#who choreographed this scene?? intimacy coordinator? director? them?

[merakiui]

So the Vil horror movie role starring darling… I just googled how simulated sex scenes happen in film. There is usually something called an Intimacy Coordinator who “is a professional who facilitates, choreographs, and establishes boundaries for actors during scenes that involve intimacy, from kissing all the way to full-on sex scenes…” It’s usually a closed set so very few people are involved during filming

but Vil knows how everything works and how everything goes and knows his way around things like that

what if Vil is the reason the film had to go from rated R to rated M for Mature?

👁 👁 Vil who becomes too immersed in the role. The director doesn't stop him because this is exactly it!!!! This is what they're looking for, and Vil pulls off the role so well!!! He's able to get into the mind of a villain in such a way that his portrayal is truly admirable! Worthy of all kinds of awards. When you aren't filming, you're even commending Vil on his acting, smiling sweetly and saying how honored you are to be able to work with him. And Vil's able to respond in kind, but deep down he's thinking about how great it would be to lock you and your pretty smile away so only he would be granted the pleasure of seeing it.

It unlocks something primal in Vil during the chase scene and he's in character...... grabbing your ankle to drag you out of your hiding place, and you do such an amazing job acting like the terrified victim. >_< he had to call for a break partway through filming because seeing the tears in your eyes and hearing the wobbly fear in your voice went right to his dick. ;;;;;

As for the intimacy coordinator, they establish everything as per the requirements and you and Vil are both aware of what's to be done for the scene where he non-cons you. Those improvised lines Vil says during that scene are actually his real thoughts. The director keeps them in because they think it's much better than what was on the script, and since it's Vil it's bound to turn out wonderful. Really, Vil just wants to get away with saying all sorts of depraved filth and speaking just a few of his fantasies while he acts out this scene. And it's all hidden under the guise of flawless acting.

[eph-em-era]

OFMD intimacy breakdown eps 6-7

Oh hey, it's me! Back again with an intimacy breakdown for episodes 6-7. prefacing this, once again, that I'm not a certified intimacy coordinator, I'm an IC in training, choreographer and director. I'm also not affiliated with the show, just have interest in the subject.

Check out episodes 1-5 here.

Massive spoilers so it's under the cut.

(I do note that there's not an IC credited in these episodes - I know there's one attached to the project so perhaps they weren't utilised in these ones, or were uncredited. Who can say!)

Let's start with - I don't know why these two episodes were so deliriously fucking fast. Potentially scheduling issues with Taika? Alternatively I heard that they lost some budget, which would have cut things a bit.

HBO Max I am in your walls.

regardless, not a fan! I think the acceleration of the relationship worked, just because of what we know about their characters, but the wider plot was too fast for my liking. Hoping in the event of a season three they take that to heart.

Anyways, onto the intimacy!

Calypso's Birthday

On a whole, I found this episode deeply charming. I love a bit of whimsy, and the ep felt like a tribute to their queer audience. Felt very seen!

It's quite challenging interpreting intimacy in these scenes as an interloper, cause I don't know how much is purposeful, vs how much is staging. Regardless, we will forge on.

One -

I would have loved a little more closeness during Izzy's first singing scene! There's what feels like a metre of space between them; something as simple as arms brushing or leaning against each other helps build that intimacy. I am guessing the gap is for shooting space - you need to see what's going on behind them - but it really loses something. It's not bad intimacy, I just would have liked more.

An alternative character interpretation is that Ed & Stede are still trying to fumble their way through things and public displays of intimacy are too much for them - which could also be the intended effect.

But as we all know - a hand touch can ignite a thousand feelings, and I would have liked a little more.

Two -

Lucius and Black Pete emerging after their day-long fuckfest. I've said it in the past and will happily say it now - I think Matthew Maher and Nathan Foad have the best chemistry out of this entire cast. It's so sweet, and so honest in a way that's very grounded compared to the rest of the cast - which is surprising considering who their characters are!

Lovely positioning! Very simple staging but effective, it makes the moment feel so, so private and intimate. It's really lovely.

Three -

Ed and Stede finally get it together and have sex. Okay, so this is obviously intercut with Izzy singing, so I'll lay it out in stages.

First, the jacket grab.

What does this say about Stede? He's been buoyed by his weird night and he wants to do something about it. What does this say about Ed? He's willing to go along with it, but it is not necessarily his first reaction. He's clearly feeling qualms about something - whether that's his relationship, or being a pirate - and he's not the one to initiate. This comes back later.

Regarding the staging, more technically - this is pretty common. A grab using the lapels or jacket is a very easy way to show intensity and passion. Does Ed respond with the same passion? Not quite.

Oh hey, an up against the wall kiss! Very fanservicey, consider me impressed. I think this is a fun bit of staging, I suspect they were given very strict hand placement, cause nothing moves that much, it doesn't look particularly improvised.

Rhys Darby does something very specific with his hands when kissing that I've noticed now and I will never not notice, which is deeply annoying.

It's a very nice moment, but honestly, I would have loved a pause? There's something very sexy and very charming in a scene like this where one character makes the other character wait for it. A little holding back, breathing together, finding the moment. More of a seduction than this brute force omg we need to do this now thing.

I saw someone on Twitter say "Ed and Stede fucked but haven't made love" and that's the vibe I'm getting off the scene. Both of these characters have had a weird day, they're probably tipsy, there's been a lot of emotions and this is a desperate spilling over I need to feel your skin against mine now thing, from two people who don't really know where they both are yet. There isn't seduction cause it's not the place for seduction, cause no-one here properly knows how to communicate yet! They're saying everything but saying nothing.

I hope, in the event of further scenes like this, they have the moment to breathe.

And finally, the third piece - the closing of the curtains.

What does this say about the characters? Hey this is a private moment, you're not allowed to witness this. It's the same as Ed/Stede other moments of intimacy. Everything is private, it's hidden, it's on a remote beach on an island or unobserved under the moonlight.

These dudes might talk about each other constantly and are unashamed to say they like each other, but they sure as shit can't show it publicly. There's also clear reticence within Ed - which echoes him saying he wants to take things slow, as well as his hesitance in the next episode.

This reticence is also shown in their costuming. This isn't a we spent care and time taking each other's clothes off energy, this reads more like Stede Bonnet is emboldened for one of the first times in his life and got naked way too fast. Hey, he's the one taking charge. He's the one closing the curtains.

Man On Fire

Not a whole lot of intimacy in this one. I'm not going to spend long on it, because it's not particularly meaty, but I think the Olu/Zheng hand grab over the table is adorable and a perfect way to show two people on the same page after going through it. It's balanced and sweet.

Now, the other thing:

This staging is suuuuuuch a missed opportunity, but I also think it works considering the later context of the scene.

Y'know how you'd usually show a morning after? Snuggling up together, shoulder to shoulder, legs intertwined. Hazy and precious and lovely.

It's a bit harder with this particular set piece - you can't shoot them from the reverse, cause of the window, so everything needs to be pointed out towards the camera, making snuggling side by side harder to shoot. In theatre you'd just angle the prop differently, but you can't do that on film in a room that has established locations.

Initially when I watched this, I was like "okay rookie move, they've missed the obvious".

But.

It makes sense with the characterisation of this episode. Stede's killed a guy. He's had probably the first bit of pleasurable intimacy in his entire life. Man's ego's the size of the room. He's got his chest out cause he feels good.

Ed, however. He's fully clothed. He's doing the good thing, doing the right thing, getting breakfast in bed but it's still not quite right in the way "it should be" (the twine), and he's buttoned up to the neck. No swagger, no body showing. What does that scream? Avoidance. Weirdness. Maybe even a bit of discomfort.

Keep in mind that in the last 12 hours he's seen Stede, who he fell in love with because of his whimsy and difference from other pirates kill a guy. He's seen him threaten other peoples' lives. He expressed the desire to take things slow and instead, in a feat of piqued emotion, they hooked up, and they probably shouldn't have.

They're not cuddling because it's weird. The whole moment is weird. It's almost a walk of shame but they're on the same damn ship together. They might have hooked up, but the pair of them clearly still aren't on the same page.

I doubt we'll see it next week, but I hope these two can find their peace. This is a genre comedy, not just a romance, so I doubt it'll be anything explicit, but I would love to see a scene that's deeply passionate, building the intimacy without building the pace. Take us in closer, let us feel what the characters feel without immediately cutting away.

Loathed as I am to link some of these clips because of their nonsense dialogue, here's some moments in other mlm media that do well at building that intimacy.

This Bill/Sam clip from True Blood that doesn't even have a kiss but holds the tension really well. Another nonsense dream sequence scene from True Blood that still has nice staging. Agron and Nasir from Spartacus have incredible chemistry with a variety of clips to choose from. There are so many options and I would love love love to see them explored in the final episode of S2 or in S3. Very excited to see them both on the same page - ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT FOR THE WIN.

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you liked. If there's anything juicy in ep 8 I'll cover it as well.

[didhewinkback]

Is an intimacy coordinator needed for a fully clothed sex scene simulation? Man, you people cannot make me hate Olivia. Try your damnedest but it has not worked to this day. She is awesome and freaking strong! That's probably also why she is hated by weird fans.

do you honestly think that a stipulation of a intimacy coordinators job is that they are only required if there is nudity? you think actors don't need someone there to help choreograph a scene where one actor has his head in between the other actors legs? are you for fucking real? you honestly think it is more appropriate for the only person to be choreographing and listening to the actors in incredibly vulnerable circumstances where one actor has his mouth next to the others vagina for a 12 hour shoot day is someone who is dating one of them?

i usually try to ignore messages like this because you're a freak who lurked in my tags to find something about olivia in it but this shit actually gets me so heated. it is incredibly irresponsible to promote a movie as a feminist manifesto about female pleasure when there was no one on that set to protect your female lead. kirsten dunst just talked about how uncomfortable kissing scenes (yes bitch, kissing scenes when all their clothes are on) were for her as a young actress. anne hathaway just did an interview about how she used to have to make out with actors for chemistry tests and how she wished there was someone in those situations to vouch for her. i could go on forever. intimacy coordinators are a necessity on set no matter how intense the intimate scenes get - they are there to advocate for and protect the actor and change things if an actor feels uncomfortable no matter what. if the only person there to help you during that scene is the director and she is currently sleeping with ur scene partner that is not a situation in which you feel advocated for, heard, comfortable or protected. and truly how fucking dare you act like the only thing that would make someone feel vulnerable in that situation is being naked.

there is nothing feminist or empowering about abusing your position of power. you don't get to get off from bad behavior and being bad at your job by arguing that people wouldn't be saying this shit if you were a man. that movie sucked and so do you.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Takia & Rhys are platonic friends, so i'd rather not watch a sex scene BUT scattered clothes/waist-up naked bed cuddling/jumping each other when the Passion Grows Too Great/overheard moans etc. would all be excellent. Also maybe a scene right after they have sex, where Ed's snoring & then it pans over to Stede whose expression is just 🤩🤩 like when Arnold Schwarzenegger loses his virginity in Twins.

Not to be like, a sex worker on main, but this is such a weird take to me.

Like first of reason it's a weird take is, I've done a fake sex scene in a filming situation before (it was for a friend's art school project as a teenager and it lasted exactly 10 seconds so it was like not serious or comparable) and trust me acting in a sex scene is not very much like having sex. And unlike what I did there's gonna be a whole intimacy coordinator and set choreographer and all that shit on set which is gonna make it even less like having sex. Like from what I gather through the grape vine if there's a blackbonnet sex scene is season 2 like what I described what happened was they took the worlds stiffest weirdest blanket that was specifically frozen into one position, and then there were like 5 people sitting just of screen in those directors chairs pausing it every few minutes to make sure everything that's happening is above board, and they're wearing jeans under that blanket, and Rosie Darby and Rita Ora are also off screen in a chair just to make sure it doesn't get to narsty (i've heard of actors spouses sitting in on sex scenes before Idk if that's standard practice but it's a thing I've heard of). So a sex scene is not sex let's just start there. You're on a set with a bunch of fucking cameras, nobody is touching anybody else's junk, they will literally make fake prosthetic junk for them to touch before they let the actors touch each other, and nobody is actually even naked. Like even in episode 8, the least sexual nudity ever, Buttons the character may have been butt fucking naked but Ewen Bremner had one of those skin color tape on g strings that makes you look like a ken doll down there.

The second reason it's a weird take for me is, as someone who has done sex work before... truly getting paid to fuck a platonic friend sounds like a dream scenario. Like that sounds like the most normal scenario I can think of. Like you would already care pretty deeply about each other's comfort level, you would be able to get passed the awkward "so uh, hi I'm ___ I guess we're having sex now" thing because that's your buddy you know them. You can meme with each other to diffuse the tension. Absolute best case scenario. Like that's not what's happening here because like I said they're super not having sex, but I were watching a porno the actors being platonic friends IRL would not ruin it for me because that sounds like literally so much chiller than fucking a stranger for money to me.' I prefer a John I've seen before personally. (not that those two types of sex work are the same)

The third reason this is weird to me is because... we've like, seen them kiss, presumably we want them to kiss again. But that is where the acting is real. Does them being platonic friends ruin the kiss for you too? Because they actually kissed each other. Unlike a sex scene that would not be fake.

The final reason is, like I said, we're not watching Rhys and Taika have sex because they didn't have sex (for this). But we are watching Ed and Stede have sex. Ed and Stede are not platonic friends, so the people you're watching have sex (Ed and Stede) are very much attracted to each other.

TL;DR: Any sex scene they would do on OFMD is all smoke and mirrors. Even if they literally showed us a dick going into an ass (which they're super not gonna do) that is prosthetics, ass molds and cgi. So Rhys and Taika being platonic friends who aren't attracted to each other irl should be of no object. If you would prefer to see a scene like you described rather than a full blown sex scene that's fine, but Taika and Rhys being Just Friends is quite possibly the most nonsensical reason to not want to see it. It's fine to feel weird about seeing sex on tv like that's ok you don't have to come up with some reason.

[fuckyeahwomenfilmdirectors]

What are your thoughts on Mia Hansen-Love’s comments about not wanting intimacy coordinators on her sets? (It was in her interview with The Guardian) Personally I’m disappointed that a female filmmaker can’t acknowledge that having a intimacy coordinator isn’t about stifling the creative process but rather making sure actors feel like they aren’t being forced to do things they don’t want to. Actors might have past sexual trauma that they don’t feel comfortable disclosing with their directors or maybe they might not feel confident voicing their discontent with a sexual scene. (Sorry I sent this as a message before and meant to send it as an ask!)

I hadn't seen it until you pointed me to the interview but the second I read it I thought "That's very French". The French film industry generally seems very devoted to the idea of everything being in service to art, even if people are abused along the way. Even people with so called "good" reputations often speak out to defend people with abusive reputations (for the record I've never heard anything bad about Mia Hansen-Love herself).

The full quote: "As long as I’m not forced to, I won’t use them. I don’t think I need it. I’m extremely sensitive and pay lots of attention to the respect that the actors need to have for one another. I’ve never had any kind of problem. I’ve never forced any actor to do anything. Everything is discussed and happens in a very smooth way. So for me, intimacy coordinators aren’t necessary. If I was forced to have some kind of virtue police on set, I’d rather not film those scenes. I understand why some people might feel reassured, but it’s very far from the experience of my own film sets."

Like it's all well and good that she thinks of herself as sensitive and respectful and I truly hope she is but like you said some people are shy or hesitant to talk about things or can easily find themselves pressured into doing things they didn't want to do on the days of filming. I mean I guess it's less of an issue now that she's working with big stars but she also sometimes casts nobodies and she now has a reputation as an award winning respected director. There is pressure to please when you're working with someone who is so established in their career.

Personally I see intimacy co-ordinators the same way I do dance choreographers. It strikes me as a really good idea to have them on set as they are experts in a particularly focused area and it's kind of surprising that they weren't a thing until recently. But I'm more North American this way.

[mariacallous]

In a subreddit dedicated to Baldur’s Gate 3, Larian Studios’ critically acclaimed Dungeons & Dragons–based role-playing game, a player posed an important question: “I know you probably heard this here more times than I can count but seriously, why is everyone so horny?”

There was a practical element to this query. In a different game, what is or isn’t horny is largely subjective (what you perceive as horny and what I perceive are probably different), but Baldur’s Gate 3 doesn’t operate on subtext alone. A major social aspect of the game is romancing party members, from the sharp-jawed blood-sucking Astarion to the mysterious Shadowheart. Shortly after the game’s release in August, players noticed that some party members—particularly the wizard Gale—were harder to discourage than others in the dating department. For some players, the especially amorous adventurers in their group were making it difficult to pursue the ones they wanted. Others found the aggressive flirting off-putting. As one player put it: “Gale telling me I'm handsome and sexy in the middle of a cursed shadow forest without any inputs from the player is kinda strange.”

Sex and romance were built into Baldur’s DNA, and Larian leaned into the game’s sexual nature early in the process. According to the BBC, the team even used an intimacy coordinator—professionals who help choreograph intimate scenes and ensure a sense of safety and comfort between actors and production—during recording sessions. There’s even a scene where you can have sex with a druid character … while he’s in his bear form.

Speedrunners were happy to play along, creating an entire run category specifically for how fast you could bed a companion. The top runner, who goes by Mae, told WIRED back in August that it was initially a “joke run.” “I didn’t really feel any pressure to do well or anything,” Mae says. “It was to be funny and put it out there that, ‘Hey, by the way, you can bang in like, eight minutes.’”

The category quickly picked up a following, though Mae still holds the current top record with one minute and 58 seconds. “In romance runs especially, I think it goes against the cliché of some dude assembling a harem of brainless women,” Mae says. “Especially in a game like this where, frankly, the companions have so much more emotional depth than anything we’ve seen previously in video games.”

Still, Baldur’s Gate 3 leaned in a little too hard, even for the developers. Game director Swen Vincke told TheGamer that characters being desperate to jump your bones was actually a bug, not a feature. “The approval thresholds were too low when we shipped,” Vincke said. “That's why they were so horny in the beginning. It wasn't supposed to be that way. We've fixed it since, at least for some of them. We're still fixing a few.” The goal had been to create relationships that were more like those in real life.

Gale was the first character patched to keep his pants on. (He “wasn't supposed to be like, instantly there,” Vincke said in that interview.) Earlier this month, another party member, Lae'zel, was singled out in the game’s notes for Patch #4. “For Lae'zel to decide to romance you, you no longer only need to gain high enough approval from her. You must also have proven yourself worthy through your actions,” Larian wrote. (Speedrunners within the community, including Mae, claim Lae'zel can still be romanced in the same ways.)

The speedrunning community currently has two different categories for its sex speedruns: Pre-Patch 4 and Patch 4+, though the latter has yet to clock any official runs.

Larian created a vast playground for players to explore. There is far more to Baldur’s Gate 3 than lusting after party members, whether it’s the game’s writing, actor performances, or complex combat. Even as Larian has patched out the bugs that made its cast especially lascivious, it’s the community that has carried on the horny torch, finding new ways to speedrun around changes. Players are the one thing you can’t patch.

With the game’s upcoming launch on Xbox, still expected sometime this year, a new wave of console gamers will soon join that community. The traditional sex speedrun may have reached its zeitgeist, but players are far from done. Earlier this month, a speedrunner named “weedmoder” achieved a new record for sleeping with the game’s beddable bear, finishing with a time of 50 minutes and 30 seconds. Their gift to the community was a tutorial of how they did it, posted online—a reminder that, for once, how long you last is all about how fast you finish.

[bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls]

The Daily Dad

Things you might want to know, for Jun 5, 2023:

Billy Joel Announces End of Monthly Madison Square Garden Residency — I always kinda hoped I’d get to see him there someday. This is what happens when you drag your feet, kids.

‘I’m not used to seeing sex that kinky’: Is The Idol the most shocking TV of the year? — I don’t know who’s ultimately responsible for how brilliantly this show has been promoted, but they’re getting a corner office before too long. I’m sure it’ll end up being fairly tame, but I’ll be ready for the first ep to drop all the same.

Idle rich baffled by poor people's distaste for dangerous, low-paying jobs

From pole to canvas: Exploring BDSM through dance and art

Google’s Android and Chrome extensions are a very sad place. Here’s why — This isn’t why I use neither Android nor Chrome… but it doesn’t help.

Vita Radium Suppositories (ca.1930) — Before Viagra, there were radioactive buttplugs.

I’m a ‘mommy’ dominatrix — CEOs pay me to humiliate them with my hijab on

The rise of rough sex in the time of sexual recession: ‘I want to be manhandled without being judged for it’ — Wait until she figures out that it’s even better when he manhandles you and judges you for it.

Intimacy Coordinator Shows What It's Like To Choreograph Sex Scenes — Do I think the whole “intimacy coordinator” thing is important for every film? Not necessarily. But if you’ve got a production big enough to need a stunt coordinator and a second unit director, then you’re big enough to need a specialist in charge of bumpin’ uglies.

Gurman: Apple May Announce Drop of 'Hey Siri' Trigger Phrase at WWDC — I am very skeptical of this. I’d love to be wrong… I hope they’ve figured out how to dramatically reduce the number of erroneous invocations, to such a degree that dropping the “hey” is viable. But I’m not getting my hopes up.

Trippy TV returns with The Sid & Marty Krofft Channel — I was a Land of the Lost kid. “Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition…”

Criminal Charges and Consensual Kink — Some well-intentioned thinking. Kind of out of step with how real people live real human lives, but still… interesting.

Book-ban advocates gnash teeth over Utah school Bible removal — I don’t want to generalize, but book-ban advocates of all stripes can go fuck themselves.

Digital finances were a boon for the legal adult industry. Now, they’re shutting out sex workers. — PayPal shut me down in 2002 for “providing adult services”. I have successfully held a grudge for twenty years now.

Russian spy beluga trying to come in from the cold — Spongy-headed, boop-nosed death machines.

Let's Get what now? Original version of badly-aged Black Eyed Peas song a viral hit despite "censorship"

Mutation causes woman to live virtually pain, fear and anxiety-free, with ability to heal rapidly

[luminofilmsofficial]

Getting Profile Actors for your Film

So we all know that having a profile actor on your film increases the number of people who will watch it, increases its chances of being featured at film festival, increases its saleability if it’s a feature film.

It’s a psychological feel good factor….if x star is in it then it must be good. At least people will watch it and indeed could still pan if if the rest of the production and script is awful but on a general level the public associate profile actors with good productions.

So how do you get them involved?

1. You personally know them

2. You are working on another film in which they star and in break times you can briefly ask them to consider your work. Subtlety is required here, no actor wants to be cornered or bombarded with pitches and offers.

3. You can build up a relationship with them on social media (remember many high profile actors do not run their own social media) but I have a few who follow me, so might you.

4.Have a good script and approach their agent. Some agents are lovely, some very spikey and the main things they want to know are who is the director and DOP and what have they done before.

Then you must have an idea of the actor’s worth. The agent will ask you to make an offer. This is of course negotiable but don’t go in at say £150 a day - you’ll be turned away with derision. From my experience I have found £600 a day is the lowest I have offered and upwards from there to £1,500 a day. Some actors want an all in flat rate offer let’s say £100,000 for the film. A sales agent will help guide you on these figures which fluctuate with the actor’s IMDb rating.

Remember this is just the start- most will want a car and driver to pick them up and take them home. They will want their own nice room at unit base, possibly their own PA, own makeup person, certain requests, intimacy coordinator for any sex or part nudity scenes if their agent has agreed to it. They may require a per diem for food and incidentals.

If the location is far from their home they will require their own room and en-suite bathroom in a 4-5 star hotel.

So this can add 150 - 350 plus a day.

An intimacy coordinator usually requires to be involved in the whole film and won’t just choreograph your stars scene and ignore the rest, but will want 1 rehearsal day and 1 shoot day at least at BECTU rates of £780 a day.

Who is a star actor? They have a household known face. Ie people recognise them. The biggest stars A listers have an IMDb of less than 1,000. The next level is actors who have a rating of 1-5,000 and so on from there.

If you are being canny, look for actors who may have ratings of 70-150,000 that may have taken time off for family or other things, had a lull in their career and are looking for work, and still have known faces.

Below just a few of the profile actors I have worked with:

You are unlikely to get A listers on a short film. You are unlikely to get them on a low budget film or if you have no track record, are just starting out.

[p-redux]

I don’t know, I think a guy would have to be bothered by public speculation about the paternity of his child, with or without a “fandom.” Especially when there’s already been public speculation about his wife’s relationship with her costar. And when his wife frequently gets half naked with said costar for her job. And travels with him, etc. No one is that secure and I don’t believe for a second that it’s easy for them to just ignore. It would be easier for them to just post a damn pic.

A pic of what, Anon? Of Cait, Tony and Baby Balfe McGill? What would that do? Suddenly convince the delusional babygaters that Cait IS married to Tony and that they DO have a son together? Women who think Sam and Cait are secretly married and have 5 secret bairns together are...um, to put it delicately...OFF THEIR F*CKING ROCKER. There is NOTHING Cait could do that would convince them that their SamCait fantasy is just that--a fantasy. So, why would Cait expose her REAL son and husband to ridicule and harassment from people who have NO bearing on her REAL life?

As for Tony. He has been in BLISSFUL REALITY with Cait for 8 YEARS. He has nothing to be insecure about. He KNOWS that:

1. Sam is absolutely NOT Cait's type, as she herself has said in multiple interviews. And as the men she has dated in the past show us. They all look like Tony, not Sam. Tony knows Cait's history and knows brunette wavy haired, artsy, music industry dudes are her type. NOT tall, blond, muscular sporty actors.

2. That when Cait and Sam film sex scenes on Outlander there is a director, assistant director, lighting people, sound people, multiple camera operators, makeup and hair people, and now an intimacy coordinator, among other crew. Sex scenes are choreographed and blocked. How hot do you think things get when there are 20 people watching? Not much. Also, every time there is a different angle filmed, the director yells "cut," and the actors have to reposition themselves and start again in prepararion for the next shot. There is nothing sexy about it.

The ONLY reason Sam and Cait, as Jamie and Claire, make it look so believable is because they are INCREDIBLE ACTORS. They are literally good at their JOB. Tony knows Cait is ACTING. She goes home to him and there is no crew or acting involved.

I hate to be crass 😜 but Tony has been with Cait for 8 years, he's had the REAL thing around 2,920 times, give or take a day off here and there. Do you think he cares about Sam fake f*cking his wife a couple of times a year? NO. HE. DOES. NOT. Mark me. 😉 And Lord Jesus, please forgive me. 🙏

As for Cait traveling with Sam for work...did you get amnesia, Anon? Tony travels WITH Cait to most of her work events. He's right there, always supporting her.

And Tony also knows that Sam is not pining away for his tall, lanky 42 year old brunette wife. Sam's preference has been CLEARLY documented as petite, sporty, pretty BLONDES who are way YOUNGER than him...with a few brunettes and one redhead thrown on the mix once in a while.

As for Tony caring about the paternity of his son being questioned. Um, he knows--from Cait-- that the "fans" questioning it are all "not right in the head," wonky-eyed, basement dwelling TROLLS. WHY would he give their opinion a second thought? They are literally IRRELEVANT.

Does that answer your question, Anon? I hope so.

In summary: Tony knows WHO the real Cait is. And WHO the real Sam is. And "never the twain shall meet." I'm sure Tony and Cait laugh and laugh during the rare times they talk about the fandom. Some "fans" ideas about what is really going on are literally the OPPOSITE of the reality. Tony is juuuust fine. Trust.

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

Hi bby.

"OMG! Fans on twitter are saying the scenes were real and they weren’t acting. They’re sideyeing that david said that because he wanted people to understand that the scenes were real. What are they talking about? How can they say the scenes were real? Have you seen that?"

I just want to answer this anon more elaborately if you'll allow me <3 To begin with: you guys shouldn't even be giving importance to twitter people, but let's get started. 1 - I've studied film/cinema for a few years now, so believe me, I know what I'm talking about. No, none of the sex scenes in the movies or TV Shows are real. ALL the scenes are done in a choreographed and professional way, the actors even use "clothes" to cover their private parts that are not shown in the scene (apart from scenes that are shown breasts and butts) to make them feel as comfortable as possible and also to not have direct physical contact from one actor to the other. 2 - These scenes are done with a intimacy coordinator, who is a professional who shows actors how to make sex scenes in movies look real, in some movies where directors don't have a intimacy coordinator, we can see how fake these scenes are (I say this from the point of view of a person who studies cinema, because not everyone notices flaws in scenes like this, but believe me, many movies that don't have an intimacy professional working on the set are movies that we can see the mistakes at some scenes that show that sex scenes are not real LOL) Thats it. Just stop believing everything you guys read and caring about these things. I just wanted to explain to your anons how these scenes are made so that there are no more doubts! Hugs and Kisses to everyone! <3

i agree with everything! the funny thing is that i’m a film graduate myself and i didn’t even think to talk about the technicalities of it all, i was just saying as a viewer because this is basic knowledge, you don’t have to know how a movie is made to understand it’s not real

[harryfeatgaga]

Not saying they didn't have one, but you don't necessarily need an intimacy coordinator. It's not the same thing as an intimacy choreographer who works out the moves and stuff, it's literally just someone to facilitate communication and make sure the actors are feeling comfortable and supported during the scenes. It's a great idea on sets where the dynamic is iffy or where there are predominantly men or super intimidating/domineering directors so the people involved have someone to advocate for them if things get sketchy. But if you have a sensitive director who you trust and who makes you feel completely at ease with the process and lets you know that you're in control and can go at whatever pace feels comfortable and stop whenever (which it sounds like she did), it's not always necessary.

no yeah for sure people just love to talk about things they dont know for sure or know anything about the topic and spread false and possibly harmful info lmao

[thatidicchick]

When filming a scene of an intimate nature, there is so much more that goes into composition of the finished product than just acting! Here is some basic info about how filming intimacy works (and a small amount about film sets in general, if you’ve never worked on one).

A given scene — even if the actors do everything perfectly — will likely be filmed over and over and over. Why? Angles. Framing. The editor will want to have lots of options to piece a scene together. So for one take, it may be a wide shot where all involved actors are visible. For the next, perhaps a closeup on one actor’s face. The next time, the other. Perhaps a mid shot that’s slightly closer than the first; perhaps then a tracking shot that follows movement. Perhaps a tight shot on one actor’s hands if they are doing something significant. And so on and so on.

How does this factor into the job of an intimacy coordinator?

Firstly, as we’ve previously established, intimacy coordinators create nudity riders which record where the actors’ boundaries are and guarantee that they are respected. These are, again, highly specific documents — at the risk of sounding crass, sometimes they are specific down to the amount of inches of butt crack that are allowed to be visible. When the camera is moved around to get all these different takes, the IC has to make sure that all boundaries are still honored — does an article of clothing need to be taped in place so as to avoid showing something that isn’t meant to be shown? Should furniture strategically be placed? A sheet catching a hip at just the right angle? A cutaway shot right as a particular body part would otherwise be exposed? The intimacy coordinator will help compose the shot in a way that suggests as much nudity/intimacy as the scene needs, but doesn’t show too much and, as always, protects the actors.

Secondly, the positioning of bodies. Particularly with simulated intercourse, there are a lot of factors to consider. Because there is no real penetration, the intimacy coordinator helps the actors cheat (which is theatre/film speak for fake) their positioning to make it look as though their pelvises are lining up exactly right. They can also coach the actors through completing the movements in a way that looks believable on film, though of course, it’s just movie magic. Sometimes this positioning is really awkward in person, but looks great on film — for instance, it’s sometimes the case that more space needs to be created between the actors’ torsos for a shot to be composed correctly where in real life, they would be very close together.

Thirdly, the intimacy coordinator helps with modesty garments. Sometimes this is helping the actors put them on (general held in place with athletic tape), other times it’s helping make sure they stay hidden. These are a necessity; in addition to covering the actors to strategically block parts of their bodies they do not want shown, they also create a barrier so that bodily fluids do not go from actor to actor for obvious health concern reasons. In some instances, performers who identify as male have to “tuck” (Also using athletic tape). The IC also often coordinates with the costume dept. on robes for between takes and ensures that they are worn in a way that protects everyone on the set (an actor may be comfortable leaving their robe hanging open, but that doesn’t mean the director is comfortable with that while giving notes, etc).

Lastly, in addition to and combination with all of the above, the intimacy coordinator will often help with the choreography of the intimate moment (s). Sometimes they lead this, other times they facilitate and support the director’s vision. Generally this works with the actors’ instincts and character work (no, we are not there to make it less sexy; nor do we come in with a dry list of instructions we force the actors to obey. It is a collaborative process); the IC will work with the director and actors, work through the arc of the story, and help create a sequence of distinct, repeatable, character driven movements that are interesting, look good on camera, and help tell the story… and as different shots are completed, we may have to re-stage/change positioning slightly to aid in the audience seeing the story they were meant to see. This may also include choreographing the removal of clothing, which can often be very complicated, particularly in a period piece where actors wear lots of layers that are not standard dress today. (Also with this, an IC may work with articulations of intimacy — the vocal and breath work that creates the soundscape for the intimacy. This is generally not a top priority but is important work nonetheless).

All of this while protecting the mental health of the actors, making sure they have breaks when they need them, watching the monitors to make sure all shots are kosher for actors’ boundaries….

And then doing a ton of paperwork on top of all of that. 🙃

[xerxia31]

the Big Bang - an Everlark ficlet

Inspired by a story I read on CNN, that I couldn’t get out of my head. A warning - there are shades of dub-con here that may be disturbing to some readers. Rated M.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Peeta Mellark was fit to be tied.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, boy,” Haymitch drawled. “You knew where these characters were heading when you signed on.”

“Come on, Haymitch,” Peeta growled. He was standing in Haymitch Abernathy’s office, holding the week’s script while Haymitch, head writer and executive producer of the hit series The Arena, in which Peeta starred, stared at him from under a mop of greasy, overlong hair. Until now, Peeta had loved working on the show, loved the ensemble cast, loved the interesting storylines and well-written scripts.

But not today.

“They’ve been growing together slowly for three damned seasons and now, this week, bam!” Peeta clapped his hands for emphasis, “out of nowhere you have three fucking sex scenes in the script.” For three seasons the show had been teasing a relationship between the character Peeta played, macho FBI agent Barley St James, and his shy, brainy colleague, Allium Winterland. It was a fantastic story, well paced, the dialogue between them always fun. Nearly three years they’d been teasing the audience with it.

And now this week’s script turned everything on it’s head. “You’re just screwing with us.” There was no way the timing was coincidental. Because the actress who played Allium, the actress he’d be stripping down to his skivvies and dry-humping with on national television? She was none other than his now-ex-girlfriend.

Haymitch glanced away. Peeta thought it was in shame until Haymitch spoke.

“You might as well come in, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said, and Peeta spun to look behind him. “We were talking about you.”

Katniss Everdeen was standing just outside Haymitch’s open door. It was the first time Peeta had laid eyes on her in the flesh in two weeks. Two fucking weeks! He hadn’t seen her since the night she walked out of their house.

He knew where she’d gone though, the whole fucking world did. All of the gossip rags, and even the more reputable news sites, were reporting how her on again off again affair with one Gale Hawthorne, star of multiple movie franchises and People magazine’s sexiest man alive 2018, was definitely on again. 

“Story of my life,” Katniss muttered as she walked the rest of the way through the door, schooling her expression into a dispassionate scowl as she did. Peeta had no idea why she went into acting, he could read her every emotion through the impassive mask. He always could. Today was no exception, her mask might be in place, but her eyes were flashing with fury, and something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

She didn’t acknowledge Peeta at all, striding into the room on silent feet and stopping a solid six feet away. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, but her copy of the script was clenched in one fist. No doubt she’d been planning on storming in here to blast Haymitch. But Peeta beat her to it.

“Save your breath, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said. “Like I told the boy, you knew this was coming.”

“It’s fine,” she said, shooting a cool look in Peeta’s direction. “I’m a professional.” Then she turned, and strutted back out the door, back straight, long, black braid swinging. He could only watch, jaw clenched.

“Brrr,” Haymitch said. “You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime.” He was right, of course, and Peeta knew it. The audience would be expecting a pair of lovebirds. Not two people who could barely look each other in the eye.

“Whatever,” Peeta grunted. She wanted to play it that way? He could be cold too.

o-o-o

The table read went smooth as silk. Katniss sat on one side of the room, chatting lightly with their costar Delly Cartwright between scenes, Peeta sat on the other, joking with Cressida Faulkner, who was directing that week’s episode. Most of the cast had no clue Peeta and Katniss had broken up, because most of them never knew they’d been an item at all. Haymitch had figured it out somehow, clearly, but none of the other cast noticed anything was amiss. 

The following day’s rehearsal, not so much. Rehearsals were always in costume and filmed, so that the production team could splice in any good bits that came out of them. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in TV, especially in a weekly series where time was tight. Peeta was used to it.

His first few scenes were fine, his lines came easily, he hit every mark. Then came the first scene he and Katniss shared that week, the one that led up to the first of the three fucking sex scenes. 

She walked onto the set, and Peeta’s heart did a slow tumble in his chest. She was utterly beautiful, her hair loose and flowing, and wearing a dress patterned with autumn leaves. Soft orange, his favourite colour.

The colour of heartbreak.

They both stumbled through their lines, avoiding each other's eyes, interacting stiffing and unnaturally. Cressida halted the scene over and over again. It was a huge drag on the rest of the cast, slowing down everything.

Peeta’s only solace was that Katniss looked as miserable as he felt.

Peeta left as soon as rehearsal ended and headed for the gym. The call sheet had them both in an evening meeting at the studio, and he was going to need to work off some steam before he faced her again.

He should have asked, though, what the meeting was about. Because when he got back to the studio he found Katniss, dressed in leggings and a tiny little tank top, her face bare and so pretty, sitting cross-legged on a gym mat and chatting with a willowy brunette who gave off crunchy granola vibes. “Did I miss the memo about mandatory yoga?” he drawled. 

Katniss scowled, but the brunette smiled beatifically. “Hello Mr. Mellark,” she said softly, her voice like windchimes, musical and irritating. “I’m Annie Cresta, your intimacy coordinator.”

Peeta was too confused to make a joke. “My what now?”

Annie laughed. “Intimacy coordinator,” she repeated. “It’s my job to choreograph simulated sex scenes for actors.”

“I think we know how sex works,” Peeta grumbled, and Katniss flushed, obvious without the stage makeup caked on her skin, then looked down at her lap. But Annie was undeterred.

“Of course,” she said gently. “But it’s about more than just choreography. It’s about helping you both to be comfortable, about navigating respect and consent and keeping the set safe.”

Peeta had heard about this, once before maybe, in the wake of the #metoo movement. But he’d never worked with one before. Katniss must have requested it. Figured she couldn’t even trust him to be a professional on the set. “With all due respect, Ms. Cresta,” Peeta said. “I don’t think we need this. We’ve both filmed scenes like this before.” Not with each other, but that was a minor point.

Katniss, to his surprise, looked inclined to agree. Annie just smiled.

“Not negotiable, I’m afraid,” she said. “All of Panem Entertainment’s productions must have an intimacy coordinator on set.” Peeta frowned, they were in the third season of filming, he’d never seen Annie before. As if reading his mind, she nodded. “I worked with Thresh Watts and Rue Lamonte last year.” That scene had been filmed on a closed set, Peeta had seen the finished product, but not any of the lead-up, and it hadn’t occurred to him at the time to ask about it.

Peeta sighed, and resigned himself to having a stranger teach him how to have fake sex with his real ex-girlfriend.

“Have a seat,” Annie said, indicating the mat beside Katniss. Peeta gritted his teeth, but he sat, his knee brushing hers.

She didn’t react.

“Now,” Annie said. “Communication is key.” Peeta snorted, and Katniss scowled at him. Communication. With the woman who had spoken a single word to him in the past 15 days. Sure. "The most important thing is that the people involved feel safe.”

“Why would we feel unsafe?” Peeta interrupted. There was a Cubs game on TV tonight, he’d rather be watching that.

Annie was unperturbed. “You're revealing a lot in a scene, you're going to places where you're vulnerable, and that requires an awful lot of trust," she said, looking pointedly between Peeta and Katniss. He wondered with some annoyance just how much Katniss had revealed to Annie about their situation before he’d walked in. “I have the script, and an outline of how your director wants it to look. But you two will need to talk with each other and with me and say, 'What are you comfortable with? What are you not comfortable with?'”

“I don’t want kissing,” Katniss blurted, then flushed again. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m not sure I can concentrate on both that and lines and choreography.” Peeta knew that was bullshit, in three seasons he could count on one hand the number of times Katniss had forgotten a line or missed a mark. 

She just didn’t want to kiss him. And it stung. 

Annie nodded. “We can work around that,” she said. “There will need to be some close up shots of you kissing, but they can be filmed separately from the simulated sex.”

Great, Peeta thought. Their characters had kissed a lot over the past three seasons, but that had been easy. They were both professionals, and kissing Katniss for the camera had been no big deal. Fun, even, in a comfortable, familiar way. Never sexual, there was always too much lipstick and stage makeup to worry about for there ever to be more than a peck. But steady, and comforting.

He doubted it’d be like that now. Or ever again.

“Let’s start with directorial expectations,” Annie began. “I’ve been given a timeline for the scenes and an outline of the specific angles that are expected. The most challenging part, from an intimacy perspective, is likely to be the third, which will be shot side angle with you, Peeta, on top of Katniss and no sheets to shield anything. We’ll have to block arms and leg placements carefully, and it’s likely you’ll both feel very vulnerable.”

Peeta didn’t see how that would be difficult, yet when Annie positioned him kneeling between Katniss’s thighs, a ridiculous little brocade cushion between their bodies, it was incredibly awkward. Katniss couldn’t hide in this position, with their faces only inches apart, and he couldn’t ignore, looking into her silver eyes, just how much he’d lost.

Two hours of rolling around on the floor, blocking arm and hand and leg movements sucked any sexy out of the scene. It felt robotic and contrived and awkward as hell. Katniss, for her part, looked fucking miserable. “Well,” Annie said finally. “I’m sensing some discomfort, so I think we should close for the evening.”

Peeta rolled onto his back on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Why was this so fucking hard? He was an actor, for god’s sake. He’d filmed sex scenes before, and none of them felt this shitty.

“I think we could do with a couple more rehearsals,” Annie said. “I’ll ask Cressida to schedule some.” Just fucking great, Peeta thought.

Annie floated away like an ethereal being. Katniss hung back, maybe to talk with him, maybe just to avoid Annie. But he wasn’t in the mood. He’d been subjected to her stony silences for two days, his heart hurt and his pride was dented and he just needed to get out and lick his wounds.

“Peeta,” Katniss said softly. Peeta held up his hand.

“Not now,” was all he said.

She scowled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Peeta almost leapt to his feet, his exhaustion morphing into rage. “Look, you haven’t said a damned word to me in weeks, you haven’t even come home for your things, and now you want to talk?” Peeta spat, cringing internally at his use of the word home to describe the house where they’d been living together until two weeks ago.

Katniss looked puzzled, under all of that anger. “Jo said you threw everything away.” Johanna Mason was a mutual… well... not quite friend. Peeta had often accompanied her to awards shows, in the early days of her career when she was concerned that if it got out that she preferred women, it would stop her from getting leading lady roles. She didn’t need to worry about that anymore, she was a bonafide A-lister these days, and her relationship with an adorably bubbly talk show host was in every magazine. But Jo generally had her own unknowable agenda and sometimes she liked to stir up shit just for fun. 

“You think I’d do that?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He might have thought about it, fantasized about it really, when he found out who she was staying with. But he had more dignity than that, and she damned well should know it.

In fact, everything was exactly as she’d left it when she stomped out of their home, out of his life, 15 days ago. Her toothbrush was beside the bathroom sink, her favourite sweater on her favourite chair. A shabby silver-framed picture of her parents nestled between their awards. All of the homey pieces of her life, all of her simple treasures, abandoned. 

Katniss shrugged, like she didn’t care, like his worth, his honour, the life they’d built together, was inconsequential, and it just pissed Peeta off more. He hated her ice princess routine, hated how fucking above it all she was. She’d always been good at freezing him out, at making him chase her, but no more. He didn’t have to put up with her stone cold shit.

“Get you crap or I will toss it,” he seethed, walking away. She didn’t call after him, but then she never did.

o-o-o

Haymitch dropped two of the three sex scenes from the script. Peeta should have been relieved, he was relieved. But he also felt sick about it. Like he was destroying his career.

The tension on set was obvious and palpable now, and he knew it looked like he was the cause. Katniss, always quiet, remained quiet. But Peeta couldn’t fake it, once the cameras stopped. Cold didn’t come naturally to him, and too often he veered into mean and snappish. 

He had to figure out a way to get past this, to get past his anger, his hurt, and work with Katniss again. But he had no idea how.

Peeta leaned back in his favourite club chair, in the cozy den at the back of his house, and allowed himself to relive that day, the day it had all come crashing down. Until then, he’d thought he had it all, had the world in the palm of his hand. A great job, a comfortable home and the most radiant woman in the world in his bed every night. 

Katniss Everdeen had been a child star on a hugely popular sitcom. He knew her only by name when she showed up to screen test with him. He’d been expecting a cute little moppet. Instead, she was a silver-eyed stunner. And right off the bat, he was a goner.

They clicked, in almost every way. Working together was a joy, chatting together between takes a delight. He loved her intelligence and wry sense of humour. They moved from friends to more at breakneck speed, but it never felt too fast.

She was insistent that they keep a lid on their relationship, even when they eventually moved in together. He understood it, her previous relationship, also with a costar, had been documented to death, she’d been hounded and harassed by the paparazzi constantly, even now they followed her everywhere. He didn’t love keeping them a secret, but he loved Katniss, so he acquiesced. 

And that day, the day it all fell apart? It was supposed to be a good day, a great day. The first day of their two-week mid-season filming break. They had grand plans to do nothing but each other. Peeta had run a few errands, then stopped by his agent’s office to sign a couple of endorsement contracts.

That’s when the shit started.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me first,” Finnick Odair, the best agent in the business, said with a grimace. He handed Peeta a tablet. Loaded up was the National Enquirer, his mother’s smirking face beside a promotional shot of Peeta and Katniss, and the headline, ‘It’s Real’. His fucking mother had struck again. It wasn’t the first time she’d sold Peeta out to the tabloids.

“Shit,” Peeta murmured. Not because the headline wasn’t true, it was. But Katniss guarded her privacy with clenched fists, and for two years, they’d barely let anyone in on their secret. Finn knew, but he was very discreet and like he’d said when Peeta had first hired him, he couldn’t protect Peeta unless he knew all of his secrets.

“She’s going to be pissed, huh?” Finn said sympathetically.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Peeta was in a foul temper and all he wanted was his quiet house and a couple of fingers of scotch before he had to deal with Katniss, who was sure to be furious. But no, he wouldn’t even get that. Because Rye was standing at his front door when he arrived home. Peeta groaned, and parked in front of the house, instead of pulling into the garage, where the door he generally entered by was. They’d chosen this place because the gated community was supposed to offer them more privacy and security. He was going to have to talk with the guard at the gate again. Just because Rye looked like his brother didn’t mean Peeta wanted him here. 

“Peet,” Rye said genially as Peeta unlocked the seldom-used front door. 

“What do you want, Rye?” Peeta really had no time for his brother’s bullshit, not that day of all days, and he hadn’t bothered hiding his annoyance.

“I can’t just pop by to see my little brother?” Rye never came by unless he wanted something. Often it was money. Rye seldom worked, preferring to live off his association with Peeta There were a lot of people in LA who would wine and dine the families of celebrities, looking for an in. Rye had brought him a few abominable scripts over the years from people who’d promised him a big finders fee if he could get Peeta to sign on.

“Cut to the chase, Rye,” Peeta said impatiently. There was a small liquor cabinet in the living room closest to the front door. Not that they ever lived in this room. It was only for show, the place where outsiders were held, away from the parts of the house where they actually did their living.

“Fine,” Rye laughed. “Tell me it isn’t true, little brother,” he said. There was no point pretending Peeta didn’t know what he was talking about. Rye was a terrible gossip hound. Peeta shook his head. “Thank god,” Rye said. “You can do so much better than that. She’s not very big, and definitely not hot.” 

Peeta sighed. Rye’s taste in women only included girls who fawned all over him. Katniss would never make that list. 

“Where did Mom come up with that idea anyway?” Rye asked, eyeing the single glass Peeta poured with interest. Peeta was not going to offer him a drink. He wasn’t going to do anything that suggested Rye was welcome to stay. “It’s pretty fucking crazy, even for her.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta grumbled. He knew exactly where. She must have listened in on one of Peeta’s calls with his father. His dad was his best friend, Peeta just couldn’t keep secrets from him. But the old man wasn’t always careful when he talked to Peeta.

“Katniss Everdeen. As fucking if. You have much better taste than that,” Rye laughed. “Remember that chick you were with a couple of years ago? The one who was in Playboy?”

“Cashmere Solomon,” Peeta muttered half under his breath. He’s gone out with her twice, and she’d been a nightmare, only interested in what he could do for her celebrity.

“She was hot,” Rye nodded. “I hooked up with her, after.” That was more than Peeta needed to know.

“Look,” Peeta started, an attempt to get rid of Rye, to get back to his plans for a few quiet minutes before Katniss got home and he’d have to have another, very different conversation on this topic.

“Mom’s a mental case,” Rye interrupted. “Like you’d ever stoop low enough to fuck that Everdeen chick. Stuck up little bitch like that? You’ve got more pride.”

“Are we done?” Peeta was bone weary, and not at all in the mood to listen to one of his brother’s diatribes. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

“Right, right,” Rye said. Peeta didn’t give a damn whether his brother believed him or not. He started to guide Rye back to the entryway. “I don’t know how Hawthorne puts up with her, “ Rye said. “Rumour has it she’s completely frigid.”

Peeta laughed, he couldn’t help it. Katniss was the furthest thing in the world from frigid, she was a live wire in bed, far and away the best sex of his life. And she had broken up with Gale Hawthorne some four years earlier, but the media still wrote about them as if they were just taking a break.

“Listen,” Rye said, though Peeta was already shepherding him towards the door. “I know this girl, Glimmer her name is. Tits for miles! She’s working on a pilot.” Working on a pilot was LA code for unemployed. “She’s so hot,” Rye continued, oblivious to Peeta’s irritation, “spend a little time with her, I’ll get my pap friend to follow you. That’ll make the Enquirer story go away. Kill any hint of association with that little piece of work.”

“Bye, Rye, Peeta said, pushing his brother through the door.

“Call me,” Rye said, and Peeta slammed the door in his face, flipping the bolt. Idiot. He exhaled slowly, then turned.

Katniss was standing behind him. Shit. How much of Rye’s crap had she heard?

“How could you let him talk about me that way,” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Peeta cringed. Evidently most of it. “What was I supposed to say? You don’t want him to know we’re together.”

“We have to be together for you to defend me?” Katniss asked, incredulous. “Women are only worth defending if you’re fucking them?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he said. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” Katniss was pacing, little mincing steps that would fit on a pie plate. “Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Peeta was yelling. He flung his arms wide, expensive scotch sloshed over the edge of his glass, splashed his watch. Just great.

“How about ‘Katniss isn’t a stuck up little bitch’ for starters?”

“Jesus, Katniss, why do you even care? You know he’s an asshole.”

“He said awful things about me, in my own home, and you just stood there and nodded, like you agreed,” Katniss snapped. “That was a total dick move.”

“Well excuse-fucking-me,” Peeta said, “but it’s not even your house.” She lived there, but the lease was in his name. Her official address was an empty condo in Van Nuys, so that people wouldn’t figure out they were shacked up together. He hated the cloak and dagger bullshit, but she’d insisted.

Katniss froze, face twisted in disgust. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

Before Peeta even had a chance to respond, the door was slamming behind her.

Peeta knew, even before she’d gotten to her car, that he was wrong. But he was angry, angry with his mother, angry with his brother, and pissed as hell that Katniss insisted on hiding, like he was some dirty secret instead of the man she’d been dating for two years.

She didn’t come home that evening. Peeta wasn’t completely surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d frozen him out. He’d give her the night, then apologize in the morning.

But when morning came, his phone had blown up with texts. TMZ was running a spread of pictures, grainy and obviously through a long lens. Katniss, standing on a balcony, and not alone. With her was Gale-fucking-Hawthorne, her ex. She was locked in his embrace wearing only a robe, while he was in boxers. The gossip sites were having a field day, former lovers reunited.

Peeta, still in bed, dialed his phone. She answered on the second ring, voice hoarse. “Are you with Gale?” Peeta asked with no preamble.

There was the slightest of pauses. “Yes,” Katniss said.

“You couldn’t fucking wait to go rushing back to his bed?” Peeta yelled. “Or maybe you never really left?”

The line died in his hand. It was the last time they’d spoken, until now.

o-o-o

Katniss made no further attempt to talk to Peeta, outside of what they said on the soundstage. She’d doubled down on the ice princess routine, speaking to him in cold, overly formal tones when the cameras weren’t rolling.

 Working with Annie Cresta hadn’t gotten any better either, but at least they’d managed to memorise a routine—hand here, thigh there, twist this way, arch like that. Annie insisted it would look a lot more natural than it felt. Peeta wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the thing done.

The scene was set for late afternoon, after the rest of principal photography was done for the episode and the lion’s share of cast and crew had left. “Saving the best for last,” Cressida chirped, but no one really believed that.

Katniss had a rider in her contract specifying no nudity, Peeta knew that. He hadn’t bothered with one himself, he didn’t care who saw him, but Katniss had always been uncomfortable baring everything. In other scenes, the production sometimes used a body double for Katniss. But this scene, the scene, would be her and him, on a bed, doing choreographed dry humping. It had to be her, there wasn’t any other choice.

Haymitch wasn’t on set, something Peeta suspected was Katniss’s doing, but he appreciated it. The crew was at a bare minimum, to make it easier for the actors, but it was still a lot of people. Cressida was directing, busily setting up the scene. Two female grips he’d never met before were behind the stationary cameras, two of his favourite camera guys—Castor and Pollox—had the handhelds. Two more grips had the boom mics, a gaffer adjusted the lights, and a set designer, Octavia, was fussing over the bedding, rumpling it in an artistic way that Peeta knew from rehearsal would last about twelve seconds before they destroyed it. Annie, strangely, was nowhere to be seen. He’d thought that, as their intimacy coordinator, she’d be there to coach when they actually filmed. Apparently not.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cressida called out, affecting a carefree tone. Peeta knew it was an act, an attempt to get all of them to relax. The antagonism and animosity between the two leads wasn’t exactly a secret, not anymore, and the mood on the small soundstage was tense. No one was looking forward to this.

Katniss had seen him naked a thousand times, had touched and stroked and tasted every inch of his body. Still, it was strange, even on a closed set, to be standing in front of her wearing nothing but a sock tied to his dick. She was clutching the edges of her pink silk robe so tightly her knuckles were white, and looking everywhere but at him.

Cinna approached and helped Katniss out of her robe, careful not to disrupt the cascade of windblown curls Peeta knew had likely taken an hour and several cans of product to achieve. Katniss’s hair was naturally pin straight, yet they were always curling it in the show, and she hated it. So focussed was Peeta on her hair that he didn’t notice what she was wearing until Cinna stepped away, leaving Katniss standing beside the bed in a pair of pasties and an adhesive pad that covered her pubic hair and not much else. Peeta couldn’t help but stare. It was far less than he was expecting, Annie had told him Katniss would be wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties and a little tube top over her boobs. “The sides of her underwear showed in the test shots,” Castor muttered in his ear. “Haymitch insisted on that instead.”

For half a minute, Peeta felt really bad for Katniss, knowing her discomfort, knowing what it was costing her to stand under the lights and in front of so many people wearing little more than three bandaids. But then she sighed, and barked, “can we just get this over with?” and any sympathy Peeta felt for her evaporated like spring snow.

The scene opened with them both on the bed. They’d practiced the routine, both on floor mats and on a set bed. But in rehearsal, they’d been clothed, pillows between them to minimise contact.

No longer.

Now, they were essentially naked, skin pressed to skin, staring wide-eyed at each other. She was so soft under him, fit him so perfectly. Her breath—sharp, nervous little pants—caressed his jaw, his throat. Her hands, small but so much stronger than they looked, clutched at this back.

His dick twitched and hardened, he couldn’t fucking help it. They’d fucked a thousand times over the previous two years, he’d always been insanely attracted to her. His dick didn’t know that this time it wasn’t real. He clenched his teeth and kept going. There was no way, positioned as they were, to prevent her from feeling it. 

Katniss smirked at him, just a fleeting little hint of amusement, but coupled with his embarrassment at getting turned on when the ice fucking queen clearly felt nothing it was too much. Rage flooded his veins like venom. He sneered down at Katniss, uncaring if the handycam caught his expression. Then he deliberately rocked against her, rubbing his hard cock against her core, only a little strip of fabric and a glorified sock between them. 

Her breath caught, a choked little sound. 

“Like that, princess?” he spat, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You like knowing that you can still get me hot?”

She moaned softly. It just made him angrier. Was she acting, or actually responding? Was she thinking about Gale while he was grinding against her? Had she always been thinking about him?

The few lines he was supposed to say flew out of his head. “Does your boyfriend get you hot like this?” he groaned instead, anger and lust combining. “Do you moan for him like you did for me?” Her hands, which had been moving through the choreography much more fluidly than in rehearsal suddenly froze. “Does he fill you up as good as I did?”

“Peeta,” Katniss whispered, a hint of warning in her tone. But he was too mad. Mad and heartsick and wildly turned on, it was a potent brew. He couldn’t stop. He ground harder against her, his chest rasping against her breasts, bare but for a pair of stickers. He nipped at her earlobe with sharp teeth, and her gasp was loud over his harsh breaths.

“Do you melt for him, ice princess?” She said nothing, but he didn’t care. He angled his hips and thrust hard, the way he knew she liked. He rocked over and over again, forgetting about the others in the room, lost in Katniss, however fake it might be.

“Do you want to give them a show,” he growled against her throat. “Take off the guard? One last fuck, for old times sake?”

“Stop,” she said, so faintly it was barely a breath. “Please.” Peeta pulled back. Beneath him, Katniss’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. The anger rushed away, leaving him horrified and utterly ashamed. 

He rolled away and climbed off the bed. “Need a break,” he grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katniss had curled onto her side, facing away, naked and vulnerable. The need to comfort her battled with the sick feeling in his gut over how cruel he’d been. How completely unlike himself.

Cressida called out to him, but he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Couldn’t stay another minute on that set.

He pushed past Castor who was staring open-mouthed, the camera on his shoulder still blinking as it ran, and stomped to his dressing room. There, he sank into a chair, the leather sticking to his bare ass. He pulled the modesty bag off his now-deflated cock and dropped his head into his hands.

How had it gotten to this?

How had he gotten to the point where he was tormenting the woman he loved more than life with fake sex on their job site? Bullying her to tears in front of their crew. 

He was disgusted with himself. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to go to Katniss and apologise, for more than just the scene. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’d calmed down and thrown on sweats. Katniss’s dressing room door was closed, but he knew she wasn’t in there. He walked past the small set and the little office Annie had used, but he knew she wouldn’t be there either.

Down the hall, past craft services stood the door to the electrical room. It was never locked. Peeta pushed inside. Past all of the clutter and detritus of broken light stands and boxes of cables was another door, narrow and unmarked. A steep set of metal stairs lay beyond it, and at the top a door he had to duck to walk through.

Then he was standing on the roof, a soft Burbank breeze ruffling his hair.

It wasn’t anything special, this part of the roof, gravel-topped and housing the building’s HVAC system. But it was their spot, a place no one else ever went. A place they could find some measure of solitude in the midst of a busy studio. No one ever disturbed them up here.

Katniss was sitting on the low ledge that bisected the roof, wrapped in a robe, her pink silk clad back to him. He knew she must have heard his approach, the gravel beneath him crunched with every step. But she didn’t move, didn’t react as he straddled the cement to lower himself beside her.

She didn’t turn towards him, but she didn’t need to. Her profile said everything: smudged makeup, red nose, puffy eyes. The breeze caught loose tendrils of her hair, blowing them around her face but she was still and silent save for her uneven breaths. An island in a tempest. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, past the endless parking lots and low studio buildings to where the sun was sinking low, bathing the sky in soft orange. Her silence wasn’t icy tonight. Pain radiated from every line, every curve.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta started. Katniss nodded, her posture otherwise unchanged. “I was a complete dick in there, and you didn’t deserve any of that. It was inexcusable.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I don’t want to go on like this. Making out for the cameras, then ignoring each other when they’re off. I was hoping that if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at being friends?” It would certainly make their jobs a lot easier.

“I’ve never slept with Gale,” she said softly, and Peeta startled. That wasn’t even possible. She’d run right back to him, was living with him again.

As if reading his mind, Katniss continued. “He’s been a good friend to me, a brother in some ways. But we’ve never had a physical relationship.”

“Bullshit,” Peeta sputtered, conciliatory tone gone. “You were with him for years.”

Katniss glanced at him then, a half smirk twisting her lips. “You were with Johanna for years too,” she said.

“You know that wasn’t real. And Gale isn’t gay.”

Katniss shrugged, and turned back to the horizon. 

Peeta continued to watch her. He knew all of her expressions, her every tell. She wasn’t lying.

“Why,” he started, then stopped. That wasn’t the question he really needed an answer to. “You let me think you were together.”

“Maybe I wanted to hurt you,” she whispered. “Like you hurt me.”

Mission accomplished, he thought. He’d been in fucking agony since he saw the TMZ pictures, and the ones that followed; Katniss and Gale riding in his convertible, Katniss and Gale leaving a trendy LA cafe, Katniss and Gale sipping wine on the balcony of his oceanfront estate. It had been a form of masochism, adding her name to his news alerts and reading the day's gossip about her blossoming relationship with Gale Hawthorne.

Could it really have all been fake?

Katniss and Gale had been on the same sitcom as children, had played cousins. So when, years later, they moved in together, of course everyone assumed they were together. They’d certainly never done anything to contradict it.

“You never mentioned that before,” Peeta said quietly. Not that Gale’s name had come up often in their time together, but they’d talked about past relationships, and she’d never said that Gale had been nothing more than a friend. She’d really never said anything about her years with Gale, and that had always made Peeta insecure, wondering if she’d still harboured feelings for him. If she kept their relationship a secret not from the world, but from Gale Hawthorne. Katniss shrugged.

“I didn’t think it would matter. You’re in the business, you know how often dating is just for show.”

He did. But he’d been upfront with Katniss about Jo, he’d never let her think there was anything there. That she hadn’t given him the same respect, hadn’t trusted him, was gutting.

“He kissed me, once,” Katniss said, and Peeta’s stomach clenched in inappropriate jealousy. “I was seventeen. It was the summer after we’d both finished filming Seam Street, but before he got his big break on that superhero movie. Back when we thought we might still be normal.” She was smiling sadly, lost in the moment. “We both gagged,” she continued, and Peeta’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Katniss laughed softly, but it wasn’t at Peeta. It was at whatever she was remembering. “All of those childhood friends to lovers tropes, it definitely wasn’t like that for me and Gale. Kissing him was…” Katniss trailed off, shuddering. “I love Gale, he’s mine, I’m his. But not like that.

“But it didn’t matter. Once the media decided we were together, they invented stories. Every time we went anywhere together, they took pictures and manipulated them to fit whatever story they’d decided to write about us that week.” Katniss sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “We couldn’t have a life, outside of each other. Anytime either of us was seen with another person, the tabloids went crazy. I got my own place, tried to put some distance there. But it didn’t stop.

“And after he started dating Claudia, it all got worse,” she said. “The media, and fans who decided that he and I belonged together, they couldn’t let it go. They hounded her incessantly, called her a homewrecker and things far worse. Trolled her on social media, harassed her family, and anything either of us tried to get them to back off only made things worse. When she finally broke things off with him, he blamed me, at least a bit.” She paused, and sniffled. “It’s why we’ve barely talked over the past few years. First because it bothered Claudia, and then because Gale was so pissed off. It came close to destroying our friendship.”

Peeta sat in stunned silence as realisation washed over him. “That’s why you wanted to keep us a secret,” he said. “You were protecting me.” 

“Private,” she said. “Not secret. And that’s what you and I do, protect each other. Or did,” she added softly. 

But he hadn’t protected her. Not on the set, and not from his brother’s vitriol.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said. “I shouldn’t have let Rye talk shit about you. And I shouldn’t have been all defensive when you rightly called me on it.”

She nodded again, but didn’t turn towards him. And he didn’t know how to bridge the gulf. He’d been wrong, on so many levels. But she hadn’t trusted him, and still didn’t. She could have eased so many of his insecurities just by being honest. But she hadn’t.

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to be with her again, this time with more openness and honesty. To build a better relationship, one they both deserved. He wasn’t sure if it was possible with so much hurt between them. But he wanted to try. He just needed to get Katniss on the same page, and he knew from experience that wasn’t likely to be easy. 

“We should go back,” Peeta said what felt like an hour later. The sun was almost gone, and though the air still held the perpetual California heat, Katniss was shivering in the breeze. “I’m done being a wounded prick, I promise.”

Katniss turned to him, finally. She still looked so sad, with her red eyes and ruined makeup. His heart clenched. “Cressida called shooting for the day,” she said. “Didn’t think either of us was in a good place to continue.” Haymitch would doubtless be pissed, any disruption in the schedule was tens of thousands of dollars wasted. Peeta sighed, but he knew it was the right call. 

“Probably for the best,” Peeta said. “We’re a mess.”

Katniss laughed, just slightly, and Peeta grinned at her. When he extended his hand to help her up, she took it, and it felt so good to feel her fingers entwined with his again, not for show but in actual friendship.

They walked back to the dressing rooms together. “Do you maybe want to get dinner together?” Peeta asked, and he knew he sounded small and uncertain. But to his surprise, Katniss nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They walked out to the lot thirty minutes later, and Peeta led her to his car. She was wearing jeans and a little tank top, her hair pulled back in a no-fuss braid and a pair of sunglasses shielding eyes that still bore traces of the evening’s emotions. She was in every way Katniss, the woman he loved. But he could feel her holding back, feel the stiffness and uncertainty in the way she looked at him, spoke to him. Not intentional, simply reflexive, like she was trying to keep her heart safe. From him. The wall between them loomed large. It was going to take a Herculean effort to break it down.

There was a restaurant, Sae’s, not too far from the house they’d shared. It catered to people like them. The front was nothing so much as a shabby little diner, but in the back were private, windowless rooms where they could have a meal without prying eyes.

Peeta ordered pasta and Katniss got her favourite goat cheese and apple panini. But the way she pushed the food around on her plate spoke to how distressed she still was. Katniss typically ate with gusto, like she was afraid she’d never see food again. 

He left her be, keeping conversation light, trying to ease her back into being comfortable with him. Joking with her, the way he always had. She smiled, but it felt hollow. If anything, she seemed to get more sad as the meal wore on. Peeta’s spirits flagged.

He paid the bill, and they headed out the back door. There, he stopped, and pulled Katniss to stand in front of him. 

“Talk to me,” Peeta said, voice gruff with guilt.

“About what?” She wasn’t being flippant, if anything, she sounded defeated.

“Katniss,” he sighed. She looked up at him, eyes unfathomable, dark pools in the lamplight. He could tell she was trying to psych herself up to talk. So he leaned against the restaurant wall and waited.

“I’m sorry, okay,” she said finally, and it wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry that keeping us a secret hurt you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Peeta opened his mouth, to say he understood better now, but she pushed on.

“And it didn’t mean I loved you any less.”

“Loved?” Her use of past tense gutted him. “Not anymore?”

In the deep shadows of the single street light, he could see her face crumple. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if shielding herself from another blow. “Does it matter?” Her words were choked, he could hear she was fighting tears again. “I know what you think of me.”

“Katniss,” he said, the word regret-soaked. 

“Frigid little ice princess,” she parroted, but there was no anger. Only pain. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Peeta said. “I know that’s not you.” She played at being cold sometimes. But underneath, she was a flame, burning bright.

“Everyone thinks that about me. They always have.”

“I don’t,” Peeta said, and he let the pleading come through in his voice, let her hear his own pain. “I know you’re not cold. You’re the girl on fire.” Katniss’s lips twitched at the old nickname, one she’d gotten as a teenager in an action movie. But her heartbroken expression didn’t change. “I was angry, and wounded, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, then she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Peeta pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. It was the first time he’d felt whole in more than two weeks, like the broken piece of his soul had returned. 

Her little body shook against him, he knew she was crying. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her back. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” It was. He’d make sure of it.

“Just missed you so much,” she muttered. His heart soared.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Please come home.” 

She didn’t say anything. But he felt her nod against his chest. And it was enough.

He took her back to his place, to their place. They were both exhausted, emotions raw, and had an early morning call, to redo the evening’s ruined scene. But she climbed into bed beside him, and he held her all night.

They were quiet the next morning, tentative and uncertain around each other, but they were together, and Peeta was committed to making things better, for both of them. He’d be patient. He’d communicate better. He’d lost the love of his life once, he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

They climbed back into his car, since hers was at the studio, but as soon as the garage door opened Peeta saw Rye there, waving his phone. Beside him, Katniss tensed, and shrank down into her seat. He could almost smell her pain. Just fucking great. The moron had to show up now, when they had barely started patching things together. 

“I’ve been calling you all morning,” Rye said as soon as Peeta stepped out of the car. It was just past eight, Rye didn’t typically get up before noon. Peeta suspected he hadn’t yet been to bed.

“Go home, Rye,” Peeta said. “This isn’t the time.”

“They’re saying this is you and that Everdeen chick,” Rye insisted, shaking his phone in Peeta’s face. Sure enough, on the screen was a dark and blurry shot of him, holding Katniss in his arms. Her face wasn’t visible, but her long black braid and sweet little ass were perfectly recognisable. Fuck. He thought they’d be safe at Sae’s. But he’d been wrong. Again. “I already told the Hollywood Reporter it was fake, that you wouldn’t slum with the likes of that—”

“Shut up!” Peeta roared, and for once, Rye stopped talking. “Katniss is the woman I love, and I won’t listen to you disparage her anymore,” Peeta said. “Now get the fuck out of here and stop fucking talking to the media about me.” Peeta was seething. He was going to make sure that security guard was fired. Maybe his boss too. And his boss’s boss.

Rye backed away, hands held up in supplication. “Sure, yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair. We’ll talk more later, yeah?”

Peeta didn’t dignify that with an answer. He spun on his heel, to head back to the car. But Katniss was there already, standing just behind him. She must have heard everything they’d said, and worse, Rye would have seen her there. He flinched, but she just smiled at him, then walked straight into his arms.

“Thank you,” she said. 

Fuck. She didn’t need to thank him for defending her, it’s what any decent person would do. “I should have said that last time,” he admitted, tightening his hold on her.

“You said it this time,” she said. Then she stretched up onto her toes, and kissed him.

Relief and disbelief and so much love flooded Peeta. He cupped her ass in his hands and hoisted her into his arms, his lips never leaving hers.

He knew Rye was watching. Knew that some of their neighbours could see them too. “We should go back to the garage,” he whispered between kisses that were growing too hot for the street. “People are watching.”

“Let them,” she gasped. “I don't want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”

He laughed against her lips, and kissed her more.

o-o-o

She was sitting in her favourite chair, a mug of camomile tea forgotten beside her, when Peeta got home. He glanced at the television glowing on the wall and groaned. “Access Hollywood? Really?” Katniss, his Katniss, was watching the creme de la creme of shitty tabloid TV. 

Their relationship had been dissected endlessly by the gossip shows in the four months since they’d been outed, first by his attention-seeking mother, then by a slightly risqué public display of affection in front of their house that had been captured on cellphone video by multiple sources. Peeta understood so much better now why Katniss had tried so hard to avoid unwanted exposure. He was sick to death of the coverage.

But they were handling it together. 

“Shhh,” she said, grinning. “They’re discussing whether we really did the deed while shooting Allium and Barley’s big scene.” Peeta glanced back at the television. The banner read 15 Times 'Love' Scenes On Screen Were Real.

“Oh my god,” Peeta groaned, and sank into the chair beside Katniss’s, covering his face with his hands.

The day after their disastrous first attempt at filming, they’d gone back to the set and found Haymitch waiting for them. The crusty old bastard had actually apologised for putting them in such a shitty position, and told them he’d take the scene out, make it a fade to black.

“No,” Katniss had said, silver eyes brighter than they’d been all week. “The script needs the scene. Our fans need it. And we’re ready this time.”

The second attempt had been so much better. It was still awkward, the choreography still felt strange. One of her pasties came unstuck and ended up caught in his chest hair. Twice they had to cut filming when Katniss started giggling. 

Peeta had been loath to watch it, once it’d been edited. Afraid to reopen the barely healing wounds. But the end result, just as Annie promised, looked real. The cameras caught their very real joy at being reunited, their very real love for one another. And those things made the very fake sex look like something more.

They’d filmed several more sex scenes over the course of finishing the season, each easier than the last. Communication, it turned out, did make the scenes less awkward. And it helped with their real relationship too.

But the first scene, the one that Peeta still cringed thinking about, that episode had aired just days ago.

The television sound cut off abruptly and Katniss burst into laughter. Peeta peeked out from between his fingers. Frozen on the big screen was a shot of Peeta’s ass in all of its hi-def glory, and Mario Lopez was pointing to a spot just between his thighs where apparently a hint of nutsack had been caught by the camera. 

Well that brought unwanted exposure to a whole new level. 

Peeta groaned. “I’m putting a nudity rider in my next contract,” he mumbled.

[undertheinfluencerd]

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The Voyeurs, premiering through Amazon Prime Video on September 10, is an intense erotic thriller that deftly combines voyeurism and ennui. The story starts with one young couple Pippa (Sydney Sweeney, Euphoria) and Thomas (Justice Smith, Detective Pikachu) on the verge of a life together in their new apartment, but soon takes a turn when they learn they can see a little too much of their neighbors’ lives.

Said neighbors (played by EastEenders‘ Ben Hardy and The Greatest Showman‘s Natasha Bordizzo) start to become more interesting and consuming to Pippa than her own life and relationship, much to Thomas’ dismay. But the real danger begins when she stops seeing them through a window and binoculars and starts meeting them face to face.

Related: 10 Best Erotic Thrillers, Ranked By IMDb

Sweeney and Smith spoke with Screen Rant about how they approached the more intimate scenes in the film, what lies behind the surface of Pippa and Thomas’ relationship, and what their director’s preferred nickname is.

This couple seems very much in love, and yet they’re at a place where spying on their neighbors is their idea of a good time. Did you talk with each other or with Michael about the road that led here?

Justice Smith: Yeah, I think that Thomas and Pippa have different ideas about what they’re doing at the top. Thomas is very happy in this next step of settling down with Pippa, getting this lease and creating this life together. And Pippa still is yearning for excitement, and she doesn’t want to settle down too much.

So, when they get a glimpse of their neighbors, Thomas sees it as something light and fun. And Pippa does too, but it evolves into something different for the two of them.

Sydney Sweeney: [Something] darker.

Sydney, I know that you brought your intimacy coordinator from Euphoria over to The Voyeurs. How did that help the collaboration in those intimate scenes that you do?

Sydney Sweeney: The role of intimacy coordinators is – there’s multiple roles that they hold – to be your voice when sometimes you feel pressured or nervous or just can’t speak up in the moment. Also, they’re there to provide breath mints, gum, and they also have yoga pads so you’re really touching each other. There’s so many things that go on behind the scenes, because it’s very technical – it’s not as intimate as you think they are.

But having Amanda, who I’ve worked with [many times] – she came from Euphoria, she also came to The White Lotus and worked with [Alexandra Daddario and Jake Lacy] – she knows her shit. She makes sure that, if we’re doing a scene multiple times, she’ll come and be like, “Alright, I think that they’re about done. You have one more take.” She’s really good at just being observant and sensing how you are feeling.

Justice Smith: Yeah, she’s in your corner. But then, at the same time, she’s a choreographer. She’s making sure that it looks real and believable, and it’s this balance.

Sydney Sweeney: It’s really funny – sometimes you think you’re doing it and then, on the screen, they’re like, “That wasn’t right.”

Justice Smith: There’s clearly nothing happening.

Sydney Sweeney: I do want to say that Mike –

Justice Smith: You call Michael “Mike?” Ben also calls Michael “Mike.” I’ve always called him Michael. Is his name Mike? Everyone calls him Mike but me. Why don’t I get to call him Mike?

Sydney Sweeney: You have a special relationship with him.

Michael is the most kindhearted human being; he embodies the word kind. So, there was never one moment where I felt I needed Amanda to speak up for on my behalf or Amanda needed to. He really was so thoughtful and took to heart how intense and physical and intimate these scenes were. So, having the mix of Amanda and Michael was like the safest space you could be in.

Justice Smith: [It’s wild] how he wrote a script this dark and intense, because he is so nice and sweet.

Without spoilers, what theme did you most take away from the film or from your character?

Justice Smith: There’s this theme of – obviously, voyeurism – but also a privacy-publicity comparison and obsession.

But with my character, specifically, it was this idea of not being enough. I think that’s what a lot of people struggle with. I think that we’re constantly told we’re not enough through different avenues. We’re not enough if we don’t buy that house or have a nuclear family or have kids or buy that product or pursue our dreams. There’s all this pressure to be something, and a lot of people feel like they’re not, they’re unfulfilled. So, I liked playing a personification of that.

More: Sydney Sweeney’s 10 Best Movie & TV Roles

The Voyeurs arrives September 10 through Amazon Prime Video.

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[yessadirichards]

Ita O'Brien: In-demand on-screen intimacy coordinator

LONDON

Britain's Ita O'Brien is one of cinema's unsung stars, ensuring actors are comfortable filming their most sensitive scenes in a job she has made her own.

The 56-year-old intimacy coordinator has been a key figure behind the sex scenes in acclaimed series such as "I May Destroy You", "Sex Education" and "Normal People".

Preserving the intimacy of an artist filming a rape depiction, setting up a sex scene with a virgin actor and identifying the limits each actor is comfortable with are all issues that O'Brien is regularly confronted with.

A typical conversation she regularly has with stars, she told AFP, goes along the lines: "He is going put his hand here, you put yours there and then you start the fellatio."

She sees her role as one of ensuring "open communication" between the director and the actors on all intimate scenes that may include kissing, nudity or sex.

"This is a process by which we bring our professional structure to intimacy" allowing the on-screen stars to "bring all of the skills of the actor to this moment," she added. "We agree on a consent of touch and then a clear process by which we choreograph the intimate contact clearly. So it's just like dance."

Each scene will be discussed then rehearsed beforehand, away from the glare of the dozens of people usually present on a set.

"When the camera rolls or they're up on stage, they know that they can perform that intimate contact, knowing where they're going to be touched," she said.

At the heart of her philosophy is consent, in an industry which has been rocked in recent years by sexual assault claims.

Her motto, which she says she often repeats to actors, is "your 'no' is a gift. Tell us your 'no', so that we can trust your 'yes.'"

O'Brien was a dancer in the theater for 10 years and then an actress for eight before she sensed an opportunity and became an intimacy coordinator in 2014.

It was a pioneering move at a time when actors' consent was little talked about, and before the #MeToo movement against sexual abuse and sexual harassment.

Before then, "if an actor ever said 'no', they'd be a troublemaker, or a diva and they would certainly be worried about losing their job... that's absolutely what the situation was then", she recalled.

In such an environment, she described her early days in the role as "incredibly hard".

"I've had productions where I've been told not to speak to the director," she said. "I'm serving the director's vision, but the director doesn't want to speak to me because he's a 74-year-old man, who basically doesn't want to acknowledge my existence."

On other occasions, she said she was not allowed on the set because the actors or director did not want her help.

Attitudes have since changed a lot.

The profession is becoming more popular and O'Brien is in high demand, especially after Michaela Coel dedicated her best actress BAFTA win this year for "I May Destroy You" to her.

"Thank you Ita for making a space safe, for creating physical emotional and professional boundaries, so we can make work about exploitation, loss of respect, about abuse of powers, without being exploited or abused in the process," she said.

Coel calls the job of intimacy coordinator "essential".

"I know what it's like to shoot without an intimacy director -- the messy, embarrassing feeling for the crew, the internal devastation for the actor," she explained.

O'Brien said this is true for all intimate scenes, but even more so for rape scenes, in which actors need "a really clear frame for the choreography of the assault, so that they're really anchored in the physical dance".

"The person playing the victim, of course you have to take care of them, but actually the person playing the perpetrator is really having to go to that place in themselves in order to be able to tell their story."

This requires a lot of discussion and rehearsal, honing techniques that allow the actors to "let go, wash away and step back from what you're playing", she added.

"Good communication skills" are therefore essential, she said.

Having someone "immersed in the acting process" and who possesses "a body awareness... so that we can be precise and detailed with body parts" is also required, she added.

Given the growing demand, she is trying to pass on the skills.

"I need to train up more" but "haven't got the capacity to take on more people at the moment," she said.

She plans to train in France soon, celebrating that her role is finally "recognized and understood" even in a country known for its "comfortableness with nudity".

[bigyack-com]

Oregon Shakespeare Festival Hires a Resident Intimacy Director

Just a few years ago, intimacy direction was such a new practice in the theater that hiring someone to choreograph sex scenes was almost unheard of. Then along came #MeToo, and awareness rapidly began to shift. By last summer, intimacy direction was on Broadway.Now Oregon Shakespeare Festival, one of the nation’s leading regional theaters, has upped the ante, hiring a resident intimacy director, Sarah Lozoff, for all 11 productions in its 2020 season.In a field that so far has relied largely on show-by-show contracts for intimacy directors, a salaried position with benefits is a significant step.“It’s huge,” said Tonia Sina of the organization Intimacy Directors and Coordinators, which certifies intimacy directors for stage and screen work.“It confirms that the company has made a promise to keep their actors emotionally and mentally safe — that they have made that a priority,” Sina said. “It’s not just like an add-on: ‘Get in there and choreograph that kiss.’ This is somebody who is going to be there for them all season.”The position is variously called intimacy director, choreographer or coordinator. The job in any case is to safeguard the actors in vulnerable situations, getting their consent for each step along the way while working to realize the director’s vision.Corinna Schulenburg, a spokesperson for Theater Communications Group, a service organization for American nonprofit theaters, said that at least a couple of smaller companies across the country have resident intimacy directors, but none that would “be considered flagship theaters” like Oregon Shakespeare Festival.Evren Odcikin, the festival’s interim associate artistic director, said in a news release on Thursday that the “naming of intimacy direction as an essential artistic resource” would “have long-lasting impact at our institution and nationwide.”The company, in Ashland, Ore., is known for the often political bent of its work, including plays like Lynn Nottage’s “Sweat” and Robert Schenkkan’s “All the Way,” both of which went on to Broadway. Read the full article