Episode 821-829

A little known side-effect of performance enhancing drugs: the uncontrollable urge to play Sexy Santa. Just say no! (It is, however, the perfect illustration of DRAMATIC IRONY.)

Welcome to what might well be one of the most frustrating episodes ever. We've got Stella being so loyal to Roman that we can't bring ourselves to dislike her. We've got Roman pouring himself over Deniz (looks like someone's been taking oozing lessons), followed by the worst editing decision ever in the history of Show, followed by a fully dressed Deniz in the living room. (We assume they needed more condoms?) Then we've got Santa seduction (why wasn't this just a cracky dream, why?) bleeding into an unswerving display of Deniz's trust (love, shouldn't the Santa suit tell you something's wrong?) and eyeflash of pain to end all eyeflashes.

However, BEDROOM! Which is purple-y with sparkly cushions and a crazy lot of trophies. We had a hard time believing the boys would have plants until we realised that that's where Nina hid the cameras. And a futon? After seeing how restlessly Roman sleeps? Right. But we reckon the good mattress is still in the Dungeon Room covered in plastic sheets.

Today in the Igloo's well-equipped dungeon room, which is not for the faint of heart:

AWZ, Mistress of Pain: You wanted more bed scenes? Oh, but certainly! Mind if I use them to slice open your hearts a bit? And sprinkle some salt into the open wounds? And what?! You were lamenting the absence of make-out sessions on the weight bench? HERE! Have some! But only if you open wide and swallow the bitter angst and wallow in the breaking of trust at the same time. No, seriously, open. NOW. And oooooooh, what have we here? I do believe some of you had the temerity, the sheer gall, to complain about the lack of steamy shower scenes lately? Oh, my pretties, my sweet plump innocent puddings, I'll make you wish you hadn't. HERE. HAVE A SHOWER SCENE. Don't say I never give you any treats. But lovelies, this is a big treat. For this, I'll have to hurt you. I'll have to hurt you a lot. And you're going to love it. And then, when you're all raw and open and bleeding, I'm going to make you beg me for more. How does that sound?

EKP, eager masochists: *whimper* Sounds... awesome... bring it, Mistress, please... OMG... ow.

...If you've had to resort to your safe word with this last round of hurt, you're not alone. C'mon over here for some well-deserved comfort and roll around in the utter adorableness of AWZ's latest cast addition and EKP's newest favourite girltoy, Katja Bergmann (Annette and Lena's younger half-sister of whose existence they did not know - HELLO SOAP!). Behold the cuteness! Behold the freckles! Behold the fact that SHE CAN ACTUALLY SKATE (well, when she's not waylaid by handsome artist/boxer hybrids). Katja is played by the lovely Anna-Katharina Samsel, who's won several titles in figure skating and roller skating. Like Ben, her plots will probably not overlap much with the boys' for now (at least not until our combined willpower compels them to both move into Casa WildTurkey for wild flatshare orgies) but we plan on fangirling her any chance we get anyway. Be prepared :-D

In which the boys have hardly any dialogue at all, so we were going to do a SHORT descrip - really. But then somehow we ended up with an homage to Roman Wild and the ice in quotes and fanvids instead. Don't ask us how.

"I finally want to have that feeling again... on the ice. Just before the music starts... when you close your eyes and know, 'Now's the moment when I have to give everything'."

~Roman Wild, episode 801

"Roman pushed the question from his head as he pushed off from the boards, letting himself slide across the uneven surface and hoping the rise and fall would soothe his spirit. His toe pick snagged on a chunk of ice, but he welcomed the roughness; he was in no mood for unspoiled purity tonight. Raw power was what he craved, cracks to stumble on, an obstacle to rage against, a wall to pound against until his knuckles came up bruised and bloodied. But no, as much as he might want that, it wasn't who he was. His release came in the thrill of rising into the air, in the delight of flying on a thin sliver of steel. Power and precision and discipline, all these he'd nurtured his whole life, and now they sliced the glossy surface like a scissor through raw silk."

~Lilithilien, "Wahr"

"No matter the things that happen on or near it, the ice draws Roman anyway. Its gleaming surface does not retain past defeats, botched jumps, falls. Figuratively and literally, it's constantly being resurfaced, bumps levelled and grooves filled, leaving behind nothing but a blank, perfect canvas for him to graft himself onto, reclaiming it with the figures he makes of his body. The ice is more than practice ground, more than a means to an end. It's home."

~Aldiara, "In This Home On Ice"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OzYF-RMNTQ

~Shellydkitty, "Das Eis lügt nicht"

Roman quits. Axel taunts. Richard schemes. André, Randy, and the other fanboys swoon. Elsewhere, Ricky blogs about why Roman & Deniz both suck, and not in the good way.

And Deniz wins "Boyfriend of the Year" award for being practically perfect in every way.

But there needs to be more talking. Lots more talking. And some listening, with less assuming. (We're looking at you, Roman.) Don't get us wrong, we adore this cosy chemistry and the hints that these guys talk, a lot, and intimately know each other's hopes and dreams. But after all the secrets and deception lately, we need some real communication here. And a big fat SORRY served with a side of THANK YOU covered in YOU ROCK sauce.

Dear Roman: When speechifying about how you're older than dirt (nice Galadriel impersonation there, btw, all "I shall diminish and go into the West"), it's considered polite to TRY and look a bit older than seventeen so the rest of the world doesn't feel quite so... tired.

Dear Deniz: If you turn any more adorable, you'll make baby seals look stroppy, the polar caps will melt, and the Igloo may suffer structural damage. Stop messing with the natural order of the universe.

Dear Katja: Okay, sister, so we're embracing your dorky sass, your evil mirror twin and your klutztastic, head-ducking, permanent-foot-in-mouth cuteness and are generously overlooking all the pre-loved plot elements, but c'mon, Freckles, meet us halfway: DITCH. THE HEARTBEATS. PLEASE. Ben's a dish and a half, granted, but resist the evil siren call of Show-imposed OTP-ness! Keep an open mind! Look around! Like, Constanze's RIGHT THERE. Just saying.

The last 30 eps in fast-forward: So Richard cheated on Simone with Celine, remember? (We're sure you do. It's that scene that no amount of brainbleach can erase.) Simone decided to crush him, hired a blonde skating bimbo as bait, then decided it was all too much and buggered off to some private clinic, leaving Greasy Max and her meddling mum to babysit the Evil Plan. Jenny was on Richard's side at first, then saw him smooching Celine, AGAIN, and changed teams. Then the blonde skating bimbo accused Richard of sexual harassment, as per the Evil Plan. Now Jenny's pretending to Richard she's still on his side while secretly aligning with Max and Granny to bring him down but she's all TORTURED and CONFLICTED and WAN over it.

All of which teaches us what?

1) Evil von Altenburg schemes without Simone taste like unwashed feet.
2) Make like Deniz: Date a man whose family lives on the other side of the world.
3) All this would have been so much more interesting if Deniz had heard it from Constanze (while he was half-naked and she was tossing her hair) and had then rushed home to tell Roman, who would then have proceeded to tie him up and give him a spanking for gossiping. Le sigh.

Also, MaJe. Guys, we must talk. You make us sadface. Where has the summer's magic gone? All you ever do these days is exchange vaguely worried looks, have stale sex, and then share the bad kind of afterglow - the one where silence falls. Do something. Talk. Yell. Go on a motorbike tour. HAVE AN AWKWARD DINNER WITH THE BOYS. PLEASE.

Most people, upon seeing Jenny's shards-of-glass expression harden into tempered steel, would run far, far away. Apparently that blonde cook doesn't have the wits to do so. Instead she doles out uninvited and unwelcome advice until Jenny gets on her "gonna cut a bitch" face. Now, either Celine's got balls of steel (borrowing Marian's, perhaps? god knows he's not using them these days) or she lacks some vital self-preservation instinct. But then, she did cross Mönchen...

Whatevs. We can't bring ourselves to complain about anything that inspires Jenny to dance away her pain.

BTW, this is the first block by new director Matthias Paul, WHOM WE LOVE. Um. OK, not that we've seen any of his work yet, but he's very good at organising chairs and making hearts out of extension cords and being an all-around star. OR SO WE HEAR.