#it used to be fun and life giving to be around these people and now it is so exhausting and seriously alarming in many ways
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planetpedri · 1 day ago
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hiiii, please can you do something with pau cubarsi where the reader accompanies him to the ballon dor awards and it’s super sweet xxx
Heavy focus — Pau Cubarsí.
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Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader.
Summary: It was Pau’s first Ballon D’or, and he had successfully gotten you to agree to go (not that it took that much convincing). You had never been so proud in your life, and he was just happy you were there with him.
Word count: 470+
Disclaimer/s: Allll fluff !!
A/N: I’m nauseous, I tried to search for a specific pic of him there but why did like. nobody fucking post pics of him there ???
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The black dress felt far too tight on you. Maybe it was your nerves or it was just tight, either way, you were uncomfortable. You had agreed to go with Pau when he asked without hesitation, but you seemed to have forgotten that you would have to spend hours in the dress you’d boughten. Not to mention, the heels? They were digging onto the soles of your feet the more you walked.
But! All that aside, it was an amazing experience. You’d arrived, walked the carpet with him and his family, taken pictures, and it all went smoothly.
Pau was a bundle of jittery nerves, he couldn’t keep a smile off his face at all times, except for maybe when he asked how you were doing.
The whole night, he’d turned to you every ten to twenty minutes to ask, “are you alright?” or “are you having fun?” oh, and your favorite, “you’ll tell me if you need a break, right?”
Each time, you gave him a reassuring smile, and if you could, a quick squeeze of the hand. Pau would smile back, a hint of relief on his face every time. When he could, he would give you a quick peck. Whether that was on the lips, cheek, forehead, or just anywhere on your head and face in general.
When Lamine won an award, you glanced at Pau, your lips forming a pout at how adorable he looked. He held not jealousy or envy toward his friend, just adoration. Pau was always so proud of his teammates, and it was very clear in his expression just how proud he felt.
You wore the same expression the whole night, but it wasn’t just for all the other players, it was especially for Pau. Your boyfriend. Your stomach hurt with how proud you were of him and how far he had come. He was all you could focus on the whole night, in fact.
Leaning over, after the awards were over and everyone began to leave, you whisper in Pau’s ear. “I’m so proud of you.” He glanced down at you, his ears turning a light shade of maroon.
“I didn’t win anything?” He chuckles, standing up and lending you a hand.
You shrug, “that doesn’t mean anything. You still made it here, thats a big accomplishment. I’m proud of you, always.”
Using the grip he had on your hand, he pulls you closer to him. “Thank you.” He cheeses, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips, which you greet happily. “I love you.”
“Of course.” You hum against his lips. “And, I love you too.” You pull back with a grin, “now, i’m sure you have people to meander around and talk with, yeah?”
Pau sighs, tangling his fingers through yours. “Unfortunately, you are right.”
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likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts for Pau or for any specific people i write for in general.
DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !
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loveaurapearl · 1 day ago
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Wild Life SMP connections to Alice in Wonderland
To say Wild life is crazy would be an understatement. It's a fun, silly, chaotic series and I love it. But something I wanted to analyze it was it's connections to Alice in Wonderland. Now... I'm not the first person to make this connection. I'm sure there are tons of people talking to their friends about it or at least thinking about it, but I wanted to put more thought into the connection.
I first have to make people understand why people make think this season is connected to Alice in Wonderland in the first place. The first reference was obvious, the shrinking and growing mechanic of session one and the randomized food of session 2 being a reference to how Alice could shrink and grow by eating mushrooms. Sure Alice didn't eat dirt to fly, but the Mad Hatter and Marchhair were able to eat their silverware and Alice could float thanks to her dress. Secondly, the wild mechanic itself. Wonderland is a world where anything can happen at any time. Where laws have no meaning and to try and understand Wonderland with logic will only hurt your brian. So a world where each session changes the rules of the world is the closest thing a Minecraft server can be to a Wonderland world. Thridly, the life Series itself somehow matches Alice of Human Sacrifice. Link to Animatic that showed everyone this connection: Alice of Human Sacrifice || Life Series Winners Animatic. The life series has always been about made up rules that are more suggestions, but thanks to the Watchers, these worlds have been twisted into a death game where only one winner remains. This is just the only season that leaned into the Wonderland aspects.
(Note: I'm actually NOT that well versed on Alice in Wonderland. I don't know all the characters and I don't know them that well. I only watched the original animated Disney movie, so if I'm missing any connections, please let me know. I just want to make a discussion.) Now, I will only be using 5 characters in this analysis... mostly because I want this to fit in the post and I don't know Alice in Wonderland that well. Anyway, here are the characters. Alice, the Red and White Queen, a little bit about the Red King, the Catapillar, and finally, the Mad Hatter. (Note: the most I got to say will be the Red and Queen segments and the Grand finale, the Mad Hatter.)
First off, who's Alice? Well... whoever the winner of this season is. Alice in the Life series is always the winner, but what kind Alice they are depends on who wins. There's a reason why I referenced Alice of Human Sacrifice, because it doesn't matter who exactly Alice is. I'm just here to connect the other characters of Alice in Wonderland to the lifers because that's more interesting.
The first one I want to discuss the Queen of Hearts and White Queen. Miss 'Off with their heads' and the other one. (Sorry White Queen, but there's a reason the Red Queen is remembered more.) Now, one might want to give the Queen of Hearts role to Pearl and the White Queen to Gem, after all, Pearl is becoming 5' am Pearl again. It's easy to say the one turning Red is the Queen of Hearts. But the thing is, I think it's the other way around. The Queen of Hearts controls the other people through fear and tactics. She is never questioned and controls the people through an iron fist. Pearl... while her teammates trust her and thanks to session three their relationships have become stronger so she's not alone, but they still aren't fully trusting of her. In fact, none of the other lifers see Pearl as a leader, as someone that they should follow. Sure, they don't want to be on her bad side, but she does not control them. Gem, on the other hand, is in full control over a vast majority of the server. Skizz is on her side, the Tuff Guys are on her side, and Renwood Mound is on her side, Scar is still technically family to Gem and Joel, and Gem has a secret alliance with Lizzie. Sure the other Spanners haven't made full alliances with them yet, and Jimmy has been trying to kill Joel all of session 3, but if I would guess to say who controls the server right now, I'd say Gem? And why does everyone, even guys who are on Red, don't attack her? Because they're terrified of her. She killed so many people in Secret life and it's a shield to her. So, if Gem wants someone to lose their head, it's easy for the other lifers to follow her command, after all, they don't want her to do the same to them.
Now, Joel isn't the Red King of Alice. Yes he is the Red King of Last Life, but that has nothing to do with Alice in Wonderland. The Red King in Alice is a Wimp and while Joel is trying to be nicer, he's not a whimp. I don't know who the Red King is, but I'm 90% sure he's not a lifer and I have no idea what character in Alice Joel would be.
The Catapillar would be Scott, they're just cool dudes who know a lot of things and are smart... I... I just wanted to add this in because Scott is the closest thing to the Catapillar and I thought it was neat and I feel like they fit each other's vibs.
Anyway, the final character I wanted to talk about, and the main reason I made this post in the first place. The Mad Hatter. The goofy, carefree man with a hat...and the Character I'm connecting it to is Scar. It's... just Goodtimeswithscar. From the moment I saw Scar's skin, I thought... hey doesn't he look kind of like the mad Hatter. Okay, he doesn't actually look like him, but it was the first thing that came to my mind other than, omg, Scar's skin is amazing. Scar is a whimsical man who loves Disney, so I couldn't help but connect him to a Disney character based off of Alice in Wonderland, and with Scar's hat, it made it easy to connect which character Scar would be. Scar is a silly, man who does silly things like the Mad Hatter. You could say the Bamboozler's campsite is like the Mad Hatter's tea area. But then... Scar saw red and... he's... he's not doing good. Scar's on Red and he's out for blood. So... Scar's no longer the Mad Hatter right? Because being Red would undo all the connections Scar had to the Mad Hatter, right? Well... no. Because there's a Dark Side of the Mad Hatter, it's just only explored with the Batman villain with same name, but a connection is a connection. After all, there's a reason the Mad Hatter is called the MAD Hatter. Sure, in a lot of adaptations, the Mad Hatter is just a silly guy with his silly hat, but with other adaptations like the Batman villain, we see the full terror that a mad man can be. You sympathize with them, but they're still villains, they still need to be stopped.
Scar... Scar has never been the most sane man. If you saw Scar in the Life Series, you see the full extent of the ruthlessness his mind will go. From trying to extort Ren for the Enchanter by threatening him that he would be the first to go if Scar ever turned Red in Third Life; doing it again to Team Best in Last Life; burning down bases in each season; stealing the Enchanter on multiple occasions, even outside of the life series during Grian's, Joel's, and Scar's 50 hours in HARDCORE challenge run; blowing up a ton of people in Limited life while on Yellow, trying to destroy the Mycelium resistance and making an evil lazer (go rewatch season 7 of Hermitcraft, Scar was the villain despite his denial of the situation), eating BDubs, Etho, Doc, and VintageBeef during season 5 of Hermitcraft (No. I'm being serious. Scar and Cub ate the NHO during season 5. Go watch Scar's season 5 of Hermitcraft, it's amazing for the Convex.), and his Villain arc in Secret life. Secret life was the most notable because he tried so to be nice and hinged during Secret season before the Secret Keeper decided to make him the Villain. As Skizz said to Scar when Scar confessed he was trying his best to be hinged, "THIS YOU BEING HINGED?" Scar isn't a mentally stable man. Grian said it best, "I'M STUCK ON A MOUNTAIN WITH A MADMAN!"
Scar is a madman. He's crazy and dangerous when he wants to be... but Scar also tries his best to be the best version of himself. To be nice, and kind, and sweet. It's why Scar didn't see himself as the Villain of Season 7 even while he was making evil lasers that drilled into the Eath to find the Mycelium Resistance's base. And even then he still denied he was a Villain until after the war was over.
Scar is the perfect depiction of both sides of what the Mad Hatter is. He's silly, he's whimsical, and charming. But he's also dangerous, vicious, and cruel. Not only that, but he's a Hatter. In Season 8, he made a hat factory for everyone. Scar is LITERALLY a Mad Hatter.
So yeah, I just wanted to give my thoughts. Hope you like them, and if you have any other lifers you want to connect to Alice in Wonderland and Wild life, make your own post. It'll be fun.
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danidrabbles · 2 hours ago
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I've been in a real reading mood lately and it made me SO excited to revisit this. Miranda, we've messaged about this before, but I wanted to give it the proper reblog it deserves!!!! (This got a little long. I'd apologize, but as a writer myself I know (hope) it's fun)
Because Dieter and ex-wife!Reader are on my mind all the time. I really like reading about people meeting, but love reading about people and knowing there's history between them, it makes things so bittersweet. Especially with these two because the love is there; you make it so efficiently evident in their "Do you want the truth or a lie?" conversation, and when they admit they think about each other, when Dieter says “I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.” 🥺 It's a quick interaction, but it says so much about them.
As someone who was once a teenager with a crush on David Duchovny, Reader's meeting with Dustin is soooooo satisfying. The way he describes the production of the movie
"Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”
made me laugh out loud.
The interactions between Dieter and Dustin are so fun, too. Their snarking back and forth while discovering they might not be so different after all... You manage to build so much tension between them and Reader in their conversation with her by the door. But then you also pack in gut punches like, “You don’t know. You don’t know me.” “That’s not true.” “Yeah it is. I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.” and “You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this.” OOF. ouch! It’s all walking that line between fun, comedy and sexy so well.
The smut is so good Miranda... Even on a reread I’m sitting here like 😳
Having Dustin between Reader’s legs, having so much fun with her, while she and Dieter kiss, and the way it goes back and forth between the sensations of something new (Dustin) and something familiar (Dieter) is sooooooo fantastic, I love how you kind of juxtaposed them without ever making one feel less involved in the threesome than the other. Also so good for her (reader insert me) to have her little You used to masturbate to this man. Revelation!!!! (and her getting to say it to him later was so… soft?)
I’m obsessed with the fact that you went there with Dieter and Dustin, too. Like not that I didn’t expect that of you, it’s just that M/M/F threesomes can often be... more on the M/F/M/ side, you know what I mean? When they kissed, when Dustin made Dieter suck on his fingers (As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. Damn…) when Reader lays back and tells Dieter “I want to see what you’re like with men,” and they just. went for it. LOVED it.
There’s so much I want to comment on, but instead I’ll give you some passages that made my heart ache…
You know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you. 
That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life. 
Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.
“I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”
It’s so beautiful and so bittersweet. It’s so good 😭 
And some lines that made… other places ache…
Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity.
“He wants you so bad. Look—” You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”
“Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”
Your Dustin is lowkey a fucking menace, jesus... Which genuinely surprised me so much!!!! But also the You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. made me laugh so hard.
THE ENDING IS SO FUN??? It’s so creative and I love the promise of more between these three. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). made me giggle.
Miranda, this was so fantastic. I said it before but I love the way you work in all these emotions so seamlessly, while never losing any of the sincerity in the process, it's so admirable. Your word choices, your analogies and metaphors, the way you picked such an unconventional relationship for this and made it work... You're an amazing writer, I am in awe of you, and I love this story so much!
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three's company
pairing: dieter bravo x ex-wife!reader x dustin mulray rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: smut, pinv, protected sex, oral (female receiving) *inserts good for her meme*, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, light voyeurism, talk and use of drugs and alcohol (weed & wine), the weirdest situationship you ever did see, a bit of angst, jealousy, fingering, dubious consent (but like, only a tiny bit dubious. the tiniest bit) word count: 16.k+ (don't ask me what happened there) summary: The world is slowly descending into madness all around you, so you decide to give in and go with Dieter to his latest poor decision: a franchise movie filming in England. One night while there, you both sweep another into this odd half-hearted, life-long tryst you've got. a/n: i don't know how i got here but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i could dedicate this to a lot of things but mostly i'm going to dedicate it the red shoe diaries. thanks to david and the horny '90s. also to maria (@sweetly-yours-and-mine) who has spent countless nights working through this with me. you are a gem
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
“Facetime isn’t the same as real people.”
“Those are bad movies, Bravo. I’m not sure I want to be around those who make them for that long.”
“I know.”
“Actors have never been my favorite company.”
“I know.”
“And I just don’t want to go.”
“I know.”
“I’ll learn to stop answering your calls one day, you know? And then you’ll do everything alone, even a global disaster.”
“I knew you’d give in. That's my girl.”
——
The hotel is a converted English Manor - the very stuff of childhood fairytales and honeymoon daydreams with its Italianate architecture and technicolor green grass. It is warm, inviting, with high ceilings and the soft, consistent hum of human activity as workers scurry around to greet the incoming guests. They filter you in through white plastic tents and stick cotton swabs up your nose before giving you the WIFI password and a room with a stunning view of their expansive, manicured grounds. You don’t have any grounds to look in America, and your studio apartment has been eerily quiet as of late. The pulse of life has stopped in Los Angeles, but here it comes back with an unvarying rhythm.
You don’t like to admit it, but Dieter was right: you are not above loneliness.
The room they give you feels anachronistic, too modern and beige, but cozy in the way all four star hotels aim to be. You’ve got a television, a pristine bathroom that hosts a bathtub and a shower, and enough floor space to move around without stubbing any toes. There’s ample furniture too: a reading chair by the large window, the queen bed, and another chair by the door, which looks like it’s meant only for bags and the stray suit jacket. They’ve given you decorative pillows and instructions not to leave for two weeks - not for any reason.
You lay out on the queen bed and Facetime Dieter. The irony of the situation is too good not to tease him for.
“I know,” he gruffs, picking up your call immediately.
You can’t help but laugh at the misery that drips from his voice. “I’ve always been better at being alone. I think it was you who didn’t want to be alone.”
He runs a hand through his unruly hair and frowns. Even if you won’t take it, you like the idea that he’s only a long walk away now. You give in and shuck off your winner’s ego. “It’s only two weeks,” you assure kindly.
“If I’m good, do you think I can earn a sleepover?” There’s mischief in his eyes, flirtation thick on his tongue. You look askance at him and the dimple in his cheek deepens. “I’m only kidding of course.”
“Ha ha,” you deadpan.
“It’ll be nice after two weeks,” he promises. You know that tone, far off and introspective. It’s not good.
“Just Facetime me when you’re losing your mind.”
“You don’t want that. I’ll be on the phone with you all the time.”
You stare down at the phone, frowning. He smiles, coming back to his body. “I’ll be alright, kid. I always am.”
“Two weeks is not so long.”
“No,” he agrees quietly.
——
Two weeks is a prison sentence.
The room they put you in, while spacious, is merely a cell block now, reduced down to its most basic elements: the bathroom with the shower and the tub, which you’ve used so much it's a miracle your skin hasn’t fallen right off; the bedroom area, with the reading chair by the window; the queen bed, which you stopped making after day four and try your damndest not to fall in before 3pm. You’ve paced the floor so many times, feeling the angry itch of loneliness coupled with a newfound, perpetually lurking anxiety.
“One more day,” he reminds you over the telephone, trying to allay your fears. You hear the sound of his tub running in the background, over the static of his voice, and you wonder what he looks like right now. You picture two week’s more worth of beard growth, the slouch of his back as he sits on the edge of the tub, the pudge of his stomach, and the inciting trail of hair below his belly button. And his naked self. At home he was perpetually nude, and you imagine it’s no different now.
You find your own reflection in the mirror over the sink: sunken eyes, with bags underneath and your flesh taking on a slightly gray cast, the color of isolation.The window sun doesn’t seem to be helping much. You frown self consciously, but try to remind yourself he must be in a state himself; he stopped Facetiming you a week ago, opting for the good ol’ telephone call at least once or twice a day since.
“I’m going out of my mind,” you say as you continue to look at yourself. You lower your voice, vulnerability shared in a hushed, confessional tone. You imagine Dieter again: with that soft concentrated look that pulls his eyebrows together, the one that enhances the lines between them. They called him a curious child and now he’s got the lines to show for it. He told you that. The thought makes you smile at yourself, but you still look so tired.
“Just one day,” he supplies again. He sounds vaguely apologetic.
“I know,” you tell him simply.
“What have you been up to today?” he asks. You hear water come to a stop and a gentle splash follows it. He’s gotten in. “Anything fun?”
“I read, watched a movie. You?”
“I got high and jerked off. So, you know, nothing different than the past thirteen days that you’ve called.”
You scan your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next words. It isn’t a good idea, but nothing is. “What did you think about?” you ask.
“Lots of things.”
He tells you this as casually as if you’ve asked him his name. You are so achingly lonely and this is so embarrassing, but you can’t help it. You know he’ll let you. Hell, he’s probably been waiting weeks for this. Years.
“Do you ever think about me?”
There’s a short, considerate pause. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”
“A lie.” You worry your lip between your teeth.
“Oh, never.”
You laugh, relieved. “I thought you were going to say something different.”
“Hm,” he hums, “I don’t think that’s the truth. I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Mine too. She thinks inviting you was a terrible idea but she wants you to know she’s thinking of you.”
“Mine hates you.”
He grunts. “Suppose I deserve that, don't I?”
“I think this is the first time in history that you diverted phone sex with talk like that.”
“I’m getting older, wiser,” he jokes. Then, “Do you think of me?”
“Do you want a lie or the truth?”
He considers it for a moment. “The truth. Hit me with it hard, baby.”
“Oh, a lot more than I should.”
——
The rapt sound of knuckles against your door incites an excitement in you that you haven’t felt since childhood. You jump from the bed, uncaring of the state of yourself, hungry for the news that awaits on the other side.
A kindly British man tells you that the quarantine has been lifted and that there will be a party and dinner for the cast and crew in a couple of hours. Formal wear is encouraged but not required.mYou spend the next few hours undoing what’s been done by isolation: the bags under your eyes; the unkempt room, with the fetid smell of loneliness wafting over everything; the living out of your suitcase and the wrinkles on your best clothes. You find an iron in the closet and shave your entire body.
Dieter stops by your room while you’re in the middle of getting ready. He sits quietly at the edge of your bed, watching you in the mirror with that dazed look in his eyes. He wears the ugliest goddamn housecoat you’ve ever seen, but he’d smiled so wide at the door that you’ve forgiven him for it.
“You’re excited,” he observes. His fingers fiddle with the sunglasses in his hands. “I thought you hate actors.”
You try to steady your hand as you bring the eyeliner up to your eyelid. “I don’t care what they are, as long as they can hold a conversation,” you mumble.
“I can hold a conversation. Maybe we ought to stay here and celebrate with each other.”
You look at him in the mirror, trying to figure out if he’s serious or not. You can’t tell. “You’re kidding.”
He shrugs. There’s a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s thinking too hard about something.
“Are you high?” you ask him.
“No, but I’m thinking maybe I should be.”
“Cheer up, boy scout. You’re the one who wanted to do this goddamn movie.”
He lets out a defeated sigh and falls back into the mattress with a groan. “I’m going to kill myself.”
———
He doesn’t kill himself, but he looks like he’s still weighing the prospect of it as you take your drink from the bartender.
Dieter suffers no one lightly, and you have a feeling the personable strawberry blonde in front of him isn’t exactly his crowd. You smile over the rim of your drink, enjoying seeing him squirm for once. Everything seems to come easy to him–except this. He’s never been very good at socializing when he doesn’t want to.
“That your boyfriend?”
You turn your head and find Dustin Mulray. You feel a hint of your teenage self come back to you as you look at him, struck wordless. It’s nothing as strong as the love that had you tacking up posters with his face on it to bedroom walls, but something vaguely akin to it. You’re happy to find it manifests itself as a friendly smile instead of love confessions. Perhaps it’s helped by his appearance: In his infinity scarf and beige knitted sweater, he reminds you more of a homely professor than a Hollywood movie star. You think: Movie stars! They’re just like us! while shaking your head in answer.
“No,” you tell him, “He’s my ex-husband.”
“Ah. That’s my ex-wife with him. Marriage is tricky, isn’t it?”
He takes a seat next to you and orders a drink. The bartender sits it on a napkin for him and he turns to you, his blue-green eyes awaiting an answer. You hadn’t thought he would want to talk to you, not really. You’re used to being invisible at events.
“I guess you could say that,” you reply.
“Are you working on the movie?”
You remember what Dieter told you to say if anyone asked: “For legal purposes, yes. Art coordinator #3.”
This amuses him, drawing out a smile. “That title come with pay or would you say it's just an internship?”
“I guess you could call it an internship.” You smile back at him. “Why? You think you could pull some strings and get me a paycheck?”
“I think I’d do you one better and get you a better place of employment. Have you read the script?” This makes you let out a genuine laugh. He brightens, smiling a little wider. “What? It’s the truth! Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean—“ He looks over the crowd, lowering his head closer to yours conspiratorially. “—Not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”
“Ah, I feel you but I can’t quite reach you from here.”
“No, I bet not.”
There’s something simmering in that line. If you didn’t know better, you’d figure it was a light flirtation. Surely not.
“I liked your early stuff better,” you confess.
“Me too. But those were the glory days and now I have alimony and child support to pay. How about him?” he nods in the direction of Dieter. “You get half his ass in court?”
You shake your head. His candor, although surprising, is refreshing. “No, no big payout. We’re amicable.”
He clicks his tongue in awe. “I envy the bastard but I can’t say I didn’t deserve my lot.”
“You haven’t even finished your first drink and you’re already gonna confess your sins?” You raise a curious, teasing eyebrow. He hangs his head and laughs.
“You married an actor. Don’t we all wear our hearts on our sleeves?”
“Mm, not mine,” you shake your head. “It seems he saved his emotions for the silver screen.”
It’s Dustin’s turn to raise his own curious eyebrow.
“How cozy.” You look over your shoulder to see Dieter standing in front of your chair, his fingers reaching out to the back of your chair. He looks…jealous.
“Dustin, this is Dieter,” you introduce them. Dustin sticks his hand out and Dieter plays nice, shaking it with a passing grin.
“Nice to meet you,” Dustin mutters. Dieter nods his head. “Yeah, you too. I was actually coming over here to steal her away for a moment. If she doesn’t mind.” He looks over at you, expectant. There’s a bite to his words you don’t like at all. How fucking rich, you think bitterly, remembering all the times you had to sit by while he shamelessly flirted with half the fucking world.
“She does mind,” you respond. The sharp finality of it makes even Dustin cough awkwardly.
Dieter looks taken aback. “Okay,” he mutters, looking between the two of you. He nods again, as though he’s drawn some conclusion. “Alright.”
You watch as he walks away to the other side of the room. Looking back at Dustin, you give him a rueful grin. “Sorry. And here I was, talking about how amicable we are. Exes of the year.”
He raises his glass. “To us pitiful people and our pitiful crash and burn marriages.”
You clink your glass against his, fighting the urge to cry or kill Dieter. “To us.”
The dinner table arrangement is unforgiving for Dieter. He’s sat next to Dustin at the far end of the table, with yet another red headed actress to his left. Unlike the talkative one, this one is in a state of brooding and continually huffing at everything he says. You’re slightly more lucky, sat at the other end, sandwiched between Dustin's ex-wife and the director.
He watches woefully as you chat with the ex-wife, nodding your head along politely. You were always such a good listener, even with the worst people. He frowns. He had changed his outfit between the party and the dinner, opting for a classier open dress shirt. He had seen the look in your eye when you had opened the door for him earlier, and figured he could use all the help he could get now that he’s undoubtedly pissed you off. He had hoped that they would’ve sat him next to you so you could talk. He’s even wearing that cologne you like. Or used to like. He doesn’t know anymore.
“So, like what—you usually get along with her or…?” Dustin asks him, following his eyeline right to you. Dustin brings the cool champagne they’ve served to his lips, his eyes too burningly curious as he gazes at you.
Dieter tries not to be possessive. He saw it in your eyes, heard it in your tone: that sharp, angry disappointment that you’re so used to delivering him. You don’t like when he gets like that. Not that he has much. This is a relatively new side effect he’s required since the divorce. He shrugs lazily, pushing the sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
This earns him an even laugh. He looks over at the older man, frowning. “What?”
“I see magazines with your face all over it, man. C’mon, we all kiss and tell, even if we don’t want to.”
Dieter bites at the side of his cheek and considers him for a moment. “Look you and your wife-“
“Ex-wife-“
Dieter nods, uncaring. “Sure, your ex wife — you both like to talk a lot.”
“I’m just trying to figure out if I can make a pass at her or not. Make it easy for me. I don’t want to have to suffer this entire shoot because you’ve got some weird shitty thing going on between you. I don’t step on kept grounds….Well, not anymore,” he adds.
“How noble,” Dieter says wryly, “She’s not mine to answer for. Besides, it seems like you were already doing a good job at making a pass earlier.”
He fights down the petulant child inside of him, biting at his lip instead of wearing an all out pout. Through the concealed tint of his sunglasses, his eyes soften at the sight of you across the room. He can almost feel the crack in his heart as he considers the fact that you might have actually liked talking to this man.
Dieter knows one day it’ll come, the moment when you find yourself in a serious relationship with someone else. Most of the time he thinks he’ll be okay — that it will affect him like it must but it won’t ruin him entirely — but sometimes, like right now, he worries he’ll get on his knees and beg you not to do it. You don’t deserve that. He hates himself for the greed he feels, how he can’t ever just let you be happy. He doesn’t want to be like this dick, taking and taking from his ex-wife, all while he noses around and wets his dick in anything that will let him. He never wants to embarrass you like that. Not again. Never again.
Chugging the last bits of his drink, Dieter looks over at the man. Dustin looks back at him, nonplussed. It takes herculean strength to say the next words.
“She doesn’t like men who are crude or too direct, but to be frank, I think you can’t really fuck up with her. She likes you and always has.” Dieter casts a glance in your direction again, feeling mischievous. He smirks, letting himself have this one. “Well, since you were last relevant, that is.”
Dustin laughs the burn off, shaking his head. He touches Dieter’s shoulder in a show of faux friendliness. “We’re in the same shitty franchise now, bud, so welcome to the club,” he whispers, just low enough for him to hear.
Dieter raises his empty glass to Dustin with a forced grin. Feeling defeated but comforted by the fact that he’s now got something to separate him from that asshole, he raises his hand to the pretty waitress for another drink. To celebrate.
But he truthfully doubts there will be much to celebrate.
He fucking hates Hollywood.
—-
Truth be told, Dieter didn’t plan on doing this tonight. Getting high. He planned, if he was being honest with himself - and he is trying, at his most introspective more now than ever - to be doing you. Had he invited you on the vacation just to fuck you? No, but ignobility inevitably follows in the tracks of his nobility. It was written between the lines, something you both had hinted at over the past two weeks. But now you’re somewhere else. There's a lot of rooms in this hotel. Maybe you’re in your own. Maybe not. Dustin had looked like he was going to devour you at the bar earlier tonight, so probably, you’re doing him in his room.
Or do you bring men back to your own place now? He doesn’t know.
Dieter would blanch if he wasn’t so high. He sits in the middle of the decorative couch, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, and he tries to imagine a different version of your last phone conversation.
When you asked if he ever thought of you when he touched himself, he’d tell you the truth. Because you like the truth. He’d say: all the time. More than he should. Really a sickening, depressing amount because he misses you, especially lately. New York is a terrible place to be these days; death permeates everything and nothing seems as right as it used to. Even loneliness feels worse, no longer poetic or artistic but just lonely. It's less like Al Pacino on the set of the Godfather and more like Michael Corleone, sitting alone at the empty dining room table. Days stretch on and on, and he’s hungry for life that has halted so he paints terribly, insecure of even hobbies. What else is he supposed to do but play with himself and remember poignantly that he had once been married to a lovely sort of woman who would’ve made it all better, if only he hadn’t fucked it up?
Well, he doesn’t think about that last part so much. It doesn’t really make for good masturbating material.
He wasn’t sure he was going to survive the pandemic before they asked him to do this movie. And of course he asked you along when they had. It’s the only way in the world he could ask for your help: through omission of truths and beating around the bush. He wonders if you might take pity on his soul again and let him crash with you for a while, just to wait the rest of this out together after the movie wraps. If you really are fucking Dustin, it might make things tense but not impossible. He’ll learn to live with it. He’ll have to. What else is he going to do? Go back to this moment in time and stop you?
Perversely he wonders if Dustin is not the first man you’ve fucked since the divorce. You’re not his last but he wishes you were a lot. It’s been nearly two years and he’s forgotten what you feel like, what you taste like. It’s miserable. When he touches himself and thinks of you, you’re like an apparition, some Franksteinian woman built of fragmented, hazy memories. All he remembers was that the last time wasn’t nice and that you didn’t cum. He couldn’t make you, something about you being too sad or too angry. It was a shame, because he’d always imagined the two of you would’ve gone out with a bang.
This thought makes him smile, but it doesn’t last for long. There's nothing funny about your divorce, not really. He broke your heart tediously, and now you’ve got to tell people that it wasn’t just one thing but many things. He knows that. An unanswered phone call. That waitress in Vegas who he flirted with so unabashedly your mother thought he was cheating on you - along with half the internet and for a brief moment, yourself too. The apartment in New York he bought and moved into without asking you. That art house opening he missed, the one you’d asked him continually throughout the week to set time aside for. So many things—the seven sins and just a few more to top it off.
He wasn’t really surprised when you had asked him for a divorce over lunch one day. You didn’t even live together at the time - the New York apartment became more permanent than he had originally planned for - and you looked so tired, like you were drained of life, overwrought and quiet. What surprised him was the fact that you hadn’t done it sooner. The knowing that you had tried against hope was not an easy one for him to reconcile with for a long time after that. Even in that moment you had developed a sort of halting lisp as you pushed the statement out, as though your own body protested it. He remembers that better than the sex.
You had waited for him to get better and he never did, so you both took your chicken salads with a side of failed marriage that day, and now here you are. Dieter sighs, feeling the familiar pangs of remorse.
“Whatever drugs you’re on must not be very good because you look miserable.”
Dieter lifts his head off the back of the loveseat, straining his eyes to make out the shape that’s hovering in his doorway. His brain catches up with him before his eyes do, and the distinct mumbling voice of the figure comes to him. Dustin.
Shaking his head, Dieter laughs, relieved. “I was thinking.”
Dustin takes this as an invitation to cross the corridor. As he comes closer, Dieter finds he’s in more casual clothes - perhaps even sleepwear - clutching a bottle of wine in his hand. If this is a peace offering, Dieter will take the olive branch. He’s so goddamn pleased you’re not fucking this guy, he might even kiss him.
“You want a joint?” he asks him, straightening on the couch. Suddenly it’s not so hard to be magnanimous, not with the sheer euphoria of you not having betrayed him (is he allowed to call it that? Probably not, but there’s no word quite so apt). He feels he might even be smiling, but he can’t be sure. He hopes so.
“God, please,” Dustin groans. He sits the bottle of wine on the table and rubs his hands together eagerly as Dieter lights the one he’s been puffing away at.
“I figured you were the one with the goods,” Dustin says around a cloud of smoke. He looks over at the open door, nodding at it. “We should close that, huh?”
Dieter shrugs. He thought he had closed the door, truthfully. “Probably should. I think I saw a kid here,” he says. Neither of them get up.
Dustin passes the joint to Dieter. He takes another hit when he gets it because fuck it, this is a celebration. “What, she didn’t want you?” he can’t help but ask.
Dustin laughs mutedly. “I don’t know. I figured by the way you reacted at dinner that I better not try. And there's that thing with my wife.” He shrugs. “I’m always fucking that one up. I thought I should just wander around and see where the night takes me.”
Dieter rests his head back against the couch again, nodding sympathetically. “Mm, I understand. Me too.”
“What’d you do?”
“The better question would be what didn’t I do.”
“Did you cheat?”
Dieter turns his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t fuck anyone else while we were together but she said I might as well as have. And I guess she’s whose opinion really matters, isn’t it?”
Dustin mumbles an agreement. “I fucked a lot of people,” he confesses. “Even the divorce lawyer.”
“And she still talks to you?” Dieter asks.
“We’ve got a kid.”
“That’s right. She told me that, because she likes to talk.”
“Hey don’t be a dick. Yours does too, you know? That’s what women like to do—talk. And they like to be listened to.”
Dieter narrows his eyes. “Is that what you were doing at the bar? Talking?”
Dustin nods. “Yeah. Listening, too.”
“I listened.”
“But you didn’t like what you heard.”
Dustin says this more as a statement than a question. Dieter looks back to the ceiling and pinches his eyes closed, too high. “Mm,” he mumbles. “I’m just so happy she isn’t fucking you right now. I really thought she would be there for a second and it was making me sick.”
Dustin huffs out a laugh. “I take it you never shared?”
“What do you mean ‘shared’?” Dieter asks. “Like wife swapping? No. We seemed to have left the practice in the sixties.”
“Not necessarily. Threesomes?”
“Have you done that?”
Dustin shrugs, smiling unashamedly. “Before we got married, of course,” he tells Dieter. Then, “And a little after too.”
Even with the high, Dieter can’t help but feel curious about the arrangement. “With men?”
“Sure. It wouldn’t have been fair with just women. That was the rules, anyway. Why? You’ve never been with a man?”
“A few. That’s not what strikes me as odd. You just didn’t strike me as the type.”
“I wouldn’t say I was, but fair is fair. And it can be nice. Interesting.”
Dieter rolls his eyes. “Gay sex is gay sex, no matter how you cut it. If you’re about to tell me it doesn’t count, I’m gonna laugh.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just like there to be a girl there too.”
The information weighs heavily on Dieter’s drug induced state of mind. He finds himself beginning to laugh. “Wait a minute, are you trying to talk me into a threesome? Is that what this is? Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? That’s what the wine is about, isn’t it?” He points to the bottle in question, and everything suddenly seems much too funny.
Dustin begins laughing too. “No! The wine was for something. I just couldn’t figure out what”
Dieter ignores him. “Your…your wife hates me,” he manages to hiccup out, “And mine? She—“ She hates me too. This thought makes the laughing come to a slow halt. That’s right. She hates him too.
“I bet she’d do it,” Dustin supplies, soft chuckles still emitting from him. “They can surprise you like that sometimes.”
Dieter shakes his head, his smile more soft, almost sad. “Not with me. I pissed her off. I was thinking I’d try with that waitress downstairs but she’s young and I’ll for sure hate myself for that later.”
“Don’t do that. Your wife really will hate you for that,” Dustin advises. “Take it from an expert. Just call her. Apologize.”
Dieter shakes his head. “That won’t work. It’ll just make her more mad when she realizes I’m high.”
Dustin considers this. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s go to her room. Do it in person.”
“You can’t go,” Dieter tells him evenly. It’s not often he’s the voice of reason — even less so when he’s high — and this dynamic is beginning to make him feel out of sorts. He wants to shut his eyes and sleep this off, but naturally — because he is who he is — he will follow this train of thought through with Dustin.
“Why not?” Dustin smiles widely, catching his stride in the conversation. He speaks more animatedly, bringing his hands into the mix for emphasis. “She doesn’t want to fight with you in front of me! And she can see we’ve made friends. That’s progress! She’ll like that.”
Dieter considers this. He does want to show you he’s sorry — really.
“You just want to fuck her,” he says to Dustin. He’s too high to be angry, even if he really wanted to be, but he is suspicious.
When Dustin doesn’t respond to that, Dieter narrows his eyes. “You do!” he accuses, acutely horrified by the idea.
Dustin looks at him, a smile playing across his lips. “C’mon, aren’t you a little curious to see what it’d be like?”
“No. And besides, even if I was, I don’t think she would. She’s not…I don’t know, I don't know how to explain it.” Dieter pinches up his face, stuck for the right words. “She’s not a prude by any means, but I don’t think she would.”
“Would you? If she did?”
Dieter doesn’t consider the question, only beats around it. “She wouldn’t. I know her.”
He watches as Dustin rises from the couch. “Let’s just go ask her.”
Dieter jumps up, feeling sobriety sneak up on him. “No!” he says, horrified.
But Dustin has snatched up his bottle of wine and began to make his way out into the corridor before Dieter can stop him.
So crumbles the olive branch.
—-
When you see Dustin standing at your door, holding up a bottle of wine with a goofy grin, you think it's a sign from the Heavens above. No more Dieter, that’s what it tells you. He’s ruined your life for a decade now and it’s a cause you’ve got to accept is a lost one. A new man is here and you’re lonely, and you didn’t even have to go search this one out. You smile, open the door a little wider.
But then you see Dieter shuffling down the corridor, brown eyes blown wide. Dustin looks over at him with a grin and you realize with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t what you imagined it was. You don’t know what it is, to be exact, but you’re sure it’s not right.
They look up to no good, with glazed eyes and Dustin’s too wide grin. You close your door just a smidge when Dieter shoulders to the front. He smiles apologetically, and you instinctively hold out a hand to keep him steady. But he’s steady, in no risk of tumbling forward. He puts his hands over yours before you quickly take it away. He looks stung but you don’t care.
“Hey kid,” he says sheepishly. His eyes seem to be asking you something - saying something - but you’ve long lost that way of communicating. You frown, slumping against the doorway.
“Make friends?” you ask, nodding back to Dustin.
Dustin nods his head, unaware or — more likely — too high to be aware. “He’s being a good boy,” he vouches.
“I’ve been good,” Dieter echoes. He tries another grin and that easy charm of his, but none of it works. You fold your arms over your chest.
“Listen, I’m a little tired and—“
“I’m sorry. I know what I did earlier was shitty. I don’t know why I do things like that. Don’t shut me out. Please.” Dieter pouts. The sincerity of his words punches you in the gut, and makes you angrier somehow. Like it’s mocking, even though you know it’s not. He seems to sense this and he continues talking. “I know I don’t own you like that. I had no right. None at all. And I’ve been meaning to say it to you all night. And I know you’re thinking ‘this prick is high.’ I am. I’m really high, and I can’t deny it, but I’m sorry too. I was sorry even before I got high. That’s why I got high.”
Dustin giggles behind Dieter. You look over, feeling pangs of annoyance for him too. Now that he’s not your knight in shining armor he’s just some asshole in kahoots with this asshole. “That’s terrible,” he huffs out. Dieter glares at him over his shoulder before you’ve got the chance.
“I’m sorry,” Dieter tells you again, pleadingly. You shake your head.
“You’re always sorry. That was always the problem.”
“I know! God, I know.”
“Ask her if she wants some weed,” Dustin whispers.
“And I suppose you smuggled that in?” you ask, straightening yourself up. You feel motherly, glowering at him like this. You want to wring his neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed fuck you, make you feel eternal and sexy. But no. Now you’re so matronly, standing there in your PJs, frowning so hard wrinkles are mapping their permanent home in the places your face creases.
He nods guiltily. “But you knew that! I’ve talked about it all week.”
“Yeah but—“ you wave your hands in the air. “It all adds up with you. It’s..”
“The little things,” he finishes sadly. “I know.”
“Why do you know so little if you know so much?”
Dustin coughs suggestively behind Dieter and Dieter turns around swiftly. “No,” he tells him sharply.
You furrow your eyebrows. “No, what?”
Dieter shakes his head dismissively and Dustin shrugs, looking around aimlessly. He’s trying hard to contain a laugh or a grin, you can tell. You hate that Dieter is making you a bitch in front of him. You could be fucking him for God’s sake, but you’re just annoyed.
“Go to bed,” you tell them.
“Well that’s the idea,” Dustin counters, his lips drawing upwards. Dieter looks pallid.
“It wasn’t,” he tells you. “I swear. I came here to stop him from asking!”
“Asking what?” you say, exasperated.
“For a threesome,” Dustin says simply, like it’s nothing at all. “Though I can see now that’s probably not in the cards. And it wasn’t really asking for one, just a hypothetical.”
You look over to Dieter. He looks down at the floor, like a kid in trouble. “Dieter,” you scold.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to ask. I told him—I said you wouldn’t. I didn’t even want to suggest it,” he mumbles helplessly. “That’s not what this was supposed to be at all, kid. I swear. I just wanted to say sorry and…I don’t know.”
You don’t know whether to believe him or not. “But you talked about it?”
“Hm?” Dieter raises an eyebrow.
“The threesome? You were talking about having one?”
“Yeah, but not like—it wasn’t locker room talk. Not really. He just started talking about it and asked if you would and I said no—“
“How do you know I would say no?” you huff. “You don’t know. You don’t know me.”
Dieter frowns. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah it is,” you nod. “I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.”
“I never thought of you like that.”
“Well, still, yes,” you say, feeling angry and stung and in a desperate need to prove him wrong and spite him all in one go. It’s such an ugly feeling and it’s not right, but you can tell the words take him by surprise.
“Yes?…” he asks. “Listen, I get that you’re angry, but you don’t have to do this.”
“No I want to,” you say. “If that’s what you want, what he wants, I want it too. If that’s what you’ve come for, then you’ll get it.”
He shakes his head. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking straight. You’re…being mean. And you’re only going to piss yourself off more, I think, and then you’re going to be mad at me because I drove you to it.”
You shake your head. “No. I think I’m being quite nice. I’m standing here telling you I want you to fuck me. I want him to watch. I want him to fuck me and you to watch. Whatever perverse things you cooked up together, let’s do them. If you’re going to make me mad, then I’m asking that you have the decency to fuck me too.”
Dieter struggles to compute the information. You do too. You hate him. You love him. You are so high strung and pissed and you’d do anything to be touched. Let him prove himself, goddamnit, or let him be damned jealous. Either way, you get fucked. Everyone's a winner or only you are. You don’t give a shit.
Dustin seems altogether pleased by this, clapping a hand onto Dieter’s shoulder. “I told him you might surprise him.”
“Mm hm,” you hum. You do not break eye contact with Dieter. He nods his head, resolving to trust you—or to go along with it. It doesn’t matter, just so long as he doesn’t question it.
When he steps forward, you put your hand up, blocking him. “First the weed.”
He lets out a soft sigh and stays put for a second, looking as though he wants to say something more. He’s wise enough not to in the end.
As he rounds the corner, heading back to his room, you finally glance back up at Dustin. He smiles softly. “You don’t have to do this,” he tells you. “I really was just to get some fire under his ass. I mean, I’m not against it, but if you’re just doing it because you’re pissed—“
You cut him off with a hard look. “I want to,” you say resolutely. “And I am pissed. So be it. Men start wars for less.” You shrug. He looks amused and you feel something arise in you, up alongside the anger — arousal. Desire. Something. He smiles handsomely. The grayish scruff on his cheeks bodes well with his aged features.
You do want to fuck him. That’s freeing information. Propping the door open wider with the kick of your foot, you nod him in. “C’mon. Get in here before I change my mind.”
The dichotomy between his laughter and the intensity of the fight you just had with Dieter makes you smile despite yourself.
“Wouldn’t want that,” he responds with a wink.
He brushes past you with his body and you fight the urge to suck in a shallow breath at the sudden casual contact. As he moves into the room, he pulls you away from the door with him, gripping at your shoulders. He doesn’t let you stay back and wait for Dieter like some lost puppy.
You look at him, eyes wide, and he hands you the wine in his hand. He is so unserious that it’d be plain endearing if it hadn’t been a source of annoyance a moment before. You watch as he wets his lips and looks down at yours. There seems to be a pregnant pause, eyes searching yours for an answer to an invisible question. You think of Dieter, of all the sex you’ve not had since the divorce, and how hurt he seemed when you pulled back from his touch. You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this. You heed your mother’s warning too late and you kiss Dustin hard on the mouth. He takes some of your grief with a practiced tongue, kissing you deeply until you’re interrupted by a cough in the corner a few blurry moments later.
Dustin smiles, holding your face between his hands. “The weed,” he remarks. Dieter nods. He looks a little hurt, a little angry, a little betrayed—looks like he’s always made you feel, and you are not surprised it doesn’t make you feel any better.
You love him. You fool.
You shake Dustin off and Dieter hands you the joint with a forced grin. “It’s strong,” he warns softly as he lights the end. As you inhale, Dustin comes to stand behind you. Dieter’s eyes watch as his arms snake around you. He plants wet kisses alongside your neck and Dieter worries his bottom lip between his teeth.
Dieter reaches out to you, touches the wrist you’ve risen to put the joint in your mouth. His calloused fingers try to reach across burned bridges and you aid him, handing the joint back and reaching out to him too. His baggy sleep shirt is easy to take between your fingers. He takes a hit and then comes closer to you, pressing into you.
When he kisses you for the first time, you think of an ouroboros. Whole and eternal, destruction and rebirth. Your mother hates him when she once loved him. He knows your birthday and the way you like your coffee in the morning. You don’t know what he did yesterday. He doesn’t know your friend’s old cat died and that you’d been to two weddings before COVID hit. He tastes familiar and feels strange against you, unreal and vivid. You open your mouth and he slides in his tongue. The kiss isn’t like the one with Dustin; he does not explore you as much as he remembers you.
Dustin and Dieter pass the joint between them. When you feel the loss of warmth behind you, you turn curiously, detaching from Dieter’s lips. Dustin goes to abandon the joint on the table by the bed and Dieter’s hot mouth presses kisses alongside your neck. You wrap your fingers in his hair and you can't help but moan when he tongues alongside your jaw. Dustin’s eyes spark with delight at the sound.
You look down at the wine bottle still in your hand and hold it up. Dustin takes it from you, grinning. “I forgot to tell you it was my gift. I’ll open it. It’s good, aged to perfection,” he comments.
He searches your bedside for a glass and finds a crystal one beside the water vase that they gave you earlier that week. He looks down at the bottle in his hand and frowns. “Fuck, I forgot the wine opener.”
“Call the desk,” Dieter says against your skin.
You turn your head back and begin kissing him again, humming an agreement against his lips. Dustin shuffles behind you as you return completely to Dieter, your lips ghosting over his. He licks into your mouth and grasps at the back of your neck, keeping you attached to him as you begin the dance backwards to the bed.
The weed gives you a cloudy feeling, enhancing the warmth of his fingers and lips on your skin, but erasing any inhibition that would make you embarrassed to be doing it in front of another man. You like the idea of it, actually, that there’s some stranger - albeit a familiar one - standing somewhere in the room as Dieter’s fingers lift up your sleep shirt and dip beneath the hem of your underwear. Your ass presses against the edge of the bed and you feel his erection against your thigh. You moan carelessly, tugging at his hair, and he exhales into you, the line between pleasure and pain thin and delicate as he rushes to do what he’s afraid Dustin will get to first if he doesn’t.
Dustin hangs up the phone and looks at the two of you on the bed, a surge of desire filling him as he watches. You’ve got your legs open and Dieter’s got his hands down your underwear and he can see it all from this angle. You’re making delicious, breathy moans and Dieter’s arm muscles flex as he works them out of you. There’s a wet spot on your underwear and he wants nothing more than for Dieter to take them off so he can see more of you.
He watches a while longer, captivated by what makes you tick and what kind of a lover Dieter is. It's kinda like hotel porn that he’s had on repeat the past few days, but live. Before he can get out the request for Dieter to take your underwear off, or wait for the inevitability of it, there’s a knock on the door. He rushes to answer it, holding the door open only enough to take the glasses and the bottle opener. He mumbles a quick thanks before shutting the door on the confused worker.
Dieter enters you with a thick finger and you let out a loud uninhibited moan around his kiss. As Dustin attempts to open the wine he smiles, thinking of the young man who was just outside the door. He likes that you aren’t afraid; he’s always found that attractive in women.
“Here,” he says, pouring the pinkish liquid into three separate glasses. Neither of you look at him, so he repeats it again, this time with more command in his tone. You look so thoroughly kissed when you look up, red lipped and swollen, that it makes him ache, and Dieter’s wild haired annoyance is charming in its own way. He hands you both a glass and you take it with a shy smile. Dieter is less pleased, but takes it anyway with a soft ‘Thanks.’
Dustin watches as Dieter wipes your slick from his fingers with a pang of envy, swallowing down the wine. This isn’t something he’s made a habit of doing often— watching people fuck, threesomes — but he had felt that it wouldn’t have been right to do without Dieter. Truthfully, he had had every intention of going to your room by himself before he had peered into Dieter’s open door. The sight of him sitting there, staring up at the ceiling like he had been doing, inspired sympathy. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about that with Dieter, but what he’s learned over the years about sex is that some little white lies must be told sometimes.
A part of him feels guilty, knowing his own ex-wife lies somewhere in this hotel, probably brewing in her own anger. But he’s leaving her alone. That’s what she asked of him, isn’t it?
“So, any rules?” he asks, abandoning this train of thought before it crashes.
Dieter unwraps himself from you, sitting on the edge of the bed like you are, and shrugs his shoulders. You both look at each other. Dustin feels like an outsider, intruding on something too big and personal, but he doesn’t mind. A bit of self-flagellation mixed in with pleasure was always how he did his sex best, and there’s nothing quite like sleeping with two people very much in love during a pandemic.
“Dieter said you’ve never done this before,” he says, looking at you. “Is that true?”
You nod your head. “What do you mean by ‘rules?’”
“Well, I guess it’s a bit different because no one is with anyone here, but sometimes there will be requests people make to ensure no one gets their feelings hurt. For instance, you might not want me to cum inside of you or enter you at all. They’re for safety too—consent, boundaries.”
“I see.” You look down at your glass of wine, thinking. “I don’t really have any rules. Maybe just use condoms.”
“Are you sure?” Dieter whispers, tugging at your shirt sleeve. He leans in closer, says something Dustin can’t hear. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care if you do that,” you tell him. He seems surprised by your answer.
Dustin can’t help himself. “What’d you ask?”
Dieter shrugs his shoulders. “Just about how she feels about us.”
“Do you have any rules?” he asks.
“Don’t cum in her first.”
You look at Dieter quizzically and all he provides is a shrug that says nothing. Dustin nods his head. “That seems easy enough: condoms, don’t cum first.” He swallows down the rest of his wine and sets the glass aside.
You twirl the liquid around in your own glass, smiling faintly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna do this,” you say.
“Me either,” Dieter replies. He sits his glass, half finished, on the nightstand.
“I’m feeling high,” is your next sentence. Dieter seems to grimace.
“You’re in the wrong state of mind,” he tells you.
You shake your head. “No. I made up my mind before I got high. I want to be fucked,” you tell him, voice plain and even. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m sure I’ll be okay with just him.”
Dieter shakes his head adamantly, cheeks beginning to red. “I—I do want to. I always want to. I just want to make sure you’re not doing something you’re going to regret later.”
With a smile, you tell him teasingly, “I won’t regret it later. Not if you do it right.” You offer him a teasing wink that draws out his dimple. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss on your lips, too romantic and sweet to be good for your soul.
You decide then that this will have to be less Dieter focused if you want to last. “Lay on the bed,” you say to him. He nods his head, prying off his house shoes. You look over to Dustin, who stands awkwardly at the head of the bed. He smiles again with that charming Hollywood grin that age hasn’t dimmed in the slightest, and you grin back. “I want to kiss you again,” you tell him directly.
“That can be arranged,” he says, dipping onto the bed.
Dieter lies back against the heap of pillows at the headboard, his knees spread apart to make a spot for you. Dustin guides you there slowly, his body pressing into yours until there’s nowhere left to go but into Dieter. He kisses you deeply, hands strong and warm and unfamiliar in an entirely exciting way as they bunch up the fabric of your sleep shirt and expand over your skin.
Dieter doesn’t touch you, even though he badly wants to. Part of it is heartbreak and disbelief, and the other part is erotic fascination—watching you come apart like this, at another angle, is undeniably doing something to him. You are so pliable under Dustin, so easy for him, like you’ve waited your entire life to be like this. Maybe you have. Maybe he never paid enough attention—maybe in all your thousand little, subtle ways you had once alluded that you’d like to be this way. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, he could’ve made more rules, one like ‘Don’t enter her at all’ and ‘Don’t kiss him like that because I know once upon a time you kissed me like that and I screwed it up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better husband. I’ll be a better friend, just don’t kiss him like that.’
But then again maybe not. That’s a mouthful and you’re high and he’s high. Maybe it would be just like this. It’s just that he loves you. It’s an odd kind of love, but it’s real. Dustin has his tongue down your throat, his exploratory fingers beneath the fabric of a sleep shirt, but Dieter loves you. The fool.
Blissfully you are unaware of the pity party Dieter throws for himself behind you. He is a body, a springboard for desire and heat, as you surrender yourself to lust the way you never really have before. You do draw up some comparisons, unable to help yourself.
Dustin is grittier, all command and surrender. He is an electric taste of the illicit, some faraway fantasy made palpable. Dieter is your ground zero, vivid and stormy. He is what yesterday was. You read somewhere once that when you have a child with a man, their genes have the ability to change your own. Though you and Dieter have no children, you feel like something irrevocable like that happened — that you carry a part of him in your genetic makeup. It doesn’t make Dustin worse for it. In fact, it makes him better, an exotic vaccine into your very tired bloodstream. You deserve it. You deserve it so much, and you practically beg for it, mewling as Dustin kisses his way down.
“I bet you taste like heaven,” he mumbles warmly into your skin, licking a teasing strip over your midriff. You watch, mouth agape, heart beating wildly in your chest. Dieter tilts your chin up, directing your attention towards him, feeling impossibly greedy now. He kisses you languidly, tonguing lolling gently against yours, making it lasts forever. Your mind is in a haze, the slow, sensual turn of your tongues lighting a fire in your belly as Dustin uses his own on you. He trails lower and lower, warm and wet, fingers drawing down your underwear and then—
“Fuck,” you say, gasping out the word. You surprise yourself. Dieter captures the word in his mouth and groans in soft appreciation. You glance down your body, your knees hanging loosely over Dustin’s shoulders, watching his warm tongue pressing against your clit. It’s a sight to behold, the way his pink tongue flattens over you. His large hands grip onto your legs, holding you apart as your back presses into Dieter’s front. You feel his semi-erection nudge into your back.
Dustin spends his time with you, teasing you lightly with his tongue at first, learning the careful intricacies of your body. As you run your hands through his unruly bed hair, the tip of his tongue dips into your opening experimentally. He looks up to you, blue-green eyes searching for approval. You buck against his face, desperate, full of want and drugs and something indescribable but undeniably exciting. Ambition. Want. Joy. You used to masturbate to this man. His nose grazes against your clit and he laughs as you struggle. It is warm and bubbly, and you feel it all the way down to your bones.
You tug his hair so hard that he sends another noise vibrating through you: a low, half pained, half aroused groan.
Dustin brings his mouth back to your clit, grazes it gently with his teeth. “Oh,” you say, your head drawing backward, falling into Dieter’s shoulder. He watches you, his dark eyes fixed. He presses his lips onto yours like time hasn’t changed anything. You bask in it, give yourself over to the fantasy with the ease he’s offering it—you kiss like lovers, familiar and intimate, an unformidable duo in sex where you weren’t in marriage.
Dieter doesn’t leave your lips as he says, “I never got to see this sort of thing from this point of view. You’re so goddamn pretty.”
His hands tease up your sides, fingers drawing closer to your chest. “Is he making you soaked? Just like I used to?” he asks, his voice a low drawl. You arch up, bringing your lips up to his. He slots his mouth over yours, pressing into you roughly as his fingers find a pebbled nipple through the cloth of your night shirt. As he scraps over the top of it with the pad of his thumb, you draw your eyes closed. The heady scent of Dieter surrounding you mixed with the intoxicating feel of Dustin pressed against your cunt is almost too much to bear. Almost. You moan against Dieter’s lips again as Dustin’s tongue works you, and Dieter smiles, nodding. “Oh baby, he’s gonna be like me. A pitiful, helpless fool for you. Aren’t you?” he says, looking down the valley of your body to the other man.
Dustin grunts wordlessly against you and your hips fail you again, pressing up into the vibration. Sensing this isn’t the end of lack of control, Dustin presses a hand against them, pinning you down. As he licks you open, spreads your folds with the warmth of his eager tongue, you feel on fire, the sensation reaching every part of your body. He’s good at that. He’s lapping and lapping, his strong nose meeting your clit at just the right time each time he comes up.
“He’s so fucking good,” you say helplessly, uncaring of who hears. The drugs make you uninhibited, looser. You meet Dustin’s eyes as he takes your clit into his mouth again. He is sucking lightly and you try to roll your hips into him, but he presses down, a silent no. “Fuck, you’re so—good at that. Oh my god.”
Dieter pinches your nipple between his fingers, humming softly at the sight before him. “You’re gonna make me jealous, baby.”
Dustin’s mouth grows more focused, intent. You feel your orgasm drawing up, coming closer and closer. You open your eyes, blown wide with desire, and focus on Dieter. He kisses you softly again, bringing his hand up to your other breast. Dustin sucks your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and your hardened nipple scraps against the warmth of Dieter’s palm. It's all so right. You cum then, toes curling into the sheets, body going rigid beneath the touch of them both. Dustin doesn’t stop; he laps up your want greedily and Dieter draws up his head to watch. His eyes darken, full of desire and what you assume is a begrudging respect.
After you’ve ridden out your orgasm on Dustin, Dieter huffs out a soft laugh. “He wants to fuck you,” he tells you, thumb swiping affectionately across your cheek. Dustin, unable to let that one go, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and muffles a laugh against your skin.
“Bravo, you’re so jealous it’s making you stupid. She knows that,” he says, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Of course she knows that.”
“M’not jealous,” Dieter denies evenly. When he looks down at you, brown eyes too kind, you half believe him.
You break the eye contact and smile appreciatively down at the man between your legs. A finger you’d locked in his hair now swipes across the bottom of his shiny lips. He takes it into his mouth, wetting the pad, and you say, “You aren’t a very good team. I think it’s important to be a good team.”
Dieter places a hand on your arm, more of a phantom touch than a grip, but you know it’s a stroke of possessiveness. You glance back up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Dieter likes men,” you tell Dustin, not looking away from Dieter. “He’s not playing nice now and I think it’s a shame because I bet you taste just like me right now. And I know—“ your gaze drops down to Dustin, your voice velvet “—how much this dearest ex-husband of mine likes the taste of me. Have you ever kissed another man, Dustin?”
Dustin bites at your bait, smirk growing wide as his body stalking up yours. “Of course. I looked like a God in the ‘90s. Everyone wanted me and I wanted everyone,” he jokes, his warm hands flattening against your torso. His legs rest behind your thighs as he sits upwards, and you can see the tent of his erection against his sleep shorts. The black of them does little to conceal the full outline, and you thrill at the idea that he’s probably not wearing any underwear beneath the fabric.
You’re not one for getting starstruck - not anymore, anyway, a Los Angeles resident for years and the ex-wife of a star - but the fact that you used to masturbate to this man in front of you is something you still can’t shake. It occupies your mind, the way you had rewinded scenes from his raunchy, made for tv erotica over and over. Even now, many years later, you can still picture it: his younger frame pressed behind a blond woman, fucking into her in haste, his hands all over her and his thrusts rough. It was incredible to you back then, placed in some seedy location like an alley. Public and animalistic—the stuff of paperback romance novels. You remember the way he tugged her shirt upwards, how in the heat of the moment he grasped at any part of her he could get. A black bra and a long skirt, the bra pushed askew, going higher and higher with each thrust, and the skirt gripped onto, used for leverage as he pushed into her from behind. The VHS that hosted the scene had been passed from friend to friend in your college days, until someone’s VCR had eaten it. You feel a bit excited to know you’ve got the real thing right here. You think about telling him.
But it’s not about you, not now; it’s about Dieter. You widen your legs, make room for the ‘90s heart throb to slip between your body and come closer to the man you’ve dedicated your life to. In this moment you can admit as much. Dieter’s got his cock pressed against your back, and you know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you.
Dieter stiffens as Dustin presses closer and closer to him. You shift to accommodate them, moving your body up, guiding Dieter along. He holds you close like a shield but doesn’t protest when Dustin’s lips press into his.
Dustin tastes of earthy vineyards and you—like sweetened strawberry wine and the familiar palette of tangy and acidic that’s blessed Dieter’s tongue many times over. That’s it, he thinks with a smile against Dustin’s generous lips. That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life.
He plunges his tongue so deeply into Dustin’s mouth, it threatens to gag them both. But it doesn’t. They’ve both got their party tricks, after all. Dieter’s kiss grows hungry and suddenly there’s no space between any of you. You are a perfectly molded puzzle, fingers on skin, in hair, tongues swiping against lips and chests, and there are deep guttural moans exposing what the erections do well to show.
You know Dieter wants this, can feel his evident excitement press into your back. You happily welcome the warmth of Dustin’s firm body pressing impossibly close to yours. Dieter wets his bottom lip and squeezes you reassuringly, a habit from other life slipping into this new one.
You alternate kissing one another, creating a new taste on your warm, eager tongues. It is perfect. Dustin’s hands gingerly fumble over your chest, not focused or intent but curious, and Dieter’s allow it. The possessiveness has translated into something entirely more agreeable, and these men work together like lovers.
Your fingers grip at Dustin’s muscular shoulders, trail lower and lower over the slope of his chest down to the dip above his shorts. The path is slow and arduous to your lust riddled brain. He grunts against your collarbone, his hot breath fanning over you, and you go lower still, taking the shorts with you.
Dieter’s eyes trail the same place yours do, his chin tucked into your neck; you share the same view of Dustin: the red weeping head of his cock as it bops against his toned stomach, eager to be touched and licked and surrounded. Dustin sighs hotly against you as you press against him - against it - and Dieter swipes his tongue behind your ear. It is heaven, the way Dieter and Dustin feel against you, combined like this. You want them both. You need them.
You wrap your hands in Dieter’s curls, let him support your body as it rubs frantically over Dustin’s. Dieter peppers kisses alongside your neck and whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. God, I was so fucking lucky—“
The rest of it is lost against the shell of your earlobe. Some things - even the kindest, most genuine things - are better left unsaid.
Dustin emits soft, urgent moans as his cock catches between your bodies. The tempo of your shared thrusts grows quick, more focused, and he is close, on the very brink of letting go. You knit your brows, watch curiously and excitedly as he draws closer. You think of it: A hot spurt, just for you. Dieter holds up your sleep shirt, seeming to expect the same.
But then Dustin stops, his thick fingers rough and tight against your skin as he stills your movements. In the morning you’ll be bruised, a thought that thrills you. “Not yet,” is what he says in explanation, leaning his forehead against yours.
Dieter laughs softly, some terrible joke about bad endurance dying before it rises to be heard. He’s on his best behavior. Dustin tastes of you, of him, and you’re all naked and you’re so happy, so pliant. You lean against him like he’s someone you can lean on, and he swallows the serenity of that thought silently. Dieter is a half guilt, a perpetual bleeding heart, and you are his salvation. He knows it doesn’t work like that, can’t, but sex is not about what is real and logical. That’s why you were always so fucking good at it; it was beyond the both of you, and somehow a language you spoke best together.
He should feel worse about Dustin. Perhaps it’s because you want it so bad, or maybe it’s because he’s so horny, but the inclusion of him feels less intrusive than before. This is not your marriage bed - it’s been lost to the cruel seas of time - but it feels like a union, and Dustin plays a curious part. Not the voyeuristic onlooker, but the active participant, his glistening cock hot and heavy against your beautiful stomach. It should make Dieter sick. It did, thirty minutes ago. But now it makes him hard, wets his mouth. The bastard is good looking.
What can he say - you have always had good taste.
You turn your head and lick into Dieter’s mouth, redirecting your attention. He turns you between their bodies, pressing you into him as he kisses you feverishly. Dustin assists him, holding you against his body like Dieter had been doing before, only upwards. Dieter draws back and lifts the cotton sleep shirt over your head. He takes advantage like Dustin hadn’t been smart enough to, wetting your nipple with his warm mouth and tweaking the other between his fingers. You squirm, pressing your hot cunt against his stomach. He feels too clothed suddenly, having been denied contact because layers. You help him take off his shirt and Dustin helps you take off his pants. You waste no time wrapping your hot hand around him and tugging loosely.
His mouth finds your nipple again and you wrap your fingers into his unruly hair, jerking him off slowly as he kisses and sucks at your bare chest. He knows you’re already dripping, seen it on Dustin’s glossy lips when he got done with you, but this is his body remembering you and he can't stop. He remembers the way you got when he licked at you like you were the last scraps of his final meal on earth. How desperate and needy you became, just as desperate and needy as him. His hand travels down your stomach, straight down to your cunt, and he palms the wet heat of you into his hand. Dieter relishes the way you gasp into his mouth as the heel of his hand finds your clit, a smirk on his lips and a sentence like, “That’s it, baby,” coming out against you.
He fingers your entrance teasingly and finds you devastatingly wet. This is heaven, he thinks, the wet stickiness of you on the pad of his finger and your hot breath on his lips. You dig your nails into his shoulder, shut your eyes against the sensation of one of his fingers entering you. Dieter is ground zero. In your Garden of Eden, Dieter was there, at once Adam and the serpent. This is the apple. How delicious it is to be fucked, how perfectly human. Of course they’d turn on God for this. Cover up with leaves and be terrified of the whole earth later. Bleed and cry. Divorce. Whatever. This is worth turning back on perfection for. Poor Eve. Poor you.
You rub yourself against his hand and Dustin takes one of your breasts into his hand, watching. Dieter is so focused on the squelch of your juices and the way his finger - fingers now, two, and you stretch so perfectly for him - enters you that he doesn’t even mind. You’re no pissing contest, he sees that now—you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He swallows your moans and tries his best not to cum. Your grasp on his cock is so loose and it’d be so embarrassing to cum on your stomach when the tugs are nothing, and besides this is about you. So he focuses on trying not to.
“Condom,” you mutter, your lips landing on the side of Dieter’s mouth. Dieter nods his head but doesn’t pull back from you. He watches, enchanted, as your hips move against his hand. He can feel your orgasm build in the way you clench around his fingers, the penultimate pressure too much to bear. When you come, its with a shudder, your body tight and rigid above his as you ride it out. Dieter is so high and so in love with you, and he’s so sick about it that all he can do is laugh earnestly, even though what he wants is to ask you to marry him again.
Dustin is touching you all over with his hands, palming your perfect breasts, and you’re arching farther and farther back. Dieter can hardly bear the sight—not because of the jealousy—but because he’s deathly afraid this is it for him. You’re the best thing he’s ever had, and he knows he can’t think that way. You had a good run—you’re great friends now—but God, you married him in Vegas and you used to sketch his nose with careful affection onto canvases you kept for yourself. Who’s gonna sit in your studio now? Who’s gonna take up space in your heart, make you smile over the canvas as you work? He would weep if you didn’t look so pretty and sated, leaning into Dustin the way you are.
He kisses you hard on the mouth just to get rid of the thoughts, and then he kisses Dustin too, grabbing roughly at the back of his hair the way he hasn’t ever with you. It’s not kind, but Dustin doesn’t seem to mind; he moans gruffly, absorbing nothing but the desire behind it.
Your hands explore Dieter’s exposed skin as they kiss, warm and gentle, unconsciously fingering the scar he got as a child. You know the map of this body. When his hard cock bops against his stomach you take it in your hand again. Before he has time to think, you put him in your mouth.
“Fuck,” he mumbles against Dustin’s lips. They stop kissing, looking between them at the sight of you. Dustin is so considerate, so much better than Dieter has ever been. He moves aside your hair, kisses against the curve of your spine. All Dieter can do is think about not cumming. He feels bad about this, wishes he could gather enough strength to think about your hair and things like that. But your mouth is warm and you take him in with expertise, bobbing in a rhythm he wouldn't dare break. Up, down, the tip of your tongue running alongside a vein, back up again. He’ll cum like this. You look up at him through your eyelashes and he touches the top of your head with unspeakable tenderness. Cum, you beckon, but he won’t. Can’t.
Where is that goddamn condom? How can he make this last forever?
He pulls back from your lips smiling an apologetic grin when you at him, surprised. You seem to understand, a devilish little smirk playing across your glossy lips. He wants to kiss you, but even that feels dangerous right now. He thumbs your lips instead.
“Condoms,” he tells you softly. You nod your head.
“In my bag.” You point over to the corner of the room. Dieter pads off to get them.
Dustin’s hands sneak between your thighs and you sigh when he finds your entrance, the tip of a finger rubbing the spot Dieter abandoned. You’re so wet and you want it so badly. He presses his lips against your shoulder and you feel the heat of his breath against your goose pimpled flesh. As you loll your head against him, he slides a finger in. You scratch the back of his head and nod frantically.
“You’re so tight.” He nips your skin and then licks at you with a desperation you’ve only experienced in Dieter. You like being wanted this badly. You lift your hips and ride his finger, squeezing around him. So tight, right. He laughs and you feel that too. “You like being talked dirty to, don’t you? You’re being so good, riding my finger like this. I can’t wait to fuck you. To feel you around my cock like this. And I bet he’s thinking that too.”
You both look over to Dieter as he unwraps a found foil and takes out the condom. You sigh; Dustin’s thumb finds your swollen clit. “We’ve got to make him cum in you, but I don’t think you’ll find that hard. He wants you so bad. Look—“ You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”
Dieter strokes himself through the protective sleeve as he watches the two of you. You feel the familiar sensation of heat spreading low in your belly. When Dustin dares to enter another finger into you, you gasp, feeling full and stretched and yet not full enough. He spreads his fingers inside you, preparing you. You tug at his hair and make eye contact with Dieter.
He smiles lopsidedly, suddenly boyish and more handsome than he’s ever been. You think he looks happy for you—so pleased that you’re pleased, with a glint in his eye. Maybe it’s the drugs. You don’t know. Maybe he is happy that you’re happy. He was always better at saying he loved you than he was at showing it, but you suspect that this is his showing you. Love. Maybe it spills over in divorce, just another cruel thing you’ve got to cope with.
When Dieter comes back, he presses a condom into Dustin’s thigh. You are at the edge of another orgasm, everything perfectly in place — the sensation of Dustin’s thumb, the way his breath hits your skin, the idea that Dieter is watching you—but he denies you it, interrupting. You go to protest, whine, but he doesn’t give you a chance.
Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity. You squeeze Dieter’s shoulder. The other condom package falls loosely onto the bed as Dustin uses his hand to keep you steady, your knees weak from the pleasure.
You tug at Dieter’s hair to make him stop. Dustin seems to know instinctively, leaving you feeling empty when he takes his fingers away. His slick covered fingers rest on your hips as you tell them both, breathlessly, “I can’t do another one. It’s too much.”
Dieter shakes his head in protest but Dustin takes the information in stride. He’s too good at this, moves through the motions with ease, improvising quickly. He extends his slicked fingers to Dieter. Dieter, who has been so focused on you, looks at them quizzically, unsure of what they mean. Then he seems to get it, hard features smoothing out in realization.
He looks at Dustin, and it’s not like with you. He's focused, not icy or angry but so intent. It’s not a loveless gaze, per se, but it is devoid of love; filled not with something warm but something hot.
Dustin’s cock presses into the small of your back. As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. You bite at your lip. You’ve never seen Dieter with men before, and this new side of him excites you—like unlocking a new door in a house you’ve had for ages. He puts on a show for you, bobbing like you did on him. Dustin’s fingers seem to be an extension of yourself. You shudder as Dieter tongues along them, and Dustin rubs himself helplessly against your backside.
“I want to see what you’re like with men,” you say to Dieter, your voice barely a whisper. But Dieter hears you and his eyebrows perk in interest. This is a long unanswered question to something you’ve never been brave enough to ask. You’ve always known that he’s been interested in men — that he’s had sex with them — but you’ve never really questioned outright about what it was like. It felt equal parts too personal and hurtful; you didn’t want to know what it was like with other people before you. But everything seems different tonight. You want to know badly, like he’s got secrets that could be your salvation hidden in him.
You slip from between them, lying against the pillows. Before filling the space, Dieter looks over at you. His brown eyes implore you for a sign and you nod your head.
He’d asked you earlier, when Dustin asked about rules, if you’d be alright with them touching each other, maybe even entering one another. You hadn’t expected it to get to that, so it had been easy to say you didn’t mind. In fact, you had figured Dieter only said it as a means to scare you away from the idea. And now that the notion is not only on the horizon, but a reality, it comes just as easy to say yes—maybe even more so.
He stalls, hesitating, so you nod again, laughing. He smiles. Your ex-husband is a startlingly beautiful man like this, looking so openly vulnerable. He’s physically and emotionally naked and you’ve waited decades for it.
Dieter and Dustin kiss each other like men do, aggressive and dominating, neither willing to lose the good fight just yet. You feel your interest piqued, watching the way their fingers touch each other. How they tug and grip, search for purchase all over. Dieter is much rougher with Dustin than he’s ever chanced to be with you, with bruising kisses and bruising touches. When he grabs the man’s cock, it is with an ugly dedication, fast dry and quick tugs. Dustin hisses the first time but doesn’t protest. In fact, he thrusts his hips unashamedly into Dieter’s closed fist, licking into his mouth with a degree of delight. They tug at the back of each other’s heads of hair and eventually Dieter gives way, falling back to allow Dustin to mount him.
Dustin searches for the condom on the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to grasp at long denied air. You watch through heavy lids as he slides the latex onto himself. He’s circumcised, pink and swollen at the tip. Drips of pre-cum have made him all glossy and you bite your lip watching him struggle to line himself up. When he gets the latex down to his base, he smiles a satisfied smirk. He doesn’t look at you. If he notices you staring, he doesn’t mind at all. This is his favorite play, and he’s an actor after all.
Dieter’s knees knock apart to accommodate his frame—a body you’ve begun to notice with quiet admiration in your desire. He’s broad, much broader than he’d been in his youth, and he’s got muscle all over now, whereas before he’d been lean and lanky. He’s hard and tight and as he begins to rub himself against Dieter, you’re taken with the way his skin stretches over the plains of his back, his arms, his stomach. Dustin is in impeccable shape, perhaps one of the only men who can claim he’s doing better now than he was in his youth. Gone is the boyishness, replaced with a heady, sure masculinity.
Dieter seems to relinquish his fight happily now, soft growls emitting from his lips. Dustin presses down into him, and while most of what they’re doing is obscured by Dieter’s legs, you can imagine it well enough: the steady, erratic thrusts of Dustin’s cock rubbing against Dieter’s. There’s a sheen of sweat on them both and Dustin buries his head in Dieter’s neck. He licks at the places you had once, and it is nothing but erotic little huffs from them both.
“You’re…” Dustin begins, but falters off. He lifts himself up, repositions, bracketing Dieter’s head between his strong arms. Dieter’s eyes are pressed closed, his dark features etched with pleasure. All they do for a while is rub against each other. You feel like an intruder, like something stopping them from getting where they need to be. Maybe you are.
You dare to speak: “Aren’t you going to touch each other?”
Dieter looks startled. He’s red in the cheeks, the exertion of their movements and the heat of his desire making him flush. He taps Dustin on the arm, making the steady roll of his hips slow until suddenly it’s nothing. It’s all quiet for the first time in minutes.
They both look at you with intent eyes. But Dieter is the first to take charge. “You should fuck her,” he tells Dustin. Dieter looks at you, questioning.
“But—“ you protest. Dieter shakes his head.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Later.”
Dustin has no qualms about the interchanging of you and Dieter. You notice that he's notably gentler with you than he was with him, though. He crawls to you, kisses you chastely—as if testing the waters. There’s nothing necessarily erratic or rough about what he does to you. He looks between your spread legs and fingers at your entrance once more, circling the area teasingly. You groan in anticipation and his head falls to your chest. He takes a taut nipple into his mouth as he plunges his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your front wall. As you sigh heavily, he moves his wet mouth to the other nipple.
You turn your head, catch Dieter’s fixed gaze. He reaches out his hand and you lace your fingers together. He’s touching himself through his condom, stroking softly. You want to devour him.
Dustin takes his fingers from you, and you look back at him. Before you can plead for more he says, “I’m gonna enter you now.” You nod, wordless.
He gathers the slick from his fingers and coats his latex covered cock with it. As you squeeze Dieter’s hand, Dustin lines himself to your entrance. His kiss is soft, barely a kiss at all, and he enters you, inch by careful inch. He feels so overwhelmingly right, snug, puncturing something decidedly primal inside of you when he bottoms out.
“Oh, fuck,” you groan hotly against his shoulder. He manages a small laugh, running his lips against your cheek. “Go hard,” you ask. He hasn’t moved yet, stays still inside of you. You think of the way he was with Dieter.
“I don’t know if I can. I think I’ll…” He swallows. “I know I’ll cum.”
“Please,” you beg. You dig crescent shaped nail marks into ass and he smiles teasingly, running his warm tongue against your sensitive skin. He presses so intimately into you, your nipples scrap against his chest. It feels so good. Everything does.
“He said no,” he answers, looking up to meet your eyes.
“He’ll give me anything I want,” you say. Dieter’s fingers leave yours then, and you look over. You think you’ve made him mad but he’s only repositioning himself, coming closer to your bodies. He doesn’t say anything.
Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Dustin mumbles, finally drawing back. You nod your head, encouraging, but he doesn’t go harder. He moves in the same way he did before, experimental and slow. When you look at him, imploring silently, he shakes his head. “But a rule is a rule, baby. ‘Sides, I think he’s making me get you ready. Your husband is a bit of a pervert. He’s touching himself, watching me stretch you open with my cock.” Dustin presses his lips into yours. Against you, he mumbles, “Did ya know he likes to watch? Bet he likes to hear too. You—“ Dustin pushes back into you, stopping himself, and the squelch of your juices adds to the effect. He smirks. “—You’ll get fucked. Just not by me. Not yet. Maybe I’ll fuck him while he fucks you. Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”
You feel Dieter’s fingers but can’t move your eyes away from Dustin’s. They’re greener like this, up close. Dieter trails a line over your body, and then up to Dustin’s, with a lone finger. Dustin turns to look at him and he smiles, nodding. They seem to work without words.
Dustin reaches down to grip the condom as he pulls out of you. You look over at Dieter, half angry and half amused that he could interrupt. You realize what they’re doing almost immediately. Dieter holds open your legs by pressing his palm against one of your knees, and Dustin shuffles, moving back to let Dieter take his place.
His cock probes against your entrance and he smiles down at you like a fool. “Hey,” he tells you evenly, half sober. You ache for him. You clench around nothing as he licks into your mouth.
“Hey,” you respond, overcome. Your fingers wrap around his arms and you notice that he’s got more muscle than before too.
“You want to be fucked?” Although he attempts to make this a question, it is more of a statement. You nod along anyway. He kisses you hard, rough like with Dustin, and he nearly enters you as he rubs himself greedily against your naked warmth, wetting himself with your slick.
“Yes. Hard, like you do with him,” you tell him. He smiles against your lips. You take his cock in your hand, so much more sure with him than anyone, and he slides into you. It feels like homecoming, wet and warm and familiar, your fingers digging into his skin and the smell of sex in the air. He does what you ask, his thrusts sharp, his hips snapping against your hips.
“Dieter,” you pant out, nodding your head. He kisses the side of your mouth sloppily and you smile the best you can. Where Dustin felt right, Dieter feels perfect. You feel like you touch the hem of eternity as he plunges into you with the intensity you requested, uninhibited and giving in the roughness.
He repositions you both in one expert movement, moving to his knees, pushing your hips farther up. This makes you let out a startled gasp; he hits you far deeper like this, his thumbs digging into the flesh on your hips with bruising intensity. You can’t kiss from this position, but it doesn’t matter. He fucks you. Really fucks you.
You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. He doesn’t even touch himself. This makes you frown.
“D—Dieter,” you stammer out.
“Huh?” he grunts.
“Dustin.”
“Mm, what—what about him?”
“Let him fuck me too. Please.”
Dieter shakes his head. “No, you’re mine right now. You’re—“ he snaps into you roughly, the bed creaking. “I’ll suck him off. Or maybe—“ Dieter grunts again, “Maybe he’ll be smart and he’ll get behind me. And maybe he’ll—“ his head drops to your neck, and your head the next part through mumbles. “Maybe he’ll rub against me like he was doing before. But it doesn’t matter right now. Just think about you. It’s all for you.”
You close your eyes, nodding. That sounds fine. Great. Dieter’s finger gazes at your clit and you nod, your hand reaching out to hold his wrist. You always liked to feel the way his forearm moved as he did this to you.
“Cum for me and I’ll cum for you,” he says, and you feel it begin, the stirrings of another orgasm. You think of him, of the way he punctures his thrusts with grunts, how good he feels inside of you, bottoming out like this with measured fury. You like how rough he’s being, like never before. You like this side of Dieter. You like that there is more of Dieter to know.
When you cum, you call out his name. He swallows it, pressing his lips to yours. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me. You’ve always been.” He fucks faster into you, his own release on the horizon. You squeeze around him once, twice, and that’s it; he’s filling the condom up and he’s gasping earnestly, amazed and so goddamn in love. He kisses you on the mouth and it’s so genuine. You kiss him back, smiling like a newlywed.
“Dustin,” you say against Dieter’s lips, after a moment. Your chests are both heaving and you're drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He presses his forehead against yours and you smile. “Let me take care of him,” you tell him.
Dieter rolls off of you, collapsing into bed with a soft groan and saying nothing. You take a moment to recuperate, breathing in and out, letting the bliss of this moment wash over you.
“Come here,” you say to Dustin, patting the open space of the bed beside you. He listens, the bed dipping beneath his weight. It takes a lot of effort on your part, but you rise to your knees. You guide him onto his back and he helps you straddle him. For a moment, you just sit there on top of him, looking at him.
“I used to masturbate to you,” you finally admit. This makes him grin. Beneath your cunt, his erection jumps a little.
“Thanks,” he says. His hand palms one of your breasts again. “You don’t have to do anything to me. I can finish myself off if you want.”
You shake your head, grinning. “Didn’t you hear me? I used to masturbate to you. This is a dream.”
Another hand comes up to cup your other breasts. “Are you sure you don't feel too sore? He fucked you pretty good.” You begin to glide your cunt alongside his prominent erection. He sucks in a swallow breath. “Guess that’s a no.”
“That’s a no,” you confirm.
“Just let her fuck you,” Dieter tells him quietly. You smile over at him but he doesn’t see it; he’s too busy watching the way you move your hips over Dustin. Even with a flaccid penis and in a state of post-coital peace, you manage to get to him.
You ride Dustin quickly, grabbing onto his strong shoulders as he tongues your alongside chest, finding your nipples. He groans, the sensation vibrating throughout your body as you follow the motion his hands set for you. A fast up and down, your back arching, taking him in completely and then pushing back so far he nearly falls out.
Admittedly he does most of the work, your legs wobbly and your body tired. But it feels good. God, does it feel good. You like this, being with two men back to back, each of them taking turns. Dustin generously tries to get you to cum again, his fingers sliding between your bodies, but you stop him.
“It’s too much. Just this,” you tell him. You grind down on him to make him feel better about it, and he hums sympathetically around a mouthful of your breast.
You ride him less enthusiastically the closer he gets, both of you too tired and worn. He stops aiding you so much, kissing anywhere he can access: your jaw, your neck, the side of your mouth. He lets your body fall forward into his. It’s a sort of lazy fucking that you do, meeting halfway to create the sharp thrusts that push him closer to climax.
“Cum in me,” you tell him, voice silky against his ear. He knows how tired you are, feels it too. He gathers up the last of both of your strengths, rutting up into you with intent. As he cums, you ride him, curious, taking all he can give. Dieter is too sensitive, can’t stand to move when he cums, but Dustin nods, moaning against you. When it’s over, you collapse into him, hugging his sweaty body. He laughs against your warm skin.
“Thank you,” he tells you softly, so only you can hear. You nod. You lie on him like that for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart. Dieter watches you, his expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look faraway.
You reach out to him with your fingers and he smiles, coming to.
Dustin helps you off of him and you fall between them, sated and spent. He slides off his condom and reaches across your body. “You want me to take yours?” he asks Dieter. Dieter, no longer feeling jealous but merely tired, nods. He hands the man his condom and Dustin pads off to the bathroom. Dieter and you watch this, amused.
“I kinda understand what you see in him now,” he confesses, smiling. He interlocks your fingers and you let him.
“Thank you,” you say, ignoring his comment. You look over at him.
He nods, sincere. “Of course. I assume I did it right?”
“You did it right.”
“And you don’t regret it?”
You shake your head. “I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I love you.”
You kiss him chastely, even though you know you shouldn’t. “I know,” you tell him softly. “I love you too.”
“Like a friend?”
“No.”
“Like a husband?” he asks, testing the waters. You laugh. Dustin comes back from the bathroom.
“No. Something more than all of that.”
“I can handle that.”
You nod your head. “Me too,” you tell him.
The bed dips from the weight of Dustin once more, and you roll over to your side, cuddling into him. He passes a warm rag to Dieter and he accepts it, cleaning himself. He goes to hand it to you, but you shake your head.
“I’ll take a shower in a little. When I can walk.”
This earns a laugh from them both. Dustin reaches an arm around you, drawing you closer to his body. Dieter, surprisingly, doesn’t mind this; he curls up behind you, too, wrapping an arm around your waist. You’re all so close, and it’s nice. He thinks maybe they might be something to this sharing after all.
“I liked that,” you say to no one in particular.
Dustin hums, fingering trailing over your arm. “Enough to do it again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I think the opportunity for this kind of thing only happens once in a lifetime, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that. This is Hollywood, and they love sequels,” Dieter adds, smiling.
“Yeah,” Dustin nods, “That’s true.”
You close your eyes, smiling faintly. “A sequel, then, maybe,” you say tiredly.
In the morning, you do not regret any of it.
—-
A YEAR LATER.
SUBJECT: THREE’S COMPANY, BUT ONLY SOMETIMES from: [email protected]
I was at an art show the other day and I saw a painting with your name on it. The guy in it looked a little familiar (they told me it was an old painting, from nearly a decade ago, before you were both famous. Cute). I bought it, of course. Not that I’m in the habit of buying paintings from people I’ve slept with, but it was for charity and it looked good and I’ve got a new apartment that I’ve got to fill, so I thought why not? It cost a lot (good for you!) and because of that they let me wrangle an email address from them to tell you what a brilliant job you did. You did great. Very Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton of you. Anyway, to the point: You weren’t at the premiere of the documentary with Dieter last month. He told me that it's because you don’t like that scene, and I don’t blame you. Neither do I. But I was wondering how you feel about commissioned paintings? And do you think that Dieter would like to come with you to deliver it if your opinion is positive? (He told me I had to ask you that myself, so I think he’d be happy to accompany you if the canvas is too big to carry by yourself). P.S. I’m asking you for sex–a sequel, as it were–but I really would like a painting, too. I’ll spend a lot (not for the sex, but the art. I guess for the sex too, if you’re into that). Love, D. Mulray.
—-
SUBJECT: HOPEFULLY NOT ROSEMARY’S BABY SITUATION to: [email protected], [email protected]
Sometimes I commission art work for people I like and sometimes I make an exception for those I don’t if they pay enough. I’m sure you fall somewhere in those categories, Dustin. But I must warn you: I won’t do dick drawings. I might do a vagina one if the inspiration strikes. I must admit I’ve never had a man ask me for sex over email. Kind of thrilling, like a retro sext but without any of the sexy parts. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). P.S. It will cost you. For tax purposes, I hope you’ll let ‘it’ be the art.
Who said divorce couldn’t be sexy?
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unnaturalequilibrium · 2 days ago
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Capítulo 2 & 3
- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)
Watching the de la Reina siblings is a hoot. It's all so deliciously dysfunctional. Damian's three porcelain dolls, all dressed up and filled with generational trauma. How could that not be fun to watch?! I enjoy that Marta is the action oriented one of them. The boys bicker, but she refuses to play their game, instead tries for a solution and an action forward. It’s notable that both brothers turn to her as if her agreement, her word actually holds sway. They’re already making a point of this being a man’s world, but these men, even if it’s a means to play out each other, hang on her word and give it weight.
I’m kind of sad Jesús is such a right villain, because I enjoy him and Marta together. They play off each other well and you instantly get the nuances between them, making it super easy to envision how things were before Andrés return. The way they’ve kept that business afloat, probably stood side by side against their father on a number of occasions. I feel like they’ve kept each other alert, maybe a bit too guarded, but also with a sense of mutual respect despite all of the other muddled feelings of jealousy and resentment and old-fashioned sibling rivalry. In a world where Jesús wasn't such an evil man I think this could have been one of my favourite relationships on the show, if they'd taken the time to develop it more. Especially in the way she yields to him in the beginning and how her character growth comes into play later on.
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Carmen is the boss you want to have before she’s even anyone’s boss. The way she is straightforward and stands up to Marta for her own and her fellow workers sake and safety. I wish she was my workplace Union rep. She’s such a competent lady and I'd gladly line up behind. But why throw fucking caveman Tasio around her neck like a noose I’ll never understand. Though I’m getting ahead of myself, or ahead of the show at least.
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I mean seriously, what’s up with that opening credit?! Of all the characters, they get a two shot. In bed. The two of them who at this point in time have nothing to tie them together. A flimsy string of connection through fathers, through work. I wasn’t here from the start, but I assume they were shipped from day one? Granted by my arguing maybe Gaspar and Tasio should be shipped too, but at least those two aren't in bed together. And no, don't enlighten me if there are people who do ship them. Some things I'd rather go through life without knowing. This would be one of those.
Lol, Luz is so no-nonsense as she saves Damian's life. “Stop praying and let me stab him with a giant needle, you rich fools!”. Her and Begona sharing the medical field and a bit of empathy with each other is nice too. An ensemble cast that is balanced between men and women seldom leave room for a lot of female friendship, but this one does. I appreciate that.
Fina establishing from the very beginning what she thinks of men, and especially the fool ones like Carmen's deadbeat boyfriend. I feel you. And I am in love with the way she throughout all the episodes to date will be used as a way of voicing what the tired lesbian feminist in all of us wishes she could say, out loud.
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If trolls exist, you know like proper giant ones, the kind that can be mistaken for a mountain, covered in moss and trees and then suddenly just opens its eyes and stands up to stretch. You know the kind of trolls you think of when listening to Grieg's In the Mountain King's Hall - yeah those. I imagine if they existed then they'd sound exactly like a sickly Don Damian, like a melodic stone avalanche. That said I’ve never envision mountain trolls to sound Spanish before now. But maybe that’s on me.
Joaquín is a bit of an ass, calling Fina (and the rest of them) lazy - my eyes are narrowed. It wasn’t actually something he developed when he got on my shitlist by flirting with the secretary while having a cute as a button wife or pointing a gun at Marta. Apparently the assery was a pre-existing condition. It’s interesting though that Luis is the one talking about taking over the company, yet he still comes off as the decent one of them.
“You don’t notice the boys?”- Petra, you blonde little snake, don’t call my Fina out like that. Maybe we're allowed to know she's a lesbian, but don't flaunt it in front of the entire canteen like that. It’s kind of funny though how Fina is so clear about Luis not being her type, yet there are so many common denominators between him and Marta both in personality and in physicality (except of course the most important one in this case, their sex).
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I know he’s supposed to be one of the good guys, but honestly, Andrés is a bit of a douchebag, isn’t he?! Or maybe that's a bit harsh, but he comes across as pretty smarmy. He's like what the wall behind your stove would be if anthropomorphised, kind of greasy, kind of sticky and in constant need of being hosed down. But yay for not letting the roof drop on your employees, I guess.
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prettyoddfever · 10 hours ago
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the "Ryho" mindset is still happening
I didn’t like how part of the fandom treated Ryan during the pre-split years. This might end up being a lengthy explanation but bear with me because it’s relevant to the modern fandom.
So it was a well-known fact in 2006 that Ryan was straightedge/sober (Spencer was too, but he got less attention from the media). Being straightedge kind of became part of Ryan’s image (here’s a random example) and a lot of fans really connected with that. Then Ryan got drunk for the first time at the end of 2006, and we started seeing pictures of him partying with friends in early 2007 before the band even went to the cabin. 
By summer 2007 Ryan was like a completely different person. I get that the drugs & alcohol probably helped him become more outgoing, but I also think he was just becoming way more confident & comfortable as he grew up. And SO many fans seriously hated the change. Fans still randomly criticized the other 3 guys, but that stuff seemed more like the regular small complaints that happen just for the sake of complaining when people are bored (ex: Jon’s beard existing or vanishing). The stuff about Ryan was very different in tone and there were some consistent themes throughout the last half of 2007: Ryan was too in love with Keltie, he dressed like a hippie now, and he partied a lot. Basically, he was changing. He was no longer the same person that he was during the Fever era.
It honestly seemed like many fans were angry at this new version of Ryan for taking the old version away from them, as though they had some sort of ownership. There was tons of drama over the fact that we were seeing lots of pictures of Ryan partying with various friends (some of whom posted detailed stories about their nights or how drunk everyone was). Some fans said Ryan was a hypocrite or a liar and tried to make him out to be an alcoholic, as though he’d personally betrayed them by destroying who he was "supposed" to be.
However, I think most of the complaints were actually rooted in something bigger: Ryan looked happy.
I felt like a lot of the younger fans had latched onto the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who needed to be saved or *understood* or whatever… you know the cliche I mean??  That was the vibe that the media sometimes tried to give him during the Fever era, so even they knew it would sell! But now Ryan was partying a lot with a wide range of friends, was dating Keltie, had completely abandoned his Fever-era aesthetic, and seemed to be closest with Jon in 2007 instead of Brendon. He was “destroying” the static image of Ryan that fangirls had taped onto their bedroom walls.
I remember a decent amount of fans actually admitting that they wished Ryan would go back to being depressed. Like they literally wanted him to be unhappy & unsure of himself because they liked him better that way. Others accepted that Ryan was changing and were happy for him, but still thought his bitter lyrics were better. And then even if other people wouldn’t admit that they were clinging onto an old version of Ryan, their main criticism still seemed to revolve around the fact that Ryan was living his life, having fun, and being different than he was the previous year.
I saved one fan’s post because it summed up some of the complaints this year:
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The nickname “Ryho” really took off in late 2007.
Obviously a ton of fans loved Ryan (and the kids who were bashing him still claimed to love him too). The petty criticism just became annoying to me. People slammed his new clothes, his new hairstyles, the way he carried himself or talked, his weight/body, his “creepy” fingers, and the “girly” things he told Kerrang he liked (pumpkin spice candles, vanilla milkshakes, his puppy, and Titanic). Even the kids who used to love Ryan’s mild arrogance were now holding it against him. A lot of the fans who were criticizing Ryan in the last half of 2007 jumped right back to being his “fans” once the Pretty. Odd. era got going and things were interesting again, but I guess it shouldn’t have been surprising that so many fans were able to easily switch to bashing Ryan once again in spring 2009 when he was changing yet again. It���s like they were so focused on what Ryan wasn’t doing that spring (ex: recording the third Panic album) that they couldn’t see or accept what he was doing: building a whole new life for himself in a completely different music scene with the new crew of friends he’d been hanging out with for a while (Alex Greenwald’s scene).
One of the things that stuck out to me in late spring & summer 2009 was how many fans felt rejected by Ryan (and Jon). Those fans had basically idolized prior versions of Ryan and were hurt to slowly watch him destroy all of that as they realized he didn’t want to be part of the machine of the music scene that the fandom still loved. That hurt translated to them lashing out in anger.
So you know how I mentioned that in 2006 part of the fandom liked the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who wrote bitter lyrics and needed to be *understood * and saved? And they resented Ryan for destroying that concept in 2007 and taking away the Ryan that they loved? They wanted to view him as a static character and couldn’t accept that he’s a constantly-evolving human. This is still happening today. Some fans are still upset that the version of Ryan that they want was taken away (ex: Ryan left the Fever era behind, left Panic behind). Except now instead of resenting Ryan for the choices that he made, some modern fans have rewritten the past to blame external forces like Brendon instead. I've been trying so hard to wrap my mind around this for a while, so here's my take on it... keep in mind that this is just my own observation/guess. Ryan isn't very visible now, so people are free to project a lot onto him. I think that by blaming Brendon (who is the visible one left), people can still happily view Ryan as a helpless victim who needs saving, and never feel rejected or betrayed by his choices... it's like Ryan didn’t actually want to leave them, and could still be the person that they need him to be. Idk I'm still trying to comprehend what happened to the recent fandom tbh.
I'm absolutely not saying that all of Ryan's current fans are like this!! It's just that some little bits I've seen are concerning because they essentially take away Ryan’s agency & erase him. Even on a smaller scale, I've still noticed how some modern fans focus heavily on stories that dramatize Ryan's pain & portray him as a passive victim, regardless of whether those stories conflict with reality. Like why exactly is that angle a priority? Some examples:
Camisado is for dancing
the "funeral picture" isn't real
Lollapalooza was a fun show
June and July are different months
Ryan participated in the stage gay
some of the Ryden stuff could probably qualify too
Keep in mind that I'm saying this as a fan of Ryan. I am genuinely happy to see that he has so many newer fans! But sometimes I'm a little concerned that patterns might be repeating and maybe some people are more focused on their own creation of a character/image than an actual musician who has had many many phases.
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cuteniaarts · 4 months ago
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Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3
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#my art#artists on tumblr#the legend of korra#original character#I need to figure out a way to tag these guys#like with renny and dori I just put sotrl in front of their names and that works#but emran is technically an LaF character. though not uniquely tied to that verse. and idk what to do with Ila and Alasie#maybe I need to have some unique oc tag or smth. I’ll figure it out#if you’re wondering why I stayed up until half past 7 a.m to draw this it’s because I needed some way to cool down#after the kuviren smut absolutely broke my brain#and what better way to do that than by drawing my sweet baby boy?#yes lmao he went from baby girl to baby boy in like 24 hours. fucking sue me#but actually. actually!! they’re both. they contain multitudes :)#they probably haven’t even realised that at this point and are still in disguise#convinced that she’ll be punished for her deceit if anyone found out that she’s actually a girl#(okay off topic but the switching pronouns are really fun lmao)#but give them time. they’ll figure it out soon enough. in these pieces they’re slowly getting used to temple life#and that is the first step to self acceptance#I’m actually extremely proud of these. especially the one with the apple basket. I feel like the androgynous vibes are really there#and he looks like his brother the most in it#but the others are fun too. I loved doing the portrait. I should do them more often#and.. I will admit. I traced the lemur. I can barely draw people okay how do you expect me to draw animals#but I just think that Aiza would really love a little lemur friend#animals don’t judge and she doesn’t have to watch herself around them. she can just be. plus the lemurs are really cute <3#I want to eventually do a companion to this with Aiza instead. maybe from back before she ran away#probably something based on reflection from Mulan too bc the vibes are there. though.. to be completely honest#I’d say they have a lot more of Shurochka Azarova’s vibes than Mulan. but that’s just my love for Soviet cinema taking over#it’s essentially if mulan fought napoleon instead. and when discovered instead of left to die they promoted her to lieutenant 😁#I realise the comparison is completely incomprehensible to everyone but me but.. go watch the hussar ballad. it’s free on YouTube with subs#okay enough rambling. i shall now go to bed. @ Kat I hope this brightens up your morning at least somewhat. I love you!!
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argentinianidiota · 3 days ago
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I also respect yours, I believe in terms of comedy and writing the first two movies are far better than the third and fourth. I saw the Schafrillas video but I felt strongly about the fourth one for a lot of time before that became the bastion of Shrek-4-lovers. I watched that video like 2 years ago by now so sorry if I repeat some of the takes Schafrillas has, it's not intentional.
In a sequel the thing I search for the most is expanding of the concepts or characters, in Shrek 2 we see Shrek changing for Fiona to make her happy instead of the other way around, the first one already closed perfectly but the second movie talks about what we are willing to change because of love, however, the change we see is physical to appease the parents, but Shrek is still Shrek and in both movies he would absolutely prefer living in the swamp only with Fiona, minimal responsibilities and peace of mind.
So then Shrek 3 and 4 happen.
Shrek 3 isn't my favorite, but I wouldn't say it's bad, I believe it is a poorly executed idea of Shrek coming to terms with being a father by putting him together with a young teen, however, Shrek in the first 2 movies isn't afraid of commitment, he was afraid of leaving his peaceful and calm life behind, that's why he went on the mission in the first place, Farquad's law inconvenienced him.
For me, Shrek 3 isn't funny, I believe the frog wedding to be entertaining, and the princess subplot is one of the best on the whole SCU, but it comes as too little too late, the movie drags on with the least interesting characters and a tropey mind-swap between Donkey and Puss. In short, Shrek 3 isn't my type of movie, I prefer other kind of comedy perhaps, I didn't find it funny but entertaining at best and cringey at worst.
Shrek 4 talks about the last plot point the franchise leads to, "What happens after the happily ever after?" I believe this, plus "Shrek isn't really happy with leaving his past self in the past" gives us Shrek 4. Although Rumpelstiltskin isn't the best villain I believe he is better than prince charming and more interesting than Farquaad, he ties perfectly with the story, after all we thought the king and queen just abandoned Fiona to her luck (which they did still).
Shrek being stressed and out of his comfort zone is on character and we have seen him blow up in similar circumstances, the straw that breaks the camel back being the birthday cake, he feels he isn't him, after all that talk about not changing who you are to appease others, he feels his responsibilities and new role changed him, no, changed his life around him, so he has an identity crisis.
To be honest the jokes didnland for me, I believe fat Puss is cute and plot contrivance and all, the flute enchanter (in spanish he was called El Flautista but I don't know how to translate it) was a really original concept and I loved the ogres living in community, now Shrek knows he can do it, it's not essential of an Ogre to live alone like he does.
Shrek 4 takes Shrek to an alternate reality where he didn't exist It's a Wonderful Life style, for me the most important part is the ogres and Fiona not loving him back, it's a better and more profound character analysis of the two and their lives if they didn't know each other. The ogres show shrek he can live in community, and when life changes, you change with it, you can't keep the clock on the same place, it's illogical.
Even with it's shortcomings (the writing felt reslly weird in some places, the jokes were fewer but in my opinion funnier than Shrek 3's) I believe Shrek 4 should be the way you close the SCU.
Also rumpelstiltskin wasnt played straight either imo, he was a better Farquaad, he had all the power in the world and flaunted it to try and stop Shrek before the day passed.
Even then, I know people see Shrek as a fun franchise instead of a deep, interesting franchise, so it's really subjective. Your take is really interesting too and it feels good to talk about Shrek, I didn't mean to sound like you needed to explain yourself, you are entitled to like the movies you like, I love movie Musicals which a lot of people say are lower/worse versions of the original
Rewatching the Shrek movies and I still don’t understand why people think the 4th one is good. I think it might actually be worse then the third one.
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thebirdandhersong · 1 year ago
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well mark that down as situation 2938489 that I don't know how to handle
#i would love advice on this if y'all have any thoughts to share because i know what my parents think and im having trouble sorting it out#i love these three friends of mine but it is really draining to be around them now because all they will talk about is church drama#(re: our old church) and rehashing it all and being Outraged about the horrors etc etc#either that or being downright condescending about protestants/non denominations and acting like it's funny to talk like that all the time#i end up being more angry or resentful or exasperated at the end of our conversations than glad and at peace like i did before#(before all THIS ish happened and the three of them were like okay this is all we're going to talk about now)#i've tried to say in gentle ways (i am simply not capable of this kind of blunt confrontation) that maybe we should not be talking#so uncharitably towards other people especially behind their backs. like. yes bad things happened. we have to acknowledge that.#but continually making jokes and jibes at a priest's expense really rubs me the wrong way especially since i KNOW that he loves us#and in many ways was trying his best in the circumstances. and are we not supposed to be loving our neighbour#and is this not downright slander to keep going on this way esp since it goes on for HOURS at a time#anyway i don't know what to DO because if i keep chatting with them/meeting up with them conversation will be 90% this thing and i Hate It#but on the other hand i feel responsibility towards them because my godson's one of them and another is a friend who is a fairly recent#convert and if i leave them to stew in their own echo chamber i doubt it'll do them good#am i supposed to keep some distance? am i supposed to keep arguing whenever one of them says something unkind or inflammatory?#am i supposed to keep speaking up so that they hear a different perspective? am i supposed to run in the other direction for my own peace o#mind? anyway i am still thinking this over and it stresses me OUT#it used to be fun and life giving to be around these people and now it is so exhausting and seriously alarming in many ways
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icewindandboringhorror · 6 days ago
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It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.
Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.
#BECAUSE I knew I really liked filming and editing things and doing set design and costume design (from having done little bits of that#here and there in media classes and my own stuff - i used to be a lot more into making videos than I am now). BUT I was always thinking#that a movie is WAAY to big and long. even a short film. So I was trying to think of ways I could still like#have the fun of scouting locations to film and dressing up actors and etc. etc. without it having to be a Huge Million Dollar Production#on tv show or movie level. SO then I was thinking about like... just doing commercials. Or music videos. Like shorter things where I still#get the fun of the filming and everything but it's less of an intensive long term project.#So there is an alternate version of me (I suppose if i somehow did not end up having physical and mental health issues#as badly somehow.. or like.. randomly came into wealth and was able to pay my way through a nice college despite missing#days constantly being out because I'm sick or something lol) that works in some corporate advertising office coming up with commercials#and directing or filming them or doing the sets for them or something in that general vicinity.#I also was considering being a corporate psychologist. or whatever its called.. oh from google:#''Industrial and organizational (I/O) psychologists study and assess individual group and organization dynamics in the workplace''#I don't think I even knew what the job entailed. I was at the time just thinking like.. the type of person that comes into a business offic#and gives everyone personality assessments or does MBTI or big-5 testing crap for whatever reason that some businesses get that#done for people. Really i just wanted to be in a Corporate Big Office setting yet still do psychology. Because I used to be really fixated#on living in a big city. Like the ideas of everything being walkable. picking up a coffee in the morning. walking to my job in a Big#Skyscraper Building. people watching in a huge hotel lobby for lunch. flying frequently (I love airplanes and airports aesthetically).#living in an apartment with a giant window overlooking the city. etc. etc. BUT that was before i had really BEEN to a city. Then I actually#hung around a city a few times and went places and I was like... AUGh... The Sensory Overwhelm.. cars people lights loudness noise scary#everything happening all at once. etc. etc. (though even when I wanted to live in a city i NEVER strove for the Night Life. when i say I#enjoy city imagery I mean like... in the day time. Many people who like cities talk about The Night Life and post pictures of cities all#lit up at night and clubs and dancing and restaurants. none of that EVER appealed to me. perhaps a sign I am not a real city person. Like#I am NOT standing in a crowded bar full of loud people in the middle of the night lol.. get AWAY from me!!) but I do adore the#architecture of like bright white clean sterile modern spaces like huge airport lobbies or malls or etc. I think thats what reminded me of#city and what I liked about the idea of that life. Like I always LOVED the layout of schools and hospitals and trainstations and public#transport in general. Though even then I knew enough that I would not be a good architect/city planner. so I guess my adoration for those#spaces was merely to be channeled into LIVING there. but then I realized I didn't even really want to do that that much. I mean I still#definitely aim to live NEAR a city. like the little areas outside of it. I would never live in a rural place 4 hours from anything. I liter#ally just COULDNT since I need close access to hospitals sometimes lol. But I used to want to live in the CENTER of citites like high rise#condo. and now I'm like.... eh....... perhaps a smaller quieter walkable space nearby lol.. ANYWAY.. alternate me in my Business Suit eheh
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blooddrinkingbartender · 2 days ago
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theotherrookie
"Yep, I can never escape the paperwork." Or her mother's scrutiny. This was going to be quite the tale to tell. She turned her attention back to Lucien, taking note of the great care the fae was using despite a bit of obvious awkwardness. "You'd be surprised. Lucien is stubborn, but he isn't wasting that second chance he got. Russell did more for him than probably either of them realizes." The question now was whether this incident would set Lucien back. He was very set in his ways and being shown that he wasn't so safe just minding his business in his shop had to have been as much of a shock as watching someone else try on him what he used to do. "Well, you settled things with me." she corrected, waving the ring around for emphasis. "Lucien might have different ideas about your eyes." She gave a nod once Leofric was done and sent the ring flying. Raw healing magic didn't require her to aim. "Rook, can you do something for Russell? He still isn't fully recovered." Lucien asked, gently pulling at her cape. "Well, I can give him an energy bar. Doctor Birb recommends a nap– Because I'm completely out of everything else."
"If there are three things that are certain in life, it's death, taxes, and paperwork," Antonio said, "Although I suppose taxes fall under paperwork in a sense."
Bill then nodded.
"I suppose I can get that," Bill said, "And to be honest, even if they did know, I doubt they'd acknowledge it. Lucien seems the sort of guy to keep his feelings on the down low, and Russell would probably say something like 'I was just being a decent' person."
"Good to know," Antonio replied, "Well, I don't care what he thinks I might owe him. He's not having my eyes for real. I have a feeling I'm going to need them."
For future use. He wasn't planning to attack innocent people. But now he had some better idea of what he was capable of, maybe, just maybe, he could actually use abilities for the better, or some more harmless fun for those who might need a lesson in manners.
"Don't worry, I'll, I'll be fine," Russell said, managing a small smile that he hoped would be reassuring.
"I'm guessing it's a lingering aftereffect," Antonio said, "Rest is the best solution, given that it isn't really an injury of the body. While the soul knits itself back together and becomes whole again, some fatigue will be expected."
Leofric then pulled out another bottle of his coat. It was able the size of a standard water bottle and had a glittering purple liquid inside. It was offered to Rook.
"Here, this should help replenish you as well, given the help you gave me," Leofric said then, "It took me a while to get it to taste like cookies and cream, but people find it's more palatable that way."
Russell rubbed at the back of his neck.
"So I uh, I guess I should probably go and, and do that," Russell said, "Unless I, I can help with, with anything else... it feels like I've, I've not really done much here, except look, look after Lucien's jacket."
"I suppose some have a redemption arc, and I suppose some go in the opposite direction," Antonio said, "On this occasion, you are the better person than me, I won't deny that."
He chuckled a little bit.
"Of course not," Antonio said, drumming a set of sharp claws on the top of his walking cane. When had they appeared? "You think I'm going to miss a rare chance to be something more than what I am now?"
Despite all of his efforts. It appeared that Lucien just couldn't be swayed. Antonio could see it in his face, especially his eyes.
"Heh, of course not," Antonio replied then, "Well, you've made your choice. Seeing as I can't have your mind..."
The green swirling mists disappeared from his eyes, and they instead turned a solid black, like that of a long abandoned tunnel. His teeth appeared sharper, and green energy formed around his hands. He then held one of that out towards Lucien, who might have started to feel a horrible stretching sensation inside of his chest.
"I'm going to have your soul."
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carcarrot · 1 year ago
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hollywood bowl btw. if you even care
my most expensive event ever??? no one ended up buying my extra tickets. and i flew here and got a hotel room and the shoes and etc but concerts are forever!!!!! especially this one
friend and i worked HARD to nail our ron and russ looks. so many people complimented us and took our picture
got TWO official sparks shirts and the socks. they didnt have the pins :(
also got a hollywood bowl christmas tree ornament :)
tmbg show was SUPER FUN. but also very loud and a little harsh sound wise. they thanked sparks twice for having them open for them
sparks don't address tmbg at all when they come out lmao
the energy for the sparks show was insane from the start they were really giving it all
really hoping theres video of this little hip sway move russell did near the end of so may we start. really enjoyed it
he did a similar move during the groovy instrumental part of when im with you think. he was selling it
unlike ny this time i managed to remember to watch for russells shirt unbuttoning during shopping mall of love. all thoughts are redacted
the concert goes by so fast!!!! but what a time
stood up for music that you can dance to and just kept standing/bouncing for the rest of the show
no escalator :((((((
russell's weirdly long intro to we go dancing. thanks for the intricate context abt north korea
russell saying 'that looks beautiful!' in between lyrics of all that when everyone held up their phones w the flashlight on
edgar taking the band photo :)))))
weird al was also allegedly there (did not see him) and christi haydon was there (i was too shy to talk to her but she looked so fab)
just a general incredible energy of the show you could tell they made the hollywood bowl show so special
got a weird bootleg sparks shirt after the concert from a weird guy
#I LOVED THE SHOWWW#being further back as in not front row meant i could really take in the spectacular light show it was amazing#ok now im sorry but . time to be me abt this#idk what it was if it was the bit of rosé i had or what but there were really some moments where i was like 😵‍💫🥴😳🫠. you know#there were a few times i think russ made eye contact w me i think. considering i was pretty noticeable in the suit#BUT. in the continuing saga of this.#had my letter in a rose bouquet and i was prepared to give it#made my around to where the garden boxes were separated from the poor circle#but the security people were just like no. you cant!#so i was like. now what . my friend offered to throw the bouquet and maybe we should have done that but i dont think we were close enough#so we walked around the bowl but god bless i had zero idea where backstage would have been#not as easy as beacon theatre stage doors#so we returned to our hotel but not before buying a couple bootleg sparks shirts ill take a pic and post it#either life is trying to tell me something or i should go for third times the charm and use the fan club address#we will see. but overall great show and such a fun time#ron was also havin fun during shopping mall of love#and did a great full grinning ron shuffle#whew ok. if i think of more ill talk abt it plus ill post some of me videos n photos#i was also going all out singing as youd expect. it was great#spars#EDITING MY TAGS I FORGOT TO MENTION TUMMY. WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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cursesavior · 2 days ago
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Suguru smiles gently at his softly-spoken words - of course he knew he was Satoru's first true friend. He used to make fun of him for it all the time, actually, tease him about just how obvious it was that he had absolutely zero social skills and not the slightest clue about how the whole friendship thing worked. He was so annoying at first- he still is sometimes- and it drove Suguru to his wits end how he would sneer at him and get on his ass for being weaker. But eventually he realized Satoru's real intentions- he'd wanted his attention, but didn't know how else to go about getting it. His patience for him grew after he realized just how lonely he must be if this is he goes about interacting with people - and here they are now.
"Yeah, I know." He turns his head to gaze into his eyes again, eyes soft and longing as he listens to him speak. Learning about the clans when he'd first become a sorcerer had been so confusing, a real pain in the ass- especially with how Satoru was so insistent on how important he was and how Suguru should know him. But he could still remember that almost indiscernible glint in his eye when he started to understand that, not only did Suguru not know what family he came from, but he truly didn't care. He kept pushing him, insisting upon himself and seeing if he would buy into the Gojo clan hype, but he never did. Never viewed him as some kind of deity, but saw him as the irritating, brash, lonely teenager he is. Well, at least he's not lonely anymore. He can be proud of that.
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"Mm," He gives a sympathetic hum when he reveals how he used to run away as a child just to, well, be a child, heart aching in his chest for him. It's not like Suguru had some perfect idyllic childhood, but at least he had one. Satoru never got the chance to be a kid, which was why he was always so quick to indulge when he wanted to goof off, laughed along whenever he was being silly- that's part of it, anyways. He almost gasps when he feels his fingers tracing his skin, but once their fingers lock together he squeezes his hand, turning on his side to face him better, keeping their hands held preciously between them. "Don't you ever think about what it would've been like if we had met earlier? If we just ran into each other while you were wandering around... I think I would've wanted to be your friend back then, too." He wonders how different things could've been- if they could've found solace from both of their loneliness in each other so early in their lives. It leaves him feeling bittersweet, but he has no regrets. "Well, even if it took us a while to meet, I'm still happy with the time we've had. We have the rest of our lives, after all."
It almost sounds romantic, if he allows his mind to wander like that. Til death do they part, right? He can't imagine his life without Satoru at this point, and with how clingy the other is it feels safe to say the feeling is mutual, even if Suguru feels... A little more than he should. But they have plenty of time. Even if it never expands beyond best friends, he should just be happy that he has so many more years with him to look forward to. He sighs to himself, eyes fluttering for a moment as he hesitates, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he wonders just how much he should share.
"You know... I never had a lot of friends, either, especially not as a kid. There weren't any sorcerers in my village, so everyone either thought I was cursed or just crazy. Rumors spread fast, so nobody really wanted to get close to me..." Eventually he'd learned to just keep his mouth shut about the strange and horrifying things he saw on a daily basis, but by that time the damage had already been done. Even in middle school, the whispers about 'the Geto boy' persisted, despite how hard he tried to fit in and become a model student... But that doesn't matter anymore. He could finally be himself and have someone who appreciated him for who he really was, and it feels like a weight off his chest. He squeezes his hand again, thumb running over his knuckles affectionately as he resists the urge to lift them to his lips and plant a kiss against his skin. "So I'd be pretty lonely without you, too. It really must be fate, huh?"
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          The thing is, is he would build a shrine for him if he could, if he knew that Suguru wouldn't look at him differently for doing so. He's seen many idols who he thinks deserve it less; Suguru is easily one of the best people he has ever met. Someone who actually makes a difference, who looks at people and sees what's hidden deeper down, doesn't just divulge in the persona that rests on the surface. He would've been someone different had Suguru not spoken to him, had they not been paired together. But Suguru had called him out on the person that he had been, challenges his views at any given point, and something about it…it feels natural. It feels like home, far more than his clan home has ever felt. So yes, he would happily build a shrine to him. He would happily dedicate so many things to him, had he just…stepped forward and been able to tell him all of it. But it's hard  ––  when it all hangs in the balance, when he tends to love someone so much but know that they're everything no matter what, how is he supposed to traverse it?
          So no. For now he won't build that shrine, won't bat his eyes at Suguru in the way that he means for it to be, because they aren't ready for that conversation. He doesn't know if he will ever be. But it's fine. For now, he can look at Suguru like he hung the stars in the sky outside and be content.
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          Blue eyes soften; he rolls onto his side so that he can watch his profile, keeps himself silent for a moment as he speaks. Anyone else would've been interrupted and he would've been annoying about it, but Suguru's the one that always has his full attention. It's always been that way, even before they found friendship. It's like he instinctively just knew that Suguru would wind up being important to him.  "You know you're my first actual friend, right?"  His voice is soft, testing the waters between the two of them. It's not abnormal for them to have conversations like this  ––  Satoru regularly indulges him in all sorts of conversations, from silly to serious and everything in between. But this feels personal, like cracking open his chest and allowing Suguru to actively view inside. 
          "Everyone else…it was always because of the name. When I was a kid, everything was studying and honing my technique. I used to sneak out to try and feel normal."  Which was horrendous, given the fact that he always had a damn bounty on his head. He had been desperate enough to not care  ––  he was a child. Eyes are careful though when he looks at Suguru  ––  if he had encountered him as a child, would things have been less lonely? Teeth bite into his bottom lip for a second before he reaches out, gives into the urges that keep rising up  ––  he drags his fingers along the backs of Suguru's, then slots his fingers in between.  "Curse users, sorcerers, anything in between. I'm glad that fate put us together because I would be really lonely without you."
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megansplants · 2 years ago
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insanechayne · 2 months ago
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~ ~ ~
#I think I’m lonely in a way I can’t fully describe#I have a partner and friends and family but still often feel alone even when I’m with them#I don’t feel close to anyone at times and I don’t know if it’s outside circumstances or just me#like with my partner being asexual we don’t really do certain activities that I’d like to partake in more often and I can’t hold it against#them for how they do/don’t feel but at the same time I’m craving a physical connection I can’t have and am struggling#doesn’t help that I think about sex all the time nowadays and would really like to be having it and experiencing/exploring certain things#it’s not always easy to take care of oneself that way and still also try to console the ace partner apologizing for who they are#and yeah hall passes are great but only if you have someone to use it on and I’ve never had anyone want to be with me sexually#moving on to bestie I don’t feel my same love and affection being reciprocated and that sucks because I really do anything I can for him#and am like that with pretty much all of mt friends where if they need me for something I’ll be there#but a lot of the time it seems like he really only wants to talk/hang out with me if he’s at work and I can come visit with him#any time I invite him to do something with me outside of work he flakes and so it’s not even worth inviting him anymore#and yeah there’s rare times where he’ll call me a bunch in one day but it’s always just to tell me some gossip from work#not that gossip isn’t fun but still don’t you want to jus talk to me? I always want to just talk to you even if it’s about nothing at all#I’m always the one putting myself out there for him and being there for him when he calls me but I almost never get that same response back#and it’s like I know he has a family so I know he can’t always drop everything for me nor would I ever expect that but just some matching of#my energy would be nice you know? but then I feel guilty/selfish because I feel like I shouldn’t ask that of him when he does have a life#away from work. and I mean I guess I do too but it’s different because partner and I don’t have kids and don’t do much aside from sit around#together or have tea or other things most often done at home. and I don’t live with partner full time yet so I also still have other freedom#outside of just being with them. and other responsibilities I take care of but not on the same level as a wife and kids I guess#idk now I just feel like I’m whining but tbh all this stuff is weighing on me and just making me feel really shitty#I don’t know how to fix these issues without sounding like a selfish bitch and I’m obviously not going to cut anyone off but I don’t really#see any other solutions forming either. so it’s like I guess I’ll just keep my mouth shut and keep feeling bad until the end of time since#that’s the easiest thing to do and then no one else is hurt or upset aside from me#I just feel like I’m destined to float through life never getting back what I need from my relationships but still giving everything because#I don’t know any other way to be. I don’t know how to set boundaries even for myself so I’ll just keep giving and giving until I’m dead#and yeah I guess I am still a lot happier than I used to be and I appreciate the people in my life#just sometimes feels like they don’t really appreciate me back is all#so now I have to lay here next to partner and have all this shit running in my mind and try to get over it on my own#reasonably I should just go to bed but the loneliness is gnawing at me and idk what to do to make it go away
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insertdisc5 · 11 months ago
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🎮 HEY I WANNA MAKE A GAME! 🎮
Yeah I getcha. I was once like you. Pure and naive. Great news. I AM STILL PURE AND NAIVE, GAME DEV IS FUN! But where to start?
To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:
SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!
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Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup
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Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity
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Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty
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RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)
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engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?
✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨
ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :
Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!
GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!
Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!
BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!
-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!
-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.
-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.
-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.
-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!
I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye
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cuteniaarts · 3 months ago
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What if… Suiren in Vaatu’s colours 😳👀
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#my art#artists on tumblr#the legend of korra#avatar suiren au#original character#sotrl suiren#Kat once said. and I quote – ‘Suiren would look really good with Vaatu’s colours. you can’t argue because I’m right’#so here I am. not arguing and instead giving the people what they want#because SHE DOES look good in Vaatu’s colours#don’t get me wrong I love her in her usual blue. but the red & black just does something to my brain#lmao I’m picturing her fusing with Vaatu and getting like a magical girl transformation 😂😂😂#okay not really but. if Vaatu could fuse with Unalaq to become… whatever the fuck that thing that sometimes appears in my nightmares was#then he could definitely dye her dress a different colour if he wanted to. okay? okay#and he’d zap her fire nation bracelet into a water tribe one bc it’s important to balance the colour scheme 😤#(for the record this wouldn’t actually happen in universe I’m just messing around)#this AU is just way too fun to play around with. yes I will make my already badass OC into an overpowered Mary Sue who replaces the mc#what are you gonna do about it?#I can’t stop drawing stuff for it#focusing literally only on the fun silly goofy parts because there’s enough heavy stuff in other verses AND irl already#maybe I just want family shenanigans mixed in with a rewrite of LoK’s shitty politics? have you ever thought about that?#is that such a crime?#and most of all. this makes me happy and I like to indulge in it. and enjoying creating is already so rare for me#so as long as this AU keeps being enjoyable for me I’m gonna keep at it no matter what anyone says#avatar suiren is my little self indulgent concept that I came up with when I was 13 and waited far too long to do something with#so now I’m making up for all those years#sue me :)#(is it just me or have I been saying ‘sue me’ way too much recently. idk. my mom’s a lawyer* that porbably has something to do with it)#(*has a law degree but never once used it. why the fuck would she get one when she already has an accountant’s degree? hell if I know)#anyway random side ramble about my mom’s life story aside#what colour do you think a balanced avatar’s eyes would turn when they go into the avatar state?
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