#I did it I wrote way too much just dance fanfiction

[libra-cant-just-dance]

Guess who finished writing the last chapter of Tainted City >:]

[pissterdaniel]

TIT AUCKLAND FINAL RECAP

the spoilery stuff is at the bottom of the post, the rest is safe

Since June there has been a discord server going for everyone at the Auckland show. It was amazing to make so many friends before even going to the show. We all got to know each other in the months leading up to the event. Super cool!

We all met up for lunch before the show to hang out and exchanged our crafts. (craft haul x) It made me so happy to see people excited to meet Carlos and my dolls :).

@peter-must-die with his amazing shirt holding Carlos

We made our way to the KTK theater, and I bought some merch. Literally shouted when I opened my photocards to see BLONDE QUIFF PHIL!!!!!! :O

I came PREPARED for my meet and greet, had an agenda broken down into 3 steps. I had been overthinking this for months and have lost so much sleep from tit anxiety. The plan was very helpful! I was revising it in the line.

My hands were totally full. Sister Daniel kept on escaping my grip, we think she was trying to run away. I also recall repeatedly doing my Christophe Giacometti (from yuri on ice) impression in the line.

In the meet and greet line I discovered that I randomly have a lot of upper body strength 😅. I was giving out VERYYY tight deep pressure hugs to people who wanted them. It was very calming. I also got a stopwatch out and we did some 4/4/8 breathing. Then our time was almost up, and WE COULD SEE DAN.

I filmed Max's meet and greet for them first. So that was good getting to spend a minute or so in front of Dan and Phil before it was my turn. I had briefed Max on my agenda, so they knew exactly what to do. My full meet and greet post with photos and the video are here (x). THANK YOU SO MUCH @shitwheresfoxy FOR BEING THE BEST GLAMOUROUS ASSISTANT EVER!

Phil did not seem like a human. I stupidly told him he was like an animatronic robot. He is just SO BEAUTIFUL IT DOESNT SEEM REAL. You need to understand, PHIL LESTER IS SO ETHERALLY GORGEOUS IT IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!!!!!! He's just so 🥰. No wonder Dan can't stop looking at him like that in the videos. I get it now.

Dan definitely led my m&g, and I've heard others say this too. He does most of the talking, offers to take the photos, and he had the biggest reactions to things. I made him cackle a few times and I will wear that like a badge of honour. Some other highlights include:

Dan's first reaction to Carlos "uhh.. what?"

Dan's crab hands in our selfie

Dan talking to my camera whilst I fetched something from Max

Their first reaction to my dolls

Phil waving and saying bye to me

BONUS 1 MINUTE AND 39 MINUTE VIDEO OF PHIL HOLDING CARLOS, THIS MEANS THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO ME

I am slightly embarrassed about how excited I got, I went a bit nuts. Told them Carlos was "the love of my life" 🤦. Was completely hyper after the m&g, had major zoomies and couldn't calm down. That's when we caught up with the silver VIP people from the server.

@totally-srs-all-the-time made this STUNNING bedsheet cape and wanted to put it on me to have mega bed sheet titfit. Only when she held it up to me, I thought she was wanting to use it as a weighted blanket to calm me. So I lay on the floor 😂, she still put it on me and got this pic.

Met the phiwi backpack too!!!

I recorded our preshow and put it on youtube (x). Can't believe Olly's figure skating question was answered! That was wickedly cool. There is a very small group of us who got SUPER into ice skating these past couple of months. So to have our niche acknowledged by Dan himself was PHENOMENAL.

We all danced to HOTOGO, @einsteinfrizz 's amazing video from the balcony can be found here (x)

And then it was time for the show.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!

I took notes during intermission and after the show of what I remembered.

Our conspiracies were:

Toilet, Clothes, Bus, and Vegas

"They share clothes." Went on about how their nipples touch the same cloth and did weird nipply gestures.

Lawyer Dan banned Australia, wrote erotic fanfiction about Gollum, and went to jail for killing phil. (Phil then said "hopefully he was not a CEO" and everyone CHEERED SO LOUDLY FOR AGES. They were both caught off guard by the big audience reaction, and it seemed like Dan was genuinely surprised/shocked that Phil said that.

Linguist Phil's favourite word was 'perky nana', he liked to help old ladies cum, and had a secret collection of lesbians.

Phil's 1 minute improv was on stationary. He thought the person said penis, but he changed it to pens, and then decided to change it to stationary. He told a story of how he had a cola scented gel pen and would fill in an entire page and just sniff it.

Early on in the show Phil thought he swallowed a fly and started choking. He then yelled for a "minion" to fetch him water. Dan was taken back by this and it was about a minute before a crew member walked on with his water bottle.

(I'm sensing this show is a lot of Phil saying off-script random shit and dan being shocked by him. Which honestly checks out.)

"Jesus but more shippable" IM SORRY WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY DAN

Phil said reject modernity embrace tradition correctly.

They still think the phanniversary was "last month."

Everyone yelling "gay" together in unison was so healing.

Phil messed up the song lyric again and said "I got the tattoo" instead of "you"

SISTER DANIEL HOLY FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN. I was in the 4th row on the left side which is where she stood. I knew all the spoilers going into it BUT NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED ME. I screamed at the top of my lungs when I first saw her come out. I AM SO THANKFUL FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF GETTING TO SEE HER IN PERSON I WILL NEVER TAKE THAT FOR GRANTED. She is so AAAH. Religious, eye-opening experiences were certainly had. AND SHE WAS IN DOC MARTENS. I'm never gonna be able to put into words how feral she made me.

I would say that I was very familiar with the show content before I got there. But in reality, everything was 100x weirder than I thought it would be. I mean that in the best way possible!!! Dnp were OFF. THE. RAILS. They were still the same people you see in the videos, but uncut and UNLEASHED.

AND THEN THERE WAS THE FACT THAT I WENT HOME WITH AN ACTUAL PROP?!?!?!

At the end of the show, I rushed to the front of the stage to steal the confetti. (I'm a hoe for collecting show confetti, I did the same thing at WAD).

Whilst I was collecting confetti and taking pics of Carlos, one of the stagehands came out a few times, handing out the Australian props to random people standing at the stage.

THIS IS THE GREATEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!!! Here are some close-up photos I took of Obi Wan, and a video of what he can do (x). I walked into TIT with a Sister Daniel and Father Philip doll, and I came out of TIT with Phobi Phan Phenobi.

I also got one of the role model or no-le model cards, it is blank on the other side apart from their signature.

I also got to get up and close with other people's props. I even got to play Max's ukulele. I played the TIT song and I can tell you first hand that that thing was VERY out of tune. I know Dan was only fake playing it, but at least tune it first 😂.

The day after, a big group of us went to Auckland Zoo! Man that was a lot of fun. We signed TABINOFs, and I got a bunchhhh of pics of Phobi Wan, my photo dump is here (x). @spanielt0wel also got a doll, so I made sure to get some photos with them together.

The post-tit depression is REALLLLLL. I miss being surrounded by like minded people. It was so easy to unmask and just be completely myself. I have never felt more like me than when I was surrounded by all the queer, neurodivergent phannies. This was the happiest I've felt in years. So thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who came to talk to me, and to all the friends I've made through the discord 💙.

Now I am back home and terrible influencing up my room cause I never want to forget this amazing experience.

The box frame was inspired by this one

The posters I got signed are looking GOOOOOD. Also Phobi Wan looks so silly sitting with my monster high dolls. I'm gonna treasure him forever. HE MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also thank you to everyone who voted on my poll you've convinced me that #4 is the way to go and I shall be ordering that flag soon.

THANK YOU TIT AUCKLAND

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 17 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

Finally, I'm posting two chapters today because what I originally wrote was too long, (11000 words which is an average of 40 minutes of reading) so I divided it into two. So there is a chapter after this one!

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Enjoy reading!! ❤️

Chapter 17

They had ended up sitting around the large table in the dining room. Cassian had sat facing Luxiana, Azriel was to her left and Rhysand to her right, at the head of the table. Mor was next to Cassian and Amren was facing Rhysand.

The two blondes had been talking together for several minutes now. They hadn't stopped for a second, chatting about everything happily. So much that the three Illyrians hadn't been able to interrupt them for a single moment.

Mor loved Luxiana. She was full of life and so cute that she understood why her three best friends were obsessed with her from the beginning. Even if she hadn't been their soulmate, she would have understood that the three Illyrians liked her.

Amren had been staring at Luxiana nonstop since the beginning. Between sips, she swirled her wine glass in her hand. Outwardly, Amren looked calm and relaxed but her muscles were tense. She felt threatened. And although the blonde knew she was being spied on, she had only thrown Amren a small haughty smile, not even a little intimidated by the brunette's intense gaze. Amren couldn't help it. Something about this woman intrigued her to the highest degree. She had the impression that Luxiana could kill them all but at the same time, she gave that impression to be so fragile that she could just fall and break her neck. The brunette didn't know on which foot to dance on. It was strange.

Luxiana was in turmoil. She loved meeting new people especially when those people were women as powerful as Mor and Amren. She was a big fan. She gave Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel a tender look. They weren't like all the other Illyrians. They had surrounded themselves with warrior women and they seemed to regard them with respect. Of course, they seemed to regard Luxiana as weak and fragile but she could see that it wasn't mean.

Cassian had eyes only for Luxiana. He had rested his elbows on the table and cupped his face to look tenderly at his soulmate. She talked a lot, making a lot of expressions, making big gestures and laughing and Cassian liked every single thing she did. He just couldn't stop looking at her. He felt so good. Luxiana had just asked Mor how she had become a true warrior and she was listening to Rhys' cousin tell her story with a tilted head and an attentive face that reacted to each of Morrigan's words. Her expression was so cute that Cassian melted in his chair. He memorized his soulmate's face so much in his mind that unconsciously, he sent this memory to his brothers via their bonds.

Azriel listened intently to the exchange between Rhys' cousin and his soulmate but he only looked at Mor with suspicious narrowed eyes. She must not flirt with his mate. Was she even attracted to women? Damn, wouldn't he have noticed in those five hundred years if she didn't like men? Suddenly, he saw the image Cassian sent him. His breath caught in his throat. He turned his head towards his soulmate to see her make the same expression again. His heart skipped a beat. "I swear to you, there is no fucking way she would make that face anywhere but here and with anyone but us, is that clear?" he spat through their link.

Rhysand had a smile from ear to ear. He was leaning back on his chair and looking at the table in front of him with a swollen heart and bright eyes. He felt like he was fulfilled. He took a deep breath. His family. They were all there. And now that Luxiana was with them, he finally felt like he was missing nothing. Seeing in his mind what Cassian was showing him, he stared at Luxiana with a tender look. He looked her up and down without being able to stop, happily observing every perfect millimeter of his soulmate's skin. Then, at Azriel's possessive words, he held back a laugh by pursing his lips. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Cassian nodding discreetly to answer his brother but he said nothing. He would never have been able to prevent his soulmate from making any expression just out of jealousy. But, he was glad to know that Azriel wouldn't let his soulmate be so cute in front of someone else. It even suited him a little.

Mor explained what had happened to her. That her parents had wanted to force her to marry the son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court but that she had managed to have it annulled. She had not given Luxiana more details on how she had stopped it but the look she had given Cassian and the disapproving one he had returned by nodding his head from left to right to dissuade her from saying something, had explained it to Luxiana for them.

Luxiana's face had gradually faded, making her lose all trace of joy, forcing the three Illyrians -who noticed it with concern and disappointment- to understand what was happening by concentrating on what was said. Then Mor recounted that her parents had left her at the border of the Autumn Court with a note nailed to his stomach. Luxiana put her hand over her mouth to try to hide her fright while empathy and pure sadness sparkled in her eyes.

Cassian clenched his fists at the memories that stirred a mixture of anger, injustice, and guilt within him, "And when that bastard Eris found her, he didn't help her. He left her there, for dead in the middle of nowhere." Mor looked down and Rhysand and Azriel had their jaw muscles throbbing in their cheeks, signs of their clenched teeth.

But Luxiana's face changed completely. The horror and sadness left her to give way to confusion. She frowned as she blinked several times. "Eris did..." Everyone turned their gaze to her, she then stopped herself as she realized her familiarity. She shook her head to correct herself. "Um, the son of the Lord of the Autumn Court did that?"

Rhysand narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Azriel and Cassian. She had spoken of Eris as if she knew him. But there was no way that was the case. So why was she surprised by his cruelty? “Does that surprise you?”

Luxiana refrained from grimacing or reacting. "A little, because unlike you, I had never heard a bad rumor about him. On the contrary, in fact, he has a rather good reputation," she explained, sinking into a lie. Well, now she knew that Azriel could detect when people weren't telling the truth, so she convinced herself that she wasn't lying but more that she was only telling part of what she knew. "So, I thought that given how adorable you three are, he must be even more so."

The three Illyrians relaxed, confusion slipping from their expressions. Rhys smirked, “So you think we’re adorable?”

Luxiana gave him a half-open, tired look. Of all she had said, he had only remembered that. She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself, proud to see that none of them had been able to detect that she was not telling everything. Then she turned back to Mor to resume the discussion, "How did you manage to get out of it after being left there?"

Mor smiled sadly as she turned a nostalgic look towards the Illyrian with the blue siphons who didn't even see her, too absorbed in observing Luxiana. The white-haired blonde intercepted the expression of Rhys' cousin, so she began to go back and forth between Azriel and Mor with her pupils. She understood that something had happened between the two of them too. "Azriel found me," Morrigan explained, "and since then, I've been living alongside Rhys."

Luxiana raised her eyebrows. She knew the Illyrian was a good spy and was therefore able to find anyone anywhere, but she also knew that the defenses of the Court of Autumn were nearly impenetrable. Suddenly, she realized. She had to suppress a smile of relief or even react at all. Eris must have weakened her court's protection spells to allow Azriel to find Morrigan. She knew he wasn't evil. Not her Eris. "I'm so sorry," Luxiana finally breathed.

Everyone stared at her intensely. Morrigan frowned. "Why would you be?" she asked, confused.

Luxiana leaned against her backrest. She pulled her knees up to press them against her chest and she put her feet on her seat, wrapping her arms around her calves. "What happened to you is awful. You seem like a good person Mor, you didn't deserve to go through this. But I'm sorry for something else. I'm sorry in advance for what I'm going to do to your parents to get you a revenge. Because believe me I'm going to find them and I'm going to break their bones."

Mor smiled softly as she lowered her head, blushing. It had been a long time since she had blushed, actually. She looked back at Luxiana tenderly, silently thanking her for her kind words.

The three Illyrians detailed their soulmate, smiling for Cassian, nodding from left to right with a disapproving look for Azriel and rolling their eyes for Rhysand. They thought she was cute to hear that she believed she was capable of avenging Mor but they were a little worried. Luxiana seemed really saddened for Rhys' cousin, as if what she had told was the most horrible and cruel thing Luxiana had ever heard. It worried them a little because they had just plunged her into a world where she would be surrounded by suffering permanently from now on, but at the same time, it relieved them. Their soulmate must have never lived or heard terrible stories. She must have been happy all her life and no one had ever hurt her. The hearts of the three Illyrians slowly lightened.

Then Luxiana cleared her throat as her electric blue irises flickered between the three males. "What about you?" She asked, suddenly curious. "How did you meet? Although all three of you are very hot, you're not biological brothers, right?"

Cassian burst out laughing because of the explosion of happiness that was bubbling in his chest. He wanted to jump around screaming because he was so happy to know that she found all three of them sexy.

Azriel smirked, a little proud. Their soulmate was intelligent and perceptive.

Rhysand looked at her tenderly, but a glint of haughty ego floated in his pupils. "It's a long story."

Luxiana dropped her feet to the ground to raise an eyebrow at Rhys and lean towards him. “Well, do we have something to do? I don’t think. So I’m listening.”

Azriel lost his smile to grimace for a second. "It's not a very pretty story to hear." He had seen how his soulmate had reacted to what had happened to Mor, how he had seen her heart break on her face or how empathetic she seemed. She seemed to take on the misfortunes of others when they weren't hers. And he didn't want his soulmate to feel sad, not for them. He wanted to make her happy.

Luxiana turned to Azriel, pouting imploringly like a child. She pushed her lower lip out a little more, looking at him intensely with ultra-dilated and bright pupils while blinking exaggeratedly.

Azriel's heart felt like it was melting in his chest at the sight of this cuteness. "I'm saying this for you." He sighed in resignation but swallowed hard despite himself. How did she manage to be even more adorable each time?

“But I want to know everything about you! Absolutely everything! From the day you were born until now,” she insisted, her eyebrows furrowed in determination. “I want to know who you really are.”

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel couldn't resist anymore. They wanted her to really know who they were, based on what they had experienced and not what she had heard about them because of the bad rumors. Azriel nodded, "fine but I would have warned you."

Amren frowned indignantly as she let out a strange sound. She slammed her fist on the table, “Are you really going to tell her everything? We don’t know if we can trust her.”

"Amren," Rhys growled with a stern look at her, forbidding her to continue.

Amren protested curtly, "Don't forget that her best friend is our enemy's wife. And if only that were all." The brunette began to look Luxiana up and down with an even more suspicious look. "She's..."

“I won’t say anything,” Luxiana interrupted before Amren could say too much. Then she turned her attention back to Rhys. “I won’t say anything, I promise. I just want to know everything about you so I can trust you. But I won’t say anything, not even to Feyre.” Suddenly, she had an idea. Her face was sincere and determined as she abruptly extended her pinky finger toward Rhysand. “Pinkie promise. You can’t break a pinkie promise.”

Cassian laughed softly with Mor and Azriel. Rhysand smiled tenderly. Then, although he did not believe the solemnity of this promise, he tangled Luxiana's little finger with his own, unable to refuse contact with her.

"What does tell us you won't break that promise?" Amren asked warily again with a hissing voice.

"I won't!" Luxiana was offended by the brunette's insistence. She was going to get angry but she didn't want to lose her cool. She huffed as she turned to the high lord. "You know what, you just have to create a magic pact between us! Something that would stipulate that if I tell anyone about what you're going to tell me, I'll die on the spot. I think you high lords can do that, right?"

Rhysand laughed, a soft, melodious sound. “I can, but I won’t. I trust you.”

Luxiana jumped up in her chair in surprise and joy, grabbing Azriel's arm and shoulder with both hands to hold on to something. But vibrating with an excitement she couldn't contain, she began to shake the Illyrian in all directions. She turned to Cassian with wide eyes and a broad smile without stopping to move Azriel. "The Lord of the Night Court trusts me," then she cried out a high-pitched sound.

Cassian, Rhysand and Mor burst out laughing at Luxiana's reaction and Azriel's, who let himself be shaken with a jaded look and eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then they ended up telling her everything. Really everything.

Rhysand first started by explaining who his parents were. Who his mother was and how his father had saved her wings. Luxiana's gaze began to sparkle with a thousand flaming lights and a tear, which she had not even felt, ran down her cheek. Rhysand stopped talking when he noticed it. He frowned in worry as he straightened up in his chair. "What's wrong?" He rushed his hand to his soulmate's face to wipe the tear from the back of his knuckles.

Azriel gritted his teeth. She was crying? He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. "I told you so," he growled, "we should stop there."

“No, no, it’s nothing,” she smacked Azriel’s shoulder once, giving him a dark, disapproving look. Then she focused back on Rhysand, “I just think it’s really cute. Please, continue.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian who sighed and shook his head. Their soulmate seemed to feel everything multiplied. They had never seen anyone look so impacted by the story of someone they barely knew.

Rhysand continued. He explained about the relationship between his mother and father. That they didn't really love each other but that they were soulmates and that his mother had always been grateful to his father for saving her wings.

Luxiana nodded, she could understand her mother but she frowned nonetheless. "Is it possible? To have a soulmate and not love him? I mean, from what I know, it's the cauldron that binds two people together because they're made for each other, right? They're just made to match their soulmate."

Rhysand smiled tenderly, thinking she was right. He was even sure of it. Because Luxiana was perfect. She was made for him and he for her. "It's not that simple, many other factors come into play. And my father was not a good person, he was really cruel."

Luxiana could feel the apprehension and fear creeping up on her, freezing her cells. "Was he with you too?"

Rhysand gritted his teeth for a second as he looked down at the bad memories and Cassian and Azriel gave him an understanding look. Mor answered for his cousin with a voice full of resentment, "He was especially with him."

She closed her eyes in desolation, pursing her lips. No parent should be mean to their children. She imagined how he must have felt. How much he must have blamed himself for everything. How bad he must have felt in his own skin, weak and stupid for never having received his father's pride. He must have never felt good enough for anything because his father had never been able to give him affection. Luxiana's heart cracked.

But Rhysand continued his story. He explained that he and his mother had to go to an Illyrian camp -so he could train- where he had met Cassian.

Then the army commander took over to tell his own story. He explained what he knew about his parents, that he slept outside and had to fight for everything.

Luxiana grimaced in sadness, her chin twisting. He had been only a child and he had had to fend for himself. All alone. She imagined the evenings when in the cold, curled up on himself, he cried over the absence of his parents' love. His heart tore a little more in his chest, even hurting a little. Cassian spoke of all this with a smile on his lips and a proud face, but she could see that it was false and that deep down, he was still hurt. "You must have felt so alone," Luxiana remarked almost inaudibly, seeking comfort in Cassian's tender eyes.

The Illyrian, seeing her distress, tried to comfort her. He then told her about the time he had met Rhys and how he had beaten him out but that despite that, Rhys and his mother had invited her to sleep at his place.

Luxiana gave the high lord an affectionate and admiring glance. So he was that kind?

Then they continued explaining that they had then met Azriel and that, although at first they hated each other, as they were not loved by anyone, they started making an alliance and even ended up liking each other.

Luxiana turned to Azriel, waiting for him to talk about his childhood, but he didn't. "What about you? What happened before you met them?"

Mor looked back and forth between the spymaster and Luxiana, huffing as he struggled for words. "Azriel doesn't like to talk about it much."

Luxiana glanced at the blonde, realizing that Azriel must not have had a happy childhood either. She swallowed loudly in apprehension as she turned fully to him, "You really don't want to talk about it?"

“No,” Azriel said, looking down at his soulmate with shining eyes. She looked so worried and anxious. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew it would have been worse for her not to know. She would imagine even worse things. “But I’ll tell you. I’ll always tell you what you want to know anyway.”

Luxiana was biting the inside of her lower lip to keep from blushing.

Azriel looked at her for a second with a proud smile, noticing her confusion before beginning to tell her that he was the son of an Illyrian lord and a commoner. He explained to her that he lived with his in-laws and that his mother-in-law kept him locked up in a dark cell where he was only allowed to go out for an hour a day. He had neither the right to fly nor the right to live.

Luxiana clenched her teeth so hard that her cheeks hurt. She, who had some hope that the spymaster's childhood would be less terrible, now had a completely upset stomach. They forbade him from flying. How horrible to have wings and not be able to use them. She imagined him curled up in a dark corner of his cell. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist. She opened her eyes again, holding back her tears but placed her pupils on Azriel's hand on his thigh. She grabbed his fingers delicately to bring his arm closer to her and look at his scars more specifically. She began to caress the burn marks on his skin with the tips of her fingerprints. "Is that where you got that?"

Azriel watched her do it with a tilted head, observing her reactions with curiosity, learning what kind of person she was. He nodded slowly, explaining to her about his half brothers who had set his hands on fire.

Luxiana wanted to throw up. How could anyone be so cruel? Well, how could anyone be so cruel to an innocent child? She knew why people were cruel… Because she was going to be cruel herself -as she had been many times before- to avenge the three Illyrians and Morrigan.

Then Azriel ended up adding that at eleven years old, he was released into the Illyrian camp of Cassain and Rhysand where his mother had also adopted him.

Then the high lord explained about his sister and mother and Tamlin's betrayal. Then he went on to talk about the war and his father who had recruited him, Azriel and Cassian but who had separated them. Rhysand vaguely recounted the atrocities they had seen and experienced during that time. Then he tensed up, the atmosphere getting a little heavier. He explained that he had been captured by Amarantha's soldiers towards the end of the war and that they had beaten and tortured him.

Luxiana's breathing was precarious. She pursed her lips as she swallowed with difficulty, her heart felt like it was tearing into a thousand pieces. She knew so much what it felt like that it hurt her to hear that someone else had experienced this. Her eyes burned but she did everything not to cry knowing that Azriel would want to stop them from continuing.

As Luxiana was facing Rhysand, her back to Azriel, the latter, sensing her discomfort, narrowed his eyes as he leaned towards her to see her face. But when Luxiana caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she hid herself by turning her head a little more. The master spy understood. "You want to cry," he remarked with a slightly tired look.

Luxiana shook her head sharply, "no..." she said in a much higher pitched voice than usual.

Azriel gave him a disapproving look, and Cassian scoffed, chuckling. But Rhysand reached up to grab his soulmate's face and turn it toward him. "They didn't break me," he added firmly to reassure her. "They didn't know that since I was Illyrian, all they had to do to destroy me was to cut my wings."

Luxiana's face contorted further, her chin quivering, her lips pursed and her dimples protruding. She rolled her eyes to stop herself from crying. Their stories brought back so many bad memories for Luxiana, she couldn't help but feel as bad as she had felt. His wings. Her wings. "How did you get out of there?" she asked, hoping to think of something else and change the subject. Rhysand released her.

Azriel sensing his soulmate's distress sighed but said nothing. His heart ached for her. Or maybe it was the weak bond that already united him to her and that allowed him to feel what she felt. In a comforting gesture, he placed his palm on Luxiana's back then gently moved it up in a caress to her neck, which he gently gripped to massage it.

Luxiana gave him a look filled with surprise and then gratitude, silently thanking him while smiling at him. Then Rhysand continued. He explained to her about Jurian, and about Amarantha's sister. He told her about the fight that the general of the human armies had led against the fae. Then how the redhead had made Jurian suffer for that.

Luxiana clenched her fists on her thighs, grabbing the lace of her dress with her fingers. She knew Jurian well and remembering what Amarantha had done to him filled her with anger.

Rhysand added that his father had found him but as punishment for allowing himself to be captured, he had ordered that the ash stakes be left in his wings.

Luxiana slid down on her chair, leaning back a little more. She was seething with anger, so much that she was dying of heat. How could a father do that to his child? Luxiana knew how much it hurt to injure the Illyrians' wings, they were so sensitive. She cursed Rhysand's father with all her might. She was mad with rage.

The High Lord of the Night Court continued on Amarantha. He spoke of the assassination attempts he had planned against her because he found it unfair that she was not punished. And he came to the moment when he had been imprisoned under the mountain. The room became silent, the atmosphere heavy, hunching everyone's shoulders and making them lower their heads. Luxiana could see the guilt on the faces of Rhysand's friends. They would have liked to help him, to accompany him. But Rhysand had sacrificed himself for them.

She looked at the brown-haired fae with purple eyes who had remained evasive. "What happened to you under the mountain?" She suspected what Amarantha had done to him but she wanted so badly for him to tell her something else.

Rhysand smiled sadly. “Things I’d rather forget. Things I wouldn’t tell anyone about, least of all to you.” They looked at each other in silence for a second.

Cassian took a deep breath, apprehension gnawing at him. “Now you know our story. You know everything. So what do you think of us?”

Luxiana's breathing was rapid. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, she wasn't feeling well. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and only the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her from crying. They had all been through horrors here. Yet, they all seemed so kind. She felt so sad for them. She placed her hand on Rhys' forearm on the table, squeezing it gently in a comforting gesture. Then she crossed her arms. "Okay so I have three questions," seeing that everyone was listening attentively, she continued. "Number one," she turned to Rhysand, "is your father dead? And you better tell me he 's dead because if you don't , I'm going to kill him and that could cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people."

Everyone laughed -except Amren- not suspecting for a second that she could compete against the power of the former high lord. When she could. She could reduce all the high lords to nothing all in one same time. Rhysand raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by his soulmate's words. "He is," he confirmed with a nod.

“Finally some good news,” she breathed, somewhat reassured. “Then, second question,” she turned to Cassian. “Did you beat the shit out of all the Illyrians who doubted you?”

Cassian smiled proudly, lifting his chin, "of course I do."

"Great! Another few people off the list," she exclaimed, making the others laugh. Then she turned to Azirel. "Last question, did you make your mother-in-law and brothers-in-law pay for what they did to you?"

Azriel nodded slowly from left to right. “I don’t want anything to do with them anymore.”

Luxiana gritted her teeth, she didn't like that answer. She was going to burn everything. "Well, that makes," she started counting on her fingers, "Mor's parents, Azriel's brothers and mother-in-law, a few Illyrians just for fun and to go shit on Rhysand's father's grave. Phew, I'm going to have work."

They all laughed heartily -even Amren who smiled softly- and despite everything, their laughter soothed Luxiana.

"She's crazy, I love her!" Mor yelled, banging on the table.

They all calmed down gradually. "Your turn," Cassian finally said, crossing his arms and leaning back against his chair. Luxiana tilted her head questioningly. "It's your turn to tell us about your childhood. You know everything about us, now we want to know everything about you."

[alibasnur]

Luminary (Amit Thakkar x F!Reader)

PAIRING: Amit Thakkar x F!Reader

WARNING: Confession, first kiss, mutual pining, Second Person POV

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

AUTHOR’S NOTE: After procrastinating for almost a month I’m like you know what? I’m posting this. It’s a Yule Ball themed fanfiction that I wrote because I’m inspired by this post. But since I’m worried that I might end up making my friend’s character too OOC, I made this into a x reader fanfiction instead 😄

The Yule Ball would’ve been easier had you gone to have fun alone. But when you are in love, things get complicated. Suddenly, someone else mattered to you. No matter how lovely that person was, you could adorn yourself for hours, and still wonder if it was enough.

Your eyes focused on scanning through the Entrance Hall for a sign of your partner in the crowd of students. And found him you did, patterns were woven on his outer coat, a long, silver-embroidered shawl over his shoulder with the other end hung on his arm, that was the way Amit stood out. 

The princely quality of the arrangement made you flutter. You hid behind the stone wall, telling your poor heart to calm down. 

Amit was two flights of stairs away, repeating his steps and muttering to himself, a contrast to the charming attire he put together that would otherwise make him look pleasantly intimidating. Your chest did something funny and it couldn’t be helped. He was just so endearing. 

You jumped a little when he spotted you. As you walked out of your hiding spot, he put a hand on his chest, as if he had been disarmed without a spell, stunned and speechless, and now you were even. His hand was offered, convincing you to not shy away.

Waltz filled the air and couples danced to it. Each pair looked different from the direction of the chandeliers. The hem of your attire gave the impression of a comet trail, hands and arms attached to your dance partner in his midnight sky blue coat. 

He kissed the back of your hand at the end of the first Waltz. He could be so coy as to avoid looking at you in the eye, but you noticed the red tint growing on his cheeks. 

The merry died down as midnight approached. The clock showed half past eleven in the evening and the orchestra had been playing a softer-sounding arrangement. 

By the end of the 7th year, many of your friends were either courting or engaged. By the looks of it, only true couples stayed for the slow dance, which wasn’t the case for both of you. But to be there with Amit didn’t feel out of place. You felt like an actual couple, in some way. 

He hadn’t said anything about it, neither had you. But you could’ve sworn that at some moments, you almost got to that point. He would raise your hope and say ‘I want to speak to you about something’ and after a moment of pause, he would say something entirely different.

Sometimes, you had a dreadful reminder that someday, he would remember you only briefly, like a passing eclipse, or a red dye on a maiden’s hand washed off too early, not enough to leave a stain.

At some point, both of you agreed to retreat yourselves, shifting from the ballroom full of light from the crystal chandelier to a dimmer part of the castle that was the Central Hall. 

It seemed that they cast a charm on the bridge, the falling snow melted and dripped down the lake as soon as they hit the ground.

Amit, like the admirer that he was, stared at the vast open sky as you both walked through the bridge near the Viaduct Courtyard.

“I love how clear it is here.” His eyes twinkled at them before they stared back at you. “My family lives in a big city, sometimes it’s too clouded with pollution to see anything.” 

“Luckily you spend most of your years here. You better enjoy them while you can.”

“And I’m grateful for it.” He sighed. “Oh, I will miss this so much.”

“You’re really going to travel, aren’t you? I mean, after graduation, of course.”

“I am, and I’m already thinking of my first destination.” He perked. 

“And you’re going to write a book too.” You chuckled. “That’s wonderful.”

The hold of your hand around his arm released. You walked ahead, much to his confusion. Arms crossed with your back facing against him, leaving him a few steps away. 

You could see the sighing of your deep breath in the cold air, and so he noticed. You heard a flap of a fabric, the shawl he wrapped around your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Can I write about you in the details of our adventure in the fifth year?” 

The gloom on your face turned into a grin now.

“No, please, not about me.” Your head shook. “Imagine if Professor Weasley drag me back just to give me detention if she found out!” You uttered in a loud whisper.

“Or, she would be proud of you! Maybe she would say ‘This one was my student once!’ who knows?” He shrugged.

“Amit!” You urged.

“Alright! I’m just joking.” His hands raised in surrender. “I won’t mention your name, I'll guarantee that.”

“Okay, that will do just fine.” You sighed in relief. “Although I’m sad that I won’t meet my friends as much. You won’t forget about me, won’t you?”

“What? That’s ridiculous, I won’t!”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

“Then, promise me that you’ll write to me.” 

You extended your little finger, which he took without a doubt.

“I promise.” 

A silly idea came out of nowhere, you curled your finger on his palm, he laughed from the ticklishness on his skin, breaking the rest of the melancholy that remained in the air.

“Hey! What was that for?”

You had no replies, only a mischievous smile that invited him. 

Amit crouched from the playful attack that you brought to his hips, while you wrapped his shawl around your head, hiding your bare neck away from what he sent back.

Laughter echoed around the thick stone walls, and the paintings fussed. The two of you ran through Sir Nicholas’ see-through form, only stopping for a while to apologize before going back to your childish game of chase. 

You didn’t remember when was the last time you sported around this way. You tackled him, and he tackled you.

But the laughing fit gradually subsided and both of you fell on the marble floor. He lied down to catch his breath, while you sat beside him and stared, as the moonlight from outside the window shone his face in the most flattering way. 

There was a certain solemnity in the air that none of you wanted to move away, although you were both too close to be appropriate. Thankfully, the Gargoyles’ eyes didn’t reach this place enough to make their teasing remarks, nor Peeves. 

His stare shifted from the ceiling, and fell on the silver embedded silk that curtained your face.

“Well, look at you!” He breathed out, shaking his head in astonishment. “This suits you so well! You look—” 

He slightly tucked away the silk, revealing your skin and the growing flush that appeared rose-stained at his affectionate gaze. He quietly wished that he could just kiss it, suffocating to simply think of.

“—Like a bride.” 

The words spilled out like a wish, more silent and stifled.

A bride— something unspoken started to surface, and at this point, it became inevitable.

Amit had his potion ingredients mixed up the other day, for the first time in years, he received a scolding from Professor Sharp. 

His poorly drawn star chart sent quite a shock to Professor Shah. She wrote to his family, saying that their son has been distracted. 

But nothing fruitful will ever come out of him, no matter how much they ask. Their beloved son has learned to keep his secret in all his letters. 

And he knew perfectly why. Why he had been losing his sleep and his appetite, and why he messed up his sentences in your presence every once in a while, when you gave him a compliment or when you stood so close that he could feel your breath tickling his neck.

It all came to this moment when his turmoil was at peak. He needed to break out, to give himself some closure, and, to give you something you had been waiting for, although he hadn't known about it, not yet.

“I must say something.” 

His voice broke out in an unusually daring way.

“What is it?” 

“But—” He made a pause, and you noticed the hesitation from him as he furrowed his eyebrows. “If you don’t like what I’m about to say.. would you still be my friend?” 

“Of course I will, you silly.” You let out a chuckle. “Well, say it, Amit.”

“Oh, Gods.. Alright.” He took a sharp breath. “I know that we will part ways soon.. but, when I think of the possibility that we will grow apart, or that you may end up with someone else— I don’t think I will be able to take it.”

“You don’t want me ending up with someone else?”  Your eyes softened, turning just as warm as the rest of your face. “Then, who would you rather I end up with?” Your words were like a taunt.

“I’d rather—” And then he finally said it. “I would rather you end up with me.”

His sight avoided you, and the moment of silence that swole up washed him with regret. It became unbearable to be at the mercy of your towering gaze, no matter how tender it seemed.

“I won’t pressure you to return the sentiment.”

His voice shook, trying to tone down his sincere wish to not chase you away. 

His lips trembled as he tried to find an explanation for himself. Sometimes, you would find yourself staring at them, and wondering.

“You know, I just want to...”

His next words drifted away as your thumbs reached for his chin. 

“..If that’s how you feel about me—” 

You didn’t know what had got into you. As puzzled as he was, he couldn’t help but to look at you as he felt your fingertip on his lips.

“—Then, I hope you wouldn’t mind..”

The floral scent of your perfume started to cloud his judgment, and his lips parted for you to take.

The sheer blue silk on your head fell on him as well, acting like a partition between both of you and whoever might walk in. And if they do, they’d be welcomed by a pair of silhouettes, lips pressed together underneath the embroidered silk, although full of silver thread, but sheer enough to be exposed. 

As you breathed for air, his head raised slightly, unwilling to be parted from the kiss that ceased his doubts. You didn’t know his lips would be so soft as they moved to feel more of you, so delicate.

As you rested your head on his chest, the thumping of his heart could be heard alarmingly fast.

Amit looked at the stars just outside the window. Everything he loved always seemed unreachable. But now they were all in his arms.

[manifesting-minerva]

Ghosts & Banshees (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader) - Part 1

Author's Note: I welcome you all to my blog. It has been ages since I wrote fanfiction on here but I thought I should get back in it. I used to have a fanfiction blog back in 2016 where I wrote for multiple fandoms but ended up deleting my blog in 2021. I got obsessed with Call of Duty (I never played it but Ghost and König set a wild fire in me) so I thought I'd give it a shot. Naturally, I'm not an expert when it comes to the games or anything related to the military so mainly it's from research I did. Enjoy this piece (might write additional parts in the future if it does well). - Minerva 🐦‍⬛

Summary: An old friend of John Price joins the 141 team, by his recommendation.

Warnings: Mild language, alcohol ingestion, inaccuracies when it comes to military.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Monday morning. Bright and early, the men of Task Force 141 woke up at the crack of dawn. Their body's internal clock had gotten used to them waking up at 5am but the booze they indulged themselves in the previous night had taken a bit of a roll on the aforementioned "internal clock".

Nonetheless, with their bodies soaked in sleep and taking heavy steps, they made their way down to the base's mess hall, trying to eat away the hangover they manifested the night before. Johnny and Kyle were wiping their foreheads, trying to soothe the aching boom in the heads while walking languidly behind them was Ghost who seemed to be sober than them.

"Liver of steel you got there Johnny." Ghost teased the Scot, his British accent thick in sleep as he watched his friend fighting to keep his breakfast down. Gaz wasn't much help to Johnny either as he also chewed his food slowly. Too weak to reply and with little energy, Johnny shot a cold and annoyed gaze at his friend.

Ghost watched the men in front of him as he washed his breakfast down with a cup of black tea. Nothing soothed his soul like a nice cuppa in the morning (or any time of the day).

Minutes had gone by and they exited the mess hall, laughing about the moments they shared the previous night from Price's arm wrestling to Kyle's poor flirting techniques to Johnny's drunk dancing on tables. Ghost always considered himself as he is. A ghost. Watching from the corner silently, occasionally beating Price's unbeaten streak of arm wrestling to pulling Kyle in a chair after embarrassing himself in front of the ladies to pulling down Johnny off the tables and shoving glasses of water in front of him to sober up, convincing him it's a type of vodka (which Johnny took enthusiastically).

They reached Price's office who jumped off his chair when he watched his men enter, trying to compose himself with a big smile on his face. "Good morning gentlemen." He coughed as he settled with them around the table.

The men adjusted comfortably in their seats, waiting for the meeting to start. "Alright lads, I know last night was tough and thankfully today we don't really have a lot of work to do but we do have a mission coming up in the next few months that would need your undivided attention." He looked over to Johnny who was slowly dosing off in his chair. Ghost, "ever-so-gently", took the initiative to smack his friend in the back of his head, surprising Johnny.

"This should wake you all up." In Price's hand was a manila folder which he planned on the table. "Since this mission is sensitive to say the least, we need a pair of extra hands to help us complete it successfully. Hence why I asked an old friend of mine to assist us in the upcoming mission which she kindly and gladly accepted. She is one of the best snipers and combat fighters I've ever worked with...no offence gents."

"Did he just say 'she'?" Johnny whispered loudly.

"Ah so I do have your attention then Soap!" Price chuckled. "Now you all better keep it in your pants. She is also a medic and I'm sure she'll find a way to castrate you in your sleep if you try something funny. Come in Sergeant Y/N."

And there she was. Standing at 5"4 feet tall in black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that hugged her body nicely. Her soft dark brown hair danced behind her as her brown eyes scanned the room.

"That's not a very nice way to sell me Captain." She chuckled as she made her way over to him. Jaws dropped.

"She has my undivided attention." Johnny whispered to the two men seated next to him. From his cold state, Ghost felt something inside him jolt, like a bullet just fired in his chest. A warm sheet of sweat covered his body, pupils dilated as he watched you and Price hug as he greeted you. No one ever took Price for the "huggy type" person but all formalities flew out the window when he patted her back gently afterwards.

"Welcome Y/N to Task Force 141. We are glad to have you with us. She will also be doing training with the new recruits," Price announced. "Just in case you get bored." He whispered in your ear, chuckling.

Y/N observed the men in front of her when her eyes fell on the only masked man in the room. But before she could introduce herself properly, Johnny bounced from his seat, finding his newly hidden energy.

"I'm Johnny but you can call me Soap." He shook her hand gently and beamed a smile. Kyle was up next.

"I'm Kyle but you can call me "yours"." He said with a small smirk on his face. She swore she felt Price's eyes roll to the back of his head as did the masked man's.

"It's too fuckin' early Gaz." Price scoffed.

"It's Gaz." He said when he received a silent response from the men. A heavy hand landed on Gaz's shoulder and was pulled back. And there he stood at 6"4 feet, dressed in tight fitting black clothes and a balaclava with a painted ghost mask on it with black shadows around his eyes. His fluffy blonde lashes never once fluttered as his eyes were stuck on her, like he's never seen a woman before.

Intrigued by the new member, Ghost approached silently, taking his hand out to introduce himself. Standing tall, towering over her tiny self, he shook her hand.

"Ghost." He said. Short and sweet.

"But you can call him-"

"That's enough Johnny!" Ghost barked.

Once they let go of the handshake, Price stepped in. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a tour of the base as well as showing her her sleeping quarters. Her place wasn't big but it was comfortable enough for at least 2 people to live in. A kitchenette, a bathroom, a double bed and a living room with a comfortable couch, TV and a balcony that led to the outside. All she had to do was spice it up with her taste in decorations.

"If you need any help or have questions, we don't bite we're literally next door." Soap offered as he placed her bags in her apartment followed by Gaz. Ghost stood at the frame of the door leaning as he scanned her apartment.

"Thank you gents. I appreciate the warm welcome." She beamed at them.

"If you want, tonight we're heading for a couple of drinks if you want to join us. It's a good opportunity to get to know you a bit more." Gaz said, hoping she'll say yes, to which she did.

***

That evening Task Force 141 gathered around the bar table, downing a pint of Guinness each, laughing along each other's jokes.

"So bonnie," Soap licked the froth from his lips. "What's your code name?"

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "You didn't read my Manila file? I'm impressed at your restraint Soap."

"I'm more of an upfront guy you know. Like to look people in the eyes when I talk to them. He smirked like.

"Do you want to take a guess?" Her lips landed back on her pint of Guinness as she looked around, her eyes landing on Ghost. He is thankful yet again for his balaclava that hid his blush.

"It's Banshee. Price actually suggested it years ago." She chuckled. Price patted himself on the back for this one. "Ay, you're fuckin lethal Y/N." He said sipping on his drink.

"Why do they call you 'Soap' Johnny?" Y/N asked, spinning the subject to the man next to her.

"Let's say I clean up well." He winked at Y/N. "I'm fast, efficient, accurate." While Soap continued praising his agility and the speed he can clean a room and his urban warfare tactics (as Gaz called it "jerking himself off with his own compliments"), Y/N's eyes get again landed on Ghost. His legs splayed open covered in dark jeans and a shirt that was two sizes smaller than his actual size. The way his muscles were ready to rip the sleeves of his shirt, his dark tattoos littering his arms and if her eyes served right, they landed on his crotch where a small bulge could be seen. Immediately averting her eyes when she noticed Ghost's hot gaze on her.

He must hate me. She thought to herself as she diverted her attention back to the rest of the team.

And nothing short could be said about Ghost couldn't take his eyes off her. The way she threw her head back in sweet laughter or the way she punched Soap's arm when he teased her. Or the way her lips gently closed around the rim of the glass and swallowed her beer.

Ghost knew something was about to change.

Ghost knew he was fucked.

[zuzsenpai]

Zuzu's fanworks year in review 2024

So as a lot of you are probably aware, I had a downright awful year for both my physical and mental health. The hits just kept on coming. It seriously hindered my creativity, which bothered me a lot given how productive my 2023 had been. But I'm not here to spend paragraphs being angsty about all the things I could have done, because there's really no point in that? The year is over. So instead I'm going to try and focus on what I did do, and what I would like to feel good enough to accomplish in 2025.

Fanart:

January: A Koushiro birthday present (Digimon) for my wonderful friend Hidden. And the Miles and Uncle Ray (Ace Attorney) bonding time they deserve.

February: Do you like Ace Attorney? Do you like sharks? This happened. I had SO MUCH FUN with these

August: Yamato reunited with the swan boat (Digimon). And Jou and Mimi reenacted a scene from the Digimon 25th anniversary video. This second one in particular I love the coloring I did.

October: Digimon LOST AU headcanons, Koushiro Week edition. See fanfic section for more details on this set of headcanons

December: Another Ace Attorney Uncle Ray fanart which I will be publishing tomorrow, so stay tuned for that!

Fanfiction/Headcanons:

January: I published the final chapter of "So Come and Dance with Me", my Daisuke/Michael Digimon fic which had taken a year to finish. I am really proud of this one, because I felt like I was able to take a character we know very little about, and flesh him out as an adult.

February through July: I wrote over 100k words of a fanfic I decided not to publish, or even talk about very much. I did this for two reasons: one, because I wanted to write something that was just for me. Something to reread whenever I want and say "Wow this is mine and it's exactly what I wanted." And two, because I was getting way too focused on engagement and the positive and negative feelings associated with it. Did this help with that second part? Who knows! But I enjoy the fic a lot, and I plan on coming back to it for at least another 100k words.

October through December: I watched Billiam's LOST retrospective and decided I needed to make it about Digimon. I do plan on continuing these headcanons, whether they become a fanfic or not. Because I love Digimon and I love LOST. They're the same show.

Upcoming in 2025:

Fanfiction: Edit and publish the three NaNo 2023 chapters of "Somewhere Only We Know".

Headcanons: More Digimon LOST AU!

Roleplay: To hone my writing skills, I plan to start doing discord roleplay again, probably starting with Digimon and eventually moving on to Ace Attorney

Video Games: Hello Kitty Island Adventure, AA replay

Cosplay: Beanix (Ace Attorney) and Lofi Girl

New Year's Resolution: To read a new manga series every month and to go through my entire "Watch Later" playlist on YouTube

Other: Isopod terrarium!

All in all, I am pretty happy with and proud of everything I accomplished this year, whether I shared it or not. In the coming year, I'm not going to push myself too much or fret about not doing anything. I absolutely want to enjoy what I work on. And if that's only like half of one of those above things, I want to be proud of that.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who talked to me, helped me, and engaged with my works and my life in general this year. I love you all and I hope we all continue to love each other next year too.

[davycoquette]

Questionnaire~

Thank you for the tag, @drchenquill!

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I always call it a hobby, but almost always prefixed with some form of, "greatest," "most important," or "favorite." I think way of life fits a helluva lot better. I've been writing since I can remember.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

The journal one. I have like 900 I'm actively writing in at this very moment.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

Cormac McCarthy. The love I have for my shitty characters. The agonizing unignorable need to put words on paper or screen.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

The singing one. I am not ashamed of my writing, but I have been taught to be ashamed of my singing lmfao. Which is weird and dumb because singing isn't something I go around telling people I can do decently - I don't tell people, "Oh, I sing," or, "I'm a singer." So, I have nothing to prove on that front, yet... I don't think I could make a peep of noise if someone said, "Sing me a song." Meanwhile, even when my writing's not at it's best, I'm like, "Yeah, I'm a writer. Here's some shit I wrote that isn't good. Sometimes I write good stuff, though."

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

I mean... in the literal sense, sure. A story looks different from the eyes of a character. By the same token, it helps me "understand" when people make choices I've not personally made. I think, for this reason, it's important to write about characters with different belief systems than we have - to write about them as sympathetic people with complex emotions. Not just to villainize or cathartically punish them, but to explore why people do the things they do and what life events might drive them in that direction. But cathartic character murder has its time and place, and who am I suggest what others write? Y'all do y'all.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

I have not used LiveJournal since I was a teen - is it still a thing people use??? That sounds nostalgic and fun. Not sure what FFN is; something to do with fanfiction? I only write original fiction, so that rules it out if so. AO3 is very cool, but the interface isn't my favorite. Also fanfic-heavy, so I never know if I've got a place there. Tumblr always freaked me right the fuck out, but the Writeblr community has proven to be my favorite writing community I've discovered online. And in a very short timespan, I might add!

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

I do not use AO3 but wordcounts can never be high enough 😎

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Probably too many to count. Little House on the Prairie A Separate Peace The Road Fight Club (recently rewatching this was humbling because it showed me how much of my writerly personality seems to be inspired by the way it rearranged my brain chemicals) Bullet Train (I fucken love this movie) Lawn Dogs Box of Moonlight Harold and Maude (book & movie) Pride and Prejudice (book & movie)

9. What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

I've received some absolute banger compliments, and I don't want to dismiss any in favor of others. My favorite compliments are often ...questions? Just things that let me know people really did read, absorb, and are interested in things I wrote. Also, my love language is when people think about me of their own volition. So, any time people come to me apropos of nothing or say "this reminds me of you/your characters/your writing, I giggle and kick my feet and do a lil' happy dance.

10. What defines your writing style?

Gritty, casual. If it was art, it'd be the kind with the sketchlines still visible. Deep, silly. Visceral, I hope.

Taglist and blank template under the cut!

@albatris

@capnmachete

@harmonic-melodii

@illarian-rambling

@michellekarnold

@nathaniel-zellos

@sableglass

@saturnine-saturneight

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

9. What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

10. What defines your writing style?

[bababaka]

Tell me a story. And i'll tell you a thousand more - Bade x reader

Summary: Hollywood Arts, the most privilleged arts school in the USA. And amongst many young talented teens, you were chosen to enter it. To be study there and be part of it. You couldn't believe it.

"Holy shit! I got in!"

This will change your life! And you are determined to make the most of it.

Warnings: swear words, not edited completely, i just needed to get this out of drafts, i will later edit.. And... that's it i guess? Like, bullying, mean teachers, but nothing much i guess. Oh, i also used google translate. So yeah. Have fun.

Author's note: so, i had this in my drafts for a while. I always had a crush on these two, and nobody wrote a fic with those two that fulfilled my need for them, so... here i am. Trying to mash my thoughts together and write something at least nice or ok. Im trying to write well. Don't have high expectations, im not a seasoned writer yet. Might never be. Also, unfortunately for me and you guys, this is a multichapter fanfiction. Sooo, you'll have to bear with me with slooooow updates. And im sorry for that. Anyways, enough chit chat, i present you, the chapter one to this mess.

Chapter 1 : I got in!

“Hollywood Arts”. The most privileged arts school in the United States of America. Only the most talented people passed the test. The list of competitors was huge. But, here you were, Y/N Y/L/N, in front of the school gates. You had passed the test, thousands of people competing against each other, and you had succeeded.

Honestly, it seemed too good to be true. The majesty of the construction, students, certainly in their second and third year, full of confidence, dancing, singing, playing, drawing, acting and even proclaiming poetry.

This was too much to digest.

You could barely believe it when you read the email, your mother cheering and shouting in the background, while you remained frozen staring at the computer, reading and re-reading your school admission.

The best arts school in the country.

You entered.

Holy shit! I entered!

You have always been passionate about dancing.

It all started when your mother caught you in your room dancing to “hips don’t lie” in a completely clumsy and enthusiastic way. She then decided to take you to dance classes. You were 4 years old.

Years passed and you fell in love.

Dancing was expressing yourself. Tell a story. Saying what words were sometimes unable to express. Sadness. Happiness. Emotion. Desire. Anger. Feelings in their purest form.

And then, you discovered ballet.

Ballet made your heart race in a way nothing else did. The slow and elegant steps, fast and rigorous. Dancing made you feel alive, happy, ecstatic.

At the height of your 10 years, watching a small part of the film your mother was watching, Black Swan, before her noticing your presence and kicking you out to your room, you found yourself trapped, in a trance, enchanted by the dance, by the way how the actress moved, how she leapt into the air and landed softly on the stage.

The next day, you begged your mother to take you to ballet classes.

At first, it was difficult. The dance classes previously were fun, relaxed. Here, they asked for excellence. Your teacher was strict and classmates were mean. There were many days when you came home crying or upset. Your mother tried to change classes, convince you to go back to dance classes, but you were stubborn. And you were more than determined to show everyone, your teacher, your classmates, that you were good, that you could be the best. So you did what you could, trained and trained, danced until your toes grew calluses and you could no longer support yourself properly.

It was difficult, but now, more than ever, you saw the results of your efforts. Oh, how you would love to see the faces of the girls who tried to get into the school but failed. You did it.

#Suckit

You would love to rub it in each of their faces. But, you didn't have time for that. What you had to do was take a deep breath, enter those gates and find where your first class would be.

Here we go.

The hallways were crazy, lost students like you walked by, friends who hadn't seen each other for the entire vacation and others who argued, dissatisfied with the classes they fell into.

Although you felt tempted to ask one of the students, you thought it would be safer to ask an adult. Supervisor, coordinator, any adult. A teacher, janitor.

You didn't trust students, especially at a talent school, the ego and arrogance must be astronomical.

You watched Glee. You didn't want to end up in a crackhouse.

But unfortunately, the hallways were full of teenagers, and there was no teacher, sign, or voices coming out of speakers magically guiding you in the direction of your next class.

You look around, searching for someone who was as lost as you. You didn't want to be the only idiot who didn't know their way around.

You find something similar.

A boy your age, talking and gesturing. He seemed to be asking a paralyzed girl for directions. She didn't even seem to be paying attention.

You didn't know exactly why she was perplexed, maybe he was saying absurd things, but you wouldn't be surprised if the cause of the paralysis was the boy's beauty.

He was beautiful. Dark skin, brown hair, delicate features, not to the point of being androgynous, but of being harmonious, pleasing to the eye. A relaxed brown look, although it is becoming confused and dull.

You decided to step in and save the girl the embarrassment of being caught drooling, and, as a bonus, get the information you so desperately wanted. The direction for your next class, acting.

– Excuse me, uh, I'm lost. Could you help me?

This seemed to work. The boy's posture relaxed, and the girl, in turn, came out of her trance and began to glare at you, shooting lasers from her eyes.

The boy smiled. And, wow. He had incredibly white teeth, and it looked like you were the only girl in the world, the tiny curve of his mouth pulled you in like he was the center of the Earth. The look that had a charm, brown like melted chocolate and all you wanted was to dive in and get lost in them.

Perhaps you have entered a trance.

But as soon as he started talking, you forced yourself to pay attention and not make a fool of yourself.

– I'm also lost. I was asking her – he turned to the “laser beam look”, who immediately stopped with the murderous expression. – But I don’t think you know, do you?

– What? I know! Of course I know! Nobody knows more than me! – and then she started walking, supposedly in the direction of the room where the boy had his class. – You're a first year, right? – she asked the pretty boy, completely ignoring you.

He looked at you sideways.

– Uh, yes, yes, I am. – She nods, and turns forward, determined, as she starts talking without stopping.

She says her name, Trina Vega, how she got into school, how she is so talented at so many things, how popular she was, and that they would make a great couple. At this part, you were shocked, eyes widening quickly, mouth falling open. She was… direct.

And maybe a little clueless, considering that the boy started to walk more slowly, putting distance between him and Trina, and standing next to you.

He leans into your side.

– She's a little… eccentric…

You laugh.

– That may be an understatement. – You look at Trina, who continued to talk. – Look, she hasn't even noticed that you're not paying attention, or even close to her.

It was his turn to laugh.

– Yeah… – He clears his throat. – I'm Beck, nice to meet you. – He stops for a moment, and extends his hand to you.

You say your name and take his hand, shaking it. Soon he started walking again so as not to lose sight of Trina, who was still talking.

– You’re a first year too, right? – You nod in response. – Yeah, I imagined it. Which course did you enroll in?

– Dance, more specifically, ballet. You?

– Cool. I came to do drama, acting.

– Cool. – You smile, he reciprocates.

For a moment, you forgot what you were saying, going and even thinking. He was cute, handsome and had a nice voice to listen to, something rare coming from a teenager. The short hair thrown to the side, looked soft, made you want to run your fingers through the strands.

The cute boy's small, happy smile was damaging your brain, because the world disappeared around him and you couldn't think about anything else.

Until, finally, Trina realized that Beck wasn't close to her, much less listening to what she was saying.

– Hey! – she called. You turned to her, who had a frown that turned into a forced smile. – We arrived, and you didn’t tell me your name. – She leans over and smiles at Beck.

You were ignored, again.

– Oh, it's Beck. And this is. – He tries to introduce you, say you name and be polite. But Trina interrups him, muttering “whatever” and heading back to the door.

Well, that was nice.

– Sikowits, I brought two lost students. – Then the bell rings, and Trina turns to Beck. – I'll see you around, Beck. – He blinked. And gone, probably to his own class.

– Please don't. – Beck says, with a pained expression. But it was too late, Trina couldn't hear him anymore, or at least, she pretended not to.

You sympathized with the situation.

It seems that being too handsome had its downsides.

His attention returned to the teacher who was at the door.

Bald, messy hair and beard, a slightly unbalanced look, layer after layer of clothing, he had a sloppy style. Maybe he was a hippie. Or just weird. It was probably both.

The hippie professor smiled, in a warm, disturbing way (you seriously wondered if that man was sane. You hoped he was).

– Be welcome! What are your names?

Beck withdraws into himself, becoming shy. How cute.

– Beck Oliver.

The please-don't-be-crazy teacher leans over to look at a list that was laid out on the table. The list of student names.

He turns to the boy beside him.

– Oliver? Alberto Oliver?

Beck puts his hand on the back of his head, looks at you sideways, and nods.

– Yes, but I prefer Beck.

– Understood! Come in, come in. – He calls Beck with his hand enthusiastically, the boy enters and sits in one of the chairs. Then, the bald professor turns to you. – Your name?

You say your full name.

– Oh yes. It's here too. Come in and sit down. The class is about to start. I just have to find the lost and innocent sheep that are lost in the corridors.

You made a face when you heard the phrase… He sounded so weird that way…

As long as he didn't kill or abuse anyone and was a good teacher, you wouldn't have a problem.

You entered the room and deciding quickly and safely, you turned to Beck, hoping to find an empty seat next to the boy. But, as expected, all the seats evaporated, and Oliver found himself surrounded by people, mostly girls.

You sighed and sat in the front, next to a girl with red hair (it didn't look natural, but you'd ask later) who had a friendly smile on her face. It seemed like a good option.

You sat down, and introduced yourself. The girl smiled, with her white teeth and a gentle and innocent aura formed around her.

– I'm Cat!

You smiled, enchanted by the redhead's cuteness.

– Cat? Like the animal? – the girl walked away, running her hand through her hair, her brow furrowed.

– What? What do you mean by that?

– No! I'm just saying that cat sounds like a kitten. – You explained yourself, nervously. You didn't want to scare the girl.

– Kittens? I like kittens! They're so cute!

You let out the breath you were holding. Cat returned to the bubble of innocence and happiness that she was at the beginning.

– Yes, they are.

Then, the professor, Sikowitz, if that was really what Trina called him, came back into the room, with a coconut and straw in one hand, and sunglasses in the other.

– Well done, class! I'm not going to ask you to introduce yourselves. You will improvise a scene. You will play the person next to you, I don't care if you don't know each other. Create a character and then live the character!

The Hippie Man asked them one by one to come forward in front of the class.

There were some interesting and funny monologues.

A black boy, with dreadlocks, a beautiful smile and lots of charm, played a shy nerd who stuttered around girls and had a puppet who made derogatory comments about the situation.

The scene was hilarious. Especially when he started interacting with the students while in character.

There were some very good ones.

Beck, who, to your surprise, played one of the girls surrounding him, and, unfortunately for Sikowitz, used the teacher as his scene partner. He was visibly uncomfortable. And the girl too. Shrinking in her chair as Beck performed, exposing how irritating she was.

She'll probably leave the boy alone after this.

Probably.

There was also another girl, brown hair, black leather jacket and pants. She was incredible. Before getting into character, she seemed closed off, grumpy, with a frown on her face. But, as soon as the scene began, her entire expression and body language changed to a more clumsy and agitated girl like a nice but extremely clumsy girl.

And other performances could improve. You were part of the last group. See, you were a dancer, not an actress. You knew you had to take acting classes, but that didn't mean it was your strong point.

You had to play Cat. You weren't horrible, but you could have done better. When he had to face all the attentive eyes of your classmates and the teacher, a chill took over your stomach and a pressure to not make mistakes was placed in your mind. At first, it was difficult, but as the scene developed, your performance improved.

As the last student finished presentation, the teacher stood up, applauding.

– Very good! You have to learn and perfect the ability to transform into a character in a short time, to analyze your character and to transform yourself in the snap of a finger. – He snapped his fingers right in your face, you jerked away reflexively, startling yourself. He smiled. And the bell rang. – Anyway. That's all for today. You even had the chance to socialize and get to know each other. – he said as everyone got up and left. You did the same, gathered your things and stood up. You were at the door when you heard him sigh and murmur:

– Ah, being young, I can remember what it was like to have dreams and hope.

…You were sure this wasn't normal…

You heard your name. You turned around, and saw red hair, you looked down, realizing that Cat was smaller than you. That made her even cuter.

– What class do you have now?

You searched your pockets, in the slim hope of finding your schedule. After long, embarrassing moments, you found it and read it out loud.

– Ballet.

– Oh, I have singing lessons now – Cat seemed to deflate. But only for a few seconds. – Do you want to sit with me at lunch?

You responded quickly, jumping at the opportunity of not having to be alone during lunch.

– Yes of course! – You looked around, remembering Beck, hoping to see him, but in vain, he had already disappeared into the corridors. But, you didn't let that bother, or sadden you, you would invite him to sit with you at lunch, in the low probability of being able to do so before the boy was bombarded by people.

– OK! Until lunch then!

Finding the ballet class was easy. You just followed the smell of pain, tears, deceit and extreme competition.

…Actually, you just followed the girls in buns and leotards.

You entered the room, or rather dance salon. The floor was smooth and black, a large mirror covering the entire wall, a large speaker and a piano at the back of the room.

The teacher, apparently, was not there. But the students were already stretching. Some in groups, others alone.

You saw some faces you had already anticipated. The rich, mean girls who were born doing ballet. The girl obsessed and completely focused on doing her best, making her potentially meaner than the other girls. The pretty boy who, because he does ballet, thinks he's cool and that everyone is in love with him. The boy who feels the need to say all the time that he's not gay, he just likes to express himself through dancing!

However, you also saw other faces you hadn't seen before, and that was a pleasant surprise. Dealing with the same types of people became boring.

Hollywood Arts would be a beginning, not only of your artistic career, but of a social life in ballet. I didn't want to ruin your high school experience with drama, toxicity, and cliques.

But unfortunately, you didn't have the best start. Because while you were analyzing and admiring everything around you, your teacher arrived, and it was then that you noticed, everyone was stretched out and dressed appropriately, while you were still standing, wearing jeans, sneakers and a shirt. No stretching.

It was instantaneous. Not only did the teacher's eyes land on you. The entire room was focused on you.

Shit. You flinched.

– You're late. – The teacher says, approaching you, like a predator approaches its prey. A panther, walking elegantly and silently, with total firmness and confidence, about to attack a beautiful and vulnerable little rabbit. The panther knows that the rabbit is already dead. Only a matter of time for death to actually occur, until the panther snatches the prey.

The bunny becomes alert, realizing the danger. Look around. Pay attention to your ears and sharpen your vision.

– The bell hasn't rung yet and class starts in 3 minutes.

The panther stops. Paying attention to the victim's movements, but at no time revealing their position or losing their calm.

– Exactly. 3 minutes and you're like this. – She points to your clothes, with clear disdain. The rabbit flinches, sensing claws wrapping around its fur. – Without the leotard and without stretching. Unprepared. I start my class on time, warm-ups start when the bell rings. So, miss late, you have – the teacher glanced briefly at the clock and turned her eyes to you. – 2 minutes to put on your clothes and stretch, otherwise you will go to detention and will not be able to participate in this class.

The rabbit begins to struggle, panic arising as it sees the possibility of death right in front of it.

– But just to get to the bathroom takes a minute.

The teacher smiles, in a sadistic and amused way.

– Then, I suggest you run.

Crunch! Fur turning scarlet, sharp fangs tearing flesh, paws playing with the limp, lifeless body.

You took off. Hearing giggles and one last image of the teacher's smile

The predator was sated. For now.

You admitted it. You've never stretched so quickly and inefficiently, nor were you so frivolous when adjusting your tights.

But, it was what you had to offer at that moment.

– Miss late! You have exceeded your time of 2 minutes, but as I am in a good mood I will let it pass. Let it serve as a warning to everyone. Be prepared BEFORE class starts. Otherwise, well, you don't want to find out. Now, don't just stand there, join the warm-up!

And you fumbled a little out of pure nervousness, and heard some giggling around, but after a few minutes, you were already in your element.

The warm-up was brutal.

Yes, of course, you already had years of ballet, but still, the teacher seemed to want you to kill yourself in the warm-up. Because it lasted 40 minutes.

To you, it felt like two hours.

Damn, who warms up for 40 minutes? Well, apparently, your new teacher.

When the warm-up, which lasts longer and is heavier than you're used to, finally ends, you're sweating profusely and out of breath. Some were in the same state as you, others were worse, and a group of girls were in better shape, they were sweaty and out of breath, but still, visibly more composed.

The teacher waited in silence for a few moments. Just analyzing all the students.

The teacher approaches the group of 5 who were sitting on the floor, taking in lots of air, barely avoiding getting sick. Some were coughing.

– Pathetic. – She said, her lips lifting in disgust and disdain. – What would your names be?

The group fumbled among themselves, saying full names, others just trying and failing in between, preferring to breathe. One boy almost threw up.

The teacher put her hands in the air and waved them. Exasperated.

– Stop, stop, stop. Are you by any chance animals? Don't know how to speak one at a time? – she sighs. – What were you thinking when they accepted you? Hmph… Disgusting…

– Why does every ballet teacher have to be mean? – a girl next to you commented quietly. You laughed quietly, bitterly, as you watched the teacher insult the poor young teens on the floor.

– It must be something they need to have on their resume. “Expert in torturing teenagers.” – You responded in an equally silent tone.

– Also, didn’t she have a vote in the admission of students? Why does she complain about the school's admissions system if she is part of it?

You shrugged.

– Some evil plan to destroy our self-esteem?

The girl quickly turned to you, a small smile on her face and an outstretched hand, as subtle as she could without drawing the teacher's attention.

– I'm Daisy.

You introduced yourself.

And in mutual and silent agreement, they turned to the teacher. You feared what would happen if the teacher caught the students talking.

Your attention returned to the scene and you only heard the last two names of the group. All red, from shame or exhaustion, you didn't know. The teacher didn't answer anything, just left them on the floor, recovering, and started walking around the room, quickly passing in front of each student.

– You are… Pathetic. Some more than others. But – she made a show of sighing loudly. – As you were accepted, I will make you true artists, dancers. You must breathe ballet, move with elegance and dexterity at all times, and face the world, the stage without fear. The classes will be difficult, long and will demand determination and strength from each person. And I will not hesitate to take punitive action against those who are not taking this seriously. Because, as your teacher, your performance in the future will reflect on my image. Therefore, now they will imitate me. I'm the best, and so will you.

The teacher pauses, and you can hear the tension in the air, the nervousness and everyone shifting in their seats, anxious.

– Am I understood?

Several voices sounded throughout the room, including yours. All saying yes. The teacher smiled.

– Good. Now, let's start the class.

You swallowed hard, already feeling tired, but still, strangely excited. It would be a challenge, and you loved difficult things.

After painful and sadistic hours (yes, hours!), the class was finally released for lunch, and then afternoon classes.

The teacher informed them that the ballet class had an exclusive bathroom and that if they wanted (but, from the disgusted way she sounded, it seemed more like a requirement) they could take a shower there.

You perked up when you heard this, and most of the students did too. It would be horrible to have to continue at school with all that crust of sweat on your body.

So, after the teacher left, everyone packed their things and went to either take a shower or have lunch.

You were more than ready to head to the bathroom and shower. You were tired, but the sweat on your body bothered you more than fatigue.

– Hey, are you going to eat or take a shower first?

You looked to the side. The girl you talked to after the warm-up. Was it Daphne? Daniela? Delilah? No, that was ridiculous. It was something with D.

– Im going to the shower. I couldn't eat something feeling dirty.

– You sure? As we are being released early, the queue is non-existent to buy… Anything.

– I'm sure. – You smiled, slightly touched by the girl’s kindness. She waved and said goodbye to you, leaving for lunch.

After a long and well-deserved shower, you head to the cafeteria where the food was. Heavens, how hungry you were!

Arriving in the area, you began looking for Cat and Beck. Not surprisingly, you found Beck first. Surrounded by people, girls and boys.

You decide to try to get past the crowd and rescue Beck, who now seems overwhelmed.

You squeeze between people, making your way through elbows and curses, until you reach the center, feeling several hateful looks on you.

Beck's face lights up when he sees you, and he calls your name, approaching you.

– Hey, what are you doing? – he asks, ignoring the entire crowd around him, and you can feel the commotion that this generates. You smile, focusing on nothing more than the boy in front of you.

– Trying to save you from this crowd by inviting you to lunch with me and Cat.

– Oh, please! I would love to.

You swear something happened around you. People cursed him, complained, maybe even hit you, but your brain melted a little when you saw Oliver's smile. A captivating, happy, friendly expression. It seemed like the air around him shimmered and exuded something almost surreal.

What brought you back to reality was a tap on your shoulder.

– So, where are you sitting? – Beck asked and then you realized, the crowd had dissipated and only the pretty boy was by your side.

– Uh, actually, I haven't chosen the table, nor have I found Cat yet. – You then start looking for the redhead. The brunette at his side.

– Ah, I see… Who is Cat? Your pet? Are animals even allowed at school?

You laugh.

– No, no. She's a girl I met today, in drama class, while you were being surrounded by… Everyone…

Beck sighed and nodded in a more crestfallen manner. You stop looking around for a moment, to fix your eyes on him.

– Does this happen a lot? You're famous and I'm the only one who didn't notice?

– No, I'm not famous, at least not yet. I'm just pretty. – He shrugs lightly, as if it weren't a big deal. And you stop walking, and let out a disbelieving laugh. This time, his lips move to form a cocky smile.

– What? Are you going to say i'm not? – he prods you, and you fumble over your words, not wanting to deny it, but certainly not wanting to confirm it either. However, to your relief, he just laughs at your reaction and continues talking. – People have always approached me because of my – he raises his hands to gesture quotation marks with his fingers. - "exotic beauty". Eventually, I just got used to it.

You observe the boy next to you. Really analyzes him.

He didn't seem like the kind of boy who was an asshole, who thought he was better than everyone else, who believed he had everyone at his feet, when he really didn't.

Beck just seemed aware of the reality he found himself in. After all, he was handsome. Short but silky hair, great style of clothing that sold the cool kid look. If you had to guess, he seemed like a relaxed but extremely cunning type of boy. The guy who smiled at everyone, but had a mouth that dripped with venom.

You had your thoughts interrupted by a high-pitched female voice calling your name. Cat. He took one last look at Beck, who maintained a relaxed posture and the remains of a smile.

Well, you deduced, only time will show Oliver's true face, whatever it may be.

– Cat! I was looking for you! – you approached the redhead. She lit up.

– And, did you find me?

– Apparently, you found me. – When saying this, the redhead makes a sad expression.

– Oh, wow, what a shame. – You frowned, not understanding the line of reasoning, but before you could say anything, Cat was already addressing Beck. – Hi, I'm Cat. – she introduced herself, waving energetically.

Beck laughed, like you would laugh at something cute a puppy did, and waved back, but without the redhead's excessive enthusiasm.

You guys go look for a table. And when they find it, they realize they had nothing to eat. Luckily there was a food truck nearby, and everyone ordered something.

At the table, everyone talked about themselves. You revealed that although it inspired you, you never saw the film Black Swan. Cat talked about her love for purple giraffes and her brother. You were worried at that part, you didn't know if the small girl was joking or not.

Beck talked about how he moved from Canada with his parents to Los Angeles just for school, and talked excitedly about how he liked cars and was looking forward to getting his own.

When they heard sobs around them, that's when they left the bubble they were in.

– You're a bitch!

A blonde girl, green eyes, swollen and moist. She was the one who jumped out of her chair and screamed. Despite her anguished expression, she looked firmly at the table in front of her, and the person who was sitting there.

You recognized who it was from your theater class. She had a gothic style. Eyeliner, black nails, combat boots and dark clothes.

The green-eyed goth girl, you noticed, raised her eyebrow and took her eyes in a deliberate and prolonged manner to the bare legs of the girl in front of her.

– I'm not the one with the scraped knees.

She smiled cruelly, and amidst the deadly silence, a few muffled giggles could be heard.

The blonde girl choked. Tries to justify herself, you think she had says about a skateboard, but was unsuccessful. Then she resignes herself to letting out a sob and running away.

The goth turned her smile into a frown, and looked around, the many eyes in her direction. She faced everyone and with a loud, rude and direct voice, she shouted.

– What are you looking at? – and everyone went back to doing what they did before. Well, you asume that everyone had done it, you didn't bother to check. You just kept your attention on the girl. Curious. You wanted to know what had happened. And how she had made someone cry on the first day of school.

You hated this type of attitude, behavior, personality. You might not be the kindest girl in the world, but you certainly weren't cruel. Even when you felt the urge to be.

It was a shame that such a beautiful girl, with brown hair and green eyes, could be so horrible.

You assumed that beauty would spoil a person. You just hoped Beck wouldn't turn out to be that kind of person. Then, you finally returned your gaze to the table, and discovered that you weren't the only one who remained looking at her. The pretty boy also had his sights set on the table that only had one mean girl on it.

– She's mean. – Cat spoke up, breaking the silence as well as Beck's admiration and thoughts.

– She is. – Beck agrees, nonchalant.

You remain silent, taking one last look in the girl's direction.

It doesn't take long before the bell rings. You say goodbye to them both and head towards classes in the afternoon. The part of your curriculum is completely normal and, after theater and ballet classes, terribly boring.

Chemistry, geography and math classes stretched out, as if they had no end, like a rubber band that when it thought it was about to break, it stretched a little more. However, it didn't matter anymore, you were finally free to go home.

You were exhausted, physically, mentally and spiritually. Names of teachers, subjects, exercises, classmates piling up and colliding in your brain. You had absolutely no energy for anything.

Unfortunately for you, however, when you open the door to your house, you come across your mother, waiting, sitting in a chair, almost jumping with excitement. The true image of a puppy anxiously waiting for its owner.

Your heart is heavy, and your body and soul scream with frustration. You just wanted your bed. But, your mother sees you and you simply accept that you would have to stay awake for a few more moments.

Your mother spews questions one after another at you.

"How it was?"

“Have you made friends yet?”

“Are all teachers weird?”

“Is there anyone famous?”

“Did they treat you well?”

"Are you well?"

"Are you hungry? I made dinner!”

While eating, you told your mother everything, it didn't take long for you to get excited too, even though you were tired.

You leave out some details, like teachers and some bad people, but otherwise, you confess everything. The many beautiful people, with a few exceptions, the strange talents and habits you noticed, strange and normal teachers.

However, sleepiness and tiredness manifested itself through yawning and heavy eyes. Your mother, realizing this, immediately sends you up to your room to get some sleep.

After a relaxing shower, you lay down on your bed, comfortable under the blankets.

Ah, finally.

Chapter 2

[demented-tours]

hello!

i have been a fan of your works since almost a decade and it is safe to say that you’re one of my favourite authors to ever exist. i found your works through a03, specifically through the absolutely incredible dynamic of neji and kiba.

just wanted to come on here and say how much i adore all your works. especially the way you have written sai and captured his personality and autism so well, it holds such a special place in my heart (as do literally every character you have written)

i also wanted ask if there’s anything going to be added to the monoshizukanohi universe. it is beautiful and i am but ravenous for more. even if there is nothing planned, i have been and will continue to cherish the works you have put out there.

i have commented a few times on your works and also try to keep up on instagram but i feel too shy to actually come out here and say all this, hence the anon.

thank you so much for your service! (truly, and for free?! in this economy??? truly blessed)

- L

Well, hello there, Anon!

First off: thank you so much for sharing this with me. Notes like this remind me of why I do what I do, and that keeps me going through the chaos. All the virtual baked goods of your choice and many hugs, (if that's your thing; if not, then enthusiastic happy dances)!

Second: apologies for the small delay in responding; I've been under the weather. Also, if I've not responded to you over on A03, please bear with me, lol. I tend to do responses in batches. Sometimes interaction is difficult for me (neurospicy for the win).

NOW THEN! The good stuff.

Oh man, I love what you love! Writing Neji is just... so delightful. And Kiba's just the perfect foil for so many of my uptight/oblivious characters (ah, Gaara; you never saw him coming... until you definitely did, HA). And oh, Sai and Tenzou! I had no idea how cathartic that story was for me until the final page. I'm so glad you enjoyed those!

As for new Mono stories... Actually, yes. There is one in progress. It's another Origins story, like LET FREEDOM BLEED was. They're sort of the backstory/underpinning stories that star characters referenced and interwoven into what already exists. Keep in mind, I started writing Mono in 2008 (dear lord; where did the time go?); wrote pretty steady until 2014 or so; took a few years of unintentional break; came back to finish LESSONS IN LIVING; and then, well... The characters came knocking, again. I write Mono as a sort of... therapy, if you will, for myself. There's a freedom in writing fanfiction that just hits differently than the books/stories/etc. I write for paid publication. I don't think I knew I was doing that (the therapy thing) when I started, but I can definitely see it now, so this latest story is sort of... eh, a deliberate attempt? Or, like, I know it's helping me work shit out, if that makes sense? It doesn't impact the story, exactly; it's more just I know WHY I'm choosing to do this to myself, lol, lol.

I ramble. I do that. Point being: I AM working on something. I don't mind sharing that it's Itachi's story. It's called THE BELOVED MARTYR, and it is the longest thing I have literally ever written, and it's not done. Right now it's sitting at (are you sitting down?) roughly 900 pages, or 370,500 words. It spans Itachi's entire life (he's about 40 or so in current Mono canon) - so we see him as a boy, we see it when Sasuke is born, family, growing up, and just the sheer, unadulterated mayhem that is his existence. It has a cast of about 50 original characters (there's going to be an index of who's-who whenever this thing gets posted) plus all the usual Mono boys. It's basically my version of fandom canon--how the Uchiha family is old, powerful, and believes itself to be the shepherds of a new order under their control, but translated into the Mono world reality. Oligarchy, old Russian power, older Japanese power, the movers and shakers and often-criminal intrigue that affect global change and disaster... And in the heart of it all, one man who wants to stop the violence and heal himself and those he loves. One of my greatest loves in fandom is figuring out how canon could translate into my version of reality, and this one... considering Itachi's arch... is enormous and sad and lovely and aching all in one. I started writing it when my mother was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer (she's in recovery), and, well... It's also MY healing journey, in a way, lol--not just from that, but in life.

Grand themes, I grant you, but there's also humor and OH SO MUCH kink and violence and that nitty-gritty-teeth-clench thing that I loved about Rhythm & Bruise. We also get Nagato's backstory (my version of him), and yep, we get to see how Sasuke and Naruto meet and fall in love. People have been asking for that for years, and I've never really been drawn to write it, but it's a part of this because Sasuke is such a huge part of Itachi's life and purpose.

SO. Yeah. Um... in progress. I don't post things until they're done--I learned that lesson with LESSONS IN LIVING. I'm working on this in and around other novels and stories, not to mention the day job, which is ALSO writing, among other things, so it might be a while, yet. Occasionally, I post on this Tumblr (which is basically the only social media I use, these days, as i HATE Twitter/X or whatever and Instagram isn't made for words, really, etc.), so if you feel like hanging out, please do!

This is probably more than you bargained for with your lovely ask, but hopefully that's not a bad thing!

Regardless, I am delighted that you enjoy the stories, and I thank you so much for letting me know you're here.

All good things to you and yours, <3Dee

[buggyboba]

Hi! I just wanted to tell you that your writing is amazing! Absolutelty no idea why there are so little likes and reposts. But please keep going! I'm a huge fan ❤

Especially I'm looking forward to your kinktober series with 10/14 Doctor and particulary this thing:

✦ October 27th | Honeymoon

● The Fourteenth Doctor x Reader

↳ ○ more domestic bliss, He takes you to a beautiful resort planet, and the night is perfect.

And more 10/14 Doctor in general! I'll be waiting for anything with him, you're just amazing!

Hi! Hello! Oh my god thank you so much <3! I dunno why the engagement isn't as large as I thought it would be. Some of the ones I wrote I was like "This is going to feed the girlies, gonna do those bigboy numbers," and they sure did not. Don’t get me wrong I am ecstatic any time anyone likes or reblogs anything of mine, because to me they liked it so much they wanted to share it with their friends, and that makes me so happy. I know everyone says write for yourself, and I do for the most part, but I also like seeing that other people like it too, I want to yap and scream and yell about what's happening, what people liked, what they want more of.  I do have a few theories on why, the main one is I am just a relatively new writer in the fandom scene (Like I think I released the first chapter of Surrender Your Mind in April or May, and up until very recently (the beginning of October) I have been focused on one main pairing, which was Missy x Reader, and from what I gather that’s not as big as Master x Reader, or Doctor x Reader, or canon pairings, and that’s okay. I actually was joking with my roommate who is a big Doctor Who fan, that I didn’t want to write strictly Missy x Reader for Kinktober, and wouldn’t it be funny if since I’ve been writing for the Master wouldn’t it be a fun little thing to write The Doctor too? He is the one that suggested River x Doctor and my little gremlin brain was like “But also Thoschei”  Turns out The 10/14 ones are the ones who have been doing the numbers, and even got me shouted out on a rec blog which was so thrilling for me. It's so wild to me in the best possible way, I love that everyone likes them so much! The actual thrill I get when I wake up to 10+ notes is so good, it starts my mornings right. It makes me do a little happy dance, I love comments too, at the beginning I wasn’t good at replying because I didn’t know fanfiction etiquette, still not sure about it, but I’ve started to talk back! I forget sometimes because I have a wild sleep schedule, and will wake up for like ten minutes, see I have notifications, and be like “Aw fuck yeah, I’ll reply later.” Spoiler alert I have ADHD so I know I mean well by saying that, but my brain says ‘out of sight out of mind’ and I am very sorry about that in general.  For Kinktober I also branched out to do some other canon characters, the Kate girlies showed up, and The Master (Simm & Dhawan!Master) lovers showed up and I love that so much! I’ve also been getting engagement with requests, which makes me so happy that people like my writing so much that they trust me with their ideas and concepts, to see my take on it.  I think doing kinktober, while it has been stressful because oh boy I was not actually ready to take on such a challenge, it’s been so good because I’ve had a lot of growth, found some new characters I really like, and have garnered a bigger reach, which means more people will get to see what wild things I write, and I can share more with people. Which at the end of the day, it’s just me, my laptop, my stories, and everyone who reads them. I want to continue sharing, and I will. I’m going to end up bleeding over some because trying to sit down and write is so hard for me sometimes. I will finish the majority of the ‘update’ list, the two trick-or-treat ones, and then all the requests I have (Shameless plug, they are still open, but I’m only going to take about 2 more), and then take a short break. I still have a Missy x Master x Reader one that I have been trying to write since last month. Surrender Your Mind is going to be 3 more chapters, so it’s 6 chapters altogether, but I want to go back and now that I’ve found my ground, I want to edit and redo some things.  But yeah, sorry for derailing there, I had a lot to say apparently. In conclusion, Thank you to you, and everyone else who enjoys my stuff, it is encouraging to get messages like this, comments, likes, and reblogs, because it tells me there are many more people out there who like what I do, and makes me want to keep doing it.  <3

[catbunblue302]

Wrote all this out for a Youtube comment and then realized that Tumblr would probably like it too.

"I really don't understand why this is such a controversial topic. Chatbots shouldn't exist. Full stop. There is no nuance to this because there is absolutely no way to proceed from here that makes the use of AI chatbots ethical.

I'll start with the most relevant point to the issue. People are going to get hurt using them. The most likely candidates for this is children and the mentally ill. Yes, as a mentally stable, mature human being, you are fully aware that the bot is not human. But it reacts like one. The human brain anthropomorphizes things. That's just what it does. As an example, look up some of the history around people filming with Muppets. Even though people can see the "wizard behind the curtain" it is very easy to forget that fact and slip into the mentality of "the thing I am talking to is real. It has real human emotions and opinions. I can form a bond with this thing." I can only imagine how much easier it is to fall into that mindset if you don't have a good support system around you, especially when the set-up of chatbots is made to look so similar to any other DM system.

I've seen people comparing this issue to violent video games or stuff like D&D when that could not be any further from the truth. Video games try to be immersive but they don't try to be real. There are pop ups, menu screens, video game logic. At no point is the character looking directly at you and trying to convince you that they're real. There are set dialogue prompts. You can't say whatever you want and have the characters respond like real living people. D&D is always played in a group. There are people there with you to monitor you and ensure that you're not falling into delusion. There is a constant connection to reality though the physical act of rolling the dice and going over your character sheet. And, again, there are REAL people there with you who CAN think and feel and make decisions. Part of the reason why AI chatbots are immoral is because of this. If you roleplay with a person, there's an individual there who can monitor you. Who can call it off if they think you're in danger or going too far. And if that person DOESN'T stop you, and instead encourages you? We can hold them accountable for your death. By the very nature of AI, there is no one to hold accountable.

I am all for having a safe place to vent your emotions, for being able to explore dark topics in a controlled manner, but there is a reason why most dangerous activities have a buddy system built in. There is a reason why you need a valid ID to buy alcohol. There is a reason why bleach doesn't come with a straw. Just because you don't need the handrails, doesn't mean we should stop building them because you think they ruin the experience of walking up stairs.

Even putting aside the fact that these machines will kill people and HAVE, there is still no moral way to engage with them. Having chatbots gives companies an excuse not to hire people for call centers and instead replace them with these garbage hunks of code. A single prompt from an AI uses tons of water to cool the computers powering them, along with using massive amounts of fossil fuel powered energy, causing ever more pollution. Using an AI chatbot is no different than engaging in fast fashion or buying all new holiday decorations every year. Don't buy things that will go straight to a landfill. Don't engage in helping to destroy the planet when there are viable alternatives such as talking to a real person. Or just using your goddamn imagination like people have been doing since the dawn of time.

AI chatbots work by scraping the data from fanfiction, many of which the authors did not consent to having their works used in this way. This has been an issue long before AI, but people tend to look at artists as content mills. As dancing monkeys for their own personal amusement. Because of today's culture of constant stimulation on demand, if we stop dancing for even one moment, our audience will move over to the We Kill Dancing Monkeys And Puppet Their Frankenstein-Style Corpse On A String company. I'd have to look into it, but I can only imagine commission rates for writers have plummeted with the advent of AI because now people can just get it for free. I don't even want to think about how decimated the actual roleplay community is.

And if you engage with or support AI even while knowing all this, that it's potentially dangerous and destroying the environment and actively harming people's livelihoods, then yes, I do believe you are fundamentally a bad person. If you've used AI in the past but hadn't considered or known about some of my talking points, that's fine. Now you do. Now stop and make better informed choices. For any AI supporters who still believe that they are in the right or that they're not harming anyone: honestly, just get away from me. I don't want to talk to you. I barely even want to exist in the same world as you."

[oceanfruits-blog]

Hey! So this is actually decades late, but I’ve decided to get back into it. When I was writing The Cemetery Dance (a byler fanfiction I started forever ago) I moved away and could not find the time anymore, but I want to continue it. Here’s something I wrote for the next chapter for anyone interested. Thank you!

****

“Still hasn’t said much to you?” Lucas asked.

Mike sighed. “No, not really.”

The house was quiet; night had started hours ago. Mike couldn’t sleep; it was rare for him to find a time when his body would relax. Lucas had a blanket draped over his shoulders, curled into the corner of the couch, looking much smaller than he was.

“Won’t talk to me either.” Pellets of rain hit the window. “I just… it has to be them, right?”

Biting his lip, Mike looked down. “I don’t know. I mean, we haven’t seen him in years. What if something else could have happened? What if—”

“Mike.”

He released a breath. “I know. I just thought it was over.”

“I think we all did. For a second, at least. I mean, when Will left, it felt like everything went quiet; like he had taken all the problems with him. I feel bad saying that.” Lucas’s eyes were cast outside. “He’s going to have to talk eventually; I think he knows that too. Maybe we should just give him more time?”

“It’s been four days. I don’t think we have a lot of it left. If they find us—”

Lucas cut him off. “But they haven’t yet, and that’s what we need to focus on. We can’t start freaking out now.”

Mike huffed, the sound devoid of humor. “I haven’t stopped freaking out. I mean…”

He trailed off, his eyes on the coffee table. It was too tall, and the more Mike looked at it, the more he realized Lucas had most likely placed a kitchen table in the middle of the room. On top of it were a few magazines and unused coasters. In the corner of the table was a piece of notebook paper sticking out from under a book titled Washing Machines and the Wars They Cause. The handwriting was familiar, and Mike found himself grabbing it.

“What?” Lucas shifted closer to him.

“Is this yours?” Mike asked. Lucas took the piece of paper, squinting down at it.

“No, I’ve never seen this before.” His eyes moved over it quickly. “What the…”

Mike took it back. The writing was small, but the words “orange lights” were repeated over and over on both sides of the paper. The penmanship started off neat but progressed in an almost erratic way, becoming unreadable by the end.

“Will used to talk about the colors down there. Do you remember that?” Lucas’s voice sounded airy, tipping toward unsettled. “It was one of the only things he’d really say—that everything was cool-tinted. He talked about seeing white lights… would wake up from nightmares screaming about them.”

Mike gripped the paper tighter. “I remember. He always acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned it. Do you think this…”

“I mean, you go through what he went through; there’s no way you aren’t messed up.” Lucas ran a hand over his face. “If he didn’t talk when we were eleven, he’s definitely not going to say anything now.”

Mike placed the paper down. “That’s not an option.”

[nerdieforpedro]

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Chapter Two: Proper Accommodations

Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter Series / AO3 Link

Word Count: approx 4.7k

Summary: Maya arrives to Hawaii in Dieter's private jet. Turns out, the man's got a villa and would like her there with him and his goat. A car ride and some ridiculous banter ensue. Things are great until the OJ.

Warnings: Bad jokes, candy, even worse nicknames, Dieter being himself, self-doubt, self-esteem issues, cursing, mild body worship, food (it's a Nerdie expectation at this point), jealousy, brief mention of drug use, the nicknames worsen and include food, slander against Oscar Issac, accidental drug use, we got fluff people!

Notes: I started this series awhile ago and wrote this chapter last month. Then I fell face first into Frankie and hadn't looked back until the king trash panda himself took up residence in my brain. So we're back and I'm working on future chapters. The jokes continue to be bad, I'm not a comedian - I'd be very broke. I just enjoy two people being idiots with each other. It's a joy.

After disembarking and gathering her belongings, Maya thanked Dieter immensely for basically giving her a ride to Hawaii and if he wanted to hang out later that would be great. She needed to be away from him, the dancing was too much, he was drawing her in. Dinner could be later this week, it didn’t need to be tonight, she still needed to check in at the hotel.

Bravo leaned in for a hug and Maya returned the squeeze, pressing their bodies together. He was simultaneously firmer than she thought and also softer around the belly. His hands started roaming a little too low down her back towards butt and they gave a little squeeze. Maya should have swatted him away or told him no, but she decided to run her hands down his back as well and give him a little grab too. Turns out that Sugar lips was also quite firm as well, he jumped a little bit giggling.

 “I gotta say Kit Kat. This has been a lot of fun and I only drank while we did this whole thing, This is new.” Dieter stated triumphantly like he just got first place at something.

 Maya shrugged her shoulders and grinned, “Well Sugar lips, it turns out there's a lot of ways to have fun that maybe don't always include drugs sometimes.”

“Hey, your brother's wedding is on which island?” Dieter asked. His assistant who had been back trying to chat up the flight attendants a little bit got an inkling that there was something a little suspect going on, so he went over and gently reminded Dieter about his schedule including popping in for press at a golf tournament. Bravo wasn’t really feeling it, but he had already agreed as part of a contract.

Maya shook her head and told him, “You don’t have to feel pressured to do dinner right now. It’s an open invitation. You have very important stuff to handle, Dieter.” Her smile was weak, as much as she wanted to stay with him, she needed to leave this fever dream of an evening here. On to wedding business. She took a step back and he released her, Dieter disliked this greatly and his assistant for bringing up work shit. That can wait later.

 “Oh no Kit Kat you're not getting out of this one.” Dieter beamed and threw an arm around her shoulder, pressing his hip to hers, so soft and warm. “You’re definitely telling me where you're staying and I'm definitely coming there and if I don't like where you stay, we're gonna stay somewhere else.” He decided. His assistant’s face went pale as Brave shot him a stern look, ‘say something I dare you.’

 Maya chuckled and poked Bravo’s cheek, “What do you mean we? I'm booked into the same place with all the family. I don’t even know where you’re staying.” His assistant was furiously texting, he knew he had more work to do and how Dieter was fully capable of making his job a living hell if he didn’t get his way. She had mentioned that the wedding was taking place on Oahu but Dieter had been too busy watching her eat to listen.

 “Well, I gotta see this place, see if it's good enough for more Uno games and whatever else we come up with. It also needs to be pet friendly because Daisy is coming with me to visit.” The goat sauntered over to the pair and let out a ‘baah’ They both chuckled in unison. Maya went to protest again but he stopped her, “Nah you lost the game Toblerone. You call me sugar lips first of all, and second, show me the address.” He held his hand out, presumably for her phone. Maya gave him her palm and he used his middle finger to stroke her palm, making her draw her hand back with a squeal. She sighed and pulled out her phone, showing Dieter her accommodations which she felt were pretty nice it was like on the 6th floor of one of the Hilton hotels right off the beach on Waikiki island Dieter took one look scoffed and grabbed his nonexistent pearls and said, “No dice, this place is bullshit. Maya you’re not staying there. I'm not staying there. Toblerone, you’re gonna come with me to my villa.”

To this Maya put her hands on her hips which got Dieter a little a little hot under the robe which he was more than fine with.  Maya was disturbed at what he was saying, she thought it was a pretty nice hotel but more than that who does he think he is trying to tell her where to stay.

“Now Dieter-”

 “It’s sugar lips, “ He interrupted, she clicked her tongue and leaned forward where he leaned back.

 “Now I know, you are not trying to tell me where I should go, and where I should stay are you?” The robe-clad man shook his head and then put his hands up. “I am a grown woman.”

 Dieter tried to explain himself, “I'm not saying that it’s not a decent hotel. I'm just saying you could stay in a better place with me. We discussed decadence earlier, right?”

 She crossed her arms against her chest, “And what makes you think that I want to stay in a hotel with you Dieter Bravo?” He was making this a lot harder than it needed to be. Just let me go. He doesn’t want me, he just wants the feeling I give him, the fun. I’m not just for anyone’s use.

 “Again, it's sugar lips and we were not having so much fun on the plane. Like you're just gonna give this fun up just cause it's your brother's wedding. I mean because you know destination weddings already suck why not have why not have a little fun you know?”

 “And what type of fun are you talking about Dieter because I just met you and Uno was fun and I am extremely grateful for the free ride but whatever villa you stay in, if I thought I couldn't afford the jet ride I am damn sure not going to be able to afford a villa.” Maya now threw her hands up. This man was impossible.

 “Look, I didn't say you had to pay for it. I just said you had to stay with me and we need to get you some better wedding clothes anyway.” Bravo told her, he was re-thinking the jab about her wedding clothes. He was sure she probably looked pretty in them, but she deserved a lot more luggage than what she had.

 “I'm not trying to hear about fashion choices from a man who walks around in pajamas and a robe sir. You haven't even looked at my suitcase, so how do you know that my clothes are not appropriate for a wedding?” Dieter’s assistant looked up from his phone. Usually, his boss was much smoother than this. What about this woman made him so rattled? No matter, the assistant now had to inform the personal chef to stock and cook for two people instead of just Dieter.

 “Yeah, I got a sixth sense about these things Kit Kat just trust me on this. Now you will like the villa. It's got like 6 rooms, so we don't even have to stay in the same room. We'll just play Uno, drink, maybe I can get you to try some other stuff and we'll just have fun. Plus, we have to eat dinner.” Bravo slowly approached Maya, placing his hands on her hips and leaving her a kiss on her forehead. Kit Kat closed her eyes. So many red flags, she should leave, thank him and leave, maybe get his number. He’ll forget to call. It would be fine. And yet…

“We'll go to and from your brother's wedding, maybe you'll even let me come along to the wedding?” She shook her head, knowing that this was a horrible idea. But you only live once, right?

 “I haven't been to a wedding before, apparently I was told by my friends I couldn't come to their weddings.” He finally finished. She opened her eyes and looked at his sad brown ones. At some point Dieter had removed his sunglasses. His eyes were longing for her to answer him.

 “Now why did your friends tell you not to come to their weddings?” Maya asked, her hand reached up and ruffled his hair, he leaned in the direction of her hand.

Dieter beamed, “I'm just so much fun you know, and I just try bring joy to wherever I go.” He couldn't keep a straight face while talking. Maya threw her head back and howled.

“I bet you do bring joy, don't you?  Oh Lord Dieter,” Toblerone giggled and kissed his cheek.  “Fine, I will stay with you at your villa. I am staying in a separate room. We just have to make sure I'm on time for the different dress rehearsals and family events. Ok?” Her hand fell to his cheek, her thumb traced his nose, she felt his dimples form as he smiled. Dieter put both of his considerable hands over her hips and squeezed, he would never get tired of doing that.

 “I promise Kit Kat you won't regret it. I promise it'll be the best week ever. We'll have so much fun, so much joy. Maybe you won’t wanna leave.” Dieter dipped his chin to maximize his mischievous eye effect. It gave her a tingle up her spine.

 Maya leaned her forehead on his shoulder, “I don't know if I should trust you when you say fun and joy like that because your voice keeps cracking.”

The pair headed over to a car that was scheduled to take Dieter to his beachside villa that thankfully was only about 15 minutes away from the wedding venue where most of the events they’d be going to be taking place. It was much further from the hotel but outside of mandated events with the wedding, she didn’t plan on being at the hotel much now. She went ahead and texted her mom and her brother that she had a few hiccups with her flight, but she still was coming to the weddings and events. She also let them know that she had some different accommodations that she was going to stay at for the week. Her family was a bit concerned but they knew that Maya knew how to take care of herself.

On the car ride over, Dieter had slumped over on her shoulder, nuzzling into her. His hand laid on her thigh. Maya was petting little Daisy that sat in her lap.

 “You're a cute little goat aren't you like your daddy? This is going to be a wild ass week. What have I agreed to? I’ve lost all my good sense Daisy.” She laid her head back on the seat, closing her eyes. Today certainly was something. 

Dieter’s fingers pressed into the flesh of her thigh, he wasn’t quite asleep. He was plotting what to do once he got her to his villa. He was sure that his assistant had picked up to adjust things for her as far as the chef and food storage was concerned. Though playful, Bravo knew that Maya was still weary of him. That was fine, Dieter was a master at getting into people’s personal space and between boundaries they had set up for themselves. He was careful not to move his head, he wanted to savor the movement. She had been set to leave ten minutes ago. He had a small victory in that already. He would need to keep the momentum going. His hand relaxed and circled down to her knee, a grin formed on his face. 

The driver hit a pothole making the car bounce roughly and apologized. The actor had no issue with this, Maya slid against the car door, diagonal with one leg extended that Daisy slid down onto, not hard as she shook off the impact. Dieter’s head landed on Maya’s thigh where his hand had been, he snaked an arm under her leg pretending that he was more shaken then he was. The driver slowed down and only sped back up when he didn’t see anymore.

“Kit Kat! You alright? I got you.” He couldn’t help but smile as Maya rubbed the back of her head.

“I’m okay, I think. Bumped my head.” It took a moment to look down, she saw Daisy on the car floor and Dieter using her thigh as a pillow, feeling something under her leg that she identified as his arm. “Why would you grab…? Does anything you do make sense De-” She paused, remembering their bet. “Never mind.”

“You could just say it, you know. It’s just two words, Toblerone. Come on…” The dimpled man grinned rolling on his side, he was face to face with her stomach. It appeared very soft and jiggly. “I’ll poke you if you don’t.” It wasn’t a threat, he’d likely poke her belly even if she did call him his nickname. It was calling him.

“You’re infuriating. I get why you’re not at weddings, Sugar Lips” Maya lowered her voice at his nickname and straightened herself up in the seat as much as she could, Dieter’s arm under her leg was making that a bit difficult. “Seriously Dieter, move your arm. It’s going to go numb under there.” Her hand went to move his arm but he gripped her leg tighter.

“Nuh uh. My arm’s fine but if you want me to move I will.” His dimples were still on full display until his face went into her stomach, shaking his head from side to side. She’s so soft and warm. I think it’s okay not to breathe for a bit. Maya yelped and grabbed Bravo’s shoulders, she pushed him away slightly but she he proved too strong as he held his face in her soft stomach. She ended up just holding him, her palms running across his back.

“Dieter you’re fucking insane.” He didn’t let go. She felt his nose poking her deeply. No one had ever dove into her belly, laid on it sure, but not dove in and held on like this. She wasn’t sure what exactly he needed from her, but until they reached the villa, the only sounds were from Daisy and her occasional ‘baah’s’ and the wheels on the dirt road. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, the opposite actually, which made Maya even more unsure of what was going on.

The villa in question was at the top of a hill behind a gate. The driver entered a code that was provided to him via text from Dieter’s assistant and pulled up the long driveway to the front door. The door itself was made from a beautiful dark oak and the shingles on the roof were a red clay color. The house itself was two levels with glass walls facing the side of the house toward the beach. The sun was almost finished setting by the time they reached it. The back of the house away from the beach was an eggshell white. It was beautiful and modern, not that Maya knew what she was expecting. The driver took all her and Dieter’s bags out of the car and placed them in the foyer of the house.

“Dieter, you have to get off now. We’re here.” Maya stated softly, her hand ran through his curls. She cursed herself for doing it, but they were so silky dancing across her fingers. Bravo groaned and pulled his head back and laid on her thigh once again. 

“Promise you’ll let me lay on you again and then I’ll move.” He peered up at her, she sighed. 

“Let’s see how dinner goes.”

“You drive a hard bargain Kit Kat. Fine, but!” He lifted a finger and placed it on her chin. “If you let me, you can play with my hair again.” Scoffing, Maya used the distraction to slide out of the car. Brave puffed out his cheeks laying across the backseat of the limo. Daisy licked his cheek before hopping out of the car, following the woman. “Daisy! You’ve turned on me! What is wrong with everyone?!” He fussed, his assistant snorted and helped the driver move the bags from the foyer to the bedrooms. Maya asked which room she would be staying, the assistant mentioned there were six rooms plus Dieter’s study. She snickered at the word study, she couldn’t picture him being able to focus on anything that didn’t involve his own fun for longer than five minutes. 

Maya picked the room that was two rooms down from the master bedroom which she assumed to be Dieter’s. It was still much bigger than the hotel room she would have been trapped in for the week. Complete with a king size bed, walk in closet, 80-inch flat screen TV, numerous outlets for devices to be plugged in, a small desk area was present, the bathroom was huge with two sinks, a walk in shower that had a bench, removable shower head and a tub for a nice even soak; it was perfect.

Bravo had finished his rant and entered the villa, he checked with the chef in the kitchen and told him to make pizza. Ham and mushrooms but no pineapple. His assistant checked in with him before heading out for the night, informed Dieter which room his guest was in and that he would come to pick him up at noon tomorrow to get him ready for the first part of the golf event later that afternoon. Rolling his eyes, the actor agreed and asked if Maya had the driver’s number so he could take her to any wedding events she would need to go to. The assistant nodded and informed him that he also gave her the back up driver’s number in case Dieter was using his primary driver. Bravo was pleased with this and threw his robe on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island. 

Maya came down the winding stairs and waved to Dieter and his assistant. She smelled the pizza that was baking in the oven and beamed, “Pizza! I actually haven’t had any for a while.” She had on a pair of dusty rose pink ballet slippers, she had changed into a plain light blue t-shirt with gray shorts.  She saw that Bravo’s assistant was heading toward the door, and she tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks Zack for helping me get set up. I’ll try and keep out of the way.”

Zack the assistant blinked, he actually had not heard his name for a bit. His body had tensed but he calmed. “It’s no problem Ms. Maya, let me know if you need anything. He does need to be at least up and showered by noon though.” The woman nodded and his assistant left, she made sure to set an alarm on her phone for 11 in the morning just in case. Bravo was deeply disturbed. First of all, that was his name? He was sure it was Peter, or Lou, or Aspen or something. Secondly, Why did she need to touch him? Third and most important, when did they have time to talk? He wasn’t in the car that long. Shit maybe I was, because I hit a little snow on the part of the seat Kit Kat had been sitting on. I remember mellowing out for a bit, but only a bit. Maybe. His arms snaked around Maya’s wide waist as his chin rested on her shoulder, he shot the young man the same look he did when they were outside the car at the airport, one of pure annoyance. Maya shook her head as Zack left and the chef signaled that the pizza was finished. 

“Sugar lips, we were going to have dinner right?” She gently pulled Dieter’s hands off her waist and turned around to face him. “Come on, let’s eat. Don’t pout.” Her smile remained just as wide, sniffing the pizza that the chef was cutting up. He warned that it was still hot of course and not to eat it quite yet. Nodding, Maya reached in the cabinet and grabbed a glass, pouring herself some orange juice. Dieter watched her reach while leaning on the counter but looked away as the chef let him know that there was more food in the fridge and he was leaving for the night. Dieter told him goodbye and missed what container the orange juice came out of.

“Yeah we are. What did you talk with…Zack about?” He was in fact still pouting. Maya smirked, setting her glass on the counter. 

“Just making sure that you’re at your event on time tomorrow. Despite me being here, you have obligations Cupcake.” His left eyebrow shot up as his arm snaked around her waist again. She didn’t shirk away from his touch this time, putting her head on his shoulder and leaned into him.

“I like the sound of Cupcake. Why’d you change it?” 

“Trying out some different ones.”

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Dieter moved from her side to in front of her, just sliding his hand to her hip instead of across her waist. Maya was noticing a pattern, that he always seemed to need to touch her. She thought that she should think it’s weird, but she enjoys it. There’s always a hand, shoulder, his chin, lips, cheek finding its way to her.

“Jellybean, Marshmallow, Fluffy Boy, Pooh Bear, Tater Tot.” Dieter turned up his nose. He might let her guess which one he actually liked out of those, but he could throw out some new nicknames too.

“I raise you Maya: Sweet cheeks, Good & Plenty, Love muffin, hot buns or-”

“Wookie!” The actor’s eyes narrowed and he let go of her. His hands were in the air instead, tightening around nothing. That clearly struck a nerve. Maya bit her bottom lip and sniffed the pizza. Maybe Dieter Bravo wasn’t a Star Wars fan.

“Absolutely not! I auditioned for that movie and they gave it to that guy with the black curly hair! Him and his stupid forearms and that massive five o’ clock shadow and…”

“Are you talking about Oscar Issac? You auditioned for Poe Dameron?! I can’t see it, Dieter.” Picking up a slice, she put it to her mouth and bit off a large piece of the slice. The handmade dough seemed to have garlic in it and the sauce had sauteed onions. Cheese topped with ham and mushrooms with a medium brown crust rounded out the delicious flavors together in the pizza. 

“I could have acted like I knew how to fly an x-wing! They’re the ones that missed out!” Now pacing, Dieter started explaining that Issac wasn’t as good an actor as he was, didn’t get as many roles or money and he clearly was better looking than him too. Maya just watched him, continuing to take more bites of the slice and picking up another one. Her low rumbles from her throat were making Dieter slow down. “And he got to work with Mark Hamil and Carrie Fisher….Maya are you…What did the chef put in that pizza?” He finally stopped and watched as she had sauce around the corners of her mouth and a touch on her nose. 

“I was really hungry. I figured you were going to talk about He who shall not be named for a while. The pizza’s warm now and not hot. Shit it’s so good!” She licked her fingers and Dieter thought it was strange. He picked up a slice and took a few bites. Yummy but nothing unusual. Her behavior is odd. He didn’t plan to give her any molly. That was going to be after a movie or two and he wouldn’t force her…Ah. His juice. He was gonna take that tomorrow to get through that golf thing. This is not good. Maya reached for her orange juice glass that was half empty and Dieter snatched it away. “No Kit Kat! You need water only. Trust me on this.” She shook her head at him and started on her third slice of pizza humming a song he didn’t recognize. Dieter got her a bottle of water out of the fridge along with the bottle of orange juice he had planned on taking tomorrow. It was half empty, he instructed her to drink instead of just giggling and poured the rest of her glass back in his bottle. No one’s wasting premium drugs though.

“If you’re mad I drink your juice, sorry. I like orange juice and this pizza. You gotta eat this pizza too. Stop thinking about that man. He’s not in a villa in Hawaii. I feel a little warm…” Sweat beads were forming on her forehead. He handed her the water bottle and she popped the bottle and started gulping it down. Bravo had to pause, what else did he need to do, normally his assistant or someone his team hired made sure he was safe during his drug escapades. He had agreed to scale back so they were giving him a bit of leeway letting him stay without one of his team there and just a guest. Now he had gotten his guest unintentionally high. 

“Fuck me…I don’t want to have to call them. They’ll never let me stay by myself again after this.” He muttered to himself as he got a wet paper towel to wipe Maya’s face. Her giggle at the cool water was cute though. He never really had to take care of himself, let alone someone else. He then wiped off her hands and held them after. 

“You don’t have to call anyone Sugar Lips. I’m open to fucking you sometime this week. Not sure when. I have to let the idea marinate in my brain. We can start with touching though.” Her eyes were glassy and her smile was warm. Dieter almost took her up on the offer as she closed the distance between them and continued to look up at him. 

“Maya you truly don’t know how much I want to take you up on that. We can’t tonight though. We have to get settled in and you need to drink so much more water. Hydration is important.” Truly, if she wasn’t high, able to truly say yes to him and he didn’t think she would be pissed about finding out she got high from his OJ, he would take her up to his room right now, but he isn’t that kind of man. Sure he’s not an angel, but not an asshole. “I think we’ll leave the pizza and go upstairs to get some sleep. We can check the rest of the house tomorrow.” Taking a step back, he held one of her hands and led her up the stairs. Entering Maya’s room seemed odd to him, but he was going to have to figure this out. Hopefully.

Undressing her was a bad idea, in fact, Dieter had to keep Maya from undressing in front of him. Unheard of this situation, keeping a woman he wanted fully clothed. Dieter was able to wrangle her in the bed and lay beside her, as soon Maya’s head hit the pillow she was out, snoring loudly. He chuckled, content to watch her face.

“So weird. I never thought I would wanna watch someone else sleep. Not sure what it is about you Toblerone. Maybe because you’re not pretentious? Mmm, no I don’t think that’s it. Doesn’t matter for now. I’ll think about tomorrow. Don’t dream about my snobby assistant or Oscar Issac, no matter how great of an ass he has. I bet you that’s how he got the Star Wars gig.” Bravo’s hand traced her round cheek, poking it softly. “I should ask you what skincare you use, you could be twenty-five or sixty-five Maya…” His voice trailed off and his hand landed on her neck, she curled closer to Dieter and groaned lightly, an unknown warmth next to her but she didn’t feel afraid. Maya felt safe next to someone in bed for the first time in a long time.

Previous: Chapter One

Next: Chapter Three

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[luescris]

Uhhhh so I wrote a Lego Movie 2 fanfiction about an idea I had if Rex was just sent back to his own timeline, click the link to AO3 but also spread this around if you can too thanks

I know this particular fandom is dead and old but. Yuh lmao

Fanfiction is under the cuttttt *dances*

The last thing Rex expected to happen when disappearing from his past–well, Emmett’s present, now (man time travel never got any less confusing)--was to find himself standing on the outskirts of a city, about a few yards away.

A city that looked like a mix between Apocalypseburg, Bricksburg… And kinda like a seven year old threw up pretty sparkly rainbow stuff in random places. In fact, it looked like it was in the middle of being rebuilt, of all things, and in truth the former Master Builder knew that he should have been excited, happy even, at this new sight before him. His past and former self would have been. 

Instead all Rex could do was stand there, utterly confused.

If it were another time, before he had saved himself, he probably would have resented the city for moving on. Without him no less. Resented his so-called friends. A part of him still wanted to hold onto that resentment. But the other… Well. He didn't know what to think now.

Before something came around and told him this was all just some messed up dream he was having and that he was actually dead, the adventurer looked himself over, checking his hands, feet, and his own heart beat. Which was all still there, still beating. What a blessing that was. Maybe this was a second chance. His second chance, or theirs.

Maybe he could finally get some answers this way. Just maybe.

Whatever the case, after goggling at the city for another minute, Rex took in a breath of air, chest rising with his arms, brows furrowing with determination, and he marched himself towards the city, towards the place he had avoided at all and any cost, up until now.

Who knew how long it had been since he disappeared. Did his friends even care? Did they even know? Had they gone out to find him at all?? Or did they give up, move on… And not even try? All these questions did was utterly annoy him as he made his way into… Wait. What was it even called now??

Turning his head left and right, he spotted a large sign in the distance that was just as messy and unorganized as the city, but much more finished than the rest. In blacks, browns, reds and sparkly pinks and blues, it read, “BRICKTOPIALYPSEBURG”. Which had him snort and shake his head, turning away. What a ridiculous thing to name something. Utter nonsense.

Still. That small part of him, the part he thought he had squashed away forever and for good, was beyond excited about all the pretty colors and new sights and sounds as he finally entered, a seemingly permanent scowl on his face as he looked around.

All around him were signs of rebuilding, of rehabilitation, from the years spent having to hide in fear from the aliens that came and quite literally ruined his whole life. As Rex walked he spotted a few workers in the distance handing each other a two by eight stacked in three, probably for support of something, and when he looked another direction found two others sitting on top of a building, chatting away the day. Probably on some sort of break. 

A few people were even walking around the city freely and happily, even mingling with Sis-Star System habitants, as if they hadn't been the very things that threatened to destroy them from day one. Not a single person paid any mind to the rather grumpy-looking man walking through, just as he had suspected would happen. Which was totally fine by him, not like he wanted the attention, anyway. He was a man on a mission, looking for something. All the way on the other side of the city. So all Rex did was give a rather nasty look at the aliens and a quiet “feh” to himself. 

And went on his way.

The farther back he went, the less BrickaTopiaLypseBurg seemed destroyed. Buildings of all shapes and sizes shone in the sun like new, greenery was even starting to return to the dirt. That same small part of him wanted to feel endlessly happy about seeing what used to be his home growing again. But Rex wouldn't let himself rejoice. Not yet. Not so soon. He had to make sure first. He had to know…

He didn't stop walking even past the city borders. It might have taken him an hour at most to walk through the entire place, but he at least hoped it was worth it. He knew he was almost there, he was so sure. 

All at once Rex froze, eyes widening with shock once they landed on something a few yards away. Something familiar.

The house… Their house.

The one he had made her all those years ago. When he was still naive and young. Clueless to what his actions would lead to. There was no possible way it was standing here now, right in front of him, but… He recognized that blue roof and yellow walls from anywhere. Glistening in the light of the falling sun, in the backdrop of a land recovering from war.

Speechless with how impossible this was, Rex moved forward, slowly. Staring at the build like it would disappear from his very own eyes any moment now. He hadn't even noticed he had made it when his toe hit the first step, his eyes moving down to the door. Nothing else could stop him as he climbed the steps and opened the door, standing in the living room.

“Not exactly an apartment, there, buddy.” 

Just for nostalgia’s sake, he breathed, “Good morning, apartment…” 

Rex flinched with a startled gasp and whipped himself around, his fight or flight instincts immediately kicking in as his hands balled into fists defensively. Turns out, there was no need to.

Because standing on the porch with her arms crossed and brows furrowed dangerously, was Wildstyle. Hair pink and blue but with that dangerous look in her eyes that also always meant business. All he could do was stare.

“You wanna tell me why you, a completely random stranger, decided to show up and snoop around in my house uninvited and unannounced??” She asked, a dangerous accusation very much in her voice. A warning on the edge of it. 

The former Master Builder and still Master Builder stared each other off for another tense minute. Seeming to gather himself, Rex managed a scoff and a roll of his eyes, straightening himself and crossing his arms with a scowl of his own.

“Thought all you city folk were supposed to be welcoming to newcomers, such as myself.” He quipped back, just as on edge.

Wildstyle’s brow creased up. “We might have been, once. But even before I don't think anyone would just walk into someone's space like they owned it, especially not in the way you just did.” She looked him up and down, skeptical. “Who are you, anyway?? What do you want?” 

He wasn't going to think about the fact that he was completely hypocritical right now, considering how many times he had left his own apartment door unlocked. He'd come home to find stuff missing every time.

Honestly, he felt beyond offended that she had not only looked at him that way, but also was asking if he wanted something. He gave her a mean look of his own. “Who said I'd want anything from you? Maybe I just got turned around somewhere. In fact, this is your own fault if anything. I mean who leaves their door unlocked before going out??” 

Regardless, his words did the trick, because now she looked mad, in a satisfying way that had Rex smirk. She stepped to the side with a glower of her own. “Whatever. Just get out. I don't want anyone as unpleasant as you in our home, anyway.” 

She didn't mean…?

Rex would have moved, he was all kinds of ready to, but how she said that last part had him pause completely. He furrowed his brows, just a little, and echoed, “... ‘Our home’?”

“None of your beezwax.” Wildstyle stretched her arm out and pointed back towards the city, hissing, “Go. Before I make you.” 

The adventurer simply raised his hands in a placating surrender, shrugging. “Okay. Okay fine, I'm going. No need for violence, lady.” 

He did just as she told him to, slowly, his eyes on hers and her eyes on his, glaring and irritated. It never took much to get her to blow a fuse, and strangely enough that had been one of the things he used to be attracted to. Among other things, but… Now was not the time.

Just before the first step, feeling her eyes on his back, he stopped and turned his head to look at her. He met his former partner’s confused look and gave one of the softest smiles he had to offer. Just as a test, just to see…

“Not much seemed to change about you despite everything else changing, ey… Lucy?” 

One second Wildstyle's eyes widened and the next Rex found his back hitting the ground, the wind being knocked out of him with a surprised, “oof!”. Then there was Lucy’s face over his, covering the sky and her glare burning as she took hold of his vest.

“How do you know that name?!” She demanded in a hiss. “Only one person can ever call me that, only one person ever knew that name!” He was tugged closer, her bangs brushing his forehead. “How do you know that name??” 

One moment he was staring up at her incredulously, then burst out laughing, rather inappropriately, making Wildstyle back up a little with angry confusion. But he couldn't help it, it was just too good. The female rebel regained her composure and held onto his vest tighter.

“What's so funny??”

Rex shook his head, trying to contain his laughter and rubbing at his eye. When he was mostly able to control it he looked up at her with one eye shut and a fat-ass grin on his face. “Ha, haha..! Sorry, not sorry actually but, man. That look on your face was priceless and so totally worth it. No Regrets, trademarked by me by the way.” He winked up at her, which had her absolutely lost again, but he paid no mind to it as he went on. “I mean seriously, though. Have I really changed that much to where even you don't recognize me anymore??” 

Wildstyle’s brows furrowed so hard it was like they were trying to connect. Her grip on his vest lessened immensely. “... What?? I don't know you. What are you talking about??” 

The ex Master Builder rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Oh of course. You're gone for more than two years and suddenly everyone you thought you knew and loved forgets who you are. How typical, but not surprising, considering that's how most of my life went.” Here was where his grin dropped and he locked a glare straight onto her shocked, bewildered face. “I would have thought that you of all people would've been different. But I guess I was wrong about that, too.” He finished, hate like venom in his voice.

Finally, she had let him go with a horrified gasp, dropping him to the ground and backing up a step. As if having been slapped. Rex sat up on his elbows to watch her face go pale, horror settling into her eyes as she beheld him. Horror and… And guilt?? Huh.

Now that was unexpected.

“No…” Wildstyle whispered, shaking her head. “No, it… It can't be…” 

Rex sat himself up and crossed his legs, nonchalant and absolutely unbothered by this display, shrugging. “And why not?? Did you expect your dearly beloved Emmett to come crawling back home instead of me?? Because he's here, alright. But he's me. And I am Rex.” He grinned again, but it was not warm. Cold and hateful. “Rex Dangervest.” 

Once again, there was another moment where the two simply stared at each other, tense like two cats ready for a fight. A coil yet to be sprung. 

But then, as shocking as ever, he witnessed as the tough and ruthless Wildstyle break before him, her eyes glossing over, a few tears even coming out of her eyes as she covered her mouth.

Okay. Not at all what he was expecting. 

Rex stayed skeptical, still, but answered anyway. “... Did you not just hear me?? I said my name is–”

“Emmett…?” She breathed, as if the name was foreign to her. 

He didn't get a chance to say anything else. Again Lucy had lunged herself forward except this time her arms were around his neck, absolutely crushing him and a sob coming from his left ear. He had his hands up, unsure what to do with them and himself in general as she held him tighter.

“Emmett, oh Emmett you're alive!!” She cried in a mix of joy, disbelief and sorrow. “I can't believe it, we thought–..! I was so sure and…!! You're here you're really here!!”

There was another mix of a laugh and a sob again. But all Rex could do was stare at nothing in the distance, what she was implying was incredibly disturbing. His chest filled with something gross and foreboding.

That small part of him from the very beginning of this journey returned and desperately wanted nothing more than to hold her back. Hold her close and never let go. But his hands moved, slowly, to Lucy's shoulders to push her off. Which she obliged to, sitting back and looking at him with confusion,  blinking at the stoney look on his face. “... Emmett?” She prodded, weary.

He didn't look at her right away. Kept his hands on her shoulders as he thought, hard. Because… Because if what she was saying was true, then everything he did… Everything he had gone through…

When Rex did finally slide his eyes up to meet hers, they were conflicted and dark. “... You thought that, all this time, I… I had been…?” 

Again there was that deep guilt that came to Lucy's expression. One she hid away from him by looking down at the ground. But she answered him regardless by just doing that.

Wildstyle's head shot up so fast even he had thought he had gotten whiplash. “What?! Oh no Emmett of course we did! We searched everywhere for you after we came back from the wedding party! We thought… We thought you had stayed back and hid but, everyone told us that you came to try to save us and hadn't seen you since…!” She used a hand to try to wipe at her eyes, trying to regain her emotions. But didn't look back up at her former partner. “Queen Whatevra’wannabe even helped us. We checked every planet, every gateway, every dimension, for so long, but… But…” 

That rage, the wound he thought he'd stitched closed, reopened. But he inhaled to keep it contained. Don't come to conclusions. Not yet. Not yet… “You… Didn't bother trying to find me…?” 

Lucy shut her eyes, as if in pain, and Rex waited. Even if it felt like his world was crumbling from under him for the second time in his life. Somehow, though, this was worse. Much worse.

She took in a shaky breath to continue, her hands folded together. “What… We found, where we should have found you, was debris. From the, first, house you built us, and… Even if we had found you, it would've been far too late to do anything. So… So we went back to Bricksburg…” Here was where more of her tears fell and again she hid away from him, as if ashamed. “And held a funeral for you.” 

That was officially the topping of the cake for him. Rex pulled himself away from her and stood, his back facing towards her shocked expression as he took a few steps away, fists clenched to hide them from shaking. He could feel her stare on his back, but didn't say anything for a while, trying to control his own reeling emotions.

When he did speak again, it was low. “So. You gave up on me, then.” 

“That's not fair.” Lucy responded, sounding downright broken that it made him flinch. “I just told you we searched everywhere we could for you. And I never gave up, Emmett, I swear. I just… We…!” 

Her voice broke. He stood there and listened to her trying to quell quiet sobs. His already broken heart bleeding again.

“... I'm sorry.” She eventually whispered. “I'm so sorry I left you. That we… That we gave up. We never meant to, we just… We couldn't find you. Where were you??” 

All this time… Rex had assumed they forgot. That they didn't care. But it wasn't that. They didn't know.

Which, in retrospect, if he hadn't let his doubts get to him… Would have made sense. 

But how long would he have been under there for?? How long would he be left to waste if he didn't take matters into his own hands?? What would have become of him? If he had just done nothing…

His past self was proving him wrong. Once again. They, or at least Lucy, still did care. She would have come for him, in another time. Another time that wasn't his own. She still did care, by the house she most certainly remade with her own two hands. Exactly how he had made it. Called it “their home”. 

The least he could do now… Was give her a proper answer.

“... I was in the Undar of the Dryar System.” Rex finally tells her past the lump in his throat. “In the Man Upstairs’s realm. For five years.” 

A cold chill that didn't come from the breeze filled the thick tension in the air. There was no indication that Lucy would start talking again. So he did.

“I waited there. Convinced that someone, anyone, would come find me. Help me out. But the longer I waited, the more I thought, ‘This was my fault. They were right. I'm useless.’”

“I made myself get up.” Rex went in like he hadn't heard her. “I got tired of waiting. Of being useless. A nobody. So I became a somebody. Rex Dangervest.” He raised his hands as if presenting a sign that held his name, then dropped them. “I thought I had to, because no one else told me otherwise. You wanted me rough, tough, edgy. Just like you.” Here was where he turned to her, expressionless to her raw despair. “And now, that's what you got. And you're still not happy?” 

“Emmett-”

Somewhere in between his monologuing Lucy had gotten up off the ground herself, but she looked sick. Stuck to where he was pinning her down with the haunted look in his eyes.

“... But, you know I'm not.” The Master Builder rebel manages to get out. “Don't you see that?? I'm not happy, but for something else completely. This… All of this,” She motioned to his whole self. “Was not what I wanted. Does it look like I'm happy…? Happy that you had to suffer like that??” 

Rex only stared at her for a minute, analyzing, then looked down at the ground. Which invited her to move up to his side, ever so slowly and carefully. Her hand found purchase on his shoulder and he turned his head away from her.

It was now her turn to continue, and his to listen. “I was wrong for wanting to change you. You're kind, funny, smart… Everything this world needed. Everything that I needed. I just, didn't see that sooner and it… It cost everything.” 

He raised his head to finally stare back at her, much less intense. The sunset highlighting her highlights and skin, her eyes glistening. He always liked her eyes…

She tightened her grip on his shoulder when he did. Maybe for encouragement or support, he couldn't tell. “I never should have tried to change you. You're perfect. Just the way you are. The way you have always been.” Lucy’s expression fell into guilt and sorrow then. “Sorry won't fix any of this. I know it's too late. I don't even expect a second chance. But, Emmett…” 

The hand on his shoulder lifted to cup his cheek, so tender and soft it took his breath away. When she blinked again, tears trailed down her cheeks. Not many, but enough.

He wasn't ready to admit that out loud, though. So, instead, he lifted his own hand and wrapped it around her wrist gently, pulling it away without breaking eye contact. 

“I missed you.” Lucy breathed. “I was so lost without you… And now you're back. That's all I needed.” 

Rex stared at her for a long, long time. Her words revolved around his head. She was right. It didn't fix any of it. He didn't think it ever could… But he also knew none of this was really her fault, either. If anything, it was his own. He couldn't take her apology until he fixed himself. Somehow.

“... No.” He murmured. Watching as Wildstyle's eyes widened. “I'm not back. I don't think I'll ever be. … Emmett is gone.” It hurt, terribly, but he had to. He had to step back and let go of her wrist. “I told you. The name is Rex now. … No Regrets.”

Something broke in Wildstyle's gaze. But he won't stick around to fix it. He couldn't.

Rex Dangervest, walking corpse of Emmett Brickowski, stepped around the person they both cared about the most, and left her in the metaphorical and literal dust. Leaving her to stand there in front of their house, watching him leave. 

No Regrets. He reminds himself as he makes his way back to the city. Even as his heart bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. Trademarked and mine.

[zeenmrala]

The Ladies Nienna and Ayane

this beautiful piece was created by @kimageddon, commissioned by @stardustbee for my birthday and it has to be one of the most special and gorgeous pieces i have ever received!!! it was inspired by a fic i wrote for bee about the friendship our OCs have between universes, the second time they meet. nienna (left) is my oc who is also the reader character from my fanfiction by the light of the second moon and ayane (right) is bee's oc from her fic the dance of sun and moon. this piece is part two, part one was a gift from bee last year which you can find here here. i'll post the new fic below just in case any friends are interested. love you, thank you so very much!!!!!!!1

The lady Nienna sits alone in her gardens, on the edge of a shallow pond, beneath the branches of draping swaying trees. It is a fragrant dusk evening on Naboo, and the growing summer breeze licks at her skin, her lower arms exposed from her sweeping green gown. 

She is sketching privately in a little book, a habit from her youth that she was never able to forsake. Her drawings are much more profound than they were when she was a young woman, her skills and precision having improved over the years during her career as a portrait artist and art-critic. What has stayed the same however, is her muse. Her lover from her days as a young adult, and once again now, as a grown woman of thirty-five: the renegade Sith Lord Maul. Her reacquaintance with him did not go as smoothly as their first meeting all those years ago did, with petty squabbles and resentment and unspoken words muddying the waters of their reunion. But in the last year they have comfortably settled into a relaxed yet unusual dynamic. She cannot call it a relationship, no - he is much too damaged and maddened and chaotic for such a thing. However, whatever it is that they have now, it suits them well enough. 

Nienna assesses her work, the sketch is of her lover from their meeting a couple of days ago. He had paid her a surprise visit, handsomely stylish in new robes and a pendant around his neck, an emblem of a rising sun that signifies his underworld criminal venture, Crimson Dawn. She thinks that his new aesthetic suits him now that his frame has grown larger with age, power and wealth. The dark tunic and gold regalia fits the powerful vision of him impeccably. His durasteel legs gleam in the same way that his brushed chromium weapon does, the hilt of the thing bold and dangerous: he carries it constantly at his hip like another cybernetic limb. She hums softly as she looks over her rendition of this strange man that is inexplicably tangled up in her life, feelings of an even stranger love tugging at her heart. She thinks over all that they have been through together, all that they have faced alone. How they have found one another again. 

She notices a change in the air, then. A hazy sweeping density that plunges her into a soft weightlessness. She blinks rapidly, dropping her sketchpad to the plush grass as she stands. It is a unique dreaminess that she has felt before, in a life long ago, but cannot seem to place. She spins around, searching between the trees and exotic flower-beds as she senses that she is being observed. The forest before her morphs, the rich greens and browns of leaves and soil twisting into deep reds and hazy ochres of a rocky landscape. Before she can register the ominous curiousness of her current predicament, a silhouette emerges from the blur, the definition of the figure slowly morphing into full clarity. It is a vivid and feminine shape, tall and striding with purpose. 

A woman that is heavy with child.

She is wearing a black dress with silver detailing at the waist and the dark fabric flows around her exquisitely as she walks, her thin hand resting protectively on her large belly. Her pale shoulders are exposed, but the reddish light of the strange scene warms the tundra of her skin. A choker of gleaming metal adorns her throat, the necklace engraved with the emblem of a raven, bold and solid. She has dark inky hair that is swept neatly from her face, half is up, braided with a twisting delicacy at the back of her head, the rest of it straight and silky, falling shiny and rich down her back. 

Nienna becomes painfully aware of her own appearance, of her hair, which sits wild and bushy and curly around her head, her fingers stained with charcoal, her long dress, though custom-made, artisan and beautiful, has foliage and dirt littering the materials of her skirts from lounging in the grass all afternoon. Why must she always appear moonstruck and crazed, especially when facing strangers in the woods? It is a commonality of her whole life, her wild, earthy aesthetic always coinciding with strange meetings in the forest. She sighs, attempting to maintain her dignity and embrace her own rugged beauty in the face of the regal brilliance of the stranger's own. 

The woman stops when she is a few strides from Nienna, squints her eyes at her, as though trying to place her. Close up, she seems less ravishing and more…frightening. Ethereal wrath burns beneath her expression, the weight of experience roaring in her irises. Those eyes…

"It's you," says Nienna, recognition morphing her expression into awe, astonishment lacing her words. "Ayane. The friend from my dreams in girlhood." She tilts her head, takes in the image of the looming, elegant woman before her. "My, you've changed."

Her friend’s eyes are the same colour as she remembers, but where they were once the blue of open summer skies, they are now the iced rage of a stormy sea. Though she seems more mature and wise, there are no lines of age marking her skin. Those lines are around Nienna’s eyes though, the years of her life beginning to stain her complexion, the youth slowly being leached from her skin. Ayane looks frozen in time, yet vibrant with the wisdom of a lifetime. 

“Nienna,” greets Ayane, a soft smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. “It has been a while.”

“How are you here?” The shorter woman asks bluntly, her confusion overriding her politeness. She reaches forward into the red mist that has followed Ayane into her vergant gardens, wiggles her fingers in it. It's cold.

Ayane purses her lips, looks around her. “Curious, isn’t it?” Her palm circles her pregnant stomach as she wanders. A silence settles around them, both unsure of how to approach this odd reunion. A crater of years rests between them, a vast distance between universes, as well as the inherently perplexing nature of their meeting. Nienna has thirsted for knowledge since she was freed from her home planet, and has scoured the worlds in search of it. She is an intelligent and well read woman, the itch to learn and rid herself of that childish naivety she has always loathed in herself as necessary for her as breathing. She researched her dreams, her strange visions and the odd meeting she had with Ayane as a young woman, and has only discovered one potential connecting factor - The Force. It beguiles her, frightens her. Mystical and maddening, its clutches have haunted her for her entire life. Is it the cause of this meeting now, too?

Nienna watches Ayane closely, following her movement with wide, green eyes. Then the woman stops cold, and a wash of menace sluices down Nienna’s spine.

"What is this?" She asks sharply, danger rippling in her voice. Nienna follows her extended finger, which points to her sketchpad on the ground, its pages open to her newest sketch of Maul.

Nienna frowns, blinking. "My art," she answers defensively, not appreciating the sneering nature of Ayane's tone.

"Why are you drawing him?" There is confusion and accusation in her eyes as she glares at her. The grave shadow in her gaze starts to become literal, the whites of them darkening to black. Her anger burns her irises red, and her lips instinctively pull back, revealing sharp fangs. She all but hisses at her.

Nienna flinches. She is perplexed at her friend’s sudden wildness and grim transformation, at how she recognised her lover in the sketch. "You know him?"

“Know him?” spits Ayane violently, "He is my husband. The father of my children."

Husband? Nienna is dumbfounded, completely taken aback. “Impossible.”

Ayane looks down at her body, swollen with the very opposite of Nienna’s truth. “This babe will be our third.” When she looks back up again, her darkness has dissipated, her anger quelled by the reassurance of their unborn child. Her eyes are the familiar blue Nienna first recognised, her mouth and lips returned to normal. It is as though Nienna imagined it. 

Perhaps she did. 

Third. The word rings in her ears. Three children? How could he possibly reproduce? It is physically unfeasible. A fantasy. Nienna bends to the ground and picks up the book. 

“This sketch of him is an image from three days ago, Ayane. Look closer. At his lower half,” she insists, assuming this all to be some terrible mistake. 

The pregnant woman takes the sketchpad from Ni with gentle fingers. She straightens upright, then brings the drawing closer to her eyes. She looks over the subject of the drawing, making note of such a unique face, a face that definitely belongs to Maul. It is unmistakable, what with his casual expression of contempt, the imposing crown of horns, his handsome nose and jaw: her soulmate's features are as familiar to Ayane as her own body is. She sees the cybernetics of his legs, and her bewilderment grows. Why does he have those? Why is Nienna drawing him? 

“Who is he to you?” she demands coldly.

“I don’t have words for it,” Nienna replies truthfully, unable to make sense of what he is to her. Ayane stays silent for a moment, and Nienna tries to further explain, but the words do not come easily. “He is my liberator, my tormenter…my…” she tapers off. 

Ayane disappears from herself for a moment, her gaze vacant as she looks into the distance, as though she is searching for something. And she is, internally, reaching out to her bond with Maul, trying to pass the bridge that connects their minds in the Force. But there is nothing there. No bridge, no connection. No bond.

“I cannot feel him,” she whispers, fear and awe strangling the reality out of her. “Not here.”

Nienna’s sense returns to her at these words, and she recalls her previous experiences with Ayane. She is not from this world, this galaxy, this universe - that much is clear. Perhaps she and Maul exist together as husband and wife, as parents…somewhere else. A different set of circumstances, a separate path. 

Another Maul.

“Was he not bisected, where you are from?” she asked tentatively, her stomach twisting. Marriage. Children. How would he be capable of such things?

“Yes,” Ayane says sadly, to Nienna’s shock. “He was grievously injured in battle. But he was healed.” Her watery blue eyes meet the earthen green of Nienna’s. Nienna raises her hands to face, turning away from her friend. Healed?

“I don’t understand,” mutters Nienna, her heart pounding. “How does one heal from an injury of that magnitude?” She has never heard of such a thing, not once in her life. How does a man regain his legs, his reproductive organs, when they have been detached from his body? His survival itself was a miracle, and now this?

“We are from different planes,” assumes Ayane calmly. “My dimension is vastly dissimilar to this one.” She pauses, her lips pouting, her hand on her chin, her eyes glowering in thought. “It appears this…connection…that you and I have, Nienna, is somehow attached to our relationship with him.”

Nienna turns back to face her, and her expression is painted with disbelief. "We are connected…by him?"

“It is our commonality, is it not?” She asks, running her eyes over Nienna. “What is your relationship with Maul?” She spits, and she waits for that violent rage to erupt inside of her, the horrific rush of vengeance that rattles her bones when another woman is associated with him. Nienna doesn’t answer, and Ayane’s patience runs thin, unable to prevent herself from adding, "Do you love him?”

The air is sucked from Nienna’s lungs as she nods. “I do,” she admits breathily, in slight fear of Ayane, the image of her strange eyes and sharp teeth so recent in her mind. She braces herself.

But Ayane does nothing, says nothing, because she is taken aback by her absence of rage. Then she suddenly makes sense of it: it’s because the man Nienna loves is not her Maul. She is not connected with him in this realm, which is why she cannot reach him through their bond. It isn’t him, here, he isn’t hers. He is Nienna’s. Nienna has the same realisation, as she registers that she has not felt any resentment or animosity to Ayane since discovering their shared lover. That she has felt no need to lay claim to him at all.

“Oh,” Ayane murmurs, then smiles, the lack of fierce fury a soothing relief. She looks at Nienna, fondness in her eyes. A pause. “Nienna, this is ever so strange.”

This was not what Nienna expected to come from her friend’s lips. Compassion and empathy courses through Ayane, as she considers the Maul in this dimension, his disability and trauma. The toll this must have on her friend.

"I'm sorry," says Ayane softly. "That in this dimension you will not be able to bear him children."

Nienna snorts. "Don't be. I'd never have his children, even if he could give them to me." Ayane steps back, starting, her hands protective over her stomach.

Nienna’s eyes widen. "Forgive me. What I mean is that I never would have children. Not his, not anyone's."

Ayane seems confused by this. 

“I birth enough creation with my art,” Nienna explains. “This world, this galaxy, this universe. It's no place for a child.” She shakes her head. “Not here.”

“What about marriage?” she asks.

“No,” Nienna insists. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you…happy together?” asks the dark-haired woman curiously.

“That is a complicated question. Our…romance,” Nienna answers, “is not at all conventional.”

Ayane giggles, and it is a heartfelt melodic laugh that breaks the tension between them. “I suppose that’s an intrinsic element of loving him.”

Nienna nods, then pushes her hair from her face. Hesitates.

“Can I ask? Your eyes. They changed colour…”

“Ah yes,” Ayane says nonchalantly. “That happens. I’m not exactly human.”

Nienna does not need to know any more, doesn’t want to. She accepts Ayane’s answer, happy to move on. A hard lesson she has learned is that though truth is sweet and enticing to her, sometimes it is the best course of action to resist knowing more than you need to, more than you are entitled to. She has become rather skilled at treading that line.

“Tell me, Nienna,” requests Ayane, extending her pale hand towards her to give her back her artbook, “of your non-conventional relationship with my husband. I am curious.”

Nienna snorts a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, and Ayane begins to giggle in tandem with her. Nienna takes the sketchpad back from Ayane, then reaches out and takes her friend’s hand. “I shall enlighten you whilst I take you on a tour of my gardens.”

The two wander in the timeless dreamscape, and Nienna identifies and shows off her multitudes of flora as she weaves her life story into words. She tells her of the Moons, her youth as a surgeon’s daughter, Maul’s sudden imposition on her life and the harrowing changes he inflicted upon it. She leaves out the details of their physical relationship, because though integral to their story, it does not seem to have a place in this conversation. Nienna sensed the depth of Ayane’s jealousy that rages in her blood. It is less painful for them both this way.

The walk of the forest is hazy, littered with odd watery scenery that indicate they do not walk the physical realm of her world. It is perplexing, how they are together, why they are together and what relevancy it has to their relationships with the former Sith Lord. The two recall their time in the woods, all those years ago, how they both awoke with a physical remnant of the dream; their flower crowns. 

“I treasure that gift,” Ayane confesses. “I still have it, to this day.” 

“So do I,” says Nienna. The delicate blue crown made with flowers from Ayane’s world sits under lock and key, alongside her other most valuable and sentimental artefacts. It lies in the pages of her secret sketchpad that she treasured all those years ago.

After a pause, Nienna turns towards Ayane and asks, “What do you suppose is the meaning of our meeting tonight? Do you believe there is any rhyme or reason to these events? You are clearly much more knowledgeable and experienced in these matters than I am.”

Ayane sighs softly and shakes her head. “I have not the slightest idea. But I am glad that, for whatever reason, we were able to be reunited again.”

“Me too.”

The two women have now completed a lap of the entire gardens, and have returned to the spot where they were first reunited. They both perch on the edge of the pond, and Nienna retrieves her pouch of pencils that she placed between the rocks. 

She smiles softly, then places her sketchbook and tools on her lap. She has an idea, and is slightly nervous to ask Ayane about it. Eventually, she takes a deep breath, and flicks through to an empty page and looks at her friend. 

“Ayane, would you mind if I did a quick sketch of you? I am a portrait artist, I’ve spent my life perfecting my technique and collecting the faces of those from across the stars. It would mean an awful lot to me to put this beautiful evening to paper, to be able to draw…you.”

Ayane blinks slowly, her hand still resting on her pregnant belly protectively. She seems unsure, but after pondering it for a moment, she ultimately nods, and a tender smile forms on her lips. “Of course, my friend. I would be honoured.” She looks around herself, and reaches for her hair. “Do you want me to…should I…?”

Ni shakes her head. “No, you look great where you are. You’re perfect, Ayane.” 

And so she begins to sketch her muse, starting with an outline of the vampiress. Nienna’s wrists and fingers glide swiftly across the page, and she works fast but precisely, her expertise apparent in her quick fingers and the concentration painted on her face. 

Ayane feels awkward at first, and doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. She shifts, and looks at the ground, her body rigid. She looks more and more uncomfortable as the time stretches on.

“Try and…relax,” advises Nienna kindly when she notices Ayane’s discomfort. “Just look at the stars, at the moon. Watch the sky. Think of your family. Think of…him.”

Ayane nods, and exhales softly. She shifts again, and then looks up into the sky, and smiles. “I’ve always loved the stars, the moon.”

Nienna smiles, sketching as she replies. “As do I. It is a joy to be able to walk beneath the light.”

After a while, Ayane inquires softly. “Do you know of Dathomir, Nienna?” 

“I do.” 

“Dathomir is where I reside,” she says, looking around her at the abundance of flora, the vibrant greens and earthy browns. Nienna’s gardens appear to be the very antithesis to Ayane’s home of rock and red mists. “It is rather…different from yours.”

“Stars,” Nienna exclaims, “you live there? How do you stand it?”

“What do you mean?” asks Ayane, somewhat shocked. 

“It’s not the…um…most comfortable of environments?” 

Ayane nods, and smiles knowingly. “I suppose it can seem that way to some. For me, it’s my ancestral home, the residence of my kin. It is where I was born to be.”

“I do not have the same attachment to it. I went once, at the request of…him. It was not the most pleasant of atmospheres, to put it lightly. I haven’t returned since.”

Ayane giggles. “I can only imagine what the humidity did to your hair.”

“Exactly! It was awful. He said I looked like some kind of wild woman.”

Their laughter fades, and then the peaceful silence returns until Ayane breaks it. “Tell me Nienna, have you watched the moons from the Dathomiri mountains?”

Nienna pauses, and exhales. “No, I haven’t. I have yet to accept another of my lover’s invitations to his native home.”

“The next time he requests your presence, oblige him,” Ayane suggests. “Allow him to walk you up to the mountains. Watch the skies at night. It is the most beautiful thing - I can hardly bring myself to describe it. If your Dathomir is the same as mine, that is.”

The artist pauses in her sketching, and looks into the ocean eyes of her friend. “I will, Ayane. Thank you, that is very thoughtful. And I shall think of you when I look upon the moons of Dathomir. I will give the place another try.”

The two women sit beneath the Naboo night sky as Nienna continues to sketch Ayane under the moonlight. The breeze remains gentle and floral, and it brushes against them in a soothing caress, the leaves around them rustling softly. The evening stretches into the timeless dreamscape, and then, it is almost finished.

Nienna completes her sketch, drops her pencil and flexes her fingers and wrists. “Ah,” she sighs in slight pain. “My hands aren’t what they used to be.” She then shuffles over to Ayane and presents her the portrait. “What do you think?”

Ayane sucks in a sharp breath as she appraises the image of herself on the paper. Lady Nienna is highly regarded as being in possession of a rare and unique talent: in laying bare truth. She is able to present to the world, in full clarity, the hearts and desires of her subjects through their eyes and expressions. 

The drawing of Ayane presents a softened reflection of the vampire, as though Nienna has delved deep into her mind and forced forth the girl from her younger years. Hope and loss and confusion gleam in Ayane's eyes, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as though in anticipation - as though that young girl she used to be is poised and ready to run from her life. 

It's raw and candid and real: exquisite. 

"Oh, Nienna…" Ayane says, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've not seen this version of myself for many years." 

Nienna smiles softly, her eyes glazing across her work. "That's the person I first met. The Ayane I know." She meets her gaze. "The Ayane you are, deep down. My friend."

A tight fist of sentiment twists in Ayane's chest. Then, a soft breeze flickers the pages, revealing a self portrait Nienna sketched a few moons ago. 

"This is you," Ayane says. The woman in the sketch has darkness in her eyes, yearning warping the clothes she is dressed in in a strange darkness. Her face, though neutral in expression, screams for purpose and liberation. Haunted. 

"It's who I was. Who I am."

A pause. The dreamscape warps and glitches, and Ayane becomes slightly…transparent.

"It's fading." Ayane looks around herself, hesitance and resistance paints her expression. "Our time is coming to an end."

"Take this." Nienna tears out the self portrait, crushing it into Ayane's palm. "Remember me. I'll remember you."

Ayane's eyes water. "I hope to see you again, one day."

"As do I." Ni swallows, holding her sketchpad to her chest. "Goodbye Ayane."

"Nienna," Ayane says as she begins to fade, reaching her hand towards the shorter woman. "Remember the Moons."

And then she disappears, the crimson dawn of her home, universes apart, evaporates into the dark swamp greens of Nienna's gardens.

Ni takes a breath, the weightless feeling dispersing. She is grounded again. With charcoal stained fingers, she flicks to the page in her book that held the drawing of Ayane. 

It's still there.

-

[kitsoa]

Do you have any fiction writing you would never show anyone? Not in a “cause it’s bad/not finished yet” or in a “cause I wrote it when I was 12” sort of a way, but like because it’s too personal?

For example there’s some short stories or snippets of writing I’d never show anyone cause sometimes it’s a way for me to like journal and get out of my head. Like if I wanna say something to someone but I’m too much of a coward I’ll write a little piece about what would happen if I were to say that. It’s weird to describe but it’s like fiction of my real life (as in, fiction of myself and people that may be based loosely on my friends or family but with the names changed). For that reason I don’t think I’d ever show anyone.

Do you ever do anything like that?

Ahh man, thoughtful question and kinda brings up a deep cut for me. I have tons of fic I've sat on. Mainly for those original 2 purposes (I've got my childhood fanfics in a vault and I have unfinished work everywhere) but in terms of personal stories, I would say I've never been one to be autobiographical in a direct sense. I write to summon the impossible and exercise my emotions in ways I don't often experience, or at least in ways more extreme than I am used to. I try to explore personal struggles and themes in my narratives and I'm usually pretty open about it. Like my Kingdom Hearts fic was all just me processing moving out and finally joining this 'real world'. I've got this Trigun fic I'm dancing in my head right now that is a direct response to my feelings about the current world situation and my disappointment in society and search for hope. That's personal but I don't think it's the same kind of personal you've shared which is like direct inspiration. When I was younger I had some fantastical stories that I would make comics or imagine dramatic scenes for-- it was a cast of characters that were entirely directly based off of family and friends but they had super cool powers and were fighting world ending threats. It falls under the category of intensely self-indulgent and totally uninteresting and incoherent to anyone other than myself. That is the closest I would get to 'self' fanfiction.

I also wanted to make a slice-of-life comic about my days in marching band. I had character designs and everything. It was a way to like worship what I considered the most vibrant and impactful point of my life. Then I got older lol. I think that kind of framing did help me appreciate the moment even more. I felt like I was crafting some 4 part autobiography. I think it's a wonderful way to journal those feelings anon. I mean, it's certainly more creatively empowering. It doesn't even have to yield anything of substance or quality-- by just processing and using those emotions and conflicts, you assert appreciation and power over all kinds of situations, and get valuable creative exercise. I'm kinda jealous! I simply write about my emotions in journal posts or ranting tweets to a bunch of strangers in the void so I don't have to deal with the consequences of people I know impacting my daily life with misunderstanding or misplaced concern. (I'm learning I have an issue with that... I was very open about some of my struggles while recovering and I kinda hated all the attention.) It would have been nice to saw off the barcodes and translate it into a story. At least then the guilt of manipulation would be intentional ha!

I kinda fell off topic. I love this discussion because it just cuts deep to why I write or create stories. Its nice. I hope you continue to make those fics no one will ever see Anon. We are the first and most important reader.