#it's Lua's fault

[clown-demon]

((Sorry I'm in Honkai Hell...

[atolua]

Han jisung entering his sick era fr fr

I just know rin came back home and all she could talk about was 'lua was so hot, she was so fine, she looked so good I almost fainted, everyone was screaming, I couldn't breathe it was soo cool' someone else asks her 'how was performing on stage?' 'oh performing on stage was so fun- ON THAT NOTE DID YOU SEE LUA'S PERFORMANCE???'

Shes promoting them better than kq...

sweetie’s not gonna be sleeping for the next 3-5 business years- OKAY BUT LIKE…… have you seen kq’s ceo 😃 he is a Man yes but… he could be 25% forgiven for fumbling at times

[doodle-pops]

Imagine Maglor dressing Elrond and Elros up for the Christmas party:

Maedhros: Hi boys-- what are you wearing?!?

Elros: Dad dressed us up

Elrond: Dad my hair hurts

Maedhros: it's okay baby, uh where's Maglor?

Maglor: RIGHT HERE

Caranthir: I knew we should have never let him spend time with dad, look what he became

Curufin: wine anyone?

Celegorm: yes please *proceed to chug a whole goblet of wine*

It's creative of you ask me, but god dammit Maglor you're taking the aesthetics a bit to seriously 😂.

OMG Maglor dressing up as the star I can absolutely see, he's so dramatic and such a diva

Tell Celegorm to save some wine for me!!!!!

[backformores]

me casually looking for felix facecams and coming across so many pretty hyunjin facecams for @tixti mwahahahaha

[aesrot]

another day another slay. but the one slaying is my tummy. slaying me.

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ] [ Next Chapter ]

— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes. 

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal. 

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his. 

But this morning is different. 

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name. 

It echoes back to him. 

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears. 

How can nothing be so loud? 

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed,  he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips. 

The gears in his brain start to turn. 

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone. 

Understanding twists his guts bowtie. 

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house. 

He finds nothing. 

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin. 

He goes outside. 

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street. 

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo. 

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real. 

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase? 

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice. 

I love you with everything I am. 

Until the next life, 

Lua 

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too. 

—

The words don’t compute at first. 

He shakes his head and reads it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick. 

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right. 

This can’t be happening. 

He needs to talk to you right fucking now. 

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you. 

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play. 

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces. 

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.” 

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone. 

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss. 

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you. 

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way. 

This time he gets nothing. 

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean? 

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and— 

Your phone jumps to life. 

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker. 

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?” 

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?” 

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…” 

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards. 

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.” 

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?” 

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.” 

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information. 

Parker continues. 

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips. 

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.” 

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor. 

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go. 

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?” 

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.” 

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor. 

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.” 

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene. 

It takes him three seconds to find it. 

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark” 

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues: 

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges. 

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges. 

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture: 

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.” 

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment. 

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer. 

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds. 

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!” 

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up. 

The second person he calls is his lawyer. 

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?” 

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.” 

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?” 

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.” 

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.” 

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?” 

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.” 

“I see.” 

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.” 

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks: 

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.” 

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen. 

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues. 

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat. 

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.” 

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.” 

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.” 

The nausea returns. 

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.” 

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs. 

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy. 

But for once, he feels completely sane. 

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.” 

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.” 

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass. 

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same. 

“How’s she doing?” 

His stomach twists. 

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her. 

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat. 

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp. 

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.” 

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?” 

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds. 

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.” 

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you. 

He speaks it out loud. 

“She’s in the fucking woods now.” 

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones. 

Darlene stays quiet. 

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?” 

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.” 

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name. 

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?” 

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.” 

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.” 

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?” 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.” 

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.” 

He huffs and takes a drink. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim. 

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.” 

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity. 

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?” 

“Not… necessarily.” 

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?” 

“Doubt it.” 

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.” 

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.” 

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?” 

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.” 

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her. 

“Zero two one four eight eight.” 

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then. 

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so. 

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear. 

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?” 

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?” 

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.” 

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok. 

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack. 

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.” 

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?” 

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.” 

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.” 

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.” 

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.” 

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him. 

Seconds twist under his skin. 

The minutes lodge inside his throat. 

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop. 

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed. 

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka. 

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially. 

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting. 

This time it’s different. 

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you. 

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless. 

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

A burden. 

What a load of shit. 

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere. 

Of fucking course he would choose you. 

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second. 

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all. 

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started. 

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death. 

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks. 

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?” 

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?” 

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt. 

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den. 

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display. 

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia. 

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.” 

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?” 

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly. 

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear. 

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink. 

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.” 

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA. 

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?” 

“No.” 

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” 

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him. 

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.” 

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.” 

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?” 

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.” 

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip. 

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Can I pick out your hair?” 

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.” 

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.” 

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist. 

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character. 

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream. 

Thank fucking god. 

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor. 

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster. 

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass. 

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding. 

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something. 

Seriously. 

He has no jurisdiction here. 

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle. 

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore? 

Eating. This. Shit. Up. 

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby. 

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave. 

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations. 

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here. 

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame. 

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?” 

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.” 

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light. 

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo. 

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects. 

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.” 

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.” 

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition. 

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit. 

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare. 

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side. 

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.” 

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.” 

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?” 

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.” 

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…” 

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word. 

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?” 

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.” 

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.” 

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck. 

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.” 

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?” 

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.” 

“I am not that drunk.” 

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.” 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo. 

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.” 

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?” 

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.” 

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar. 

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes. 

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble. 

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?” 

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”  

“You guys do this often?” 

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.” 

“Cute,” Dieter mutters. 

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?” 

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.” 

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day. 

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train. 

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out. 

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse. 

Wouldn’t it make you feel better? 

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him. 

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman. 

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar. 

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken. 

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon. 

There’s something else, though. 

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles. 

Anika and Dieter. 

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York. 

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while. 

But it would have faded. 

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you. 

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star. 

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is. 

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation. 

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore. 

—

Sometimes things go sideways. 

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony. 

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged. 

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table. 

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend. 

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband. 

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever. 

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.” 

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission. 

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?” 

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.” 

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.” 

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him. 

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention. 

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave. 

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence. 

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning. 

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens. 

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing. 

You are fucking everywhere. 

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales. 

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind? 

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself. 

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline. 

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part. 

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet. 

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval. 

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances. 

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one. 

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life. 

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger. 

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence. 

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?” 

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head. 

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.” 

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.” 

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.” 

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?” 

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.” 

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him. 

He releases a big sigh. 

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles. 

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?” 

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.” 

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.” 

“Got it.” 

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door. 

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door. 

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.” 

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?” 

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running. 

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt. 

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs. 

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.” 

[ Next Chapter ]

[lualuabestningdungie]

Less talk, more kiss | K. Taehyun

Synopsis: the two best in the drama club are about to share the “worst” scene together.

Genre: fluff, non idol au, high school au

Pairing: non idol! Taehyun x gn!reader

Warnings:: mentions of kissing, bit of angst, might have grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

Lua’s note: Hi hi! Here’s a Taehyun Drabble for you! I’m very sorry I haven’t been uploading much as I used to :( I just entered school and it’s already consuming. Anyways school should disband.

-

“Absolutely not.” You thought that having the main character in the play would be fun. It was until your ex best friend Taehyun was casted as your costar. “I will not have a kissing scene with him.”

“You think I want to?” He rolled his eyes. “Not everyone wants to kiss you, you know?”

“Can you please just get along? We need this scene! It’s important for the play!” Your senior Yeonjun said. He was one of Taehyun’s friends but he was also yours. And he was also director of the play.

You were in the same friend group, but things got difficult between you and Taehyun, making the group separate. This was weird for everyone since you and Taehyun were friends since childhood.

“Can’t it be a hug or something?” You said hoping that someone would agree.

“A handshake would be better.” Taehyun said and you ignored him.

“I’m sorry guys, but I am directing this play and I decide what happens.” The both of you sighed and nodded.

After rehearsal you went with your friend Kai to tell him about what happened.

“I still don’t understand why you two started hating each other.” Kai said while you two walked together.

“I told you Kai, it was his fault.” You stubbornly said and kept walking while Kai just sighed and followed you.

It might’ve actually been your fault too.

A few months ago, Taehyun and you were best friends but everyone thought you two were dating, since you were always together and were always very close. The thing is none of you denied the rumors or the questions that people asked you, you simply avoided it and change the topic. You knew you liked each other but never did anything about it. There was always endless flirting between you two which made both of your hearts flutter.

Which was why you were so confused when he suddenly started talking to another girl and started leaving you behind. But it was not any girl, Da-eun was a girl in your class that for some reason always had some sort of hate towards you. She was popular for being pretty and sociable, but you knew her truly.

Both of Da-eun’s and your parents were friends so you would often have dinner with them. You knew she was just a spoiled girl that always got what she wanted. And did some reason she always envied everything you had. Including Taehyun.

Your heart ached when you saw Taehyun getting closer to her. He knew you didn’t like her and she didn’t like you, why would he do it?

You confronted Taehyun about it and he just said that she was actually a nice person.

“I don’t get why you don’t like her, yn. Maybe if you gave her a chance you would know she isn’t that bad.” He said as you two talked away from your friend group.

“I can’t believe it, Taehyun. A few weeks ago we were both agreeing that she was just an annoying spoiled girl, and now you’re both inseparable.” You rolled your eyes at the thought.

“Whatever yn. That you don’t like her doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t like her either.” He said crossing his arms.

“I know, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that you didn’t like her and now you’re in love with her or something.” You sighed.

“If you opened your eyes you would know who I’m in love with.” After saying this he walked away.

He left you there surprised at his words, but he didn’t talked to you the next day. You didn’t try either, your pride was too big.

You sighed when you remembered this. Life got boring when your friend group separated thanks to you. Yeah, you still had Kai, but you missed him. You didn’t admit this out loud of course.

And every time you saw each other, both of you would roll your eyes and continue walking avoiding each other. When you were forced to interact it always ended up in a fight. You wanted to get into each other’s nerves. But you didn’t see a point on it anymore. Somehow doing those things made you feel worse. You missed him.

The next day you had rehearsal. You were at the theater reading your script and practicing your lines by yourself.

“Hey.” You looked in front of you and Saw Taehyun. “Yeonjun said we needed to practice together.” You just nodded and he looked at you weirdly as if he was expecting you to insult him.

“Alright then.” You said and he nodded.

You started practicing together. It was very awkward, but you two were great at acting so it was hard to notice. At least for some people.

“Guys, please step closer to each other, you need to be more connected!” Yeonjun said, he had been scolding the both of you for the past 20 minutes. “You know what? I think it’s better if you practice alone. The both of you need to solve whatever it’s going on.” Yeonjun stood up from his chair and left the both of you alone on stage. No one else was there, everyone had left early that day.

You looked at each other awkwardly.

“Well, uh I guess we should continue.” Taehyun said and you just nodded. You continued practicing all your scenes together, and you did improve a little.

Until you reached the kiss scene. You were so immersed in your parts that you didn’t realize that the kiss was next.

“The moon knows how much I missed you…” Taehyun read from his script and stepped closer to you taking your head, just like the script said.

“How does she know about us?” You continued with your line also stepping closer to him letting him take your hand in his.

“I’ve told her, every night I tell her about you, about how much I missed seeing your face underneath her light, about how I missed seeing stars reflected in your eyes…” he continued. Taehyun felt a his heart ache while saying this. He wasn’t acting anymore, he really felt that way. He missed you. “I miss talking to you, I miss your smile and our late night talks, I miss the person I fell for.” He stopped reading and looked at you in the eyes.

You realized that last part wasn’t on the script which made you feel chills down your spine. “Taehyun thats not on script…-“ you were interrupted by his lips on yours. Your eyes widened when his lips touched yours, but you slowly closed your eyes.

After a few seconds you pulled away slowly. You were both blushing and looked away from each other.

“I’m sorry about everything, yn. I never should’ve stopped talking to you. I should’ve listened to you..” Taehyun said still holding your hand. “You were right about Da-eun, she only used me to get closer to Yeonjun.” He lowered his gaze. “I really liked you, but you started hanging out a lot with Kai and I thought that maybe you were seeing each other, so I guess I got a little jealous. And well, you know… all the Da-eun thing happened…”

You only looked at him, your heart was beating very fast, and it was beating for him. The feelings you had were here again, and they were here to stay.

“I still like you, yn. It hurt that we didn’t talk anymore. I joined the play to be closer to you, yeonjun helped me with that. In hopes that we could talk again.” He said shyly.

“Taehyun, I am sorry too. For everything, I should’ve listened to you. I probably should’ve talked with you about my feelings before, because I liked to too, and I still do.” He met your eyes. “Kai and I are just friends, just that. My heart always belonged to you…”

He pulled you closer and hugged you. He held you tightly. “Let’s stay together now, okay?” Taehyun whispered in your ear and you nodded.

Suddenly someone entered the theater and saw the two of you.

“I don’t know what happened but I’m glad it did.” You turned to see who it was and it was Yeonjun and Kai standing in the door.

“Great job casting him into the play, Jun.”

-

[izicodes]

Hiya! My name is Izzy-Loa, and a Jr Web Developer and today, I thought it would be a great idea to just share my own personal coding journey! I have answered a lot of asks in the past about how I recommend other people to start their coding studies, what websites to learn from and roadmaps etc. But one question I kept having to repeat myself answering is the "Okay how did you get started?" - it is completely my fault not writing this down properly~! (I did actually)

Anyhoo, I'll just speed through my journey, sharing what I learnt at what times and what I'm currently doing now! ✨

☆ Starting from Scratch

I started coding back in 2017 during the summer break when I was just 15 years old. At that time, I didn't even know what coding was! It was my dad who suggested that I learn HTML. I hesitated at first, thinking HTML was some "complex high-level programming language". Little did I know, it was just a markup language...

I started with HTML and then moved on to CSS during that summer. However, once school started in September, I set coding aside and forgot about it. The following year, 2018, I decided to give it another shot and relearned HTML and CSS. But again dropped it because of school work and upcoming exams!

☆ The Turning Point

Fast forward to 2020, a year that marked a turning point!. I started creating websites using HTML and CSS. I briefly played with JavaScript but decided to focus on mastering HTML and CSS.

In January 2021, I made a significant decision. I dropped out of school due to personal reasons and decided to fully commit to programming, plus getting my first remote job (non-Tech). From there, I gradually delved into JavaScript a lot more and even dabbled in Python along the way. My learning process was on and off, but I was making progress! Around this time I learnt Git and GitHub!

☆ The Apprenticeship

Around September/October time, I applied for an apprenticeship. My skill set included HTML, CSS, Python, and basic JavaScript. I got accepted and continued to learn Python, delving into C# and Java as well. It was a challenging but rewarding experience! Happily dropped Java towards the end!

At work, I also learned SQL, working with Microsoft SQL Server and MySQL. I even explored .NET Framework and ASP.NET. It was a lot to take in, but I embraced the learning process! The older developers at the workplace were super helpful and very experienced - felt as though they were happy to give me all their knowledge as best they could~!

☆ Expanding My Knowledge

During my apprenticeship, around October 2022, I decided to further expand my skills. I enrolled in a front-end bootcamp, where I revisited HTML, CSS, and JavaScript. I also learned jQuery, Node.js, npm, and even ventured into React. Though, due to not practising it enough, I forgotten React and Node.js~!

☆ My Ongoing Journey

Currently, I'm continuing to explore Python and experimenting with Lua. I'm also revisiting JavaScript, jQuery, and recently, I've started working with SCSS (Sass) to streamline my CSS development - I highly recommend people in Web Development to learn SCSS!! I love it so much!

Looking ahead, my learning wishlist includes TypeScript, React, Vue.js, Angular, and C++. However, I'm not rushing into learning everything at once. I'm taking my time to absorb each language and framework thoroughly.

In summary, it has been a continuous evolution, from HTML and CSS to SQL, .NET Framework, and various other languages and tools. I've faced challenges and taken LOTS of breaks, but each step has brought me closer to becoming a proficient developer. I want to be better! But slowly and in good time!

Hope this was somewhat helpful to other people and yeah, have a nice day/night!

⤷ ○ ♡ my shop ○ my twt ○ my youtube ○ pinned post ○ blog's navigation ♡ ○

[wannaeatramyeon]

You know the SOS bath scene of the boys is fun but I wonder what about SOS bath scene of the female side which is all PTJ universe female characters.

Bonus: I want the boys to overhear the girl talk at the other side lol.

Heh. Love your addition of the bonus but no boys feature in this one unfortunately. Me?? Using this as another rant?? Never.

Women of Lookism: Bathhouse Meeting

Another breaking the 4th wall feat HTF girls. No male gaze! Feat boys here: SOS Men of Lookism: Emergency Bathhouse Meeting | Part 2 | Part 3

Zoe covers her chest.

Slowly sinking beneath the water until it reaches her chin. Never before having any self-consciousness beyond what was healthy, she now feels unusually exposed since her reappearance.

Reluctant to join in the conversation in case her friends show any resentment at the recent arc, even if Mira, Mary, Crystal, Joy, Lua, Leonn and Sophia have been nothing but kind.

Having the How to Fight girls joining their get together should have also eased Zoe's own doubts. However, her own insecurities plague what should be a relaxing evening together.

To everyone else, it is painfully obvious how apprehensive Zoe is. In solidarity, the girls work hard to make her feel better.

"Who gives a fuck?" Gyeoul pipes up, the complete opposite of bashful. Toes only dipping in the water, body sitting on the ledge and fully exposed.

Zoe wishes she had that kind of confidence.

"Yeah, we don't care." Crystal gives a small playful splash in her direction. "It was nice to see you again. And not your fault your body was drawn like that."

All the How to Fight girls nod vigorously.

"We're proud of you for breaking out at all and having a character arc," Mira beams, words sincere and earnest, "You're an inspiration!"

Bomi grumbles something about wishing she had a personality too as Joy and Sophia commiserates with that sentiment.

Well. Inspiration was definitely a reach. Yet having the vocal support of the girls certainly did help.

"Ugh," Mary groans, blonde hair piled on top of her head and face pulled into a grimace, "I'm dreading I might get my character butchered in the Cheonliang arc... if that ever happens."

Character butchered? Rumi and Gaeul share a nervous glance.

Leonn flexes her arm with a malicious grin. Body strong and capable. A result of years of hard work. "Don't worry. If that happens I'll kick PTJ's ass."

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question of Loyalty III

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Note: Another flashback chapter! This one is a favorite of mine 🖤 happy reading! Always appreciate the support 🥰

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

Life was surely stepping in in an incredible pace, for every day since the wedding you wanted to escape the place again, Aegon’s High Hill being your paradise, yet your downfall altogether.

“My daughter, I know I was harsh on you, a bit too much. You fought bravely beside us, not to prove yourself but because that’s who you are. This is for you.” Corlys said, handing you a handsome Valyrian sword, the pommel shaped by a seahorse.

“I thank you, father. It means the world.” You beamed at the sight of your new blade.

“How should you name it then?”

“Nightrider.” You put it back inside its sheath.

“By the way, Y/N…” Corlys was nigh hesitant to ask. “Now that your bother’s a husband. And Leana has taken a great interest on prince Daemon, well…” He chose carefully his words, not to appear pressuring, he did anyway. “Lords across the whole Realm have shown their fascination towards you. The son of Lord Tully, for instance. Houses Tyrell, Blackwood, Tarly, Costayne, Rowan… I could go on. You’re a comely lady, you ride a dragon, but, youth won’t last forever, my child. Don’t you want to form a family as soon as possible?”

“I wish a woman could mother a babe without a man.” You plainly answered, not sounding rude, however. Corlys knew better than prompt you any further, setting your mind already, too much alike your mother Rhaenys.

Moons flew by, and you continued dwelling in the matters of the heart, concerning both your childhood companions. Alicent glistened whenever she came across you, too bashful to comment about your “romantic, non appropriate encounter” on the night of Rhaenyra’s wedding. But you knew what it had meant to her, you had lit a spark that will not be easy for her to extinguish.

Having just woken up to start the day, a guard came to fetch you and escorted you to the Godswood, where Syrax’s rider solemnly awaited you. Haven’t spoken for weeks, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to react to her very presence, in that case.

“Princess Rhaenyra.”

“Riñnykeā Y/N, nyke istan hoping īlon could ȳzaldrīzes.” (Lady Y/N, I was hoping we could talk)

“Skoros iksos konīr naejot vestragon?” (What is there to say?) You blurted, in all honesty discourteousness was not your intent, but when you peeped into her eyes, it was like a shock to your heart, you were already used to the feeling. “I apologize for my bad manners, Princess.”

“I never meant to insult you, Y/N. Not even at my wedding… I don’t know why I said that. I would never consider you or treat you as my whore, let alone offend you by calling you someone else's. I guess I just... lost my mind. You were... my Lady, my equal. I'm truly sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive me and start over. It will be hard, I know, but I care about you a lot. I've lied to you, I've kept secrets, even confessing to you now makes me ashamed. If you hate me, then it's okay. The fault is mine and mine alone. You know, I've always wondered why they call me the Realm’s Delight when that title should belong to you. Any man or woman lucky enough to catch your eye is the luckiest in the Seven Kingdoms, in the whole fucking world. You deserve so much more than I can offer you. Bless se mēre bona gets naejot lua aōha prūmia.” (Bless the one that gets to keep your heart)

“Riñnykeā Y/N, nyke istan hoping īlon could ȳzaldrīzes.” (Lady Y/N, I was hoping we could talk)

“Me and Her Grace.” She countered.

“The Realm’s Delight fits only a Princess. And so happens you are the only one.” You strived to keep the Queen away from the conversation, because you are likely to give yourself away in one way or another.

“You are forgetting my little step sister.” She simpered.

“Helaena is the sweetest. I cannot wait until you and Laenor indulge me with a niece, isn’t that a marvelous thing to hope?” Nonchalantly you proposed, Rhaenyra titled her head to stare at you amusingly.

“You might beat me to it.” You shared an affectionate chortle.

The memory of your yet third reconciliation with the Princess comes to you in a blur, for only a few weeks later she announced she was with child. Your curiosity was at its hilt, you avoided such topics with Leanor, but it was fast… as it was expected of them.

Alicent had delivered another princeling, Aemond, Viserys named him. The first offspring of your brother and Rhaenyra came without a fuss, summoning your presence during childbirth, you abided, despite the ache buried within you, no time for being selfish, you whispered to yourself.

“He has your eyes.” Rhaenyra bespoke, swinging the baby in her arms, you pressed a peck on his little hand, he seemed to reciprocate your caress for he tangled his small fingers on your index one. “How should we name him?” Rhaenyra asked as if you were the other parent, not minding at all the midwives and handmaidens nearby, lost in her son and in you.

“Shouldn’t you… consult it with Laenor?”

“I have a few in mind.” She ignored your question, so you did too.

“Jaecerys.”

“That’s a name fit for a prince.” Said she with joy. “You’ll make a fine King one day, Jace.”

*********

You were perhaps too enthralled to notice, or perhaps you didn’t want to notice. Apparently everyone around you did. The Commander of the City Watch, Ser Harwin Strong, dubbed Breakbones, was a constant companion? To the Princess, seldom did he leave her side, being her sworn protector. He spent time of quality with little prince Jaecerys as well, what you paid mind only after the second birth of your brother’s child, Lucerys. You flinched at what it could meant. Was Rhaenyra seeking warmth on another man’s bed?

“Lady Y/N.” The Queen saluted you, donned in her usual green attires, you been neglecting her, but spending time with Princess Helaena, the introvert girl of four of age. Prince Aegon turning himself in quiet the troublemaker. “Helaena treasures her moments with you.” She watched her daughter dozing in your lap as a result of an hour playing with her dolls. “She won’t even play with me.”

“She’s a special girl.” You recited a sweet lullaby, remembering the letters Rhaenys sang for you as a toddler.

Alicent fought with all her might not to bring up Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin matter, concentrated instead on the sight before her.

“I’ve missed you.” She murmured not to disturb her daughter’s nap.

“I’m always here.” You responded in the same hushed tone, meeting her gaze, she knelt to where you laid on the floor, and eased in when you stroke her chin with delicacy. “Always”

**********

A year later, right after you returned to the Capital from visiting Laena and her twins, Queen Alicent was heavy with child once more, maesters wagered she was carrying twins, after an exhausting labor, she gave birth to a healthy male baby with hair as white as the snow, “Daeron”, he was named. Hence, the delivery has left her in a grievous state. The King was untroubled it would seem, for he wasn’t there attending to her.

“Y/N?” Alicent said with a fragile voice when she felt a hand on hers.

“Yes, my Queen. How are you holding up?”

“I’m afraid, what if I don’t survive this?”

You looked at her with fret. “You will, you will recover. You are to meet the new handsome prince you had delivered.” Tenderly you smiled at her.

“Would you raise my children, if something were to happen to me??” She uttered.

“Of course. But nothing is happening to you, not as long as I live, you shall be secure. I’d fight the Stranger myself if that’s what it took.”

“You only want to use that sword of yours.” Alicent japed. “I thought you were with Rhaenyra.” She winced.

“I wanted to be here.” You replied. “Even though, on my way I stumbled across her and Ser Harwin.”

The wet nurse came in with an inconsolable Daeron on her arms. “He won’t stop whimpering, your Grace. Perhaps if he sees your face, it’ll do.” Alicent shifted, trying to adjust to a more comfortable position.

“Oh my baby boy.”

“May I?” You gestured at the Queen softly, while the nurse awaited Alicent’s consent to hand you the babe.

“You may.” Little Daeron halted his cries once you took him in, you wiggled him and recited the same melody as with Jace and Helaena. “You’d be an excellent mother.” She later stated.

You've grown attached of the little princeling, you've taught him some of your mother tongue, you've played with him, soothed him to sleep. Alicent's heart swelled when she sees how fond you are of each other.

In his lodgings, he held a pair of wooden knights. “Mother mother!” Daeron exclaimed rather enthusiastic, it alarmed you a bit.

“What is it, my darling boy?” A worried Alicent gasped.

“This is you and this is Y/N.” He alluded to the stiff toys.

“Oh and who might I be?” You humorously asked.

“You’re the fearless dragon rider of the ancient Silverwing!”

“And I?” It was the Queen’s turn to comically inquire.

“You’re the damsel in distress, who’s seeking saving from her one true love.” He innocently said. You and Alicent look at each other expectantly, he didn’t notice though. “You are to rescue mother, get her to safety back to her home, you’ll defeat all enemies and armies with your dragon!” It is true that Viserys was never a parental figure to neither of them, he rarely visited them, even less did he play with them. “Can Y/N be my other mother, please, please?” He pleaded, and you doted on him.

“I thought I already was.” You joked and Alicent contemplated you in amazement, loving every second of the play pretending, wishing it could last forever.

You missed Daeron deeply, even though it has only been a few moons since he left for Oldtown to be Lord Hightower's squire, he took with him a bracelet with a little dragon in the middle that you gave him and his astounding hatchling (growing every day) Tessarion. He wept all night when he learned he was leaving, clutching to your leg tightly the next day and pouting until you promised him you would visit him as soon as you could, as long as he went and behaved like a proper prince.

“I love you, my silver boy.” You told him before he climbed into the carriage leaving you holding back tears with Alicent by your side.

Another two years have passed, and the Realm’s Delight pregnancy does not seem to be coming to an end. It's ironic, though. The women you love the most, producing heir after heir to men they do not exactly love, out of duty. Was it? You knew it was Alicent's case, you began to doubt the Princess'. You grew more and more fond of them, the "green" princes caring for you but not warming to you as much as the "black" princelings.

“Aunt Y/N! Can we go flying on Silverwing?” The lads begged excitingly, you whisked their heads and let them down slowly.

“I promise I will take you soon enough, when you are older.”

“We want to grow up fast to ride with you!” Little Jace exclaimed.

“You’ll be taller than me in no time. As of now, I’ll teach you how to give commands in Valyrian so both Vermax and Arrax get used to your voices. lua gīda, sōvegon, dohaeragon.” (Keep calm, fly, serve)

**********

“You shouldn’t have called for her.” You reprimanded Her Grace, she gave you a look and scoffed.

“I didn’t ask them to retrieve her. I’m ecstatic to make the acquaintance of my newest step-grandson.”

The truth behind why Alicent was doing this was to prove his point to you of all people; and to Viserys by all means. She’s spent years and years watching the Princess do as she pleases while taking advantage of being the heir, and bearing bastards in front of everyone's eyes. Hurting you, most of all. Neglecting your "friendship", knowing how much it hurt you that she was married to her brother, and now breaking her vows and lying with another man. Her insinuations had fallen on stony ears, she wasn't finished yet.

“You shouldn’t be walking in this condition, Princess.” With false politeness, Alicent expressed her concern. Rhaenyra looked beyond knocked out, sweating from head to toe, and your brother was upset, as well. You knew she was indignant that you were standing now with Her Grace, as if rooting for her or something of the sort.

“Have you picked a name already?” You cut the tension, while King Viserys arrived to proudly view his grandchild, as he had done before.

“Joffrey.” Laenor interjected ahead of the Princess, visibly confused by the sudden response of her husband. “We will name him Joffrey.”

“That’s an uncommon name for a Velaryon.” Alicent pointed out, peeking in between the pair.

“Lovely, nonetheless.” You attested.

“Yes, it is.” Viserys and Laenor chatted a bit whilst indulging in the sight of the newborn. Leaving you with a fatigued Rhaenyra on the settee, intending to get up to no avail, you offered your arm to her.

“I hope the labor was easy.” You said to her.

“Without you there, trust me, it wasn’t. Se dāria emagon mirre ao occupied se distracted.” (The Queen has kept you occupied and distracted) The Princess answered.

“īlon’ve issare both rather occupied isse bona case.” (We’ve been both rather occupied in that case)

“Would you mind speaking the common tongue in the presence of those who do not speak your language?” Alicent awkwardly said, catching the words “distracted and occupied”, annoying her.

“Sorry, your Grace.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, and turned to leave.

“My wife needs to rest. If you’ll excuse us. Your Grace, my King. Sister, would you mind accompany us?” The Queen gave you leave even though you don’t actually require it, she was irritated.

“Do keep trying, Ser Laenor; soon or late, you may get one who looks like you.”

You feel bad, guilty even, that Alicent does not cease on insisting about the same affair that began years ago. You also feel betrayed when you are in the same room as the Commander and the Princess, you can see the way he looks at her, how devoted he is to her, and how he has a special treatment with her kids. You’ve never approached Rhaenyra with this, nor has anyone more than Alicent being adamant on it.

“Mother, father! We’ve chosen and egg for the baby.” Jace said cheerfully, along with Luke. “Look, aunt Y/N, you like it?”

“I do, sweetheart. It’ll be a beautiful hatchling.” You admired the egg, and Luke hugged your waist to greet you.

“Off with you now, lads. Your mother wants to rest.” He urged the kids back to the Dragonpit to resume their training. Harwin was so deep in awe with the new babe and Rhaenyra looked apologetic when Laenor suggested you should leave the apartments.

“Y/N, a stroll in the gardens?” He offered, and noticed your gloomy resemblance, you threw a last glance at Rhaenyra before nodding and following him outdoors.

You didn’t ask Laenor more questions, nor were you eager to hear the answers he possessed. Despite of enjoying his own freedom, he was aware of things you were ignorant, ones you decided not to pay heed to save the torture.

“I was thinking… everything’s quiet here as of late. We should pay a visit to our sister and nieces. They’re still in Pentos. Sort of a… break.” Laenor suggested, you pondered for a minute.

“What of your wife and children?” You countered.

“They’ll be fine without me. They got good company.” He regretted what he said just when the words came out. “They are home.“

“I don’t know, Laenor. I of course do want to see Laena again. But being absent now does not seem like a good idea. The Queen is relentless.”

“She has no proof of anything, Y/N. They’re all mere false accusations to put his own son on the Throne. Don’t you miss flying with your favorite brother? I can’t hardly recall when was the last time we did so together. Oh I know why you’re reluctant! You fear again not winning the race between Silverwing and Seasmoke.” He jested, and you crackled hard.

“Oh yeah, you caught me.”

Later that evening, you approached the Queen and the young Princess, Helaena, who’s apparently way too focused on the worm on the top of her palm. Aemond was there too, all covered in ash and soot.

“My Lady.” Alicent addressed you, still upset, but now she was fuming.

“Bad timing?”

“Your nephews gave my son a pig.” Alicent hissed, holding Aemond close.

“What?”

“They were making fun of me.” Aemond shouted. “I’ll never have a dragon.”

“What have I just told you, my sweet son? Give it time.”

“My prince, if Silverwing does ever brings another clutch of eggs, I will personally deliver one to you, as a gift for your bravery.” You doubted your silvery dragon would indeed, as she’s an old one but whoever knows? You meant it though, the promise to him.

“Thank you.” Helaena proceded to show her insects to her younger brother, not a fan of them himself, he still paid attention to her.

“Those boys…” Alicent commenced.

“It’s not their nature. They’re gentle, kindhearted.”

“They resemble to you in those aspects. They might as well be yours.” For the first time, her clear resentment towards the children wasn’t one with rancour, you chuckled and so did she.

“Walk with me?” You strolled the small sunken courtyard, out of sight of creeping eyes.

“Is there a specific reason why you decided to bring us here, my Queen? You asked in an amused voice, she feigned offense.

“What are you insinuating?”

“That you want to kiss me.” She made a neutral face, and you began to think that you'd got it all wrong, that you'd misread the signs. "Alicent... -" With your guard down, she pulled you by the back of the neck and shut down your further ramblings, you reciprocated and as soon as she was done she hugged you affectionately.

“Sometimes I still wonder... if what I feel is a sin, if I'm a sinner for loving you this much.” You frowned, you observed that there was a battle going on inside her soul, inside her mind. She found herself thinking about her father, Otto’s words and warnings still echoing.

“Be careful with that girl, Alicent. She’ll destroy you.”

“Prepare Aegon to rule.”

“You cannot love another woman, you stupid, unholy child.”

“Aegon will be King. It is your duty to see it done.”

Trying to soothe her, you placed your forehead against hers. “It is not, I do not believe so. We are who we are, Alicent. We are true to ourselves, and that’s a brave thing to do. We embrace it, that’s why we get to feel alive, otherwise, we’d be empty.”

“I feel empty when I’m not with you.”

“Then you have answered your own question, my Queen." She smiled, and you planted another kiss on her immaculate lips.

*********

After an "incident" in the training yard involving the boys, you heard that Harwin beat the hell out of Criston, you were glad that he was put in his place after a lot of taunting and scorn regarding your nephews. You honestly don't know how you control yourself in similar situations. However, Breakbones is leaving the city to return to his duties as heir to Harrenhal. Rhaenyra and Alicent kept disagreeing on every issue, however big or small.

“Lady Y/N, I…-“ The silver-head does not seem to find the words to say, caught in her throat. “Pardon me, for bothering at these hours but, I want to say my farewells to you.” You were unable to register.

“Farewells?”

“I am leaving for Dragonstone, my lady. With the kids and my husband, your brother.”

“Is this because of the Queen’s-“

“A wise sailor leaves ahead of a gathering storm rather than try to defeat it.”

“Those are Laenor’s beliefs. You cannot-“

“I am serious, Y/N. It pains me, really it does. Jace and Luke too. But it’s better if we get some fresh air, different surroundings might do them good, Joffrey to grow up without the bitterness of the Capital. We cannot longer stand the increasing rumors, the gossip, the mounting threats and humiliation we have endured. I don’t even know what side you’re on, Y/N. You’re obviously torn. And it hurts.”

“Rumors or not, those boys are important to me. I adore them.”

“I know they are, and I know you do. I need to protect them from those who do not share your sentiment.” She gave a meekly half smile.

“A clever sailor finds the way to surround the gathering storm rather than to flee it.”

“Now, those are your beliefs. It’ll make the children happy if you bid them goodbye first light in the morrow.”

“I will.”

Has Rhaenyra stopped caring about you, has everything been spoiled by her feelings for Harwin Strong? You felt stupid, this started years ago. Since her wedding, she was never the same, and neither were you. Those were selfish thoughts, deep down you knew. Asking her to stay in King's Landing was too much, and you also knew Alicent would keep pushing it. Better that she went with her family to a safer place. It might help your feelings dissolve once and for all.

Just two weeks later, you decided it was your turn to think of yourself, and with suitors coming like hunters, stalking you every chance they got, leaving the court seemed appealing too, so you set off on your silvery she-dragon for High Tide to find the comfort of home, your parents and old friends.

Tagging: @loveislove4 @sophiexoxsblog

[sacredhyacinth]

Alright im back with a theory that I’m too tired to post in the comment section. (Warning, this is a long “lore” rant)

So we know that this animatic is canon, which provides a deep emotional insight. This is after “upgrade” and “ o sol e a Lua” , so I’ll go over those 2 first.

Upgrade involves Loretta…well upgrading, using some kind of magic in a temple(perhaps maidas?) that “upgrades” her power(??) and makes her go a little manic

O sol e a lua is an animatic with a bit of angst, and details the visual aspect of Gabe and Mari having a strained relationship, with the frame at the end being a tired Mari in the same outfit she has in upgrade.

So now, we can get to trust me not. This animatic is very interesting because now it gives VERBAL confirmation about Gabe and Mari’s increasingly strained relationship. Lines like “here comes the hero complex” from Lori and “I just want to help you!” From Gabe all are bright red waving flags that there is something else going on here. So what is this? It’s simple. Maida’s magic.

A long time ago, me and another theorist made connects to red = Maida. Obvious right? Well it red appears in many places, not just Maida’s magic. It appears on Roman’s glasses, on Maida’s gem(obviously), all things that are well, connected to her. And looking back at the color palettes for blood moon lori(aka what outfit Mari is wearing), there’s red. The gem is ON HER OUTFIT.

so naturally, in the end, Maida is at fault. Maida is pulling the strings, all of them. Hell, even the outfit in “upgrade” is an outfit descendants of Julius wear so that the ghosts believe that they(a female descendant) is Maida.

TL:DR- Maida pulls a lot of strings, even to Mari unknowingly. I’m very curious as to how this will be shown in the comic, and YES, I will look for Easter eggs.

MAYBE !!

I actually had to cut parts out of the song since it would spoil too much

[atolua]

𖥻  YUEHUA ˒ 𝐞𝐭𝐚.  spring  of  2023

EDITION .. shout out to mama zhang; thank you to papa zhang!

FEATURING .. lua’s teezers ˚ inka cherinsuk ˚ han jisung

CW(S) .. suspicious behavior from the boyfie, inka collects blackmail material  &  existence of cake and twister

MONA SAYS ..  sobs bc i posted this a week too early so pretend you haven’t seen this

at this moment in time, lua is craving for her bed. it can’t be helped; three hours of dance practice really wears a person out. and while the dinner that the girls treated her to was lovely, it barely pulled her energy up.

(but her tummy was happy so she supposes it did do something.)

“thanks for dropping me off,” she tells her manager before stepping out of the car.

while walking to the dorm, she rummages through her bag for her phone. a bit of lua hopes that she finally got a text back from her boyfriend, but it’s crushed by the lack of notifications.

tsk, there goes the rise of her suspicions.

it’s a rarity for jisung to leave her on seen. even when he’s in producer mode, he always sends at least a heart or a selfie.

lua shakes her head, dispelling those thoughts in favor of opening the door to her dorm. not even a foot in and she already feels wary because when has the place ever been this quiet?

is it already that late? she checks the time on her watch—kind of, but there’s usually at least one member who’s trying to keep their keyboard pressing to a minimum volume.

did they go somewhere? no, they’d shoot her a message if they did.. so what the fuck is going on?

“star? min? anyone home?” she cautiously calls out while walking down the hallway. with one hand tightly clutching onto her bag, lua turns toward the living room and blindly searches for the light switch. “i swear it was just here yesterday—”

“surprise!”

the sudden yells elicit the orange haired girl to jump back and drop her bag. when she comes down from her shock, she finally absorbs the scene: her members stand there with wide smiles on their face, party hats atop of their heads, and a red velvet cake in jongho’s hands.

and the best part? they have company.

“inka!” lua throws her arms around her best friend, pulling her in a tight embrace. (it doesn’t matter if she just saw the younger female a couple weeks ago, she still missed her a lot.)

out of the corner of her peripheral view, she sees jisung pouting, arms open wide. “hey.. what about me?”

“wait your turn, it’s not my fault yue loves me more.” inka playfully gloats, causing a river of chuckles to flow through the group.

wooyoung, never the recipient of best in assurance award for a reason, pats the sulking boy’s shoulder and tells him, “you’ll get used to it. we did after frequently hearing her fangirl over sunmi-sunbaenim.”

“don’t forget that for this past month, it’s been hourglass-sunbaenim.”

(yeosang’s another one who has never won that award.)

“alright, that’s enough tattling.” is what lua says once she finally pulls away from her best friend. “so what’s the cake for?”

“to celebrate your birthday, silly!” wooyoung cheers, his antics supported by mingi’s clapping.

“wait, it’s my what?”

this time, seonghwa speaks up. “today’s your birthday. did you not realize that?”

“..no?”

“well i guess we can consider this surprise a success. happy birthday, moonlight.” the eldest male gives her a small hug before stepping back to let san put a party hat on her, along with a greeting. “happy birthday, bambi.”

she pulls him in for a hug too and mumbles, “thank you, sannie.”

the party commences from there. after lua had blown out the candle on her cake (and got icing smeared on her face, courtesy of jisung and wooyoung, who got the same treatment) everyone had scattered across the living room. some were enjoying a slice of cake, a couple were arranging the gifts that had been hidden in the spare room, and others were chatting with the birthday girl.

“so this is why you seenzoned me, hm?” she teases her boyfriend who splutters, the apples of cheeks slowly blossoming into a rosy tint.

yunho laughs at the sight and inputs, “it was quite the scene, he was panicking so much that he almost dropped his phone.“

“i just didn’t wanna ruin the surprise..” jisung weakly defends himself before deciding that hiding his face in the crook of his girlfriend’s neck will save him.

(judging by the keep it pg guys! that wooyoung throws at them, it does the opposite. though the remark yeosang slides in on their behalf kind of soothes the embarrassment.)

everyone appears to be having fun, they’re seemingly enjoying themselves, especially due to seonghwa pulling out the twister game.

“when did hwa even purchase that toy?” she whispers to hongjoong who shrugs his shoulders. “i think we should be more worried about what will happen if mingi has to put a hand or foot on the red circle.”

sure enough, the blonde giant decides to forfeit rather than risk the chance of ripping his favourite joggers.

but lua doesn’t watch much more after that, not when she notices someone missing from all the fun. so after giving her slice to hongjoong, she heads over to the dining table, where inka sits all by herself.

“knock knock~” she raps her knuckles on the surface before taking the seat next to her. noting the small jolt in the younger, lua lightly jokes, “i’m no telepath but i feel like you have something you’d like to tell me.”

inka gives her a small smile. “i was just thinking of how grateful i am that you came to train at jyp. accidentally walking into that practice room was a blessing, and i’m not ever going to take it for granted; not when it gave me you. it doesn’t matter what else life decides to throw at us, i’m always going to be here for you, and i have faith that you’ll do the same for me.”

lua tugs at the sleeves of her cropped cardigan to wipe the tears that fall from her eyes. then she takes her best friend’s hands in hers and promises, “regardless of what happens, or where we find ourselves in the future, i’ll never stop supporting you.”

she quickly swipes away inka’s tears, aware that she doesn’t want the others to see, and pulls her in for another embrace. her hand gently caresses her back, a gesture she’d always do whenever she wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know what words to use.

they stay like that for a little longer before jisung yells out, “i won!”

the two girls decide to vacate the dining room and watch the winner be congratulated by his rivals. seeing as how they didn’t really have a prize, hongjoong concocts an impromptu reward and whispers it to seonghwa.

the older member seems to agree with it, for he smirks slightly. “and now, you shall get a kiss from the birthday girl.”

“huh? but is she okay with that? i mean yeah- yes she is my girlfriend but-” a kiss on the cheeks is all it takes for the blushing male to malfunction.

a click rings through the room, followed by inka mumbling, “saving that for future confidential purposes.”

laughter follows suit again. “alright, next round. winner gets a hug from the birthday girl!“ hongjoong announces, shortly sticking his tongue out at the light smack lua delivers to his arm.

at this moment in time, all lua craves is to have this.. night (or is it considered day?) captured in her memories. because moments like these have energy surging through her body.

and those ten people, the ones who try to keep their balance while intentionally bumping each other, a couple merely spectating while eating cake, plus the one sitting next to her with his hand entwined with hers?

they are one of the reasons she doesn’t regret choosing this life.

❑ TAGLIST  ..   @stealanity​ @ateezivy​ @cixrosie​ @alixnsuperstxr

[me-chaaann]

Why is Moon Knight the best MCU series so far?

-//-

Por que Cavaleiro da lua é a melhor série do MCU até agora?

(In English and Portuguese below)

MCU has explored various types of series so far, some more serious than others, or more action than others, some with a lot of character development, some not so much, and so on. Let's understand why Moon Knight stands out among them all:

-> It is a series that runs away from the themes already shown in the MCU. It brings a different way of telling the story which brings more diversity to the Marvel catalog.

-> It is the series that most develops its characters during the journey. Steven was able to understand Marc and accept the fact that his mother was dead in addition to comforting Marc after everything that had happened. And Marc opened up to Steven and finally understood that what happened was not his fault and that he deserves to continue living. It's the series with the most in-depth character development in the MCU so far.

-> The series also fulfills its main purpose. It was the first series of an unknown character. Its goal was to introduce this character and show how he came about. And over the course of the series, we see the Moon Knight develop and understand his own actions and past, as the Moon Knight is Marc/Steven. The series concludes with the character ready to face the future and solve the problems that will arise.

-> There are important and different themes in the series, such as Egyptian culture, dissociative identity disorder, childhood trauma, violence from parents and a deep psychological analysis through the psychiatric hospital. Original themes that make the series unique, different from the frequent themes of the MCU.

-> The action is inventive. Moon Knight uses different tools created by magic from those seen in the MCU so far in addition to Mr. Knight also using it and having his own fighting style. In the final battle, it is possible to see the combination of the two skills, making the fights more interesting and original.

-> The Egyptian representation without stereotypes was also demonstrated in addition to the series director being Egyptian. The soundtrack also had links to Egyptian culture and blended in very well with the series as a whole.

-> The secondary characters were also well developed. Layla played a pivotal role not only in the final battle, but throughout the entire series.

-> The villains had layers of morals, believing they were right until the end, with no regrets. The series showed its strength also through the villains Ammit and Arthur, who maintained a consistent role until their death.

//

Em português:

O MCU explorou vários tipos de séries até agora, algumas mais sérias do que outras, ou com mais ação que outras, algumas com muito desenvolvimento de personagem, outras nem tanto e assim por diante. Vamos entender porque Cavaleiro da lua se destaca entre todas elas:

-> É uma série que foge das temáticas já mostradas no MCU. Ela traz um modo de contar a história diferente o que traz mais diversidade ao catálogo da Marvel.

-> É a série que mais desenvolve os seus personagens durante a jornada. O Steven conseguiu entender o Marc e aceitar o fato de que a sua mãe estava morta além de consolar o Marc após tudo o que havia acontecido. O Marc se abriu para o Steven e finalmente entendeu que o que aconteceu não foi sua culpa e que ele merece continuar vivendo. É a série com o mais profundo desenvolvimento de personagem do MCU até agora.

-> A série também cumpre seu principal objetivo. Era a primeira série de um personagem desconhecido. O seu objetivo era introduzir esse personagem e mostrar como ele surgiu. E, ao longo da série, vemos o Cavaleiro da lua ser desenvolvido e entender seus próprias ações e passado, pois o cavaleiro da lua é o Marc/Steven. A série se conclui com o personagem pronto para enfrentar o futuro e resolver os problemas que surgirão.

-> Nota-se temáticas importantes e diferentes na série, como a cultura egípcia, transtorno dissociativo de identidade, trauma infantil, violência vinda dos pais e uma análise psicológica profunda através do hospital psiquiátrico. Temas originais que fazem a série se tornar única, diferente dos temas frequentes do MCU.

-> A ação é inventiva. O Cavaleiro da lua usar apetrechos diferentes dos já vistos no MCU até agora além do próprio Mr. Knight também usar bastões e ter seu próprio estilo de luta. Na batalha final, é possível ver a junção das habilidades dos dois, fazendo com que as lutas se tornem mais interessantes e originais.

-> A representação egípcia sem estereótipos também foi demonstrada além do diretor da série ser egípcio. A trilha sonora também tinha ligações com a cultura egípcia e combinava muito bem com a série como um todo.

-> Os personagens secundários também foram bem desenvolvidos. A Layla teve um papel primordial não somente na batalha final, mas ao longo de toda a série.

-> Os vilões tinham camadas de moral, acreditando que estavam corretos até o fim, sem nenhum arrependimento. A série mostrou a sua força também através dos vilões Ammit e Arthur, que mantiveram um papel consistente até o fim.

[jxeward]

pov ╱ steven ward

Conciliar a faculdade de Arquitetura e o trabalho como guia no museu municipal não dava a Steven muita oportunidade de ajudar o pai na marcenaria. Restavam-lhe os finais de semana, dias em que colocava roupas velhas e se juntava a Albert. De algum modo, sentia como se estivesse pagando por todo o conflito que tivera antes com o velho pai. Atualmente, as discussões ficaram mais brandas. Steven passou a dividir com o pai um segredo depois que o encontrou caído no chão da cozinha, vítima de um episódio de pressão alta. Diante de um Albert fragilizado que implorou ao filho por sigilo (não queria que os outros soubessem e ficassem preocupados), não encontrou motivo para dar ao pai o desgosto de sua malcriação.

Pode-se dizer que Steven ficou ainda mais taciturno desde então. Andava sempre cansado, correndo de um canto a outro da cidade em suas diferentes tarefas, saía pouco com os poucos amigos. Passou a fumar maconha quase todos os dias à noite para dormir, recolhido no sótão onde fica seu quarto. Fazia o máximo para não se comparar com os colegas de ensino médio, que viviam se gabando de ter isso ou aquilo nas redes sociais.

Redes sociais. Steven mal mantinha as suas e Adeline sempre ralhava com ele, porque sentia a necessidade de fazer o irmão ser um pouco menos infeliz e um pouco mais sociável. Tanto é que, num dia desses, tomou o celular de Steven das mãos dele enquanto assistiam um filme e fez o download do Tinder. Steven a acompanhou com um olhar apático, pensando que era só apagar tudo depois; deixou que a irmã fizesse o perfil, colocasse fotos (antigas, porque não tinha atuais) e até que deslizasse aceitando e rejeitando as pessoas que apareciam.

Mas foi só três dias depois, quando Joel veio lhe buscar no museu para passarem um tempo juntos, é que ele se lembrou do aplicativo. Isso porque, enquanto colocava o cinto de segurança, o celular vibrou em seu colo com uma notificação e Joel, infelizmente esperto demais, captou do que se tratava. "You got a match." Disse, claramente zombando do irmão. Steven abaixou o olhar para a tela acesa e não reagiu. "Adeline's fault." Explicou simplesmente. Joel, é claro, entendeu de pronto que a irmã tinha feito o que fez mas, arrancando com a caminhonete, dirigiu um olhar de canto a Steven. "Não é ruim, sabe? Conhecer pessoas novas." O Ward mais novo respirou fundo. "Não começa, Joel. I'm fine the way I am." Joel ergueu as sobrancelhas e fitou a placa do carro da frente. "Just saying."

Mais tarde naquele mesmo dia, com o cigarro de maconha entre os dedos e iluminado apenas pela lua cuja luz vinha pela janela, Steven procurou pelo celular na cama, perdido nas cobertas. Sozinho, poderia se permitir abrir o aplicativo de relacionamento, longe dos olhares que o julgariam ou colocariam muita expectativa naquele simples ato. Não era mesmo grande coisa. Daria só uma olhadinha e depois apagaria. Era o plano mas, por algum estranho motivo, não o fez. Apenas desativou as notificações e largou lá no telefone, dizendo para si mesmo que não se importava o suficiente para checar, quando a verdade é que se importou o bastante para não deletar.

[aesrot]

HIS QUEEN IS UNWELL AND ITS HIS FAULT I CANT I CANT I CANT I AM SO ILL. Lua im going to be sick. His queen his queen his queen. His queen is unwell. His queen is hurting and he cant do anything because hes the reason hes hurting and shngxvnbmsnxcvbcnsagsfg

the more he tries to help the worse rand gets!! he needs to do something but his mere presence is one step closer to his queen's end!!! he needs to save him, he's his queen, his hive, his home, without him he's lost but there's nothing !!!!!!

[lollo-sw-br]

Guardians SW One-Shots:

Repair Team: A Big Project

the Mi-rae clan's repair team specializes in building large projects, but this would be the biggest of all.

- How are the robotic wings there Lee? - Lemi asked

- Everything in place Lemi - replied Lee checking some systems

- And the satellite Livia? - Luna asked

- It's working perfectly Luna - said Livia

- Is the control room ok Lydia? Lonnie asked. - All very well?

- Lua, help me here please. tracking systems are in need of adjustments - said Lydia

- I'm on my way there Lydia - Lua said - This system has been like this since yesterday.

- Finish what you need to solve there - said Loopy - we have to deliver this at the end of the afternoon

- ok Loopy - they all said

- Oh oh - said Lydia - gotta go, Poppa Wheels needs me why the water tank does not want to fill

- What happened to the tank? - asked Livia - That one fills up in less than 10 minutes, how does the water not want to fall?

- I don't know Lívia - said Lydia - I just know that my Super Wing needs me, I'm sorry I didn't stay to help

- No problem Lydia - said Lonnie - Help Poppa Wheels, and don't worry, we understand you

- See you later guys - said Lydia

- See ya! - they all said

World Aircraft Mechanic Shop

- Sorry I'm late my Super Wing - said Lydia arriving panting - What's the problem ?

- Lydia, honey calm down - said Poppa Wheels - you're about to lose your breath, what's the matter?

- I was helping my sisters and cousins ​​with a big project. - said Lydia - I came running here when I knew you needed me

- Lydia you I understand when you are busy in the mechanic shop - said Poppa Wheels - Now sit back and take a deep breath while I tell you what happened to the tank.

- Okay - said Lydia - get started to tell me what happened

- Well, I was going to lend the tank to Lira and the Diving Team and.......

WingsView City

- We're done! - Said Lonnie - Meet the Universal Robot!

- It looks great! - said Lua - Now we can use it for more difficult battles

- Perfect! - said Lemi - now let's rest girls

- Lemi is right - said Loopy - we are exhausted

- I close the mechanic shop - said Lee

- Thanks for that Lee - said Lonnie sleepy

Lee closed the mechanic shop but she was so tired that she forgot to lock the door and that's when Leonor appeared along with Lonally

- A giant robot? - said Lonally - he will be ours

- I'm going to this robot's control room and pilot it - said Leonor

- Let's go ! - Lonally said

Leonor and Lonally entered the robot and piloted it causing the workshop to be empty.

The next morning

The next day Lonnie let out a scream that could be heard from afar.

- Lonnie, what is it? - said Loopy

- What happened? - said Lua

- The robot is not here! - said Lonnie - he's gone!

- Who booked the workshop last night? - asked Luna

- It was Lee - said Lívia - She said she would close the mechanic shop

- She must be as tired as we are - said Lydia - she was sleepy and didn't notice the door was left open.

- You're right Lydia - said Lonnie - But who took the robot?

- See! A golden scarf! - said Lonnie - it was Leonor!

- The robot in her hands is a real mess - said Luna

- We have to retrieve the robot - said Lonnie - and find Lee, we haven't seen her since last night.

- Let's find them - said Livia

- Let's go fast! - said Lua

in another place

Lee didn't realize it, but she was in the World Aircraft mechanic shop, she had been hiding out of fear that her sisters and cousins ​​would blame her for the open door last night.

- It's all my fault - said Lee crying - if I hadn't left the door open none of this would have happened

- Lee, it's not your fault - said Poppa Wheels

- Poppa Wheels? - said Lee - How did you end up here?

- You're in my bucket - said Poppa Wheels

- Sorry I'm going out - Lee said getting out of the bucket

- You are not to blame - said Poppa Wheels - It was an accident

- Lee! - said Lonnie - what are you doing here?

- Sorry Lonnie - said Lee with his head down - I screwed up the project

- Lee, it's not your fault - said Lonnie - we were all tired and any one of us would accidentally do this. It was Leonor who took the robot and Poppa Wheels, gather the whole team to help us recover the robot, please

- Count me in Lonnie - said Poppa Wheels - and Lee, let's go home, you need help.

In the late afternoon

Leonor and Lonally started leaving WingsView in a real mess with the Universal Robot and soon Buid-it Buddies arrived to help

- Glad you came! - said Lonnie - Let's get our project back

- Lonnie, I must admit that you are great at building robots - said Leonor - too bad this one you don't go to your collection

- What do you think Leonor - said Lonnie climbing into Donnie's robotic armor - Let's get her Donnie!

- Here we go! - said Donnie

Neo tried to turn off the robot, but Lonally threw it away.

Lemi, Remi, Loopy and Scoop tried to surround the invention in order to get them out and it didn't work

Lydia and Poppa Wheels tried to shut down the robot along with Neo, but to no avail.

Lua, Luna and Lívia tried to crush the robot with ropes made of holograms, Astra, Astro and Rover went to help their Guardians but the rope broke and. Robot was out of control

Of all the efforts to recover the project, nothing worked, but Lonnie had an idea.

- Lee, Control, take it! - said Lonnie who threw the control that Lee caught him - Now use it and get Leonor out of the cabin.

- ok Lonnie - said Lee starting to move the robot

- What's going on, the robot is broken - said Leonor - what did you do Lee Mi-rae

- Fixed an error! - Lee said - Bon Voyage Leonor and Lonely!

the two were thrown out of the robot as usual and spoke

- We missed it, but we'll be back! - said Leonor and Lonally

- Super Wings Guardians Super Wings! - said everyone - We deliver!

WingsView Amphitheater

- Ladies and Gentlemen - said Lonnie - You are the Universal Robot!

Everyone was cheering after opening the curtains

- This robot is to increase our defense - said Lua

- And make battles easier! - said Lydia

- We put an extra function - said Luna - Music!

Lee was in control and made the robot dance.

- It turned out amazing! - said Lilith - besides being powerful, he is talented!

Everyone laughed and enjoyed the Mi-rae Clan's biggest project

The end ...