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prettylittlelucygoose · 2 years

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lucyhale: Belle and Sam are taking Hula lessons today. Can't wait to see how well they do.

#twitter #[i just woke up but i am around if anyone wants me. mobile right now. gonna try to get on laptop later]

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norrisreads · 1 year

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kiss me kiss me #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader, mercedes staff!, platonic friendships with most of the drivers

SUMMARY: everyone has a crush on carlos sainz, everyone including you

WARNINGS: fluff fluff FLUUFF!!!!!!!

FACECLAIM: jennierubyjane on ig

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Daydreaming and people watching was something you’ll caught yourself doing mostly. At times, working in the motorsport industry, you’ll find yourself being busy but yet so free and here you are just staring into the space while sitting on the sidelines of the mercedes paddock club.

Until you felt someone sitting next to you, “Just to let you know, taking a picture helps, the staring is a little intense, y/n”

you recognised the voice of a specific Williams racings driver.

“what are you talking about, i’m just people watching as always albon. Where’s lily?” you shrugged your shoulders

“lily’s coming in a while, no but i am serious y/n, pipe down on the staring at the ferrari’s. George and I have been on a look out for you, you’ve been out here for at least an hour”

Honestly, you didn’t know it has been an hour until Alex told you off.

To tell the truth, you had a little crush on the driver from ferrari, specifically carlos sainz. Everything about him, just happens to be your exact ideal type. The only interaction you had with him was during the after party where he offered a drink & that’s probably when you started gaining feelings for the said driver.

“he’s so pretty and i am just this” you told alex.

“you could get it you know, there is alot of the engineers and staffs who are interested in you, especially because you’re always living up the moments, they’re just scared of toto”

Susie and you were close, ever-since you’ve decided to work under Mercedes since the age of 20th, which you’re currently on the second year right now. Susie and Toto tends to favour you especially when you were one of the youngest working under Mercedes amg, being close to the both of them practically means getting invited to family dinners, team dinners and more.

Other than Toto and Susie, you were also close to George and Lewis, and being close to George means you’re close to the Williams driver Alex Albon too. You were friends with the other drivers too, but aren’t quite close which resulted in your current situation.

staring at carlos sainz. “you know he’s freshly single?”

George came and joined the conversation between you and Albon. He then passed you a pair of tinted shades, “put some shades on, think it’s getting a-bit too obvious”

the comment by george made the both brits laughed, while you rolled your eyes to express your annoyance by their presence.

“being freshly single, does not mean i will give it a try, george. We have a 6 year difference, you know how i am with age gaps”

“if you’re gonna pull the age gap card, i’m going to pull myself out of this conversation, lily and i literally have a 3 years gap”

“no shit Alex, multiply that by two and it’ll be mine and the ferrari driver”

“To make you feel better, y/n. Think about Pierre’s and kika’s, theirs are way worse than you and him” george speaks out

“let’s move on, this is just us 3 being delusional”

“yeah you’re the delusional one, we’re just manifesting that you’ll have him sooner or later” Alex shrugged his shoulder and went back to the Williams paddock.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Qualifying for the spain grand prix has just ended, you were just walking around the paddock clubs area, instead of being at mercedes, you’ve decided to explore a little. Susie had suggested for you to have a quick walkabout knowing your job tasks was done earlier in the day, and you were just waiting for the drivers to be back on the mercedes building.

Fully focusing on the application opened on your mobile phone, you weren’t really well aware of your surroundings until you bumped in-to a certain someone.

shit, “lamento lo ocurrido, oh..?”

the universe has decided to aligned with you today, because right now you could feel the bpm of your heart rate increasing to more than 100.

“oh y/n right? i didn’t know you can speak spanish” carlos was holding on to your shoulders to balance you from the impact of the bump the both of you had.

“no, no. I meant yeah, i’m y/n, what i am saying is no i can’t speak spanish, those words were kinda taught to me by google, just for this weekend” you nervously stuttered and laugh

“that’s a cute effort to learn, where are you headed to right now? it’s a-bit crowded ain’t it?” carlos continuing the conversation

did mother earth suddenly decides to love me today?

“yeah cute effort i guess, oh just walking around trying to familiarise myself with this surrounding for tomorrow’s race! yeah it’s way crowded rather than yesterday! congrats on p2 for qualifying by the way!”

having a conversation with him feels utterly weird yet you’re thankful for this situation to happened, because whew this man couldn’t be anymore finer than a greek god.

“Gracias, lindura! See you later, perhaps? George’s on his way, by the look of it I think he’s finding for you love, it was nice talking to you” carlos smiled and waved at you, walking alongside Lando Norris.

dings

three little pigs

russell: what the fuck was that? were the two of you talking?

albon: what’s going on

what does, lindura means? cutie????: y/n

albon: did he called you that????????

albon: ANSWER ME!

russell: they bumped into each other, they had a 5 mins conversation, in that 5 minutes she told me her heart rate bpm increased to 110 (she thinks) he also held her

albon: why are you answering me

russell: i’m telling you the details that she’s telling me right now, appreciate it you idiot

guys i think i’m in love, Spanish accent is so sexy to wake up to everyday, six years is nothing to me : y/n

albon: i could simply ask charles for carlos contact y/n, let me do it please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

russell: she just smacked my shoulders

“this is crazy george, that’s like my second time talking to him”

you paused your walk and turned yourself to face george

“hey guys” a thick french accent.

“oh charles, what a great timing” george pulled charles to the side and into our conversation

“hi charles”

“what’s this about? not in the Mercedes sidelines today staring into our building, y/n?” charles laughed which made my eyes turned wide

“what the fuck charles, YOU NOTICED? it was just one time, i swear.” i hid my face with my hands

“if it wasn’t for george’s tinted glasses, carlos would have caught you, good thing carlos is oblivious to everything” charles snickered yet finding the whole staring interaction adorable knowing from george about your tiny little (not tiny and little) crush towards Carlos.

“fucking embarrassing, this is my last appearance here. Im quitting this job” you rolled your eyes jokingly

“as if toto, susie and lewis will agree on that, you’re the sweet child of mercedes. Good-luck on pursuing carlos though, he’s a great guy y/n!” Charles ruffled your hair and walked off to the red building.

“I’m submitting my resignation letter tomorrow, i’m telling you Russell, leclerc can’t keep his mouth zipped. If half the grid knows of my little crush, it’s 70% chance my resignation letter will be on toto’s desk latest by next week” you sighed, for seeing the future

“dramatic as always” george laughed

y/nsocials just posted on Instagram (followers only)

tagged lewishamilton susiewolff y/nbestff

liked by georgerussell63 carlossainz55 and 11 others

y/nsocials may & beginning of june dump 💋🎞️

pierregasly this isn’t a dump , i’m not even in the dump cherie

↳ y/nsocials do you hear that? the sound of me not giving a shit ♥️

↳ charles_leclerc can’t back you up sorry mate pierregasly

carlossainz55 cute :)

↳ y/nsocials thank you carlos! ♥️

georgerussell63 alex_albon cute X)

↳ mickschumacher cute :>

↳ lewishamilton cute :p

↳ y/nsocials I’m resigning.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

SPAIN GP 2023 AFTER PARTY

you were on your way to the after party with alex and lily, the others has already reached and you had to ask for a ride with the couple.

“how’s the progress of you and carlos, i’ve seen the comment”

lily asked u, i wish there was a progress though.

“the only progress there is was the fact my heart beats faster now whenever i think about the comment”

“dramatic as always, but i am being for real. Lily and i are curious, y/n. I can always ask for carlos contacts and pass it to you” alex rolled his eyes

“you were dramatic too when lily answered your dms. No alex, i want his attention the old fashion way, with him giving me his phone number by himself”

you sat back on the car seat with lily making sure your current outfit wouldn’t get ruined

“well i’m sure with what you’re wearing now, his eyes will be stuck on you all night and that phone number will be in your phone as soon as possible” lily commented and that comment had made you feel 100x more delusional as ever

dings

sharls shared a contact with you

sharls : he’s asking where’s your current location, i know the both of will you never do it, but i’m impatient

sharls : if he did ask for your number tonight, it’s because of me

what the fuck? what the fuck does charles means…..

what are you talking about??????? what about me? : y/n

Carlos Operatoooooor

russell changed group name to : carlos operatoooooor

russell added mickey chewsmacker

russell added chewis hamiltons

russell added sharls leclerc

russell: recruited new member(s)

mickey: why did i not know about this y/n

chewis: it was obvious mick, you should’ve seen her having her everyday ‘carlos’ watching hours

russell: every 2pm, don’t ask just watch

sharls: if stares could kill someone, carlos would’ve been dead

i’m in this chat idiots. I’m not invisible. : y/n

albon: we’re on the way, she’s with us! Lily thinks carlos is going to hit on her tonight, let’s see

sharls: i’m not surprised. Let’s see if toto lets y/n walk around though, first challenge 😨

you were going to fucking throw up, you were finally sitting down after celebrating max, lewis and george’s wins. Being in a huge crowded place wasn’t really your forte, but for the sake of your job you had to do it.

Other than that, susie had to bring you around to engage with other teams knowing how anti-social you are, and here you are finally having a breather outside of the club and zero signs of the carlos sainz.

you weren’t really a smoker type of person instead just a casual smoker but ever-since fully adulting, resulting to having a few puffs allowed your thoughts to permanently vanish.

you were covering your shoulders with Alex’s denim jacket (of course with the permission of lily’s) , sitting on the porch of the back exit of the club. Whenever the door swings open, you could here the songs bass booming and you could just feel a headache coming sooner or later.

Just a few minutes in, you felt the denim jacket that was on your shoulders lifted up, and replaced by a red jacket.

“thought this might be a better option, you look much greater in red anyways”

and there he was, carlos sainz taking a seat next to you.

and you’re so sure your heart is over the roof because there wasn’t any gap between you and carlos sainz.

“thank you, i don’t know about red, teal looks much better on me”

“well to me, red looks stunning on you. everything alright? too much to drink?”

if it wasn’t for the amount of blusher you’ve decided to use, the redness on your natural cheeks would’ve given away from the said comment

“just a slight pounding in the head, taking a breather. you want a puff?”

well honestly, you don’t even know if you should be offering him

“thanks for the offer love, but i don’t smoke. do your own thing, i’ll be accompanying you. A pretty woman shouldn’t be alone on the back exits”

if there’s anything a few drinks could do is having you feel so much bolder

“don’t flatter a woman like that carlos, she’s gonna fall for you especially coming from a ferrari driver”

“I wouldn’t mind flattering a woman if it’s you y/n”

there was a moment of silence because you had no idea how to react, “it’s the drunkenness in me but you’re driving me crazy carlos”

“care to explain, mi amor?”

you shook your head because no sane woman would tell the guy they have been eye-fucking that they’re interested

dings

carlos: hey cutie

“that’s my number, got yours from charles, if you’re ever wondering”

incoming facetime from mickey chewsmacker

answer or decline

“that’s mick’s name?” you nodded your head and Carlos laughed

you answered the phone-call and set it to loud speaker

“where are you little lady”

“back exit, it’s too loud in there”

“with mr prince charming?” you could hear Alex’s voice in the background

“if it’s me then yeah, she’s with the prince charming” carlos butt in the call, which made my face turned a shade of tomato red

not knowing mick was crowded around the others was also something you’ll never expected

“so no more staring from the sidelines?” this time, charles

carlos looking at you confused, you refused eye contact with him which made carlos snatching your phone away to have a conversation with charles in italian and with charles drunk on the phone, you knew the moment carlos looked at you wide eye you’ve realised charles had told him those staring moments, he then ended the call

“taking a picture would’ve lasted mi amor, i’m surprised i am unaware”

“i wasn’t looking at you, you were just in the view” you shrugged

“and that view is me?” carlos laughed and rested his head on your shoulders “you’re really cute, do you know?”

“yeah it happens to be you and i am fully aware Carlos”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

3 MONTHS LATER

y/nsocials just posted on instagram (followers only)

tagged carlossainz55 y/nbestff

liked by charles_leclerc susiewolff carlossainz55 and others

y/nsocials i fell in luv but that’s okay cause i’m in luv 💋💋 #baggedaman

lewishamilton so will you be on merc or ferrari’s side from now on 🫨

↳ georgerussell63 answer y/n. our friendship is on the line

↳ mickschumacher we manifested this but we didn’t foresee this situation

↳ alex_albon yeah whatever they said ^

↳ y/nsocials dramatic all of you. merc forever of course (maybe)

↳ carlossainz55 she’s ferrari’s on sundays

carlossainz55 always swayed by you mi amor 💋

↳ charles_leclerc no longer eye fucking on the sidelines yeah

↳ y/nsocials charles_leclerc STOP PERCEVAL.

↳ y/nsocials love you so so sooooooo much

landonorris boyfriend stealer 💀😠

↳ y/nsocials cry about it!!!!!!!!! mine forever 🫢

y/nbestff give her back to me carlossainz55

↳ carlossainz55 sorry no can’t do

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

↳ end note: that’s all!!!!!!! sorry for rarely posting, have been kinda busy w school nowadays! hope you guys enjoy the carlos fluff 💋

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz one shot #Spotify

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whatsnewalycat · 7 months

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Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

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

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this morning is different.

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

It echoes back to him.

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

How can nothing be so loud?

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

The gears in his brain start to turn.

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

Understanding twists his guts bowtie.

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

He finds nothing.

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin.

He goes outside.

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

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

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

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

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

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

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

I love you with everything I am.

Until the next life,

Lua

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

—

The words don’t compute at first.

He shakes his head and reads it again.

And again.

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

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

This isn’t right.

This can’t be happening.

He needs to talk to you right fucking now.

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

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

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

Your voicemail picks up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time he gets nothing.

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

What the fuck does that mean?

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

Your phone jumps to life.

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

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

“Dieter?”

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

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

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

“A note, what does the note say?”

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

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

“Until the next life?”

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

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

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

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

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?”

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

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

Parker continues.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“I know, baby, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

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

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

It takes him three seconds to find it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds.

—

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

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

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

“What about—”

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

“Is everything alright?”

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

He hangs up.

The second person he calls is his lawyer.

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

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

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

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

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

“How would one get the charges dropped?”

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.”

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Is she going back to New York?”

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

He doesn’t answer. She continues.

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

A groan of agony rises in his throat.

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

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

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

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

“No, of course not—”

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

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

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

The nausea returns.

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

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

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

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

He laughs.

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

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

But for once, he feels completely sane.

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

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

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

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

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.”

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

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

“How’s she doing?”

His stomach twists.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

“So you don’t know where she is?”

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

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

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds.

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

He speaks it out loud.

“She’s in the fucking woods now.”

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

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

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

Darlene stays quiet.

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

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

“But what if it’s not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

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

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

He huffs and takes a drink.

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

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

“Because I’m still your friend.”

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

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

“You have a meeting with the DA?”

“Not… necessarily.”

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

“Doubt it.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Zero two one four eight eight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh.”

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

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

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

Seconds twist under his skin.

The minutes lodge inside his throat.

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

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed.

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

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

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

This time it’s different.

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

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

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

A burden.

What a load of shit.

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

Of fucking course he would choose you.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.”

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

“Lord, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“And how do you know that?”

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

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I pick out your hair?”

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

—

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

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

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

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

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

—

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

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

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

Thank fucking god.

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

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor.

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster.

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass.

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

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

Seriously.

He has no jurisdiction here.

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

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore?

Eating. This. Shit. Up.

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

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

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

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

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

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?”

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

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

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

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

“How much does your man know?”

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

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

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

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

“Off and on for two years.”

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

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

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

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

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?”

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.”

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

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m cutting you off.”

“I am not that drunk.”

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

“Sorry to interrupt.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?”

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

“You guys do this often?”

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

“Cute,” Dieter mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wouldn’t it make you feel better?

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

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

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

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

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

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

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken.

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

There’s something else, though.

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

Anika and Dieter.

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

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

But it would have faded.

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

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

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

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation.

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

—

Sometimes things go sideways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucking everywhere.

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

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

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is an opportunity.”

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

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

He studies Dieter carefully.

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

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

“Hundred thousand.”

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

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him.

He releases a big sigh.

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

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

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

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

“Louella Friedman?”

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, well, yeah—”

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

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

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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delulu-with-wandanat · 9 months

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More Romanoff-Maximoff family shenanigans during a vacation

(Based on a true personal story LMAO)

‘Traveler Mom’ Nat x ‘Forgetful Mama’ Wanda

The family were having a vacation in New Zealand. They rent an RV so they could have an exciting family adventure. It was currently Wanda’s turn to drive. They stopped by at a gas station to fill up the gas.

A little longer fic SO BUCKLE UP

“I’m gonna go to the toilet.”

“Alright, I’ll fill up the gas tank.”

“You kids want anything?” Natasha asked the kids who were sitting in the back, engrossed in some mobile game.

“Nope.” Their teenage daughter said popping the ‘P’. “Oooh can I sit in the front? Sitting backwards in an RV is making me dizzy.”

Natasha nodded, “Sure honey, go ahead.” she then left to go to the toilet and Y/n moved to the front seat.

Few minutes later, Wanda enters the driver seat. “Hey Mama, gas all filled up?” Y/n asked.

“Yeap! And we’re ready to hit the road.” Wanda then moved the car forward.

Y/n thought her Mama was just trying to park the RV elsewhere so they don’t take up the space. Until Wanda didn’t stop and slowly got on to the main road.

That’s when Y/n had to put down her phone and look back. Maybe her mom entered the RV without her noticing (she was a spy after all), but no there was only her little siblings who were sleeping. Still, no sign of her mom.

The music ‘Closer to Fine’ started playing. “Oh I love this song!” Wanda said nonchalantly and started singing along.

“Closerrr I am to fiiNEEEE” Wanda sang while accelerating the RV.

“Mama?”

“Clo- Yes, darling?” Wanda asked, still oblivious.

“Where’s mom??”

That’s when Wanda’s eyes almost popped out of her eyes socket, “HOLYSHIT-“ she slammed on the breaks.

THUD!

- Natasha’s POV -

Natasha got out of the toilet just in time to see the RV slowly moving forward. She thought the same thing as Y/n. Until Wanda instead started to move the car to the main road.

“Oh no… ohhhnononono WANDA!” She quickly chased after the RV

“WANDA PLEASE STOP.“ She chased the RV like a madman.

“DETKA”

She prayed to god one of their kids don’t inherit Wanda’s memory of a dory.

“WANDA PLEA-“ and one of her kids did remember, unfortunately the sudden break of the RV and the speed of her running cause Natasha to collide head on with the side-view mirror.

(PEEP THE BARBIE AGENDA)

#natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha #wanda x natasha #wanda #wlw #romanoff-maximoff family #scarlet widow #scarletwidow #wandanat parents #parents wandanat #wandanat fanfic #wandanat fluff #moms wandanat #wandanat x daughter!reader

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absoluteabsolem · 2 years

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okay guys i'm having a brainrot on my way to work about goncharov bc of all your sexy meta posts but i haven't seen a single one talking about the flowers in this film so indulge me

so i'm a florist right ? my n°1 passion when i watch a movie or a show is to trashtalk the flowers bc 99,9% of the time they look like shit. like. i made better arrangements during my first year of training. it makes me sad. yes goncharov is a brilliant film in itself but it gets a whole star just for the fucking flowers (i can't find the florist in the end credits if anyone knows pls tell me ??)

like we're talking thierry boutemy in marie-antoinette (2006) levels of artistry. all the arrangements are so BEAUTIFUL and i'm gonna talk about them. it will ofc mostly be about katya lmao bc men yet have to express themselves through delicate floral jewellery (i wish they did though. i am waiting). katya doesn't have that many lines for a main character but her presence and the colours speak for themselves. sorry i'm on mobile i don't have any pictures

alright so of course you have the wedding. everything is so fucking opulent it's a cascade of wealth you have almost no foliage at all except eucalyptus and that shit is expensive. there are more peonies than you could ever count and the roses are soooo beautiful (i think most of them are juliet peach roses but i can't be 100% sure) like. i could smell it from my couch it was as if i was there aaaa the fucking wax flowers and scabiosas i love scabiosas so much !! and the perfect balance between flowers of different sizes !!! it was wonderful i mean you've seen them

but what i love about these arrangements is that they're all in white and yellow. it's an unusual combo for a wedding even if white is a classic wedding colour in western cultures and yellow isn't so weird at the heart of summer. yellow is however also the colour of jealousy and betrayal and idk if you ever noticed but andrey's boutonniere is the ONLY ONE that is just yellow. you don't have the white carnation (associated with love. screaming) on it like everybody else. also note that katya's bouquet is only white which is all about purity elegance etc. i do think however that the colours of andrey and katya's flowers on that day are more about the way goncharov feels about them at that point in the story, rather than their own feelings.

we also see katya wear several decorated combs in her hair throughout the film (idk enough about hair stylism to comment of the haircuts themselves so i'll stick to the flowers). the first we see are pretty simple and not rly noticeable, white and pastel pink, typical discreet but feminine stuff. p much like the rest of her wardrobe up until the boat scene where things get interesting.

this is where katya meets sofia who is wearing that rly fucking gorgeous burgundy (ambition, power and wealth) dress and look i know monica bellucci can wear anything and be beautiful but fucking hell. i mean i'm gay but i briefly questioned myself for a second there. anyway. the boat shenanigans happen and once katya goes back home and pretends she didn't almost get fucking killed, the flowers in her hair are burgundy. i mean i know we have the fruit market a bit later but the comb is what sold me on that ship. i see you katya

when she almost shoots goncharov (if we were rly in love you wouldn't have missed AAAAAAA i'm normal) she has a super pretty mix of blue hydrangea/eucalyptus in her hair. blue is the colour of control and tranquility and i thought it was very sexy of her. she still has them when sofia leaves her and i love how you can see the tears about to fall down her cheeks but she doesn't allow it. things got out of hand but she's not willing to lose control of herself in front of sofia and i think ultimately it's what fucked things up between them but i try not to think about it too hard

what DOES however keep me awake at night is that martin scorsese rly thought it was okay to have red bouquets everywhere made in the exact style of goncharov and katya's wedding in goncharov's home when andrey shows up to kill him. i mean the subtext isn't even subtext at this point it's like saying point break isn't gay but the flowers are the fucking cherry on top. andrey shoots him and he doesn't miss because he loves him and in case you're too dense to understand that here is a decadent display of red and burgundy. it is the colour of love it is the colour of violence and in their case one simply does not go without the other and i am so fucking normal about this

#goncharov 1973 #goncharov #sorry this was long but UGH. i never get to talk about flowers to anybody

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gremoria411 · 2 months

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How to get into Gundam

Because fuck it, I was gonna do one of these sooner or later anyway.

So you want to know what this Gundam thing’s about, maybe you like the mecha design, maybe you caught part of an episode one time and want to catch up, or maybe you saw a nice piece of Chamuro fanart and want to go to the source.

But there’s so many shows and timelines that it can be quite daunting on first look, so this guide is intended to give a rough overview.

I would however like to stress two four things beforehand however:

This guide is not intended as “The One True Way” or anything. There’s no harm it coming into it a different way, and these are only my own opinions.

There’s nothing stopping you from just watching one show and leaving it there. You don’t have to watch every single show going, even I’ve only seen most of these, not all. Gundam typically has variations on similar themes - it’s very nice watching multiple shows because they complement one another, but it’s not necessarily required.

I am very much an insider looking out here, so let me know if there’s any details I’ve missed.

I’m not gonna recommend these on a “if you like X, then watch Y basis”, mostly because I don’t personally find genre recommendations helpful, so I’d recommend picking based on promotional material (vibes, if you will).

I’ll be using this chart, supplied by the excellent@l-crimson-l, to illustrate everything.

Gundam as a whole can principally be divided into three sections: Universal Century (or UC), the Alternate Universes (AU’s) and the Build Series.

The AU’s are below the light blue line, near the bottom of the Chart, the Build Series is within the bright green line at the top-right corner of the chart and UC is the big line in the middle. We’ll talk about each of them individually.

The AU’s

The Alternate Universes were conceived as a way to get away from the continuity-heavy nature of Universal Century and provide an easy jumping-on point for new fans. The AU’s are standalone and require no prior knowledge, and are thus an excellent place to start. Honestly, I’d recommend quickly searching some promotional materials (like posters) and just going with the one you find most appealing based on that. They are (in production order):

Mobile Fighter G Gundam (1994)

New Mobile Report Gundam Wing (1995)

After War Gundam X (1996)

Turn A Gundam (1999)

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED (2002)

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 (2007)

Mobile Suit Gundam AGE (2011)

Gundam: Reconguista in G (2014)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans (2015)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury (2022)

There’s side series and movies and other things besides, but these are the mainline shows, if you will. I have specific notes on a few of them:

Witch From Mercury - It’s of a shorter length than is usual for mainline shows, so consequently it’s a much smaller time investment than the others.

Mobile Fighter G Gundam - While undeniably rad as hell, I would recommend watching another AU first. G Gundam differs from its stablemates in a few key areas, and I find it helps to have a contrast to fully appreciate those differences.

Gundam AGE - is probably the only one I wouldn’t recommend. I didn’t like the art style and the technical explanations just got on my nerves, so I stopped watching.

Turn A and G-Reconguista are technically part of UC as well, but it’s not really crucial information so don’t feel like you have to watch UC first (I’m only including this detail for completionism).

I’ve found all the AU’s I’ve seen to be pretty good, so I’d say that which one you start with really just comes down to personal taste.

The Build Series

Is just kind of doing its own thing. The Build series is basically Buy Our Toys: the series. It’s got a far lighter tone, and I’ve had cause to compare it to pokemon prior. It’s also chock full of references and in-jokes to the other series.

Build Fighters and Build Fighters Try are the ones I’d recommend - they’ve got actual stakes and the fight scenes are really good.

Build Divers and Build Divers Re:rise I can’t recommend - I just find Build Divers aggressively boring. Build Divers Re:Rise is just okay - neither standout good or particularly bad. Its main flaw is that it’s a sequel to Build Divers.

The OVA’s are pretty much bad across the board - I’d particularly recommend avoiding Gundam Build Metaverse.

Universal Century

Universal Century is the big main timeline of Gundam, and is the timeline the original Mobile Suit Gundam from 1979 takes place in. There’s a tendency among certain fans to place UC as the one-above-all of Gundam, but I wouldn’t really go that far. It’s all pretty good, but I wouldnt really say one timeline is better than another (save personal preference, anyway).

Because UC is so big, it can be subdivided a couple times. The primary division is “Mainline” UC versus everything else. Basically there’s four-five shows in Universal Century from which everything else flows. As long as you know roughly what happens in these shows, then you can watch basically anything else in UC and have a good idea of what’s going on. These are (in order):

Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) - sometimes called Mobile Suit Gundam 0079.

Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam (1985)

Mobile Suit Gundam ZZ (1986)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Char’s Counterattack (1988)

With Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn (2010) as a nominal fifth (honestly I feel like you could argue either way).

The rest of the shows are:

Mobile Suit Gundam 0080: War in the Pocket (1989 Three-Episode OVA)

Mobile Suit Gundam F91 (1991 Movie)

Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory (1991 Thirteen-episode OVA)

Mobile Suit Victory Gundam (1993)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team (1999 Twelve-episode OVA)

G-Saviour (2000 Live Action Movie) - nobody ever talks about or acknowledges this one, it’s just here for completionism.

Mobile Suit Gundam MS Igloo (2004-2009 Three OVA’s with three Episodes each)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin (2015 Six-Episode OVA, adapted from the Manga of the same name)

Mobile Suit Gundam Thunderbolt (2015 Eight-Episode Series, adapted from the Manga of the same name)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Twilight Axis (2017 episode, adapted from a light novel of the same name. Later rereleased as Gundam Twilight Axis Red Trace, with additional footage)

Mobile Suit Gundam Narrative (2018 sequel movie to Gundam Unicorn)

Mobile Suit Gundam Hathaway (2021 ongoing movie series, very much adapted from the novel Hathaway’s Flash)

Most of the other series relate to events in the aforementioned “mainline” shows in some way, but a lot of the sidestories set during the One Year War require very little introduction (Thunderbolt, 0080 and 08th MS Team). Similarly, works set in “Late UC” (F91 and Victory Gundam) carry on from the other series thematically but don’t have any plot connections, so they can all be watched without any background knowledge of the rest of the Universal Century.

Compilation Movies

Just a quick note here - many of the Gundam series have compilation movies, where either a whole series or part of one are compressed down into a movie. While each movie compares differently, they usually boil down to this: Compilation Movies usually have worse pacing, but really nice animation.

One of the great things about Gundam is that different shows offer variations on themes, so seeing how different characters react to similar situations, or how different settings change their approaches can make it incredibly rewarding.

I haven’t seen enough of SD Gundam to make any sort of recommendations there, and Manga is something I might touch on another day.

EDIT: Oh hey also: You can watch a good chunk of these on YouTube, for free, officially. The Official Gundam.Info YouTube channel rotates the series shown on its channel periodically. I think it’s got F91 and SEED on there currently? But it’s had Wing, 00 and Witch From Mercury before. Also all of the Build Fighters series are there.

So yeah, that’s a thing.

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sparklecarehospital · 25 days

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Heyy Eve! I'm so sorry for the Disqus thing that happened. I must say though I absolutely ADORE this webcomic to bits (To the point that I made this character you see here! it's a self-insert-) it's been basically a little anchor for me for timekeeping for a bit while volume 4 was up (I started reading with my partner near the end of volume 3) and I gotta say I love your characters and the story overall! Sparklecare, Cometcare, Darker Matters etc etc. I am always excited to see stuff from the you and the ZCP! My uh, current favorite character is Brigh, so I'm really excited for the next volume! I hope for everything to work out well, Eve!- Let's hope you all can work these issues out sooner or later- Kind regards, Kay Otik (Cipher!), Your local chaos-loving feline

Thank you so much!!! I'll be real, comic updates actually helped me timekeep as well. I don't have a traditional job or go to school or anything so my schedule isn't really super structured, and I kept track of time based on update days. It's funny, literally on Friday I had no idea it was Friday because the updates had been keeping me aware of time passing.

I'm really glad you enjoy all of the stories! They make me really happy too. :] and I also absolutely adore Brigh so I'm also pretty hyped about V5 LOL plus the fact the next volume is gonna be readable through the new site. I really hope that the new site will make reading the comic on every device a lot more comfortable because I know atm it's genuinely a nightmare trying to read on mobile OTL

I'm hoping too!!! Wish me luck 🙏

#answers

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megumi-fm · 3 months

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this week fortnight on megumi.fm ▸ the last leg

is that a pun referring to my aching ankle? yes. is resting at home for another week gonna ruin my mental health? yes. but am I exaggerating and throwing a tantrum for something that's probably not a big deal? also yes.

📋 Tasks

💻 Internship // progress tracker ↳ biopython model replication ✅ ↳ code for obtaining single fasta from overlapping sequences ✅ ↳ running HMMer and superfamily script✅ ↳ output analysis 🔁 ↳ literature review on transport proteins 🔁 ↳ transport protein family analysis 🔁 🎓 Uni ↳ our paper is finally out! there's a doi and everything now <3 it's not open access though :/// I might do some totally legal things to ensure more people can read it ↳ collected the hardcopy of my LOR ↳ collected my gradecard ↳ visited my advisor and updated her on stuff 🩺Radiomics Project ↳ radiomic features finalized✅ ↳ data cleanup 🔁

📅 Daily-s

🛌 consistent sleep [14/14] 💧 good water intake [14/14] 👟 exercise [/14] just basic stuff to maintain ankle mobility

Fun Stuff this week

💗i went to uni to watch one of my friends present something to the juniors! then I spent the afternoon chatting with my guide and later on went window shopping with my best friends (in retrospect i should not have done this because my ankle got infinitely worse the next day and now I'm stuck resting at home for an additional two weeks) 🎮playing undertale with @muakrrr 📺 ongoing: Marry my Husband, Cherry Magic Th, Perfect Propose, Doctor Slump, Flex X Cop 📺 binged: Blueming, Roommates of Poongduck 304 📹 Started watching Going Seventeen // so I've been listening to SVT for a while now and I did watch their Don't Lie II eps like two years ago but I never really checked anything else... however, considering that I'm stuck at home and that @zzzzzestforlife (who has impeccable taste) has mentioned it often on their posts, I decided to check out GoSe properly and. wow. I started with their mystery episodes [fav scenes under cut] and now I'm watching GoSe2020 in chronological order and !!!!!! The concepts, the storylines, the acting, the humour, the editing, even the subtitles are all so so good. I've been watching this show for two weeks now and I am now officially a cubic <3

📻 This week's soundtrack

Wk1: The Best of ATEEZ // I've been real obsessed since their 2024 world tour clips started showing up on social media; I was a casual enjoyer up to this point and then I went and checked them out and it's all so dystopian and immersive. My favourites would be Intro: Long Journey (which makes me feel like I'm in Pirates of the Caribbean), the Symphony version of Wonderland (for its musicality and Jungho hitting those notes), MATZ (that is insane in it's the visual storytelling in the MV) and Wake Up (whose performance choreo ended me) Wk2: The Best of BTS // in an attempt to revive a project I abandoned a year ago, I spent wayy too much time curating this playlist to get the most satisfying BTS transitions ever and I can confidently say that I'm nowhere close to my goal T-T but I kind of like the way it is now so I am simply going to give up

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[Feb 12 to Feb 25 ; week 7+8/52 || this was not supposed to be one post but then... idk what happened... I feel very dull lately because of my ankle and just when I thought it was getting better it's become painful again... my friends and parents keep chastising me (and fairly so) for trying to move around even before I fully heal but patience has never been my strong suit. sitting still is really the biggest punishment for a hyperactive ADHD kid like me... i'm sure plenty others have it worse but... yeah... GoSe really carrying my mental health right now ]

my fav GoSe scenes

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galaxyseclipse · 4 months

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alright, gonna try to be slightly more organized than last time about my thoughts/theories/observations about Side Order also this might be a shorter post than last time because there isn't a whole ton of trailer, it'll mostly be about the artwork tbh

so I'm just gonna start this by saying I really dislike the "it's all New 3's dream" theory, it feels like a cop-out. I'm not saying it is 110% untrue, just that I don't like it and hope it isn't

how do I explain the transition from the train to Inkopolis Square? New 3's on the train to Inkopolis Square(which is fully unlocked after beating Side Order; the option just takes you to SO until then) and falls asleep, one matrix-y transition later and we're in Eight's pov inside of whatever simulation they got dragged into. it's purely to transition the player from New 3 to Eight, and the events are completely unrelated

or I'm utterly, wholly wrong! who knows!

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another thing I noticed on my millionth trailer rewatch was this

it's just to the right of the tower in the shot where everything materializes. it looks like a filling cabinet? it's in the last trailer we got too, I checked, but not the first teaser(granted, a lot of stuff wasn't)

I dunno, probably not anything super important, but it's not there in the Square in 2, so I thought I'd point it out

edit: look at reblogs, it's probably actually a set of lockers

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I've seen a shockingly small number of people bring up this guy

so far(maybe there's more talk of them on twitter or something idk)

they're clearly pretty prominent, they're next to Acht, Pearldrone, and Eight, so they have to be important, right?

my first guess is that they're something a la CQ Cumber or ORCA, just the one who explains the rules of each level and splats you if you fail. but it feels redundant to have both them and Acht, who already knows a good amount about this place, explaining stuff to you

I dunno I also see twist villain potential from them, just because we haven't seen them before now. like, "hahaha! It was I who fucked up this place, and now that you've helped me hack the mainframe, I can take full control!" or something idk lol

I'm not even gonna try to guess what kind of sea critter they are lmao

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now onto the real stars of the show

these fuckers

hopefully y'all already know that I am a firm believer that the one in the center is Agent 4, seeing as they're the only one of the group with ears and tentacles, and those two features bear resemblance to "canon" Agent 4. the rest don't have those, so that one is clearly important, right? am I being delusional? probably

setting that aside, what are these things in the first place? they're most likely related to the fish guys in some way, both being covered in black goo with glowing red eyes

I personally think that they're either mobile versions of the copy machine from the lobby, or some weird, goopy creation of the simulation used to replace enemy Octolings in gameplay(which is a fun twist, haven't had enemy Inklings before) otherwise I have no idea lol. they're enemy units and that's all I've got

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there's also this thing

featuring a lot of Acht's head

kinda looks like the Octowhirl to me, but like, less octoweapon-y and more coral-ish, with the same red eyes as the fish; probably a boss of some stripe, or tougher enemy

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something else that's probably inconsequential I noticed in the artwork

the different colored color chips have different text on them, probably stating what kind each one is?

notably, the blue one(the one used in the trailer) doesn't have the same text on it, that moved to the red one

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I think that's it for now; I have picked apart the artwork as much as I can/want

I'll bet if we get a direct before the 22nd, we'll get one more small trailer or maybe just a repeat of this one. though judging by the trailers Nintendo's been releasing lately, that feels oddly unlikely to me

but idk I'm just a weirdo who likes staring at fictional cephalopods

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #side order #splatoon 3 side order #octo expansion #dedf1sh #acht splatoon #agent 8 #agent 4 #side order theory #i think this might be longer than last time actually lol #i dunno i'm just rambling at this point

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year

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lunch is served!

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,”

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, they have a daughter, and reader still can’t cook (sorry)

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

Hi I’m back, I did not forget about this I swear!!! Anyway I’m gonna go in with the usual spiel, requests for this are always open, and leave a comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) I’ll sort out links iab because mobile is being mean to me lol

When little Jingmei is fast asleep on her father’s lap after succumbing to a nap she’ll later deny the existence of, you often try to find topics to entertain Zhongli with as he waits patiently for his daughter to wake up. When you’re not around, he’ll pick up a book, or take a nap himself, but he takes great pleasure in talking to you like this.

When you open your mouth to start a new topic, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him. And you do, nuzzling yourself into his chest, and pretending that you don’t notice the subtle sigh of content he lets out.

“Li,” you start, relaxing into him fully. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Zhongli chuckles. “I am almost certain that this is some kind of trick.”

“It is not.” You scowl. “Am I not allowed to ask why my husband loves me?”

“You are, provided you don’t start a row when I give you my answer.” Zhongli’s hand trails up to your hair, gently massaging circles in your scalp.

If Zhongli really had to think about why he loves you, he’d probably struggle to quantify it. He’s been in love before, of course, but the way he feels with you is somewhat different. Perhaps it was initially your determination that drew him to you, or it could be your positivity, or the fact you brightened the days of all who were near you. But more than anything, it’s the fact that being with you feels like home. You’re his treasure—a gem he’s spent millennia searching for, and now he has you and he knows you love him as much as he does, he’s at peace. But expressing that in a few simple words will only lend itself to misunderstandings and you accusing him of using filler and metaphors to get away with not answering his question.

“I know my question wasn’t that hard.” You tease, prodding him slightly. His body is somewhat firmer when he’s in his half dragon form, yet at the same time, his touch envelops you in warmth and comfort. He tilts his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile.

“It was, my dear. How do you expect me to translate years of affection into one sentence?”

“I expect you to do it with enthusiasm.” You joke lightly. Jingmei stirs ever so slightly, muttering to herself as she adjusts herself, her tiny rounded horns digging into your thigh. “If I asked her why she loved me, she would answer immediately.”

“Jingmei would say it’s because you feed her.”

“And that is a perfectly valid and acceptable answer.”

“For an infant. I know you well enough to know you would not accept that from me.”

It’s true, you would not accept that from him. You expect his millennia on Teyvat to grant him the vocabulary necessary to express his love. But at the same time, seated the way you are, you can feel that he cares. It’s in the way he cradles you head to his chest, the way he strokes Jingmei’s hair with contented pride, the way his breathing slows as he savours the moment he’s sharing with you. Yes, you’d love for him to bullet point everything that's led him to this moment, but what’s to point in that?

“I changed my mind. Don’t say anything.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll probably just make me cry, and then Jingmei will wake up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love.” He chuckles. His laugh almost rumbles through him, stirring your daughter slightly. You pout, as if to complain, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t want her waking up any other way. But then her head drops and she falls back asleep again, whispering softly to herself.

“I do wonder what she dreams about,” Zhongli marvels.

“Probably food. On that note, I’ll make lunch.” As you stand to leave, Zhongli’s hand wraps around yours.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Pretending your cooking is edible is an arduous affair. Let’s wait for Jingmei to wake up and then we can make something together.”

“You insult me.”

Despite the fact that your honour has been attacked, you wait for your daughter to wake up before tackling the matter of making lunch. At the mere mention of making food, Jingmei disappears up to her room, decking herself out in a chef’s outfit she’d gotten from Xiangling for her birthday.

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,” Zhongli jokes, helping her onto her stool so she can reach the kitchen counter.

“I am a good cook, Daddy. Promise.” She shoots back, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I believe you. Your father is just a big meanie.” You pull her into a hug, smothering her face and cheeks with kisses until she’s falling apart with giggles. “We should leave him here to make the food and play with your toys instead as punishment.”

“Let’s go!” Jingmei turns away from the counters and grabs your hand as she runs upstairs.

“You two are such cheats.” Zhongli complains quietly as he turns to the stove. His words fall on deaf ears as you’re already too far away to hear him.

#tswzhongliflufftober #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #fanfiction #zhongli fanfic #zhongli flufftober #flufftober #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin fan fiction #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact

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