir Isaac Newton, who was so shy he couldn’t look me in the eye. He was legendary in name, but his presence seemed so small.

Jean d’Arc, who I haven’t met. I couldn’t even picture what she’d—he’d be like.

“Heh. Your words, they match the look on your face. That’s rare.” The dulcet voice of Leonardo da Vinci made me lose myself so easily, but what did his last words mean?

“...As if the banquet wasn’t bad enough.” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who made the most beautiful music but had the most rotten attitude. 

And of course, my saviour, Napoleon Bonaparte. The one who tried so hard to rescue me, and protected me until the very end. But what was he protecting me from? 

I couldn’t picture any of them trying to fool me, and honestly, they all seemed so earnest. Besides, what would any of them gain from lying to me? I wasn’t anyone influential or wealthy; there would be no benefit to keeping me here. Having realized all of that, the reality of my situation finally came into perspective. All of this is real. 

“I need to stop thinking,” I muttered to myself. Even though it was midday for me, the crescent moon outside my window brought a wave of drowsiness over my body. I slipped off my jacket and kicked off my shoes across the room. My foolish outfit, what was all of this for? I think back to this morning when I was getting ready in front of my vanity in the hotel with my aunt—joking between ourselves. It wasn’t so long ago and yet everything was so different now. My room had an ornate little vanity by the window, with a mirror that had engravings around it and empty drawers underneath. I sat before it and saw my reflection—my makeup was the same as before, but my face looked as if I’d aged ten years from exhaustion. The glint of my amethyst earrings caught my attention; these stupid earrings that got me in this predicament. Le Comte’s golden eyes flashed in my head—those depthless glinting eyes that I could get lost so easily in. Removing them from my ears, I threw them down on the vanity and stalked towards the bed, my bed now, I suppose. Not even a minute in, the heavy embrace of sleep wrapped around me and pressed me down on the bed. 

The soft crumple of the thick duvet woke me up. Blinking open my eyes, the bleariness showed me the crescent moon beaming down on my room, stretching the shadows. I thought nothing of it until I heard the creak of the bed frame. What the hell? Every drop of blood in my body turned ice cold. Someone else was in the room with me. And they were on the bed. 

“W-who’s there?” 

“...”

My eyes cleared and showed the shadowed figure crawling from the foot of my bed. It isn’t safe here at all. I lurched upright, but the figure shoved me back down on the sheets. They crawled on top of me, the heavy figure pushing down my arms away from my body. I was fully trapped. 

“Stop!”

“Don’t move.” Their whisper felt like a serpent slithering up my body. Their breath was in my ear. They stopped, and for a few seconds, I wondered if I could force it off of me. Suddenly, sharp teeth sank into my neck. 

A pain unlike any other surged from my neck throughout my entire body. And then, the pain quickly subsided and turned into something indescribable. It’s so… hot. My limbs felt like lead; as if they weren’t my own anymore. Heat flickered across my vision like the fading of a desert mirage. Each warm breath that billowed over my neck made the heat even stronger. A strange longing manifested inside of me, the same emotion I felt when I looked into Le Comte and Leonardo’s eyes. It felt intoxicating. I tried to scream, but instead, a groan laden with ecstasy sounded out. I felt the heat in my core, a slow throbbing pulse that edged me further into blind pleasure. I need to snap out of it! I struggled to open my eyes, which had been rolling back in bliss. Dark red rose petals strung around my bed, snapping me out of my stupor. These weren’t rose petals… They came from me. Blood… That’s my blood! The sight sent my head spinning, but before I lost myself in the void, I heard the figure’s voice. 

“I want it all. Your body, your heart… and your destiny.” NO!

I scrambled out of bed, furiously grasping at my neck. No blood on my fingers, no puncture wound on my neck. My gaze wildly darted around the room. Empty. No shadowed figure. No one who bit me. 

“There’s no one here,” I cried out in relief. That felt too real. My fingers shook as they clutched the sheets. I was shivering. My throat was dry from sleep. My mouth felt balmy, and when I tried to move, everything felt heavy. I need water. 

Though it was difficult to navigate, I retraced the steps I took from the room to Le Comte’s office, and eventually to the kitchen. There were electric lamps that illuminated the room. Sebastian was still up, washing the dishes. After that nightmare, the sight of him almost brought me relief. My footsteps caught his attention, and he turned around.

“Is something the matter?” He asked in concern. Perhaps my appearance exemplified how I felt. 

“Could I bother you for some water?” Sebastian quickly poured me a glass. He guided me to a small table and sat me down, taking the chair beside me. His inquisitive glance obliged me to share my problem. He listened patiently as I recounted my nightmare, leaving out the more inappropriate aspects. “There was someone in my dream,” I began. I told him how this figure was and how he held me down to bite my neck. “...sort of like a vampire would,” I finished. Having confided in someone else alleviated the heaviness in my head. In fact, the more I told him about the dream, the sillier I felt. “Dreams can feel so real at the moment, but talking about them afterwards shows you how absurd they can be,” I chuckled humourlessly. Sebastian didn’t indulge in my laughter. Instead, he seemed quiet in thought. I grew worried he thought I was prattling on. “Anyway, thank you for listening to my silly dream. I hope you don’t find me childish for dreaming about vampires.”

“I don’t find you crazy, nor do I believe it was just a silly dream,” Sebastian unexpectedly replied. My brows furrowed. “Indeed, it’s a good sign.”

“How is my bad dream a good sign?” 

“I believe you saw that dream because you’re here in this mansion.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

“The dream serves as a warning… That you are to give them neither your body nor your heart.” A pang of unease hit me. This must be the foreboding feeling I had earlier. This must be the reason why even the kindest residents seemed to be hiding a terrible secret. 

“The residents of this mansion, everyone you’ve met tonight…” 

“No,” I whispered under my breath.

“They are exactly what you saw in your dream. They are all vampires.” 

[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!

[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.

[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. :)

[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 :^))

[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

[sicknessbysalem]

let’s see it happen! it sounds like an incredible story

ask and you shall receive!

fun fact: this was the prologue to a book I started with Cassius and Calypso in 2015-16. I never ended up doing much to it, but I still have the fragments and such so maybe someday i’ll revisit it.

if you have any more questions, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

THIS IS NOT A SICKFIC (re: not my normal writing for this blog)!!!!

that said;

tw for chronic illness discussions, talk of death, deals with demons, demonology, rituals, self sacrifice

The air in the dimly lit room was thick with the scent of burning candles and old parchment. Calypso sat hunched over a large, ancient tome, its pages yellowed with age and filled with intricate script.

The words, written in an old dialect of Latin, seemed to swirl and shift as she read, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across the text.

The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the occasional rustle of the pages as she turned them.

Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but she forced herself to focus. She was tired—more than tired, really—but she couldn’t afford to rest. Not when Cassius was lying in the bed behind her, barely able to lift his head from the pillow.

His health had taken a turn for the worse after their last performance, and the sight of him so weak and drained filled her with a sense of helplessness that gnawed at her insides.

Cassius had always been the stronger one, in her eyes at least. He was the one who could endure the most, who could keep going no matter how exhausted he was.

But lately, his chronic health issues had become more severe. His lupus flared up frequently, and the chronic fatigue that plagued him left him bedridden for days.

It broke Calypso’s heart to see him like this—pale, weak, and unable to muster the energy to do the things he loved.

Tonight, he was especially worn out. The show they had performed earlier had taken everything out of him.

She had noticed it in his eyes, in the way he had moved sluggishly through their routines, his steps less precise, his spells slower to cast. By the time they had returned home, he had barely made it to his bed before collapsing onto the mattress, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Now, he was asleep, his breathing steady but labored, his face drawn and pale. This was their routine lately. Daily shows did him no favors, and any progress he made during the week was quickly erased with the length and intensity of their weekend performances. This was normal, now.

Calypso’s gaze flicked to him, worry etched into every line of her face. She had never seen him like this, so drained, so utterly exhausted.

She knew they were both pushing their limits, but Cassius… he was suffering in a way she couldn’t ignore. The fear of losing him gnawed at her, keeping her on edge.

It was why she had buried herself in the old tomes that filled their study, hoping to find something—anything—that might help him.

But tonight, as she studied one of the oldest books in their collection, something caught her eye.

A passage, written in a darker ink than the rest, seemed to jump out at her. The words were difficult to decipher, the dialect more ancient than even she was used to, but as she painstakingly translated the text, a chill ran down her spine.

The passage spoke of a prophecy, one tied to their bloodline—a lineage of powerful witches that stretched back to the days of the witch trials.

The words were cryptic, but as she pieced together the meaning, dread settled in her stomach like a stone.

The prophecy spoke of twins, born to carry on the bloodline’s legacy, but only one would survive. The other would be consumed by the very power they sought to control, their life force drained until nothing remained.

"Of the twin witches born to this sacred line, only one shall survive to see the dawn.

The other shall fall, consumed by fate’s design, their life claimed by the forces they cannot outrun."

Calypso’s breath caught in her throat as she read the words again, her heart pounding in her chest.

Twins. It had to be referring to her and Cassius—they were the only twins in their family for generations, the first since the days of the trials.

The prophecy, with its ominous tone, seemed to speak directly to her, and the implication was clear.

Cassius was going to die.

The thought sent a wave of panic through her, cold and suffocating. She glanced over at her brother. His breathing was shallow, his face etched with pain even in sleep. The sight tore at her heart, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered to herself, “I won’t let that happen.”

But the fear lingered, gnawing at her with relentless persistence.

What if the prophecy was true? What if this was his fate?

She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him—not like this, not when they had fought so hard to survive.

Calypso’s mind raced as she considered her options. She couldn’t let this prophecy come to pass. She had to find a way to protect him, to ensure that he would live.

But how? The tomes were full of spells and rituals, but nothing that could reverse a prophecy, nothing that could guarantee his survival.

Unless…

A thought, wild and desperate, flickered in the back of her mind. There were rituals—dangerous, forbidden rituals—that could bind one’s life to another’s, that could offer protection in exchange for something precious. But they were risky, and the consequences were often dire.

But what choice did she have?

If the prophecy was true, then Cassius was in grave danger, and she couldn’t bear to lose him. She had to do something—anything—to keep him safe.

Determination steeled her resolve, and Calypso began to search through the tomes with renewed urgency, flipping through the pages with trembling hands.

She would find a way. She had to. Even if it meant making a deal with forces she didn’t fully understand, even if it meant sacrificing everything she had. She would protect her brother, no matter the cost.

And so, as the night wore on and the candles burned low, Calypso delved deeper into the ancient texts. There had to be something, anything, that would fix this.

-

Days turned into nights as Calypso pored over the ancient tomes, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room. Her determination was unyielding, her fear for Cassius a constant, gnawing presence in her chest.

When she finally found the ritual she had been searching for, it felt as though a door had opened, revealing a path she had been too desperate to see before.

It was dangerous, forbidden even she was sure, but she no longer cared about the risks. She would do whatever it took to protect her brother. She had to.

The night of one of their shows arrived, and as Calypso readied herself in her dressing room, her thoughts were far from the performance.

She went through the motions of applying her makeup, her hands steady but her mind racing with anticipation. She couldn’t risk performing the ritual at home—Cassius would be too curious, too worried. Here, in the solitude of her dressing room, she would have the privacy she needed.

When she was certain she was alone, Calypso moved quickly, gathering the materials she had prepared earlier. The room was quiet, the sounds of the theater beyond the door muffled by the thick walls.

She spread out a black silk cloth on the floor, smoothing it with trembling hands before carefully placing the items she needed: five dark candles, a piece of chalk, and a small vial of her own blood.

Her heart pounded as she drew the summoning circle on the cloth, her movements precise despite the anxiety bubbling in her chest. The chalk left a fine, white line against the dark silk, forming intricate symbols that intertwined with one another, creating a complex web of power. She figured this would he easiest. Nothing said she couldn’t do it like this.

The circle was ancient, its design meant to channel energies from beyond the mortal plane.

When the circle was complete, she placed the candles at the designated points, lighting them with a whispered incantation.

The flames flickered to life, their light casting strange, twisting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

Calypso knelt at the edge of the circle, her breath coming in shallow, nervous gasps. The room had grown colder, the air heavy with an otherworldly presence.

She uncorked the vial of blood, the dark liquid catching the light as she carefully poured a few drops into the center of the circle.

The blood spread, seeping into the chalk lines, as if being absorbed by the very symbols she had drawn.

Her hands shook as she began to chant, her voice trembling but resolute. The words, ancient and powerful, slipped from her lips like a prayer, invoking forces she could barely comprehend.

The candles flickered, their flames dancing as though caught in an unseen wind. The temperature in the room continued to drop, and Calypso could see her breath misting in the air, each exhale a visible manifestation of the tension filling the space.

As she chanted, the darkness within the circle began to shift, coalescing into a swirling mass of shadows.

The air grew thick with the scent of ozone, and a low hum resonated through the room, vibrating through the very bones of the building.

The shadows twisted and writhed, their movement hypnotic, drawing Calypso’s gaze deeper into the void.

Suddenly, the darkness within the circle snapped into focus, and a figure began to emerge.

The shadows peeled away like layers of smoke, revealing a man—tall and slender, with an unsettling beauty that was both captivating and terrifying.

His skin was pale, almost luminescent, and his dark hair framed a face that was strikingly angular, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline.

But it was his eyes that truly caught her attention—deep, bottomless pools of swirling cosmic light, as though the night sky itself had taken up residence within them.

The man—or rather, the being—regarded her with a faint, knowing smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

“My, my, you are one powerful witch.”

His voice was smooth, low, tempting in ways Calypso hardly understood. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room with an energy that crackled with power. Calypso could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, every instinct screaming at her to be wary, to tread carefully.

“You have called, and I have come,” the being said, his voice never wavering from the cool and calm voice that wasn’t quite a whisper but more… general soft speaking.

“What is your name?” Calypso asked, reaching for her book of demons and demonology.

“I am Asterix, you will not find me in your texts,” Asterix said, “Consider me a fashioner of the cosmos, a dream keeper perhaps.”

Calypso’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected to summon anyone specific—just a being powerful enough to fulfill her desperate wish.

But now, faced with Asterix, she realized just how precarious her situation was. She had called upon a force beyond her comprehension, and now she stood at the precipice of a choice that could change everything.

“I need your help,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain composed.

“I would assume so, it is not every day I get summoned, nor are my brothers and sisters.” Asterix told her. He offered a smile, that was somehow threatening and soothing all at once. “Definitely not one of your power.”

“Right… well…” Calypso said, “My brother… I need you to protect him.”

Asterix’s smile widened ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light.

“Ah, the twin?” he murmured, stepping closer to the edge of the circle. “A bond as ancient as time itself. But you must understand, child, that all things come with a price.”

Calypso swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She had known there would be a cost—nothing this powerful could be gained without sacrifice—but the intensity of Asterix’s gaze made her feel as though he could see straight into her soul.

“Relax, dear, I am only trying to get to know you. I do not make deals with those who wish only for their benefit.” Asterix said, “You’re a twenty year old showgirl, you use your magic along side your brother, your twin at that to perform for unsuspecting townspeople.”

“Well, yea, but we-“

“Are under contract,” Asterix said, “Or rather, they made a contract and you were an expense. Perhaps even with one of my brethren.”

“Yes, but I’m not looking to get out of that,” Calypso said, “My brother is sick. Very sick. And as his sister, I feel it is my duty to protect him.”

“You are noble, to be willing to sell yourself to a demon if it means saving your brother,” Asterix said, “But I must warn you, everything comes with a price to pay.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” she said, her voice stronger now, fueled by her determination. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Asterix tilted his head slightly, studying her with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality.

“You are brave,” he remarked, though there was something in his tone that suggested he found it amusing. “But bravery alone will not shield you from the consequences of this pact.”

He took another step forward, his presence pressing against the boundaries of the circle, testing its limits. The candles flickered wildly, the flames straining as if they were being pulled toward him.

“If you wish to protect your brother, I can grant you that,” Asterix continued, his voice low and hypnotic. “But know this—your magic, the very essence of your being, will become your burden. Each spell you cast, each power you wield, will exact a toll on your body and soul. The pain will be yours to bear. This also means it could very well destroy you.”

Calypso felt her breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in. The thought of her magic turning against her, of each spell causing her pain, was terrifying.

But the thought of losing Cassius was worse—far worse.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not when there was something she could do, even if it meant sacrificing herself in the process.

“I accept,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Asterix’s smile grew wider, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Very well,” he intoned, his voice taking on a deeper resonance that seemed to echo through the room. “The pact is made.”

He extended his hand, and as he did, a tendril of darkness reached out from within the circle, wrapping around Calypso’s wrist like a serpent.

She gasped as a searing pain shot through her arm, spreading quickly through her entire body. It was as though something deep within her was being torn apart, twisted and reshaped by the demon’s power.

Calypso’s vision blurred, the room spinning as the pain intensified. She could feel the magic inside her shifting, warping, as if being branded with Asterix’s touch.

It was a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced, a burning, wrenching sensation that left her gasping for breath.

She clutched at her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as she tried to ground herself against the onslaught.

Asterix watched her with an almost clinical detachment, his eyes glowing brighter as the pact solidified.

“The protection you seek is granted,” he said softly, his voice like velvet over steel. “But remember, young witch, that every spell you cast from this day forward will remind you of the price you have paid. The pain will be your constant companion, a reminder of the lengths you were willing to go to for the one you love.”

Calypso bit down on a cry as the pain reached its peak, her vision going white for a moment before slowly fading back.

She could feel the demon’s presence within her now, a dark thread woven into the very fabric of her being. It was done—there was no turning back.

Asterix withdrew his hand, the tendrils of darkness retreating back into the circle. Calypso slumped forward, her body trembling as the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving her feeling drained and hollow. She looked up at Asterix, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but her resolve remained unbroken.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the strain.

Asterix inclined his head, his expression inscrutable.

“You are strong, Calypso Delacroix,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “Stronger than you know. But remember—strength comes at a cost. And you will feel that cost every time you wield the power you hold so dear.”

With that, the shadows around Asterix began to swirl, his form slowly dissolving back into the void from which he had emerged. His voice lingered in the air, echoing softly as he vanished from sight.

“Call upon me if you have need, but be warned—the price has been paid, and there are no bargains left to make.”

And then he was gone, the room returning to its previous stillness.

Calypso sat back on her heels, her body trembling from the strain of the ritual and the deal she had just made.

The room was silent, the candles flickering weakly in the aftermath of the summoning. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the weight of what she had done pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting.

She had made a deal with a demon, a deal that would protect Cassius at the cost of her own well-being. But it was worth it—she knew it was. As long as Cassius was safe, she could endure anything.

She also knew nobody could know. Least of all Cassius. But, to her, it was more than worth it.

[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.

[rylandfalkov]

May Daily Writing Challenge Day 6 - Gleaming

Warnings: Some implied sexy times, also a slightly NSFW picture below the cut

Ryland had always found it easy to ham it up for the red carpet cameras. He felt strangely at ease when all eyes were on him, and arriving with the lady of the night, Miss Vixannya Ana’diel, would offer him that extra attention that he adored. He dazzled in the gleaming spotlights and the flashing cameras in his designer suit meant to match her gown, sneaking in a few flirty moments with Annya to create a stir of whispers. Yes, he arrived with her last year as well. Yes, he was a part of the entertainment cast later. The rumor mill would start up again, and they would laugh over it later as they did last year.

He left her to the adoring crowd to pose alone and answer questions for a while, turning his attention to the art itself. The previous year he had been one of her muses during the Hedonismia exhibit, a theme that was much better suited to his personality. However this particular gallery featured a good amount of Dracthyr muses, including one very familiar face. He knew that Annya was painting Tazindrox, but the painting itself had turned out more beautiful than he could have imagined. As far as being able to choose your own Visage, Taz had done a damn good job of it, and the Dracthyr being slightly socially awkward made the whole thing even better.

He ran into a variety of familiar faces admiring the art and briefly chatted them all up, but had to make an early exit in order to prepare for the afterparty. The performance space in the Air room was immaculate; a true aerialist’s wonderland. The lighting and atmosphere made it feel as if one were among the clouds; shifting gradually between day and night. He was absolutely in his element, pun intended.

Body paint and glitter was his costume of choice, opting for mesh dance shorts as well to keep things held in place. But by the end of the night, those too would be gone. It was what was expected, after all. The performers were all top notch in their particular skills, but many came to watch for the novelty of it all. Especially in those later hours, when the dancers started performing together on the various contraptions. 

He had spent hours practicing with Vesdrina and Aluzen, two of the same performers from last year with whom he had amazing chemistry. They made their performance atop the large trapeze bar look flawless. Little would anyone know that everything done, including the kissing, groping, and spontaneous sexual acts, were actually all well scripted for their own safety. The passion and lustful looks were definitely real; but that was easy when working with beautiful and talented people.

Between the performances, they rested in their personal green room, or were welcome to mingle among the crowds and, essentially, do as they please. Ryland absolutely took it as an opportunity to flirt and network. Occasionally he could be found being pulled into a dark corner, or even being openly sexualized in a variety of ways, with consent of course. There was something thrilling to him about having complete strangers fawn over and fondle him, whispering various offers for later in the evening, or for later dates. He just as much enjoyed the ones that loved to only watch as well, and would be the first to admit that exhibitionism was his top kink. This party absolutely catered to all of his desires, and it was almost a shame that it lasted for only one night.

Later into the night, or during the small hours depending on how one looked at it, he and Sera would eventually find their way back to Vixannya. No doubt by this time all of her paintings had sold, and everyone would have been greeted and made to feel welcome. She too deserved to have a wild time at her own soiree, and the two of them would absolutely provide that for her in the dark recesses of the Fire room. 

@daily-writing-challenge @vixannya @tazindrox @serazhen

[leaderoffestivals]

EnStars x Merc Storia Chapter 2: The Prince of The Land of Tears

Madara: 😏✨ 

Mayoi: Why in the world are you looking my way―― C-can it be that you’re actually referring to ME? Th-that’s IMPOSSIBLE! You can’t offer someone like ME up to our benefactor―… Uuu~ Aira-san, SOMEONE, please say somethinggg―!

Scenario Writer: ? Season: ? Characters: Mikejima Madara, Amagi Hiiro, Shiratori Aira, Ayase Mayoi, Kazehaya Tatsumi (EnStars: MaM & ALKALOID) Merc, Yuu, Rustoa, Segideel, Theatre Troupe Girl, Chairman (Merc Storia)

Rustoa: ―Someday definitely~, I’ll be able to smile. And that is why I~, will continue to look forward~!

I am~ the Prince~, of The Land of Tears~ ♪

Aira: … … …

(“The Prince of the Land of Tears”―That’s the title of the script that’s been written and directed wholly by Rustoa-san alone… …

I really like this heart-warming story about a lonely Prince who used to live alone in the Land of Tears, but then sets out in search of friends and manages to develop bonds with various people he meets along the way―

―The pair of brothers who regretted the rash parting of ways after a quarrel, the princess who lacked confidence in herself, a lost boy who did not know his way home… … 

The setting’s a little too complex in some places, but there are many interesting characters too. Howeverrrr… …)

Segideel: Fuwawaa~...

Rustoa: Oh~hh, my Prince~, please tell me~, how may I~, be able to dry your tears~? ♪

Mayoi: A―about that, please hold! It’s commendable that you’re focusing on the song, but you also happened to be neglecting the steps there― 

And since you’re playing multiple roles by yourself, even a seemingly negligible delay can and will affect your performance greatly later on.

I know it must be greatly annoying to be told such by someone like me, but let’s start over again―this time, with the same precision as the hands of a clock. 

Rustoa: YES, MASTER!

Mayoi: EEEEK―NO! Please! Do not bow your head to meeee!

Madara: Haha~! Isn’t it wonderful to have such a hardworking disciple, thouuugh? 

Aira: (... … …

I never imagined things would turn out like this… …) 

Aira: KI―KINGDOM~!?

And what even is Mehterhaane!? Does such a place even exist in Japan? Or is it from someplace overseas―?

Yuu: Hm~m… … Mehterhaane has 18 countries, but I don't remember ever hearing of one named ‘Japan’ listed among them.

Aira: N―no way… …!

Mayoi: Could it be… … that we’ve somehow been transported to another world―one different from the one we know? 

Tatsumi: It’s hard to believe when you say it so suddenly, but―

―we’ve indeed encountered those unknown creatures called ‘monsters’ which do not exist in our world, and witnessed the power of Healing techniques―

All of that makes Mayoi-san’s theory of us having been transferred between worlds seem increasingly plausible. 

Madara: Hmm~m. If that were true, was our transfer here an accidental occurrence, or an intentional one? 

… … …

Yuu-san, a question; is this a phenomenon that’s a common occurrence in this world?

Yuu: Eh? No… … At the very least, I have never heard about anything like this happening before.

Mayoi: In other words, we’re just like lost children, brought here without knowing the reason why and with no way of knowing how to get back home, aren’t we?

Aira: You’re kidding me… … Please don’t tell me Hiiro-kun’s knowledge of roughing it outdoors is actually gonna come in handy in our situation like this?

Hiiro: Umu! I’ll be happy if it proves to be helpful!

Aira: That isn’t something to be genuinely happy about! 💢

Tatsumi: Everything will be alright. As the saying goes, “When three people gather to exchange ideas, great wisdom equal to that of the sages may deign to arise.” We have more than that number gathered here, and more importantly, we are all comrades who know each other well. 

I’m sure we will definitely find a way to get back home. 

Aira: Tattsun-senpai… … …

Hiiro: (... … I want to bring laughter to the lives of others with my singing and dancing. That’s what I said to Nii-san during MDM. 

I want to become an idol. Even though I still do not understand what the essence of being an idol means.

Together with everyone from ALKALOID, here… …)

We will get back home, Aira. Together with everyone here, as well. 

Aira: … …!

Yes, you’re absolutely right. We’ve overcome all those ordeals and were able to continue being idols together. We definitely can’t stumble or falter in a place like this!

I have to grit my teeth and strive harder as a member of ALKALOID―Our fans are waiting for us to do just that, too. Alright~, I’m starting to feel more positive about our situation now!

Hiiro: If Aira’s feeling cheerful again, that makes me happy too!

Rustoa: What an exquisitely beautiful camaraderie you have… …! Alright! It’s decided! I will do everything I can to help you guys!

Aira: Eh~? 

Rustoa: I’m only a fledgling actor who just finished his debut performance, but I’ve managed to establish a pretty wide circle of contacts from that. 

I’ll ask among everyone I know if there’s anyone in the same situation as you guys!

Yuu: Then, that goes for us as well. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help. 

Merc: We’d be absolutely delighted to assist you!

Aira: Would you guys really do that for us~?! Ahhhh… … That would really help us out!

Hiiro: It’s really reassuring to have the number of allies around us increase when we’re in such unfamiliar territory!

Tatsumi: We will strive to give our best as well. With these numbers here, we’ll be able to gather information even if we have to split up our party.

Rustoa: In the case, let me lead you to the event venue. That’s where everyone who’s involved in the event is gathered right now. 

Aira: Yes, thank you so much~!

Madara: (... … Rustoa-san―and Yuu-san and Merc-san too. All of them are such kind-hearted people that I can’t help feeling worried about it. However, it’s a fact that all of us were saved because of that kindness too… … …)  

I’m a person who lives by the principle of returning the favour received in kind. If you’re ever in need of a helper on stage, do feel free to call on me anytime! 

Rustoa: Do you really mean that~!?

Well, you see~... … In truth, the Rustoa Theatre Company I belong to consists of only two members―me, and my partner, Segideel. I’ve always wished for someone to give me some objective feedback about my performance!

I would really like it if you could come and view my rehearsals during any pockets of free time you might have… … Would that be too much to ask? 

Aira: Not at all! If it’s just something like that, I’d be more than happy to help you out anytime! 

Madara: That’s riiight. Come to think of it―acting might not be their specialty, but we do have someone who’s exceedingly capable of giving advice on both singing and dancing with us~! ✨

Mayoi: Why in the world are you looking my way――― C-can it be that you’re actually referring to ME?

Th-that’s IMPOSSIBLE! You can’t offer someone like ME up to our benefactor―… Uuu~ Aira-san, SOMEONE, please say somethinggg―!

Aira: Yes, yes! That’s a great idea! I’ve been taught by Mayo-san before, so I can totally vouch for Mayo-san’s ability as a mentor!

Rustoa: Are you truly such an amazing person?! Please, I implore you! Grant me your support!

Mayoi: AHHHHH―STOP―PLEASE! The only thing a person like meeEE is capable of is smashing each and every one of your expectations to the groUNDDDD!

Aira: (All that happened one day ago… …

And that’s how we ended up mentoring Rustoa-san on his acting skills in our free time, huh…

… …Hmm?)

Theatre Troupe Girl: Ah, Chairman! Look, our costumes have finally arrived! That means that everything's ready for the actual show!

Chairman: Indeed. Everything’s looking good from my side, too!

Theatre Troupe Girl: Ahh~! I’m so excited, I just can’t wait for the actual performance to begin! Chairman, please join me for practice! Lalala~ ♪

Chairman: Hey! Wait a minute! Where are you going while singing like that!?

Aira: … … Ahaha~

? ? ?: … … Ra…Ku

Rustoa: Aira-kun? 

Aira: UHYAAA~!? Ru-RUSTOA-SAN―WHEN DID YOU GET HERE~!? Weren’t you just up on stage a moment ago… …? 

Hiiro: Mayoi-senpai instructed us to take a break just now. 

Aira: Oh, is that so?

Tatsumi: Yes. We’ve been moving without a break since this morning. It’s important to keep oneself properly hydrated too. 

Rustoa: Haaa~. It looks like there are still many areas I’ve got to work and improve on. However, I won’t give up now!

This is a really rare opportunity for me to receive personal coaching from an idol after all… … ALL RIGHT, LET’S DO THIS! 

Mayoi: NO~! That’s why I’m telling you, PLEASE, take a short break now… …!

Madara: Haha~! You’re reeeally a lot tougher than I thought you’d be, though!

Rustoa: Even though I may look like this, I used to be a soldier in the employ of a private army. 

I would guard the safety of travellers touring throughout this Kingdom, and I’d have to battle monsters sometimes too, so I’m pretty confident about my physical stamina and endurance, you know!

Besides, I need to make this show a success, no matter what. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.  

Aira: No matter what… …―

Rustoa: That’s right. No matter what.

Tatsumi: … … I do think it’s natural for actors to wish for the success of their performances, but I can sense an especially strong personal will from you as well. 

Is there any particular reason for that? 

Rustoa: You’re right, there is. 

I mentioned earlier that I used to belong to a private army, didn’t I? 

I had to quit because of a reason… … But then, it so happened I was invited to watch a stage play to raise my spirits… … 

And there, I had my heart stolen from me, by that performance. 

Rustoa: I was so moved by the actors’ singing, dancing and their entire story―I couldn’t control the emotions welling up inside me at all. 

Throughout that performance, I had a thought. O​​hhh. I want to be an actor. 

I want to be an actor who can touch the audience’s hearts and make them feel joy.  

​​Rustoa: And so after that, I kept attending auditions desperately. I really wanted to be an actor, with all my heart, you see. 

However… … none of it worked out. I was terrible at both singing and dancing. I couldn’t catch the attention of any theatre group or convince them to take me in. 

I was so ridiculously untalented, it was just laughable. As an actor, I was quite simply put, an underachiever.

Aira: (An underachiever… …) 

Rustoa: The one and only talent I have in me, is the will to keep trying, with everything I’ve got. There was a child who made me realise that… …

And that’s how I came to start my own theatre company, even though its members consist of just me and Segi-san now.

Aira: (Wanting to achieve something so badly, desperately trying to make it come true… … However, reality is just that cruel… …

… … Even so, it’s simply impossible to even think about giving up on that dream. Rustoa-san is just the same as I was. The ‘me’ who just couldn’t give up on being an idol… …)

Rustoa: My comrades from the private army have always supported me even though I’m like this.

All the props I’m using on the stage today have been gifted by them. They even went and ordered this custom-made instrument from another country called an ‘electric guitar’, which is quite wasted on me, but―

I want to create a stage with our performance and their props which can make everyone in the audience smile with all their hearts.

Tatsumi: And therein lies the reason as to why you need the performance to succeed, ‘no matter what’. 

Rustoa: Yes, that’s right. 

Mayoi: … … Even though it may be troubling for you if someone like me were to give you my support, but―

Aira: ―We will definitely cheer you on as you strive towards your dream, Rustoa-san. 

Rustoa: … …!

Thank you. 

Hiiro: Umu! I’m really looking forward to seeing Rustoa-san’s performance on stage!

Rustoa: Right! Ahh~ even so… … I’d really love to see you guys perform on stage sometime as well. I’m sure it’ll definitely be a very glamorous and thrilling stage too!

Madara: A free-for-all performance, huh… …? Ohhh, I see~, that sounds really interestiiing!

Aira: Mikejima-senpai? What’s with that look on your face… …? What in the world are you thinking of doing… …? 

Yuu: Ah~! There you guys are! We’ve brought some refreshments for you!

Merc: We have lots of sweets and tea for everyone here!

Segideel: Fuwawaaa~!

Rustoa: Ah, it’s Yuu-kun and Merc-san! Segi-san is here, too!

Segideel: Fuwaaa~... …!

Hiiro: … … Are you offering those refreshments to me? Thank you so much!

Segideel: FUwaAAA~ 🌸 

Aira: Ahaha, he’s started to dance. It feels so healing to watch Segi-san like this, huh~... …

(I was really surprised to hear that he was Rustoa-san’s partner, but I guess a Healed monster can be considered an excellent companion like this too… …?

However… …)

Segideel: Fuwa, FUWAAA~

Madara: Ohh~! Are you offering those to me too~~? Mama is reeeally grateful for that!

Aira: (I guess we really ARE in a different world after all… …)

—————-To be continued——————-

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Translator’s Notes

1) This is unproofed, so if there’s any feedback, please DM me. 

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 7 Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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———————————

Chapter 7: Those Who Slither (“False Friends” in localization) (Section 2)

Eliwood took his allies with him and rushed towards the source of the scream. There, a middle aged man who appeared to be a traveling merchant was being attacked by thieves.

He unsheathed his sword and immediately began to fight them. Thanks to the hard work of his allies, they succeeded in driving all of them away. Among them, Guy’s performance stood out the most. More than just two or three thieves fell to his sword.

Meanwhile, the middle aged merchant the thieves had originally been chasing seemed to have used up all of his energy running around, as he was collapsed on the ground.

His long hair was tied back in a ponytail; and his hairline was beginning to recede, giving away his age. His neatly trimmed mustache glistened with sweat.

“Are you alright?” Eliwood asked worriedly.

The man looked around and realized that he had been saved.

“Ah!! Y-You saved me?!”

“Yes, we chased away all of the thieves. Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, as you can see. Thanks to all of you, I’m fit as a fiddle!” The man stood up and thumped his chest, putting Eliwood’s mind at ease.

“I’m glad. Now, if you’ll excuse us… Let’s get going, Hector.”

“P-Please wait! I must do something to thank you!!” Eliwood and the others started to turn away, but the man panicked and stopped them. He would probably feel bad if he didn’t do something to thank them for saving his life.

But Eliwood had not helped him to obtain any reward. He’d helped someone in need. That was all. “Please don’t worry about that. This was nothing major for us.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t take anything from someone as shabby as you!” Hector laughed.

“Sh-Shabby?”

“Hector!” Eliwood scolded him.

“Oops!” Hector panicked and closed his mouth.

Meanwhile, upon being called shabby, the man cleared his throat and tried to act with dignity appropriate of his age, to little effect. Though there was a charm in his face, it was not much.

“My name is Merlinius, and I am a traveling merchant of various wares. Though I may not look it, I am rather wealthy…”

“Whoa, you’re a merchant, old man? You really can’t judge a book by its cover!”

“Hector, everything you’ve just said has been rude! Merlinius, sir, please try not to mind anything he says…” Eliwood sighed

“Not at all, I didn’t mind it at all… Ahem! A-Anyway, you two appear to be of very high status… May I ask you your names?”

Even everything until now had given away that they were indeed of very high status. Upon learning their identities, Merlinius’ eyes opened as wide as saucers.

“Oh! You two are Ostia and Pherae’s…!! And those are especially high ranking houses within Lycia, aren’t they?! It is an honor to be saved by two such fine noblemen!”

Merlinius bowed so low his head nearly touched the ground.

Eliwood was embarrassed. He’d had no intention of doing something so great that Merlinius would give him such thanks.

However, Hector felt differently. “It ain’t bad at all to be so greatly appreciated. Say, Merlinius. What are you gonna do after this?”

“Huh? Me? I intended to travel around Lycia selling my wares, but… With it being so dangerous right now, I might not be able to.”

“If you don’t have any plans, then how about you come with us?”

“Hector?” Eliwood, questioned, not understanding what Hector was getting at.

Hector continued on to answer him, “Our travels are gonna go on longer than we thought, so both our allies and supplies are only gonna increase, right? I was thinkin’ it would be a big help if he takes care of our stuff.”

“Oh! What a great idea!! That��s my specialty!” Merlinius immediately jumped on Hector’s proposal.

“Is it alright with you?” Eliwood asked.

“Of course! To be honest, it has been my dream for many years to serve a royal house. To think that dream is about to become a reality… Sniff. I cannot hold back the tears. Lord Hector! Lord Eliwood!! May you both be this good to poor old Merlinius forever and ever!”

Merlinius exclaimed as he wiped away his tears. 

Eliwood smiled without even realizing it.

Eliwood liked this man Merlinius, who seemed to hold no hatred within him, and possessed both a passion and charm one would usually not expect from a middle-aged man. Hector seemed to feel the same, making him smile when he looked at Merlinius. He was a funny merchant.

After all of this was over, Merlinius would serve House Pherae as manager to all its finances, but that was still a long way away.

☆

"What?! Marquess Pherae's son is coming here?"

Upon hearing this news from his son, Marquess Darin of Laus raised an eyebrow.

Though because his eyebrows were so thin, it was more accurate to say that one, and only one, of his eyes widened.

He had a square face with a hooked nose. Though he was beginning to get older and his wrinkles were starting to become visible, he still looked younger than he truly was.

"Yes, Father. I received the information in a report from one of the guards. They are still on the other side of the hill, but they should reach the castle in thirty minutes or so…"

"What does this mean, Lord Ephidel?"

When his son, who was the spitting image of him, was finished speaking, Darin looked at the man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

The man's entire body was covered in a black robe, and his eyes glared at them from under the hood that covered his chiseled face. His white skin, so pale it even looked sickly; and gold eyes, shining with an uncanny light; felt as if they could cause anyone he laid his eyes on to freeze.

"...If that is the case, then when they arrived at Castle Santaruz, Marquess Helman may have still been alive.” Ephidel said as he stood up from his chair and walked over towards Darin.

He was the eerie black-hooded man who had frequently visited Castle Santaruz, and he was also the person who had killed Helman to silence him.

“Wh-What did you say?!”

“They likely did not have much time, however, there is… a chance that they spoke.”

“How could this be?! Wouldn’t it mean all of our plans are ruined?!”

Ephidel stared coldly at the panicking Darin and said to calm him, “Now, there’s no reason to panic so, is there? Even if… Lord Eliwood does know something, Pherae no longer holds any power. At best, all they can do is inform Marquess Ostia.”

“Inform Ostia?! Surely that would be terrible!! The new Marquess Ostia may be young, but he is very capable. That Helman was such a coward! To think he would betray us in the final steps of our plan…!! We still need some more time until the rebellion is ready to commence!”

Ephidel’s words did not calm Darin, rather, they only made him panic more.

Everything he'd been building up to fulfill his ambitions was starting to crumble completely, or so he was starting to suspect, and it felt as if he had been knocked down into the bottom layer of hell.

But Ephidel's next words saved him from the depths of that hell.

"In that case… you should take care of them before anything reaches Marquess Ostia's ears."

"Of course… So there is a way! If they try to send a message to Ostia, Laus will not let it through. We still have a way to silence them!"

"We will kill them here. No matter what it takes to do it…"

"...Now, I must immediately send my best soldiers after the-"

"Father! If it is alright with you, then give this responsibility to me."  His son stepped forward to ask for the role.

"Erik! Erik, my son, can you do it?"

Darin asked to emphasize the weight of the task at hand.

"I went to school in Ostia with that good-for-nothing Eliwood. If I go, then he, as friendly as he is, will no doubt let his guard down. That is when I will defeat them in one fell swoop…"

"Of course!"

"Forgive me… but wouldn't this be a huge burden to bear for your son? If he was killed, it would put a wrench in our plans."

Ephidel was right. If they failed to catch Eliwood here, and he told Ostia of what was happening in Laus, it would be his downfall. Not only would the plot he had planned in secret from Ostia end in utter failure, it would even put himself in danger.

But as the successor to his bloodline, Darin trusted his son, and greatly doted on him. "Not at all. I know I am saying this as his father, but Erik is a rather skilled strategist. It will be no trouble for him at all to crush someone the likes of Eliwood."

Darin turned towards Ephidel and declared confidently, then placed both of his hands on his son's shoulders and gave him words of encouragement. “It's settled! I will leave everything to you, Erik! Bring down the beloved son of Marquess Pherae!!"

"Yes, Father! You can count on me!" With all of his father's hopes resting on him, Erik left the room.

Ephidel watched him walk out the door with a cold gaze. 'It would be best if he did not dote on his son so, but…'

☆

[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.