#the final product filmed and the final product I have look a bit different

[rebelfell]

for your viewing pleasure┃vol. 1

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and I’ve included a “finale” of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.

cw: pornstar!au, so…porn. but it’s also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.

18+, MDNI┃8.7k

special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 🥰 ilyaaf

After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from his first job.

Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.

So, so, so bad. Like, he’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. We’re talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.

And that’s great for her, but terrible for camera.

They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they can’t with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be—and they’re yelling “CUT” and scolding him all over again.

And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and ‘just do me this solid—please?’ in her eyes.

So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so it’s really obvious how real it really is.

And so they can move the fuck on already.

Then they’re filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.

He’s not just slamming into her without any care; he’s not using her to get off; he’s trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.

Like so good, she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.

Her boyfriend of six years be damned.

And once they wrap, Eddie’s not exactly “fired” but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting called back.

Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.

So the production company is like, “We gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.”

And just so we’re clear, he gets that contract. 

But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.

“My buddy, my guy, my man, you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.”

So Eddie walks. And he’s ready to call it quits entirely…until you approach him.

Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alert—you do.

You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.

Something different. Something special.

And, oh. He is so on board with that.

Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devil—that’s the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.

And Steve Harrington is LIVID.

He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.

They’re literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.

Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.

Then he watches it.

And, oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.

For one, he wasn’t going down on girls. He just wasn’t. He’s not like…against it, or anything. But he sort of didn’t realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuck’s sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasn’t that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)

Secondly…the girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other “orgasms” in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he can’t un-hear it.

From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.

No, seriously.

Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.

The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.

Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a hit.

The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and she’s been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.

Not on Eddie’s watch.

He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So he’s not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.

Although his is very, very nice.

His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.

He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she can’t hold it back any longer and explodes.

And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, “Everything okay in there, babe?” after she’s done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.

Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.

Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.

It’s alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.

Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.

The one thing you’re never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.

He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.

The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because he’ll be happy to.

It’s…completely and utterly disarming.

He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesn’t ever stray from that unflagging decency that’s so rare in this industry. 

And you pray he never will.

It’s Eddie who pitches your next film.

He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.

(One guess who’s playing him.)

Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.

All part of the vision, he assured you.

They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry’s off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.

Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.

It’s oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branches—a foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds. 

And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.

Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he fell off the table.

Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.

Except you’re not watching them…because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.

And you almost, almost, ask him about her—but you’re cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.

The studio is calling, and they’re pissed.

They’ve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.

Plus exclusive use of Eddie.

(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)

You know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of it—you swung big so you’d have plenty of room to negotiate—but it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.

You both know you’re onto something special and you’re in it together, to the end of the line.

Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.

He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.

An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because he’s got on this tank top with arm holes that’ve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you aren’t entirely sure why you’re getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when there’s not a single intimate inch of his        body you haven’t already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.

In fact, it’s the same body you’re watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And he’s wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.

You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward, more like you’re mutually tickled by the fact that it’s not? There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.

In a way, it’s like there never was.

He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. He’s interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. There’s such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. It’s ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.

You think it’s a great idea…at first.

But then you’re watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.

It’s all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you can’t help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.

“So, uh, what…what exactly are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.

“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.

“I find my moments,” he says.

Smirks back. Winks.

And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?

He’s close now. It wouldn’t take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You can’t, though. You don’t. Because it would be so…stupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything you’re working towards, totally gone.

You’re starting the porn for women movement, here. You can’t fuck your first star!

And you don’t. You keep it professional. You tell him you’re going to call it a day and head home so he’ll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire life…Well, that’s different.

That’s totally and completely different.

The next time you see him, it’s business as usual.

You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.

And it is just a crush. It has to be.

Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.

Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex you’ve ever seen in your life. But that’s unrelated.

The next shoot is your biggest yet. It’s at this massive mansion that you’re dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort.  Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.

After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think it’s best you lean hard into the “Eddie fucks it better” sort of storylines.

Because why not play to your strengths?

Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and she’s nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isn’t like her, she’s never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.

The light is perfect, everyone’s in place…but there’s no one for Eddie to fuck.

Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and you’ve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.

It’s gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you don’t think of something. Like, right now.

Eddie can see you’re stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.

You could do it.

You’re here, for one. And you’ve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.

It’s been a while, and you’re not quite “camera-ready” after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.

The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and you’ve got a bigger crew now—people who know your vision and can help bring it forth.

Plus, you’ll be with Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. You’d bet your life on it.And, well…you and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.

The shoot is…interesting.

From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. He’s got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face. 

And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.

Before you even get to the sex stuff, you’re putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs. 

You’re not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher… arousal promptly pooling between your legs.

He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive. 

As if he’s constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.

Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were his…

His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.

You wait for his next line—when he offers you a very ‘special’ massage with a ‘special’ technique he ‘doesn’t use on just anyone.’ 

But Eddie goes off script.

He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he can’t stand to take it away, even to speak. “I had to taste you…”

“It’s okay,” you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, “It’s okay, just please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going until you come, until you’re reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, it’s back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every time—

That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.

Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.

This pussy is all mine now, you understand?

And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But it’s the other stuff he does—the quieter, subtle things you aren’t expecting—that really push you over the edge again and again. And again.

It’s the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so you’re the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or I’m gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one now—

It’s…it’s almost too much. You knew he’d be good, you just didn’t expect how good. 

And you definitely didn’t expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure he’s not being too rough, telling you how great you’re doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you all…fluttery.

But it’s not until after you wrap for the day, after you’ve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.

Not once.

When Eddie calls later that week, it’s to ask you out. Not on a date, though. 

Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you haven’t been able to think about anything besides him since.

You. Can’t. Date.

You’re pretty much his boss, don’t forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paper—but if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you don’t want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). He’s earned everything he’s gotten.

And now that includes an award.

That’s what he’s calling about. He’s been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except he’s sort of freaking out because he’s never done anything like this before and he’s really nervous and he kind of needs you there because ‘you’re the only one I’m always comfortable with.’

So he asks if you’ll go with him. As friends.

And you say you will. And it’s fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this—FUCK. 

Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.

It’s unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you can’t stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand around—

Nope. Nope. You’re not going there. The only place you’re going tonight is these awards.

Except when you get there, the organizers don’t want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still aren’t familiar with you as a director, and you haven’t starred in a project in months. That’s practically a century in porn time.

Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didn’t even work on. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While you’re shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, he’s being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.

You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. She’s a biter.

They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.

And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like you’re chewing on glass. But it’s…difficult.

Especially when you look up at the worst possible time—the exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss. 

Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.

Eddie should have walked with you. 

He should have done a lot of things, actually.

He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.

He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this ‘as friends’ bullshit.

Maybe if he had, he’d be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy you’re with right now.

Eddie knows him. Well, he doesn’t know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.

Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.

(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie you’d ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort of…happened across one. Or five.)

And it’s not that he’s jealous—because there’s nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. You’re just catching up with an old coworker.

It’s fine. Totally fine. Did he mention it’s fine?

But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, he’s striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.

The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.

And he’s really not sure.

Because much like you, he’s not used to this; he’s not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; he’s not used to holding anything back—not when it comes to you.

“I should have stayed with you,” he blurted out at last. “That was messed up, I—”

Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. “It’s fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it,” he shot back. “I could have said something, I could have told them—”

“What for?” you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. “I mean, what…what would be the point? It’s not like we’re…or that you’re…”

He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.

“God, listen to me!” you laugh bitterly. “I sound like some crazy, jealous…something, and I don’t know why I’m getting this upset when you don’t even like me—”

“Wait, what? Who the fuck said that?”

He can tell you’re shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thought…”

You fell silent as Eddie’s hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze. 

Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.

Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.

His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to grip you harder. There’s a tenacity in his kiss, as if he’s trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.

You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be coming—a slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.

He might deserve both, but receives neither.

You don’t pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, “I didn’t want the first time I did that to be on camera.”

You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you don’t ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.

“What about the second?” you whisper.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.

He’s not kissing you like it’s his job; like he’s just doing what was written for him in a script—he’s doing it like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like it’s all he needs.

Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life.

The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.

You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.

“More,” he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. “Fucking please, sweetheart, I need more—”

Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.

The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddie’s passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.

Room full of people be damned.

Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.

But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.

There’s a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.

Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking up—but it’s usually not until the afterparty.

Cocktail hour isn’t even over, for crying out loud.

Then they realize who it is.

The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddie’s hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudly—too absorbed in what he’s doing to even realize what’s happened.

Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way you’re covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.

Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.

Together.

The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.

Whereas on the way to the convention center, you’d ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. It’s like he thinks he’ll die if he stops touching you for even a second—lips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.

You do your best to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere ‘sorry’ for the display. But he seems unphased.

Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, you’re lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.

Of your apartment, that is.

Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see you’re lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.

He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, he’s still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.

The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.

Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.

You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.

With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddie’s hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handle—more erotic than anything you’ve ever filmed.

He’s going slow because it’s slowly dawning on him what you’re about to do. 

And how this time it’s not going to be for work or for a camera. It’s going to be real. 

Except…is it going to be real?

Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? Shit…

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that this—that you—aren’t special to him.

Then suddenly, he’s not going slow anymore.

He’s stopped completely.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. “I just, ahhh…I don’t know, I think I’m psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.”

“Thinking about what?” you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.

His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh that’s heavy with fondness and whispers, “How I don’t want to mess this up.”

He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something he’s done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when it’s just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.

“Is it just me…or does it feel like something is missing?”

It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet. 

Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.

The red light blinks as you hit ‘record,’ barely taking a second to check if there’s a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.

You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.

“That better?” you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.

“Wanna taste you,” he grunts out roughly.

He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.

Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.

In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like you’re trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like you’re going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesn’t have to carry them alone.

There’s a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t want it,” he groans back, “I need it. I’ve needed it since I fucking met you.”

The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.

“Everyone always uses you,” you tell him softly, almost mournfully.

His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.

“I want you to use me,” you instruct him. “Take whatever you need, as much as you want.”

And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.

“Sweetheart, I—oh, fuck,” he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.

“I’ll stop you if I need a break,” you reply firmly.

The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.

And you knew Eddie’s dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. He’s almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when you’ve not even gotten started.

It was practically a miracle he didn’t soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.

His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like you’re at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.

“Fuck my throat, Eddie. Please.”

And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. It’s almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your hand—

He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth that’s dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.

The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.

“Jesus Christ…”

Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.

Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like he’s in pain even though the sounds he’s releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.

“Oh, pl…p-please,” he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.

He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.

You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddie’s undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.

His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and they’re wet—shiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.

Quick as you can, you’re on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if he’s okay. And Eddie can’t answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.

He can’t kiss you enough, it seems. 

You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.

And you know there’s still a lot left to figure out—damage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.

Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.

All that matters is you and him.

You lay there for a while, just…being. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body he’s always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and don’t seem so daunting anymore. Don’t seem so scary.

When he’s hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.

“Something wrong, Ed?” you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.

“F-fu…fuuuuuck meeee…” he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“Oh,” you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, “I’m sorry, is that not what I was doing?”

His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.

Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.

“Nah,” he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Sorry is what you’re gonna be.”

A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddie’s hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.

Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.

The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice you’ve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like he’s trying to eat you, like he’s trying to fuse your faces.

You’re certainly not complaining.

And now that he’s the one with the camera, he’s eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position he’s been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, there’s not a single angle on you that isn’t pristine. 

He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust back—seeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache he’s made.

And even as you’re making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.

It’s a love tape.

thank you for reading — love you, mean it! 🏝️

[mrsbarnesblog]

personal pillow

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: established relationship, avengers tease bucky, he's a grumpy old man, fluff

Author’s note: soft bucky is my everything, and I literally cannot imagine him acting another way.

Bucky Barnes wasn't the most affectionate and nice person on earth. Always grumpy and with an attitude, didn’t like physical touch, and hated being vulnerable and soft. However, when you were alone in your room, he was a completely different man. 

The only thing that he loved more than you, food, and old music was sleep. He hated it right after the Winter Soldier program was removed because of the violent and dark nightmares, but you were the solution to all of his problems. 

He loved sleeping with you. On you, to be exact. 

He accidentally discovered it once when he just threw himself onto your bed and somehow laid with his head on your stomach. 

You didn't know why your boyfriend liked it so much, but since that day he always ended up on your stomach, your boobs, or between your thighs with hands wrapped around your body, and it was almost impossible to drag him away. You always ran your fingers through his fluffy hair in soothing motions to ease the tension in his body, and it worked every single time. Bucky slept like a baby in your arms. 

Today he left early in the morning for training with Sam, but then he had a lot of paper work and something that needed to be done in the city, so you didn’t really talk to or see him. He only left a kiss on your forehead while you were still in bed and sent you a few messages throughout the day. 

It was your day off, and you didn’t feel like doing anything special or being productive. So you brought a fluffy comforter from your bed, a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in the common room to watch a movie on a big ass screen that Tony bought to show off.

When the film almost ended and you were already kind of sleepy, you heard firm footsteps from the hall. The tall and big body was standing in the doorframe, but you didn’t see your boyfriend’s face yet; it was pretty dark in the room.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” You paused your movie and squinted to see Bucky. 

“Fucking amazing. A bunch of assholes and tons of reports that they sent me last minute.” He grumbled, coming closer to you. “Let’s go, I need my personal pillow or I won’t fall asleep.” 

You tried to hold back a laugh when you finally saw his face. Tired and frowned with pouty lips like a child. Bucky was painfully cute when he was a little bit mad and annoyed, and you didn’t want to do anything more than pinch his cheeks and kiss all of his face.

“You look so cute, gosh.” You smiled, biting your lip. “But I have only... fifteen minutes of my movie left, and I really want to finish it today. Do you want to lay on me here for now?” You opened the covers and pointed at your belly. 

Bucky stood there silently for a few seconds, still with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want these douchebags to see us here.”

“They won’t; Steve is on the mission, Natasha is already in her room, and Sam went on a date. C’mon, I’ll massage your head.” That was everything you needed to convince your boyfriend to give up. He took off his shoes and laid on top of you with his head on your stomach and hands around your waist. 

You covered your bodies with a duvet and stroked his hair, brushing it over and over again with your fingers. You felt that Bucky pulled up your shirt a little bit, and as soon as his cheek met with your warm skin, he heavily sighted, finally feeling safe and calm.

“That's okay, baby.” You cooed, massaging his scalp. “Do you want to talk about your day? What made you upset?” 

“No, just want to feel you, doll. Missed you so much.” He mumbled against your stomach and closed his eyes as your soft touches made his body almost melt into yours. 

“I missed you too. I’ll just finish my film and we’ll go to sleep, ‘kay?” Bucky just slightly nodded, already feeling too sleepy to actually say something. 

It didn’t take him too much time to fall asleep completely. Your gentle scratches and the way you rolled his hair around your finger, along with the muffled sound of the TV and soft cover on top of him, did their work, and Bucky was peacefully snoring on you in a span of a few seconds. 

You weren’t much better than him; your eyes started closing as soon as the credit scene began, and you didn’t have enough power in you to resist it, especially when a giant, hot human pillow was sleeping on top of you. 

So you just gave up. 

The first thing that you heard when you woke up was mumbled talk and laughter. Your eyes snapped open because your brain completely forgot that you, in fact, weren’t in your room or bed.

The common room was filled with almost everyone. For fuck’s sake, when was the last time you saw that many Avengers together in one room? And now all of them were sitting on the other couches and armchairs, looking at you and laughing. Well, they weren’t looking at you; they were looking at Bucky, who was still glued to your body. 

You quickly sat straight, now completely awake. The movements disturbed Bucky’s peaceful sleep, making him grumble and try to get you back under him.

“I didn’t know that Cyborgs could be so clingy.” The most annoying voice Bucky could’ve possibly heard in the morning filled his ears, and he lost every last piece of sleep in his body, sitting up on the couch. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Willson? All of you, in fact.” Bucky looked around the room, seeing Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, and Clint with shit-eating smirks on their faces; Thor, who looked just happy to be involved; and Steve and Bruce, who actually felt uncomfortable to be there.

“Sorry, Buck, they just...” Steve wanted to apologize but was disturbed by Tony.

“Sam just told all of us to come here a few minutes ago because he had something hilarious. And look! The strong and scary Winter Soldier is being a softie for his girlfriend.” Tony laughed, almost dropping his cup of coffee. You didn’t even expect that, but you felt a sudden wave of anger going through your body because you were already sick of everyone pushing Bucky’s buttons. 

“Or maybe all of you should just mind your own business? You both would actually know something about Bucky if you tried anything besides making fun of him or trying to get him angry. You don’t even understand how fucking hard it is for him to communicate after everything that happened, and all of you are getting on my nerves. Just a bunch of children, I swear.” You growled, standing up and grabbing Bucky’s hand to drag him away. 

Everyone was surprised by your words, and even Bucky looked at you with a weird expression on his face but still stood up, holding your hand. 

“Sweets, it’s just a joke—” Natasha started.

“No, it’s not. I love you, Nat, I really do, but it’s not funny.” You looked around the room. “Y’all probably don’t understand the effect that your words  have, but I see in private what none of you can. And when I tell you that your mockery and jokes make everything worse, I really mean it.” Bucky awkwardly shifted near you under all of the eyes that were glued to him. He felt exposed by the way everyone saw how he showed his affection to you and that he, in fact, was a really touchy and sensitive person. “C’mon, Buck, everything’s okay.” You looked back at him with your usual soft eyes, and his whole attention was now focused completely on you. 

Everyone saw how Bucky’s body language changed when you talked to him, and even if someone like Tony or Sam couldn’t admit it out loud, the thought of being too harsh on Bucky appeared in their heads. 

Without any further words, you lead your boyfriend out of the common room, leaving the Avengers in an awkward silence. 

The comfort of your and Bucky’s shared room made you deeply inhale as soon as the door was closed behind you two. Before you could even say something, two strong hands wrapped around you from the back, and Bucky buried his face into your neck.

“Thank you, doll.” Your hand reached behind you to gently stroke Bucky's hair. “You didn’t have to do it, really. I got used to their words.” He squeezed you tighter, pressing his chest into your back.

“That’s not okay, baby. I’m sick of that. You may not say it to me or even admit it to yourself, but I see that it hurts you.” You turned around in his hands, placing your own on both sides of his face. “But that’s okay that you want to cuddle, to sleep on me, to be held. Really. There is nothing wrong with it. I’m really honored to be the person who is allowed to see your soft side.”

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, doll, you can’t even fucking imagine,” Bucky whispered before leaning forward to kiss you.

“I love you, James.”

“Can we stay here today? I don’t really want to talk with anyone besides my sweet and protective girl.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his teasing tone. 

“Of course we can, Buck.” That was your last word before Bucky lifted you off the ground, put you on the soft blankets of your bed, and climbed on top of you, happily wrapping around your body and falling asleep. 

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[sparrowlucero]

ik you were joking but I would be genuinely interested to hear about the flux cowriting credits strife if you feel like going into detail on it

So I have a big conspiracy theory about season 13 of Doctor Who ("Flux"), namely that there's a lost episode was scripted and even possibly filmed in near entirety, but ended up being cut and cannibalized in post production due to behind the scenes issues, and the fandom has yet to pick up on it.

For anyone who doesn't watch the show: Flux is a miniseries of Doctor Who; a full season was not commissioned because it was produced during Covid. The most important stuff about it for the purposes of this post are:

It's 6 episodes long (¹). The episodes are all directly continuous and could not be shuffled around. (I should clarify here that, no, the showrunner can't simply choose on a whim to make 10 episodes, or only make 4; they had to stick to 6, as that was the amount they were picked up and scheduled for)

The showrunner, Chris Chibnall , wrote every episode apart from episode 4 (Village of the Angels) which he has a co-writing credit on.

(More subjectively but perhaps relevant) The season is largely considered to be kind of a structural mess and (less subjectively) there appears to some abnormal and consistent production issues (²)

So the first thing I need to evidence here is that Chris Chibnall, aforementioned showrunner and writer of the entire season, was late. Like, really late.

Word of mouth gossip had been circulating for a while that there was some sort of on-set problem involving filming having to be paused because he was still finishing scripts: (³)

This would later be confirmed at a Gallifrey One panel (⁴) with Matt Strevens, the executive producer, who suggests that filming stopped to allow Chris Chibnall to finish scripts; he further implies that large swathes of episode 5/Block 2 weren't written until Episode 4/Block 1 (in which Kevin McNally debuts) was filming:

So with that context, let's talk about that Episode 4, "Village of the Angels", the only episode not attributed solely to Chris Chibnall. Co written by Maxine Alderton.

The filming pics reveal an interesting bit of trivia for Village: namely, the clapperboards show that the story was actually filmed as episode 5, not 4:

As the above tweet suggests, this doesn't make much sense. The miniseries is, again, a single continuous plot. It's not like they flipped Village and the current episode 5, Survivors of the Flux; the latter explicitly takes place chronologically after it. And yet, Village having been intended as the penultimate episode 5 is further evidenced by the original trailer for it, in which a character states that the story takes place on the 28th of November. This line is dubbed over in the final episode and subsequent trailers to instead say the 21st:

Why is this line important enough to dub? Because that's meant to line up with the air date of the episode. Episode 4 aired on the 21st and 5 on the 28th. But something happened in post production, and now it's episode 4 on the 21st instead (⁵):

So if none of these episodes were moved around but it does seem like Village was meant to be episode 5, where and what is the original episode 4?

I have a theory.

Flux has a recurring subplot involving two side characters, a married couple (Bel and Vinder) who have been separated by the titular disaster and are traveling the universe to reunite with each other. This story is told through segments sprinkled throughout the episodes. These have a different writing style (including a diary-esque narration only present in these scenes) and an internally consistent visual style that looks somewhat different to the other parts of the season.

Village of the Angels, for instance, is a moody, dark episode set in a village in the 1960s:

However, Bel and Vinder's segments in the episode have a somewhat different look:

On top of this, they never intersect with the episode's A plot (literally or in any clear thematic way), and the majority of these segments piece together into one single scene that seems to have been cut up.

So, what I think is that the bel and vinder scenes across the middle of the season were originally a single full story, an episode 4 that took a breather from the main plot and characters to follow the lives of these two side characters; the differing visual and writing style is due to it originally having been filmed separately and with a somewhat different artistic intent. I believe Chris Chibnall's cowriting credit on Angels exists because these specific scenes are from a script he wrote, but that otherwise the Angel script can be credited solely to Maxine Alderton by normal cowriting standards.

"But wait," you might say, "I thought there were already 6 episodes that are all plot relevant? If no episodes existing right now can be cut, how could this 7th episode exist?"

Remember this tidbit:

The adventures in question comprise a large amount of the next episode (Episode 5: Survivors of the Flux), nearly 20 minutes of a 50ish minute runtime (and frankly, much of the rest of the episode is somewhat fluffy build up that feels like it's taking advantage of an extended runtime). A version without this added plot would, in my opinion, only warrant one final episode rather than two.

I think the showrunner, still scrambling to finish scripts as the episodes were being filmed, and making a snap decision to include a new major subplot (⁶), wrote a finale script so long and with so many plot threads that the only way to keep all this material of was to split it into two episodes, 5 and 6. And because they only could only make 6, he had to get rid of one of the previous 5 episodes - the already scripted and filmed ones - to make room for this new episode 5. A tough order when it's a plot-heavy miniseries... if not for episode 4 being a standalone divergence from the main plot about the lives of two side characters, one that could, in theory, be cut up and dispersed throughout the season without continuity issues for the main story.

(Some notes and clarifications under the cut)

(1) some sources initially reported the episode count as 8; this wasn't inaccurate - the 2022 new years/easter special were part of the episode order. Flux itself was always meant to be 6 episodes long. (2) A few of the production issues include: - episodes filming without a second draft:

- the fx team that had been on the show since 2005 abruptly leaving midseason (because they "didn't feel like part of the team anymore") and returning as soon as the creative team changed, including the head of the studio implying they weren't properly credited (mild vfx body horror warning in link):

- people working on additional projects such as books not receiving clear information on the characters they were assigned to write:

- and likely a director who was put on hold due to a script being rewritten:

Among other things I can't directly cite at the moment, including vfx artists having to do whole episodes solo in crunch time and writers not being told their work was massively overhauled until it aired due to major changes being extremely late in production.

While I don't wish to pontificate too much here and many of these things are pretty normal by themselves, I do think it could paint a picture of a production where an episode well into filming may genuinely be cut on a whim and without consideration for the crew, artists, etc. working on the show. (3) This reddit post comes from a leaker who was known to be consistently accurate. (4) Gallifrey One does not allow filming of panels. I know Kevin's livetweets of panels to be accurate. (5) It's very, very unlikely the entire season was moved back a week, as the premier is a Halloween special that was certainly always intended to air on Oct. 31st. (6) I don't wish to insinuate Chris Chibnall is, throughout his career, an inherently poor showrunner, but I do think that maybe his jump from police procedural - a genre that doesn't involve quite as much concept art, vfx work, marketing, convention panels, set building, episodic storytelling, and keeping in touch with expanded universe producers - to flagship science fiction adventure show may have contributed to some of these issues, especially when he was already in the mindset that things could be changed on a whim (perhaps not such a major issue when it's broadchurch and no new sets need be built)

(source) Basically I don't really think this is "the showrunner's fault" or anything; more that a perfect storm of a showrunner who was habitually late on scripts, used to writing lowkey cop dramas, covid, an entirely serialized season, etc. may have led to these issues

[runaeveena]

intense meta acting boot camp was actually the best decision they made for filming band of brothers because those actors truly Truly embodied the characters so much so that they physically look different from any other character they play like if i look at any picture of donnie wahlberg anytime in his career i am filled with apathy and disdain EXCEPT for when he is on screen as carwood lipton. you ask me whos my special man that i wish was my mom and i point at his potato ass head, you say "that's donnie wahlberg" and i say no that's band of brothers real life character carwood lipton and you say "bro that's donnie wahlberg he's in blue bloods" and i say no no no thats lip that's my mom and he's having speirs' baby and you say "what" and i point at real life character ron speirs and you say "is that matthew settle? from gossip girl?" but im not even listening anymore because i can't acknowledge these actors existing in anything outside of the 2001 masterpiece band of brothers and then you say "arent these real life people? dont you think youve crossed a line in how you interact with the fictional portrayal of these real people who felt vulnerable and embarrassed about the most traumatic part of their lives being made into a ten part television series?" and i say yeah that's all true, a character is bordered by an outline of historical fact that influences the way a writer or researcher who never met the man can perceive them and then mold personality traits to fit into something palatable for a story that can only try to achieve the truth because all media is art at its core. maybe the real men felt a mixture of relief and disappointment that their lives and stories were not accurately shared, and that's why there's about fifty books about them, but really the reason why there's so many people who are willing to read those books, who want to know more about these men's lives, is because the series showed us a snapshot of ordinary lives being celebrated, and those ordinary lives were crafted, honed, and acted so well because those actors did the most work they could to make each character feel alive and special. even if they weren't accurately portraying the real men, i continue, they are nonetheless influenced by them, literally taking their direction in how to behave and the final product of the show lives on as its own entity, separated from the real people, yet connected by a moment that happened eighty years ago. you nod a bit, "and that's why you're okay writing donnie wahlberg mpreg now?" and for the last fucking time its not donnie wahlberg anymore dale dye beat that name out of him for the entire duration of filming it's LIPTON

[nubiawrites]

chapter four

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. mentions of kissing, thigh riding, and dry humping. mentions of weed and alcohol. 18+

Summary: Aaron and Iriye toe the line of their connection at a celebration for Paradise Lost.

Notes: Y'all still strapped in. Cause I think y'all gonna hate me with this chapter. The ideas I have for the next chapter will be well worth it. Please reblog, like, or reply, as I love talking about stories and characters. Thank you for all the love so far.

MASTERLIST

It happened so fast, as Aaron would say, when the paparazzi and the press asked about his attachment to the project. Within three days of the first time he tasted whiskey on Iriye’s lips, the studio had sent to the trades that Lanoire Productions Paradise Lost was greenlit, Aaron smiling at the headshots of Tamara and Iriye, focusing on the latter more so. 

Seven days after feeling the weight of her straddling his lap as Iriye got herself off on his clothed length, the announcement that Aaron had been cast went out. He received many texts and calls from family and friends congratulating him on the role. But the one text he had been waiting on was from the woman who sounded so sexy grinding on his lap, nails digging into her neck and lips that were so soft. He was trying to be cool, but he was waiting for it. Two hours after the announcement, he saw her name pop up under his notifications, and he quickly read it, seeing she sent a screenshot of the article and the word congratulations.  

“Congratulations,” He muttered to himself. He didn't want to be rude, so he sent her the prayer hands emoji and a thank you. But the congratulations? It was going to haunt him for a bit.

Fourteen days after tasting the skin of Iriye’s neck, he finally saw Iriye in person. 

Aaron was focused, rerunning the scene with the actress with whom he was doing a chemistry test. Though he was filming on Lanterns, in the moments he had free time, pre-production for Paradise Lost was well on its way. 

Many execs were standing at Video Village, watching Aaron run through the lines with one of three actresses up for consideration for his romantic interest. They finished the scene, and Tamara came over, taking her headphones off her head. She began asking them to try it differently, but he zoned out as he saw Iriye chatting with Davis, the exec on the project. He probably wore rose-colored glasses, but he could tell she was happy. Anytime she was on the lot, she was. From the first time he saw her on the sound stage, taking it all in, he had to know why she was passionate.

Aaron watched as she shifted on her feet, heeled boots underneath a long denim skirt that hugged her curves nicely. The slit in her skirt peeked and showed her legs a little. She wore a graphic design shirt, and though it was simple, she looked all put together. Even if he could only think of how two weeks ago, she was falling apart in his lap from them grinding against each other through their clothes.

“So let's see how that feels?” Tamara stated. The actress, Samantha Ailey, with whom he was running his scene, nodded in agreement. “Aaron, that works?” Aaron nodded, taking in what she said and returning to the scene. He glanced over in Iriye’s direction again and saw her sit by Tamara, her peeking over at him for a second and their eyes meeting. A quick nod from her was all she gave as she returned to the video console.

Aaron turned back to Sam, noticing she was entering the space she had created for Nora, the romantic lead opposite Aaron’s Isaiah. Seeing another actor in their element, pushing and pulling in a scene, was why he was in the career. He loved the collaboration and the exploration you could do with a character. He was right at home when the scene began.

Every time Aaron read one of the words Iriye had crafted, sentences that ran together seamlessly, he was in awe. Since that night they kissed, he had reread the script, making notes and digging deeper into this character. And having fun doing so. Isaiah was quickly becoming one of his favorite characters to dive into.

“Cut!” Tamara said gently, one of the production assistants bringing over a water bottle for him and his scene partner. He thanked them, taking a sip before handing it back.

His scene partner tried to make small talk, and he indulged her, trying to stay present as he peeped over to Tamara and Iriye talking. Tamara nodded before Iriye began walking over to them.

“Hey Sam, how are you feeling?” Iriye checked in. 

“I’m doing good, Iriye. In great hands with Aaron here,” Sam said as she pointed toward him.

“Perfect,” Iriye said, turning her attention to Aaron finally. It felt like she hung the sun as her attention was on him. “So we want to try something different this time around,” 

Iriye explained the scene's underlying vibe to the two. Aaron listened, finding her perspective interesting, as he had a different idea of the scene. Iriye was just about to walk away when he stopped her.

“Yes, Aaron,” Iriye stated as she felt his hand on her arm stopping her.

“I get your reasoning behind the note, but I was wondering if we could discuss it more quickly,” Aaron asked. Iriye weighed her options momentarily before nodding, throwing her hand to Tamara. Their hand signals became apparent, and Tamara spoke to an executive.

“So, in the scene, Isaiah and Nora are weighing their options, their entanglement becoming more apparent and the attraction weighing on them. They know the repercussions, but they're drawn to each other,” Iriye explained.

“Hm. Kind of like us,” Aaron said, keeping his face neutral. Iriye narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Not like us,” Iriye shook her head.

“I said kind of like us,” Aaron replied. Iriye glared at him, and Aaron gave her a small smile.

“Focus,” Iriye breathed. “You guys are giving too much away in the scene. Pull it back. It should be a longing. A marathon. Not a sprint,” 

“I wanna see you again,” Aaron stated.

“You see me, Aaron,” 

“Not like this,” Aaron feigned concentration, but the look in his eyes was something more profound. Iriye tried to keep her cool for professionalism’s sake.

“Prove it. Get through this scene,” Iriye said before returning to video village. If Aaron could grin, he would be showing all his teeth, but Sam came back over, and they were asked if they were ready.

By the end of the scene, Aaron knew he did something right because Tamara clapped, rushing over as the camera test ended.

“We got it, folks. That’s a wrap,” Tamara said. The crew on the soundstage clapped. Aaron stepped aside so Sam could have the room and applause. 

Aaron was already searching for Iriye, seeing her clapping. He was about to walk her way, but an executive pulled her away, and he figured he would have to wait. As a production assistant handed him his water, Nelly came up, clapping her hands for him. 

“Hey big guy!” Nelly said, her loose waves framing her face. “Good job out there,”

“Thank you,” Aaron said, grateful for the woman. “But I owe it all to you, Tamara and Iriye,”

“If you say so,” Nelly said, brushing her shoulder off. “Okay, I have a request of you. And by request, more like a demand,”

Aaron let out a chuckle. As he looked down at the woman, who stood at five foot three, he could tell she was tall in personality.

“What do you need? Another birthday message,” Aaron joked. 

“No, but Auntie Devon thanks you, and you’re invited for dinner anytime you want,” Nelly pointed out. “I’m throwing a bit of a surprise celebration on Tamara’s rooftop for her and Iriye,” Aaron raised his eyebrow at the sentence. “Aaron, I may seem rich in heart and spirit, but I share a two-bedroom apartment with my roommate and her boyfriend,”

“I’m not hating, I swear,” Aaron raised his hands in defense. 

“Good. So you’ll come? It’ll be lowkey. Close friends and people we like only. I can even say cameras and no paparazzi for you,” Nelly joked. 

“No, we don’t have to do that,” Aaron shrugged. “I’ll be there,” Nelly clapped happily.

“Great. Bring something strong. And not just yourself,” Nelly stated before walking away.

Aaron shook his head before returning to his trailer so he could leave for the day.

Aaron stared at himself in his apartment mirror, brushing his waves before leaving the bathroom. He looked around his apartment, ensuring he had everything before grabbing the bottle of Whiskey that the liquor store clerk had suggested. He figured it would taste good on his lips and maybe Iriye’s if he got to kiss her again.

Aaron arrived at the apartment building in Culver City and parked his car in the garage, as Nelly had mentioned in her text message. He made his way up to the floor, knocking on the door. It quickly opened, and Nelly smiled, ushering him in. 

“Thanks for coming,” Nelly moved to take the bottle of whiskey from him. “Let me get you a drink,” She said, ushering him to the kitchen, where there was a counter littered with food and drinks.

A dark skin black woman with a curly bob set out plates, smiling as she saw Aaron.

“Tam and Iri should be here in thirty minutes top,” The woman said before leaning over to shake Aaron’s hand. “I’m Cece,”

“Tamara’s girlfriend, right?” Aaron asked, a big smile taking over the infamous Cece’s face.

“Yes. Nice to finally meet you,” Cece stated. “Your picture currently hangs in my home office, which has become Tam’s office. She says she doesn’t believe in bringing work home, and yet it happens,”

“My bad,” Aaron chuckled. Nelly offered to take his jacket, and he handed it to her before making himself a drink. “Anything I can help with?”

“Nothing really, but I appreciate it, and besides, this is your celebration too, as much as theirs,” Cece said. Aaron nodded as Nelly came back into the kitchen.

“Aaron, let me show you off to everyone,” Nelly said, pulling him along. Aaron followed her outside to the rooftop, where at least thirteen other people, different shades of black and brown, were hanging out. Aaron mingled, enjoying the conversations around him and chipping in when he could. It felt good to exist for a moment.

He was chatting with a cinematographer friend of Tamara’s, sharing the last film they watched with good lighting when Cece rushed outside. 

“They’re coming up. Look alive,” Cece said. Aaron moved to crouch somewhere, trying his best not to spill his half-sipped drink, but with his height, he sat on his ass to hide properly.

He listened for the footsteps after a few minutes.

“I better get girlfriend of the year. I drove across town for Cece’s favorite prerolls,” Tamara lamented. Aaron quickly heard Iriye’s laugh, and he smiled to himself.

“Surprise!” Cece called out, everyone joining in. Aaron stood up, a little of his drinking sloshing in the cup. 

Iriye covered her face momentarily, seeing a mix of her and Tamara’s close-knit friends when she put her hands down. Tamara playfully pushed her, looking across the little crowd and seeing Aaron standing amongst people. Her face warmed as she caught him holding his cup up before sipping.

“Babe,” Tamara said, going over to Cece and kissing her. Everyone hooted and hollering at the pair. 

“We just wanted to celebrate you two, the brains behind Lanoire,” Cece said, pulling Iriye in for a side hug and squeezing her side. “Nelly, get up here,”

Nelly headed for Aaron, pulling him through the crowd. “Don’t forget Aaron,” Nelly pulled Aaron beside Iriye before taking Tamara’s side. Iriye masked how aware she was of Aaron’s body close to hers.

Aaron stepped away a little to give the four of them the space, clapping along with everyone for them. Once things died down, Aaron stood off to the side and let them bask in their moment. Aaron was proud to be there, seeing Iriye’s smile as she enjoyed the spotlight.

Throughout the night, he tried to converse politely with others, but his eyes kept returning to Iriye. She had forgone her skirt and shirt for a denim dress, side peeking out from the sides having cutouts. But she still wore the boots from earlier, making her at least two more inches taller than she was. Whenever he tried getting closer to her, someone came up, or a song she loved popped on, watching her dance and sing the lyrics to the music blasting from the rooftop.

Aaron was about to get another drink when another song came on, the beat he enjoyed. 

Iriye rushed to the makeshift dance floor, hips swinging as she felt loose. All week had been something as she and Tamara prepared for the chemistry test. But from what the execs heard afterward, they all loved it. She felt she could breathe, her mind focusing on the man who had been a part of it all: Aaron.

Iriye saw him holding the wall, bouncing his head to it. If it hadn’t been for the shot Nelly gave her and the drink she mixed up, she wouldn’t have kept her eye on him as she danced. And Aaron was meeting her gaze; the two engaged in a stare-off as Iriye rolled her hips in a circle.

“Fuck it,” Aaron said to himself. He downed the rest of his drink before going over to her, two-stepping to the music. The group dancing around her whooped and hollered as Aaron joined. 

Iriye felt too good, watching Aaron enter her space as they moved together. The music was good, and so were the vibes. She caught his eyes, bright and full of energy. Iriye got closer, dancing with him, feeling like they were just the two on the dance floor. 

I need you so much, it scares me 

Hooked on you clearly 

No matter what I do boy, I'm fucked

Kelly Rowland sang from the speakers, and Iriye saw how Aaron matched her energy. She chuckled as she spun in a circle, playfully throwing it back. She saw the light stutter in Aaron’s dance moves and rolled her eyes.

“Can’t keep up,” Iriye taunted with a smirk. Aaron raised an eyebrow at her.

“You play too much,” Aaron threw back.

Aaron reached out for her hand, and he spun her in a circle, her dancing to the beat of the music before moving closer to him, them both moving in sync.

The song ended, and Iriye took a moment to catch her breath as the crowd dispersed around them, smiling at Aaron as she pulled away from him. “I’m getting a drink,” Iriye said, a mischievous sparkle in her eye as she looked at him. 

“I think I need one, too,” Aaron said. Iriye headed back into the apartment, Aaron following right behind her. Luckily, the guise of being thirsty didn’t bring too much attention to them as they were alone in the kitchen. 

Iriye grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, handing one to Aaron.

“Here you go,” Iriye opened hers, watching him as he uncapped his. She took a sip of hers and swallowed it down, her eyes catching the sight of the tattoo peeking out the left sleeve of his shirt. “Nice tattoo,”

Aaron grinned when she peeped at it, seeing the ape on his bicep. “It’s Sonny,” He moved closer, lifting his sleeve to show her. Iriye looked at the tattoo, letting her fingers trace over the skin. He smiled as her fingers were soft against the skin.

“I always wanted a tattoo,” Iriye admitted. “But I don't think I’m patient enough to sit that long and let them stick me with a needle over and over again. But I can appreciate it on others,” She trailed her nails against it, and he groaned a little.

“I get it, but good things come to those who wait,” Aaron replied, taking another sip of his water. “I mean, look at you.”

“Are you talking about the other night?” Iriye said softly. 

“Yes, I am,” Aaron stated. “I can’t stop thinking about it,”

“What part?” She looked at him through her eyelashes.

“When you were on top of me. Quite the image burned into my brain,”

“Me too…” Iriye looked towards the balcony, wondering if anyone could see them.

“Look at me,” Aaron stated. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful of your space. I know I left last time afterward because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. But I want to take whatever this is at your pace. Whatever this is,” He moved his hand to trace up her arm.

“What if I don’t know what is going on between us? Because whenever we’re alone, and there’s alcohol involved, we are too busy kissing each other,” Iriye pointed out. 

“Not right now, though,” Aaron raised an eyebrow at her.

“But I want to kiss you. Since today. Since the last time I kissed you,” Iriye admitted. “Maybe even before that,”

Aaron was about to say something when they heard the door to the balcony open, and he moved beside her. They both watched as one of Iriye’s friends rushed to the bathroom. She chuckled before turning to him, her brown eyes peering up at his.

“Did you drive here?” Iriye asked. Aaron nodded. “Do you think you can drive us to your place?” Aaron straightened up more.

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Aaron grinned.

“Okay. Just give me an hour. I’ll leave, and then five minutes later, you call it a night,” Iriye planned. “I’ll wait for you downstairs,”

“You are full of surprises,” Aaron smirked. 

“We’re two adults consenting to whatever this is,” Iriye stated. She took another sip of her water before heading back to the balcony.

Aaron tried his best not to check his watch too much while mingling with the others, but his eyes sought out Iriye. He found that she was acting wholly unfazed or maybe just good at hiding it. 

As the time ticked away, it was getting harder to focus, especially as he watched her legs in the boots she wore, how he would love to trail his hands up from her boots to her thighs to see how they felt. He wondered how they would look on his shoulders as he did the things he had daydreamed about with her.

He was broken out of his thoughts as he realized Iriye was doing her rounds. He was supposed to listen and wait a few minutes, but based on how she looked, he knew he should have been patient. He was growing impatient. He walked over to Cece and Tamara, who were hugging Iriye. 

“Cece, thank you for the hospitality. I had fun,” Aaron said. Cece moved to hug him, and he saw Iriye’s eyes looking at him. 

“Anytime,” Cece said. Tamara moved to hug him as well. 

“I get it. You’re like a big teddy bear,” Tamara stated as she hugged him.

“Someone smoked a little too much,” Iriye shook her head at her friend.

“I earned it. We earned it,” Tamara stated. 

“You’re not gonna walk out alone, are you?” Cece asked. “Aaron, do you mind walking her out on your way,”

“Not at all,” Aaron nodded, looking at Iriye. Iriye smiled politely before moving to hug them again. 

“Have a good night,” Cece said. Iriye and Aaron walked out of the apartment, Aaron watching her from behind as she went to the elevator.

“I thought we had a plan,” Iriye pressed the button on the elevator. 

“I thought I would hasten the plan,” Aaron shrugged. Iriye shook her head, and then the elevator opened. Aaron let her go in first before following. She pressed the garage button and moved close to Aaron to kiss him…

The door stopped closing due to a hand, and Iriye and Aaron moved apart as quickly as possible. But Nelly was quicker. 

“Your jacket,” Nelly said, her eyes looking between the two. Iriye just stayed on her side of the elevator. Aaron smiled charmingly at Nelly before pushing the elevator door back to grab his jacket. 

“Thanks, Nelly,” Aaron said, hugging her. Iriye moved to hug her next, Nelly chuckling.

“Night, Nelly,” Iriye said as Aaron held the elevator door for them. Nelly stepped back out of the way. Aaron let the elevator doors move as she heard.

“Don’t hurt him, Iriye,” Nelly teased. And the charming smile left Aaron’s face and turned into shock as Iriye chuckled. 

“How did she?” Aaron was shocked. 

“The mirrors,” Iriye tapped the mirror behind them in the elevator. Iriye laid her head back against the mirror. She chuckled as Aaron leaned close to her ear. 

“In any other situation with you, I would be thankful for a mirror,” Aaron said lowly, Iriye's laughter seizing. Oh, she was in for it. AN: Hey... so how we doing after this? @bluewatersfairy @coquitobby @honeysilkandcinnamon @insaneevanity @meleekabenjamin @theogbadbitch @slowlysteadycoffee @ashanti-notthesinger @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @mysticalbiscuitalien3 @irishmanwhore @alonahh @grooveoftiro @gabriellalover @ovohanna24 @ticalsstallion @strawberrymoon45 @hi888888sworld @msuncensered @yurfavdealer @honeys-archives @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @niggaronnn @aritannahrocks1300 @htnqueen305 @333symone @appelle-moi-si-tu-te-perds-numb6 @bombshellbre95 @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

@bae1305 @fakxmbj @n3utral98 @truilyglori @whore-for-loki @wrecklessabandonment @secretlifeoofmarpessa @purpletigerpanda @invertedempress @disc0fairy @barbiezolanski @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @jaszys-fantasy @poshprincess88 @bigestyoutoo @sugarcookie-23 @hxneyclouds @notapradagurl7 @honeys-archives @goldenjasssy @oscarisaaclovebot

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Jamie Beck

Jamie Beck is a photographer residing in Provence, France. Her Tumblr blog, From Me To You, became immensely successful shortly after launching in 2009. Soon after, Jamie, along with her partner Kevin Burg, pioneered the use of Cinemagraphs in creative storytelling for brands. Since then, she has produced marketing and advertising campaigns for companies like Google, Samsung, Netflix, Disney, Microsoft, Nike, Volvo, and MTV, and was included in Adweek Magazine’s “Creative 100” among the industry’s top Visual Artists. In 2022, she released her first book, An American in Provence, which became a NYT Bestseller and Amazon #1 book in multiple categories, and featured in publications such as Vogue, goop, Who What Wear, and Forbes. Flowers of Provence is Jamie’s second book.

Can you tell us about how The Flowers of Provence came to be?

I refer to Provence often as ‘The Garden of Eden’ for her harmonious seasons that bring an ever-changing floral bounty through the landscape. My greatest joy in life is telling her story of flowers through photography so that we may all enjoy them, their beauty, their symbolism, and their contribution to the harmony of this land just a bit longer. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do your photography and writing work together? Do you write as part of your practice?

I constantly write small notations, which usually occur when I am alone in nature with the intention of creating a photograph or in my studio working alone on a still life. I write as I think in my head, so I have made it a very strict practice that when a thought or idea comes up, I stop and quickly write the text in the notes app on my phone or in a pocket journal I keep with me most of the time. If I don’t stop and write it down at that moment, I find it is gone forever. It is also the same practice for shooting flowers, especially in a place as seasonal as Provence. If I see something, I must capture it right away because it could be gone tomorrow. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

You got your start in commercial photography. What’s something you learned in those fields that has served you well in your current creative direction?

I think my understanding of bridging art and commerce came from my commercial photography background. I can make beautiful photographs of flowers all day long, but how to make a living off your art is a completely different skill that I am fortunate enough to have learned by working with so many different creative brands and products in the past. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

Do you remember your first photograph?

Absolutely! I was 13 years old. My mother gave me her old Pentax 35mm film camera to play with. When I looked through the viewfinder, it was as if the imaginary world in my head could finally come to life! I gave my best friend a makeover, put her in an evening gown in the backyard of my parents’ house in Texas, and made my first photograph, which I thought was so glamorous! So Vogue!

You situate your photographic work with an introduction that charts the seasons in Provence through flowers. Are there any authors from the fields of nature writing and writing place that inspire you?

I absolutely adore Monty Don! His writing, his shoes, and his ease with nature and flowers—that’s a world in which I want to live. I also love Floret Flowers, especially on social media, as a way to learn the science behind flowers and how to grow them. 

How did you decide on the order of the images within The Flowers of Provence?

Something I didn’t anticipate with a book deal is that I would actually be the one doing the layouts! I assumed I would hand over a folder of images, and an art director would decide the order. At first, it was overwhelming to sort through it all because the work is so personal, and I’m so visual. But in the end, it had to be me. It had to be my story and flow to be truly authentic. I tried to move through the seasons and colors of the landscape in a harmonious way that felt a bit magical, just as discovering Provence has felt to me. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do you practice self-care when juggling work and life commitments alongside the creative process?

The creative process is typically a result that comes out of taking time for self-care. I get some of my best ideas for photographic projects or writing when I am in a bath or shower or go for a long (and restorative) walk in nature. Doing things for myself, such as how I dress or do my hair and makeup, is another form of creative expression that is satisfying. 

What’s a place or motif you’d like to photograph that you haven’t had a chance to yet?

I am really interested in discovering more formal gardens in France. I like the idea of garden portraiture, trying to really capture the essence and spirit of places where man and nature intertwine. 

Which artists do you return to for inspiration?

I’m absolutely obsessed with Édouard Manet—his color pallet and subject matter. 

What are three things you can’t live without as an artist?

My camera, the French light, and flowers, of course. 

What’s your favorite flower to photograph, and why?

I love roses. They remind me of my grandmother, who always grew roses and was my first teacher of nature. The perfume of roses and the vast variety of colors, names, and styles all make me totally crazy. I just love them. They simply bring me joy the same way seeing a rainbow in the sky does. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 2: Fall is Finally Here

I am simply too busy with worth, family, other hobbies, and life to write about every show in real time anymore. I’m sorry to all the Stray Thoughts readers who’ve reached out about whether I would pick that back up, and I simply just do not have the time to do them anymore. Instead, I’ll try to do one of these as often as I can to catch up on things.

First, let’s go over some shows I finished recently that I don’t think I wrote much about.

First Note of Love

I was so happy to see Michael back on screen, and I was glad to see that he’s still able to get great chemistry with his co-star. Unfortunately, I don’t think this show was very coherent, so I didn’t get a lot out of it emotionally. It was a pretty inoffensive watch overall, and thus an easy show to put on without having to work through too much. I liked the work between everyone, and Mei Lei was such a fun character. Probably won’t return to this one, though. 

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

This is probably the show of the year for me. There’s so much I loved about this show. I loved that the characters had sex, but were neither rewarded nor punished for it; their sex didn’t solve any problems. I also really love how this show explored how childhood trauma expresses in two different kinds of boys, and I love that we got to see a bully reckon with his actions and get closure. I love that this show ended with them being kinda poor, but happy together. I love how messed up they both were about everything. I loved that Juyeong wasn’t stupid, and could read what was going on.

I clearly need to write a separate post to unpack everything I felt in this show.

Let’s move on to what I’m watching currently, in no particular order…starting with the lesbians, and then the worst BLs.

Apple My Love

Genuinely having fun with this GL. I like how quickly most of the drama plays out. It’s giving me quite a bit of secondhand embarrassment, but I like the characterizations in this show. This new production house brought us Knock Knock, Boys! and Monster Next Door this year. We need to keep an eyes on them. 

Haunted Hearts

I’m so fascinated by Oxin Films teaming up with Regal Entertainment. The leads are very attractive, but the cinematography is really boring. I’m trying to stay invested, but it’s kind of a sleepy watch. Also amused that they started airing a ghost romance right after Halloween ended. I’ve kind of moved on emotionally from the season.

My Damn Business

This show could be good, but it’s not. I struggled with episode 5 because our lead looked more relaxed and happier with his senior than the guy he’s getting into a romance with. There’s something missing here in this one, but I can’t exactly put my finger on it. I think it’s primarily a side effect of the short run time, but I think the boss’s interest isn’t landing properly for the employee to respond to. 

Eccentric Romance

This show could be good, but it’s not. Still, I am obsessed with a murder mystery being the primary source of confusion between our leads. I was willing to forgive this show a lot of its rough edges, but it failed to handle the turn from friendship to sexual/romance really well. I feel like our guys just started dating and having sex, and I’m a bit frustrated that they didn’t talk about it really at all, particularly since this show features two different languages spoken on screen. Genuinely looking forward to seeing how this one finishes. 

See Your Love

I’m not sure this show is exactly working that well, but everyone is very pretty and I’m having a decent time watching it. I like the way Shao Peng stands up for himself, and I like that nothing that’s happened has been totally unbelievable or unreasonable (at least with the mains). I’ll be curious how the hard of hearing and deaf viewers respond to this one once it’s complete. 

Love is Like a Poison

This show is actually so funny. I love that Shiba is in his own lawyer genre separate from everyone else, and I really like how the two of these guys have become a team. I’m curious how they manage to resolve the scamming next week, but this has been the most unexpected dynamic of the year. 

Love in the Air: Koi no Yukon

MAME won this year, y’all. We all have complicated feelings about her, but she’s secured a loving adaptation from a Japanese team that’s put solid effort into bringing her characters to life. Every character feels correct compared to their Thai counterpart we saw on screen, and that’s a strong sign that the writing behind MAME’s work is strong, even if we all have issues with the way she tackles certain themes. I’m really impressed with this adaptation, and really like this version of Rain.I also feel like this show is doing a better job blending the forthcoming couple focus shift.

Our Youth

We just got this show, but damn does it feel sharp! I’m always going to be a sucker for a cinephile character, and I’m so compelled by the way Minase is drawn to Hirukawa. The scene in episode 2 where Minase has to leave Hirukawa’s house might be one of the most impressive sequences we’ve had in a while, requiring a great deal of choreography and effort from the actors and the camera crew to pull off, and I’m excited to see how these characters split and then come back together. 

Smells Like Green Spirit

Let me just say that I need another Abe Alan appearance when he isn’t playing a character doing horrible things to his students. I’ve enjoyed meditating on the 90s with this show and what that era felt like. I’ve liked how the show has tried to focus on how different parents (especially the moms) have responded to their kids coming to terms with themselves. I’ve also really enjoyed the friendship that’s grown between Mishima and Kirino. I’m struggling with Yumeno a lot, because I’m really not a friend of bully romances. Still, I feel like this is one of those shows I’ll remember for a long time because of its focus on the 90s. 

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days

I think @lurkingshan covered reactions to episode 5 and episode 6 better than I could, and I loved @twig-tea giving context for the film history moment in episode 6. I remember screaming into the chat for friends to show up for this when I got to that moment. This show has two great pairs of dynamics going on that mirror well. It’s got such a strong handle on its characters’ motivations and how they would respond to the actions from each other. It’s probably the tightest thing I’m watching now, backed by extremely dialed-in performances. I will be thinking about Qi Lu organizing his potential first kiss with Qin Xiao, and how unapologetic he’s been about the entire affair. He’s being selfish here, but I kinda like it. I’m so thankful that we are somehow still getting this show, because goddamn do the Chinese actors deliver on chemistry sometimes.

Interview With the Vampire Season 2

I finished this with a friend last week, and holy fuck is this show still so, so good. We watch a lot of gay romance because of BL, and I am having so much fun watching the show about gay divorce. I loved the time we spent in Paris, Daniel’s shifting role in the narrative, and the new insights we got into Lestat this season. I will miss Claudia so much, and I have to give a standing ovation to Delainey Hayles stepping into the role of Claudia and doing the damn thing this season. I just love seeing my little fucked up gay people torment each other on screen.

I'm still thinking about Louis and Lestat reuniting in a hurricane after Claudia derided this as yet another chapter in their stormy romance.

Dropped Shows

Unfortunately, everyone can’t win. Some of these shows are just too long for me to keep up with them, and oftentimes I get bored. I’ve currently dropped:

Lovesick 2024 - I may go back. We’ll see

Jack & Joker - It’s just too long, and they just killed Jennie and a kid. I’m good.

Fourever You - I’m bored with Earth always playing this character type.

Pluto - Namtam and Film are beautiful, but this looks too messy right now.

Every You, Every Me - Wasn’t intrigued after episode 1, but the commentary may draw me back.

Kidnap - Ohm is not enough to keep me invested in this show. 

Uncle Unknown - How did they make a 6 minute show feel slow?

I’m genuinely not trying to be harsh to Thai shows out here, but I just do not have the time to keep up with all of them when they’re this long and dragging.

Thanks for stopping by, and let me know if there’s something I missed that I should check out.

[firadessa]

Mark Cote Info Reveal- Silvermist's Quest

(Long Post Warning)

Me and a few friends are doing our own searches for information on the elusive Tinker Bell draft. We were able to secure an interview with Mark Cote, who was on the film for both a 2d and 3d version. Unfortunately, we were not able to save many recordings in good quality and mine has no audio. I also failed to transcribe our meeting, but hopefully this will not be our only meeting.

Before the original movie was put into 3D, it had several character quests all linked to the narrative to save Neverland. I thought it would be like Disneytoon's failed Enchanted Tales series, but unlike Enchanted Tales or Cinderella 2 the segments wouldn't be so self contained. It was like the movie Fantasia, but connected through a larger plot. There would also be a ticking time bomb in the form of the worlds of the mainland and Neverland combining due to the theft of pixie dust by Tinker Bell and friends before they earned it messing up the natural order. He told us that all 5 character quests would have to be approved by management, so he experienced delays in production. Several quests were greenlit but they had a hard time when they got to Silvermist and Iridessa.

We asked in a riddle, what brings water life? It took a while to get an answer, but @princessquinnella was reminded of water fairies in the books. The thing is though, Silvermist was conceived pretty differently from Rani. Despite being a water fairy, she was a repressive and pragmatic character. If you had a Disney Fairies DVD that came with the toys, you might remember the line "Still waters run deep" in reference to Silvermist. The pond and lotus where she lived, is implied to be "Stillwater Springs" or Lilypad Pond from what we know. x Here is the description from the illusive "pitch book"

Firstly, Mark told us for this "epic story" Silvermist's quest would be next to last. None of the fairies can fly because of the magic has dissipated. The story starts in her home of Stillwater Springs/Lilypad Pond, she creates a magical cloud named Tempest to fly. Tempest is an opposite to SIlvermist, he's a joyful and free spirited cloud like a impish child. Like in the final cut, there are 4 seasonal areas? There would be 5 themed areas in Pixie Hollow where each fairy lived. Many inanimate things live here in this word inspired by Art Nouveau.

She needs to fly on Tempest to reach the "water of life", and she travels to Pixie Hollow in a harsh desert area. She has a small glass vile to collect the "water of life" and flies over the stretch of desert looking everywhere. There's a color script of this segment somewhere on AODF (dont know where to link), where it is blurry and you can see the desert.

Silvermist and Tempest even meet other clouds on their journey, but they are grumpy and stern adult clouds.

Here, on the color guide- we see things a bit different. There seems to be some sort of snowdrop-esque flower in place of Tempest- but also some clouds, so I'm not sure what it could be.

Silvermist has been in the sky for a while now in this desert, but cannot find the water of life. Suddenly! Tempest, the child cloud starts to die. Silvermist is scared, because her friend is dying and she hasn't found the water of life. She sits down defeated... and starts to cry.

He showed us a piece I am very familiar with:

It is then, when she is at her lowest- when she cries... Tempest is resurected, and she is able to save her friend and collect the Water of Life, the quest item she needs to save Pixie Hollow.

Lastly, I should say the desert like areas in Pixie Hollow remind me of the elusive art from the mysterious artbook "The Art of Judith Holmes Clarke" (excuse quality, its a short frame in an IG video)

Now it's time for the next quest to reveal information about, there should be 2 left with more info to share with you...

This one shall be fill in the blank:

"------ is the key that opens every door."

Fly with you later!

[inmyicyworld]

Personal pillow

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft.

Words count: 1.7K

Warnings: none

Author's note: idk how I feel about it, but i've been thinking about clingy/soft Bucky for way too long, so here you go🫡

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

Bucky Barnes wasn't the most affectionate and nice person on earth. Always grumpy and with an attitude, didn’t like physical touch, and hated being vulnerable and soft. However, when you were alone in your room, he was a completely different man. 

The only thing that he loved more than you, food, and old music was sleep. He hated it right after the Winter Soldier program was removed because of the violent and dark nightmares, but you were the solution to all of his problems. 

He loved sleeping with you. On you, to be exact.

He accidentally discovered it once when he just threw himself onto your bed and somehow laid with his head on your stomach. 

You didn't know why your boyfriend liked it so much, but since that day he always ended up on your stomach, your boobs, or between your thighs with hands wrapped around your body, and it was almost impossible to drag him away. You always ran your fingers through his fluffy hair in soothing motions to ease the tension in his body, and it worked every single time. Bucky slept like a baby in your arms. 

Today he left early in the morning for training with Sam, but then he had a lot of paper work and something that needed to be done in the city, so you didn’t really talk to or see him. He only left a kiss on your forehead while you were still in bed and sent you a few messages throughout the day. 

It was your day off, and you didn’t feel like doing anything special or being productive. So you brought a fluffy comforter from your bed, a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in the common room to watch a movie on a big ass screen that Tony bought to show off.

When the film almost ended and you were already kind of sleepy, you heard firm footsteps from the hall. The tall and big body was standing in the doorframe, but you didn’t see your boyfriend’s face yet; it was pretty dark in the room.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” You paused your movie and squinted to see Bucky. 

“Fucking amazing. A bunch of assholes and tons of reports that they sent me last minute.” He grumbled, coming closer to you. “Let’s go, I need my personal pillow or I won’t fall asleep.” 

You tried to hold back a laugh when you finally saw his face. Tired and frowned with pouty lips like a child. Bucky was painfully cute when he was a little bit mad and annoyed, and you didn’t want to do anything more than pinch his cheeks and kiss all of his face.

“You look so cute, gosh.” You smiled, biting your lip. “But I have only... fifteen minutes of my movie left, and I really want to finish it today. Do you want to lay on me here for now?” You opened the covers and pointed at your belly. 

Bucky stood there silently for a few seconds, still with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want these douchebags to see us here.”

“They won’t; Steve is on the mission, Natasha is already in her room, and Sam went on a date. C’mon, I’ll massage your head.” That was everything you needed to convince your boyfriend to give up. He took off his shoes and laid on top of you with his head on your stomach and hands around your waist. 

You covered your bodies with a duvet and stroked his hair, brushing it over and over again with your fingers. You felt that Bucky pulled up your shirt a little bit, and as soon as his cheek met with your warm skin, he heavily sighted, finally feeling safe and calm.

“That's okay, baby.” You cooed, massaging his scalp. “Do you want to talk about your day? What made you upset?” 

“No, just want to feel you, doll. Missed you so much.” He mumbled against your stomach and closed his eyes as your soft touches made his body almost melt into yours. 

“I missed you too. I’ll just finish my film and we’ll go to sleep, ‘kay?” Bucky just slightly nodded, already feeling too sleepy to actually say something. 

It didn’t take him too much time to fall asleep completely. Your gentle scratches and the way you rolled his hair around your finger, along with the muffled sound of the TV and soft cover on top of him, did their work, and Bucky was peacefully snoring on you in a span of a few seconds. 

You weren’t much better than him; your eyes started closing as soon as the credit scene began, and you didn’t have enough power in you to resist it, especially when a giant, hot human pillow was sleeping on top of you. 

So you just gave up. 

The first thing that you heard when you woke up was mumbled talk and laughter. Your eyes snapped open because your brain completely forgot that you, in fact, weren’t in your room or bed.

The common room was filled with almost everyone. For fuck’s sake, when was the last time you saw that many Avengers together in one room? And now all of them were sitting on the other couches and armchairs, looking at you and laughing. Well, they weren’t looking at you; they were looking at Bucky, who was still glued to your body. 

You quickly sat straight, now completely awake. The movements disturbed Bucky’s peaceful sleep, making him grumble and try to get you back under him.

“I didn’t know that Cyborgs could be so clingy.” The most annoying voice Bucky could’ve possibly heard in the morning filled his ears, and he lost every last piece of sleep in his body, sitting up on the couch. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Willson? All of you, in fact.” Bucky looked around the room, seeing Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, and Clint with shit-eating smirks on their faces; Thor, who looked just happy to be involved; and Steve and Bruce, who actually felt uncomfortable to be there.

“Sorry, Buck, they just...” Steve wanted to apologize but was disturbed by Tony.

“Sam just told all of us to come here a few minutes ago because he had something hilarious. And look! The strong and scary Winter Soldier is being a softie for his girlfriend.” Tony laughed, almost dropping his cup of coffee. You didn’t even expect that, but you felt a sudden wave of anger going through your body because you were already sick of everyone pushing Bucky’s buttons. 

“Or maybe all of you should just mind your own business? You both would actually know something about Bucky if you tried anything besides making fun of him or trying to get him angry. You don’t even understand how fucking hard it is for him to communicate after everything that happened, and all of you are getting on my nerves. Just a bunch of children, I swear.” You growled, standing up and grabbing Bucky’s hand to drag him away. 

Everyone was surprised by your words, and even Bucky looked at you with a weird expression on his face but still stood up, holding your hand. 

“Sweets, it’s just a joke—” Natasha started.

“No, it’s not. I love you, Nat, I really do, but it’s not funny.” You looked around the room. “Y’all probably don’t understand the effect that your words  have, but I see in private what none of you can. And when I tell you that your mockery and jokes make everything worse, I really mean it.” Bucky awkwardly shifted near you under all of the eyes that were glued to him. He felt exposed by the way everyone saw how he showed his affection to you and that he, in fact, was a really touchy and sensitive person. “C’mon, Buck, everything’s okay.” You looked back at him with your usual soft eyes, and his whole attention was now focused completely on you. 

Everyone saw how Bucky’s body language changed when you talked to him, and even if someone like Tony or Sam couldn’t admit it out loud, the thought of being too harsh on Bucky appeared in their heads. 

Without any further words, you lead your boyfriend out of the common room, leaving the Avengers in an awkward silence. 

The comfort of your and Bucky’s shared room made you deeply inhale as soon as the door was closed behind you two. Before you could even say something, two strong hands wrapped around you from the back, and Bucky buried his face into your neck.

“Thank you, doll.” Your hand reached behind you to gently stroke Bucky's hair. “You didn’t have to do it, really. I got used to their words.” He squeezed you tighter, pressing his chest into your back.

“That’s not okay, baby. I’m sick of that. You may not say it to me or even admit it to yourself, but I see that it hurts you.” You turned around in his hands, placing your own on both sides of his face. “But that’s okay that you want to cuddle, to sleep on me, to be held. Really. There is nothing wrong with it. I’m really honored to be the person who is allowed to see your soft side.”

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, doll, you can’t even fucking imagine,” Bucky whispered before leaning forward to kiss you.

“I love you, James.”

“Can we stay here today? I don’t really want to talk with anyone besides my sweet and protective girl.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his teasing tone. 

“Of course we can, Buck.” That was your last word before Bucky lifted you off the ground, put you on the soft blankets of your bed, and climbed on top of you, happily wrapping around your body and falling asleep. 

[seungrem]

Han Jisung x m!reader

‘Close Enough’ ~*+

summary: Before leaving for the day, han asks reader to check a supposed injury that he has. While examining the boy, reader uncovers his true intentions.

( normal smut, top!han x bttm!reader, intern!reader x idol!han, mutual feelings/crush )

a/n: posting this just to hold u guys over until i finish part 2 of chan’s fic :))

emoji code:

🌱 ( oneshot / short fic - around 3k words )

❄️ ( smut, minors DNI, 18+ )

☁️ ( y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

After an easy day of wrapping up a project, it was now 2 am- meaning that ☁️ could finally go home. A member of the staff, the boy quickly assisted his team in packing up their equipment from the home.

Though the majority of the staff began to leave, ☁️ decided to check in with each member before he left as well. Saying his goodbyes to all but one, the boy approached the last room down the hall. ☁��� slowly drew closer to the door, knocking lightly. While waiting for a response, he repositioned the bag around his shoulder to sit comfortably.

“Han? Are you in here?” ☁️ opened the door, slowly inching into the room. A dim, orange lamp was on, but there was no sign of the idol. He looked around the room to make sure Han wasn’t hiding, which he’d done many times before.

After seeing no sign of him, ☁️ turned around and walked back out of the room. He slowly pulled the door, walking out with his back against the hallway and shutting it lightly.

“What are you doing?” Han asked with a bit of confusion. In the distance, ☁️ turned to see Han put a hand into his grey jeans, though his black shirt was barely visible due to the hallway’s dimness. Han raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Ah, I was looking for you. I wanted to check in with everyone before I left.”

“There is something I need you to check.. but most of the other staff left, and the members are sleeping. I don’t wanna make you stay later.”

“Oh, no, I honestly don’t mind. What is it that you need?” ☁️ watched as Han walked towards him, the idol then grabbing his hand as he walked past. Han placed the boy’s hand on his chest as the two sat on the idol’s bed. As the door slowly closed itself, ☁️ looked at the boy in confusion.

“I hurt myself today while filming. Do you remember when I.. you know..”

☁️ nodded and would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so flustered. That orange hue glistening across the side of Han’s face made it too easy to admire him.

“So.. would you mind getting rid of the knot in my chest?”

☁️ tilted his head in confusion. “I don’t think it’s possible to get a knot in your chest, Han. Are you sure it’s a knot..?”

Using his own hand, Han directed ☁️’s hand around his chest. The boy felt two large bumps, but he was sure it was just Han showing off his pec muscles. Remembering the incident from earlier, through, ☁️ thought about how hard Han had actually fallen.

“I’m sure, when I landed I hit my chest.. Please, it hurts, ☁️.” Han practically whined at this point, and it wasn’t like ☁️ didn’t believe him. He released his hand from Han’s grasp, thinking about the different medical products that he had in his bag. Pulling it off his shoulder, he dug his hand into the pocket to find the analgesic (pain relieving) cream.

“I have topical analgesic in my bag. Let me rub it on so the pain goes away.” ☁️ twisted his torso to face the rest of the bed, taking things out of the bag until he found the cream that he was looking for. ☁️ felt Han’s gaze as he took out a small tube.

“Anal- what?”

“What?” ☁️ stopped what he was doing to look over at Han, visibly baffled. The idol gave the boy next to him a suggestive smirk.

“You want it?”

“Han, what the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shut up and lay back.” ☁️ instructed as he took the tube from out of his bag. Han climbed onto the bed, him then taking his shirt off. The boy’s skin was smooth, but his body was much more toned than ☁️ thought. The orange lamp’s soft glow against the room’s dimness made Han’s abs seemingly pop out of his stomach. His pecs were noticeably large, too, with a noticeable bruise on the left muscle.

Shaking his head, ☁️ climbed onto the bed- only an inch or two next to Han. ☁️ sat on his knees as he spread the cream on his hands, and then across Han’s pec. Han couldn’t help but smile as he felt ☁️’s fingertips softly brush against his chest.

“Am I hurting you?” ☁️ asked as he continued to focus on the pec muscle.

“Nah, you’re making me feel really good.” Han said, placing a hand behind his head. After a minute, Han’s skin absorbed the cream and there was nothing else to rub in.

“All good?” ☁️ asked, him looking up from the bruise to the boy’s smiling face.

“I think something else hurts too, ☁️.”

“What hurts, Han?” ☁️ asked, rolling his eyes. He knew he was falling victim to the idol’s charm.

“Could you feel right here?” Han flexed his right arm and used his left hand to point at the muscle. ☁️ huffed, though he placed a leg over Han’s waist with a smile. He leaned over Han’s upper body while feeling the bicep.

“Feels normal, Han..”

“Oh.. How about you feel right there? That seems sore..” Han looked down at where ☁️ sat on top of him.

“Here?” ☁️ placed both of his hands over Han’s abs.

“Nahh, lower.”

☁️ moved his hands down to Han’s jean button. “Here?”

Han smirked and placed both hands behind his head. “Close enough.”

☁️’s body turned hot as he slowly unbuttoned Han’s jeans. With help, ☁️ pulled the boy’s jeans down and yanked them off, him throwing them aside. He took his own pants off, then climbed back on the bed to hover over Han.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” ☁️ asked, placing a hand on each side of Han’s head. Han placed his hands on Car’s waist as the two locked eyes.

“How about I check you out, hm? I’ll make sure there aren’t any bruises that I need to take care of.” Han tugged at ☁️’s top, helping him take it off to expose more of his skin. Han felt up the boy’s torso carefully as ☁️ placed himself on Han’s waist again. The boy slowly rubbed against the bulge he sat on as Han looked at him expectantly.

“Maybe there’s one thing you can help me with.”

☁️ lifted his ass off of Han, twisting his head and torso to look behind him. He lifted his left ass cheek up with his hand, Han noticing and grinning. The idol licked his lips as he lifted his upper body from the bed. Grabbing both of ☁️’s asscheeks, he placed kisses along the boy’s neck and chest.

“If you bend over,.. then I’d really be able to help you.” Han whispered between kisses. With ☁️ already whimpering at the sensations, he immediately did as suggested. The boy lifted his legs over Han to turn his body around. After, ☁️ softly placed his head on the bed, him then raising his ass in front of Han.

The two now in their underwear, Han lifted his entire body to kneel behind ☁️. The idol pushed the erection in his boxers into ☁️’s ass, brushing against it slowly. He placed a hand on each side of the boy’s hips, vigorously gripping them. Too horny to think, ☁️ couldn’t help but whimper as he pushed his ass into Han’s erection.

“Is that where you want me to relieve your pain? Seems like it hurts pretty bad..” Han slipped his hands down into ☁️’s underwear, fondling his asscheeks.

“Just hurry up.” ☁️ muttered as he reached behind him, pulling his underpants down to his knees. He looked behind him as Han fumbled with a bottle of liquid and small square wrapper. Han rubbed the liquid on his fingers, then across ☁️’s asshole, it dripping down. ☁️ yelled out when Han shoved two of his fingers in directly after, slowly moving them back and forth.

“Ah- You couldn’t warn me?”

“You said to hurry.”

Han’s snarky response caused ☁️ to roll his eyes and rest his head on the bed again. He lightly moaned as Han continued to slowly finger him, though he quickly became impatient.

“Han, just put it in.” He mumbled, though Han grinned at the instruction.

“If you say so.”

Han pulled his fingers out of ☁️’s ass, and quickly yanked his underwear off. ☁️ turned his head to admire Han’s muscular body as it lined up behind him, the boy turning him on even more. ☁️ felt Han put the tip of his dick against his hole. Without warning, Han shoved his entire length into ☁️, causing the boy to cry out in pain. The idol leaned over the boy to cover his mouth. He rested his chest against ☁️’s back, placing his mouth beside the boy’s ear.

“Not so loud, I don’t wanna share that moan with the other members.”

“Why’d you shove it all in?” ☁️ whispered on the verge of tears.

“You asked.”

Han lifted his body off of ☁️’s back, his hands gripping the boy’s hips again. He pulled out slowly, moving his dick in and out so that ☁️ could get used to it. ☁️ continued to moan out as Han’s big dick stretched his hole with each stroke.

“Good?” Han placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Yea,” ☁️ responded, still whimpering.

Han pulled his dick almost all the way out, and paused. Wondering why he stopped, ☁️ felt another hand grab his shoulder. Just as the boy was about to turn around, Han thrusted his dick entirely into ☁️ again, making him yelp. He continuing fucking ☁️ quickly, causing the boy to release loud moans. Han covered his mouth with one of his hands, the sound of ☁️’s ass clapping against his hips making him go feral.

☁️’s legs spread apart as Han continued to thrust into him, with muffled whimpers filling the silence. Han finally began to slow down, him releasing his grasp on ☁️’s face. The two caught their breaths as ☁️ pushed Han’s dick out of him.

Han laid in front of ☁️ on the bed, wrapping an arm around the boy. “Did that help, or do I need to try something else?”

☁️ still catching his breath, he pulled Han’s face into his, the two locking lips. As they sloppily made out, Han lifted the boy up and off the bed. ☁️ wrapped his legs around the idol as they continued to stick their tongues into each other’s mouths.

Han walked to the other end of the bed, the two separating their faces as he placed ☁️ down in between the pillows. The idol climbed on top of him, the two rolling over so that Han now laid with his back on the bed. ☁️ sat on top of Han again, grabbing his dick and placing it in between his asscheeks. Han helped push down ☁️’s thighs as his dick went all the way inside of the boy.

☁️ moaned out loudly as he began riding the boy under him. He placed both of his hands on Han’s chest as he hopped up and down. Han smiled as he squeezed ☁️’s asscheeks in response, directing them up and down as he rode him.

After speeding up and slowing down, ☁️ leaned over to make out with Han. The idol moved his hands from the boy’s ass to his chin, holding his face as the two kissed.

☁️ lifted their faces apart, him then running a hand through Han’s hair. The idol pushed the boy closer to leave hickeys on his neck, him then kissing his collarbone.

As ☁️ leaned over Han, the idol thrusted his waist upward, shoving his big dick back into ☁️. Out of breath and a moaning mess, ☁️ placed his hands on each side of Han’s head and took the dick that Han was shoving inside of him. Han’s waist clapped against ☁️’s ass as he thrusted into him, each one becoming more aggressive and sloppier than the last. Han’s big dick and grin were making ☁️ leak despite him not stroking.

“It’s my turn to give you cream.” Han whispered hazily as he threw ☁️ off of his dick. ☁️ fell on his back, watching as Han climbed back on top of the him. The idol stroked his dick aggressively as he leaned over and shoved his tongue into ☁️’s mouth. ☁️ wrapped an arm around Han’s neck as the idol stroked his big dick, Han’s chest brushing against his. Using his free hand, ☁️ jacked his off too.

After a minute, Han’s muffled breath became whimpers, him throwing his head back as he came all over ☁️’s stomach. The idol stroked over ☁️ some more before collapsing on top of the boy. Han rested his chin in the boy’s shoulder, laying all of his weight on top of ☁️.

“Think that took care of those knots?” ☁️ asked as he stroked Han’s hair. The boy’s legs were spread apart as Han’s twitching dick rested in between them.

“Close enough,” Han muttered, his face pressed into the bedsheets. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

☁️ smiled at the comment and continued to play with the boy’s hair. “Don’t make these little injuries a habit.”

“Why not, don’t you like me, too?” Han questioned, his voice still muffled by the sheets.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seemed you really liked helping me out with my bruise, either way.”

Han lifted his body off of ☁️, rolling over and dragging the boy with him. ☁️ was now laying on top of the idol, the two locking eyes.

“Maybe next time you can me out instead.”

“I see a bruise on your neck, so.. how about tomorrow?” Han smiled as he placed his hands on ☁️’s ass, fondling his cheeks. ☁️ smiled back bashfully, giving the boy a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe.”

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: old draft, hope u enjoyed :) since u guys want part 2 of chan’s fic so badly i’ll start working on it ♡

[triptychgrip]

Viktor and Yuuri Answer The Web's Most Searched Questions

“I’m Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov!”

“And I’m Yuuri Katsuki Nikiforov!”

They turn to look at each other and grin, attempting to speak in unison.

“And this is the WIRED Autocomplete Interview.”

They’re a little off on the wording, but what is simultaneous is the way they break out into giggles right after saying ‘interview’. It’s only been a few seconds since the cameras have begun rolling, and Viktor is already feeling charmed by the pink tint staining his husband’s cheeks.

“Aww, and we even practiced that a few times!” Yuuri says, now donning a cute little pout.

“It was my fault,” Viktor automatically pipes up, before letting his heart-shaped smile take over his face. “I started speaking a half-beat too late because I was too busy admiring your pretty eyes, love.”

Giggles and hushed whispers immediately break out on the WIRED filming set, but Viktor only has eyes for the way Yuuri’s lips instantly morph, curving into a pleased, albeit shy smile. 

“You’re sweet, Vitya,” he murmurs, before reaching over to hold his hand. 

There’s not much space between them to begin with on the bench they’re seated on, but Yuuri closes that miniscule gap so that their thighs are pressed right up against each other. Viktor hopes the audience is grateful; the slight tension his love is now holding in his leg will give the cameras a nice view of his immaculate, muscular thighs, outfitted in the sleek trackpants that Mizuno specifically designed for him. (After some sleuthing, Phichit had informed the two of them that Kenjirou had gone ahead and bought four different pairs.)

Nyala – the WIRED production assistant in charge of this episode taping – then hands them the show’s distinctive looking question tableau. On it, are Google’s top ten most searched questions containing their names. They’re partially covered, which adds to the fun: they’ll be taking turns reading them aloud, while unpeeling the adhesive covering to reveal each query.

As they’d agreed earlier, he will read and answer the first question, so Yuuri holds the board steady.

“What did Yuuri and Viktor…”

Viktor pauses to draw out the suspense, and then whips off the adhesive in one rapid motion, his enthusiasm almost causing Yuuri to topple over.

“Oops! Sorry, Yuranya!” he exclaims, feeling a bit flustered as he helps his spouse right himself and presses a kiss to his temple. 

Nyala’s eyes are glittering with amusement, so he aims a sheepish smile at her before facing forwards.

“What did Yuuri and Viktor do before they met?” he reads off, feeling quite pleased with this clear opportunity to extol Yuuri’s praises (and, additionally, to lambast certain International Skating Union officials for not recognizing how talented he was prior to that silver medal win at the Barcelona Grand Prix Final).

“Well, the short answer is that we were both competitive figure skaters, but the long answer is more interesting! Let’s start with my Yuuri, because my side of things is boring, not to mention quite sad,” he chirps, not even batting an eye when his husband begins to splutter in protest next to him (“Vitya! Five gold medals at World’s is not sad!”)

But Viktor feigns an inability to hear Yuuri’s counter, and whips his phone out. 

One of the first things he’d done after they’d met at the banquet was to look up as many of Yuuri’s Senior division competitions as he could, hungry to expand his personal archives with any video or photos he could get his hands on. By now, his love is aware of his meticulous culling efforts, because he wears a pained expression as Viktor begins to talk and flip through his photo gallery.

“Where to even begin?” he says, allowing his voice to slide into that grandiose tone that Yurio claims “makes you seem even more punchable than normal”.

“Since we only have an hour for this taping, I will unfortunately have to limit myself to the year of Yuuri’s skating career before he and I met,” he continues on, making sure his annoyance is plain. “And, for those that don’t know, we met in December 2015 at the Sochi Grand Prix Final.”

It’s a testament to their many years of being together, because Yuuri doesn’t even tense at the mention of Sochi. He knows Viktor would never try to embarrass him by contextualizing the event in a way that makes him uncomfortable, and, besides, his spouse now shares the opinion that pole-dancing into your soulmate’s life is a pretty badass meet-cute. Even so, it had taken awhile to convince Yuuri’s anxiety of this, and Viktor owes a lot to their couples’ therapist for that mindset change. 

“Look at this picture of my beautiful Yuuri on the podium at Four Continents’ in February 2015!” he exclaims in triumph, holding his phone up so that the camera operator gets a perfect view. 

Taken in Seoul’s Mokdong Ice Rink is a photo of an adorable, 22-year-old Katsuki Yuuri, wearing a shy smile and holding a bronze medal. Next to him is an obviously ecstatic Celestino Cialdini.

“Now, no offense to anyone, but take it from me: my husband was severely underscored at that competition and should have been standing higher on that podium. Well before he ever broke my World’s winning streak, Yuuri was commanding audiences the world over with his stunning artistry. Particularly, his dazzling interpretation skills,” Viktor states declaratively, his tone brooking no argument.

Well, almost no argument. 

Yuuri makes a barely perceptible noise of disagreement, but it’s enough to make him turn and bestow his most unimpressed expression onto him, as if daring him to issue a rebuttal. 

“Something to say, Yusha?” Viktor prompts, a bit goadingly. “Do you wish to argue with “Living Legend” Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, who, I daresay, might know a little something or two about judging politics and biased scoring?”

His love gives him a light smack on the bicep, and when he replies, his tone is prim.

“If you want biased scoring to be the focus of this question, then I’ll have to bring up your European Championships score from 2013, where you were unfairly beat out for gold by our good friend, Christophe Giacometti.”

An “oooohing” sort of taunting sound ripples around the set, but far from flustering Yuuri, he just raises a brow and sets his jaw. (Viktor feels quite turned on at the look, as well as his protective instincts.)

“I know how the internet loves to spin things but there’s nothing to spin,” Yuuri continues, dryly. “Christophe, himself, made a big stir at the post-skate press conference about judging bias, and he still regularly tweets at the officials from that competition…so much so, that two of them have blocked him on Twitter.”

Viktor gasps with delight at the memory of this juicy event and his spouse’s answering smirk is all the permission he needs.

“Ok, let me set the scene for you all!” he eagerly volunteers, sitting up straighter on the bench. 

He makes a big show of clearing his throat and Nyala – who, evidently, has the patience of a saint – hides her smile behind her hand. It’s a wonder that she hasn’t redirected their attention back to the question list, yet.

“January 2013: Zagreb, Croatia,” he continues on, in the grave “I’m narrating a documentary” tone that he knows will make Yuuri laugh. “Twenty-three-year old Viktor Nikiforov takes his starting position on the ice of Dom Sportova arena. Unlike present-day, his hair is much more lustrous, and he has not yet needed to start using thickening oil as part of his nightly primping regimen.”

Yuuri smacks his bicep a second time.

—

Hope you enjoyed this ficlet! I adore writing post-canon interview/game content featuring sappy/extra married Viktuuri, so if I get the energy (and need the distraction from my WIPS *nervous laughter*) I may expand this into a proper fic.

If you’re also a fan of this type of thing, you may like my story on ao3 featuring their joint appearance on Vanity Fair’s Lie Detector Game series. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written :)  

[zombii-ships]

SDJ BOYS: KINK HEADCANNONS

sorry if these are ooc i was just brainstorming and bein a horny nerd

Jack

-World’s biggest breeding kink. Dude’s absolutely got a huge thing for claiming his partner, and he loves to watch his cum spill back out of them.

-Praise. PRAISE HIM. PLEASE. Tell him how good he makes you feel and he’s over the fucking moon. He’s so motivated by praise, the simplest “you’re making me feel so good” is gonna flip such a switch in his head.

-Makeup/Body Paint. Whether it’s seeing his partner in clown paint, painting their body and feeling them up, his own makeup smearing on them, or theirs running on their face, he loves it. Jack’s immediately down for round two if he catches a glimpse of his partner’s liner/lipstick on his chest.

-Foodplay. You thought whipped cream was just for the pancakes? Surprise surprise!

Joseph

-Size Difference. Loves feeling big compared to his partner, whether he’s topping or bottoming, he loves the difference. Loves seeing his partner in his clothes, especially his jackets and pajama pants. Put on something of his and its gonna ignite something in him.

-Voice Kink. He LOVES getting to hear his partner, if they make a noise while they stretch? He’s horny. Moan? Horny. Whisper in his ear? Horny. So so easily stirred if he’s the one who gets you to make noise for him, too~

-Hickies. MARK. HIM. UP. PLEASE. Dude absolutely loves getting to show off what his partner did to him, he wears them like badges of honor.

-Bonus, I know he’s an absolute FIEND for giving head and he loves just knowing that he’s pleasuring his partner. Dude’s a total pleasure top.

Shaun

-A nut for roleplay. Pet/Owner, Slasher/Final Survivor, Vampire/Prey, whatever, dude LOVES playing a little horny pretend with his partner.

-Masks. Ghostface, leatherface, pyramid head, gas masks, he loves the mystery there and he finds it really hot. Goes along with his roleplay kink, but either way, he’s super into it.

-Exhibitionism. Give him the go to make porn of yall and he’s gonna go nuts. Something about filming the deed or just you getting off turns him tf ON. Plus if he can go back and show you the footage?? “Look how pretty you looked here. Fuck- lemme rewind so I can hear that sound again~”

-Monster/Abnormal Toys. What’s a horror junkie without some monster dildos??

Nick

-Begging. Beg HIM. Beg him for whatever, doesn’t even have to be sexual, he just loves it. He just wants to hear you pleading with him, asking for his permission.

-Shibari. Let him make your body into art. The more intricate the better. Whether it’s simple ties or a whole full body production, it’s the artistry and the restraint that really gets him, plus seeing you wrapped up for the taking isn’t half bad either. Bonus points if he gets to do pretty harnesses and collars ✨

- Waxplay/Temperature Play. You or him, but mainly you I think. You’re the canvas and he’s the painter, and he’s obsessed with how you let him paint you. Whether it be pretty dark colored wax, gently touching you with ice, or just warm hands against your skin, he loves your reactions, watching you squirm between the different sensations.

-Oral Fixation. Don’t suck on his fingers unless you wanna rile his ass up

Ian

-Cosplay/Costumes. IF YOU LET HIM DRESS YOU UP he’s going to go absolutely feral. Ian’s a fashion fan, so seeing you in something he specifically coordinated to look good on you and to his personal tastes would have him going over the deep end. He’s literally obsessed.

-Blindfolds. Now I know he’s scared of being left alone, but I think he’d enjoy the rush of giving up control to you like that, letting you touch and trail over his body without knowing what’s next would have him super sensitive and needy in seconds. Plus if you let him blindly roam his hands over you?? He’s about to get SO handsy.

-Also a roleplay guy. He’s an actor, let him get into a role! Not only is he excited to make the bit convincing, but he might slip pretty deep into it, local man gets horny from improv.

-Body Writing. Write all your favorite things about him on his body, and let him put his signature on you?? Dude would be over the moon going about his day with your words of praise written on his chest, tummy and hips.

[chvoswxtch]

Court,

how do you think Matt, Frank, and Billy would react if their partner wanted to… uhm. Make a spicy home movie… 🌶️

(it’s gotta be cannon that Billy would eat that shit up, right?!)

headcannons for each? If you’re interested.

I HAVE THOTS

let's talk about it :)

spicy headcannons below the cut (minors dni)

billy russo

let's start with this fucker bc yes he would absolutely eat that shit up

he's getting production level equipment, setting up mics, perfecting the lighting, picking out a sexy expensive little outfit for you to wear, probably even calling in a professional team for hair and makeup, and picking out the most lavish location he can think of

this is an ALL night event. he's fucking you on every surface, in every room, in every position, and he's getting every single second on film. I think he'd pick a location that has a lot of floor to ceiling mirrors so that he can watch himself as he fucks you, bc we know he's a conceited fucker (he'd probably be watching you and himself in the reflection while you're on your knees with his cock in your mouth), and he's definitely getting close up shots of your face when he makes you come (or comes on your face)

there is definitely going to be a sensual soundtrack

this is not a home movie to billy, this is a feature film, and one he would bring with him everywhere while he's away from you

he's such a shithead he would probably have a "premiere" and rent out a theatre just for the two of you so he could watch himself fuck you on the big screen (and then fuck you right there in the theater)

he'd definitely want to make more than one I can promise you that

matt murdock

I think matt would be a bit surprised by your request, but I don't think he'd deny participating

I think he'd honestly be aroused that you want something handcrafted by the two of you to use when you're feeling lonely and missing him while he's out living his busy double life

obviously the visual is more for you, but the audio is for matt

in order to make it special for both of you, the two of you come up with a plan. maybe you rent a little isolated cabin outside the city so there's no background noise, and get a couple of little mics to set up so that you can capture every sound

the breathy pants from sensual kissing, the soft whimper when you tease the head of matt's cock with your tongue, the obscene slurping from him devouring your pussy, the echo of your ass smacking against his thighs while he fucks you from behind

you get the stunning visuals of matt in all his glory, but he gets the audio file of your combined gratification

everybody wins ;)

frank castle

frank is without a doubt the hardest to talk into this. i've said it once and i'll say it until I die, he's a hopeless romantic and old fashioned when it comes to dating and sex

don't get me wrong, he can be freaky, and i'm sure teenage frankie was no stranger to porn, but watching it vs being in it is a totally different thing

when you ask him to make a spicy home movie, his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush red. he isn't sure he heard you right, but once he realizes you were serious, he gets a little shy

frank can rip people apart with his barehands and not bat an eye but being naked on camera makes him blush

I think he would feel self conscious. you'd definitely have to warm him up, try to distract him from constantly looking over at the camera, push him up against the headboard and climb on his lap while you give him something else to focus on

by the time you finally sink down onto his needy cock, he's forgotten all about the camera

I don't think he would fully appreciate the little home movie until the first time he has to be away from you for more than a couple of days, and he's really missing you in some motel far away, and his curiosity gets the better of him. I think he'd feel guilty at first for fisting his cock while watching you ride his face, feeling like he's disrespecting you somehow or being a perv, but then he'd remember that you wanted this and what he's doing right now is exactly what it was intended for

and knowing that you're at home alone in bed watching the same video and touching yourself too would drive him absolutely insane and make him feel like he can't come home to you fast enough

[wifelinkmtg]

There's "spaghetti western" and then there's whatever the hell this Chef Boyardee shit is

Hello! and welcome back to Wifelink. We're talking about Outlaws of Thunder Junction today, Magic's second product in a row set in a version of Nevada, and let me tell you something: I am not impressed. The mechanics are uninspired, the setting is undercooked, the story is overstuffed, and to top it all off the whole thing smacks of settler-colonialism. AND they yassified Vraska, the monsters!

WE WILL GET TO THE HOT WOMEN, BELIEVE YOU ME, BUT FIRST I AM GOING TO COMPLAIN SOMEWHAT, AS IS MY RIGHT AS AN AMERICAN, AS A HUMAN BEING, AND AS A GAMER

The mechanics we've discussed elsewhere, and I will skim over the main storyline except to say that very few of this Big Villain Heist Team-Up gets enough spotlight to justify their inclusion here beyond getting recognizable names on cards, and that Rakdos' presence on the plane alone ought to be an apocalyptic calamity. I appreciate Jace & Vraska going full blackpilled accelerationist, stealing a baby, and aiming to destroy the multiverse & start over (a novel hybrid of Raising Arizona and Doctor Strangelove,) but I also know, sure as the sun rises, that whatever happens with their villain arc will be a underwhelming let-down.

What I actually want to complain about, though, is the setting. Thunder Junction ain't real, and I don't mean it's fictional, I mean it's plywood facades on a backlot. It's the set for a cowboy film. You feel me? This ain't a plane, it's a god damned sound stage.

Lemme go over the facts: we know Thunder Junction has been settled for a bit over a year. A year! - and yet there's multiple towns, multiple railways, and an honest-to-god metropolis. Less than two years and we already have ghost towns! This is not the product of a bunch of people on various planes all individually deciding to seek a new life in the off-world colonies. All of this represents a staggering quantity of people, material, wealth, and labor, being moved between planes, directed and organized - but by whom? For what reason? How, even? The story is totally uninterested in these questions.

One of the few silver linings to the way the Phyrexian invasion storyline ended was that the Omenpaths had a lot of interesting potential! Different planes would come into direct contact with each other for the first time ever! Different technologies, different philosophies and religions, different kinds of magic colliding, coming into conflict, adapting and adjusting to each other. And after a couple of sets where the interplanar contact was limited to one or two particularly adventurous individuals, we finally get to see what interplanar contact at scale looks like here in Thunder Junction... and it just looks like a John Wayne flick. Did people not bring their culture with them? Is there a big rack of hats and boots and dusters right where people step off the Omenpath? Shuck off those old Ravnican rags, kid, get changed. You'll spoil the aesthetic. I mean, it's baffling.

Luxurious Locomotive (art by Leon Tukker). This is one of the few man-made parts of this plane that I can look at and know where it came from: this is a Kaladeshi design. More of this sort of thing would have made Thunder Junction feel more like a real place and less like a Sergio Leone joint.

There's a side story, No Tells, by Isaac Fellman, which I quite like actually: it's about guilt and betrayal and the inevitable regrets of having moved into a queer housing co-op, and one of the things that makes it great is that we know where Yuma came from (New Capenna), we know why he left (the limitations of "be gay do crimes" as praxis under capitalism), and we know what he brought to Thunder Junction with him (cocktails, pool tables, and his co-op's emergency funds). Fellman has written nothing else for Wizards and doesn't play Magic, and even so he's done more to make Thunder Junction feel like a real place situated in a real history than the rest of the story team combined - which goes to show, one, that we should only let trans people write magic story for the next decade or so, and two, that what I'm asking for in terms of worldbuilding is not unattainable, or even that difficult.

And all of this ties into the colonialism, right? Thunder Junction is being colonized, and asking questions about who benefits, who's sponsoring this breakneck settlement of the plane, what they're after and so forth would require the story to take a good hard look at the process of colonization itself, and Wizards is flatly unwilling to engage with anything that thorny in their products. So, just as Ixalan involved a limp-wristed slant reenactment of the Spanish conquest of the Americas - but it's fine because they're the bad guys and they're technically not even trying to colonize Ixalan and they don't win anyway so no one gets hurt! - Thunder Junction is attempting to present a Disneyland version of Western colonialism. Untamed wilderness! Bringing civilization to uninhabited deserts! How cool and heroic these hard frontiersmen and -women are! I'm told they brought in Navajo cultural consultants for the Atiin, a fantasy equivalent, and I hope those folks were well compensated! The Atiin seem cool, and the one Atiin character we spend any time with is well-written, but the Atiin are not indigenous to Thunder Junction. They're not being colonized. And if there weren't anybody being colonized, I'd probably still dislike the colonial vision of a wild land inhabited only by animals, just waiting for us to shape it to our will with railways and violence, but there is in fact a native race of sapients on Thunder Junction, and these cactus folk get no voice in the story, so if they have some kind of opinion on the rapid colonization of their home and the clear-cutting of their cactus forests, we don't get to hear about it.

Prickly Pair (art by Brian Valeza) Too much of the extremely-limited presence Thunder Junction's only indigenous sapients have on the cards is devoted to cactus-based puns like this one, which is pretty distasteful given, you know, the colonialism.

I'm talking about colonialism not because I think that replicating colonial myths in fantasy fiction is an unethical thing to do - although it is - but because you can see, right, that Thunder Junction's lack of verisimilitude is intertwined with the colonial vision of the world at play here, yeah? The story wants to have cool cowboy shootouts and train robberies and it does not want its cowboy fantasy to be complicated by uncomfortable realities, so it has to avoid all of the basic worldbuilding questions that would tell us who the colonization benefits and how they're profiting off the plane, and in the end we're left with nothing but an empty aesthetic, like a duster hanging off a scarecrow, blowing in the wind.

ANYWAY SO WOMEN

To be honest, under the circumstances I'm not really feeling like giving the fine women of Thunder Junction my usual more elaborate treatment, so we're going to lightning-round this shit, which is at least thematic.

Blood Hustler (art by Anna Pavleeva)

Vampire MILF.

Rattleback Apothecary (art by Loïc Canavaggia)

Snake MILF.

Wrangler of the Damned (art by Michal Ivan)

Cis lesbian haircut, good with a rope.

Obeka, Splitter of Seconds (art by Ryan Pancoast)

BIG

[b-skarsgard]

“With [Nick’s character] Thomas, they had a scene where Orlok was sucking his blood and the penis kept rubbing on his leg and he didn’t know how to react to him,” Traci Loader, Nosferatu’s lead makeup designer, told Us Weekly in an exclusive interview.

“I don’t think you’ll forget that moment,” the film’s hair department head, Suzanne Stokes-Munton, added, to which Loader replied, “No, that will live on forever!”

full article at the link

Audiences get their own view of the prosthetic appendage in the third act when Thomas attempts to flee Orlok’s castle after realizing he’s being fed on by the ancient vampire. As he finds his way to the cellar, he attempts to stake a sleeping Orlok but wakes him instead. As Thomas runs for his life, Orlok rises out of his sarcophagus, exposing himself free of clothing.

As for why the prosthetic penis was necessary to filming in the first place, head of prosthetic makeup effects designer David White — who created the prop — gave Us some insight into the scene.

“[Bill] knew it was coming, and as soon as I saw that shot in the frame, I thought, ‘Oh no, here come the questions about that.’ Because up until then nobody had said a word,” White said. “It was a creation above and beyond Bill’s own self … We had to find a way of making the whole body work for the shot where he rises from his sarcophagus. So, there was no way around it.”

Hoult himself has been candid about the awkward moment on set, telling Elle in a recent interview that after voicing that he could feel the prop pushing up against his leg, director Robert Eggers sent him a surprise gift.

“As a wrap gift, Rob got it framed, and he sent it to my house,” Hoult told the outlet, noting that he ultimately had to take the prosthetic to a frame shop after the present arrived damaged.

“When I went back to pick it up, I think [the shop owner] clocked, like, how weird it was that I was framing potentially this vampire penis,” Hoult explained. “And he was like, ‘Is this some kind of collector’s piece?’ and I was like, ‘Hm, you could say that.'”

While the faux genitalia may have caused some challenges for Hoult, wearing it was no problem for Skarsgård. White told Us the actor was the ultimate “professional.”

Skarsgård was also involved with the creative process, according to its team and had a say in helping craft Orlok’s mustache. The facial hair was initially supposed to be a lot longer and a different color than what the final product came out to be, thanks to Skarsgård’s input.

“There were a few different sizes of mustache to choose from,” White recalled. “I offered up a whole variety. At first it was a bit big, believe it or not, it was bigger than what it is now, and then it’s reduced and if you look closely, it’s actually thinned in the center area and that’s done on purpose so that you can see a little bit more of the teeth and everything beneath there.”

He continued: “I added a little bit of silver to the end, which I thought would be really lovely and give a little bit of extra character and suggest aging, but not sort of take him too far. And Bill was aware of those color changes. So he agreed and wanted that to be the case.”

White added that while on set, Skarsgård tended to remain in character and was “quiet and in the shadows as Orlok would be.” Seeing the actor in full garb, however, was much more comical behind the scenes than one would assume it would be.

“When he first went to set, he would be half dressed and then have joggers on the bottom,” Loader recalled with a laugh. •