#other times it just is what it is & my mother is referencing it casually in conversation or my sister's joking about it

[insomniacmelancholy]

I think about this tweet once a week

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. For fic finder: Instead of the Sunshot Campaign it is the western vs eastern clans who war. WWX and LWJ are on opposite sides but they recognize each other as honorable. At one point they work together to stop a village from getting flooded/some natural disaster. After the war I think LWJ asks for WWX as a war prize? Thank you!

FOUND! Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

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2. Hello! I hope you can help me find this fic.

All I can remember is that it is a Post canon married life wherein wwx and lwj get into a huge fight (love quarrel). I think the fight was about wwx safety (lwj getting mad and so on)

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3. Hey, I would like to find a fanfic from the MDZS fandom that I once read on ao3. It was about how Jiang Cheng almost strangled Wei Wuxian after the lotus pier fell. He didn't help him, he just left him. He told others that Wei Wuxian was dead and did not admit to his actions. Lan Wangji then went to look for Wei Wuxian. He found him lying in the forest and thought he was dead. However, it turned out that the boy was still alive, but barely. He came back with him and I think that's when the truth came out and Gusu Lan became very protective of Wei Wuxian. I don't remember if it was a completed fanfic. Thank you in advance for helping me with my search. @braveavocadosstuff

FOUND? 🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

FOUND? Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

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4. Hello! For ficfinder, whenever you have the time. I have searched the female lan zhan/female Wei ying tag up and down for a fic I very distinctly remember reading. It was about a typical straight girl wei ying never org/asming, and so wen qing and mianmian set her up with well known lesbian icon Lan Zhan. And that conversation was in the fic summary, and there was a whole sequel with Wei ying coming out to jyl and jc. But I cannot find it, any help would be appreciated. (Even just finding out it’s been deleted)

FOUND! sideways by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 20k, wangxian, F/F, Modern, Cisswap, butch dyke LWJ, Casual Sex, not so casual sex, many many orgasms, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, strap-on sex, So much kissing, WWX gets rekt, straight girl WWX, except for how she isn't)

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5. Hi! Thank you so much for all you do. Could you help me relocate this fic in which wwx finds out that instead of QHJ, the twin jades were actually conceived by other elders that broke their mother's seclusion so wwx takes revenge on their and their mothers behalf and puts the fear of well, himself, into those assholes? I can't remember what it was called but I feel like it was from LQRs pov (could be wrong tho). Thank you!!

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6. There's this fic that I read so long ago and I wish to read it again but I can't seem to find it. it was Wangxian and Wei Wuxian had his own sect in the burial mounds and I think they come down to Lanling or Yunmeng for a ceremony or competition. A-Yuan is a competitor and so is Jin Ling, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian talk about what happened in the burial mound and how they had survived.

FOUND? The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, wangxian, slow burn, pining, yiling wei sect au, fluff & angst, dark, romance, WIP)

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7. Hello. I wanted a wangxian fic where lanzhan is the teacher and the juniors are his students. But they don't know that he is married. They make a group chat and later they get to know that lan yuan is lanzhans son, but he doesn't say anything about his other dad to his friends later when they get to know they ask him through chat.. At last they all get to know that jin ling is wei yings nephew. Its basically a chat type story. Please help me find it.

FOUND? Yearning by Sanguis (T, 9k, WangXian, LingYi, Modern AU, Professors, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Bunnies, Pre-Relationship Secrets)

FOUND? The Mystery of Professor Lan's and Professor Wei's private lives by SilverBells (G, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, online classes AU, Fluff, University AU, University second year LSZ, Humour)

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8. Hi!!! Luv ur blog sm! So I'm looking for a fic. I'm pretty sure its a twt threadfix where wwx d-words and reincarnates as a fox. Then he lives near cloud recesses with his fox family. He moved to the buny meadow and then later on ascends? or cultivates a human body becoming a huli jing. @fluffiestfluffer

FOUND! Pin the tail on the fox by RMoonberry (Not rated, 40k, wangxian, WIP, fox WWX, Reincarnation, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is too attractive huli jing, Light Angst, LXC is very naive, WWX & JC's reconciliation, the family feels, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, WWX is pampered, Typical Canon Violence, Spirit Animals, Shapeshifter, Canon Divergence, white hair WWX, Non-consensual drug use, historical inaccuracy, mythical beasts, Implied Torture, Inaccurate use of medicines)

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9. Very good, I love your content and I wanted to know if you or your followers could help me find some fanfic.

A) -I remember that a wangxian is about demons and angels where both sides are in conflict and lan wangji along with his brother his brother are the heirs of the angels and wei wuxian is the heir of the demons a succubus if not wrong and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet in the human world and fall in love even though their families are enemies.

B) - I don't remember if it was a modern Lan Zhan or Wang Jibo but it is about her traveling to the universe of ancient Mo Dao Zu Shi as Lan Wangji, second heir of Gusu Lan and how the world changes and her relationship with Wei Wuxian with her presence. and the decisions he makes, although I don't remember if he knows what world he is in or if he doesn't know what world he is in or if he was a wangxian or xianwang, that would be what I remember and it's a bit vague, sorry.

C) -and the last one is about the characters in mo dao zu shi are trapped in a room or it was a barrier well the thing is that they don't know why and they are made to see what a future would be like where lan wangji is the one who manages the resentful energy and what's more he is a xianwang.

I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, it's because I've been looking for them and I can't find them and I haven't even finished reading. You would be very helpful to me if you could help me. @alfithia

9A)

FOUND? The World Ends Eventually, So Come with Me by ValorousOwl (M, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Angels and Demons AU, Mpreg, Canon-Typical Violence, loosely based on Tete's Angels and Demons art, Succubus!WWX, Angel!LWJ, Eventual WangXian, and also past wangxian, I feel like I need to tag religious trauma, OOC behavior, Memory Alteration, Gaslighting)

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10. Hi! Please help me find this old fic. Unfortunately, i dont remember much. It's space au i think. WW wakes up in his space ship after long sleep (?). Then he found another spaceship and find out that spaceship hold many children. Those children is experimented to have an animal feature/abilities. There are the junior (i dont remember if its junior quartet or trio). WWX then rescue those children. Then he search for another spaceship that contain experimented children. There are cameo of hualian and bingqiu. I dont remember if its completed story or a WIP.

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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11. 👋 Hello

I'm looking for fics where wwx actually answered inquiry and people discovered the secrets and truths. Thank you 😊 @karinasnowwwx

FOUND? just because it's what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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12. I've got an oddly specific nsfw fic to find. There's a bottomji fic out there somewhere in which WWX asks LWJ to go soft during sex through sheer willpower? Fairly certain he manages it. I can't get it off my mind lately, so if anyone knows the title, I'd be very grateful! Thank you @kedaliya

FOUND! Shiver by anaphoricae (E, 119k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/sub, Dominant WWX, Submissive LWJ, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Brief mentions of LWJ/others and WWX/others, Co-workers, Praise Kink, POV LWJ, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Office Sex, Rope Bunny LWJ, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, Aftercare, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Blow Jobs, Snowballing, Service Submission, (but it's very light. like. they dip their toes in it), Lingerie, Jealous WWX, Subspace, Cock Rings, not a Subdrop but not exactly a Sublift either, Cock Warming, Collars, Angst, Power Play, Orgasm Control, Miscommunication, Face Slapping, Impact Play, Rigger WWX, BDSM fetish party, Public Blow Jobs, Rope Suspension, Cuddlefucking, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Choking, Body Worship, Jealous LWJ) chapter 3

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13. For ff: Hi! I am looking for a fic I read about two years back. WWX and the Wens planted a ton of red spider lilies (corpse flowers) all throughout the Burial Mounds. I think they started with just one or two but WWX carefully tended the bulbs and they flourished. They might have also been medicinal? I think the fic is set after WWX dies because I remember the other clan cultivators coming and looking through the town and being amazed at the flowers. Maybe Wen Ning was there too? Thank you!

FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, wangxian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of WWX's canonical abusive childhood)

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14. and if Lán Zhan | Lán Wàngjī placed in front of the sword in the tombs and not Jiang Yanli to protect Weiying.

Please, I've been looking for this Fanfic on Ao3 for days and I can't find it. @lluyvernno

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, wangxian, JC & JYL & WWX, LXC/NMJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Not Everyone Dies AU, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Loss, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

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15. Hello! I hope you are having a great day!

I apologize but I also hope you can help me find these 5 fics (I’m sorry) that keeps getting to my head (which made wanted to read again but can’t find it). Thank you so much.

A.) Juniors ask LSZ what does WWX look in his old body and LSZ paints him. Juniors did not believe that painting until one day WWX got his old body back and Juniors were shocked

B.) I remember LWJ travel back in time and ask people in gusu that he’ll stay there until his husband fetch him. I also remember young lwj getting jealous because young wwx is close to old lwj

C.) About juniors where in I think they are in a night hunt. I remember LSZ doesn’t want to remove his robe when injured because he doesn’t want the juniors especially jin ling that he is a wen and had the burned mark logo on his chest.

D.) Married wangxian wherein there is a Clan (full of girls) who are homophobics that needed their help. I only remember a scene where wwx got jealous and very angry because the girl from that clan keeps trying to steal LWJ from him.

E.) I remember people got wwx journal and reads it. And found out what his conditions and the whens. I also remember there is a page in wwx journal filled with Blood and really bad handwriting (i think it was the last page)

15A)

FOUND! Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut)

15B)

FOUND! 💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, First Love, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, teen wangxian meet adult wangxian, Happy Ending, Denial, Mutual Pining)

15D)

FOUND! Just As Much by Gemiblu (E, 23k, WangXian, Jealousy, Boys In Love, Homophobia, demonic cultivation bondage, Power Bottom WWX, Cockblocking, Semi-Public Sex, Crying During Sex, Intimacy, New World, Female Characters, Casual Intimacy, mentions of non-canon character death, description of violent acts, post marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Affection, supportive married couple, Pet Names, YLLZ WWX)

15E)

FOUND! dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy)

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16. Hi! Please help me find this fic. Its modern cultivation au where WWX, WQ, WN called for a night hunt by a mayor. They are not the only one called, the mayor called Lan clan too to solve a problem that related to Mo manor (?). WWX has a past with Lan clan that make him have a grudge with them. So, 10 years ago, WWX and LWJ has a mission that resulted WWX hospitalized. He is poisoned (a deadly one) and almost died. But he didnt recieve a care because he is fired by the Lan because he was reported many times of misconduct by LWJ. The Lan clan too claimed that they already give a notice email that WWX didnt recieved. Back to present, LWJ who only heard of that story start to investigate and found out it was Su She who made WWX fired from the job

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ's canonically big dick, sort of a 'thirsting for your co-worker ex' vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

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17. I have a description so I’m hoping it can be found bc I can’t personally find it myself for some reason: LZ & his brother are immortals who get caught up in a murder mystery w JC & WY. WY (& this I remember /super/ clearly) at one point sneaks into LZ’s attic & finds his old cultivation gear in addition to a portrait of YLLZ!WWX & is bitch slapped w/ memories of his past life. WY is on deaths door, also & LZ gives up his immortality so they can be together, as well. @arisuamichan

FOUND? I think this fic is "Monotone" by Seredemia and I think it was deleted. I only have a google drive link for it. The scene with the attic is in Chapter 19. -bluekittenfire

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18. Apologies for dropping this in right after you've posted a fic finder. I'm looking for two fics.

A) The first is where Lan Wangji, having learned Wei Wuxian has lost his core, uses an old technique that allows him to grow a second golden core (the idea being the user would absorb the second to make the original stronger), so he can donate one golden core to Wei Wuxian.

B) The second is where Wei Wuxian has been cursed or enchanted in some way that he can't remember Lan Wangji, who enters the Burial Mounds disguised as a new Wen so he can get to the bottom of it with the other Wens helping him in the ruse. There's a scene close to the end where he comes across Wei Wuxian being wooed by someone (think it was Su She) wearing his Wen disguise. It leads to a confrontation where Wei Wuxian tries to defend the false Lan Wangji against the real one and it leads to the spell breaking.

Thank you, and again, apologies for the poor timing!

18A)

NOT FOUND! 🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Lots of Angst, Hurt/Comfort, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect, Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

FOUND! these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, wangxian, fix-it, fluff & angst, happy ending, WWX gets a new core, hurt/comfort, slow burn, pining, canon-typical violence & gore)

18B)

I have recently read 18B 😭😭😭 I wish there was a way to filter search history. Can the asker please bookmark this post cause I'll come back there to post it when I find it.

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19. Hello hello hello

I am looking for a fic I’m 90% I found on y’all’s blog and I meant to bookmark it for later and I didn’t and so now it is lost. 😔. But the summary was something like a negotiation between WWX and LWG and WWX makes a joke that goes along the lines of “well if you want nothing else then I’ll have to offer you my body.” And then LWG’s eyes like darken or something and WWX is like “oh you do want that.”

I hope this is enough and makes sense.

Y’all do gods work btw and it’s greatly appreciated 🫡🫡🫡

FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, wangxian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of WWX's canonical abusive childhood)

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20. Hey :), I'm just trying to find an all old fic where Wei Wuxian didn't get torn to pieces and instead ended up immortalised. I half suspect that it was removed from ao3 but the details are as follows: wwx 'dies' but is found breathing, the cultivation world examines his body and finds him at gates of immortality essentially.

At this point JC figures out the core thing because they build a shrine for him and bring suiban (still sealed but he can remove it) and LQR does too (independently examing the body). When demonic cultivation starts being a problem again LQR starts a rumour that they need to "fight fire with fire' and efforts begin after 13 years to resurect Wei Ying. He wakes up mad, storms into a conference and LWJ follows him out when he storms out. He bumps into Jingyi at the koi tower steps, later down the line adopts Mo XuanYi from the Mo village (joking that his name is stranger isntead of saying hes the YLZ), end up wearing lwj overrobe at one point and finally once again travelling with LY and LJY.

Plot really picks up when they enter the town which was affected by the demonic cultivation. It is deserted, but they encounter the being that tormented him in the burial mound, XY, and other new-immortals. Its revelead immortality is gained through suffering like WWX had and he's forced to accept a demonic core to save JC and JL. He dies once again in Gusu but LWJ keeps pooling qi into him, which makes his resurrection faster.

I'll stop here cause this is getting a bit long, but I hope this is enough for you to help me find the fic. THANK U SO MUCH! @geminimind05

FOUND! If One for you, then One for us by KusakabeNAyako (T, 85k, wangxian, WIP, Canon Divergence, WWX has no time for your shit, He died alredy leave him be, fucking up canon, WN is precious Cinnamon roll, WWX is precious cinnamon roll, Rape/Non-con Elements, YLLZ WWX)

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[seijitheclown]

Who is the Bookman waiting at the Campbell Residence?

I'm back with another theory that bugged me for the last two days I need to put it down. This theory here will contain spoilers regarding Chapter 249/251!

So my theory starts with the following information from the panel above (both from Chapter 222). Lucia says "Bookman has woken up" and:

This scene takes part as Allen was found by Kanda/Johnny, as Allen is on the run for 3 months.

The implication here that it's "just" Bookman. Well, ... which Bookman? As Hoshino confirmed in her last Broadcast Bookman and Lavi are hold hostage for about 4-5 months which will be learn later on, that means around this time of the Story Bookman is still hold hostage by the Noah, same for Lavi.

And for now we know that Lavi will return but not "the same as before". So he is not dead (now), the referenced Junior is Past!Bookman Junior (PBJ for short). There is only one Junior per Generation, so if one is gone another has to be born or the Clan is in danger.

So... who is it?

It's talked about that "Junior" isn't there anymore to carry on the collected memories but also told this will solve once Allen arrives, the scene takes part right after Cross(!) tells Allen to go to the Residence. Mother holds the other key with the Information regarding Zeugle after Allen tells her Cross appeared and told him about Katherina (and we have a huge hint that Cross is still alive by Mother).

So we have an injured Bookman in the twin's old home who was not conscious for quite some time. Bookman Sr. is not injured around that time as Desires just pressures him, Lavi is, but I doubt Lucia would address Lavi as "Bookman-sama" as he is only the apprentice so far, also Lavi is conscious despite being in pain.

You know who is also injured by that time and we all pretty much expect that he is not dead....? Cross. Who was/is suspected to be a Bookman/Bookman Jr even by a lot of people...? Cross. Who has a striking resemblence to Lavi? Also Cross (yes I know some suspect they are related).

Then we have another indicator: Urcampy. It could be that Cross either left Urcampy there (I love the theory both of the Twins have a Golem, but eh) and then we have the information that Cross uses a spell to appear way younger than he is. Another drop of information we got from the recent Broadcast (28.4.24) from Hoshino is that the girl in the panel above is indeed the Lucia we meet in Ch. 251 again and that it has something to do with the Residence. Could it be the same magic Cross uses? But in the opposite direction? To make her appear younger or older depending on how it's needed?

Cross walks upon the lines all the time, he can do as he pleases, he is above the law. He interacts with the Noah casually, Road treats him like an old friend (Vol 27) despite him having not only one but two Innocence (which is, another really interesting information), he has obtained knowledge nobody else has. He can modify Akuma, he uses a Corpse and her Innocence. Why is he not killed despite the fact he knows the true identity of the Earl? He is above the Black Order and Central makes a deal with him, yes he's a good Exorcist, strong and all that. But he doesn't get the "you are a traitor" treatment Allen got, ... what has he going on there?

We don't really know why he cares for Mana, how they met and whatever deal/relationship we have going on (no I don't really go for the Cross = Cyrus theory here). We know by now Cross most likely knew PBJ, but not Past!Allen. As he has no indication on what he looks like aside the age, not even a hair color, personality or anything else aside the information that an Allen is the host and that Mana got told that "Allen" is the key.

This fuels my theory that Master and Apprentice parted, one followed Mana and the other Nea to record their part of history as the both weren't able to engage anymore without trying to kill each other/the Noah side needed to regain anyways after Nea killed them all but the Earl/Road.

So I am back with this panel. This is a Bookman. But which? I had an tad of an idea that this could be 'our' Bookman in younger years but by now I think I was wrong.

Could this be Cross as his role as Bookman? One side of the face is hidden, just like Cross'. Also while we are at hidden face, I am by now sure that Cross mask is a reference to either the same mark PBJ has, or he has the same mark because he is the Master to even that PBJ. In one of the recent Volumes Allen is asked if Cross has a limited vision because of the mask and Allen denies (it's in Komui's Lounge in either Vol 27 or 28... i can't recall it rn I read too many things the last days) and says Cross has a very good vision and can see well despite the mask.

Another point is that Cross is not named Marian Cross, it's a fake identity. We basically know nothing about him. Other than he has forbidden knowledge, even about the hidden side of the war, something only a Bookman should have.

Does Bookman sr. knows? Well, I am not sure about that. In Ch. 251 it's mentioned that not all of Zeugle know each other, they could be fighting each other in the same war until they reveal they are from the Clan, so.. it's pretty much possible that the Order has basically 3 Bookmen among them.

Desires might address Bookman sr. that he was friends with the former generation of Noah but ... he can't access his Noah memories, therefore Bookman could play pretend and maybe truly doesn't know shit about Nea or he covered his fellow Bookman aka Cross.

.. so yeah. I needed to get this out of my head. I have literally no idea if any of this makes sense or if anybody would agree with me, but I am certain we have a different Bookman here and that the Bookman Clan/Zeugle play a way bigger role than we thought.

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 2

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 30k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, drug use referenced underage substance abuse), controlling/abusive parent, false positive pregnancy, reference to underage sex with an adult, depression, really bad coping mechanisms, loss of virginity, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, piercings, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex. Summary: The blurred lines of playing lovers and being lovers have been blurred for you and Dieter before, but it seems like this time you might be much closer to your characters than either of you want to admit. Notes: Guys this story came out of a silly little dream that I had about hanging out with a movie star and allllll this angst is what poured out onto the page. Keri is a magician at helping me unravel all my wild thoughts 🧡🧡 The play we used for reference as their Broadway show is “In the Next Room (or The Vibrator Play)” by Sarah Ruhl in case anyone is wondering!

It should have been useless to be anxious when you got to the theater that night, but you couldn't help it. After delivering terrifying-yet-somehow-still-exciting news to Dieter before your shift at the restaurant, and then that shift going disastrously badly because you weren't feeling well, you were just hoping you could talk to him and try to come up with some kind of plan. You'd been dating for ten whole months, for crying out loud. You love each other. Surely you could come up with some kind of pathway through your future that could allow both of you to have your careers and still love this– this baby that you had created together.

Baby.

For such a small word it's fearsome. The idea of being a mother is more daunting than anything you've ever faced in your life but with him? Dieter makes you feel like you can do anything. His praise is like armor that shields you from the world. From all the scary things and hurtful things and the things that make you unsure of yourself. With him, you're sure you can make this work. Which is why you sit on your anxious hands and wait. Wait and wait, wondering if he's running late to show tonight since it's well past call time.

******

Dieter’s hands shake, from the nerves, too many cigarettes and fear when the phone rings and his father’s name comes up on the screen. He should have known he would find out quickly. The Hollywood circle is far smaller than people believe and Baxter Bravo was still in the center of it despite his ‘retirement’ ten years ago. “Dad.”

"Dieter." The elder Bravo coughs halfway through his son's name and doesn't bother to cover his mouth, making a hideous sound through the phone line. "You got a call today, unless I'm mistaken." And Baxter Bravo is never mistaken. "It's a good role. Decent enough, anyway. I'm having the maid air out your room."

“Yeah.” Dieter hesitates, still reeling over your news and honestly piss scared about it. “I might not take the roll.” He admits, knowing his father will disapprove. “I just found out that my girlfriend might be pregnant.”

"Don't be stupid." His father scoffs, the derisive laugh making him rattle. "Of course she thinks she's pregnant. How else is that pitiful little corn-fed thing supposed to get you to stick around?" He had met his son's paramour only once – at the opening night festivities that he attended with an appropriate smile on his face despite loathing Broadway – and he had been glad to forget the girl's name immediately after. "You can't possibly think she's serious. Of course you're taking the role."

“Dad, I love her.” It terrifies him, but he actually loves you. It had started out as something casual, a way to feed his ego and to get laid but there was something about you. He hadn’t gotten bored within weeks like he had expected. And watching you mature as a performer made him give serious thought about giving up acting and becoming an instructor. The only thing that stopped him was dear old dad. “I’m happy on the stage. The audience is amazing.”

"I knew I never should have let you go out there." Baxter huffs and loudly smacks on the end of his cigar. "I know she's been an amusement, Dieter. And that's fine. But you've been bred for far better than some mid-Western virgin and a smattering of applause. There is no immortality on the stage, son. Besides which, I've already accepted the role for you. So you'll come home immediately and I will graciously forget that you considered being disobedient."

“I’m fucking twenty-six, Dad!” Dieter shouts, frustrated that his father isn’t listening to him. Though that wasn’t unusual. He didn’t listen when he told him he didn’t want to act at six, or that he just wanted to go to school like a normal kid. Definitely didn’t listen when he said he wanted to go to school for art.

"Whatever does that have to do with anything?" His father asks, confused by the assertion, but rambles on before Dieter can reply in any way or shape. "I've had the attorney inform your landlord that you'll be out in forty-eight hours, and your airline ticket is being held at the service desk for when you arrive tomorrow. Noon flight, and if you're late I'll have to pay a fee to have the fare transferred to another flight, so please don't be a nuisance about it."

Dieter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” He decides. “I’m going to stay here.” He tells his father firmly. “I can’t leave her if she’s pregnant.”

"She's not, though." There's boredom in his father's voice, as though Baxter has gotten tired of even having to speak to his own son. "She's a poor girl trying to trap a rich boy in the oldest way possible." A lazy puff of smoke curls out of his mouth and he sighs drearily. "But I can simply cut you off, if you're so determined to prove a point. Raising a bastard child that may or may not be yours on the streets of New York ought to be fun for you. Homeless and self-righteous. Is that what you want?"

“My money is from my acting when I was a child!” Dieter doesn’t know exactly how the money gets to him, just that he gets a healthy check every month.

"Your money goes through me." The reminder is as dark as it is serious, making his father's chuckle on the other end sound even more ominous. "Every cent you've ever made has gone into an account managed solely by me, Dieter. One call to a doctor and I can have a conservatorship in place faster than you dial a telephone. Pack, Dieter. Pack and come home to take your rightful place here or I will force you to. Am I making myself clear?"

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, running his hand through his hair as he paces in the apartment he had called home for the last three years. Knowing that he can’t see you, he’ll stay if he does. He’ll lose everything.

“You are a Bravo.” His father reminds him when he doesn’t say yes right away. “You will do the right thing, you have a family legacy to uphold.”

Closing his eyes, Dieter's lip trembles and he imagines your face. Tries to imagine it when he tells you he’s leaving and the way you would look so heartbroken. He can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t do it.

“Yes sir.” Dieter responds woodenly, hearing his father’s satisfied grunt on the other end.

“See you tomorrow.” Baxter hangs up the phone, satisfied his son will do as he is told.

******

"What do you mean he's not here?" You're supposed to be face to face with Dieter right now. Places has been called and the curtain is about to go up, but you're standing with his understudy and the stage manager on the verge of tears. It's worry more than it is anything else. If he's not here, is he okay? Is he hurt? Sick? Anything could have happened.

“He got the call.” The stage manager knows the two of you are sleeping together, everyone knows. It hasn’t been a secret for the entire run of this play. Although he had expected Dieter to tell you what was going on. “He left for L.A. Apparently got the role of a lifetime.”

"He..." In an instant, your heart and stomach drop through the floor and tears well up in your eyes. "He's..." The words won't even come, even breathing makes you feel like you're going to be sick all over the floor. "He's gone?"

“Shit, we’re about be ready for the curtain.” The stage manager looks at you with a mixture of pity and worry. It’s obvious Dieter didn’t say a word to you and just skipped town. Hating that he had to tell you the bad news and potentially interfere with tonight’s production. “Do you need a minute?”

"Ye–I–I–" The prop on the table a foot away from you catches your eye and you sob, loudly and openly. The baby doll is all wrapped up and swaddled to open the first scene. Just you and that little doll for a full minute until Dieter is supposed to walk out onstage to join you. But it won't be him. It won't be him on that stage or anywhere else, you realize all at once. When that baby doll in your arms is replaced with a real one, he won't be there either. "Stall." You beg, finally forming a full word as you throw yourself toward the nearest bathroom. "Two minutes!" You're a professional. A real professional, but you definitely do need to go throw up and rinse with a half bottle of mouthwash before you go out on that stage. He left you. He's gone.

Hiding in the darkest part of the theatre, Dieter keeps his hoodie up, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He knows that he shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to just walk away clean. To ‘wipe the slate clean’ like his father likes to say after so many of his misdoings or affairs when they were done. Getting to watch you perform rather than being a part of it. You’re beautiful, your performance even stronger than it normally is when he is your co-star. Making him realize that you don’t need him. Maybe you never did. All he had done was hold you back from your full potential. Right as the last curtain falls, Dieter turns around and heads for the exit. Away from New York and the one person who he had honestly loved.

******

In the month since filming began, an awkward truce has settled between you and Dieter. You don't openly antagonize each other any more, or even give each other the periodic silent treatment. You've become oddly respectful to the point of making it uncomfortably polite for people around you. The way the two of you tiptoe around each other is like the polar opposite of the way your assistants have become attached at the hip during every second of downtime that they have. Sadie and Desiree are possibly the sweetest couple you've seen in a long time, and as happy as you are for them, it makes you ache in the deepest corners of your heart and mind.

Dieter is in hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You don’t insult him. You don’t ignore him. You’re polite to him. Making his skin crawl as he remembers all the times people were sickeningly sweet to him only to want something, but he can’t figure out what you would want besides this movie to be done. Snorting coke only goes so far and he’s almost bored with getting blitzed every night after filming is done, knowing you are next door and hating himself for wanting to go to you.

"I wish you would tell me what's going through your head." Sadie had asked you this morning, when you blankly accepted the cup of tea she handed you. Your anxiety had been high lately so she had insisted on cutting back on your caffeine intake. "You know you can talk to me." You can talk to her. And you probably should. But the fact is that you can't really find the words for what you're feeling. Being polite to Dieter is the only way you can get through the day without wanting to go to him and you can't do that. So you've just sort of...shut down. Everyone on set gets perfect manners from you, and no one can see the riot going on inside you.

Sadie frowns slightly and sighs, knowing you won’t open up. Ever since that first night, something has changed. “Let me go help Desiree.” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “Make sure he didn’t OD.”

"Is it really that bad?" You can't help the way your head pops up at such a casual remark, or the fear in your eyes when it does.

“It’s not good. Something– I don’t know. Desiree said he’s just given up.” She told you that she would tell you anything about Dieter, but she’s been hesitant to bring it up. “All he does is sit in his room and get bombed on whatever he has. She’s had a hard time getting him to eat.”

"I thought he'd lost weight." It's not as though you haven't paid attention. You spend most of every single day with the man. Blowing out a breath, you shake your head and stand up. "Will you do me a favor, honey?" When she nods, you wipe your hands on your pants nervously and return the gesture. "Order a pot of green tea and three shots of espresso to Dieter's room, and whatever Desiree says his favorite breakfast is. It used to be French toast, but I don't know if that's still true." Maybe you can get through to him and maybe you can't, but either way, you're going to try – and just hope you can keep your head on straight while you're at it.

“Okaaaaay.” Sadie frowns but she’s going to do what you ask of her. “It’s your day off today.” She reminds you. “You have tickets to the Tower of London and that tea room you wanted to try.” It’s been rare to get days off with the grueling schedule and luckily Dieter has sobered up enough to put in a spectacular performance everyday but it’s been rough.

"If it's my day off, then it's his day off." Considering you have very few scenes apart, your schedules tend to be identical. They won't be separate until you get to the location in France. "I–" When you turn to look at Sadie your eyebrows are knitted together in concern. "I'm worried about him," you admit quietly.

“Desiree is too.” She confesses quietly. “He’s – well, at least he’s been somewhat normal on set, but it’s been something.” She shakes her head, thankful that her boss wasn’t going through something like Dieter is, although Desiree is protective of him.

"She cares about him." It's good to see. And you do like Desiree a lot – she's a kind woman with fierce loyalties and a huge heart. And she looks at Sadie like she hung the stars in the sky. "I'm just...he might not want to talk to me. But I have to at least try."

“He might not know who you are, depending on what he’s taken.” Sadie warns you, aware that Dieter has done that with her quite a few times. “It’s fucking amazing he remembers his lines and the blocking.”

"I have to try." You reach out to squeeze her arm and head out the door, just to take six steps in the hallway to knock on his door. "Dieter?" His name is soft on your lips and there's no answer, so you try again. "Dee? It's me...can I come in?"

Dieter stares at the wall, not moving, not blinking. Barely breathing. Lost in his mind, fuzzy and muted. Barely hearing the sounds coming from the door. Staring at a single spot in the wallpaper that doesn’t match the rest. The pattern is off, just slightly. Like the wall was damaged and had to be repaired.

It's Desiree who opens the door, face drawn in concern. "It's not a good time," she tells you gently, glancing back toward the bedroom where Dieter is lying almost entirely catatonic.

"Sadie said he hasn't been doing well?" You're not about to let her close the door on you. Not when you're this concerned about him. You know things have been off lately, but that doesn't mean you're detached from it all. "I'm not here to chat or play board games, Des. I'm honestly worried about him."

“I–” Desiree bites her lip and decides to be blunt. “What happened that night? Did you see him? Did you talk?” She knows something had to happen for Dieter to sink this low. You seem to be a trigger for him, good or bad, she hasn’t decided.

"I'm afraid there's more than one that night to pick from." You tell her when she steps back to let you and Sadie inside. "If you mean the first night of filming? Yeah...we...we ran into each other at dinner. And I...I got mad. It's not my proudest moment, I'm afraid."

“What happened?” Desiree’s heart drops and she bites her lip as she looks back towards Dieter. Unsure of how to snap him out of this particular funk. She normally can, but nothing is working this time.

"He had a sketchbook with him." It's really not anything you're proud of, but you're honestly shocked that whoever had filmed it in the restaurant that day hadn't put it online. "I–I saw him drawing me and I kind of...well, I yelled. We came back here when I insisted that he explain to me why he was drawing me and he...well," you exhale deeply, remembering the deep lines of hurt in his face right before he walked out your door. "It didn't go well."

She can’t even begin to imagine what Dieter is thinking, but she nods. “Okay.” She glances over at Sadie and bites her lip. “We’ll go downstairs to give you two a few minutes.” She decides, desperate to have her boss back and willing to do whatever it takes.

Silent hugs of encouragement are had between the three of you, and you watch Sadie and Desiree go out the door before you step back toward the bedroom door. It’s open but you still knock, not wanting to startle Dieter. “Dee?” From the doorway you can see that the room has been left to get messy along with his mind. He’s laying on the bed staring at the walls and you gulp nervously. “Dee, is it okay if I come in?”

Dieter grunts, hearing you although it sounds like he is in a water tank. Wondering why he hears you, you shouldn’t be in his room. The blissful feeling of floating is starting to wane and he knows that he’s coming down from his high. Must be his call time for the day.

When the biggest response you get out of him is a nonverbal sound, you leave your bag at the door and push inside with worry worn on your face. “Can you talk?” You ask gently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Fifteen.” Dieter croaks out. His voice is rough and raspy from not using it for so long. He always sounds a little hoarse, but it’s amplified by the cottonmouth the drugs leave him with.

“Fifteen what, Dee?” A deeply ingrained part of you just wants to reach out and wrap your arms around him but the fear is overwhelming. He might lash out or he might not want you here at all – regardless of you just trying to help.

“She was– was my father’s girlfriend.” Dieter tells you, tone flat and void of all emotion.

“Your father had fifteen girlfriends?” You ask, not understanding at all. Of course, you knew his father for a womanizing asshole, but not much else. Dieter has seemed to fear and revere him when he was younger, but you had only met the man once.

“N-no. Yes.” Dieter doesn’t know why he is thinking about this, but it’s what he keeps replaying in his head. “I was– fifteen when she– he sent her to my room.” His father had decided he was tired of his son being a shy virgin. So he had sent his twenty-one year old girlfriend to him to show him what to do.

“Oh god.” Dread curls on your stomach when you realize what he’s saying, and you shift closer to him on the mattress. “That’s all done now, Dee. It’s over. And he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” While the news of Baxter Bravo’s death rocked Hollywood a few years ago, you had paid it little mind. Now, though? Even that one little piece of information makes you want to dance on his grave when you get back to California.

“He had my money.” Dieter croaks, frowning and closing his eyes. “Threa-threatened to cut me off. If I didn’t– if I stayed in theatre.” His thoughts have shifted to his father, guilt and anger fusing together. “First time I got drunk was because of him. Eight years old at his party.”

“Shit…” He’s bouncing all over the place in his memory, and unfortunately there is a lot about his father that you just don’t know. But the piece about theater sticks directly into your heart – because the only time Dieter was in the theater was around the time you met. “When did he say he’d disown you?” You ask, trying to get him on a clear train of thought if that’s at all possible.

“I watched you.” His eyes open again and he turns his head to look at you for the first time. “I was in the back, I watched the entire thing. I couldn’t go without seeing it– you. It was your best performance. Without me.”

“The night you…” It’s an impulse, the way you reach for his hand, but your fingers tighten around his and the gesture feels so small. Not nearly enough, but you’re afraid to go further. “You watched the show the night you left?” You were broken that night – sobbing and sick to your stomach at every turn, lashing out at people who tried to take care of you because you were hurt and terrified. You couldn’t even let yourself drink after the show to numb the feeling because you thought you were pregnant. “Dee…” Your inhale is ragged. “It wasn’t my best performance. Not by a long shot. I was a shell that night.”

“It was beautiful.” Dieter insists, frowning at you, showing emotion for the first time since anyone entered his room this morning. “You were beautiful. And I–” he swallows. “I couldn’t keep you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“Because of your father?” The pieces begin to slide into place in your mind, but the puzzle is still wildly incomplete. “Is that what happened?”

Dieter blinks, frowning slightly and then lifts his head. “Bambi?” He asks quietly. “Are you really here?” He’s talked about this so many times to a figment of his imagination he doesn’t know if you are real.

“Yeah, Dee.” You shift another few inches up the bed, keeping his hand in yours until you’re sitting right next to him. His eyes are glossy from whatever he’s taken but his words are coming a little clearer, and you’re hoping that’s a sign that he’s coming down. “I’m right here. I was…I’m worried about you.” There’s no past tense about it, but you bite your lip from saying anything deeper when he’s not entirely himself. “So I came over to check on you.”

“Why?” That confuses him. You hate him, you have every right to hate him after what he had done. Not just twelve years ago, but the way he had prodded at you and taunted you since then, fueling the hatred because it was easier for you to hate him than to delve into his losing you. “I– I left you. I left you for him.” He grunts, disgusted with himself for choosing a man who had never viewed Dieter as anything more than an extension of himself. Forcing him to choose the Bravo family dynasty and then dying on him a few years later, leaving a widow that was nearly too young for even Dieter to date.

“Because—” It sticks in your throat, choking you with truth and sadness and tears of regret. With anger and frustration. With things you have never said out loud to anyone before, not even Sadie or your therapist. “Because I c—care about you,” you manage to choke out, feeling the half-truth of it crack in your chest. The decade of anger and disgust really boils down to hurt and worry, when you’re honest with yourself.

“You shouldn’t.” That is the crux of Dieter’s issues. He knows he is completely unworthy of someone caring about him. It’s easier to not care when you push people away and they look at you in disgust. “I–” he closes his eyes again, humming to himself. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his mind settling and the rush of the high wears off as he fades into fatigue.

“Dee, can you stay awake for me?” You don’t know a whole lot about drugs or their side effects but you know that there are a whole lot of things that can make a person tired or even pass out, and you’re about as prepared for that as you are to handle what he just said to you — which is to say, not at all. You don’t know whether to trust it or not. Whether he would have said it at all, or if he would even come close to meaning it when his mind is his own. The best you can do is try to keep him awake and hope that Desiree sends up his breakfast soon.

“Hmmmm.” Dieter doesn’t want to, not when he is feeling this tired. “Bottle–” he gestures with one lazy hand towards the nightstand. “Red pill.” He needs a hit of speed to be ready for his call time. “Need.”

“What are the red ones?” You’re not prepared to give him more drugs, but if it’s an antacid or a simple ibuprofen or something, that’s different.

“First time I took speed– I was ten.” Dieter grunts. “Dad gave it to me. Needed to stay up for a night shoot.”

“Fucking hell…” If his father wasn’t already dead you’d be hunting him down yourself. How could a grown man do that to his child? “It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, putting your other hand over his. “We don’t need that today.” Or ever, but one step at a time. “We’re just going to sit together today, is that okay? Just you and me? Have something to eat and if you need to nap we can ask Desiree, okay?” At the very least, Des can give you a better idea of what his symptoms and side effects look like. She can give you some kind of idea of what to expect.

“Gotta–” Dieter opens his eyes again and gives you a soft smile. “Bambi.” He murmurs breathlessly. “Still so innocent.”

“A little less than I used to be.” In this, though? In the world of these abusive experiences and using drugs to compensate? You really are very innocent.

“Great ass.” Dieter groans, acting more like his normal front for a moment, but he means it. “I lied, your tits are amazing.”

You can’t help but snort, holding back an appreciative laugh because you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. “You were always a big fan of them.”

“Why did you rip my sketches?” He asks quietly, a question he has pondered for a long time but never asked. “Were they bad?”

“Because I—” Unconsciously, your hands tighten slightly around him, not wanting him to pull away. “I thought you were making fun of me. That you wanted to remember how much you had hurt me…and then I saw more and I…I was just confused as to why you kept drawing me.”

“That's all I have left of my beautiful Bambi.” Dieter chokes out, his face twisted in sorrow and remorse.

“Dee…” It makes you deflate, the confusion and the anxiety leaving your body so you nearly sag beside him on the mattress and shake your head. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” For years you had convinced yourself that it was a lie. That he had just told you what you wanted to hear and that he had never meant it. But the voice in the back of your mind that knew it wasn’t true seems to have been right all along.

“Told him I was staying.” He rambles, shaking his head. “Not going to Cali, but he said I would be cut off. Raising the baby on the streets. I’d be a bad dad.”

It doesn’t matter that the tests had been wrong – it was the fear that was real. And the fear that his father had instilled in him was real, too. “I’m sorry you were scared.” You murmur, still holding onto him. “I was scared, too.”

“I shoulda stayed.” Dieter huffs. “Been stronger. Always been so weak. You’re strong. So strong. Better than me.”

“It’s not about ‘better’.” It breaks your heart to hear him say that, and you shake your head. “We’re just different. That’s…that’s why we were good together. Balance.”

With his confessions off his chest, Dieter falls asleep, his soft snores coming out evenly with his breathing relaxed. Hand going slack in yours.

Once it’s clear he’s sleeping and not in some kind of stupor, you text Desiree to let her know that he seemed lucid before the snoring started and you sit back to wait. Unfortunately, you’re somewhat of a restless person and sitting while someone else sleeps just isn’t your cup of tea. So the compulsive cleaning starts. First it’s tucking him in properly, then dropping his rejected sweaters and t-shirts into the laundry basket in his wardrobe. It’s tidying his stacks of books, then art supplies, and scattered notebooks that you assume hold more sketches. It’s curiosity that does it – that same old thing that got the cat and now you.

The first sketchbook is the one you recognize from the sandwich shop, and you very carefully and quietly set to work taping the pages back in that you tore. The next has images of sets and landscapes – nothing out of the ordinary there. But the third seems to be self-portraits. Gruesome renderings of his own visage with gore and mutations, some intentionally missing whole chunks of himself from the image. Drawings where his chest has been torn open, or where he seems to have no space for a heart at all. It’s an overwhelming discovery, and you compulsively find yourself flipping through every single image until you’re sitting in the corner armchair silently crying.

Dieter sleeps for several hours without dreaming. Just the deep sleep of the exhausted. Until images of you start to creep in. Moments he has missed until he is running towards you and he can’t seem to catch you. “Bambi!” He moans, the word coming out gargled and far quieter than he has said in his dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The second you hear your name – your nickname – your head shoots up from the book you were reading and you head for the bed to sit with him again. Desiree had said he said Bambi in his sleep and she was being honest, though he had always talked in his sleep from time to time before. “I’m right here.” You take his hand again, not caring if you wake him up. He’s been asleep for hours and he needs to eat something. God only knows how long it’s been since he had a proper meal. “I’m right here, Dee.”

You’re running away from him, making him run faster. Trying to catch you before you disappear out of sight. Until you leave him. “Don’t go.” He whimpers, feeling a pressure in his hand and he squeezes it in desperation. “Please. Please Bambi.”

“I’m right here,” you repeat, watching his face contort in the dream, and you find yourself wondering if it’s unsafe to wake someone from a nightmare if they’re still tripping. But since you have no idea if he is still high, you decide to say fuck it and put your other hand on his shoulder very deliberately. “Dee, wake up.” You barely keep yourself from calling him baby — cooing the way you would have years ago. It’s too easy to slip back into. “Wake up for me? Please?”

Dieter’s eyes shoot open, like he’s had a shot of adrenaline shoved into his heart. Reaching out and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. “Bambi!” He gasps before he realizes he’s awake and gives you a confused look, “did I– where am I?”

“The hotel.” You nearly jump three feet off the bed when he woke up, but you manage to keep your voice calm. “We’re in the hotel. In London. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yeah.” Dieter groans and looks around, blinking owlishly, although his vision is a shit ton better since the lasik surgery. “Did I miss my call time?”

“It’s our day off.” He hasn’t let go of your hand and you don’t let go either. “You haven’t—I mean I—” You exhale to let the shakiness out of your voice. “I’m worried about you. Desiree says you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” He makes a face and then gives a small shrug before he grunts and sits up. “Not hungry.” He murmurs, feeling like everything tastes like despair.

“Says the guy who used to be able to eat two entire cheeseburgers plus fries in a sitting.” Looking down at your joined hands, you’re not sure if coming over here was a good idea or not, but you’re here. You made the decision. So you’re going to stick with it. “Does whatever you’re taking make you not hungry? Or is it the depression?” It’s not like you haven’t dealt with it yourself. You know what depression can do to a person and you know it firsthand.

Dieter looks away guiltily, remembering all the times that his father would tell him that there’s nothing a snort of coke or a tight pussy couldn’t fix. “I just– nothing tastes good.” He says finally, registering that his mouth is dry. “I gotta–” he moves to get up, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“There’s water right here.” That, at least, you could have ready for him. The bottle is ready and waiting on his side table where you point to it. “Do you…” your voice wavers but you clear your throat. “Do you remember talking to me this morning? At all?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and and despite the drugs that he takes, he unfortunately remembers it all. The curse of a photographic memory, though it serves him well in memorizing lines. “I told you about that day. And my dad.” He gulps down the water thirstily and sighs when it’s gone.

“You did.” He also said that he loves you – present tense – but if he doesn’t remember that part you’re not going to put more pressure on the situation. “I’m sorry, Dee. I had no idea he was so hard on you.” You knew he was strict, obviously, but some of the things he described were downright odious.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Aware of what he had blurted out to you in his very honest dialogue. “You can just– pretend I didn’t say anything. It’s okay. I won’t blame you.”

“Do you want me to forget?” It’s a very touchy game you’re playing here, and you’re not sure which way he’s leaning.

“I know you can’t forgive me.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “But no. Use it to make yourself feel better about how shitty I did you.”

“It sounds like things were a lot more complicated than I ever knew.” The urge to just reach out and hug him is so hard to ignore. There’s always been a magnet between you and it seems to have been recharged as more and more information came to light today. “I wish you had at least said goodbye, but I get now that you didn’t have a choice in leaving. We…we were just kids.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “I was a grown ass man. I should have told him to go fuck himself. Sued him for my money.” There've been plenty of regrets and ‘would haves’ where you and that situation was concerned. “If I had said goodbye, I would have–” he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I knew I couldn’t face you. I’m a coward.”

“He was abusing you.” If he’s been in therapy, then he knows that already. But the stubborn voice inside you refuses to let him get away with putting himself down. “Of course you were afraid of him. He did that on purpose. But Dee…” You shake your own head this time and sigh. “He’s gone. He doesn’t get to keep hurting you like this.”

“The ghost of Baxter Bravo always haunts me.” Dieter tells you. “It’s like a never ending A Christmas Carol.”

“Is there…” It sticks in your throat like lava, some kind of fear that you can’t name, but you manage to swallow. “Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean?”

Dieter shakes his head, knowing it’s not your place to fix him. He doesn’t even know if you can. He’d just drag you down with him. “Doubtful. Unless you want to show me your tits?” He asks hopefully, lifting his brows.

You roll your eyes, seeing his walls go back up and shut you out all over again. Making it clear that he doesn’t want you looking into that part of his life anymore. “You’ll see them on set in a week.”

“I don’t–” he sees the way your expression falls, the annoyance you are trying to hide. “Thank you.” He offers, swallowing. “Life is full of regrets, right?”

“I guess so. Or…I don’t know anyone whose isn’t. So it must be universal.” This conversation feels like a time bomb, ticking away to the point of oblivion, and you just don’t know when the explosion is going to come. You’d thought it was just a second ago, but apparently not. So you try a different olive branch. “I don’t like being mad at you, for the record. Even if we’re not…what we were…I still don’t want to hate you.”

Dieter licks his lips, eyes quickly darting between yours and he lunges forward, desperately pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is needy and wanting.

It makes sense that your first impulse is to push him away. This impulse of his seemingly came out of nowhere, after all. The problem – or maybe more accurately, the complication – is that as soon as you register the fact that Dieter is kissing you, you become twenty-one all over again and hold onto him for dear life instead of using your hands on his chest to create distance. It’s pull instead of push, and the kiss lingers just long enough to become soft before your mind comes back down from whatever cloud it lighted on and you have to part for air.

He frowns when you pull back, wanting the kiss to go on longer, for it to never end. Opening his eyes with a small pout on his lips and wishing he could lean in again but your hand is on his chest gently keeping him in place.

“Wha—” With your mind going a hundred miles a minute, you feel like you’re spinning and holding on to him is the only thing keeping you from drifting away. “That—” One hand drifts to your lips to touch them like you’re not sure if the sensation is real or not. “You meant it, didn’t you?” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth, utter bewilderment obvious in your tone.

“Meant what?” Dieter asks, not sure exactly what you are talking about. He had meant everything he said.

“Before you fell asleep…” It’s been ringing in your head for hours. “You…said you love me.”

“Yes.” Dieter admits it quietly. “I don’t – I’m honest when I’m high. I have no filter.”

“I just…I spent a long time thinking you hated me. Or…or that you didn’t think anything about me. It’s…” You swallow again, fingers still tangled in his shirt. “An adjustment.”

“I’m sorry.” Dieter bites his lip. “It’s a – it's a safety thing. Push people away before they can hurt you.” He’s not proud of it, nor would he say that it’s right, but it’s what he does.

“I get it.” Shifting in place from mounting anxiety, you find yourself moving closer to him instead of just adjusting in place. “I mean…I haven’t had a relationship last longer than six months in…” You huff at yourself when you do the math. “In twelve years.”

He knows that’s his fault. He caused you to be that way. He had taken his Bambi, his innocent Bambi, and ruined you. He sighs softly and shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit for that.”

“What happened was complicated.” That’s a very kind way of putting it, but you can’t bring yourself to be ferociously upset or angry with him anymore. Not now that you’re starting to have a picture of how bad the abuse was that he endured. “But it’s good to know that you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s…that means more than you know.”

Dieter nods, feeling like he should say something else but not knowing what. He’s not…good with emotional entanglements. Trying to keep everything surface level for so long had fucked with his heart. “I– that’s good.” He says awkwardly, his stomach deciding it would be the perfect time to rumble like Mt. Vesuvius.

“You need to eat.” It’s the spell that breaks the tension, and you sit back again on the mattress with renewed awkwardness. “I’ll, um…I’ll call for room service?”

“You don’t have to stay.” Dieter knows that you might not want to spend too much time with him. “It’s your day off. I doubt you want to spend it with me.”

“If you don’t want me to stay, that’s one thing,” you tell him honestly. “But if it’s up to me, I’d rather stay. I haven’t stopped being worried about you just because we talked without screaming at each other.”

Dieter frowns and wonders why you are worried about him. But he also doesn’t want to be alone. Instead he nods. “I– I need to shower. I feel grimy.” He knows he looks homeless routinely, but he does shower regularly. “Could you– could you order us something to eat? If you’re staying?”

“I’ll order some food, you go shower.” That gets you up at last, moving across the room to grab the hotel’s service binder from the table it’s sitting on in his front room. After a second you step back, hanging in the bedroom doorway. “Our assistants are dating, by the way. I don’t know if you know.”

“I figured when she snapped up the reservation she had made for me.” Dieter mumbles. And it explains why another woman had been coming into his room. “That’s how you found out about me talking about you in my sleep.”

“Yeah.” You nod slightly, but look up at him with a lopsided smile. “But you always talked into your sleep anyway. I could have been bluffing.”

He pouts, knowing that you could have been bluffing and he would have believed it, because he does dream about you. “True. But you burp in your sleep.”

“Which I’m pretty sure is the reason nobody sticks around more than a few months.” It’s a friendly jab at yourself, and you shrug it off. “Go shower. I’m gonna get us some food and let Desiree know you’re up.”

Dieter turns and stops. “Thank you.” He tells you seriously. “You could have just left me to my misery.”

“Turns out I might have a little soft spot for you.” A fact which is going to have your stomach, nerves, and heart in knots all at once.

“Don’t know why, but I’ll take it.” Dieter turns and walks into the bathroom, only pushing the door instead of latching it.

As soon as you hear the shower turn on, you call down for a sizable lunch plus a whole pot of the green tea he seems to be favoring these days, and then turn right around and call Desiree to give her an update. She and Sadie had gone down to Sadie's room to wait things out, and while you realize you might be calling in the middle of...things, it's worth the risk of interrupting them to let her know that Dieter is okay.

Standing under the hottest water the hotel provides, he leans against the shower tiles and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why you are here, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in a long time. His head is pounding but he’s not reaching for the bottle on the counter just yet. Groaning as the water beats down on his skin and he reaches for the soap he prefers, eager to scrub himself clean.

******

The day has been such a whirlwind that you barely know what's happened except that from rehearsal to dinner to the cab right back across the city, you and Dieter have been inseparable. He’s been so kind and so attentive, answering all of your questions about what it was like to grow up in Hollywood and all of the exotic places he’s visited. He’s told you stories from movie sets and all about the sunny beaches out West that just beg for anyone to enjoy them. And now – on top of it all – you’re sitting in the living room of his upper East side apartment with him with glasses of sticky sweet rum and Coke to drink while you listen to someone across the small neighborhood playing piano with their windows thrown open. It’s so romantic you could cry, or maybe jump for joy. You certainly wouldn’t want to cry right now, with his fingers grazing your shoulder gently – a little more every time they pass.

He doesn’t understand how you are still untouched, so fucking pretty and clever, sociable when you want to be. Keeping his own ‘losing his virginity’ story to himself because what can he really tell you about that? Instead his fingers trail over your bare shoulder, your tank top is a toy at times as he hums. Itching with the need to draw you, another talent he doesn’t talk about. It was highly discouraged in his household. Hell, the only thing that was encouraged was acting and being a slut. Living up to the old man’s reputation. But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is how your body inches closer to him and those kisses that you’ve been enthusiastic about sharing have turned slightly greedy.

The dam broke at rehearsal, of course. The script calls for a kiss and he had kindly suggested that it would make it less awkward in the future to share a few early on. That led to a fairly intense make out session in your dressing room, and now this moment on his couch. You’re so drawn to him – unsure of how or why this is happening but determined to make the most of it. Dieter toys with the strap of your tank top, sliding it off your shoulder and grazing his fingertips across the bare skin to make you sigh and shiver. It’s divine and slightly intoxicating and he has completely wiped every thought from your head except for him.

"You need another refill?" Dieter hesitates to ask the real question he wants to. Wanting you to be comfortable. "Or water?" He probably drinks a little more than he should, smokes some grass and pops a few pills when he isn't working, but he wants you clear headed for what he wants tonight.

“I guess water might be smart.” You fluster slightly at the fact that you probably would have just had another drink if he hadn’t offered an alternative. To you, that signals the end of the night – he’ll be walking you to the door and sending you home soon. But what a day it’s been.

He nods, reluctantly removing his arm from around you so he can stand to get you a new glass. “Let me get it for you.” He bites his lip, wondering what you are thinking as you play with your rum glass. “So how do you like kissing me?”

The straightforward question earns an embarrassed giggle from you, and you take the last sip of rum and Coke from your glass while you think of the least embarrassing way to answer. "A lot," you admit, hiding your flustered face behind the glass. "I like it a lot. But I'm sure I'm not the first girl to tell you that."

“No, but you’re the only girl I want to hear it from.” Dieter flirts, turning around and winking at you from around the corner to the small galley style kitchen.

"It's going to be a really remarkable show." The playwright is amazing, the rest of the cast is phenomenal, and you're basically feeling like an imposter being a complete unknown and leading this cast of incredible talent. The fact that you've had a crush on your leading man since you knew what a crush was doesn't hurt either.

“Yes it is.” It only takes him a few moments to get your glass and he brings it back over to you and sits down to face you as he grins. “Because you are in it.”

"You're so sweet to me." You put down your empty glass to accept the water and feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Between how he keeps flattering you and being nearly desperate to kiss him again, you feel like you're on fire from head to toe – and the center is that familiar and powerful want that starts between your legs and grows infinitely.

“I want to talk to you about something very serious.” Dieter raises his brows and looks at you playfully, in a way that he can only manage when he wants to know something naughty. His fingers find your bare arms and he strokes the skin softly.

"Okay." There has been no shortage of conversation between the two of you, which has been nice, but you call yourself to order for something serious.

“So we’ve been….doing this–” he motions between the two of you and bites his lip, aware that you might not be ready for something like this. “But….do you want to have sex with me?” He asks. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I really want you.”

"I–" The surprise on your face is obvious as you set the glass of water down carefully on the table beside you and turn back to Dieter on the sofa. The answer is obviously yes, but it's a shock to hear him ask out loud. And a shock that he would want you when he could have his choice of anyone in the world. The signals in your mind cross themselves, and you're nodding yes right away, but what comes out of your mouth is slightly different. "I'm a virgin," you blurt out, unable to stop yourself from being honest to a fault.

He had known that. The way you responded to him had told him that, but his half hard cock twitches at the words. “That’s okay.” He promises you. “It’s okay Bambi, I don’t mind if you’re a virgin.”

"You don't?" As far as you understood, that was the worst thing a girl could be. It smacked of being prudish or snobbish, and even though there just hadn't been any boys at home that you were interested in. In the city you had focused entirely on your studies. Now your studies have led you here...and to him.

“I love that.” Dieter confesses, sliding closer another inch, his cock throbbing now and he knows if you look down, you’ll see his hard on straining against the joggers he was wearing. “I want to be the first one to touch you, maybe the only one.” He’s breathless, as if it would be a treasure to cherish.

The only one. It takes your breath away unexpectedly, and you can feel yourself staring with your mouth slightly open. He's remarkable and magnetic and the closer he moves to you the more you move to meet him, and your hand tentatively rests on his leg to steady yourself. "I want you to be, too."

Grinning, he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He asks, wanting to make sure. “You want me to take your virginity?”

"I've..." Your fingers dig into his leg a little, curling as you lean forward a little and nod. "I've dreamed about it." You confess quietly. Those dreams were long before you met him, obviously, but here you are.

He nods seriously and points to your water. “Drink up Bambi, I want to show you my bedroom.”

“I’m not drunk,” you promise him, but drink the water anyway. It’s probably good to give you a minute to cool down before you spontaneously combust right next to him.

He smirks and shakes his head. “I know. I just want you in complete control of the decisions you make.”

“Saying yes to you isn’t exactly a difficult decision.” In fact, you’d be hard pressed to think of any time or place you would say no — the idea of turning down Dieter Bravo is unfathomable.

“Yeah but…” he doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want you to regret it, instead he just leans in and kisses your throat. “I want you begging for it.”

Somehow you really don’t think that’s going to be an issue, and the whimper that escapes your lips when you feel his tongue flick across your pulse tells him so. It’s all you can do to gulp down the water remaining in the glass he brought you so you can have both hands on him as he kisses his way along your throat and shoulder, then back up to your jaw again.

“You want to go to my bedroom?” He asks softly, keeping his voice low and easy. Hands ghosting over your sides and grazing over your breasts.

“Yes.” The emphatic nodding would have given your answer but you whine on the word, making it come out strained and eager. Like you’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life. And maybe – as of this moment – you haven’t. “Yes—I—please?”

Standing up, Dieter drags you up into his arms and rushes you towards the bedroom. He’s lucky that he even has a bedroom, most apartments are studio closets like yours. He nearly picks you up in his rush to usher you through the apartment, and you giggle against his lips as he moves you. Dieter groans and giggles as he slams his shoulder into the door frame in his eagerness to get you into the bedroom.

You’ve heard things, because of course you have, from girls around you. About how the first time is always bad, or it hurts, or it doesn’t last more than two minutes. There are always plenty of bad stories in circulation as warnings. But you can’t imagine Dieter would be a disappointment like that. Whether it’s the rose-colored tint of brand new feelings or that very long-distance crush that you nursed for forever…or even just the surety that anyone who kisses as well as he does can’t be bad in bed. Whatever it is, you’re more excited than you are scared.

“Now.” Dieter collapses on the bed with you and rushes to kiss you again. “I’m gonna lick your pussy.” He groans, reaching for your leggings. “Don’t be shy and try to hide from me.”

For just a second you’re tempted to point out that he seems to like when you’re shy, but when you register what he’s said you end up gobsmacked instead. Almost every girl you know has bitched and moaned about their boyfriends hating to eat pussy — and here you are with an international movie star about to strip your panties off.

Some people call him selfish, and he is. Dieter can be a needy, selfish asshole but he also has a massive praise kink. Learning quickly from his first encounter that the easiest way to earn moaned praises is for him to service his partner. Making them willing to fuck him again the next time, so he is a man who will happily bury his face in a cunt or wrap his lips around a cock. Now, he pulls back to drag your panties down, spreading your legs wide and tutting when you try to close your legs. Sensing your embarrassment, he flashes you a grin. “Don’t worry Bambi, I don’t shave either.”

“I would have…” You mumble, heat flooding your cheeks that has nothing to do with arousal. “But I never expected this.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi.” Dieter scoffs. “I like the au natural look.” He promises. “It’s womanly.” He grips your thighs and ducks down to suck your clit into his mouth.

It’s a shock to your system that makes you tense up at first, keening at the sensation that is completely unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. No fumbling hand in your panties could ever come close to the sensation of hot breath and plush lips on your clit. Not that any of the boys that came before him ever even knew where your clit was. This is the kind of pleasure that makes your back arch and your brain shut off immediately.

Humming, he smirks against your mound. Reaching up to push your shirt up so he can reach your tits. Eager to touch them. He’s wanted to see your tits since he’s kissed you. You shiver under his attention, body responding to everything all at once and yet focused entirely on the places that he’s touching you. He grunts in disapproval when he feels you move, but it’s just so that you can peel your tank top off, stripping away your bra along with it to leave yourself completely bare for him.

Groaning, Dieter reaches up with both hands, filling them with your tits and massaging them as he spells his name into your folds with his tongue, making sure to flick it over your clit as much as possible.

The breadth of his frame keeps your legs pinned open, body moving in waves underneath him as you arch up and roll your hips down alternately. You’re trying to chase every single sensation possible as the pressure mounts in your core, unashamedly whimpering and moaning at every turn. By the time your legs are shaking you’ve nearly forgotten your own name, but you sure as hell remember his – chanting “Dee” in increasingly breathless moans until the damn breaks and your orgasm washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

For his part, he’s incredibly patient for a man in his twenties giving pleasure to someone else. Keeping his tongue sweeping over your nerves with practiced skill and precision, groaning when you shamelessly press yourself harder into his mouth. Wanting and willing you to come apart so he can witness the spectacular sight.

“Oh my fucking god.” Most of the time, you really don’t swear. It’s not a big part of your vocabulary, or at least it hasn’t been so far. But as the aftershocks of that first orgasm at his mercy roll through you, you can’t seem to form a sentence that doesn’t include a curse. “D—Dieter—shit…that was…” It was amazing, but you’re not sure if gushing about it just makes it all the more obvious that he’s the first person ever to make you cum that way.

He chuckles as he gives your soaked folds another lazy lick before turning his head and kissing along your thigh. “You enjoy that, Bambi? I fucking love the way you taste. So sweet for me.”

“You’re so fucking incredible.” Without him holding you in place, you easily twist down the bed to meet him, eagerly tasting your own essence on his lips and tongue. Some people might not like it – most men you’ve known say they don’t – but you don’t care. All you care about right now is being as close to him as possible.

The kiss is messy, frantic. Aided by your fingers pulling at his clothes. The role of shy virgin peeled away and he’s left with his Bambi who is desperate for him. Dieter groans, hating that his lips break away from yours long enough to pull his shirt over his head, he has to be the one thinking rationally. “Condom.” He gasps, nearly whining when you cup him through his pants.

Like a shock to your system, you pull your hand back immediately and look guiltily away. Since you never thought anything like this could happen in a million years, you certainly didn’t come prepared. “Shit…” the murmur that passes your lips is fully regretful and your face drops.

“No.” Dieter cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours firmly. “I need to get a condom.” He clarifies. “I have one.” He keeps them in his dresser. He was just so overwhelmed he was reminding himself he needed to protect you.

“Oh.” Your whole face burns in embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you look away. “Right. I—I knew that—”

“It’s not on you to provide condoms.” Dieter has a fucked up view on sex and love, but he had always been taught to fucking wrap it up. His father didn’t want scandals about his son catching the clap.

“Okay.” Taking it as fact from someone who knows far better than you, you nod your understanding and tentatively press in to kiss him softly. “Whatever you say.”

He smirks, wonderfully entranced with your easy acceptance and he shuffles over, still kissing you so that he can open the small nightstand and pull out a ribbon of condoms. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” He groans. “Lay back. Let me get this on.”

There is no instinct in you to question him or the situation. Absolutely nothing matters more here or now than him, and you just naturally assume that you aren’t the only girl to have ever felt that way. After all, how could you be? He’s a movie star. Of course he’s had sex with plenty of other people. But your mind rings with him saying he wants to be the only one to touch you and it’s the most utterly special you’ve ever felt in your life.

Dieter hops off the bed and smirks, making a little show of stripping off his pants and underwear. Watching your eyes widen gives him a quick ego stroke. Ripping open the foil packet with his teeth, he frowns slightly as he rolls the rubber down his length and strokes himself a few quick times. “Are you ready?”

It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before – you’ve had boyfriends after all – but this is more significant than a hand job after prom or messing around on spring break. This is something you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t be happier that it’s him, feeling like a string exists between the two of you that will keep you tied together forever. “I’m ready.”

Dieter climbs back onto the bed, his protected cock swinging underneath him as he slots himself into the cradle of your thighs. Taking his time to kiss you softly, letting it build up as if you have all the time in the world. The muted taste of rum on your tongue and your need are intoxicating and making him feel drunk off of you.

Desire outweighs your nerves, teaching your body how to move without the need for more formal instructions. Your hands wander and your hips roll, lips trailing down the column of his neck and tracing the prominent veins there in an attempt to memorize him completely. If he was handsome before – and he definitely was – he’s stunning now, moaning in your ear when your fingernails graze over his chest and scrape his nipple — which you somehow hadn’t realized was pierced in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Shit.” He hisses, cock throbbing at the sharp burst of pleasure. He rocks his hips forward, cock laying between your lips. “So sexy.” He moans quietly into your mouth when you find each other in the darkness again.

“What is?” You hum into the kiss, feeling emboldened by his praise. “This?” Nails finding their mark again, this time you bring both hands down his chest to play with the sensitive buds.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter whines, snapping his hips forward to grind against you. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“You are, Dee.” The more he grinds against your mound, the slicker and more swollen your clit gets, making you lean into the motion more and more.

“You want me to slide inside you?” He asks, moans the question in your ear. “Break open your needy pussy on my cock?”

“Fuck.” Needy is definitely the right word, as you actually might combust if he doesn’t. “Please,” you nod frantically, rendering what he said about wanting you to beg. “Oh god, please do it—”

It takes just a moment for him to drop his hips and feel the tip of his cock catch at your dripping entrance. Your legs widen even more to let him in and he captures your lips again as he starts to rock forward. The feeling of fullness is indescribable, beginning right in the core of your whole self and spreading outward until even your fingers and toes feel different somehow. Even kissing him seems fuller now, although that might be from the reverberating moans you share as he sinks deeper inside your body.

“You’re so good.” He praises, breaking away from your lips so he can roll his hips back. “Tell me you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you. Tell me you are feeling this.” He begs quietly between kisses.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You promise him, shaking your head and brushing kisses across his lips and jaw. “Feels amazing, baby.” The little term of endearment slips without thinking about it. You might have been more self conscious or doubting about it if he weren’t inside you, but since he is you just relish it. The physical closeness and the intimacy of this moment that is so much more incredible than you could have expected. It is…different than you expected, though, and you squirm slightly under him. “So full, Dee. Fuck, I—does it feel as good for you?”

“So goddamn good.” He moans, ducking his head and tucking his face against your throat. Needing a minute himself shows how tight you get when you contract those muscles. “So good.”

The long moments – maybe whole minutes or more – that it takes both of you to get your breath back are exquisite. You start moving under him sooner than he moves on his own, not because you're impatient but because it feels too good not to. He takes his time establishing a rhythm. Letting you roll your hips up to meet his thrusts. Pinning you down every other thrust and letting you feel every inch of his cock as he pushes forward.

Every girl you know said that their first time was over in the blink of an eye, but this is practically lazy. Dieter is in no rush to have the night over with and though you're already climbing your way back up that immense mountain of pleasure, you're in no hurry for it to be over. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling a little bolder every time he groans at the tight squeeze of your velvet walls.

He’s determined to make this good for you. Kissing and sucking on your skin. Groaning because he feels how your walls tremble when he rasps in your ear. “So good baby.” He moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You'll feel him tomorrow in every way that counts, from the ache between your legs to the bruises he’s leaving on your skin. You'll taste him on your tongue and have the ghost of his kisses left on your lips, and every time you remember how deep his voice gets when he moans in your ear, your toes will curl all over again. Tonight, though, as you gasp and keen, wailing his name into the darkness, you can't help the curiosity rolling through you alongside the pleasure. "Want to t-try–" Gasping between thrusts, your lips practically tremble at his ear. "More, baby, please. I want to try everything."

“We will, baby.” He promises, twitching inside you. “Fuck, all of it. Gonna do everything with you, to you.” He wraps his hand around your shoulder to have better leverage to thrust into you.

"Everything." It's a vast, bottomless promise but somehow you don't doubt him. Like everything that he's done is everything that you're aching to try, and the things that he hasn't are the things that you were always meant to try together. The new angle he achieves with his arms wrapped around you like this gives him the perfect opportunity to strike a spot inside you that you've never felt before – one that turns keening wails of his name into shapeless cries and shouts, too lost in pleasure to even find words to express how fucking good it feels.

Once he gets that response out of you, Dieter clenches his teeth together and concentrates. Making sure he hits it again and again, wanting to hear you squeal his name. “There it is. Oh fuck, you gonna cum Bambi? You gonna soak my cock?”

Without enough presence of mind to even be able to form the word "Yes", you manage a nod, clinging to him and moaning so deeply you can feel it in your toes. It feels like you're about to shake apart and yet if you let go of him for even a second you might crumble from the inside out. Orgasms have never felt like this before – like a ticking time bomb inside your body might go off if he just strokes that spot inside you one more time.

Rocking into you is as close to secular prayer as Dieter has gotten…ever. “Oh god, oh god.” Is chanted on repeat, barely able to keep his eyes open as works his cock in and out of your pussy, poised on the edge of spasming around him.

It takes two more strokes, not one, but when you fall off the edge of pleasure you manage just a single syllable - crying "Dee!" Out into the night and sobbing as wave after wave of pleasure crests across the two of you. Your whole body seems to draw him in, cunt clenching and arms tightening, legs twitching at his waist before you slip away into a sky of stars that burst behind your eyes. The poets were not exaggerating, not one little bit.

He is tumbling right after you. Pushing as deep as he can with a worshipful groan of your name. Thankful for the condom because he would have never been able to pull out in time as he fills the prophylactic with a shudder.

The rush of endorphins that hits a second later has you giggling, dusting kisses across his lips and every inch of skin you can manage while pinned underneath him. “I—” As articulate as you try to be in everyday life, words fail you now. “Wow.”

As soon as Dieter gets done, he’s burrowing into your neck. Becoming an adorably snuggly koala. Always loving the post coitus high that comes from sex. “So fucking good.” He praises, scattering kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.

“You’re amazing.” Still working to catch your breath, your legs may drop back to the mattress but your arms keep him close.

Dieter’s hand slides between you to hold the condom as he pulls his hips back, but he doesn’t make any effort to move beyond that. “You’re amazing.” He counters. “How do you feel?”

“Empty.” The pout you throw at him and the way you bat your eyelashes is purely playful, but you do already mourn the loss of not having him inside you. “I feel amazing, baby.”

“Yeah? Give me twenty minutes and if you aren’t too sore we can go again.” Dieter chuckles quietly.

“You’re on.” The giddiness of it - the lightness - makes you feel like you’re floating on air. Either every girl you know was wrong, or you now have the world’s best experience of losing your virginity.

“I think I’ve created a monster.” Dieter moans playfully, pulling his head up so he can kiss the tip of your nose. “Wanna stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” In this moment, you’re certain you would stay forever if he asked you.

“Okay.” Dieter kisses you again before he starts to actually move. “Let me get this condom off.”

******

“Clear the set!” The order goes out after everything has been readied, everyone but essential crew retreating to other tasks to allow for intimacy on set. It’s a day you’ve been anticipating with immense nerves. These last two weeks have been complicated — more time spent with Dieter and less fighting has only left you questioning how you feel about him all these years later. Things had happened that he never shared. That you never knew about. And while he still hurt you, you can understand now why he acted the way he did. Maybe even forgive it, if he ever asked you. This scene is one you have been nervous for, not for nudity but for having to be almost entirely naked in a bed with Dieter? It’s consumed almost every thought for the last few days leading up to this shoot. So much so that yesterday when he sat next to you in your trailer, you erupted in goosebumps and immediately put on a sweater.

Dieter slaps himself, looking in the mirror at his reflection. While the lack of eating had cut some unwanted pounds off of his belly, he was still nervous about this scene. Crazy considering he was never shy about flaunting his body no matter what kind of shape he was in. He was nervous now because it’s you. Since that day, things have changed but he can’t say that you have forgiven him. The awkward moments are still there, but you are treating him like he’s a fragile bird with a broken wing. Which, he is, but he doesn’t want to upset the very relieving truce between you. His own dickishness to keep you at arms length had fallen away, with a quiet desire to be with you starting to take hold.

Only a few people are on set when you come out of your trailer, wrapped in a robe and striding toward the newly-finished bedroom set that makes your palms sweat. But you’re a professional above all else, so you hand off your robe to the only production assistant and slip under the sheets.

“Remember she doesn’t actually want you.” Dieter had actually agreed to the modesty sock, even though he tries to avoid it as often as possible. The last time he had a scene where it called for one, he had taped his dick to his thigh.

“You’re wearing it?” When he hands off his robe to the PA you can’t even hate yourself for looking. You have to work with this man. To function around him. You can’t hate yourself for looking, but you can curse yourself for being affected by him. “I half expected you to show up naked like the Emperor showing off new clothing.”

“Didn’t think you would want to see me in all my middle aged glory.” Dieter jokes, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the bed. The intimacy coordinator is nearby but she had already said that she wanted to see how you organically greet each other.

“Why do you think I got here first?” You have to laugh at yourself, at least a little, being so anxious around the first man who ever saw you completely naked. It should be ridiculous, but instead your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Things have changed.” He also didn’t know what you would think about the…piercing he got after coming back to Hollywood. He doubts you’ve heard about it.

“You should get in.” Reflexively, you pull the sheets on the other side of the bedside to let him climb in, studiously keeping your eyes on his face.

It’s hard not to think back to that tiny apartment on the upper East side. Sharing a queen sized bed with you for months and thinking about asking you to move in when your lease was up. He has never told you that. Knowing it would just be another bittersweet symbol of the hurt he had done. Nodding, he slips beneath the sheets and settles on his back.

“I want to give you guys the chance to find a comfortable position organically,” Sam steps closer to the bed on set and crosses his arms over his chest. The director has no idea what has been going on between his lead actors, but he knows things are tense. “But you will have to touch. Sooner than eventually.”

Dieter twists his head and looks over at you, knowing that this scene calls for you to be on top of him. “Not like you haven’t been there before.” He murmurs quietly so no one else can hear.

You snort under your breath, knowing he’s right, and shift closer to him. It’s a simple matter of situating yourself above his waist, but you’re desperately afraid of giving yourself away when you do. Not that you might be aroused - being in a room full of relative strangers - but that he’ll remember the other things. Goosebumps and shallow breath, the way you squirm when something feels particularly good.

“It’s okay, Bambi.” Dieter knows that you are an accomplished actress. He might have a copy of every thing you’ve ever been in, but you are biting your lip like you are that shy virgin all over again. His chest aches with how badly he wants to kiss you. “You’re a professional. Just another day at work.”

“We both know it’s not.” It’s sweet of him to say so, though, and you hate the way it makes you ache that he’s started using your nickname in private again. It takes a deep breath on your part before you have the nerve to sit up, twisting the sheet around you for modesty and making it pool around the place you’re connected. It looks perfectly like you’re straddling him but you’re actually hovering a few inches north of where actual sex would require you to be. And yet? All either of you would have to do is shift once and you would be in place.

“No, it’s not.” Dieter can agree to that and his hand slowly slides up to hover over your waist. “Can I touch you?” He asks before setting his hand on your skin.

Goosebumps. You can feel them the second they happen, but there’s nothing you can do now. They’re there, and Sam has noticed enough to call for the heat to be turned up on set, mistaking it for you being cold. “We’ll never get through this if we can’t at least touch each other.”

“Figured I would ask.” He shrugs, not giving a damn if it takes longer than Sam would like. It’s more important that his partner is comfortable. He can’t flirt and joke like he would with someone else, because of your history together.

“And I appreciate that.” Tentatively, you let both of your hands down onto his chest the way the script had described. If Sam wants it changed, he can say so. Right now you’re just trying to baby step your way to even a tiny bit of comfort. “Are you…okay? I’m not sitting on you weirdly or something, am I?”

“I’m good, just let me…” Dieter slides his hand between the two of you to adjust the ‘sock’. “I’ll try to keep it under control.” He murmurs.

It takes a second, but the half-guilty and half-flattered grin that overtakes your face comes with a snort of amusement to cap it all off. You snort again, suppressing a giggle, and shake your head at him. “Good luck with that. He has a mind of his own.” Sam hasn’t said a word as he watches the two of you get comfortable, but even he smiles seeing you relax.

“Okay,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s just find the motion, before we add in the dialogue. I want you guys to see how easy or awkward or difficult it will be for you to switch places from here. Dieter, just go ahead and roll her over carefully, and that will lead us into the kiss and the rest of the dialogue.”

There is a thirty second pause. Ten seconds of that is Dieter staring up at you, as himself. Then the set of his jaw changes, his eyes darken and his brow pulls down just enough to signal a change into character. He’s not Dieter Bravo now, he’s the character he’s bringing to life. His arm swings around you and his hips roll, making a seamless transition to push you under him and as blocked out, his mouth fuses to yours in a frenzy of need and lust.

It’s acting. It’s all acting, you promise yourself, not letting yourself react in any way beyond wrapping your arms around his shoulders and returning the rapacious kiss. It’s false. Entirely the character in a way that the scenes of the two of you screaming at each other truly isn’t. “Hold.” Sam’s voice cuts through the tension, his footsteps on the wooden floor audible over the heavy breathing in the set. It might have been false, but it was still a kiss. “Try it again,” Sam insists. “Less forceful this time?” He hums while he thinks – a habit of his.

“Maybe we can get a beat of looking into each other’s eyes right before the kiss?”

That seems to be a good idea to the young director, and he nods. “Make the decision,” he tells Dieter. “I want to see you make the decision to have her.”

Dieter nods and resets, waiting for you to get back into position and covered like you had been before. It takes less time to slip into the skin of his character this time and the way he holds your eyes is more assessing before you see the way his face changes almost imperceptibly. Rolling you over again and the kiss is less forceful but just as passionate as the last.

This time your fingers are in his hair when Sam calls for a hold, and it takes you a second to come back to yourself, but the real problem is that kissing him again is doing things to you. You squirm slightly, hoping no one notices, and try to clear your mind enough to pay attention to whatever the hell Sam is saying. At the very least, you’re just determined not to make eye contact with Dieter between these rehearsal moments. It’ll give you away – but you aren’t even sure what feeling you would be betraying at this point.

“Something’s missing,” Sam is saying when you finally tune in. “There’s so much honesty…and I don’t…” He huffs out a sigh. “I don��t believe you. Either of you. When you hated each other, I believed you. The confusion, the yearning, the—everything else. But I don’t believe that when the cameras cut, you’re going to tear each other apart.”

Dieter frowns slightly. “What do you mean?” He huffs, not sure what the director is looking for. The way your hand had tugged at his hair with just the right pressure had made him start to harden. He had been working so hard on holding himself back. Not making it real.

“I mean…” Sam pauses, trying to suss out the right way to explain it. “There’s something about the other scenes that makes me hold my breath when you two get going. Something honest about them. But I’m not holding my breath now.”

“So you’re saying…” you sigh, pinned underneath Dieter and trying desperately not to react to what might be his cock twitching or might just be the fabric of the modesty sock against your thigh. “You can tell that we’re acting?”

Dieter mulls over the director's words, his fingers pressing against the divot of your hip and he nods. “We’ll reset and then I’m going to change it slightly.” He offers, looking down at you and silently asking for permission.

“You have an idea?” The question is more or less rhetorical, but he nods and you swallow your nerves. “Okay. Let’s reset.”

Dieter reaches down between you and removes the modesty sock and shoves it under the pillow to hide it from the crew as you adjust.

The second you sit up again to put your leg over his waist, your eyes widen and you look down at Dieter with an expression halfway in between murdering him and melting. Even if you'd never sat on his cock before you would definitely realize the difference between fabric and skin, and you swallow a gasp when you look down at him. "This is your idea?" You whisper, shifting on his lap to try to raise yourself up off of him so you're not sitting directly on what is now his hardening cock.

“Do you have a better idea?” Dieter shoots back with a snort before he grins at you. “Hey—”

Cutting him off by settling yourself directly on top of him isn't quite the victory you imagine it is, because you have to bite your lip to keep from reacting and end up pinching your eyes shut as you twist to wrap the sheet around you again. Thank god, at least, for pasties. No one needs to see your nipples bud and pebble with arousal. "This is going to be interesting," you murmur, looking down at him from this more-familiar position. There's a pretty solid chance that this counts as cock warming. Or it would, if your own modesty garment weren't in the way.

Dieter bites back a groan and stares up at you. “Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"The first time you asked me that, the answer was my virginity," you remind him extremely quietly, as if he might have forgotten what had happened then. The problem, though? Is that you want to say yes. You actually, completely, in this exact moment – you want to say yes.

This time, the expression is less the character and more Dieter. Letting his own emotions and confusing needs blend with that of his character, reaching up and cupping your breast over the sheet while he rolls you under him desperately.

You don't gasp this time, but whine. It's your sound, the one you make naturally, and the one that is automatic when Dieter grinds against your core. Your eyelashes flutter of their own accord and your hand reaches to grasp his hip in turn. The internal war of whether or not to succumb to him that your character is supposed to be having reads in your confused eyes as clearly as a neon sign, and this time when he leans down to kiss you, you meet him halfway there.

This time, there's a need that is more raw, realistic. It’s his need. His want that comes through the slot of his lips against yours. The subtle slide of his tongue into your mouth.

The hand you have in his hair pulls a little harder this time, your body lifts off the mattress and your other arm wraps around his torso to drag him closer instead of draping prettily on his shoulders. It's barely acting, in the sense that you're currently presenting as two fictional characters. That's the surface of what is happening, as you moan softly into his kiss. But the fact is that if he slipped inside you right now, you probably wouldn't hesitate to let him have you right there on that set. Which...is something you're going to need to think about later when your mind isn't completely fogged by desire.

Dieter doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop kissing you. His hand squeezes your tit softly, knowing that there are thirty people watching the two of you simulate working up to having sex.

Neither of you heard the command from your director to hold, too wrapped up in each other and too overwhelmed by the pounding of your own blood to have noticed. It's only when you break the kiss to have a gasp of air and turn your head to the side for Dieter to trail his lips down your neck that you open your hazy eyes and see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and a slightly gobsmacked look on his face. "Well," he chuckles, when you snap back to reality and open your eyes in his direction. "That's more like it. Let's reset and get ready to roll cameras."

Dieter pants and closes his eyes, leaning down and pressing his head against your clavicle for a second before he moves over onto his back again. “That’s what you want?” He asks Sam, wanting to make sure he doesn’t need to change anything.

"See if you can add a growl without making it sound forced." Sam chuckles at the thought and steps off the edge of the set, bound for the chair with his name on it.

Dieter chuckles, closing his eyes for a moment and blowing out a deep sigh to try to calm down his raging boner. “Sounds good.”

“Need another second?” Since you know what he did - and have an inkling as to how thin the shred of Dieter’s self control can be, you don’t want to just hop back on his waist without warning. You’d either knee him in the dick by accident or end up making him moan out loud for real.

“I’m good.” Dieter knows that you are fully aware of what is going on under the sheet, and another conversation will need to happen. He will have to apologize to you. But for now, he reaches for you so he can be as close as he can be to you.

Onto his lap one more time, you wrap the sheet around your torso artfully and let the set dresser nitpick the specific placement of things until she’s satisfied and steps away. You place your hands on his bare chest and note with a frown that his own previously pierced nipple has healed through, but school your expression back into place when Sam calls for “Action!”

This time, Dieter gives the scene his all. Taking his need up a notch and just like Sam had asked, he included a small growl into the scene as he rolls you under him again and presses against you.

It’s a fucking miracle you can remember your lines or deliver then clearly enough for the boom mic hanging a foot and a half over Dieter’s head to pick up, because when Sam calls cut you half want to kick everyone off set and just rip the sheet away. “Let’s just set up for the next scene,” Sam instructs, sending the crew scurrying all around you. “Guys, you’re doing great,” he promises, stepping back up onto the set. “I want to try the image two ways – once spooning and once having you face each other. We’ll see which one we like better in post, okay?”

“S-sure—” You manage a vague nod, trying to remember what the next shot even is. Ah. Right. It’s him watching you sleep. The page in the script has whispered words of love and a kiss to your head while you sleep, and you had decided stubbornly not to read it ever again after the read through. The idea of Dieter ever saying sweet things to you again had been horrible at the time. But now? It twists deep in your heart how much you have to admit to missing those days.

The first set up is Dieter facing you. He’s managed to slip back on the modesty sock and his cock is only half hard now that the scene has cooled down and he doesn’t have his hands on you. “You good, Bambi?” He asks quietly after you get positioned.

“I’m good.” You have to be. There’s no option to go running off the set because you got horny and emotional during the last shot. “I just…” A soft exhale comes when you rest your head on the pillow next to him. “I wasn’t expecting Sam to want more.”

“No, no, no.” Sam huffs, like he has developed sonar hearing out of nowhere. “Get closer. You guys look like you’re politely keeping your distance at your in-laws. Sprawl out over Dieter,” he instructs you, coming back onto the set to look at things from the angle he wants. “One leg over his, hand on his chest. Intimate.”

Dieter reaches for you, pulling you closer and draping his arm around you. He moves closer and presses his face right up against you. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly.

“Hey.” It’s just a little whisper, but you smile as you flick your eyes up to look at him before closing them again when Sam pronounces the shot to be perfect. “You’re comfy,” you murmur before you can stop yourself, and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

Dieter sighs softly, reaching up and his fingers brush over your cheek. “Dee! Wait for the call!” Sam yells, making him drop his hand. That part hadn’t been scripted.

“Yeah, Dee,” you can’t help the way you giggle under your breath, like you ought to be sticking out your tongue at him. Under the sheets, though, your hand comes to rest softly on his chest after not really being sure where to go. It’s a small gesture of comfort between you, but it’s there.

There's a small grin, quickly squashed before you close your eyes and Dieter settles down. When the director finally calls 'Action!', he reaches up again to brush your face lightly as he watches your face. "I do love you." He whispers softly, "I'm not a good man, I don't know why I am the way I am. I don't want to say the things that come out of my mouth." He murmurs quietly. "You are my world, even when you aren't around."

Professionalism, you remind yourself, trying desperately to keep your eyes shut and not react at all even though you’re fighting every instinct you have that wants to surge up and kiss him now that that dam has been broken again. It’s all you can do to keep perfectly still until Sam calls cut and tells you to hold your position so they can fiddle with the camera position for another angle. Your eyes flutter open, lip bitten as you try not to smile too much. “Good line delivery,” you murmur quietly, looking up at Dieter from your place in his chest.

"Dee, Dee." Sam tuts and walks over. "You are a man in love." He stresses. "Obsessed and yet completely aware that you have treated your lady wrong. This is supposed to be almost like your act of atonement." He sighs and motions. "Reset."

“You okay?” The direction seems harsh to you, but you don’t want to get in the middle of things. Your only job right now is to not react, but you still check on him.

"I'm good." Dieter brushes off your concern and waits for you to close your eyes again. Channeling images of the last time he saw you twelve years ago, watching you take your bow on stage before he turned around and walked out of that theatre and your life "Action!"

There’s something Sam is looking for but he can’t quite describe it. There’s a feeling that he’s gotten from the other big scenes that has made him want to alternately jump out of his chair in excitement or apologize for intruding on such an intimate moment. That’s what he’s looking for.

There are tears in his eyes when the director calls for the scene to end. The dialogue changed slightly, more personalized. Words that he had wished he could have said to you so many years ago come pouring out of his mouth as his fingers fan your face, tenderly brush over your features as if he’s memorizing every curve and valley.

“I don’t think we need to do the other set up.” Sam decides, apparently satisfied with the set up and the reset he has just gotten. With his hands on his hips, he seems to look at you and Dieter in that bed on set but not see you at all. “Good work today. Let’s call it an early night tonight.”

Blinking, Dieter shuffles back from you as Desiree rushes over with his robe. "Good work, Dee." She coos as he sits up and shrugs into the robe. He's a little raw, unable to look over at you at the moment as the lines between his character and himself have blurred more than he had anticipated. "Thanks."

“Dee?” Sadie has your robe out to you barely a second later, and you thank her with a nod and a silent moment of eye contact before turning back to him. “Can we…um…can we maybe talk?” The last few weeks have been so careful – such a tiptoeing around each other – that you haven’t done much meaningful talking. Just surface level stuff or spending time together in relative silence. Now, though, you feel like you need to talk to him or you’ll burst.

Nodding, he stands and quickly ties the robe shut. “Ten minutes?” He asks, needing a few moments to try and find an emotional balance so he doesn’t collapse against you and sob. “Or back at the hotel?”

“I’ll meet you at your trailer and we can drive back together?” You’re afraid of losing your nerve if you wait too long, but you also don’t want to scare him. Dieter can be like a horse sometimes – he spooks easily.

Agreeing, he gives you a quick nod and turns around to practically run back to the safety of his trailer. Feeling exposed and vulnerable as Desiree rushes along beside him.

“Do you guys have plans tonight?” You loop one arm through Sadie’s on the way back to your own trailer, trying to keep your spirits up.

“Just a night in.” Sadie admits with a grin. The relationship is everything she’s wanted and to be honest, she’s not looking forward to when the filming wraps. “With Dieter behaving, Desiree wants to stick close by just in case and to relax.”

“So if I send a bottle of something bubbly and dessert from room service, should it be to your room or hers?” Seeing Sadie this happy has been such a sweet thing. She’s not only fantastically on the ball as an employee but she’s also been just a wonderful influence on your life in general, and you want to do everything you can to help that happiness grow for her.

“I think I’m staying in her room tonight. But you don’t have to do that.” She protests. “Dieter just has her room number memorized and he might call on the hotel phone since he likes that better than cell phones.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” At the door to your trailer, you unlock and push inside first to let her in after you. “You take such amazing care of me. If I can do little things now and then to make you smile, I’m going to.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you back to the hotel?” She had assumed you meant to ride with Dieter and the assistants ride together since the cars needed to get back.

“You and Des enjoy some quiet time. I’ll drive Dieter and me.” Amongst other eccentricities, the man hates to drive. It’s secretly one of the reasons he loves cities and having an assistant. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car voluntarily since he got his license. “I—honestly I kind of need to talk to him. And I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to say.”

“The scenes were very…intimate.” Sadie answers honestly. “I know you are on better terms but talking will be good.”

“It was…a lot more intimate than it looked.” Disappearing into the tiny trailer bathroom to peel the modesty garment off your skin – thank god for bikini waxes – you re-emerge a second later and step into the little bedroom for clean clothes. “If not for that shred of adhesive, we would officially be making a porn.”

“Did he remove the sock?” Sadie asks, “Desiree swears she saw him remove the sock.”

Half-dressed, you stick just your head around the door of the little room to look Sadie dead in the eyes. “Oh yeah.” You confirm with a look of slight desperation. “Your girlfriend’s got a sharp eye.”

“Jesus.” Sadie shakes her head in horror. “I– what was he thinking?” She is still operating under the assumption that while things are better between you, you want nothing to do with Dieter Bravo once this movie ends.

“That it would be a more authentic reaction from both of us.” You shove away from the door again long enough to pull on your blouse and cardigan before coming out. “Which, let’s be fair. He was right. But I—” You blow out a breath and shrug your shoulders almost desperately. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Sadie. I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what he wants either. It’s going to drive me crazy to do this whole movie without knowing when he’s crossing the line into reality and when he’s not.”

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open slightly. Realizing that her boss is falling in love with the man who broke her heart again. “Yes.” She decides firmly, nodding. “You need to talk.”

“The trouble is that talking to Dieter Bravo is like talking to a forest sprite or a fae or something.” With another shake off your head, you reach into the mini fridge for your water bottle and sigh after a sip. “You’re not going to get a straight answer, or if you do, it’s not going to be anything like you expected. And it’s going to cost you just for asking.”

“But you love him.” She murmurs quietly.

“I—” Most of the time, you really would like to think that you know yourself. The things that you want and the things that will help you be healthy and happy. Right now? You really don’t know if the thing you want is going to be good for you at all. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” you admit quietly. “I don’t think you can be as angry as I was with him for so long without there still being love left. That’s why it hurt so much.”

Sadie walks over to you, taking your hands in hers and staring into your eyes. “I love you, you are my friend and I want nothing but the best for you.” She assures you softly. “Talk to him. Be honest and make sure you know what you are getting into.”

“I love you too, honey.” While most of Hollywood would tell you that you were silly or overly sentimental for being friends with your assistant, but you hold her in a tight hug and let the tension roll out of you for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She’ll cross her fingers and her toes for you if it means that you can have a significant, meaningful conversation with Dieter.

Dieter’s trailer is only a few doors down, and you walk over together so Sadie can pick up Desiree at the same time. You swear it feels like walking out in front of a judge when you knock on the trailer door, but since you haven’t been sick from nerves in years, it’s still a win.

Desiree opens the door with a grin. “Come on in. Dieter is just finishing getting dressed.”

“Long day.” The sun has well since set, and if it weren’t for how tense the last few hours had been, you would probably be starving.

“It has been.” Desiree nods, having calmed her boss down enough to be able to change and interact like a semi-normal human being after a small cry. “We are planning on marking it an early night. And he asked me to order room service for both of you.”

“That sounds like a good plan. And thank you.” Desiree’s exceptional eye for details and time spent with Sadie means she zeroed in on your favorite foods extremely quickly and anytime you’ve eaten with Dieter or as a group, she’s been pretty on point ordering for you. Although, the last time that the four of you all had room service together, you had splurged on luxury items and watched a few episodes of Black Sails together. That was actually a very fun night.

Dieter emerges from the back bedroom wearing a pair of loose palazzo style pants, a t-shirt and a crocheted sweater with his crocs. Hair still wet from his five minute shower and his face shiny and free of makeup. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly when he sees you, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously.

“Hey.” It’s such a small word for all the big things you’re feeling, but you put on a smile and point your finger at the door. “I’ll drive. You can look out the windows or meditate on the way back if you want.”

Swallowing hastily, Dieter nods. "Thanks, you know how much I hate driving." Especially here he was always driving on the wrong damn side of the road. It was nerve wracking. "Are you ready? I'm ready."

“Yeah, I’m ready.” To drive, anyway. You have no idea if you’re ready for this conversation. At least the hotel isn’t more than a twenty-minute drive away.

“Okay.” Dieter is the last one out of the trailer even though Desiree locks it for him. Trailing behind you and waiting for some kind of sign about what you want to talk about. Fingers twitching as he reaches for the ever-present candy in his pocket.

“You’re not in trouble,” you murmur with a shake of your head, opening his door for him when you reach the rental car.

“Shouldn’t I open the door for you?” He frowns at the reversal of roles and the way that all the women in his life are walking on eggshells around him right now.

“I was just trying to be nice…” It makes you frown much more deeply than you expected when the small act of kindness seems to upset him. And within seconds you’re rethinking everything you wanted to say, wondering if you didn’t just get caught up in the moment with him all over again.

“I know.” He blows out a sigh and shakes his head as you put on your seatbelt. “I just – I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not – I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” If you surprise yourself with the honesty of it, he must be shocked. “Not really. I mean…I could have told you no. Or to put the damn sock back on. But I didn’t.” Both of you are buckled in and the car is on, but you haven’t pulled out of the lot yet. “Maybe it says more about me than it does about you, I don’t know. But the last few weeks have really…they’ve really proved to me…” You blow out an unsteady breath. “How much I’ve missed you.”

He bites his lip, closing his eyes and wondering briefly if he’s imagined you saying that. He’s had auditory hallucinations when he’s detoxed before and it’s been nearly seventy-two hours since he’s done anything more potent than weed or ‘shrooms. “I– can you say that again.” He begs softly. “Please?”

Your hand reaches carefully over the console, covering his larger one but not pressing any further. Just simple skin on skin in the most innocent way possible. “I missed you, Dee.”

“I miss you too.” Dieter turns his hand over and squeezes yours when your palm hits his. “I– today was– it wasn’t my character.” He confesses quietly. “It was me.”

“Apparently, it was both.” There’s a certain amount of pride in your voice for that fact, and you squeeze his hand back more tightly this time. “But…I was sort of hoping you would say that…that I was right when I heard you through the lines.”

“I’ve never done that.” He shakes his head in amazement. “Never.”

“Not even the first day of filming?” It seems silly to ask, but that moment had felt so real. Hell, it had been real enough for you to go berserk on him at the tea shop.

Dieter frowns and tries to remember what the first day of filming was. His brows shoot up when he remembers. “No.” He shakes his head furiously. “Not– no, I– not even then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull the slap.” It was unprofessional if nothing else, and you do regret hurting him. It had been such a horrible, complicated day. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. No matter how upset I was.”

“I deserved it.” Dieter can admit that. He absolutely deserved that. He had been hurt that you had seemed to anticipate it with glee, but he thinks you hadn’t enjoyed it very much afterwards. You hadn’t gloated, at least.

“This is the kind of stuff I wanted to talk to you about.” Carefully pulling the car out of its space and through the lot, you weave into London nighttime traffic deftly. “I just…I’m anxious as hell to talk about any of this. But I feel like the longer I put it off…I’ll psych myself out or convince myself that I’m overreacting. Or reading into things too much.”

“If I overstepped…..I’m sorry.” Dieter turns his head and looks out at the passing city. His heart aches when he realizes that he had been hoping for some kind of reunion of sorts but it sounds like you are not interested. “I know that when we are done with the press junket and whatever that you won’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Dee...” His hand is still encompassing yours and you thread your fingers through his when you hear the heartbreak in his voice. “That’s kind of the opposite of where I wanted to go with this conversation,” you admit quietly.

“Wha—” he doesn’t trust himself to ask that question. Instead he just turns and looks at you in confusion.

“I don’t know how any of this will work with us now.” When you sigh this time it’s admitting to yourself that yes, this conversation is happening in a moving vehicle so no, you absolutely can’t cry during it. “We’re different people than we used to be in a lot of ways, but at the same time the fundamentals of who we are…well, they’re kind of baked into us.” At the next stop light, you turn to look at him and are so sure you see hope in his eyes. “And I don’t know how it would work. Or if it would work. But of all the things I regret, I don’t want to regret not taking a second chance when we had it.”

“You want….me?” Dieter asks, bewildered by that confession. “Like– another chance? You want to give me another chance?” He’s so confused, but his voice breaks. “Y-yeah.”

“I had planned on being more eloquent than this.” A whole speech had been forming in your head, rolling over and over as you tried to figure out exactly what you wanted to say. But in the end it has turned out not to matter. “I had this whole plan. I was going to have champagne and chocolates sent to Sadie and Des and to us and make it this whole romantic thing and I just…please don’t take the fact that I asked you like this instead of doing something absurdly romantic to mean that I’m any less sincere.”

“You wanted to give me chocolates and champagne?” His voice sounds awe-filled, as if he had never even had someone consider doing something like that for him. “We can still have them. I’ll order them.” He offers, squeezing your hand again.

“Then it’s you giving them to me and not me giving them to you…” The distinction is important to you, considering there was a time when you couldn’t give him more than a glass of water.

“I–okay.” He murmurs quietly. “Um,” he glances back at you briefly before looking out the window again. “This isn’t because you feel sorry for me, is it?” He doesn’t know if it would hurt him more or less than he had already been hurting.

“No.” The speed of your answer should probably speak for yourself, but you still keep a hold of his hand. “Pity isn’t a foundation for a relationship.”

His sigh of relief is quiet, but he knows you hear it. Realistically, he knows he doesn’t deserve another chance. Not after what he’s done, but you are giving him one. “Good.”

“It’s…” you steer the car into the underground parking below the hotel you’re staying at and glance over at him as darkness overtakes the car. “It’s because kissing you…even on set, even through the lens of characters…” Your voice is shaking as you park the car and you can hear it, so there’s no doubt he can too. “Kissing you today felt like coming home.”

“I’ve never been happier than in that little shitty apartment, wrapped up with you.” Dieter admits, swallowing down the thick emotions. “Not even winning that fucking Oscar.”

Now that the car is parked and things are out in the open, you sink back in your seat and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Maybe we’ll win one together this time,” you tease, trying not to think of the note he sent to your house after you lost a few months ago. That wasn’t really him. It was a coping mechanism.

“Yeah.” Dieter nods. “I meant what I said to you. You deserved it, and hopefully next time you’re nominated, you win.”

“You sent me a note that said ‘Whoops. Better luck when Meryl isn’t nominated.’” Actually saying it out loud makes you pause, and you shake your head at yourself for getting so wrapped up in seven stupid words.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, wincing slightly. “It’s Meryl, I’m happy I don’t have to go up against her.” He huffs. “You would have won if her movie had come out the next year.”

“Come on.” One more squeeze of his hand and you let it go to pull the keys from the ignition and retrieve your purse from the backseat. “Let’s go upstairs? I’ll catch hell from Desiree if I don’t feed you, and that girl is scary when she defends you.”

Chuckling, he climbs out of the car. “She scares me.” He admits with a grin. “I think that’s why my agent loves her.”

“Your agent loves her because she is impossible for you to talk into your bed.” You grin at him as you round the hood of the car and hold out your hand for him to take again.

“That too.” He admits shamelessly. “Girl doesn’t like dick at all.” He huffs, smirking slightly. She had a knack for putting him in his place and it was something that was needed every now and again.

“She and Sadie have that in common.” The elevator to go upstairs isn’t far away and you let Dieter press the call button as you unconsciously lean into his side. “They’re very sweet together. I think Sadie’s nervous that you and I won’t be on good terms when filming ends. Like that would affect their relationship. I didn’t…I didn’t really tell her what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Not all of it, anyway.”

“You aren’t giving me another chance because of your assistant, are you?” He’s joking, but he stares at you suspiciously.

“No.” The elevator doors open and you nudge him inside, pressing the button for your floor yourself. “I’m asking if you want to try again because I’ve…I’ve never loved anyone in the world as much as you.”

“There’s a reason why I couldn’t get a relationship to last.” Dieter admits quietly. “They weren’t you. And I fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“Well…” The elevator car starts to move and you shrug a little. “Better later than never. Isn’t it?”

“Twelve years later.” Dieter sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bambi.”

“The person who owes us both an apology is your father.” Something which you will never get, unfortunately. “But barring that? I’d say…maybe we focus on the future instead of the past?”

The idea of a fresh start isn’t new to Dieter, they talk about that shit all the time in therapy but he bobbles his head, wanting it now. “Okay.” He agrees quickly.

From the elevator to his room, the two of you stay connected long enough to get inside and long enough for you to call room service for those bottles of bubbly and boxes of chocolates that you had planned for. According to the staff member on the other end, Desiree has already arranged your dinners. “I swear,” you hum, resting your head on his chest. “Between the two of them, they might start reading our minds.”

“I think they know us better than we know ourselves.” Dieter huffs, pleased that you have wanted to do something for him. “Um–” Dieter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, a little shy about showing you his sketchbook since you had freaked out last time. “Do you want to see the rest of my sketches?” He asks quietly. You’ve done something for him, so he wants to do the same.

"Yes." They're intensely personal to him, you understand that now. It was something you couldn't wrap your head around before and you're embarrassed by how you reacted weeks ago. "I'm sorry I–um...is there any real way to repair the book? I'm so sorry, Dee..."

“I redrew it.” Dieter admits. “When I was – when I was high.”

"You've been doing that less." There's no judgment behind it. It's just an observation on your part. He's barely touched anything in the last few weeks, and nothing dangerous at that.

“You said you were worried.” Dieter explains. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

"How do you feel without it?" Mostly you were worried that he was going to overdose out of sheer desperation or depression, but from everything you can see, he's actually doing okay being more sober on a day-to-day basis. Or maybe he's just a good enough actor to get through the daily motions of life on autopilot.

“I–I don’t know?” He shrugs carelessly. “Weird. It’s all too bright.”

"That's the pot. It makes you more photosensitive. Not to a degree that could hurt you, but just enough that sunglasses are good." You follow him through to the bedroom of his suite where he keeps his sketchbooks, shrugging your own shoulders in turn when he looks at you in confusion. "I–I did some reading. In case you started having withdrawal symptoms or anything like that."

“I don’t know if I should have known or shake my head at you.” He snorts. “I’m sure you could have asked Desiree. I think the woman has a binder of all the drugs I take and their effects.”

"I wanted to put in the effort myself." It means a lot to you, to be able to step out of your comfort zone for him, and it probably is an obvious clue that you still felt strongly about him far before you were able to admit it to yourself. "What if something happened to you on her day off? Or in the middle of the night when I'm here and she isn't?"

Dieter swallows and feels guilty for putting so much responsibility on you. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay." Your hand touches his arm gently and you offer him a smile, not wanting to dwell on too many heavy things all at once. "Do you still want to show me your sketches?"

“Yeah.” Dieter picks up the book and hesitates for a moment before he offers it to you. Reminding himself that you wouldn’t tear it up again. Maybe you would be impressed with the sketches now that you aren’t angry at him.

Cradling the book carefully, you sit down on the edge of the perfectly made bed and smile at the fact that Desiree found time to make it – because he certainly didn't do it himself. The early pages of the sketchbook are rough images of your face with your eyes closed, followed by several more that concentrate entirely on your eyes being open. As the book goes on, the images become larger and more varied. A full page is dedicated to a sketching of you wearing a dress that you particularly loved – it had been in magazines, if you recall correctly. The designer was someone previously unknown who had sent you a thank you card for mentioning her name to a reporter. The ones of you smiling are the most remarkable, though. With nothing but pencils, paper, and raw talent, he's made you more lifelike in that book that you are in some days of your own life. "They're..." you exhale shakily when you flip to a page that shows you sleeping. One hand lays in front of your face with a ring on your finger, almost like a dream. "They're stunning, Dee. You're incredible."

“I–” Dieter reaches out and touches the binding of the book. “I bring this book with me everywhere.” He admits quietly. “Desiree never touches my backpack. I don’t allow her to. It’s my carryon.”

"You bring me everywhere?" It touches you far more than you can really say, sticking in your throat and making you swallow thickly.

“Yeah.” Dieter knows that it’s dumb, perhaps even creepy to someone if they were to think about it. “Just– wanted you to know.”

"I'm flattered." When you reach for this hand this time you press a kiss to his palm and smile. "And I'm sorry again for...for being so over dramatic about discovering them. You have every right to express yourself and keep your memories however you want to."

“I get it.” He hadn’t been able to recreate that sketch in the new book. Not wanting to see that look again. “I understand, I do.”

"Maybe in the future there can be happier reasons to draw." Trying as hard as you can to lighten the mood, you tip your chin back to look at him and waggle your eyebrows. "Or sexy reasons?"

“Yeah?” Dieter’s brows shoot up and he gets a hopeful look on his face. “Would you model for me sometime?”

"I'm surprised you never asked me to before." You chew on your lip, brows furrowing. "Or...did you not draw back then?"

“Not really. Nothing beyond doodles.” Dieter snorts. “The idea of Baxter Bravo’s son being an artist beyond the silver screen was never an option.”

"You can do whatever you want now, you know." Arguably, he could before. But abusive parents have a way of caging in their children that cannot be easily broken. "I mean...even if you wanted to go as far as quitting acting altogether, you could."

“What the hell would I do?” Dieter’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Not even imagining what he would do since he’s not doing as many drugs and he doubts you would be interested in orgies.

"I'm not saying that you have to, or even that you should. You're an amazing actor, and you did deserve that Oscar." A knock on the suite door has you standing from his bed and putting the sketchbook back down on the blankets. "I just want you to be happy. That's all."

Happy. What would that entail? He frowns as you open the door, thinking about what would actually make him happy. You, for one. You would make him happy. He watches as they wheel in the cart of food and you sign off on the bill. “What did she order us?” He asks, striding over as the server discreetly exits.

"Looks like a roast dinner for two." The covered platters of beef, potatoes, carrots, peas, and Yorkshire pudding are as English as it gets, and the boat of gravy is steaming away happily. Beside it, the ice bucket of champagne and box of chocolates are a decadent cap to the meal. "She ordered us a celebration."

“Sounds good.” Dieter has showered but you are still wearing remnants of the makeup from the set. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” He asks, wondering if you would go back to your room after dinner or stay. Feeling off kilter from the way things have turned out. Who knew you would be the stronger of the two of you?

“Five minutes?” Considering your room is right next to his, you could be in and out in no time and come back in pajamas. “Everything will stay warm if we keep the lids on and…if today’s already been a lot we can just watch a movie or something. I don’t really mind…I just…” It feels so silly, yet it’s true. “I just want to be around you.”

“You could always shower here.” He offers quietly. “But – no, that’s stupid.” He shakes his head and waves. “Go shower and change. I’ll be right here.”

“Why is that stupid?” You tilt your head at him.

“You don’t have clothes and I–” he shrugs one shoulder. “I know that it’s dumb to not want you to leave for five minutes.”

“I—” Biting back the suggestion at first, a smirk ends up creeping across your face anyway. “If I shower after dinner I just…might not get dressed afterward?” It wasn’t so many hours ago that he was grinding against you in that bed on set and the memory is still making you a little hazy.

Dieter has been trying sooooo hard not to turn things sexual, especially given the way that he had finally been on even ground with you. Groaning quietly, he bites his lip. “What would you wear?” He’s a little breathless at the thought, remembering how you looked even with the modesty garments on.

“Um…I was kind of leaning toward wearing nothing? But I can borrow one of your shirts if that’s too fast or too uncomfortable.” The question makes you stumble a little, wondering if you misread any of the conversation that the two of you have been having. He had said that nothing this afternoon was faked, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready to just dive into bed with you.

Dieter closes his eyes for a moment, lips parted as if he is in prayer. “I–I can’t guarantee I won’t get down on my fucking knees and beg to touch you,” he admits, cock twitching in his pants. “Fuck.”

The reverence and desperation in his voice has your eyes flicking up to meet his again, and your lips twist into a relieved smile. “I wouldn’t be suggesting that I get naked in your hotel room unless you were going to be allowed to touch me.”

“You– want to have sex with me?” Dieter asks, slowly opening his eyes. “Or– is this something where I need to make things up to you?” He’s had partners that have been more dominant and denied him an orgasm. He didn’t mind it, as long as he got to eventually cum.

“It’s not a game.” You never played psychological games with him back then and you sure as hell aren’t going to start now. “I thought…after what happened on set…that you wanted to?”

“I want to.” Dieter nearly makes himself dizzy, nodding so quickly. “I– fuck, I’m aching.” He admits. “Been hard all goddamn day around you.”

“Yeah…” You smirk a little, cheeks burning at the memory. “I noticed.”

“No one could get me as hard as you fucking could with a look.” He huffs, pouting at you like it’s entirely your fault.

“Well I’m very sorry.” You’re not. At all. And your tone would make it obvious even if you weren’t stepping closer to him. “I’ll make sure never to look at you like I want you again.”

“You better.” Dieter whines. “I want sex in my relationship with you.”

Just hearing him say he wants a relationship - any kind of relationship - with you is enough to make you giddy, but this little back and forth you're having is fun. "We generally had a lot more trouble keeping our hands off of each other than not, if I remember correctly."

“I am older.” He warns you with a grimace. “And drugs can sometimes make things…uh, not hard.”

"I don't expect either of us to have the same sex drive we had in our early twenties." That would be completely ridiculous, and you reach out to offer him a place in your arms with a soft smile. "Things aren't going to be the same as they used to be, and that's fine. We're different people than we were. For now, all I care about is that you're willing to give this a try."

“I want that.” He doesn’t have to think about it. Of course he wants to have a relationship with you. He’s wanted you ever since he walked away.

"Then...?" You hold out your arms again with a little shrug, still hoping for a hug or almost anything that isn't propelled by a script or a set. As intense as filming had been, and as honest, it was still not fully you.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you want a hug and Dieter rockets forward to wrap his arms around you. Sighing softly. There's a distinct difference between how Dieter holds people on set versus in real life when he's only himself. When he's himself it's like being enveloped in the beaming embrace of summer sun. He's a blanket of warmth and comfort that could best be compared to hugging a weighted blanket. Your nose burrows into his chest and you let out a sigh that almost matches his, squeezing your arms tightly around him before just relaxing into him.

“This is nice.” He hums. Rubbing your back gently as he tries to stretch out the much needed hug.

"You've always been a sucker for cuddles," you chuckle softly, nuzzling against him as naturally as breathing. "Glad to see that hasn't changed."

“Didn’t get this when I was a kid.” He murmurs, not bothering to even try to move away.

"Glad to change that for you." The food can get cold, for all you care. Having him with his arms around you again is the most heavenly comfort that you've been without for so long. No one gives hugs like Dieter does.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms. The comfort of the moment is one that neither one of you is willing to give up. Not until he realizes that it’s getting late and you have to be uncomfortable with the makeup and adhesives from modesty garments still sticking to your skin. “Go shower. I will set up our plates in front of the tv.” He offers as he pulls away.

"If you insist." It takes you a second to open your eyes, and even longer to be willing to let your arms drop from him. "I'm going to steal one of your t-shirts to wear while we eat, if that's okay?"

“Yeah.” He grins, biting his lip and congratulates himself on not immediately popping off with something dirty. “That’s okay with me. They are huge and comfortable.”

"I'll be right back." It's only a single moment of hesitation, but you decide that you've talked enough for it to be safe and you lean forward to kiss his cheek before turning to head through his bedroom to the large bathroom that matches your own on the other side of the wall.

Dieter rubs his cheek, grinning again as he rushes over to the dresser where Desiree had put all his clothes. Picking out the softest shirt he had that wasn’t currently on his body.

Some old habits apparently will never die, and you’re grateful to see that Dieter’s obsessive exfoliation is one of them. His loofah is perfect for scrubbing away the last remnants of the work day, and whatever fancy formula shampoo he talked about once in an interview that he now has a lifetime supply of, is divine. Five minutes in scalding hot water from start to finish and you feel like a new person when you step out of the shower. There’s a towel on the counter that you didn’t put there and you smile to yourself – an expression that only grows wider when you step out into the bedroom after drying off to find that he’s picked out a t-shirt for you. It’s soft as a feather and a nondescript blue-gray color that looks as though he’s worn it a hundred times or more, and you’re swimming in the stretched out cotton when you put it on. After a quick debate about whether or not to dig through your eternally over-packed purse for the clean panties you know are in there through force of habit, you decide not to. You’ve already talked about having sex tonight. If you decide not to? Well, you can put panties on then.

He has moved the dinner from the couch to the bed and back again nearly half a dozen times. Unsure of when he became this neurotic, he justifies himself with the fact that he wants to make things good for you. Despite you wanting him, he knows he needs to make up for the hurt he had caused you. So now the plates are sitting on the coffee table and he’s even dug out those candles that were in the large gift basket waiting in his room when he arrived a month ago. The small lamp, the only other source of light beyond the tv, already turned to a movie that he vaguely remembers you enjoying.

"I was only gone for five or six minutes..." When you step out of the bedroom to find the living room has been transformed into a little oasis of romance, you almost sigh audibly. Candles and dim light accentuate the still screen of a favorite drama he's pulled up on the tv, and your dinner is sat out in front of the couch with the ice bucket of champagne and two glasses standing ready. It's so sweet that it makes your face burn. "You went for romance and I went slightly slutty."

“I like slutty.” Dieter nearly shouts it. “I like it a lot. Slutty romance.” He nods, patting the couch. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing panties?”

"You want to find out?" Of course he does, but you can't resist teasing him a little. You saunter up to the sofa to sit down next to him and make sure to flash him just a tiny bit in the process.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” He hisses, eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs until you cross them. “Eating– we– we need to eat.” He reminds himself.

"Sorry if the waxing is a disappointment," you eye him as you both pick up your plates. "But those modesty things we have to wear are sticky and the last thing I want to do after a day of filming is pull out my pubic hair by hand."

“It’s your hair.” He shakes his head slightly and shrugs. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

"I distinctly remember being told that you liked the au natural look because it was womanly." It's not as though you've forgotten a single thing from that night. It was one of the most important nights of your life. And happiest, honestly.

He smirks, remembering how suave that had sounded at the time. “That was good, wasn’t it?” He hums, sliding closer to you. “Smooth.”

"Considering how desperately in love with you I already was, you probably could have just grunted at me and I would have thought it was the sexiest thing in the whole world." It's honest, at least, and you lean into his side with the champagne bottle in your hands. "But it was definitely smooth."

“You’ve done really well.” Dieter compliments. “Your career is amazing and Heat Rush is probably one of my favorite movies of yours.”

"You've actually seen my movies?" It shouldn't surprise you, considering you now know he's had feelings for you all along, but it still makes you flush hot and duck your head before concentrating on uncorking the champagne bottle.

“I don’t watch my own movies, but I watch yours.” What that says about him, he’s not quite sure, but he shrugs and tries not to look too pleased with himself for you suddenly seeming bashful. “I was invited to a couple of your premieres, but I’d have ruined it for you if I had shown up.”

"Well, you're going to have to come now." Concentrating on pouring out two glasses means you don't have to look him in the eye, which saves you from looking him in the eye and letting him see how touched you really are. "Can't have my agent trying to manufacture a date for me when I can take an actual date to things."

“That might be better for you, considering my reputation.” Dieter knows the image that he has crafted for himself, so often compared his father.

Frowning, you had him a glass of champagne and examine his face before shaking your head. "Do you really think that I would hide the fact that I love you?"

“People will talk.” He points out, not upset about it, he doesn’t care what people think. About him. You are a different story. “Start a countdown for how long it takes until it blows up.”

"And?" The shrug of your shoulders is pointed as you turn to face him on the couch. "Worst case scenario is we find out we are very different people than we used to be, and we part as friends." A scenario – as you call it – which is highly unlikely because you doubt you could ever just be his friend, but if he decided that he didn't want to be with you after all you would take whatever relationship you got to have with him. "But if you ask me? It will be fun to watch them all eat their words one by one when we prove everybody wrong."

Everyone who has ever tried to ‘date’ him in the last twelve years has tried to change him. To make sure that his image is revamped and they prove to the world that they are the one who ‘tamed Dieter Bravo’, like they used to want to do with his dad and Warren Beatty. Although Beatty was a bigger prize since he had never married. Baxter was always sore about that. To hear you just casually say that their opinions would change is refreshing.

"I wouldn't start something with you if I didn't think it could last," you tell him, hoping that he remembers your policy of honesty in relationships. It had served the two of you well right up until the day his father stepped between you. "And...I would hope that you feel that same way."

“I just don’t want you to regret it.” Dieter admits. “You have before.”

“What I regretted was a situation I didn’t fully understand.” You put your glass down and sit up fully, trying to figure out if this is him telling you to run. If he unconsciously is trying to give you some signal or other. If it is, unconscious isn’t good enough. “The only reason I would back off now is if you told me that you didn’t want me for some reason. But the inability to see the future isn’t a reason not to try.”

Dieter nods and reaches for your hand. “I’m scared.” He admits. “I know if you walked away from me – hypocrisy, I know – it would kill me. Because I walked away and it nearly killed me then.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Your fingers twine together and you squeeze his hand gently. “I’m scared, too. But…life is kind of terrifying on its own. So I’d rather be scared with the person I love than without you.”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “I know. I just–” frowning, he turns his eyes towards you seriously. “I’m tired of hurting you.” He confesses. “I’m worried that I will.”

“Then how about we talk about things?” It seems so easy and so obvious, but sitting down and having a serious conversation can be one of the most difficult things in the world sometimes. “Any time one of us is feeling off-kilter, or worried, or anything like that - we talk about it before it gets bad. That way we don’t ever get to the point of something dramatic or hurtful happening.”

That’s the smartest thing to do, but no one has ever accused Dieter of being the brightest. Still, he’s willing to do anything in order to make sure he doesn’t screw up again. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that. And I– I’ll start writing down when I’m feeling off.”

"We can set aside some journaling or sketching time, if you want." You tilt your head at him, knowing he doesn't know you keep a journal. You hadn't back then. "It's...something I've been doing since I started seeing a therapist a long time ago. I don't see her very frequently anymore, but I've kept up with my journal. It helps me keep my thoughts straight."

He winces slightly. “I can only imagine what is written in them about me.” He’s not vain enough to think you’ve thought about him a lot over the past twelve years unless it’s when he runs into you and there’s some little spat.

Frankly, you don't want him to imagine it. There've been some truly not-very-nice things that you've thought about him over the last decade, but they all came from a place of being hurt. A place that you are very much not in anymore. "It doesn't matter anymore," you promise him, picking up your glass again. "What matters is that we are good going forward. Together."

He chuckles and lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?” He teases. “I deserve it. I picked at you to keep you angry at me.” He admits.

"It was easier to be angry than to admit that I was still hurting." You shrug slightly and take a sip from your glass. "But that's...that's when I didn't want to admit to myself that I was hurt because I still have feelings for you."

“I’m surprised you do.” He’s gobsmacked by that if he’s honest. “I would have imagined it would have resulted in you not pissing on me if I was on fire.”

"Love seems to be a very illogical thing." Nudging him to pick up his plate, you trade your glass for your own dinner. "Fortunately, I'm a stubborn and illogical person to begin with, so I'm okay with it."

Laughing, he shakes his head and holds up his champagne glass to yours. “To being completely illogical.” He offers with a smile.

“Here, here.” Now that is something you will absolutely drink to.

Once the mini toast is done, Dieter removes the lids off the dinner. “We should eat before it gets too cold.”

"What a very logical thing to say." You tease, despite doing exactly as he suggests. For the first time in ages, you might truly be relaxed.

“Can’t have sex on an empty stomach.” He jokes, feeling more at ease with the situation. You’ve never lied to him, and if you say you want to have sex with him, that’s the truth. “Have to eat dinner before I can have dessert.”

That earns him a half-snorted laugh as you take your first bite, and you shake your head at him. "Eat up then. I'm in the mood for sweets tonight."

“Yeah? You want to drink champagne and eat those chocolates while I eat you?” The idea has him twitching in interest, the lazy indulgence of it enticing.

"Oh, I just meant that I want you." He always has been, and still seems to be, incredibly sweet. That's part of what his anger and seeming hatred had stung so badly. "But if you want to be fully hedonistic, I'm on board."

“Been a long time.” He admits with a shrug. “Need to get back into the habit.”

"If I ever object to having my pussy eaten, call a doctor because I've been body snatched." You tell him definitively.

He snorts and then busts out into a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Things really start to feel normal as you eat, joking at the movie and reciting your favorite lines here and there until your plates are empty. You creep closer together on the couch as time ticks by, pulled together with that same magnetic attachment that has always seemed to bring you together. Before you know it you're leaning into his side, fingers threading together and head on his shoulder.

There’s a sweetness to the moment that Dieter is reluctant to end. It could have been twelve years ago, the two of you sitting on his tiny loveseat couch in that apartment. Or in your dressing room.

"I missed this." It's a big thought for such a quiet moment, but you sigh into it and just let the truth of it settle around you. It's not a heavy or foreboding thought anymore, and that feels like a weight off your shoulders.

“Me too.” His hand slides around your shoulder and he pulls you against him even more.

"I'd suggest sleeping right here if we didn't both have the backs of people over thirty now." Back then, the two of you could and would sleep wherever you dropped. It was usually a bed, sure, but not always. One memorable night saw you falling asleep in his lap when you couldn't bear to tear yourselves apart after riding him.

He snorts and shakes his head. “We are getting old.” He admits. “Hangovers take forever to get over now. Do you remember when we used to perform while still drunk from the night before?”

"It's a fucking miracle I could remember my lines sometimes." Theater work really has differences from film work, and you giggle about it almost wistfully. "I think...I miss theater, too. I haven't been on an actual stage in years."

“Me too.” He hasn’t stepped foot on a stage since leaving the production you worked on together. His father would have pitched a fit and he didn’t have the heart to do it anymore.

"Can you imagine?" It earns another small laugh from you. "If we wrapped this movie and then ran off to play on a stage somewhere? Gossip magazines would practically sell our tickets for us."

He snorts and gives a fond smirk. “We find some hole-in-the-wall theatre in Nebraska and make it bigger than Broadway.”

"Would you go all classical on me and want to do Shakespeare and Chekov and Tennessee Williams?" It sounds like fun for once. Like something you could do without looking over your shoulder and making sure you're doing precisely what ten thousand sets of eyes want you to be doing.

“Why not? Or Oklahoma.” He chuckles, smirking at how his father would roll over in his grave. “Or do you think it’s sacrilege to perform that in Nebraska?”

"I think it's a sacrilege to perform Oklahoma! at all," you snort, enjoying the image of him in a cowboy hat regardless. "We'd do Shakespeare and musicals and classics and experimental whatevers whenever we felt like. The king and queen of Midwestern regional theater."

“Build a theatre that rivals Juilliard for performances for students.” Dieter slips into the dream a little more, enjoying the idea of it. “Teach the next generation of performers.” Hell, if he were honest, he thinks of you as a mentee of his.

"An institute for performers, staring with high school." There is a smile on your lips when you tilt your head to look at him. "Not kids. Kids should get to just be kids. No stage parents thrusting their children on our stages. We'd make sure of that."’

“Absolutely.” He nods in full agreement, hating being dragged around to auditions when all he wanted was to go outside and play.

"It's a beautiful dream, Dee." One that wouldn't necessarily be so difficult to achieve, given his multiple generations of accumulated wealth. It would take a little while to bring together the right people for a school, but a theater? The two of you could fund that yourselves without a lot of effort.

“It’s been a long time since I had a dream that was fun.” He admits softly. Smiling at the idea and tracing a pattering on your shoulder under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Maybe it's worth going back on stage first to make sure it's as good as you remember?" Support is something that you know he hasn't really had, and that's definitely something you can give him. Your full and unconditional support for moving in a positive direction. Positive being whatever makes him truly happy.

“Yeah. It’s not good to just jump in.” He reminds himself, not wanting to jump in too deep, too quickly.

"But if you could..." He loves to dream - or at least he used to - and you don't want him to just box up the thought and tuck it away in his brain to forget about. "Where would you want to open it? Anywhere in the country. Or hell, anywhere in the world?"

Dieter frowns and considers it seriously. “I’m not really sure. Where would you want to go?”

"I mean, if we were really thinking about it?" You lean back against his arm on the couch and smile softly, letting childhood memories come through to the surface. "The theater that I did my first show at ever is in my hometown in Washington. It was this big deal summer stock left over from the 1930s or 40s, and they'd built up a hotel around it for a while. But the hotel went under and the theater squeaked by for a few decades more after it was demolished and..." you shrug slightly, knowing how nostalgic you sound. "I grew up in the mountains, so now it's this big, defunct theater in the middle of a valley. I wish it could be restored and turned into something great again. But I don't know if Snoqualmie, Washington is the place you want to build your legacy."

“That’s pretty cool though.” Dieter grins. “You get all the Hollywood types out there for the summer theatre program and then the local kids and kids who dream of theatre and can’t get the lessons.”

“Can you imagine?” It warms through you, the idea of your little town reinvigorated. “We get occasional tourists because they filmed some of Twin Peaks in my town. But a whole theater and a school? It would be something else to see.”

“That would be cool. Bring some more life to the area. Is it a nice vibe? I like a good view.” Dieter asks, not really caring about much, but this is the first thing that’s gotten him thinking about more than himself in a while.

“I thought it was boring growing up, but I like going back for the holidays and family stuff when I can. It’s pretty. And there’s something to be said for having all four seasons.” He sounds like he’s actually thinking about it, which makes you smile more than you would have expected. “If you decide this is actually something you want to do, I can help you look at different places. If…if you want me to, I mean.” It would be a drastic change in how he lives his life, and if he wanted you to come with him it would be a drastic change in yours. Who knows when or if it would ever happen. All you know is that it’s good for Dieter to dream.

“You would want that too?” He asks, surprised. Your career is taking off, still running like a freight train without the hints of or outright scandals he has weathered.

"I mean...I'm not thinking about taking a running leap out of Hollywood anytime in the next year or two, but I've definitely thought about what I would want to do when I get out. And I want to get out on my own terms, not because people have stopped returning my calls or because the only offers I'm getting are witches or overbearing mothers." You shrug slightly, nuzzling deeper against him as you do. "I don't want to wash up or fade away. I want to be present to enjoy every stage of my life. That's what I've always wanted."

“Whatever you do, you’ll be great at it.” Dieter knows that without even considering it very much. You’ve always had the raw talent that most people are in awe of.

"So will you." You're not about to let him think less of himself or avoid the very honest compliment just because he redirected the conversation. "And besides, if you decided to open your theater and drama school in my hometown I would certainly hope you would want me involved in things. It only seems fair."

“Oh it’s fair, huh?” He cracks a sardonic grin. “Because it was your idea?” He knows that if he did do something like that, he would absolutely want you involved. Your talent as an actor has only gotten better.

"Alright, maybe not fair." You have to laugh at it yourself, even a little, and bat your eyelashes at him. "More like...wishful thinking?"

“Wishful thinking.” He hums, enjoying the idea of you being interested in taking that on with him. “It’s something to think about. I think we do need more theatres.”

Empty plates and empty glasses stand by on the coffee table, and you smile from your place, tucked into his side on the sofa. It’s comfortable and also comforting, to be able to sit and talk like this. When you were young everything was about the here and now, but now that you’re adults the dreams are a vital part of pushing through each day’s monotony.

When the two of you are like this, Dieter wonders how the hell he had ever walked away from you. The way you calm him down amazes him, the nervous energy dispelled easily without the need for chemicals.

The movie ends soon afterward, not that you were really paying that much attention. You had talked all through the meal and maybe only sat and watched the last fifteen minutes. But those last fifteen minutes were calm and quiet and saw the two of you happily wrapped up in each other. It’s nice. It’s comforting. And it’s also making your skin tingle any place he touches you.

“Do you– do you want to watch another movie?” Despite having a call time tomorrow, Dieter feels like the two of you have all the time in the world. The way the sexual tension has shifted into something… more has him reluctant to give in to his body’s wants.

“If you want to.” Once upon a time he would have been tearing his shirt off of you at the first possible opportunity, but things aren’t the same as they were – and you have to remember that it isn’t a bad thing or anything to do with attraction. You’re both very obviously still attracted to each other if what happened on set is any indication. This is about being close again, and you reach to grab the remote off the coffee table to pass to him.

“Not really.” He admits with an amused huff at himself. “I kind of want to go to the bedroom.”

"Oh yeah?" The eyebrow you raise at him in sheer amusement comes with a smirk. "You thinkin' about asking me to come with you?"

“Hoping you would.” He chuckles. “It’s either that or I’m gonna need to go jerk off.”

"And that would be a damn shame." Nodding solemnly, you shift out of his lap and stand up before holding out your hand to him. "Come on, Dee. I don't mind leaving a mess for once."

He grins, remembering how you would want to pick up his apartment before going to bed when you were staying practically every night. “Yes ma’am.”

Your clothes from the day are neatly stacked on the dresser across from the bed, and the towel you used hung just as neatly in the bathroom. There's barely any trace of you here at all, but Dieter's marks are everywhere, just as they should be. This is his room and his space, and he's welcomed you into it. In some ways that first night together comes roaring back into your mind - but that night was a lot more about tearing each other's clothes off than this careful tiptoe of a dance you're doing right now.

“You still like the right side of the bed?” He asks, bolting towards the bed to pull the covers back. He wants you, he fucking aches with it, but he also wants to make sure you know that this isn’t just sex. “If you want to stay, that is. I don’t know. You might have a more comfortable bed than mine.” He jokes.

"Dee..." He's nervous, and you sure as fuck are too, but you cross the room to put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I want to stay. And I want you. It's okay. There's no reason to be so nervous." You should probably listen to your own advice. Oh well.

“It’s uh,” he shuffles and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this…sober.” He confesses, looking mildly embarrassed at the way his life had turned out.

"That's okay." Far be it from you to judge him for coping with the stressful way things have gone for him. "It doesn't have to be tonight. And if it is, it doesn't have to be a marathon."

“I want you on top of me.” Dieter groans breathlessly. “I fucking loved when you would grind down on me and fucking let me suck on your tits.”

"So specific." Yet you can't stop yourself from groaning, remembering how enthusiastic and sloppy he would get whenever the opportunity presented itself. "We should get in bed, then."

He bounces into the bed, flopping on it like he is about to start jumping as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them off.

You can’t help it, you smother your face with two hands to keep from becoming a giggling mess and end up barely stifling a snort in the process. “Is that my seat?” You tease, glancing at his half-hard cock when you put one knee on the mattress to climb in with him.

He pouts and wraps his hand around his cock. “It was hard all day.” He huffs at you. “It’s gotta let the blood flow back to my brain sometimes.”

“Only sometimes.” You move closer to him, about to put one leg over his lap when you stop short and groan softly. “I knew I felt something,” you huff indignantly. With one hand, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his length and moan all over again at the way he twitches in your hand. The thing that has your attention, though, is shiny rather than warm. “When did you get your cock pierced?”

Dieter groans and his eyes flutter while he enjoys the curious trace of your fingers over the metal in his cock. “I– oh fuck, about a month after I came to California.” He admits. “Wanted to rebel and what better way than to get my dick pierced?”

“Enhances pleasure, I take it?” He’s squirming under the light attention and you shift to straddle his thighs while you explore.

“Yes.” He pants, cock now fully hard and curled nicely against his belly. “People– uh, seem to like it. And it feels really fucking good when someone plays with it.”

“Really good, huh?” You’re not as innocent as you used to be. Not by a long shot. And your experiences with men have been varied over the years. What you do know for sure, is that your experiences with Dieter were the happiest you’ve ever been. You tighten your hand around him experimentally, remembering how much pressure he used to like, and let yourself lean in easily to press your lips to his.

“Shit.” He hisses, muffled by your kiss and as soon as you lean in, he’s grabbing a handful of the overly large shirt. Bunching it over your breasts and dragging you closer to him while his tongue begs for entrance into your mouth.

None of the old feverish need for each other is missing from this moment, and it’s a perfect kind of ecstasy to realize that aging twelve years – a death sentence in Hollywood – hasn’t affected his attraction to you at all. You open up for him immediately, tongue sliding against his as you push your chest into his hands and start to pump his cock slowly in your hand.

The sounds that he makes breathe straight into you. Given up willingly and he kisses you like it is the last thing he will ever do. No one around this time, Dieter pours all of himself into you, giving into the need that seems to always come back to you.

There is no reason to hold back this time. No one to witness you or to have an opinion on what is happening except for the two of you, and you are the only ones whose opinions count at all. You shift forward, hand still wrapped around him and stroking his cock eagerly but now the heat of your core is hovering barely a hair's breadth away as you swallow every sound he has to offer you.

You still know how to touch him. His hands slide under your shirt, greedy for the skin he had wanted to touch but couldn’t before. Marveling at the way you still fit in his hands perfectly. “Fuck.”

"You let your nipple piercing heal," you pout, turning your head to kiss down the cut line of his jaw.

“Yeah.” He grunts when your teeth scrape against his skin. “Took it out eleven years ago.” He doesn’t tell you that he had almost had the damn thing ripped out by a jealous lover when he had been found in bed with someone else.

"At least you replaced it with something fun." Running your thumb through the dribble of precum at the head of his cock, you pull away from him long enough to suck the digit into your mouth and hum immediately, shutting your eyes for a moment while you enjoy the long-forgotten flavor.

“It’s supposed to feel good for you too.” He adds, like that had been the entire reason that he had gotten his dick pierced.

"I'm sure it will." You hate the way it makes you pause, but you lean in to kiss him softly and take an internal deep breath. "I...I have an IUD and...and I haven't had a partner in a while. Like...my last tests came back clean and I haven't been with anyone since..."

“I– the insurance physical.” Dieter admits breathlessly. “Clean…and I– it’s only…” he huffs at himself. “I haven’t been with anyone since I found out you were in this. And since the physical. I don’t get laid as often as everyone thinks.”

“We can change that.” One raised eyebrow aims itself at him and you can’t help but look amused with your own reaction. “I mean, it wouldn’t be all kinds of crazy orgies or random partners…but a world where Dieter Bravo gets laid every single night? That’s just about having a partner with a high enough sex drive.”

“Have you– since we– since I–” Dieter can barely think with his cock in your hand. He never could, the feeling of your soft skin gripping him so firmly, always making his brain short circuit into something magically blank to everything but the pleasure. “Orgy?” He finally manages, wanting to know if you’ve ever indulged in multiple partners.

“I–um…no.” The image that you built for yourself – the careful walls you constructed around the person you wanted to be seen as – would never have allowed you something so indulgent or hedonistic. Your image is modest and professional. It has been since the day you hit Hollywood. You were a Girl Next Door type in your first television show and your manager wanted you to keep that image. “But if you want—” You stammer, hands stilling as you try to sort out your thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel trapped with me, Dee.”

“No…no.” His frown matches the urgency in his voice. “That’s not– I wouldn’t–” He’s made a lot of mistakes over the past twelve years, but he would never push you. “If you wanted to, that would be one thing. But honestly?” He looks up at you seriously. “I would be jealous of someone else touching you. Like slapping their hands away to do it myself.”

“You always were a little greedy.” There’s nothing but fondness in your voice as you brush a tuft of stray hair from his face and lean in to slant your lips earnestly against his. “Possessive, I guess is more accurate. But…I’m not going to lie.” You flash him a grin. “I always found it kind of hot.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you.” He grins unrepentantly. “Never liked that idea. You were mine.”

You shift a little, cheeks on fire, and swallow a sigh. “Are.”

Quietly absorbing that new information, Dieter nods. “Then we are together.” He decides. “Just us. No licking frosting off someone’s tits or blowing the hot model from the shoot. Just us.”

“I mean…” Not wanting him to feel like he’s giving up his entire lifestyle, you take your hands away and wipe them self consciously in your thighs without even being able to tell if they’re sweaty. You’re just inexplicably nervous. Tonight had gone from sexy to serious very quickly. “If you want to lick frosting off my tits that’s completely cool — and if you’re doing a shoot for something, I will absolutely be blowing the hot model.”

“I just–I meant just us.” Dieter clarifies. “I want it the way it was back in New York. Me and you.”

“As long as that is what you actually want.” He has the biggest, warmest brown eyes and you just melt into him, feeling so freed by this conversation. The cage you’ve had around your heart for so long is finally open again.

“It’s what I want.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I think it’s what I always wanted when I could make my own choices.”

“We keep getting distracted with promises.” It’s endearing, and honestly pretty romantic, that as much as you might want each other, it’s the romance that keeps taking over. You cover his hands with your own and squeeze them gently. “Second chances don’t come around every day. I’m—I’m grateful for this.”

“I’m the one who fucked up.” Dieter admits. “I wrote you a letter, about six years ago. One of those twelve step programs where you write those who you wronged and don’t send them.”

“Did it help?” While you wish he would have disregarded the direction and sent the letter anyway, you know it’s more about admitting wrongs than reaching out. “To write it, I mean?”

“Not really.” He admits with a sheepish smile. “Because I knew that you still thought I hated you at the end of the day. I got baked the next day.”

“Then hopefully things will start to get better now.” It’s all you can really hope for at the end of the day. That things will return to how good they were between you since you know they’ll never be the exact same. Too much has changed, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be that happy again.

“Okay. Now that I’ve brought the mood down, can we fuck?” Dieter whines, his cock twitching against you.

“Telling me you love me is never going to kill the mood,” you promise him, although you do laugh at the exaggerated pout on his face. Taking one of his hands off your hip, you carefully slip two of his fingers into your mouth and relish the way he groans while his eyelids flutter. Directing those same fingers down your body, you press the pads of his fingers to your slick slit and hum at the contact. No longer being shy about asking for what you want has its perks.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, rocking his hips up so he presses the length of his cock against your cunt while he starts to rub your clit frantically.

If you had been thinking about it, you would have thought through it enough to expect him to go hard and fast getting you ready to take him, but all you had been thinking about was how good it would feel to have him touch you again. So when Dieter immediately starts rubbing your clit like he’s going for a High Speed score, you end up squealing and shaking against him in a fit of surprise. “Oh my—fuck— yes baby—”

There’s a magic to your breathy cry. Making him smirk and rub harder. Wanting to see if you can cum before he ever fucks you. You really had been planning on returning the attention while he fingered you, but the ferocity he goes into it with is enough to have your legs shaking immediately and your fingernails digging into his shoulders as your back arches and your hips start to roll.

Dieter doesn’t stop, not with you bucking and wailing on top of him. He bites his lip and watches as you shake, a sign you are getting close. “Come on Bambi.”

The tension coiling in your core is pulsing as fast as his fingers move, pushing you up toward the crest of your orgasm with force. You're on the edge almost before you can blink and rocketing over the edge with a high wail of his name that is barely muffled by burying your face in his shoulder as your body shakes. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit while you buck and shake through your orgasm. Marveling at how gorgeous you look.

"Fuck." Cutting off your own groan, you dive into kissing him as soon as your body sags, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pressing him back into the upholstered bedhead with determination.

“Hmmmmm.” He groans and kisses you back just as passionately. Loving how soft you are after cumming.

It only takes small shifts to move forward, knees bracketing his hips and core hovering over his leaking cock as you lose yourself in more kisses. Everything about this is better than you could have imagined and you just want to drown in it.

“Baby…please.” Dieter groans. “You don’t– you don’t have to move, just– just put me inside.”

“If you’re inside me, I’m going to move.” It’s a promise as much as anything else, and you reach between you to stroke his cock a few times before notching the head at your entrance and sinking down on him slowly.

Dieter's mouth drops open and he lets out a low, pained whine. Nearly shuddering at the heat of your cunt wrapping around his cock and gripping him like a vice. Not knowing how it's possible that you feel even tighter now than you did when he took your virginity, his heels dig into the bed in an effort to keep himself still.

"Shit, shit, shiiiiit," your head drops back the further down his shaft you slide, eyes drifting shut in bliss and body shivering with pleasure. When your ass is firmly planted against his thighs you rock forward, gasping at the way his piercing creates an extra layer of sensation deep in your cunt when you move.

"Goddamnit, fuck, shit, motherfucking whore." Dieter hisses, eyes closed so he doesn't blow his load right this second. You are just like a fucking glove around him and he's overwhelmed by how good it feels to have you around him again. It was something he had dreamed of, jerked off thinking about but had never really believed it would ever be afforded to him again.

It's counterintuitive, but you smother a burst of giggles at his tirade of curses and lean forward to kiss him. "You okay, baby?"

"Gimme a minute....." He pants, chest heaving as he tries to think about anything but the wet clutch of your cunt. Your walls contract and he groans, cock twitching deep and he grimaces slightly against your lips. "Trying to– trying to make sure I don't fuckin' embarrass myself." He complains, as if it is all your fault. Which it is, but he's not mad about it. "Too fuckin' tight."

"No more Kegels?" You can't help but tease him, feeling the way your pussy throbs around him. It's brilliant and sinful and makes your mind fog with pleasure.

"Those work?" He pops one eye open to stare at you, trying to gauge if you are serious or not. "No bullshit?"

“You tell me.” Whining a little when he twitches deep inside you again, you flash him a grin. “You’re the one feeling the results right now.”

"Mean." He hisses when you tighten down around him again. "Brat." His nails dig into your flesh but not enough that he would leave more than dull marks on your skin, easily gone later.

“You gonna punish me for it?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the two of you ever played with power dynamics in bed, and your lips curl into a grin.

Dieter is a cocky enough man, well aware of his abilities in bed to change things up. Enough of an asshole to flip you over onto your back with a quick tilt of his hips and follow you, staying buried inside your body and snapping his hips forward sharply when he thrusts down. "Yes."

“Fuck!” It happens all at once, as the begging mess of a man flips on a dime to being dominant without warning. The true definition of a switch, all depending on how his mood runs in that moment.

His one chuckle is breathless, but the idea of taking charge helps him keep the bare thread of his control. "Yeah?" He rocks his hips back and decides that another rough thrust is exactly what you need. Wanting you to experience what it is like fucking him with a piercing. "That's what I thought."

It’s probably a very good thing that no one is in the suite next door, otherwise they definitely would have heard you wail at that hard thrust that ran the ends of that bent barbell in his cock all along the walls of your pussy, stimulating places you didn’t even know could have extra stimulation and making you gasp in pleasure. “Fuck that feels amazing.”

“Yeah it does.” He groans in agreement, moving down so he can gather you up in his arms as he starts to normalize his sharp, steady pace. It will kill his back later on, but he needs this.

"Goddamn, Dee–" Each thrust pushes the air out of your lungs and you moan without restraint, wrapping yourself around him just as surely as he wraps up in you. Even a puff of air between you is further apart than you want to be tonight.

Lowering his head to your shoulder, he moans your name quietly. Pressing his lips to your skin and grunting with every thrust as your walls quake around him.

Unlike other encounters - even other encounters with him - this isn't about fancy positions or how well you can bend yourself up to take each thrust as tightly as possible. This isn't about the acrobatics of sex. It's the intimacy. It's the way he fills you to aching with every deep thrust and the way you cling to him like a lifeline even when he pulls away again that leaves you breathless, not just the simple act of sex itself.

“Fuck— fuck baby.” He moans quietly. “God I love you. So much, feels so good.” He can’t stop moving, breathing you in. Touching you like he had wanted to so many times while on that damn set. Now he can and like everything else Dieter is greedy with, he is going to gorge himself.

“I — fuck — I love you so much.” It’s like he’s trying to swallow you whole and you would willingly let him. There’s nothing standing in the way of you positively devouring each other and you just as desperately are trying to burrow under his skin or just welcome him fully into your body every chance you get. Time doesn’t matter right now. He could be between your thighs for five minutes or five days. All that matters is that he is right where he wants to be.

There’s something almost ethereal in the air tonight - or that might just be the way your heart is pounding so wildly that you feel like you’re about to take flight. Every time you rise up to meet him he bears down again and meets you in the middle, creating a symphony of gluttonous, lustful sounds as your bodies move together in that bed and your moans twine together.

“Fuck, fuck Bambi.” He moans quietly. Biting the juncture of your shoulder. “Please cum for me.”

It’s barely a request, more like a prayer as you tumble together toward that brilliant and eruptive end. A drop of sweat from his forehead on your skin seems almost as lecherous as anything else, like the tantalizing cream on top of a favorite dessert. Your back aches again as his hands push under your ass angling your bodies so that you cry out with his next thrust – vision going white as the explosion of orgasm washes over your body.

“Yes,” your real name falls from his lips as a prayer, trying to rock into you through your orgasm. Watching as your entire body thrashes under him.

“Fuuuck, Dee—” The more he works you up, the louder you groan and the faster his name falls from your lips. It almost rolls you over into a second orgasm altogether and all you can do is pray he follows you. The way you soak him has him unraveling, the wet slaps of his hips nearly frantic as he shoves himself deep and cries out in the most soul soothing release he’s probably ever had.

Panting for breath, you wrap both arms tightly around his shoulders and hold Dieter to you like an anchor. “This is…not how I expected today to end,” you whisper quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But fuck…I love you so much.”

Swallowing, Dieter tucks his head into the curve of your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. "I love you." He exhales breathlessly. "I've got– twelve years to make up for, so I'm gonna be a little clingy."

You can’t help but laugh at that, breathless and light, and you find his lips to kiss him gently. “That’s just fine with me, baby. I promise.”

Groaning quietly, he starts to roll the two of you onto your sides. He doesn't want to pull out quite yet, but he knows he's a hell of a lot heavier now than he had been twelve years ago. The skinniness of youth has filled into a broader frame.

“Now I know why some people have sex under blankets,” you giggle softly, tucking into his broad frame. “So they can go right to sleep after.”

"You want to stay like this for a while?" He asks, pulling you closer.

“We could lay like this forever.” Would people come looking for you? Sure. But in this moment you could not give a single flying fuck about the rest of the world.

"You might have to pee after ten minutes." Dieter teases, remembering how you used to claim you could sleep right after sex and always had to get up within ten minutes to use his small bathroom.

“Tease me all you want, I’m enjoying the romance of the moment.” You giggle against him and place a kiss over his heart. “I don’t want to go back to reality just yet.”

"I get it." Dieter's eyes are half closed and he strokes your back as he hums. "It's like being on that really good high and not wanting to come down."

“I guess that makes sex my drug of choice.” Or him, maybe — being with Dieter has always felt like a special kind of paradise while it lasts.

“Sex is always a good drug.” He agrees, knowing that tonight isn’t going to be one and done. Not when he’s wanted you all day. It might take awhile to recover, but he wants to make you cum again.

“The best.” Not that you have a lot of experience with others, but that isn’t the point. The point is him and you and getting your together back.

Humming softly, Dieter closes his eyes, the soft edge of a smile on his lips. “If I’m dreaming, I don’t want it to end.”

"I'm not going anywhere, baby." You promise, murmuring quietly in his ear. It's not that you're trying to rub salt in the wound that he was the one who left you back in New York, but the fact is - you probably never would have left him. The way you felt about Dieter while you were apart was a product of hurt, and of betrayal. Not that you didn't love him.

“You were always stronger than me.” He turns and kisses your face blindly. “Always.”

"I don't know about that." After all, he survived treatment from his father that would probably have crushed you if you had it from yours. "But either way? We made it back to each other."

“We did.” He reaches out and caresses your face. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. Just so you know that.”

"You deserve to be happy, Dee. And so do I." One of your hands comes up to cover his and you turn your head slightly to leave a kiss on his palm. "We had that spoiled for us by someone. But this second chance is just for us."

“Just for us.” He nods, opening his eyes to stare at you solemnly. “I love you.”

"I love you, too, Dee." And boy is that going to surprise the shit out of a lot of people.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

My Masterlist!

[barrenclan]

imagine my surprise when the issue started WHOLESOME!!!!!! sure it was advertised as a baby issue but STILL!!!!! i fucking love cormorantpaw playing with them and giving them the childhood he couldn’t have, it makes me so happy. and he’s happy, too!! i’m sure if he heard what cootstorm said about them, he would have thrown hands. begging for more scenes of corm babysitting/playing with the kits, even in the bg. him being this happy about the babies being happy is just. AAA!!

of course, in patfw, wholesome bits can’t last forever. daffy is in the issue at what cost !!!! i love how she just casually drops it and YES I WANTED TO SEE HER REACTION BUT IT HURTS IT HURTS SO BAD. i love how complicated it is, daffodil’s feelings and pinepaw struggling to apologize due to how neither of them did wrong.. aagh. i love this causing daffodil to realize that she kinda forced herself to love cormorantpaw due to the circumstances, and her opening up about how she really thinks about romance! i know she deserves the love she can so easily give to others, and i love how just.. the cycle is still kinda referenced in this issue? not with dustfeather, but with cashew. i never thought we’d touch a cycle of abuse other than familial but i’m really happy we did now and it makes so much sense? abuse comes in many forms, after all!

mallowstar’s struggles of being a leader and blacknose’s struggles of being a mother, aaaaa. it’s so intertwined and so different and they really need eachother. also, more cycle discussion!!! mallowstar wanting to break free is sooo important to me, everyone needs that. hopefully the green isn’t defiance territory, though.. maybe if it is, throw cootstorm as a sacrifice and run

ALSO THAT ENDING???? HACKSAW GO AWAY I’M GONNA THROW HANDS RN 🤼🤼🤼🤼🤼🤼🤼🤼

i always love your writing and your expressions in these, keep up the great work!!

Hey, sometimes I do wholesome issues! They're not all depressing!

Cormorantpaw is the best babysitter ever, he's great with kids. He knows how to vibe on their level, and his lack of self-consciousness means he can really get into the spirit of a game or a kid's conversation.

PATFW when they ask me for emotional weight: hey what's all this emotional weight doing here??? Haha, I'm glad you liked the section with Daff, it wasn't always something I had planned to include in this issue but it ended up being necessary to resolve. Since Daff and Slugpelt are both very romantically-inclined characters (when Slug was young, at least), they share a lot of similar worries and needs, and having those problems that her mother faced unconsciously be consciously present in Daff's head has made her do a lot of thinking.

Mallowstar and Blacknose really are so good for each other, they're so sweet,, it's fun to write their interactions because it's just totally interpersonal drama-free. Mallow's been thinking about leaving for awhile, largely buoyed by Blacknose herself (the biggest BarrenClan radical), and I can confirm that the "western border" is opposite Defiance's territory, which is past the eastern border of BarrenClan territory. Hopefully they can get out in time!

But I can't end an issue in the second half of the comic without a little Horrors. :]

[shipcestuous-two]

Fallout (spoilers!)

@bourbonthesecond: The new Fallout show has canon incest. The lead has been fooling around with her cousin but breaks it off for an arranged marriage. It's apparently enough of a feature in Vault life that they have laws against it but it seems to be fairly culturally accepted. He's heartbroken and rebounds with her best friend.

Anon:  I imagine you must have gotten a number of asks about this by now but!! I just watched the Fallout show with my partners and I'm not over the canonical cousin-incest that takes place in Vault 33 lmao. Episode 1 has characters casually talking about fooling around with their cousins as kids (before moving on to "real" relationships for the sake of procreation), and the protagonist's cousin is openly in love with her. She turns him down, but to me they felt like that had more chemistry than she did with her actual love interest lol.

I really enjoyed Fallout (a couple things about it make me scratch my head but I enjoyed the ride either way) and I’ve seen it twice now. 

It’s clear that, at least in Vault 33, fooling around with your cousin is no big deal. I’m not familiar with the games, so help me out here if you know for sure, but the vaults seem to have 100-200 people if they’re full. While I can see how that would lend itself to cousins fooling around, from lack of selection, it’s also not like there wasn’t anyone else she could be with. 

Lucy states that her reproductive organs are intact and she maintains good hygiene, but she hasn’t been able to find a suitable marriage partner in their vault. 

So, except for Chet being her cousin, and she agrees that cousins shouldn’t have children together, she considers him a suitable marriage partner. (Given their limited gene pool, cousins really shouldn’t be having children together in that context, probably. But how long before they’re all cousins anyway? Maybe it’s a pointless delaying of the inevitable.)

She tells her friend Steph that after ten years of “cousin stuff”, she’s ready for the real thing. It’s unclear if she and Chet were having sex, it kind of sounds like they weren’t doing the kind of stuff that could have gotten her pregnant. But ten years! That’s a long time. 

This whole thing was a little strange, because it’s played for laughs, but there’s just a little more to it than that. Chet is in love with Lucy, it wasn’t just fooling around for him. And Lucy says that everyone knows he’s in love with her. No one cares about that either, but they all follow the rule that she and Chet can’t marry. So that was interesting point #1. Interesting point #2 is that Chet is one of the main characters in the Vault 33. He’s secondary character overall. He could have easily just been a throw away character never mentioned again. Interesting point #3 is that Chet being in love with Lucy gets mentioned again, a couple of episodes later. In a rather sad way, when Norm suggests that Chet came with him to investigate Vault 32 because he’s still in love with Lucy and being with Norm reminds him of Lucy. It’s like, ok, make me cry. Why is this so sad!

While it isn’t discussed explicitly after that, it’s pretty clear that Chet isn’t happy with Steph. For more than one reason, but probably mainly because he’s still in love with Lucy. 

I assume, given the circumstances, that Chet is the maternal cousin of Lucy and Norm. While Chet and Norm spent quite a few scenes together, I didn’t like that they never referenced that they were cousins, too. This is a tangent, but when Chet was sent to live in Vault 32, Norm called him a coward instead of being like, “Bye, Cousin. I’ll miss you!” But I think he was just bad at showing that he felt abandoned and that now he would be alone with all of his questions. But what I’m really getting at is that Norm had lost his mother, his father, and Lucy, and then his cousin gets sent to live in the other vault and they’ll only see each other every three years, if even. 

I also wanted to note that Norm calls Chet a coward, which was really hypocritical since we know Norm feels guilty about hiding during the big fight, but which also isn’t fair because when Lucy wanted to go to the surface, Chet wanted to go with her and she had to drug him to stop him. 

I really can’t believe that the show has a tortured canon cousins relationship, with sympathetic unrequited love and the two of them forbidden from marrying. 

While of course Lucy has a canon love interest on the surface and likely won’t be back to Vault 33 anytime soon, it is kind of fun that her arranged marriage, her “real thing” ended up being a man who tried to kill her. It’s like, Chet is looking pretty good right now, isn’t he? 

[flowerbloom-arts]

"Moomin and its casual relationship with religion/Christianity is something that's truly understated by the fandom or forgotten about entirely and I think it's one of the more fascinating aspects to dive into. I dunno, I could ramble about for quite a bit."

Please do! I would love to hear it. If thou wished so. That is.

Okay SO.

I'm gonna elaborate in that I don't know what Tove's relationship to religion/Christianity is? I know she had a Jewish friend who had to flee the country in WW2 and she probably celebrated Easter and Christmas but otherwise I haven't read anything on her views of religion or what flavor of Christian she is, so I'm just going to base this entire post on what we see within the franchise and try not to speculate on what the Janssons believed.

But like, anyway, the subject of religion in Moomin is pretty subtle in that uhhhh

... maybe it's not too subtle... but I blame it on people not reading the books or comics and watching the 90s and 2019 series as it is almost clean of religious dialog or plot points except for, like, the existence of Christmas I guess.

And the existence of Christmas instead of, like, some unchristian equivalent to it in Moominland is telling in itself. What alot of people don't realize that despite all the magic and shenaniganery that happens in Moominvalley, Moominland is still a sort of.... slightly tweaked, absurdist portrait of the real world. In the books there are references to Mexico, America, Finland itself; Moomintroll mentions venetian curtains which implies the existence of Venice, Tarzan as a pop culture icon is referenced. In the comics the Moomins time travel to Wild West era southern USA, ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt, they wanted to travel to 18th century France but they forgot to switch the location, there are references to Soviet Russia and Australia gets mentioned and the Moomins travel to a Mediterranean beach town which is basically a fusion of 2 real life Spanish towns down to the combined naming (Although Majorca also still exists??), brands like Old Smuggler's and Lyle's Gold Syrup and Maxwell House and Lipton get shown directly on the pages... so many other things... point is, Moomin isn't a fantasy world separated from the real one and with all of this you can't argue about alternate origins of the Christmas holiday, it just is there as it is celebrated in the real world.

In Comet in Moominland, Sniff name-drops the Moses of the Bible in reference to Snufkin being found in a basket like him and the kids have a conversation about how dangerous it was to send a baby down a river:

‘Haven’t you got a mother?’ asked Moomintroll looking very sorry for him.

‘I don’t know.’ said Snufkin. ‘They tell me I was found in a basket.’

‘Like Moses,’ said Sniff.

‘I like the story about Moses,’ said the Snork. ‘But I think his mother could have found a better way of saving him don’t you? The crocodiles might have eaten him up.’

‘They nearly ate us up,’ said Sniff.

‘Moses’ mother could have hidden him in a box with air-holes,’ said the Snork maiden.

‘That would have kept the crocodiles out.’

Mr. Hemulen begs the heavens to protect and preserve him:

‘Heaven protect me!’ gasped the Hemulen,

(...)

‘Oh, heaven preserve me!’ exclaimed the Hemulen,

In Finn Family Moomintroll, Muskrat makes more tangible references to Heaven:

(...) the Muskrat gloomily sucking his moustache. 'The earth can crack and fire come down from heaven for all I care (...)

(...)

'(...) Well, I hope the Muskrat heaven is a peaceful place, because I shan't be here much longer.'

In Moominpappa's Memoirs, the Ghost name-drops Hell:

"By all the Hounds of Hell," began the ghost,

In Moominsummer Madness Mymble Jr believes they're going to die and euphemistically mentions Heaven while Little My whines about having to go:

‘That’s the very least,’ replied the Mymble’s daughter. ‘Try to be good now if you can find the time, because in a little while we’re all going to heaven.’

‘Heaven?’ asked Little My. ‘Do we have to? And how does one get down again?’

Emma the Stage Rat says rest in peace for her late husband:

‘Really, thank goodness,’ she cried, ‘thank goodness that my beloved husband, Stage Manager Fillyjonk (mayherestinpeace) can’t see you all! You don’t know a thing about the theatre, that’s clear, less than nothing, not even the shadow of a thing!’

In Tales From Moominvalley, Mymble says My wouldn't go to heaven if she keeps swearing:

‘If you say things like that you’ll never go to heaven,’ the Mymble started instantly,

Snufkin euphemistically uses Heaven while telling the story about his mother's aunt;

Her wonderful belongings gave her no comfort. On the contrary, they only made her think of the day when she’d go to heaven and leave them all behind her

And Sniff echoes this twice;

[Snufkin said] '(...) feeling rather like a balloon, a happy balloon ready to fly away…’

‘To heaven,’ Sniff observed drily. ‘Now, listen…’

(...)

‘I know, I know,’ Sniff said crossly. ‘You’re exactly like Moomintroll. I know how it turned out. Then one evening she gave away her bed too and then she went off to heaven and was so happy, and the right thing for me to do is to give away not only Cedric but everything I have and then hand in my spade and bucket on top of it all!’

And of course, Tales From Moominvalley has the entire short story about Christmas.

Of course, I could be missing or forgetting alot from the books but it paints a very clear picture, I think. And then in the comics...

The use of words like sin and damned and religious exclamations are used alot throughout the comic, and I can't even show all the examples I have collected because of the picture limit, but it's there.

The Black Prophet in Moomin Begins a New Life uses religious language and quite literally lives in a place called Puritan Street, he claims that any form of enjoyment or self-satisfaction is sin, such as looking attractive or eating food you like, and that one must live life in according to one's duty and the betterment of society as opposed to the hedonist view of the White Prophet to abandon all law and order and do only what one pleases.

The plot of the Lars comic Sniff Goes Good founds itself in the event of Sniff having an implied nightmare about going to hell and takes it as a sign that he should morally correct himself.

Moominpappa kept using the word damn (and damned and the blazes) throughout Moomin and the Sea.

The strange thing about the comics is that it uses alot of religious exclamations but replaces God/Lord or Jesus with Edward the Booble which is a really fascinating implication about Boobles in this world but that's beside the point, Groke is also used for more negative exclamations. Just about the only time I remember a character using God/Lord in the comics is that panel of Moominmamma saying Oh Lordy as shown above, otherwise references to God or Jesus themselves are very much missing, I don't know if it's something to do with newspaper censors or what (I could swear there was maybe a cross or a reference to the Devil somewhere in the Lars comics but I can't remember where).

None of the characters seem explicitly religious, atleast with their language, there's no church in Moominvalley or crosses thrown about, which...

Makes the 1969 Moomin series and its reboot, New Moomin, absurdly funny.

DO DO-DO-DO DO DO DOOOOO...

DUN-DUN!

DUN DUN!

DU-DUUUUNNNNN...!!

(yes that is a real church, part of a whole episode's plot, it has the cross and everything on top, I just couldn't get a better shot of it than this)

As someone who has watched the subtitled episodes available for each series I can say that it is... hilarious whenever it pops up. The usage of Christianity in such a heavy-handed way throughout the shows is very amusing but also fascinating.

It's important to consider that these are a japanese production, and these days, Japan only 1% of the population is self-proclaimed Christian despite the celebration of Christmas and the Christian-style weddings they perform. I couldn't get exact data on Japanese religion in the 20th century but it's doubtful that Mushi Productions, the studio that made these shows and is based in Tokyo, was particularly influenced by the religious colonialism of western Japan (please correct me if I'm wrong, I know I'm not a historian but this stuff fascinates me).

The absurd presentation of these elements feel like it comes from a fascination with the religion than any tangible experience on how mundane, rural European Christians act or believe? Like it's kind of parodying it to get across the fact that this is supposed to be taking place in Europe? The praying, the constant references to Heaven (unrelated to death), Hell, God or the Devil, Snufkin and Moomintroll compelling the Hobgoblin with the Power of Christ, the church that was never in the source material, it's all a bit tacky and I love it??

This element is less present in New Moomin probably due to criticism but it's still very much there. It's probably one of the stranger bits of the series besides the violence of Moomin 1969, but like the rest of the adaptation it feels like it's done in earnest despite its lack of adherence to the source material.

...

All this to say, there's probably a Moomin Jesus who died for their Moomin sins in canon and that is still absurdly funny to think about in an abstract sense after all this time.

[carnal-lnstinct]

Back At The Garden

Pairing: Goku x Reader Warning: M / 18+. MINORS DNI. explicit language. referenced alcohol drinking Content: established relationship. implied reader is gohan & goten's mom. fluff. outdoor quickie. public sex. A/N: Getting back to my writing roots. ♥ The lack of ss4 smut I've written so far this year is disGUSTING.

Gathering at the Home of the Briefs gradually became rare over the years. With Trunks now running Capsule Corporation, Bulma had more free time for her tinkering, but how she managed to round you all up for a lunch date was a miracle in these peaceful times. Android 18 and Marron, Launch, The Ox Princess, Videl, and yourself. It was Mrs. Brief's idea to make it a garden party for all the girls and it turned out far more elegant and grandiose in presentation than expected, so when you all arrived you felt a little underdressed for the occasion. Bulma apologized for her mother "overdoing it" for a simple lunch, but it did not deter you all from catching up with each other. In fact, it felt in character for a Brief-hosted party.

While you all sat and reminisced on old times, your eyes caught sight of the gazebo roof beyond a few tall hedges of the maze. It's been even longer since you have seen that old thing and even from here it seemed Mrs. Brief kept it in good shape. Your thoughts drowned out the conversation as you stared in its direction, recollecting the last time you were underneath the gazebo. A smile teased the corner of your lips until you could no longer hold it back. You felt warmed in the comfort of your memories.

A gentle hand on your forearm interrupts, shaking the memory loose from your mind and you turn to look at the blonde android. "(Y/n), did you see something?" 18 asks you, her uninflected voice masking the concern for your displaced attention. You quickly recompose from the steamy daydream and answer her with a soft laugh.

"No, I was just remembering something from a long time ago." You reassured, lifting your cup to your lips for a sip of your drink only to find the other’s eyes on your now when you lowered it. Clearly you couldn't just drop that tease of information on the table and not explain it. You scanned over all of their faces and they seemed frozen in their position waiting for you to continue, all chatting ceased. The warmth in your chest soon found your face, taking a bigger sip from your cup to stall but they weren’t going to let it go. You swallowed, then bit your lip preparing your word, hoping to explain it less naughty than what it really was. 

"Me and Goku were…here once." You quickly say with your gaze fixed on your drink, voice under your breath as you raise the cup to your lips again. You were met with a collection of light "oh's" and "aww's" that was easier to face than what you expected. No shock, just soft nods and suggestive smiles and giggles. Looking across everyone again it appeared your confession brought a handful of them to a familiar, similar memory, and at least once did every female at the table glance in the gazebo’s direction. You were the only surprised one.

 Seems you were all young once.

"Vegeta and I used to go there on occasion, but that was before Bulla learned how to fly." Bulma casually laid out, earning a wide-eyed gape from you. But she only seems to laugh warmly in the embrace of her memory. You couldn't imagine that being Vegeta's idea. But your visit to the gazebo wasn’t exactly Goku’s either and he may have enjoyed it more than you. You felt a little less ashamed, as did the others around when yet another confession joins the discussion.

"Since we're being honest. Gohan and I were here once." Videl adds with a deep shade of pink in her cheeks and thumbing her teacup. "...Twice." Her smile widens giving into the memory but is short-lived as she is playfully elbowed by Blonde Launch surprising her. The rowdy woman let out a hefty, proud laugh at Videl. She flattened her hands on the table with devious eyes ready to spill her guiltless tale.

"A lady doesn't kiss 'nd tell, but I ain't afraid to say me and Raditz made a habit outta coming here every party." Launch proudly admits, then gives you a knowing look as she leaned over to you. "Well except that one time." She snickers, now giving you a nudge. "I blamed it on his tacky outfit so he would storm off and I'd meet him here, but it was ocupado." She cackled, swiping up her glass and gesturing to Mrs. Brief as if to make a toast. "You got somethin' real special in this old scrap, Nana Panchy."

"Hmph. I don't have anything so indecent to add about this place." Android 18 declares, taking a drink from her cup in order to mask the shade of red in her cheeks. A confession told in so few words, but not details to be shared in the presence of her daughter. Strange as you know she, more than anyone, was never shy to express the love between her and her husband. But the line had to be drawn somewhere, you guessed.

“I bet Krillin would spill the beans.” Launch adds with a wiggle of her brows as 18 sharply turns her way.

“Don’t you dare!”

Well, you always told yourself to expect the unexpected at a Brief Party.

Now you felt some acceptance in opening up about your drunken encounter and the chat it sparked. However, it felt a little less special now if everyone was casually going about hooking up in the gazebo. You began to wonder if that moment itself even was anymore. Different from your other rumps with your husband for sure, but the facts surfacing from the core of it was you were a drunk mess at the time while he was only trying to look out for you before you groped and begged him to take you in the garden. Was it as sudden and romantic as you remembered or were just sloppy?

Not to fall short on the changing topics by getting lost in your own head again, you pushed the thought away. Continuing to enjoy the company of your old friends until it completely disappeared from your train of thought. At least until your ride showed up.

Goku and Pan’s arrival signaled that it was about time to return to the norm of your daily lives. Most of the others bid their farewells with hope of doing this again sometime soon. You and Videl stuck around longer to help clean up a little while Goku and Pan waited, quickly occupying themselves by catching up with Bulma and her parents, though it was a short interaction once they learned Vegeta and Bulla were out and Trunks was just plain busy. They returned to you as you wrapped up your little tasks and you broke away from cleaning to meet them halfway with a cheeky, little grin as you looked at Goku.

“Hey, Do you remember when we were here a long time ago?” You started to ask him, wiping your hands off. “When I had too much to drink and-...” You quickly glanced at Pan and you sealed your lips, your smile briefly leaving you. You made a gesture with your eyes to Goku. These two were like glue, but Goku knew how to dismiss her when “grown-up talk” came into play. He placed his hand on her head to get her attention and smiled at her.

"Hey, Pan. Didn't you say you wanted to go ask your mom for some boy advice?" Goku brought up, exposing his prior chat with his granddaughter about how she “scared off” another boy. Not entirely meant to embarrass her, but that she could go find Videl now that they were in the same place. Though, the mortified look Pan gave him says otherwise. Even if it was to send her off, you were intrigued by the news. Playing along, your face showed your interest as you leaned down to her with a knowing grin.

"Pan, you have a crush on a boy?" You asked her with an awed smile, the preteen flustering as she turned away.

"N-No! It's not like that!" She attempted to defend herself, feeling only further exposed and rattled to even think of delving further into something like that with her grandparents. She wiggles free of Goku’s hand and quickly ran shouting back with a wave of her hand. “I-I’ll go find my mom!”

You straightened up with an adoring laugh, Goku moving to stand beside you as you both watched her round the corner into Bulma’s home. Your endearing smiles for her meet and Goku tilts his head now looking at you.

“What’s this about you drinking too much? Guess you girls had more fun than you let on.” He jested, leaning his elbow on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes with a more crooked smile, you shook your head.

“I was referring to a different time. When I ‘smooth-talked’ ya out of your pants. Remember?” To help jog his memory, you pointed to the roof of the gazebo peaking above the hedges, his eyes wandering over in the direction. Goku’s face thoughtfully scrunched with his head tilting opposite of you now and his other hand on his chin. 

“...Oh, yeah. I remember now! When you made me wear those tight clothes.” He couldn’t quite forget enduring that outfit, or any clothes that made him uncomfortable. But that one did benefit him more than the others. And in your defense, it probably would have fit him better when you originally bought it, long before the universe decided he needed a stronger body to fight off the next big enemy of the Earth. 

You shrugged at his clothing comment and leaned in toward him, speaking low for his ears. “Apparently, we’re not the only ones who have ‘been there’ if you know what I mean.” You revealed to him. “It's practically a regular thing around here. We were prudes compared to what I’ve learned today.” You snickered, nudging him slightly.

“Really? That's what you talk about a ladies-only brunch?” Goku blinks with a guileless stare, thick brow arching. He knew his friends were adventurous but he didn’t expect to learn that today. He starts to laugh with you. He’s not one for gossip but he wouldn’t turn down a juicy detail or two. “Guess we aren’t the only ones with crazy ideas.”

Good to know others thought the same to try it out too, he figures. Obviously smutty-natured things don’t cross his mind too often without some outside stimulus, but even if it was inappropriate to have sex in a place like that, he recalls it being wild and fun when you two were there. Maybe some of the best he’s had with you the more he thinks about it. It was like a game of chicken at first, how quickly he could appease his wife’s needy request before it was too risky and you’d have to stop. But once you were going, he wanted to cum too. In spite of his surroundings and the instant rush in his chest when he thought you were caught, he could drown them out to fulfill the both of you. You had already inflated his interest in you with your drunken antics the whole night, trying to help him manage his awkwardness in his clothing until you helped to loosen them up. If not for Raditz, Goku believes he would have become afflicted with lust for you and the party would have ended without either of your presence. If your tipsy state could handle it, that is.

Realizing those around him also did it took away the modesty of it and made him see how casual being there like that really was, opening up the possibility that it can happen. Could it have really been so wrong if everyone was doing it?

A deviant leer flashes on Goku’s face as he steps around in front of you and lifts your hand into his own. “What do you say we even our odds a bit. Wanna go check out the garden with me again?” He suggests invitingly. 

You look up at him with a wide-eyed disbelief, then shake your head. “Goku, we can't do that here!”

“Why not, we’ve already done it once.” He continues to beam at you, brows suggestively lowered over his eyes.

“Once is more than enough. It was risky then, and it’s risky now.” You objected. Goku tilts his head down slightly as if to look at you through his lashes and pouts now donning a pleading expression.

“But I wanna…” He playfully whined, clasping your hand between his larger pair in a plea for your blessing. Mimicking you from that time.

There were so many reasons not to do it here this time, mostly everyone around would know somehow! Though you can make your peace with that now knowing what you know, the sun was still out completely exposing the garden, and you haven’t exactly been throwing back cocktails to loosen you up like before. And what if Pan came back looking for him?! You would never forgive yourself if she found her grandparents like that. There were just too many big reasons not to.

“We will get caught.” You insisted, denying his begging and slipping your hand free. Putting a real pout on your husband’s face. “You want it so badly, then you’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

“That’s not as fun as here, we always do it at home…” Goku groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. He knows it’s even less likely to happen at home if Pan decides to come too and Goten isn’t there to distract her. He loves his family, but sometimes he does just wants to spend time with you. “...I got an idea.” Goku then straightens up, raising his fists as he channeled his energy. He looks like he’s turning into a super saiyan when the golden aura visibly appears around him, but it increases and his body shines brighter for an instant making you shield your eyes.

Once your line of sight cleared you looked back to him, eyes widened again staring down a Super Saiyan 4.

“Like this, everyone will just think I'm training.” Goku’s proudly expressed with his low tone, hands on his hips and long tail swaying into a posed, upward curve behind him.

“You are…s-so sneaky.” You tried to reprimand his pushing, though your words were feeble leaving your lips when you couldn’t keep your eyes off his protruding chest. Your argument was quickly losing its ground. Your eyes wandered taking in this altered shape of the man you called your husband. How had his waist looked more trim with such large muscles tapering down from his upper body? He completely tore through his blue gi with his pants still intact to give him some modesty. Goku shot up a foot or two in height and everything was just bigger— Is everything bigger? You clasped your mouth at the thought masking the flush of color starting to fill your face. “...But wouldn’t Vegeta or Raditz read your energy and come running? Or the others?” Even last time you were barely able to fix yourselves before Raditz stumbled upon you and thanks to Launch, he wasn’t as unperceptive as you thought.

“No one’s gonna come.” He insisted, leaning forward to look you in the eye. His yellow eyes then thoughtfully rolled and his smirk grew more suggestive.  “Well…”

You let out an amused, but ungraceful squawk behind your hand in response and could feel your whole body react to that look on his face. A taste of that Cheeky Goku you only knew in private, and he’s using that dirty sense of humor you loved so much against you. Did he have to make himself so pretty to do it?

Then it hit you, why you even got so frisky over Goku in the first place years ago. Regardless of your composure and what dressed his body, he was the most beautiful creature in existence. Inside and out. To you, every curve and tuck of muscle he worked for embellished anything that adorned them and in fact stole the attention away from colors and fabrics. Even covered in fur, you could make out the detailed bulge of his build. These muscles would burst out of that old outfit like it was wet paper and the thought sent a light shudder past your lips. Shades of blue in his outfits always flattered him. But red? This red…is scrumptious.

 And to top it off, he’d still effortlessly make you laugh and smile by simply embracing who he needed to be in a given moment.

“You are making it hard to be a decent woman right now…” You softly griped, lowering your hand and looking up at him with seduced eyes. “Why not just use your technique to take us home?” Surely Goten was home so he could sense his energy and get you both there in no time.

“...Same reason we are here now.” Goku moves in closer to you, gathering your smaller hand into his own. “You gave me that look the entire time we were at the party. Made me blush.” He chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a kiss to your knuckles before pressing his nose to the skin, taking in the scent with closed eyes. “You didn't exactly make it easy to focus on anything but having you after that.”

“Even now?” 

His eyes reopen and lift toward you. The tip of his tail flicks and he gently smiles, “Always. Who am I to turn down my hun?”

A desirous look settled in your features, a shiver of breath leaves the light parting of your lips and seeing it made him want to steal it away. Victory flashed in his eyes.

Getting to the gazebo felt like a blur. Goku held your hand, he led you to the garden hedges and through the small maze, but once you found yourself in that same place you started it before and his ravenous kiss captured your mouth, your mind went blank and your lust took over. Ensnared by his wiles, your core pulsed in full surrender to him, the need coursing through your body. Goku wraps a single arm around your waist lifting you off your feet as you pull yourself into him, his lips parting from yours to trail your neck. Just as needy for the heat of your flesh, choosing to indulge in the scent of your natural aroma over the variety of flowers surrounding you. He carries you under the gazebo, enveloping you both in its shade from the midday sun.

It’s changed a bit since you were last here. There’s a backless bench here now that Goku makes use of. He sits down and your natural reaction is to sink into his lap with a leg on each side of him. His transformation definitely made you feel smaller than you were like this, it didn’t even compare to him being a normal super saiyan. Up close you could really take in all the accents of his form that drew out his more handsome features. Mostly the way his fur framed his chest and abs. Goku all settled in, however, wasted no time claiming your skin again with his hot lips and getting your clothes loose. With your hands getting familiar with the length of his hair and rounded shoulders, he buries his face in your cleavage after lifting your shirt over your breasts.

Your legs tightened at his sides when he exposes one of your nipples from your bra and draws it into his mouth. His other hand gives your ass a squeeze as he moves your hips further up his lap to brush you up against the tent in his pants. Your body ignited with pleasure, dry humping his lap in response and squirming in his hold. With a deep hum, his tail sways with delight, finding more skin gracing his palms as you worked yourself out of your lower dressings. Opening his pants was not as easy as you hoped, feeling around for the knot in his gi to discover it was made all the more tighter against the strain of his bulging muscles. But your determined fingers found a way, the sash and tattered remains of his top were cast to the floor once you got it loose. You feel an affection tug on your nipple that stills you, Goku pulling away from your breast to retrace his trail up your neck with nips from his fangs in some appreciation now that he was given some relief from what kept him bound from you. His actions were rougher now however, a sensual glow in his eyes as he claims your mouth again. Your tongues lapped one another between your lips rousing a moan from you.

There was no going back now, the moment made all the more real when he buried his freed cock inside you. Or, he tried to, the hitch in your breath stopping him. Everything was definitely bigger than what you’re used to, more than you expected at his peak arousal. Looks like you would have to adjust to another super saiyan form. The stretch of your walls makes you back off a little, settling on what extent of its girth you could handle for now. Goku’s eyes soften from his carnal leer, reigning his excitement in and letting you pace yourself. He meets your eyes and the lustful haze between you briefly lifts, the realization sinking in that you were here again, his cock between your legs and the two of you throwing away inhibitions for a quick fuck.

You bit your lip as you started to laugh quietly in deep affection for your husband, that with a clouded judgment, yet sober mind, you could trust him with your passions anywhere. Goku grins and joins your soft laughter holding you closer. He wasted no time kissing at your smile, reassuring the rush of nerves that must have hit you and embracing your devotion to share in revisiting a blissful moment between you.

It was enough to feel your hips rock more in his lap, all worked up from the excitement. With your hands embracing his face, cradling your foreheads together, the sweet sound of your moan creeping through your breath.

So he kissed you harder to help mask them from the unseen corners of the maze and you felt him twitch inside you. His tail curls in brushing over your thigh, soothing you with its motion and strangely turning you on more. You adjust your hips and widen your legs allowing you to finally fill yourself with his needy cock, feeding almost full strokes in and out of your weeping bloom. Goku then seizes control of your hips winding you up further, faster, and bouncing you in his lap. 

The deep sound in his chest left his throat and he closed his eyes. He allowed his willpower to slip a little more and let hips counter the motion he guided for you. It felt like his body was heating up against you and that he himself couldn’t fill enough of his hands with your body to take it away, his hold shifting between the dip in your lower back and pulling your hips into his thrusts. Giving up the grace of making love to you in order to fuck the cum out of both of you. Your succulent insides starting to tremble around him just made the heated aura around him worse, his breath shortening and the delicate hold on his own volume slipping.

Super Saiyan 4 made him feel tougher, but in this moment he felt more susceptible to his pleasures unlike ever before. Even if you’re found like this, he doesn’t think he could stop. He could cum in the nestle of your body and he would be stuck in this intoxicating rhythm to keep thrusting to maximize the ecstasy. Filled in the burning desire to push harder, keep going, and taste more.

Goku’s eyes glow again and his fangs press into the tender flesh of your shoulder, a possessive growl muffled in your skin as he held on. With his tail flicking, his thrusts grew rougher. His hands forced your pussy down his cock, stirring up your deeper parts in delicious, clumsy motions. He could feel it getting closer by the clench of your insides and sensuous pants near his ear.

You were breathless, sharp beats of pleasure consuming you. “G-Goku-...Goku!” You tried to alarm him, to beg him to slow down as you lost control of your voice. Your entire body writhe as you were pushed closer to your orgasm, legs locking around his waist once it peaked and your own wetness squirted around his cock. You threw your head back in a cry of ecstasy and pulled his arms for mercy, every stimulated nerve between your thighs pulsing at once and dying for relief from his thrusts. You clung and you pulled and squirmed. It was when your nails clawed through his fur and around his back, catching the area above his tail that it snapped him out of his trance with a loud groan. Your legs shook around him with shakey snaps of his hips. Liquid heat poured into you, warming the already soaked and numbing walls of your insides. 

You slumped, winded and deadweight in his arms leaning up against him, both you and Goku lost in the high and slowly letting the surroundings back into your love bubble. Goku pulls his teeth from your skin seeing the indent of his bites and quickly peels you from his chest to look you in your hooded eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks with concern, glancing over the bite again apologetically. “Sorry about that...”

“Ah… I liked it...” You breathed, closing your eyes and huffing a quick laugh bringing your face back into his furry shoulder. “I dunno wha' that was... but do it again.” You uttered in your bliss, pussy still nursing his cock inside you with his cum spilling out into his own lap. 

Goku blinks at you, perking up at your words. “Like…now?”

Tempting. Very tempting. You didn't think it was possible for him to make you cum that hard. But that was not a subtle orgasm by any means. Someone, somewhere, heard that— Would come to find the source. You don’t even think you have the sense nor the strength to redress yourself after that. 

[transboysokka]

This is a big ask so don't feel like you have to, but would you be interested in pitching some summaries of the fics you have up on Ao3? I know there are summaries up there, but I like the casual way you have with words and you say fuck a lot and I dunno yeah

omg this is so funny bc i know the exact way with words you're talking about and of course im not gonna pass up a chance to promote my own work hehe YOU GOT IT!

i have 20 atla fics so I'm going to recommend them in order of... least to most kudos??? to try to trick people into reading more of my stuff? lol idk

I'm 99% sure all of these are Zukka fics...

The Last Five Years - ok actually this is a bad place to start bc i don't think im gonna finish it. it just really didn't take off but um its a The Last Five Years AU with really fucking sad Divorced Zukka

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry - this is i think my newest one, it has trans zukka and it's a bit angsty with a fake death but i also think it's kind of fun. it's the idea trans people have of ''who's going to care if my family puts the wrong name on my gravestone?" but there IS a happy ending

A Problem Halved is a Problem Shared - im gonna be honest i dont fucking remember writing this one lol but it says dialogue-only and it WILL be angsty bc it is about zuko and sokka dealing with different issues they have

One Last Time (and its sequel The End of All Things) - Actually OLT is definitely one of my faves I ever wrote. It's my canon-compliant take on um... *cough* Sokka's death, referenced in Korra. It's SO angsty but it has one of the most visceral scenes I've ever written and I DID cry writing this. TEoAT is the happy ending Divorced Zukka deserved with bonus Iroh but you WILL cry reading that too. BUT i cant fucking recommend these ones enough!!!!

If I fade away (the awful things we do to make the head go quiet) - VERY dead dove. trans zuko needs to pay a MASSIVE price to get home to the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se, and it's not his choice at all. I love this but READ WITH CAUTION

In Which Sokka is Supportive Ally Boyfriend Goals - I am dead serious i like dont remember this one at all but i know it has trans zuko!

Nourishing the Flame Within - not the best written tbhtbh BUT it does have two very important Zukos in it that I hold to be universally true: trans zuko and eating disorder zuko

bad idea right? - okay this is DEF one of my faves lol its about divorced zukka but they just cant stop messing things up and sleeping with each other even though theyre not together anymore lolol

Keeping it in the Family - lmao OKAY SO this is the ONE version of zukka that im like 'ok all u z*tara folks, maybe zuko WAS with her and it obvs didnt work' and then he hooks up with sokka instead and its GREAT but oops now we have Family Drama

Scars of Trust - bro im not gonna like i barely remember writing this one but i remember I LOVE IT and it's about sokka who has been dating zuko a while but he finally learns that zuko is trans? its great

Playing the Long Game - eh, i don't love it, but I'd say it's worth a read. it was my first longer fic in the fandom. it DOES have a great Zukki evolution though if you're into that, and a nice mystery!! Also some whump and angst bc of course

Keeping Score - I liked this one! It's just little snippets of times Sokka has survived assassination attempts, because we always hear about it happening to Zuko, but Sokka gets them too. Angst obviously

It Was Cruel and It Was Wrong - wow, a dead dove fic, yes. It's basically like "If I'm Joo Lee and you're Joo Lee, then who's flying the bison?" Yeah so Sokka and Zuko are both brainwashed by the Dai Lee and Suffering but be careful because this gets DARK

Mother - Izumi has two dads but she feels bad she doesn't have a mom. But guess what, her dads don't have moms either!! She's very happy to find that out! Wow Izumi, way to have some sympathy.

Impact - It's about Zuko taking a longer time to recover from an assassination attempt than he'd want, and Sokka being loving and patient with him! I wrote this when I had a bad concussion for like three weeks and so it's pretty like. Medically accurate lol

Scratchy - Short and sweet. I don't remember this one much but I know that it is fluffy and involves turtle ducks!

Hidden Pain, Shared Love - Another short and fluffy one. It's about the first time Zuko sees that Sokka has problems with his leg sometimes?

Zuko and Sokka Get Engaged in the Most Zukka Way Possible - okay i actually really love this one because it's on brand and cute and also i made it fucking angsty because oF COURSE

Zuko Amongst the Dragons - yes so what if zuko was raised by dragons and met the gaang but he was super feral? and what if shenanigans ensued? AND what if sokka and zuko fell in love anyway????

[mcaquila]

🖊️

Thank you for the ask! :)

Let's talk about *deep inhale* FLORENCE.

MY DARLING BOY (<If you read that in Juvia's voice, you're correct.)

You don't understand the lengths I've gotten to for this character. He's from the same story as Silas. But Silas doesn't matter.

I swear that I have tried to figure out this story, JUST FOR FLORENCE, probably four or five different times, with very different iterations. One of them featured him as the main character and it was -- I kid you not -- a court fantasy drama with desert dragons.

It was also incredibly stupid!

But it doesn't matter, I will do anything to make the story with this character work. He's a half-vampire with basically Dracula as his dad and a terrible mother (who is also a victim and is in denial about it and also is in denial that her son has been terrorized by his Dracula dad. It sucks).

He also has adorable animal familiars , such as the rat in the second image above. He'll either be called Brutus or Rufus (if I really want that Kim Possible reference).

He doesn't have a significant other, but I did make sure he has the best casual girlfriend: a cute goth witch named Ebony Raven Way (if you know what I'm referencing with her name, bless you).

But of course she's not good enough for him -- the ingrate.

He likes people who are genuine and honest. And as he believes that basically everybody's out to get him all the time and that integrity doesn't really exist, he's doomed to be alone forever.

The idiot.

....But he's my idiot 😌

[the-little-moment]

Part 3

Part three, babyyy! Sorry for the delay. I had to find my groove again. And rewatch "War Mantle" three times.

Words: 1,969

Warnings: canon injuries, referenced past violence

Summary: A mission from Rex takes the Batch to Daro, where everything does not go according to plan.

Crosshair woke in the medbay on Kamino, blinking slowly in the harsh light of the hospital. Something was…different. He remembered…he remembered Senna’s pet reg, the medic, telling him he needed surgery. Something in his brain had been affected by the ion engine’s blast. 

Senna. Memories came rushing back, almost tripping over each other to present their horrors to him. All the things he’d done since the others had left. The burning bodies on Onderon. The dead ES trooper in his squad. The sound of Senna’s scream as he’d broken her arm. His order to incinerate his brothers and the kid.

One heave of his stomach and a medical droid came around the curtain just in time to see Crosshair vomit over the edge of his bed onto the cold, white floor. 

Senna put on a brave face as the five clones headed down the ship’s ramp, their boots crunching softly on the carpet of brown needles below. “Be careful!” 

She watched as Hunter offered a casual salute and Echo turned to smile at her before he put his helmet on. “Don’t worry, Sen. We’ve done stuff like this a million times.” His face disappeared under the grey plastoid as she sighed.

“Yeah!” Omega beamed at Senna, bouncing up on her toes with a cocky grin. The Zygerrian bow slung across her back did little to alleviate the doctor’s anxiety.

That was the worst part, Senna thought. Not only were they here on some backwater planet she’d never heard of to rescue a mysterious friend of Rex’s with no plan but, instead of leaving Omega safely on the ship with her, Hunter was allowing the girl to go with them. 

She gave Wrecker a wan smile as he laughed at her over his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Sen! Gonky’ll take care of ya.”

“I’m sure she feels better already.” Senna heard Tech say as the group left the wooded clearing to search for their target. 

CC-5576, Senna mused as she raised the ramp, closing off the fresh forest air. “Why does that sound so familiar, Gonky?”

The boxy droid gave her a honk as it waddled back into the cockpit.

The doctor sighed and turned to follow. Too many numbers.

Hardly any time had passed before the ship’s comm lit up. Senna sat up with a worried frown when she heard Omega’s voice.

“Senna?” We’re coming back.”

A moment later, the ship’s ramp lowered and the doctor stood from the copilot’s seat to see a dejected Omega enter the cockpit, followed by Wrecker.

“Back so soon? Is everything okay?”

“Hunter sent us back. He said it was too dangerous.”

Senna frowned up at Wrecker as Omega flopped down in the pilot’s seat. “Dangerous how?”

“Ah, there’s somethin’ inside the mountain. The clone we’re lookin’ for – Tech thinks he’s inside.”

“Inside the mountain?” The doctor turned to look out the viewport at the thick forest around them. “Maker, what are they getting into now.”

Senna muffled a groan as she eased herself down on the ramp beside Omega. She was entirely too young to be this stiff and sore all the time. At least, that’s what her mother would have said.

It had been almost an hour now of waiting and watching Omega struggle with her anxiety over her brothers’ radio silence. Senna was worried too, but she’d had many years of experience with military operations and the anxiety they brought, many years of worrying over the fragile lives of soldiers. Poor Omega was still new to all this, to having family to worry over at all. 

“They’ll be fine, dear.” She reached out to pat the girl on the back. “I know we aren’t here for fun but, it sure is beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Omega was reluctant to be distracted, but she followed Senna’s gaze up into the trees, surprised to see dozens of small birds darting through the waving branches. Their twittering song felt almost familiar, despite there being nothing at all similar from her life on Kamino. “The way the sun comes through is pretty,” she admitted. “Was it like this on Bar’leth?”

“We had cedars like these. All kinds of trees. There was a wood like this behind my house. That’s why my parents moved there, instead of somewhere closer to the university. My dad loved nature.”

Omega’s eyes slid over at the change in the doctor’s voice. “Tech said…your parents are gone now.”

Senna smiled softly as a small, brown bird fluttered down from a nearby tree. It cocked its head at the two intruders before hopping forward to peck hopefully at a patch of moss. “Yes, dear. My dad died almost four years ago now. And my mum…I guess she didn’t want to live without him.”

“I’m sorry.” Omega paused before she wound her arm through the doctor’s, leaning her head against her shoulder as the little bird was joined by its mate.

“Sen! Omega!”

A cloud of startled wings rose from the trees at the yell from inside the ship. Omega shot to her feet. “Is it them?”

“They need a pickup!” Wrecked bellowed. “Come on!”

Tech was right. She did need to learn how to fly the ship. Senna swallowed her stomach back down as the thirteen year old dragged the Marauder into a sharp turn towards what looked like a sheer cliffside. “Omega! Careful!”

“I’ve got it!” Omega shouted back as Senna unbuckled her harness and stood, hanging on to the back of the seat for dear life when Wrecker lowered the ramp into empty air. She could see the small figures of Tech, Hunter, and Echo in an opening that seemed to lead back into the mountain. The other man with them must be the clone Rex sent them for. She gasped at the sudden flash of blaster fire; the clones parted and a soldier toppled backwards over the ledge, armored body plummeting into the tree line hundreds of meters below. Wrecker was hanging too far out of the ship, reaching for Tech as his brother made the jump onto the ramp. The clone in distinctive commando armor was next, then the Marauder rocked with a direct hit and Senna hit the deck. 

She was pulled to her feet by Tech before he ran to replace Omega at the helm. Wrecker thundered past on his way to the gunner’s nest as the ship swung away from the mountain. “Wait!” the doctor gasped. Hunter and Echo were still on the ledge. Senna screamed as Tech plunged the ship into a steep dive, his brother firing on their pursuers from the tail gun. Chunks of burning wreckage from the destroyed V-wings streaked past the viewports as Senna dug her fingers into the back of Omega’s seat. 

Another enemy blast pulsed against the Marauder’s shields as they pulled out of the dive, then a shout came from the pilot’s chair. “Shields are down. We’re losing power!”

The doctor watched Omega jump to her feet, running after Gonky as the droid waddled past them. She seized his charging cable and jammed it into the ship’s power conduit. 

“It’s working!” Tech confirmed. “Systems are back online.” There was a roar as the portside engine came to life. “We are coming back around,” the pilot warned. “Be ready!”

When the ramp lowered again, Omega reached out her hand for Echo, catching his arm as the clone jumped onto the stairs. He scrambled to the top, shooting Senna a glance before he turned back for Hunter. Senna had her eyes on the sergeant when the ship took a sudden dip away from the mountain. Hunter leapt for the ramp, just catching the edge of it, before he fell from sight.

Omega and Senna screamed in unison as Echo pulled the girl back into the ship. 

“No. NO!” Senna ran to the front of the ship, grabbing Tech by the shoulder. “Hunter—” She swung around when Gonky hit the floor, the smell of burnt electric filling her nostrils as the droid was overloaded by another blast to the ship’s hull. “Gonky!”

“Multiple system failures!” Tech yelled. “We cannot take many more hits!”

Hunter’s voice on comms ripped a gasp of relief from the doctor. “Get the ship out of here. I'll find another way back.”

Tech jerked his head. “Negative. The odds of escape are not in your favor.” 

“Go, Tech!” the sergeant insisted as Senna’s eyes widened in horror. “That's an order!” 

Omega’s hoarse cries sounded distant as Echo replaced the other clone in the copilot’s chair. “No! Turn around! We have to go back for him! Hunter, tell them to come back! Order them to come back!”

Senna dragged her eyes from Tech’s hand on the hyperspace controls to stare into Echo’s visor in shock as Hunter answered.

“Sorry, kid. I can't do that."

Senna was aware of the blue glow of hyperspace. She felt Echo’s hand on her arm. She heard him say her name. 

“Sen? Senna, you need to sit down.” The doctor blinked as he removed his helmet. She turned towards the rest of the ship, tilting her head in dazed confusion as her eyes landed on a familiar face.

The clone in the seat behind Echo’s sat up in surprise, his sharp, black eyebrows clearly displaying bewilderment. “Doc?”

Senna shook herself at the sound of his voice. “Gregor?”

Tech turned distractedly to glance at them over his shoulder. “You know each other? Why am I not surprised.”

The captain gave a surprised giggle and winced as it disturbed the blackened wound on his chest. “Yeah, uh, we met. Back on Kamino. I was in the hospital for a bit after, well, doesn’t matter.” He turned his attention back to Senna. “But you’re about the last person I expected to see out here.”

Senna pulled away from Echo to lean over the injured clone, biting her lip as she unclasped his cuirass and gingerly peeled the melted plastoid away from the fabric of his blacks. When had the smell of burnt flesh become so normal? “I could say the same for you! Why didn’t Rex just say it was you?”

“He seemed a bit distracted at the time.” Echo cut in grimly. Senna turned and met his eyes before they both looked over to Omega. The girl was taking sobbing breaths as Wrecker knelt beside her, one large hand around her shoulders.

“Omega, honey,” the doctor asked gently, “can you come over here and help me with the captain?” 

Omega looked up with a sniff, wiping her face before she nodded and set her shoulders. “I’ll get the medkit.”

“No, uh, it’s okay. She doesn’t need to—”

Senna cut Gregor off with a look as she helped him out of his shirt. “Omega was a medical assistant on Kamino,” she explained. “She knows what she’s doing.” 

The captain must have understood her intention, because he offered the girl a steadying smile when she returned. “A medical assistant, huh? That’s an impressive job for someone your age.” 

Omega’s own smile was thin and distracted. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Gregor. I’m sorry you got shot.”

“Mmm, not the first time.” Gregor watched the girl with thinly veiled confusion as she cleansed her hands, then unwrapped a bacta patch and handed it to Senna. “What, uh, what exactly are you doing here, anyway?”

Omega’s brow furrowed as she looked up at the captain, then over his shoulder to Echo. When her brother nodded, she turned back to Gregor. “I’m a clone too. Just, not accelerated like you.”

Senna almost smiled at the look of shock on Gregor’s face as she replaced her med scanner and smoothed the healing bandage over his burn. The commando rubbed at the base of ear as if he thought he might have misheard her. 

“You—you what?”

“That is correct. But this is not the time for that explanation.” They all turned as Tech swiveled the pilot’s chair around to face them. “We need to formulate a plan for Hunter’s retrieval.”

[nowoyas]

thinking about noya's timeskip and trying to figure out why, exactly, I don't particularly like it

the thing is that I don't think traveling doesn't suit him, necessarily. he's a (sonic the hedgehog voice) Guy That Loves Adventure! 👍 and wants to experience challenges and new things endlessly. but, I mean... there's too many questions.

the first, biggest issue I have: Noya cannot afford this.

Karasuno is not a rich school. They have, available, one bus for sports stuff for all their clubs. The team has to go out of its way to fund trips of any kind. They get where they get to from a combination of hard work and luck. Sure, Noya chose Karasuno not strictly because of money -- "it was close to my house", "the girls' uniforms are hot", and "I wanted to wear the style of boys' uniform that Karasuno has" are his three leading reasons for coming to Karasuno. You could probably argue, too, that there's an element of challenge involved--he keeps playing volleyball even at Karasuno with no coach, a rotating door of advisors (Takeda being in his first year of advising for the club), and the newly negative reputation that Karasuno has cultivated as a fallen powerhouse -- and maybe there's the academic element of "Noya is choosing to go to high school but isn't exactly cut out for Elite Rich Kid School With Horses and Fancy Buses and Navigation Signs On Campus" both in terms of personality and the fact that he's not academically-minded. But to me, Noya choosing Karasuno also implies that he doesn't come from a well-off family with the kind of money needed to suddenly decide "I graduated high school, time to travel the world with no clear source of income". He's got three older sisters, lives in a multigenerational household ("Compared with children in middle-income families, children from low-income families were more likely to coreside with their grandparents than to live far from them..."), and what little we do know about his grandfather only tells us that 1. he wears hawaiian shirts casually and traditional Japanese clothing on New Year's and 2. according to the Best Order Popularity Poll in 2020 (as referenced here), he’s an alumni at Chidoriyama middle school--notably, the only character in the "senior team" lineup who doesn't have a high school listed. Sure, maybe Furudate just knew that Mineo went to the same middle school that Noya ended up going to and didn't think that far ahead, but Furudate can also tell us how many siblings every single character has and how many are older/younger. This reads to me as an intentional choice: Mineo didn't go to high school, and hasn't left Miyagi since middle school.

All this reads to me as: Noya does not come from a rich family. I'll admit that I headcanon him as having a single mom and them being basically just well-off enough to be comfortable (or at least unaware of being poor a la my experience growing up, where in hindsight it's really obvious that we were poor but in the moment I just didn't know how hard my mother was working to keep us afloat), but even setting aside the single mom headcanon for these purposes, the evidence to me points to a generally lower-income family. In other words, unless Noya literally won the lottery, his family can't afford to bankroll him world traveling to Italy to go spearfishing and running to Egypt. Sure, it's possible that the Nishinoyas had college funds for their kids, and Noya's traveling on his college fund instead of going to college, but I think if he's coming from that kind of background he's less likely to go the "American who used to bully the poor kids for off-brand shoes taking a gap year" route and more likely to either funnel that money to his sisters (if they choose to go to college) or otherwise supporting the family. And sure, you can travel a decent amount if you're middle-class, but that's more like... upper-middle class, maybe center-middle class, and Noya's family reads to me as lower-middle class at the absolute highest.

given what we know and can extrapolate about Noya's background and family, I think Noya's working something out, but I don't think he's traveling unless it's like, once or twice a year and continuing to live with his family the rest of the time. it's more likely he's found part-time work, like cashiering or waiting tables, and spends the rest of his time thrill-seeking.

honestly, I do like Noya continuing to play volleyball, even if he hasn't gone pro. and I think under specific circumstances, he might choose to go pro--he has the skill and love of the game for it, and what he's lacking is more likely the day-to-day discipline required of professional athletes to maintain their bodies.

so this is what I would like to propose:

terror of the neighborhood association and its youngest member, recent high school grad nishinoya yuu. he's working part time. he rides into the city to wait tables. he's ten years younger than everyone else on the neighborhood association team, and nearly twenty centimeters shorter than the next shortest member. ukai can never stop bleaching his hair blond not even because he has a Look™ now, but because regular constant exposure to high school graduate Nishinoya Yuu is giving him grey hairs in his thirties. he works out and plays volleyball because it's fun. sometimes he helps out at Karasuno practices and for the two years after he graduates, he intimidates the shit out of his underclassman libero, not even on purpose. he's not officially a coach or anything, but he helps out a lot, especially if, for some reason, Ukai is sick or can't come to practice (eg. helping Ukai Senior with his continuing medical issues). he saves as much as he can to visit places like Italy and rent spearfishing equipment there, or see the pyramids in Egypt, or eat shit surfing in Hawaii for a week, and maybe he's not on the road or in the air as much as he'd like, but he's happy. I think, like Mineo, he can be happy anywhere.

[o0o0thorn0o0o]

Mineko Old Art Dump, Cont.

Part 2 of 2 :

Now, time for info!

So, for starters: her name. As mentioned multiple times by now, her name is Asano Mineko, as in 峯子. Whereas Karma gets his kanji from their mother (my OC Kuniko) and Gakushuu gets his partially from their father, Mineko gets the remaining two from both. I was trying to see if there was a similar “updated” thing with Gakuhou’s second kanji (like how 学 is derived from 學), but that doesn’t seem to be the case from what I could find. So even though I don’t need to explain why they did that for Gakushuu and Mineko, I came up with one anyway: it’s a trade-off. Gakushuu keeps the reading over the exact kanji, and Mineko keeps the exact kanji over the reading (Mineko was always the plan, though; not fond of “Houko”, especially for her).

I also mentioned this before, but since I’m dumping quite a bit of info about her here, I’ll mention it once more: Mineko’s the middle child, with her birthday being January 1st, just like her younger brother. In these AUs, Karma could be born on the same day, or he could still be born on Christmas—both ways are possible, though I have a slighter preference for the former for some reason.

Before I get into her personality a little, lemme explain some of the drawings. Only some things. The rest will definitely be mentioned in a character sheet—or before: if I happen to draw it again before it gets done, I’ll probably talk about it at least a bit. Let’s go in order now, shall we?

So, um, height? Mineko’s tall, but idk, I feel like I made her too tall in that Until Dawn AU sketch (she’s not in the AU officially, but I do think about her in it from time to time. And jeez, I need to post about that AU some more…). Either that, or I made Rio too short. Like, idk, year 3 Mineko is 5’6” (167 cm), and she’ll be 5’8” (172 cm) at her tallest.

Second: er, you know that sketch that looks like she’s holding a large ice cream cone in a weird way? Uh, yeah, that’s supposed to be a telescope ^^;;; I just never got around to adding the tripod… or, like, referencing an actual telescope instead of from memory, oops. I might actually turn that into a proper post, but no plans as of the moment. But yeah, anyway: Mineko loves astronomy, and one of her favorite hobbies is star-gazing.

Another one of her favorites that I feel like mentioning now, too, is she loves listening to and composing music—mainly instrumentals/orchestral music. She’s the kinda girl you’d invite to an opera, haha (though, not romantically; she’s aroace. The main reason why this is is because I did not want to end up making an OC to pair with her (this has happened multiple times before with others, so this is a way of me putting my foot down with her, haha). That, and it kinda references the fact that at some point in time I headcanoned Karma and Gakushuu as aroace. Though, I still do personally see them being somewhere on the spectrum. But yeah, she aroace).

Then that one sketch where the art style’s very different from the rest—I’m actually not too fond of it anymore, especially the face, but I thought to include because I like the rest of the sketch and especially because—you know that art style I dub my doodle style? The one where the nose connects to the upper lip, and if the mouth’s open, I add a bottom lip? The one I introduced Mineko in? Yeah, fun fact: this sketch was the start of that art style. It’s changed a lot since, but perhaps I wouldn’t have drawn in it were it not for Mineko, haha.

Last thing before I get to her personality and stuff: I’ll mention something about the traditional sketches. Idk if you can tell, but Mineko is a huge junk-foodie—a sucker for fast food. She still keeps track of healthy food, for the most part—but yeah, she’d never turn down fast food, haha. Also, regarding the water: she’s more likely to casually see food in a “romantic light” than she ever is people, haha.

Speaking of, I headcanon both Karma and Gakushuu as good cooks—they can whip up something decent, at least, haha. Mineko on the other hand has no such interest. She’s got her brothers, after all. She doesn’t see a reason to… until she grows up, and her brothers are living their lives, and she realizes she’s got no one to cook for her anymore… Welp, fast food and restaurants have never left her down before, haha.

Ok, now I’ll finally discuss her personality a bit… well, traits? I wanna talk about her intelligence first. She’s a very smart girl, being in 3-A, but she’s not as smart as her brothers and has to try harder to somewhat be on the same level grade-wise—definitely not touching the virtuosos, but 3-A all the same. She also participates in extracurriculars but not nearly as many as Gakushuu—she can only handle so much.

But while she knows she may not have as high an IQ as her brothers, she very much believes she has a higher EQ than them. And to her credit, she does, but probably not by nearly as much as she thinks. See, she’s emotionally repressed, too—don’t let that smile fool you, haha.

For one, she doesn’t like conflict and does her best to smooth things over when/if she can, play the middle man (she likes to think of herself as a bridge, connecting two conflicting sides (especially her brothers; she also likes to say that’s the reason why she’s shorter than them, as (certain types of) bridges tend to dip below the two points they’re connecting, haha. Just a silly thought she likes to muse)). She likes fixing conflicts but would never intentionally start any. Cautious of stepping on toes.

That’s always why she tries her best to plaster on a smile regardless of how she feels—everything’s fine, don’t you know? She’s completely happy with her circumstances; don’t ever worry otherwise! She should be more worried about you than you about her! But yeah, she’ll either only let it slip should a situation get too stressful that she can’t keep it up or if she believes she’s all by herself. All that said, she’s usually fine. Usually. It’s just… when she isn’t…

Also, this girlie’s got major trust issues and is a misanthrope (Gakuhou’s her dad; enough said). She does believe that, of course, not all of humanity is bad. It’s just… she doesn’t trust individuals, especially the more friendly seeming ones. She’s been raised in a family of masks, adorning one herself, so she has no clue whether someone is being genuinely kind or not. It’s just easier for her not to trust them rather than be let down. Everyone’s got hidden agendas, it seems.

And while she’s friendly and polite to everyone regardless of her suspicions—even when there’s blatant evidence she’s right. Because she wants to be kind and helpful regardless. And again, she kinda believes most are like that anyway. Proof is just more of a confirmation of something she believes already—and while most would find her company agreeable, she currently doesn’t have any friends outside her brothers. And nor does she care to. She doesn’t see what she’s missing. Why would you hang out with someone who’s potentially fake? While helpful, she tries to make herself scarce whenever she can.

But yeah, the only way she’ll ever make friends is through a whole lot of interaction; she needs to be able to build up that trust and feel safe. Being close to her brothers is a good start, but she’ll still be wary for a good while. Not something easy, essentially, and could take years. Hence, no friends as of the moment.

Er, yeah, I guess that’ll be all I’ll share for the moment. Ended up being a lot longer than I thought, but I don’t feel like cutting anything either. So yeah; here is she! I adore her, so I hope you like her, too, or find her interesting at least ^^

I feel like you know about her more than the other OCs I’ve already revealed when they’ve been out for a couple years now. Oops ^^;;

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

“I like your hat. Do you enjoy magic classes?”

Princess Charlotte smiled politely at the girl, but only got a small pout in return.

“My mom made me wear it,” she replied sullenly. “Something’s wrong with me and she says I have to wear it until she fixes me.”

Charlotte frowned. At first glance, nothing appeared to be wrong with the princess, aside from whatever dye Claudia used to dye her daughter’s hair seemed to be fading. That at least gave Charlotte some idea of what Claudia was really here for. Whatever was in the Crystal Cove archives wasn’t being sought out as a threat like Theodosia always assumed. Claudia was here on a mission as a mother and Charlotte could certainly relate to that. She would do anything for her own daughter.

“Well, while we’re waiting for your mom, why don’t we do a little tour?” Charlotte suggested, eying the preteen carefully. While Victoriana was a princess and used to waiting around fancy buildings with nothing to do, she was still a child and prone to tired outbursts and whining. Charlotte’s daughter was around Victoriana’s age and she knew too well how boring royal life could be for a child. “This isn’t your first time in this castle, I know. Unfortunately, the king doesn’t have any children in his residence, so anything fun like toys or games are usually in the other residences. Since you come here sometimes, maybe you could teach me some history.”

Victoriana shrugged, but didn’t seem opposed to the idea. Learning history was critical for future success her mother always said and Crystal Cove’s history was full of interesting historical events like wars and coups. Pleasantview’s history was filled with wars too, but they almost always won them. Crystal Cove had a history of love and loss, triumphs and failures.

“The study guide is over there behind that pedestal,” the princess replied. “The tour guides always hide them there so they can gather the group in a small area before starting.”

Charlotte followed her gaze and found exactly what she was referencing hidden behind a potted plant on a small bookcase. She smiled uneasily, unnerved that the child knew more about the functioning of the castle than even she did. This knowledge might have sent her wife into a panic, but Charlotte had seen the innocent, optimistic girl Claudia had been when she approached Charlotte about taking the throne Charlotte hated. Years had passed, but Charlotte still believed that innocent teen had the same heart. She knew all too well the demands of the Pleasantview throne and how most rulers needed to rule with fear to survive. Claudia was teaching her heir how to intimidate, but Charlotte believed that the threats were empty. Her own mother, the tyrannical Queen Charlotte I, had been a monster and enjoyed the fear she instilled in her subjects and children. Claudia could talk convincingly to the rest of the world, but Charlotte couldn’t see her mother’s twisted spirit reflected in Claudia’s words.

If that wasn’t convincing enough, Charlotte knew that Claudia was the child of reapers. While there were certainly terrible reapers and reapers drawn to violence and power, overwhelmingly most reapers were thrilled just to experience life again and respected the balance of the universe. Very few people knew this about her, but Charlotte’s own non-royal mother had been a reaper posted in Crystal Cove. What she once saw in the evil queen, Charlotte would never know, but she had been allowed to meet her reaper mother now that the queen was dead and unable to prevent it. From what she had seen of reaper culture and behaviour, there was no way that Claudia would act on the threats she so casually made; she had been raised to be better than that. Life and death were not for mortals to decide and the balance must be always preserved and respected. Surely this belief had been ingrained in Claudia as well.

“Hmm. Well, let’s start this tour then,” Charlotte said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll start and then you tell me if I’m missing something.”

Charlotte shuffled the tour guide papers quickly, looking for the beginning.

“Okay, as you probably know, before the Civil War, Mordred I reigned over Pleasantview, while Crystal Cove was ruled by Queen Sophia I. Queen Sophia had a handsome son named Albinus who fell in love with a beautiful commoner from Pleasantview, Spencer Lane. Spencer’s beauty was so great that it tempted Mordred's heir, Princess Zaria. Tempted, really? These guides are long overdue for an update. Anyway, when Spencer fell pregnant at seventeen, it was assumed that Prince Albinus was the father and Princess Georgiana of Crystal Cove was born. She was followed by a boy, Prince Spencer a year later. ‘Gesture at photo’-oh! That’s Georgiana in the middle of the portrait and Spencer to the right of her. Upon reaching the age of seventeen, as was the custom in Crystal Cove, the young princess submitted a DNA sample for the Crystal Cove genetic database, only to discover that she did not have a genetic link to her supposed father.” Charlotte paused for a moment, reviewing the script’s notes again. “These days you’re entered in the database at birth, or marriage in my case. It’s been that way since the Demon Wars over a millennia ago. It was an easy way to screen for demons passing for humans and to reunite families that were separated by the war. Have you read about that war in school too?”

Victoriana shrugged.

“I guess. Pleasantview didn’t fight in it, so it’s not as important,” she answered. “That’s Crystal Cove history and I’m not going to rule over Crystal Cove.”

“Let’s hope not,” Charlotte chuckled, hoping to keep her tone light and positive. “Though, as one former queen of Pleasantview to a future one, I think that you’ll be great at it.”

The young girl beamed at Charlotte in a way that felt genuine and unrehearsed. She hadn’t yet formed the cold, forceful mannerisms of her mother, but Charlotte had no doubts that they’d manifest pretty quickly once she became a teenager. That was the way of Pleasantview, just as she’d been raised.

“Princess Zaria was stripped of her title by her father because of this scandal, and Crystal Cove rejected the young girl for her half-brother Spencer, who was was then made crown prince. Georgiana fell in love with a yellow eyed demon, named Damien Baena, who she was forbidden to marry by King Mordred’s orders. Damien’s bloodline was too closely related to the royal bloodline of the demons for Mordred’s liking, among other reasons...or so we’re told. Georgiana would not be persuaded however, and she and Damien eloped and soon had a set of twins. Mordred’s cold heart softened upon seeing the infants and he reluctantly endorsed the marriage. She was the White Princess of Pleasantview and soon took her mother’s place in the line of succession.”

“Do you think that if I put my DNA in the system, it would tell me who my other parent is?” Victoriana asked breathlessly. “I mean, maybe they live in Crystal Cove or they moved there. Maybe my mom fell in love with a prince or princess here. I mean. it happened before.”

Charlotte’s heart sank, looking at the excitement in the child’s eyes.

“Oh honey, I’m sure that’s not the case,” she replied, trying to be sensitive. “Theodosia and her siblings are a bit older than your mother, and they haven’t really interacted with her from what I’ve seen. I’m sure that your mother will tell you one day, when she’s ready.”

“Yeah, I guess.” The princess slouched noticeably, looking defeated.

Charlotte could sympathize with the young girl, but had no way of comforting her. She knew all about feeling lost in a family tree with no idea of where she came from. Claudia had never acknowledged her daughter’s other parent though, and if Pleasantview didn’t want a fact known, there was very little the future queen consort of a smaller country could do to impact that.

“Well, um, here! This is the next portrait in the tour, King Spencer of Crystal Cove,” Charlotte said quickly. “Georgiana’s half-brother. Queen Sophia mentored him after finding out about his sister’s maternity. He launched a campaign to disinherit his father for agreeing to raise Georgiana as his own, knowing that she was the child of a foreign princess. When Sophia arranged to have her wife, her son and his wife murdered to eliminate them from the line of succession, Spencer had her arrested for murder and treason and assumed the throne. He was known as the Black Prince, whose heart and attire were as dark as the night. As soon as he had the throne, civil war broke out in Crystal Cove, fueled by Pleasantview who wanted their princess to assume the throne she’d been raised to inherit in Crystal Cove. A lot of innocent people died because of one family’s problems.”

“Why wasn’t he known as the Black King then?” Victoriana interrupted. Charlotte was surprised that the young girl who seemed to know everything historical had any questions for their tour.

“Because many people viewed him as an illegitimate ruler,” she answered, flipping over the card in her hand to make sure her answer was correct. “They saw Georgiana as the legally adopted daughter of the crown prince and wanted her to rule instead of her controversial brother. Many people wanted to share a ruler with Pleasantview as long as they could remain a separate realm. As I’m sure you know, Pleasantview has a great deal to offer a smaller country.”

When the girl remained silent, Charlotte tried another distraction. Clearly the question of her true parent’s identity had distracted Victoriana from their little tour and the last thing Charlotte wanted was to start a royal tantrum before Claudia got back.

“Do you know Sedona, the little area of Pleasantview the queen visits every summer? It used to be a country. Spencer married the queen of Sedona for money and political power and destroyed it. It went bankrupt and Pleasantview absorbed it after the war. I always liked visiting Sedona every summer when I was growing up. The monarch visits to remind the people of Sedona that they are a part of Pleasantview now, but it’s a always a lot of fun for everyone. Last year your mom had a whole festival, remember? She wouldn’t be able to do that if Spencer hadn’t destroyed the country in the war.”

It wasn’t great to promote the loss of the sovereignty of a nation, but it had been centuries since the civil war, and the people of Sedona now couldn’t remember a time when they had controlled their own country. While Charlotte’s mother had always been cruel to the people of Sedona, Claudia really had turned the tradition into a celebration of the unification of their countries. There were a few royal bloodlines left in Sedona, but no one had pushed to reinstate the monarchy since the country fell. Maybe that decision would change in the future, Charlotte couldn’t say. It didn’t look like Sedona would separate from Pleasantview anytime soon.

“So who won the civil war?” Victoriana pressed. “Pleasantview, right? We win everything.”

“Uh, not everything. That would be a dangerous idea to take away from this tour,” Charlotte quickly corrected. The last thing Charlotte needed was for Victoriana to get ideas about Pleasantview’s seeming invincibility. “A peace was brokered and no one won really. That’s how the Crystal Empire came to be. Spencer’s son and Georgiana’s son were engaged and married. They united the two warring factions and Crystal Cove and Pleasantview consensually and peacefully. Their daughter, Anastacia, named for King Mordred's mother, ruled the Crystal Empire as Empress. And the rest is history. This castle was constructed long before the civil war, during the reign of King Keegan, but it was where Prince Albinus and his family resided for much of their lives. It was also where King Spencer was held awaiting his trial for treason, murder and various other war crimes.”

“And where people died in the pool!” Victoriana added excitedly. “My teacher says the pool’s haunted and that there’s as many ghosts here as in the ruins of the Pleasantview castle. Which is a lot. Have you seen any of them yourself? I think I saw some once at home, but Mom said it was just my imagination. But! But Grandma and Grandpa says lots of souls passed through our castle on their way to the afterlife, so I probably did see some. The tour guides usually point out that spot over there by the stairs where someone was murdered by demons. The tiles are still stained with hints of blood and dark magic; they can’t clean it all off! Isn’t that cool?”

Charlotte frowned, making a note for herself to avoid the area the princess had pointed out. That did sound like a horrifyingly possible fact about this castle that she could have happily lived her life not hearing.

“Very cool. Why-Why don’t we try something else to pass the time? It looks like someone left a game out after all. Why don’t we forget about ghosts and demons for the moment and try to pass the time in a less...educational way?:

[just-alish]

MR14.2024 - How I revived the way I see English and Why I suck at life.

That one's a pretty long read, go ahead and pop in a tune while you're at it, yeah? - 1997 by Småland.

Despite considering myself a sloppy son of a bitch, soon to suffer the wrath of capitalism induced hunger, for the longest time I had this skill of mine that spiked among the others and kept me sane - my English. Here, down in Central Asia it is saddeningly common for people not to know basic English. That is what I think made me stand out in school and is what even now helps me out in uni.

And I’m not saying that I ever was a boy genius. God forbid. In my book, lil’ me just so happened to take interest in the World Wide Web, in which English spoken content was like a treasure trove, levels more appealing in contrast with the grey Russian media of the time. I can thank my iCarly obsessed sisters for introducing me to the concept of filming something and sharing it to strangers online.

It always seemed logical that content made in English is, by rule, superior in quality than the local counterparts. And for some reason, it just seemed like the niche that was there for me to explore. An ever-spreading ocean of sparkling online knowledge, unavailable to the ones around me, for the lack of interest in breaking and overcoming the language barrier, which in reality, is far simpler than it seems.

That is what I consider to be the icky, tricky side of committing yourself to a language most people around you don’t know - you may often make yourself way too alien for many to relate to.

I like to think that English is what shaped me and made my social circle full of interesting people. There was a neat period of my life, when it was lovely to spread the good word of the western media by sharing memes, films, and videos with classmates of mine who listened and liked the stuff I showed.

But, that is also what trapped me in the aforementioned circle.

In order to max out my English, I had to sacrifice my Kazakh, which sort of ruined my social life and has been actively affecting my grades since elementary school. I suppose I simply never noticed how I gradually have made myself more and more distant, enough for my peers to seemingly have a culture different to mine.

I struggled with connecting with new people, and having casual conversations with both close and new friends began growing more challenging, for the simple fact that they were not as terminally online as I am, therefore having their sense of humor not as influenced by brainrot content as mine is. I frequently stumbled over a convoluted idiom, which understandingly made no sense to their ears, referenced memes they never even heard of. The general incompatibility of interests did not make things better for sure.

So, I unconsciously made it my mission to localise my speech, which I believe only made things worse for me. Trying to understand English in order to dumb it down has only killed my passion for it. By speaking “clearly” I lost contact with a funny little British voice in my head that filled my routine with time for silly voice-acting and… kept me alive. As a guy who’s self-image heavily relies on his tool he uses to connect with his world, It felt crushing to seemingly realize my English skills were dull and deteriorating.

It stopped me from further practicing, because I repel stress like a bitch, opting for escapism and ignorance instead. The same escapism that made me the pathetic man I am today.

I am ending this post with a cliffhanger by letting you know that my “mother tongue” is kindly coming to bite me in the ass if I won’t put in the effort to learn it and will probably negatively hit my grades, risking my summer scholarship alongside my chances for a good future.

It’s all no fun. Sucks to be me. My heart aches. My chest sinks and I feel like eating rocks.

[amazing-spiderling]

for the fandom ask game: 5 6 11 16 23 24

something you see in fics a lot and love

I really love seeing Foggy sort of leap-frogging over his panic and anger and confusion in moments of crisis to get right to the part where he works on being helpful. That, "We are going to fight about this later, but right now I need to stop that bleeding" sort of thing. Foggy is absolutely allowed to have emotions and fall apart in a crisis, but he has a good head on his shoulders and certainly after a certain point he's had to learn to compartmentalize just to survive being in Matt's life. I think it's comforting to imagine having a friend or partner like that- I guess it speaks to the idea of there always being an undercurrent of love. No matter what else is going on in the moment, no matter how furious or scared or worried the events taking place right now make them, they do not supplant the love that is at the basis of the relationship. I just think that's neat.

something you see in art a lot and love

When artists really have fun with the clothing, paying attention to details and making things really specific. When someone really pays attention to drawing a certain kind of shoe- I'm just... yeah, that's the good stuff. :)

if you’re a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

Well, I'm a little bit of both- but I guess a fic sprang to mind first so I'll answer for that. (tw for fictional CSA mention btw) So, as I've not-so-casually mentioned, one of my first big/long term fandoms was Metal Gear Solid. And I know that some of the memes from that series have escaped containment, and to the outsiders it might look like "Call of Duty but with the occasional zany moment" but it does have a lot of story (too much, some might say XD) and intricate character relationships and lore and, ugh it's just SUCH fertile ground for art and fic and all the things that make fandom great. But, it *does* also very much appeal to gamer dudes of the usual type. And normally this is fine, the transformative fans and the archival fans largely keep to their own fandom spaces- but sometimes there is crossover that rubs one group or the other the wrong way.

One such case is that there is a character who has an "affair" with his step-mother, but I put that in quotes because when the dust settles, it turns out this happened when the character in question was 16. There is TERRIBLE fallout from the event (family trauma, suicide, estrangement) and the game plays it all straight- this is something that broke the already fragile family to pieces. BUT for a long time, the joke was "haha character banged his stepmom". Which. Ew.

Anyways, I always really wanted to write a story that sort of expanded on those events, not the actual relationship/abuse/fallout, but more the events that precluded it, mostly what made the character an easy target. (Isolation, otherness, a lack of confidence in who they were as an individual). Basically, I wanted to really tell a story that treated the matter with the needed level of seriousness, if only to say, "hey, this isn't a punchline, this is a traumatic experience".

I ended up watching, "The Graduate" a few times as sort of... research? Partially for tone, partially because the themes and characterization in that movie matched the vibe I was trying to go for in my own story. (I can't help but think that Kojima, known for referencing movies in his games- might have had it in mind due to some shared imagery.) This was maybe the first time I did something like that, watching a movie to pick it apart for nuance in tone, as opposed to looking at it for canon events, timelines etc.

So that story ended up being, "Surface Tension", which first appeared in the "Metal Gear Solid: Lost Years" zine, and then eventually got posted to AO3. It's not my best reviewed fic by a long shot (understandably, it's a difficult subject material and not shippy or anything), but it's one that I can say I am proud of.

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

Wow, this one is tricky for me- I feel like a lot of fans are way more detail oriented than I am when it comes to canon. I'm always the one in awe when people are like, "Oh in episode seven, this one song is playing in a car as it drives by, and that's significant because it came out in 2013 and that was the year that..." and i'm just like "you guys know the names of songs?"

I guess to that end- I always liked the line in, I think it's season 1 where Matt says it's a "90's Top 40" kind of guy. I think it's really funny because people characterize him as having... well, let's just say "better" musical taste, but like, no. That dude would bop his head if you played the Spin Doctors.

the fandom you’re curious about because of a mutual

I have no idea what's going on in the Trolls fandom, and at this point I'm afraid to ask. But they all look like they're having a great time.

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

I've made so many friends, and as someone who doesn't get out as much as I'd like (especially as an immunocompromised person in the middle of a pandemic), my fandom friends are so, so important to me. I love the feeling of having a group of people who love the thing I love and being able to waltz into a space and say, "Hey, who wants to do this crazy thing with me?" and have even a few people say "Yeah, let's fucking GOOOO". ^^

I also think I wouldn't write nearly as much if it wasn't for fandom, and writing has certainly gone a long way towards helping me become better at unraveling the balls of yarn in my brain and making them into sweaters and scarves, as it were. I think a lot of the time when you write, you're practicing empathy- because you're forcing yourself to see the world from someone else's perspective. Maybe the character you're writing about had something in common with you, maybe that's what drew you to them in the first place, but identifying that also helps you understand more about yourself *and* how you relate to others. So I like to think that writing has helped me relate better to other people, even the ones I disagree with, and made me more able to slow down and ask, "well, why does this person feel/think that way?" Storytelling is so important for a lot of reasons, but that's a big one for me.