#And of course I'll be there with full make up wig and nose IF the Winchesters is renewed and use Cas to bring me back.. Hell yeah

[magnificent-winged-beast]

not jensen qrt jp and liking his tweet about saving windy but ignoring all of misha's posts regarding that matter. why is he always catering to jp? i don't fucking get it. 🙄

Anything about the Tall one, I don't care at all and try to stay away from him and his fanbase. So no drama here.

[neongalaxiie]

Hero and Villain are somehow both dressed up as clowns with different reactions

My first request?! :0 I'll try

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Hero grimaced, checking themselves out in the mirror. A rainbow wig sat on their head, their long hair spilling out underneath. The loose-fitting jumpsuit was riddled with different patterns and colors, and the long shoes were just plain clumsy. A red nose completed the look.

"This... is so embarrassing," Hero said. "Revolting, distasteful, utterly preposterous." They turned to Villain, who seemed to be suppressing a giggle. "Why am I even wearing this?"

The villain, similarly dressed, had the extra addition of face makeup. Their rosy cheeks lifted upward in a creepy smile that sent a shiver down Hero's spine.

"You don't look half bad." The villain's eyes glinted. "All you're missing is some blood."

The hero scoffed, crossing their arms. "Of course you'd say that. You, who are so obsessed with all things hor—"

Their sentence was cut short by the flash of a knife. Hero flinched backwards, bumping into the mirror. Their eyes landed on the handle of the knife pointed towards them, then flicked up to the villain's smirking face.

"Do it," the villain urged. "Make me proud."

The hero remained stunned for a full second before shaking their head. "Stop, you're crazy," they replied, pressing down on the villain's hand. "This isn't 2016, and oh my gosh—" Hero twirled around in distress, tugging at their real hair. "I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this stupid costume. Never again, I swear."

The hero sighed, staring at their reflection with a pout. Behind them, the villain glanced at their knife, still outstretched, before sheathing it and stepping up next to the hero, towering over them. The leaned over, as if telling a secret, and said, "Y'know, if it makes you better, you do actually look good like this."

The hero let out a startled laugh and focused on the villains reflection this time. "I gotta say, I never thought I'd see you looking so natural, not having to hide your true self."

The villain grinned. "You got me there."

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

Hope this was to your liking, anon :)

[dollimusprime]

MerryDollRound Fang came in today! She took a bit of a detour before arriving but all's well that ends well.

Unfortunately I took the crunchiest picture of her, but ah well. She's lovely; the chocolate milk resin is such a pretty cool brown. The sculpting is so nice, too.

It's rainy out today, so certainly not faceup weather, not sure when I'll get around to that. Until then, I'm just glad I thought to get some small pupil 12mm eyes and I'm really enjoying her wig. It's my first experience with lace front wigs, so I'm sure I'm making a ton of styling errors, but I like the style and the material is so soft and smooth.

She also gets to be my one (1) doll who actually uses her heel feet because I knew I'd bought heels in the right size but apparently the flat boots I got are MSD size. That's what happens when you forget what you ordered...

She should get a name soon enough, and hopefully get some pieces to style, too. And a faceup, of course. I'm thinking classic rock kinda gal.

[ID: A MerryDollRound Fang seated on her pink and white box. She's a small SD-size doll cast in a medium-tone cool brown resin. Her body is thin and bony. Her face is oval shaped, with relatively realistically-proportioned monolid eyes, a flat nose, and somewhat full lips. Her expression leans towards the pensive side of neutral. She has golden brown eyes and black hair that falls to her mid-back. Her hair has a widow's peak and a center part. She's wearing a purple tee, roughed-up denim shorts, and strappy black heels. End ID.]

[pinksilvace]

Hey fern, what if you dropped a top 10 favorite cats the musical characters list

omg 😳😳😳 maybe we could find out 😳😳😳

1: Alonzo

Surprise, surprise, I know. Silly little vain/uncertain/bravado guy. What is he doing. I just know he's so full of anxiety but he's also probably emotionally illiterate. He's SUCH a big bro figure in my brain in a number of ways, but mostly because I think he'd be the kind of guy to try and fix problems, fail, and dejectedly call for mom's help after the fact.

There's not much I can say about Alonzo that I haven't already said:

Here's where I ranted about his adjectives.

Here's where I ranted about his design for the Egg Cracker Bracket.

Goodness knows I've probably ranted across many many many tags as well. Idk man he's just so Gender to me and I think he's really funny and I love that he's a bit of a loser depending on how much the actor plays up the "uncertain" part of his character (the one that prominently comes to mind is here during Grizabella, the Mac scares, the end of M&R, and the IMMEDIATE change in demeanor during the Song of the Jellicles). I LOVEEEE that he's often shown to despise Tugger; it's such a funny dynamic. I love that different productions have him looking to Munkustrap, Skimbleshanks, and Cassandra for guidance. I love that fics make him a bit of an ass sometimes. For whatever gripes I have with Broadway revival choreo, I also love that it gave him some more character moments than he used to :D.

Every depiction of Alonzo I see gives me a new, interesting look at the character. I have yet to find one I dislike.

Aghhhh we've reached the point where this ranking gets really hard 😭😭😭 LMAO

2: Demeter

She was my favorite when I first got Really into cats circa 13 years old. I'll forever be bitter that she had no presence in 2019. She's LITERALLY the second most important character for the sake of the plot and they just LEFT HER OUT??? Just because she's hard to recognize after only a single watch or two??? hhhhhhhhhhhhh

The way actors portray her is ALWAYS entrancing. If cats is Subtext: The Musical, Demeter is Subtext: The Character. The Macavity number??? Come ON. The fact that she opens the show? Her reactions to literally everything??? Oughhhh sometimes she makes me want to chew on concrete.

Sometimes, there are portrayals of Demeter that I dislike, though. I guess it makes sense for a character whose words are skittish/cautious/paranoid, but sometimes, those traits seem to supercede her personality, which is always a shame. I particularly enjoy her interactions with Munkustrap and Bombalurina, of course, so when those are overshadowed by just how scared she is, I think it tends to weaken stuff overall. After all, those relationships thrive on how they interact and curb that fear.

I don't spend nearly enough time thinking about Demeter and it's an absolute travesty. Ma'am you are the heart and soul of the show to me. You keep everything thematically linked together. I love you

3: Munkustrap

I think that Munkustrap might be the definition of a comfort character for me. His mental health is rock solid. He's so dad-coded it's unreal. I desperately need to watch a production of Cats and only focus on Munkustrap, because his interactions with everybody are spectacular. There is so much character fit into this guy. He's also entertaining to me because I would NOT guess his adjectives, ever; they always come across as a characterization secondary to his role, and I like that quite a lot.

And oh my gosh, his DESIGN!!! I think Munkustrap has some of the prettiest makeup in the show, and his whole look is pleasingly cohesive. There's so much happening on his face, but when it's good, it's PHENOMENAL.

COME ONNNNNNNN, the HIGHLIGHTS on those WHISKERS??? The gradients on the cheeks and nose??? oooohhhhhhh it pleases me IMMENSELY. I also really like how the makeup blends into the wig, and the shape of the wig is also one of my favorites in the show - especially when it's a bit droopy, like Michael Gruber's in '98.

let's not forget about the collar

Anyway YEAH!!! He's one of my favorites to see actually moving onstage, consistently has a beautiful voice, and has some of my favorite relationships in the whole show :D

4: Admetus

This is a bit of a cheat listing. I really don't think about Admetus that much, but I would REALLY like to think about him more. I want to know what his deal is. Like Munkustrap, I think he has some fascinating relationships onstage that all present very differently - his time spent with Tumble/Pounce, Victoria, and Alonzo come to mind.

But also

THE MAKEUP

THIS LOOK WITH THE BIG LOWER LASHES??? GIRL HELP YOUR CAT IS GNC AS HELL. EASILY my favorite cats makeup look EVER. I know it's just because they have to slather on Mac's stuff later but I love that most of the face is left plain so they went absolutely ham with the eyes. It's the opposite of Munkustrap's. Brilliant.

anyway yeah he looks cool and I think his role in the tribe is in a really interesting flux stage

5&6: Pouncival and Tumblebrutus

They are a pair... do not separate

okay okay OKAY I know I often talk about my favorite characters in terms of how funny they are, and these guys??? Absolute clowns. The product is exactly what's written on the tin; they sure do pounce and tumble!!! Even a few weeks ago, they probably wouldn't have been so high on the list, but writing CFP and forcing myself to learn more about their characters as a result has skyrocketed the amount of love in my heart for them. If I had to choose, I'd probably say that I like Pouncival just a tiiiiny bit more since I think he's more memorable and I prefer his design, but the way they both look up to almost everybody else in the show is intoxicating to watch.

My favorite moments of these two are, of course, Pounce here (2:35 onward) and Tumble here (2:14:25 onward). I just think they're neat.

7: John Partridge The Rum Tum Tugger

(Okay, but, like, John Partridge is the ultimate here. My second favorite is probably Zach Bravo since his take on the character is so different, but there might never be a Tugger as suave as Partridge ever again.)

Going back to his antagonistic relationship with Alonzo, I think it's interesting that they share "vain" as a descriptor. I also think that Tugger's relationships are interesting in that a lot of them aren't necessarily dissimilar with one another (they're all quite teasing, whether romantic or platonic), but they are unique to him. The dynamism of his character is probably what makes me like him the most; I love how he code switches between his own number, Old Deuteronomy, and Mr. Mistoffelees.

Aside from all that, come on. The swagger is magnetic. (I'd write more but my fingers are starting to hurt)

8: Bombalurina

women <3

(I do have additional thoughts about her character! She's intelligent, generous, and flirtatious, and though she's always seeking romantic/sexual attention, those interactions are always secondary to her relationship with Demeter, which is something that I really like. Depending on the performer, she can easily come across as one of the strongest characters.

...but yeah. women <3)

9: Skimbleshanks

(swings microphone around) I am once again answering on the basis of "I just think they're funny"

Seriously though, at this point, there are so many characters that could make it onto this list. I think Skimble juuuuust made it here because EVERYBODY loves him, and that just makes me love him more. He and Mistoffelees definitely seem like the most popular choices for fanart from folks outside of the fandom, 2019 or otherwise.

Also, whenever I need an answer in Quiplash and can't think of anything, I put in Skimbleshanks, and without fail, somebody always votes for it, even if they have no idea who (or, in their mind, what) Skimbleshanks is.

There's not a single thing I dislike about this cat or his number; I couldn't possibly begin to list everything here. I just haven't thought particularly hard about him as a character yet.

10: Electra

I must admit that I've barely spent any time at all thinking about Electra. HOWEVER, her interactions with Munkustrap are adorable, and the single father alonzo fic has irreparably changed my brain chemistry, and for those reasons alone, she's earned her place here. I also think the unitard design is really unique and beautiful :D

Honorable Mention: Tantomile. She was my favorite when I watched Cats '98 as a young'in :).

[loonysama]

Fierce & Feisty Friday Anna Makes Kris Squirm

This week's Fierce and Feisty comes from Chapter 2: Rebel Girl from Sophisticated Grace (summary below). This is the scene where Anna waits on the Reindeer Herders tour bus while Elsa hooks up with HM. Anna meets Kris (the guitarist) for the first time, and they get off to a rocky start because Anna does not want to be there. It's from Anna's 1st person POV. TW: language, sexy talk (but not explicit)

*********************************************************************

I didn’t notice before, but that guy Kris is staring at my legs.  What the hell am I even wearing?  Right. Only the shortest skirt I own.  Perfect.  And my legs are crossed. And I’m turned to the side a little so even more leg shows.

Creep.

“Do you have any whiskey?”  I'll probably be here for a while anyway.

Finally, his eyes can move.  “Uh, like on the rocks?  With coke?”

“Depends.  What kind of whiskey do you have?”

“Tullamore Dew?”

“Neat.”

“You don’t want anything in it?”

Why the fuck would I say “neat” if I wanted something in it?

“No.” I opt for civility for Elsa’s sake.

“So, um, Elsa’s your sister?”

“Yup.”

“Do you live here?”

“Yup."

“What do you do?”

“I’m a violinist.”

“Shit, like in an orchestra?”

“Yup.”

“Ok, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a classical musician, you've got a nose ring, and you like Bikini Kill?”

Apparently he noticed my chest, too. Perve.

“I guess that makes me a ‘Rebel Girl’.”  I say sarcastically.  Is he going get that reference?  If he doesn’t… He smiles.  Whatever.  It's their biggest hit, so it's not really that impressive. It’s not a bad smile... I guess. “There’s no law against it, you know.  I’m sure you like bands that aren’t the Clash, the Ramones, and the Dead Kennedys, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Ok, I guess I’m pretty predictable.”

“Cause those are his three favorite bands, in the correct order.”

“Sven… don’t you have to take care of your wigs or something?” He tries to laugh it off like it didn’t happen, but his cheeks tell a different story. Of course, he also really likes People of the Sun, Joan Jett, and Frank Zappa.  Like I’m supposed to be impressed by his not so diverse pallet or something?  If he really wants to impress me, he would tell me the fucking truth.  He should have said Robert Johnson, Cliff Stone, Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, and Grand Pabbie.  That would have impressed me more.

Sven’s winking at me, and I’m trying really hard not to smile. Apparently I'm making Kris squirm and Sven's enjoying the show.  Maybe this night’s gonna be more fun than I thought.  I lean over and hold out my glass for more.  Then he pours one for himself.  He’s trying to hide it but I can tell from his face that it burns going down. I would have thought from how not full the bottle is that he does this all the time.  I bet he always mixes it with coke or something.  He’s probably never taken it neat before.

I wonder how far I can push him before he breaks...

“Do you have like a boyfriend/girlfriend type of situation?”

Smooth segue, Kris.

“I just got divorced.”  F**k.  It still hurts to say it out loud.  Divorced.  I’m glad to be done with that f**khole, but it still feels like failure.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  That blows.” He actually means it.

“You?”

“it's been almost 15 years. So it’s almost like it didn’t even happen.”

“Wow, Kris.  That’s harsh.”

His cheeks blossomed a healthy red. Well, this is fun.

"We were only married for a couple years, and then I got the job with HM and she didn’t want me to go on tour."

15 years? He’s totally fudging that number...  Elsa told me the band had been together for 20 years.  I guess he doesn’t want me to think he’s as old as he is.  He’s not that old.

"She didn’t trust me, you know?”

“Should she have trusted you?”

“Yes.  But that wasn’t the problem.”  Shit, he f**king means that. I hate that I just squeezed my legs when he said that.

“Oh.  She cheated on you?”

He didn’t answer.  Still squeezing... “What about you?”

“He was the conductor and he was f**king half the cello section.  Apparently I play the wrong instrument.”

My cup's empty so I lean back, arms on the backrest.

“Plus he was a sanctimonious d**khead that told me I was wasting my time playing Irish music in dive bars and that it was making my classical chops go bad.  Dude, I f**king practice 3 hours a day on my own.  Every day.  Even when we have rehearsals and concerts.  Pretty sure my classical chops are exactly where they f**king need to be.”

S**t. That was real. I do not need him to be my therapist.

He smiles, though, and fills my glass again.

“There were a lot of other things, too, though.”  This is embarrassing.  “Sorry.  It’s still fresh."

Kris is unnervingly quiet.  Now I'm about to squirm… “So you play Irish music, too?”

“Well, there’s a session I go to every week.  I just go and have a little fun.  It’s nice to play something a little different every once in a while.”

The liquor's finally starting to hit me.  For whatever reason, I move to his lap.  He's so cute and confused and his hands hug my hips automatically.

“Did you wink at me, from the stage?  At the end?”

“Uhhhhhhhh…”

“Does that usually work for you?  Like, do girls actually go for that?”

“Uhhhhhhh….”

I don’t really care.  He's f**king hot and I want him.

I straddle him and he pushes up my skirt.

F**k!  I haven’t shaved above the knee in like two weeks.

He doesn’t say anything, just touches more surface area with his ginormous hands, reaching farther beneath my skirt.  His hands are so big he can almost reach them around my whole thighs.  I guess he doesn’t care if I shaved. F**k it.  I roll onto him so it feels good and he dances his tongue on mine...

[I have to cut it off here because it starts to get dirty 🙈]

************************************************************************

Sophisticated Grace

Kristanna, Elsamaren

Rated M (language, sexual content, mental illness)

Elsa, who is recovering from debilitating OCD, drags her newly divorced sister Anna to see HM’s punk band the Reindeer Herders. Anna never bargained on HM’s guitarist Kris, though. This story follows the sisters’ relationships with the bandmates over several years, each time they have a show in Arendelle, and everything in between.

New chapters posted @ AO3 every Sunday!

************************************************************************

Tag some folks to post their own Fierce & Feisty Friday! Or just post if you feel like it. It can be an excerpt of posted work or a drabble or a preview or fan art - whatever brings out your innermost feistypants! Post this Friday or 20 Fridays from now, or somewhere in that zone! :)

@frenzy5150

@doodleydoo101

@tamorasky

@bad-at-names-and-faces

@faithambr

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Twelve)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Eleven ※※※※※ Chapter Thirteen

I approach my boyfriend seeing him completely tense. The long, callused fingers from the guitar strings tightening in distress. His eyes didn't know where to look, staring into the spotlight like they were monsters from his childhood.

The thick brown coat was a few sizes too big for him, but he's still beautiful all the same. On the eyelids, a black eye shadow ending with a pink tip gave it a charm. The lip balm seemed to bring out the color of his lips, making me restless to kiss him.

“I don't know if it was a good idea.” Luke, let out all the air as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“It was a great idea! You look awesome.” I bite my lip, controlling the urge to take him into a room and do various indecent things. “Just relax and enjoy. As in a play.” I advise him, trying to calm him down."

Ever since the invitation for him to be the face of this perfume had arrived, I was bursting with pride and anticipation to see him doing his photo shoot, following something completely different from the band.

"Don't you think it's too exaggerated?" he asks, unsure of the look. I hold his face in my hands, touching our foreheads. I allow myself to drown in his blue eyes.

“You look handsome.” I say slowly, so he can record my words well. “Now, let's get this quick, because seeing you like this is making me very excited and I don't know how long I can take it.” I sigh, uneasy. Hemmo gives a nice laugh. Glad to see him more relaxed.

Watch out when the photographer yells for them to start. I give my boyfriend a little kiss, ready to pull away, but Luke holds me in his arms still.

“I love you!” he whispers, like a secret.

“I love you!” I give him a little kiss on the tip of his nose. "Anything just scream, I'll be right there." I blink at him.

I take a few steps back, not taking my eyes off his. So as not to bump into anything and make a mess of his work, I turn around, running behind the spotlights and flashbulbs.

I watched the photo shoot totally proud and delighted. Little by little Luke was loosening up and having fun. I don't wipe the smile off my lips, so every time he looks at me, he smiles more.

Nearly three hours later, my excitement was already making me irritated that photo shoot wasn't over and I feel like I lost all control when in the last costume, where Luke rips the white blouse. I hold my breath, staring at the ceiling, wondering how I'm going to make it home and calculating which is closest.

~.~.~.~.~

We left the elevator hand in hand and in hurried steps, we weren't running, but whoever passed us realized we were in a hurry. I squeeze his hand seeing the door with the number 609.

"Thank God." I comment euphoric as Luke opens the door.

He walks in and pulls me to his chest. His hand tangles in the hairs on the back of my neck, enveloping us in a desperate kiss. Urgently, I open the buttons on his shirt, feeling his other hand find my ass, squeezing hard.

I force the fabric to slide down his arms, enjoying the texture of his warm skin. The tequila flavor still inhabits our mouths, which makes the kiss better, plus the soft touch of his lips pressed against mine.

I roll my eyes as his beard scrapes my neck, along with his hot mouth, giving me goose bumps.

“The door.” I say with difficulty, noticing it ajar.

Together, we staggered back a few steps, closing it. Without much patience and with a lot of desire, we ended up staying there. Hemmings presses me against the wood, pulling me into his lap. I scratch the back of his neck when I feel his erection against me, releasing the electricity that seems to rush through my body.

It was amazing how seeing him on stage, with those tight pants and silk shirts moving me. Honestly, he can wear anything, and at the end of the day I'll be falling for him. Not to mention the eyes full of glitter. He had me in the palm of his hands like that. So beautiful. So magnificent.

Luke always knew this look messed with my hormones and destroyed my self-control, and in the end it always ended up like that, having sex, because I couldn't help myself.

Of course, the drink has a big weight in this, but I'm not going to take our blame for this story, after all, we teased each other from the moment we stepped into that dressing room.

The desperation and excitement is such that we reach our first orgasm right there, against the door. No foreplay, no undressing completely, and not caring if anyone passing in the hallway heard anything.

It was something far above lust or desire. Despair to feel our skins against each other. Taste and touch. That feeling of feeling incredible, loved, wanted, as if the only chance to stay alive was there inside of us.

I wake up in a jump. My heart pounded, causing pain. My body seemed to boil, prompting me to kick the covers off quickly. The fresh memory of the dream causes shivers. The way I felt his touch, all those sensations and reactions my body gave.

I lie down on the bed again, wanting to calm down and not think too much about the dream, or what else seemed like, memories. I don't know how to handle it, these are the first sexual memories I have with him. My God, how am I going to look at Luke now?

I pick up my phone, which poin just over an hour earlier than I planned to wake up. Since I know I won't be able to get back to sleep anymore, so I start getting ready for today's meeting.

I decide to have breakfast first and once again review my past contract to get a sense of what will be discussed. Between one paragraph and another, I browse my social networks seeing what's going on.

Without being impressed anymore, I watch a little video or two that some fans make about Hemmo and me. Slightly, I melt at the way we look and smile at each other.

I go back to my room, and head for a shower. I hope that water takes those memories from earlier today down the drain, but the steam seems to open more fields in my brain.

I close my eyes, feeling various parts of my body tingle, as if he's there, touching me, holding me. My breath heaves and my belly tightens. What the fuck is going on?

Cheating on me yet again, my brain presents me with the two of us on the floor of that hotel room. In my kitchen. In the car. In some bathroom. Some of the countless times we'd lost ourselves in each other's arms.

The many times I ran my hands over his chest, drawing a new path, as I thought in that hospital hall. The times his mouth wandered over my body, his hands took me with such force and conviction.

The phone ringtone brings me back to reality. I turn off the alarm and hurry my shower. With Noah's guidance, I change into something comfortable and a bucket hat Calum gave me to hide my pink hair.

After a few hours, I find myself analyzing a huge photo of myself at the Hastings agency reception. With Noah, I follow a huge hallway to a conference room, where Mr. Hastings and a lawyer would be waiting for us. The twin next to me has a hard face, which is weird since Noah is always so excited and smiling.

“Marnie, dear! Long time no see! How have you been? Did you receive my basket?” Mr. Hastings question me without waiting for me to walk right into the room.

“Hi! I'm great and yes, I loved the basket, it was very kind.” I squeeze his hand, not knowing quite what to do.

“Hello son!” it's not exactly a warm welcome, but I want to believe it's just because we're in a work environment, dealing with serious matters.

“Hi Dad. Can we start?” my friend guides me to a chair.

During the meeting, Mr. Hastings clarified some news of the new contract. Things like: salary increase, partnership with new brands and the whole process of publicizing the names that already worked with us.

“Closing here, you will go to the closet to take new measurements. These numbers will be sent to the brands that hired you and they will send you clothes for you to use on a daily basis. For example: if you go out with Leah for coffee, you must wear a Louis Vuitton coat, so the photos you take will publicize the coat and well, nowadays young people find everything and want everything you wear. You will get a scale of which brands to use, so it's easier for you.” Mr. Hastings explains by summarizing a contract sheet.

As for photo shoots, until my arm gets better and I can get rid of the cast, I'll be limited to rehearsals on jewelry, makeup, glasses and shoes. On my hair, if the contracting brand determines, I will have to wear a wig.

I keep mentally reading every line of that contract, wondering if I could handle it all. Well, you’ve handle it for the past two years, it shouldn't be that hard.

As determined, after the meeting, Noah walks me to the closet. A huge space where had several clothes and accessories, as in The Devil Wears Prada. My measurements are taken and I get annoyed when the guy who's putting the measuring tape around my waist grumbles that I've put on weight.

The bad thing about being a model is it, this constant imposition of a perfect body. Since the accident, I don't remember seeing anyone on Leah's foot for her to lose weight or keep her body. I always watched her nervous appetite, not caring if it would add to her number on the scale.

Okay that Leah's biotype was skinny and maybe that made things easier for her. But since I understand myself by people, I've always been short and broad hiped and never cared. And even if I erased a few years, I don't think I've changed much.

From the reflection in the mirror, Noah sinalized for me not to care what the guy says, but I think it's kind of difficult. It's not just him talking about my body, it seems like everyone on the internet has an opinion about my weight, especially some Luke fans.

Blocking in my mind, the offensive words that I always end up reading through social media. However, I keep watching my body in the mirror, wondering if it wouldn't be better to lose some weight.

Soon after having my measurements taken, Noah is called to a meeting with his father and a french businessman, leaving me alone. As I wait for the car to arrive, I consider what I can do on my last day off. Everyone is working and I don't want to disturb anyone.

Finally, I decide to go to my mom's office and have lunch with her. I go down at the door of a huge, mirrored building. At the front desk, I ask about her office, getting a badge before I go upstairs.

The frosted glass door holds a huge space, which occupies one/quarter of the eighth floor. The various prints, fabrics, furniture and color palettes create a fun atmosphere, contrasting with the white walls of the place.

"Marnie! Hey!” a woman with curly hair, tied up in a purple turban, approaches with a huge smile.

“Hi.” I reply politely, but having no idea who she is.

“Oh, sorry.” she seems to notice. “I'm Dominique, your mother's partner.” I open a bigger smile, now informed. "Have you come to see her?" she guides me in the office inside.

“Oh yes, I came to have lunch with her.” Dominique smiles broadly and sympathetically.

"She's going to love the surprise. She's just finishing up with a customer. Want something while you wait?”

“Oh no, thanks!”

Dominique walks away, making it clear that anything was just asking, that I was home. I'm amazed at how things evolved for my mom, before she just had a small room away from the center and now she had all this space and staff.

I watch several people go from one place to another, making projects, budgeting, designing furniture and spaces. My mother's laugh brings me back just in time to see her in her office doorway, rosy cheeks, awkwardly in Mr. Marshall's company.

I open a smile finding the scene adorable. I look for Dominique, hoping she hasn't shut up in her office yet, as she might know something about the two of them. I find the brunette, leaning against the reception desk smiling like me.

"Marnie?" I turn quickly, finding Mr. Marshall next to me. “How have you been?” I hug him while my mother stands wide-eyed in the door.

He hadn't changed much. The face that was once smooth now had a very charming gray beard. The hair was still dark.

“I'm great, thanks. It's great to see you.” I keep my smile, finding it all wonderful, unlike my mother.

“I'm sorry about the accident. I would have send you something, but I didn't have your address and it was a little difficult to reach your mother.” he admits sympathetically. Have I told how much I like him?

“No problems. I’m grateful for your consideration and about you have found my mother again. Isn’t, mom?” her gaze at me turns withering. I'm screwed.

“Well, I'm also very happy to have found Debra again.”

I hold the 'awn' who insists on wanting to leave, when he smiles delightedly at my mother. Man, he's so into her.

“Hm, sorry to be rude, but taking advantage of our meeting, I want to invite you to a new restaurant location opening. It will be this Wednesday.”

“Oh, I'm honored. It will be a pleasure. Right, mom?” I watch my mother want to sink into the ground and disappear, and I can't help think how funny is it. "Do you mind if I invite my friends?"

“No! Of course not! Feel free.” he opens a gentle smile. His gaze flies to my mother and there they stare at each other for a few seconds. “Well, I have to go. Debra, thank you so much for the project, it's beautiful. Marnie, it was a pleasure to see you. Until Wednesday.” he hugs me again. With my mother, I notice them without knowing how to say goodbye.

I wait for Mr. Marshall to leave the office to let out the sigh caught in my throat, which my mother doesn't like.

“Stop this!” she slaps me on my back. I walk into her room laughing at the whole past situation.

“My God, you guys are so in love. Why don't you just assume it?” I ask, sitting in the chair across from her desk.

"Because there isn’t nothing to assume. It's a professional relationship.” she replies angrily, setting the table.

“Mom?” I call her, until she looks at me. I raise an eyebrow, emphasizing that I don't believe her.

Her shoulders slump, letting go of the tension. I watch her hide her face in hands after a sigh. Her eyes catch mine and a nasal laugh breaks the silence, then I see her there, shy and unsure, a small smile, which soon opens, reflecting all over her face.

"I don’t have age for this anymore. I mean…” she takes a bunch of flowers from behind the table. “Look at this.”

"Awn." I cover my face, not taking it. “Of course you have agr for this. If my father can find someone and be happy, then of course you can too. Mom, you're young and beautiful, and there's an amazing guy who's into you. He's clearly in love and apparently he's been doing everything he can to demonstrate, you should give him and… you a chance.” I finish in a whisper, touching myself that those words were good for me too.

I replay in my mind everything Luke has been doing, trying to win me back, and I'm glad that, somehow, I giving both of us a chance, even if it's a non date. I let out a laugh at the memory of the invitation, before letting my mind drift back to this morning's memories.

“I think you're right. Maybe on Wednesday, I can talk to him.” her red cheeks make me smile more.

“It's a great idea. How about we discuss this over lunch?” I suggest, listening to my belly come alive.

“Great idea.” she picks up the phone, dialing something.

Since I had nothing to do, I stay until early afternoon with my mother, gossiping about her crush on Mr. Marshall, about my relationship with Luke, about the meeting and our Wednesday night outfit.

Dominique joins us in a few moments, having fun with my passionate and nervous mom.

Around 3pm, Ashton calls, inviting me out for coffee, just him and me, like old times.

“Why can't I go? Do you not love me anymore?” I cover my mouth, stopping the laughter from coming out, when I hear Calum yell..

“Yeah! I can't take you anymore. How am I going to talk bad about you if you're there?” Ash replies.

"You are talking here. What does it matter to talk there? At least that way you buy me coffee.” Calum rebuts. While the couple argue, I listen to the fight, paying attention to the details of the ceiling.

"Are you still arguing? What the fuck is just coffee? Who is so important for all this? The pope?” I hear Luke arrive and realize he doesn't know I'm the guest.

“It's actually Marnie and from my experiences she's very important to some of the people here.” I don't need to see Ash's face to know he's making fun of Luke.

"Can I go?" I bite my lip, holding back the laugh.

“If you let him go and I don't, I'll never look you in the face again.” Calum gives the ultimatum.

“I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm still here and would like the DTR resolved if possible.” I say out loud, hoping it works.

“Sorry, Marnie. Five seconds.” Irwin asks. I think about making a joke with the band's name, but it's better to leave it alone.

"Is she listening?" Luke speaks in amazement. “Why do you…” then everything becomes too muffled and I can't hear.

“Enough! Nobody goes but me. I want to go out with my friend and I will. Marnie was right, I shouldn't have introduced you.” I hear Ash mumble, causing me to laugh. “Give me your address, I'll be there in a few minutes.”

We ended the call and I return to questioning my friendships. Why God? Why?

Sitting at a small table on the sidewalk, Ash and I discuss which coffee to drink. It wasn't very difficult to know that he loves coffee and understands a lot about the subject, which gives me complete confidence in letting him choose which one I should try.

When the cup reaches the table, I taste the drink under his hopeful, curious gaze. I open a smile, approving of my best friend's choice. I hi-five him, celebrating.

"It was the coffee you had the first time we went out together." he comments with a cute smile.

“Awn, Ash!” I can't stand the way they always remember everything. "So, ready to officially become older tomorrow?" I crack a smile, excited about our dinner tomorrow.

“No! I found a white hair this morning.” he grumbles, eliciting a laugh from me.

“I don’t see anything.” I comment, trying to cheer him up.

"I wasn’t talking about my top hair." he comments, drinking his coffee next.

"Ashton!" I reprimand him, covering my eyes, traumatized. “I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about it.”

I hear his laugh, letting me laugh too. The problem with having intimacy is exactly that, your friends no longer filter out what to say to you.

“So why didn't you bring Cool Guy Cal?” I change the subject.

“Because I spend the whole day with them, I can't stand to look at those disgusting faces anymore.” I laugh, imagining what a mess that studio must be. "And how am I going to speak ill of him with him here?" I complete this last part with him, laughing. “Exactly.”

“And you have something bad to say?” Ash shakes his head.

“No! Cal is an amazing guy.” Boys… “But I wanted to spend time with my best friend. After the accident it was difficult to have time alone. How are you?” I shrug.

"Surviving. It's only been a month and it seems like, I don't know, six. There's still so much I'm discovering.” I look at my coffee thoughtfully as I twirl the spoon in it.

"Finding out what? Your feelings for Luke?” he mocks. I scold him softly, laughing. This is a sensitive subject. "So how was the kiss?" I spit half the hot drink back into the cup.

I look at my friend in full alert. I can't believe Luke told him. We had agreed to wait a while. Irwin kept his smile curious, waiting for my answer.

“I’m sorry…?” he raised his eyebrows and then it hit me. He played and I delivered. "Ashton!" I kick your shin.

“Ouch! You who kiss and I who get beaten?” he rubs his shin, confused.

“How did you find out?” My God, does everyone know already? "Have you told anyone?"

“No! I didn't say anything and I didn't even try it with Luke. But how do you think I wouldn't notice? I've known him for years. He comes down Sunday morning, all smiling, all silly, more than usual. Super in a good mood after a party like that. Hemmings never wakes up in a good mood.”

I take a sip of my coffee, wanting to hide my smile.

“And about you?! You're my best friend! It's easy to see what's going on. Even more after what I already followed the first time. So?” the australian asks curiously, causing me to laugh.

"It was just a kiss. I don't know, it was automatic, and I ended up giving him a little kiss, and he took advantage of the break and kissed me. And I left.” my cheeks heat up as I hold in the sassy smile.

“And what does that mean?” he drops into his chair. I shrug.

“I do not know. I like Luke's company. I really like! He makes me feel safe and so unique. He's fun and so silly.”

"That he is!" Ash comments in a whisper, making me laugh.

“And I like it all, but…” the words don't come out anymore.

“You are afraid.” he completes.

"What if he gets to know me better and he doesn't like this Marnie?" I dry swallow. Ashton grimaces thoughtfully, considering my question.

“Nah!” he shakes his head, dismissing the possibility. “Luke loves you, Marnie. And you know this.” He points a finger at me. I look down, embarrassed. “The only thing left is for you to understand and accept how you feel about him. Of course, in your time, no pressure.” he adds quickly.

My heart speeds up with the direction of the conversation. I organize in my mind all the events that happened between Luke and me. All your discreet and indiscreet advances. All his looks and smiles at me, his shy, goofy way.

On the other side, I put everything that we lived before the accident. Everything I saw and remembered. I stare at Ashton, slumped in his chair, waiting for my answer. I take a deep breath, nodding my head positively.

“I think I already know how I feel about him.”

[artificialqueens]

How Far I'll Go - Part 2 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: We have reworked Chapter One to reflect the events of the S11 reunion, so you may want to give it a reread. Can we FIX IT? Yes we can. 

(TW: REUNION SPOILERS)

Nina is in Columbus on the day he gets the call.

It’s his last show before Drag Con. He’s already going through dog-withdrawal. His boys will be fine of course but he fucking hates leaving them; as soon as he starts packing a suitcase they know something’s up and it breaks his heart.

Anyway. He’s glad to spend his last night at home in one of his favourite places in the world, surrounded by the people he loves. It’s only been a few days since the finale and reunion, and Nina’s feeling a bit raw about everything. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t looked at Monet’s number in his phone several dozen times, contemplated what he could say to make his behaviour the morning after acceptable. The only things that come to his mind are lies (family emergency! food poisoning! traumatic brain injury after falling in the shower!) and Nina doesn’t do that. Much.

So.

It’s either own up and confess how he was feeling, or - pretend that number in his phone doesn’t exist. Maybe stare at it from time to time, sighing (before reminding himself that it was just one night and didn’t mean anything anyway). And then sigh some more and distract himself with peanut butter straight from the jar. You know - whatever results in the least amount of dignity possible.

Anyway.

The reunion is going to air tomorrow night, but Nina’s going to be on a plane as it happens. That’s fine, he knows how it all went down, and he doesn’t really need to see Brooke and Vanjie’s shy little love story unfold (and ultimately self-destruct) once again. He saw it all already, and firsthand. Picked up the pieces of Brooke’s shattered heart and whip-stitched them back together as best he could while the other chain-smoked and wallowed in denial and blame.

Nina’s sitting in the dressing room, paint mostly on but not in his dress (he’s doing “Let It Go” from Frozen with a full-on ice queen reveal because it’s been that kind of a month. Maybe he’s coming for Brooke’s gig, but maybe not.), and scrolling through Instagram when an unfamiliar number flashes white on the screen.

He’s used to this. The charity work means somehow a lot of people get his number - it’s not ideal, but it makes the work he’s doing worth it so he deals.  He’ll deal.

He slides his thumb across the screen, plasters on his best smile (it’s easier to be nice to people when you’re smiling), greets them with a cheery, “Hello!”

“Nina, this is Maya with World of Wonder. How are you this evening?”

His heart leaps to his throat. What could they want with him now? There are still two episodes of the show left to air, but publicity is almost all died down. And calling him instead of his manager?

“Good. Great!” he chokes out. “I’m… How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. I’m calling because I’d like to formally invite you to participate in season five of RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars.”

The world? Stops. His heart? Pounds. His brain? Freezes.

All Stars . Another chance. Redemption.

“Yes!” he says immediately, too quickly, too enthusiastically, as soon as he can make his mouth work again. “Yes! When?”

On the other end of the line, Maya laughs, high and clear.

“Yay, that was an easy sell. We’re excited to have you back! We’ll be filming in late July, and you’ll receive further instructions by email. But please do remember that the terms of your verbal contract start now, so no one other than your emergency contact will be allowed to know you are participating. Reach out if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you!”

“Looking forward to seeing you again, Nina. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

And with a click, she’s gone. But Nina’s entire world has shifted on its axis. He just stands there in front of the mirror, unable to move, unable to think.

All Stars.

When they’d first asked him about it, way back in January when the Season 11 girls had first started doing promos, he’d given them a tentative yes.  He knew how big the platform was and wanted to make the most of it. But he’d also… not wanted to count his chickens, or something. You never know how America (or the world) will react to you (just ask Silky).  Maybe it’s vain, but Nina had wanted to see if they liked him, really liked him - like he’d hoped they would.

He couldn’t have imagined AOC going live to protest his elimination. Or Leslie Jones being so angry (he really does hope someone sent her a box of cookies) or Rihanna (Rihanna!) coming to his defense after that controversial lip-sync. Then his Miss Congeniality win. It was almost too much all at once.

He’d also figured they meant an All Stars far, far away. Like. Season eight. Or nine. Maybe even ten (if he’s still able to stomp around in heels without a walker at that point). Right after his own season? A pipe dream.

But it’s here, and it’s happening, and he’d be foolish not to take the opportunity that was presented to him. It’s the ultimate redemption story, and look at how beloved the All Stars winners are.

He ticks through them in his head: Chad, Alaska, Trixie, Trinity, Monet…

There, he falters. He usually just tries not to think about Monet, glowing golden and dripping in sequins and body silky smooth against his own. Best not to dwell when there isn’t any peanut butter in sight.

But who needs peanut butter when you’re an All Star?

He giggles, straight up lets a gleeful laugh reverberate through his chest and up through his nose and spread like honey, coating every surface in the small dressing room. Just once though, before he falls silent again. Studies his reflection in the mirror.

He might be in shock.

“Nina, you okay?” The evening’s MC (Luz, lovely person, really involved in the trans youth movement) is looking at him curiously from the doorway of the dressing room.

Nina blinks.  The phone is still in his hand. He knew this was a possibility, of course.  Just - you don’t know until you know - you know? Part of the reason he’s gotten this far (he always tells himself) is that he never assumes anything is a certainty.  He always counts on having to fight his way those last few feet to the finish line.

“Nina?”

“I’m in All Stars,” Nina says.

“What?” Luz squeaks, and Nina stumbles forward, grabbing her arm.

“I’m in All Stars.”

The other queens in the greenroom turn their heads in unison at the statement.

“I’m in All Stars,” Nina says again.

The queens stalk over to him with their hands on their hips, heels clicking in synchronized stomps on the linoleum floor.

And then Nina can hear music. (When did he put on his gown?) A brass band, a string section.  And the queens start singing:

“Nina West you’re going places

Always knew you’d make it far

Nina West you got that phone call

You are our All Star!”

“I am!” Nina gasps as he’s lifted up by the queens and carried out into the middle of the club. The dance floor is crowded but somehow the patrons are making a circle around him, moving in perfect rhythm.

“Nina West, sent home too early

Still e-lev-en-gendary.

Time to show the world you’re more than

Miss Congeniality!”

A group of drag kings by the pool table start spinning their cues over their heads like batons (so much talent in this community!)

“Brought camp to the masses, ” they sing in baritone.

Brought pride to our town,

We can’t wait to see you

Wearing that All Stars crown!”

“Thank you!” Nina is set down on the stage. Glitter starts falling from the ceiling, catching in his wig and eyelashes.

“Love you all,” he sings alone to the enraptured crowd, “you are my family,

I’ll make you proud and do my best.

We can change the world together

Go big, be kind, go West!”

“Go West!” the crowd sings back.

“Go Wessssssst!” Nina hits a perfect falsetto high note, throwing his arms open -

“Nina.”

Nina waves at the cheering crowd -

“Nina!”

Glitter keeps falling like snowflakes, ice cold and shimmering -

“Nina.  You okay?” Luz, the evening’s MC, is staring at him in the doorway of the greenroom.

Nina looks at her. There is no glitter in his eyelashes. There is no music playing in the background. Over his shoulder, a couple of bored local queens are penciling on their eyebrows. He’s wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts and not the shimmering blue Elsa gown.

He’s still holding his cellphone in his hand.

“Um,” Nina says. “Yep.”

*****

Nina talks to Brooke a lot.

It makes sense; they’ve been friends for a long time, they really bonded during their season, Nina helped Brooke through his breakup with Vanjie (although Brooke insisted at the time he was fine. Still does, actually. Nina has his own theories about that, but he isn’t pushing).

So yeah. They chat. A lot.

And all Nina wants to do is tell Brooke about his All Stars call, but he can’t because of the damn NDA.

It’s frustrating.

They meet for breakfast early on the first day of Drag Con, Brooke in his customary black and white, Nina in a navy blue button up spotted with pink flamingos (it felt right).

They’ve no sooner settled into the booth and given their orders than Nina’s knee starts bouncing. Nerves. Anxiety. (Yes - both.)

“What’s with you?” Brooke asks while he sips his coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up.”

Nina shrugs. “Nervous about the Con, I guess.”

“And?” Brooke’s eyes narrow.

“ And?”

“And what else?” He stirs another packet of sugar into the cup. “I know you. It’s not like you to be nervous about a networking opportunity.”

Nina scoffs. “Drag Con is way more than just a networking opportunity and I -”

“You’re a bad fucking liar. Takes one to know one.” Brooke leans his elbows on the table, cool as a Canadian autumn, presses his fingertips together, stares Nina down. “What’s going on?”

Nina sighs. “I wish I could tell you, trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that I literally can’t.” He widens his eyes, hoping maybe Brooke will get the point.

Apparently it works, because after a few moments, recognition blooms across Brooke’s face and he laughs. “Really? Like. Officially really?”

Nina nods. This is okay, right? He’s not technically breaking the contract. It’s not like he told Brooke anything verbally.

“Nina! That’s - oh my god!” Then Brooke is busily tapping away at his phone and a sense of dread overcomes Nina.

“You can’t tell anybody - “

Brooke waves him off. “I’m just telling Vanjie.”

Okay, that’s - something to come back to certainly, but - more pressing matters first. “Brooke, seriously. You can’t tell anybody. I’m not supposed to tell anybody.”

“You didn’t.” Brooke shrugs. Good to know at least they share the same sentiment about verbal contracts. That might come in handy during litigation. “I figure the House of West has a lot of prove, and you’ve never backed down from a challenge. So I know you’ll bring it and… I just kind of wanted to give the competition a heads up.” He bites his lip and waits for Nina to process.

And - look, it takes him a minute. Because it’s really a lot of information at one time.

Item 1: Brooke and Vanjie are still close. He knew that. Everybody with Twitter and Instagram knew. (Hell, for a little while, even Nina wasn’t 100% sure they weren’t still together.) Close enough for Vanessa to tell Brooke about an All Stars call when legally sworn to utmost secrecy?

Yeah, actually, that tracks. Vanjie’s shit at keeping secrets, and he’s still indescribably in love with Brooke, only an idiot (like Brooke) wouldn’t see that. So. Do the math.

Item 2: Vanjie is back back back on Drag Race. For the third season in a row. And the bitch can turn it. Nina doubts very much there will be 47 swimsuits, pasties, panties, and bras this time around. He’s a little intimidated, if he’s being quite honest.

Okay, so it’s really only two points of information, but it’s two very large points that have a big, pointy impact on his life. Which leads to:

Item 1: Nina had been relieved and happy when Brooke and Vanessa were able to start talking again after the breakup. They’d been using him as a middle man - a mediator, he preferred (far less tacky) - and although he loved them both, it was exhausting. And he could only say, “I think you should just talk to him and not me,” so many times before he got frustrated. But he had persevered and eventually, Brooke had texted Vanjie and they’d started to repair their friendship.

Go figure that. Nina’s inner saboteur is back, has been back since the night of the finale taping, the night he spent with Monet. He hates it. Wishes he could cut into himself and carve it out like a cancer. Adults talking through their issues and handling shit. Who knew it was possible?

So he should have texted Monet. Fine - it’s fine. Water under the… thing.

Item 2: Who else is on All Stars? If Nina’s being really honest, he’s been on cloud nine about the whole thing, and hasn’t given much thought to who else could be competing. He has his dream cast, of course, and a long list of Ru girls he’d love to work with. But the thought of competing against the Very Best of the Very Best is… Well, he’s shook. To say the least.

His face must convey it because Brooke reaches across the table and takes his hand. “Hey. You deserve this, Nina.”

He nods, tears hot in his eyes, and wills himself not to cry. “I bet you told Vanjie the same thing,” he says, voice catching a bit in his throat.

“I did.” Brooke laughs, unashamed of his affection, even when it’s blinding. “I also told him he was crazy for doing three seasons in a row but…” He holds out his hands, shrugs, as if to say it isn’t his responsibility anymore. Nina knows he’s probably right, but deep down he suspects that Brooke and Vanjie are far more entangled than they like to think, and Brooke’s opinion means more to Vanessa than either one of them will care to admit.

Relationships are messy.

Anyway.

“Do you think I should have said no?” Nina asks,  afraid for the answer. “Taken a break? Focused on the charity? Ridden the first-year wave a little longer?”

“Hell no!” Brooke responds immediately. “Take the opportunity. People fucking adore you, Nina. Plus, look at Monet! She won right after her season so. It can be done.”

Nina considers, briefly, telling Brooke about the whole tangled Monet thing. Decides, instead, to deflect. “So, um. That guy you took back to your room after the finale… the beardo… character.  How is… that going?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow at him. “This is really what you want to talk about right now?”

“It’s just good to see you moving on.” (Is it though? Is it really?)

Brooke rolls his eyes and smiles into his coffee. “What about you? Any romance on the horizon for Nina West?”

“No.” Nina snorts. “It’s been…” Three days, eight hours, and - he glances at his watch - one minute. Approximately. Not that he’s counting. “A while. Let’s just say a while.”

Brooke’s mouth quirks to the side and his left eye twitches the tiniest bit. “Well.” He places his mug on the table and smiles at Nina. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities on tour. We’ll get you on Tinder and Grindr! Trade in every city, Nina.”

Actually, Nina usually prefers to go back to his room and shower for about 45 minutes before collapsing into bed and sleeping until his alarm goes off the next morning. Finding someone to sleep with and then actually fucking them? That seems exhausting. Better to let Brooke take that one on himself (seems like that’s his preferred coping strategy).

And Nina is in no place to judge coping strategies, so despite any - concerns he might feel (the lines beneath Brooke’s eyes, the nicotine stains on his hands, that thing he does with his face that makes Nina want to hug him) he keeps his mouth shut.

He’s getting awfully good at the whole not-speaking-up thing. It’s not his best look. Not at all.

*****

On the air-conditioned floors of Drag Con, Nina gets to shake hands and hug people from all across the country, children to teenagers to tiny old grannies with walkers. It’s a completely surreal and humbling experience; he can’t get over the way it feels to have people know his name, people thank him for doing something that he loves.

And he gets to meet up again with so many of the queens he’s crazy about, queens he never thought would give a shit about him. It’s so nice seeing Adore again, she’s exactly the kind of person he wishes he had the guts to be when he was her age. And Peppermint is everything and Miss Fame is like an actual goddess in person as well as on television and then there’s James St. James -  it’s a lot.

It almost feels like a trip to Disneyland but gayer (a bit) and with more neuroses.

There’s a weird moment with Miz Cracker, which is unexpected –Nina’s been a stan since Season 10, watches her recaps religiously.  He didn’t think they were going to be best friends or anything (all right, maybe he thought they’d get there eventually) but when he introduces himself she basically stares right through him, says nothing, and starts to walk away. Luckily Vanjie is with her, so Nina embraces him to dissipate the awkward tension. He and Vanjie have a mini-meltdown over how in love they are with each other, and after Cracker is well out of earshot, Vanjie gives Nina a look.

“She feeling some type of way about you, hey? You steal her man or something?”

“Absolutely not.” Nina’s a bit hurt – he was legitimately excited about meeting Cracker – but she’s entitled to an off day. Or to just plain not like him (though who doesn’t like him? He’s bloody endearing, like a Labrador puppy).

Anyway, not to overdo the animal comparisons, but water off a duck’s back.

He doesn’t see Monet at the Con. Which is - probably for the best. Nina doesn’t avoid him but - he doesn’t go looking for him either. And really, he barely gets a moment to sneak away from his booth, so it isn’t like he’s a total garbage person. He doesn’t throw himself to the ground or anything at the sight of Monet coming toward him, his life hasn’t yet reached the level of pure farce.

It’s barely been a week anyway; Nina’s still figuring out how to appropriately apologize (appropriately apologize without coming across like a pathetic sad-sack who has maybe thought about that night a bit more than could be considered ‘casual’).

So. Space. Time. Possibly a time machine. All or any of them will work.

The Con ends on a high note and Nina basically goes on tour immediately after, doing a lot of PR for the season and his albums. In New York he finally meets Leslie Jones and loses his mind. He kind of floats through the next two months, lets himself be buoyed up by the love and support of his community, lets it erase the insecurities that wound like thorns around his heart after Season 11.

He travels, he makes people laugh. It’s what he’s good at. It’s how he’s survived.

When he’s not working, he’s practicing his sewing and designing and bribing his witchy seamstress friends into helping him put some new looks together. Somehow the days tick by too quickly. Spring ends, and summer breaks scalding over Ohio. Nina’s packing up his bags and hugging people goodbye and crying ( not really, but just don’t look at him for a minute) over his dogs.

And getting on a plane to L.A.

Being on set is familiar but also kind of panic inducing. Nina didn’t realize how differently he carried himself when he was getting ready to be filmed until his spine straightened helplessly and he suddenly realized he had arms. His body remembers how intense this experience was (is) even if his brain doesn’t.

He’s dressed in a (non-copyright infringing) version of Woody from Toy Story, sequined and cinched and proportionized, just like Michelle would want. Maya the P.A. hugs him, introduces him to the sound guy who hooks up his microphone, taping it just under Nina’s neckline (“At least buy me dinner first!” Nina says with a shrill, nervous laugh, and the sound guy doesn’t even flinch, clearly having heard it before. Nina may actually have said the same thing last season. It - might also have been the same sound guy).

“You ready?”

Nina is ready. He adjusts her cowboy hat, shifts her fringed leather belt and the sequined holsters for her bubble guns.

Then the lights are on him, and the cameras are rolling, and Nina pulls down the shutters on his insecurity (make ‘em laugh, it’s what he does).

“Hey y’all. I’m here to show you how the West was Won.”

Nina West struts into the werkroom, bubble guns at the ready, and the rest is herstory.

[xhannahbananax03]

The Boyfriend Diaries - Act I - Chapter 1

Warnings: Implications of Sexual content, Extreme gore, violence. If you are easily trigged by any of these things, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Words: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

She was sat across from a cute boy in a small diner, wearing a big smile on her face. "So Dorothy, what's your favorite subject right now?" The boy asked, his name was Ben.

"Oh, I prefer biology and chem. lab." She smiled, of course it was her favorite subject. She got to learn about the chemicals she would steal when the teacher wasn't looking. Just little things like some chloroform here, some bleach there, the occasional disinfectant.

"I actually prefer literature..." Ben said a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom." She spoke up staring at him intently, "Edgar Allen Poe." She finished softly.

"Oh..." He chuckled awkwardly, before casting his eyes up to the approaching waitress. She was dressed in a bright and annoying pink and blue outfit, the same one all the other female staff was wearing.

"What can I get for ya!" She said in a loud and cheery voice. Before "Dorothy" had a chance to speak up and tell the older woman to stop being so obnoxious, Ben told her his order.

"Can I get the chicken salad and the green shake?" He asked politely, smiling up at the woman who's name tag read, "Bethany".

Ugh.... Dorothy thought to herself, he's a healthy eater... "I'll just get some fries and a Sprite" she told Bethany with an annoyed smile.

The woman's face fell slightly before she huffed and frowned, "sure, it'll be out in 15." She said with a hint of anger in her voice before quickly turning around and walking off.

About an hour later Dorothy and Ben walked out of the diner hand in hand, even though she was annoyed and his hands were oddly clammy, she stuck with it. She had to. Only a little big longer. She kept telling herself.

"So where do you wanna go now?" Ben asked her, a smile on his face unaware of his impending doom.

She squeezed his hand tighter and took a deep breath before slapping a smile on her face. "It's a surprise, just follow me." She said walking down the sidewalk and towards the small dirt road back in the woods that led to an old shut down factory. The same place she'd been staying for almost a month.

"Ok if you say so." He laughed and walked beside her, still holding her hand. Now's your chance. She told herself.

After a bit of walking, the pair finally made it to the beginning of the path, where he stopped walking and just stood. She turned around a panic beginning to bubble inside her, "What's wrong?" She asked innocently, trying to keep her cool.

He chuckled lowly, looking down at the ground as one of his brown hiking boots kicked around a rock. "I know what your doing..." He said softly, not yet looking at her.

"What do you mean? Do you know this place?" Crap she thought, might have to do it right here... That's probably the last thing she wanted, but if it had to happen, it had to happen.

"Don't play coy with me sweetheart..." He smirked up at her before taking a step forward and wrapping an arm around her waist, "you're taking me to the old Mill to shack up, aren't you?" He asked a smile in his voice. But not a sweet, gentle smile, more like a predator lurking just beyond the surface, and it made her heart pound beneath her chest.

She giggled softly, trying to cover up her fear of getting caught and her fear of something much more dark happening. "You caught me..." She said flirtatiously looking up at him.

He leaned down to kiss her lips but she leaned back in response, "let's get there first, then you can kiss me." She giggled pushing away from him and turning back down the path.

She frowned to herself and let out a shaky breath. She heard the pounding of feet behind her and she wanted to run forward in return, but instead she put a fake smile on her face as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and pull her closer to the warm body of her date, Ben.

Eventually they made it to the run down Mill, inside she had everything set up, in one room a dusty old couch and in another closed off room, a clear tarp on the floor, chains hanging from the ceiling, and a table with things like cleaning supplies, gloves and, knifes. She wasn't too much into torture, but she would have to hack up the body and bury it in several locations. So even if the cops did go looking, they'd never find all of it.

Walking into the old and rusty front door, she led him towards the couch and he sat down, almost immediately reaching out for her, "you wait here while I go get ready ok?" She winked at him really trying to sell it.

He leaned back and spread his legs, "I'll be here." He said with a smirk, making her cringe, but it was dark so hopefully he didn't notice.

She smiled down at him and turned around walking to the closed door. Behind it, a crime waiting happen. She didn't just do the things she did for no reason, she always had a reason. She liked to think of it as justice.

Walking into the room, she closed the door and let out a heavy sigh before getting to work. First she stripped down into her underwear and put on a self-made hazmat suit of sorts. She put on a pair of black rubber gloves and a pair of socks.

She walked to the table to double check she had everything she needed when a loud bang came from the door, she jumped back and ran towards it, "just a minute!" She shouted, looking around the room one last time before standing behind the door and turning off the light.

"Come in!" She shouted loudly. The door slowly creaked open and in stepped Ben, his hand immediately flying out in search for a light switch, "don't!" She squeaked out not ready for everything to be seen. That would just make this that much harder.

His hand fell back to his side and he completely stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Dorothy?" He said quietly in a creepy manner. She shuddered but stayed still and quiet, she needed him just a few more steps into the room before she could jump him. "Where are ya?" He asked stepping further into the room.

This was her shot, probably her only shot and she had to take it, she unfolded the chloroform covered rag in her hand and moved quickly towards the light switch before flicking it on, "what the-" were the only two words he was able to get out before she was on him.

She jumped into his back and immediately shoved the rag over his mouth and nose, he screamed into it and reached his hands back grabbing for her hair only to pull off the dark black wig and hold it in his hands.

He struggled for a little while longer, before inevitably passing out, falling onto the old cracked pavement face first. She got off of him and stretched her back, "put up quite the fight there Benny..." She mumbled to his limp form.

She dragged his heavy body over to the chains and sat him in the chair below them, she huffed out a breath before tugging his arms above his head and wrapping and locking the chains tightly around his wrists.

In the corner of the room was a big metal barrel full of wood and old newspapers covered in gasoline, she lit a match and threw it in before throwing the wig, their clothes, and the rag into the flames. She quickly attached a hose to the old sink in the room and turned on the water before spraying Ben down.

After a few minutes he came to, he still was out of it, but he was awake and ready to be charged for his crimes, "Benjamin Dowle..." She said pacing in front of him with a folder in her hands, "I'm Riley... Lovely to meet you." She said not looking up at him.

"How do you know my real name?" He shivered, "I changed my last name after..." He trailed off a dark expression taking over his face as he stared down at the ground.

"After what Ben?" Riley asked staring up at him, "you know, if you can't talk about it, you shouldn't have done it." She said before turning back to the table and grabbing a knife, his eyes widened and he started pulling on the chains, "I wouldn't if I were you, you yank to hard and the rafters will come down on you. Giving you a more painful death than I will."

He started panting but was done moving, "You're gonna kill me!" He shouted out the panic finally hitting him, "You're crazy! You can't do that!" He shouted at her starting to scream.

"Go for it. Scream. No one can hear you Ben." She said loudly, talking over his cry's, "now, shall we start? You're originally from Oklahoma... Rich parents... Blah, blah, blah..." She stared intently at the page running her finger tip over the words written there, "ah, here it is!" She said gleefully, "a few months ago, a young girl in Tulsa, around your age, went missing around the time you and your family moved up here. Says here, she was last seen with you."

"What? I don't know what you're talking about! Now let me go!" He yelled at her almost accusingly. She tsked him and walked towards him with the knife, drawing a straight line up his leg and towards his thigh before she slightly dug it into the meaty flesh there.

He screamed out in pain, "Stop! Please God! Stop!" He screamed out. She did as he asked and stopped but left the knife there, he cried silently for a second before dropping his head, "I killed her... I wasn't meaning too... She just- she just made me so mad." He whimpered out.

"Where's her body Ben?" She asked softly looking at him, pulling out the knife. He gave her the address and hung there, "I'm gonna have to kill you now." She said almost sympathetically. He began screaming and begging for her to let him go, which she never enjoyed. It brought her back to the night where she was the victim. But she had to, this needed to happen.

She decided to make it quick, the sound of his pleas bouncing off the cement walls and giving her a headache, she pulled out her father's pistol before planting a bullet in the boys head. "Sorry Benny, today was the day you faced your judgement, and just like you, I'll face it one day too..." She whispered to his limp body hanging from the ceiling.

She didn't do what she did for no reason, for her it was justice for the poor girl that he murdered.