#2 of them i think i am just not going to do. 1 of them i need to do and will be an absolute fucking bitch. 1 of them i should do but will be

[golden-bubblebee]

OH MY GOD this is such a big gripe for me!! I love my baba lots, but he has this idea that

1. Animation = boring and for kids

2. Animation = it is all the same

And I'm like!! No!! I even pooled anime into it just to get my point across, comparing the storyarc of Death Note and I think Prince of Egypt. Bc there is no comparison!!! They're two wholly different movies!!

And I agree, some animation does look more 'childish' (read: more rounded out 3d animation, like rise of the guardians) and some movies are better at finding that balance between 'adult jokes and themes vs child jokes and themes'. Emperor's new groove is a film that I think is very good at it. Personally, I think frozen less so. So guess what! I'm not rewatching frozen! It wasn’t my jam! But not because of the animation. Frozen has beautiful animation! Those don't go hand in hand!

Guess what, some of my favourite movies are from 1969 and 1993. On modern tellies, they are grainy blurry films. This doesn't stop my love for them!

I tried arguing this with him again when he was watching Love Death Robots on Netflix, an adult animation series in which every episode is its own shortfilm, and they're all animated differently.

I said 'okay what abt LDR then. You like watching that. That's also animation!' To which he replied 'no but LDR is different'

Maaaan. The difference is ofcourse that LDR is not a family film. There is nothing about that animation that's meant for kids. Well guess what, neither are Death Note and Naoki Urasawas monster! Those are animations, and they are big and scary!

Plus, I do also think that automatically assuming animation is only for kids, because it is animation is just plain wrong.

I tried using Big Hero 6 as an example. 'It's a film about a guy who loses is brother in a horrible fire. It follows his story of falling into a depression because of it, and slowly crawling back out when he goes on a journey to find the cause of his brothers death, and avenge him'

Does that sound like 'kids only' to you???

He then shrugged and said 'animation just isn't my thing'. Which, I do think, to an extend, is fair. Sure, you prefer irl people films. I can’t really say anything because I personally am not a big fan of live action films.

But there is one difference that gripes me:

Animation always looks different. Look me in the eye and tell me that Atlantis and tangled are the same style. I dare you.

Ofcourse there is stylistic overlap (Atlantis, Treasure island, prince of Egypt - Moana, frozen, tangled) but the messaging and themes of each film is different. Treasure island is a darker film, with pirates and tech and futuristic objects. Prince of egypt is oranges and reds, nature and architecture and a vast expanse of nothingess. To me that's like saying 'Oh I didn't watch Into the Wild, because it has real people in it. I watched the Matrix, and that had real people, and that wasn’t really my thing.'

It's not an argument I will win with him soon, mostly because he is so strongly convinced that kids movies ≠ family movies (if it's for kids, I can't enjoy it! Even if they deal with heavy topics like bad familial bonds, mourning and depression, having your dreams crushed, losing all hope, and so on) and that animation = animation, even though there are strong stylistic differences in it.

Maybe next time I should tell him that news media and social media are the same thing and that I don't go into newsmedia bc I get all my info from social media instead. Watch him get an anheurism right there in front of me.

animation being treated like a genre instead of a medium is something that actually makes me go insane. beauty and the beast is a romance. the emperor's new groove is a buddy comedy. big hero 6 is a superhero movie. moana is an adventure film. the lion king is a drama. treasure planet is sci-fi. if i was talking to someone who hadn't seen these movies before, and they weren't specifically interested in animation as a medium, then i wouldn't necessarily assume they'd enjoy all of these. and that's just disney movies! try telling an anime fan that fruits basket and fullmetal alchemist are the same genre and see how they react!

[shawtylex09]

HIYAAA could you maybe do something about teacher izuku with pro hero girlfriend/wife?? I was thinking of a scenario where his partner is always staying up, working on some hero stuff and he tries to lure her into bed to rest. Maybe include a making out session :3

Hiiii!!! I was literally gone all day doing things, so lemme cook you up someone good pookie. ����

Slight smut warning. 18+

You sat in your office, a hand running through your messy hair and your eyes stinging with lack of sleep. A heavy sigh slipped passed your lips as you dragged your hand down your face, glancing at the clock.

1:47 am.

Wonderful.

You still had quite a bit of paperwork to go through, and some emails to draft, and you’d been sitting at the goddamn desk since 10 pm.

“That’s what I get for being a procrastinator.”

You mumbled to yourself, sighing heavily and grabbing your pen again, continuing your painful paperwork.

You had been deep in your work, until you felt eyes on you. Your eyes flicked to your right, where you saw your lover, Izuku Midoriya, standing there.

“Sweetheart..what are you doing awake? You have to be awake for school in a few hours..”

You mumbled, your brows furrowing with concern as you spun in your chair, facing the tired man you called your boyfriend.

Izuku wasn’t wearing his glasses. His hair tousled and his tee (that was yours that he stole.) was loosely hanging off of one shoulder. He didn’t bother wearing pants to bed, the shirt was long enough to reach his upper thigh anyway, the black boxers wrapping around his muscular thighs.

“Come to bed..”

He mumbled, rubbing his eye with a slight pout on his face. It was obvious he was displeased with your current position in your office chair, and not in bed, holding him.

“Baby, I’ve got work I gotta do”

You said as a smile pulled at your lips, seeing your boyfriend sleepy and more than ready to have you in his arms warmed your heart.

Izuku whined in protest, walking over to you and grabbing your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Please..? You’ve been working all evening..I haven’t been able to see you because of your paperwork..and it’s already 2 in the morning..”

Your boyfriend mumbled, pressing a few feather light, and sickeningly sweet kisses to your knuckles.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, cupping his cheek with the hand he’d been kissing.

“Zuku, I need to finish my work. Why don’t you go lay down okay? I’ll be back in bed when I finish up these papers.”

Your tired eyes dragged to the desk as you gestured to the stack of papers, sitting on the desk and taunting you with the task of finishing them.

Izuku frowned, then, an idea popped into his head, and he grinned mischeviously. You looked up just to see your boyfriend shifting to sit in your lap.

You blushed and gently placed your hands on the sides of his thighs, feeling his boxers under your touch.

“Izuku..”

You said softly, slowly shifting your hands back around to the plump curve of his ass. Izuku blushed softly and cupped your cheeks, his calloused thumbs running over your skin with a careful touch.

You smiled a little and gave his rear a playful squeeze, Izuku rolling his eyes as you did so. He leaned in closer to your face, tilting his head to the side

“Why do you love squeezing my ass?..you weirdo..”

You laughed softly and shrugged, a grin gracing your features as you gently groped his plush curve.

“It’s not my fault you’re so curvy baby”

You whispered softly, to which Izuku blushed, glancing away as you leaned closer to his face.

“Shut up..don’t say that kinda thing..”

He muttered shyly, his eyes moving to yours. You smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Well, at least let me show you how pretty you look, baby”

And with that, you pressed your lips to his. Izuku’s lipd were slightly chapped from him chewing on them, but they still had a certain softness that left you wanting more and more each time you kissed.

Izuku groaned softly, his hands moving to your shoulders, his fingers slightly digging into the fabric of your shirt as he kissed you with equal passion.

You softly bit his bottom lip, a whine leaving him and making you break the kiss only to chuckle, then your lips found his once again.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, sliding his fingers under it to feel the smith skin of your abdomen under his fingers.

Meanwhile, your hands moved to his thighs, gripping the curves and planes of his smooth skin, only covered by his boxers, which held a tent from his manhood.

You smirked while you broke the kiss, looking up at him as you ran a finger over the bulge in his boxers.

Izuku whined and bresthlessly moaned as you rubbed his tip through his boxers, giving you a half lidded, needy gaze.

“Sweetheart..don’t tease me please…”

He whispered, a flush on his soft, freckled cheeks.

You laughed softly and smiled up at him, a mischievous grin settling on your lips.

God you loved his whiny tone and flustered expression.

“Cmon, let’s take this to our bedroom, yeah?”

You asked, not wanting to tease him too badly, but also enjoying your affect on his body- seeing the way he physically responded to your touch definitely excited you.

Izuku vigorously nodded at your words, gripping your shirt tightly as a deeper red coated his cheeks. He knew what the hazy look in your eyes meant for him, and he felt a pit of heat grow in his stomach.

“Yes- yes let’s go”

Izuku gasped as you picked him up, loving being manhandled, even if you weren’t necessarily rough with him.

He knew he was in for a long night.

Ty for the ask, ilyyyyy!!!

[vixensdungeon]

Hello, my little woodland critters. Today just for fun I'm going to walk you through the process of generating a character for the original 1974 edition of Dungeons & Dragons. I'm just going to use Men & Magic for this one but might do another one later with the supplements!

First, we get some dice. Three six-sided ones to be exact. I'm actually going to grab some with pips rather than numbers because that feels more authentic. Then, we roll and record their sum, repeating five more times, generating six ability scores. Here we go!

Strength 9 Intelligence 17 Wisdom 12 Constitution 16 Dexterity 13 Charisma 13

Yippee! As a witch these make me very happy indeed.

Next, we'll pick a class to play. Based on the abilities I rolled I'm of course going to pick the magic-user (the witch class didn't exist yet, alas). And as a magic-user, I'm actually allowed to futz with the numbers a bit, removing two points from Wisdom to gain an extra point in Intelligence. This gives us our finalised array, and we can now know the effects of each ability on the character.

Strength 9: no effect Intelligence 18: +10% to earned experience, eight extra languages Wisdom 10: no effect Constitution 16: +1 to each hit die, 100% chance to survive certain spells Dexterity 13: +1 to missile fire Charisma 13: maximum of 5 hirelings with +1 loyalty

Okay, languages. The character speaks the common tongue of the continent she lives in, along with an alignment language. I'm going to pick Neutral as my alignment so that's the language I speak. I also speak eight creature languages, which I'm going to pick later.

For equipment, we're going to grab our trusty 3d6 again, roll them, and mulitply by ten to find out how many gold pieces we have. I rolled 10, so I have 100 GP. I'm going to buy a dagger, the only weapon a magic-user is allowed. In addition I will buy 50' of rope, a large sack (for treasure), a leather back pack, a water skin, six torches, a flask of oil, a small silver mirror, a bunch of wolvesbane (in case of werewolves), a bunch of belladonna, and a bug of garlic (in case of vampires, or pizza). Not sure what the belladonna is useful for but you can never be too sure. This leaves me with 48 gold pieces that I will use to buy rations when I'm heading on an expedition of some sort. To calculate my encumbrance, I add my dagger's weight in gold pieces (20) to that of my miscaellanoues equipment (always 80, though a referee is allowed to make sure this stays within reason), for 100 GP of weight. I'm well within the limit for light foot movement, which will likely mean I'll have the responsibility of hauling loot out of the dungeon. Maybe I should invest in a second sack…

As a magic-user of the 1st level, I am titled a Medium, and will require 2,500 experience points to reach 2nd level (Seer). I roll 1 die (six-sided), adding +1 for my Constitution getting a total of 2… Tha'ts how many hits my magic-user can take before death. Let's hope she rolls better on the next level, assuming she survives. She fights with the strength of one man!

I can memorise one 1st level spell for my journey. Not knowing what I might face in the dungeon, I pick something witchy that I think can really save the group's butts: Sleep. All level 1 spells are in my spellbook so I don't need to worry about which ones I can memorise.

And that's pretty much it! Now we just give the character an imaginative name… How about Naiviv?

Onwards to adventure and glory, Naiviv the Medium!

[utilitycaster]

1. My biggest isssue (as a POC) is when is a character POC or otherized? Do we use IRL or in world? Beau is Human, brown woman. At no point in C2 is the fact that she is brown comes up other than discriptions. Her humaness is what matters especially in the COB. She is treated the same aa Caleb. Fjord, Nott and Molly havs far more in text displays of racism towards them. Ppl dismiss jester as being "white" but insist dorian is poc. When in world they are the same colour.

2. And teiflings would be more discriminated against. I know robbie is poc and dorian is blue but hes a genasi. In the world of exandria i view him and ashton as the same race. So i see these weird arguments online and its always a cross steam trying to use both in world races and irl to prove a point. Since i am examining the world of exandria i use the races displayed there and no attention to what the people look like irl. Also it avoids unintentional sterotyping down the road

3. An example ppl drawing drow and ashton with black racial features (my own) and then someone else complaing that the fandom made the asshole and the would be villian into black men. This fanon has unintended consequences once the story is fully fleshed out. Saying Orym is non white (despite Liams art direction) is bad because people to this day are mad Marisha made beau dark. It cant be both way. This way ppl can headcanon stuff so they dont have 2 go looking for other ips for representation.

----

So this is a really good point and I am, as said, an ethnic/religious minority but not a racial one and so this is how I tend to interpret this stuff in fantasy works, especially ones that have multiple species (humans, elves, etc) as it's not limited to Critical Role (ie, happens in Dragon Age too), which I think is what you're saying here but feel free to let me know if I'm wrong:

There's "is this character treated, in-world, as racialized" (which is often more contextual in a lot of fictional works in a way it is not IRL due to patterns of colonialism in our world, which is a long conversation I'm probably not equipped to articulate well, but just as an example, Fjord is racialized as a half-orc on the Menagerie Coast, but half-orcs in Yios, for example would have a very different experience). In other words, do people within the work of fiction discriminate against them on the basis of race? Anyway, as you said, Fjord, Molly, Jester, and Veth in her goblin form are treated as The Other; Fjord (and Molly, though his memory is only a few years long) grew up with this experience whereas Jester and Veth grew up, for different reasons, sheltered from or unaffected by that discrimination. Beau didn't experience racism in-world, nor did Veth in her halfling form, despite both of them being visibly nonwhite. For a Dragon Age example, Bellara, Davrin, and Antoine grew up with racism as elves, but Neve did not (and indeed comments on using her privilege as a human mage among human mages) despite being visibly nonwhite (and despite Antoine being white).

There's then "is this character treated out of world as racialized", or in other words, do fans treat them as nonwhite. This is also complicated, and this is something I can speak to as Jewish people who are not also POC experience 'conditional whiteness', ie, when right-wing people want to hate Jews we are the nonwhite infiltrator and when left-wing (and often themselves white) people want to hate them they are the white oppressor. So racist fans will hate characters who are nonwhite (like Beau) and fans trying to prove their blorbo cannot be criticized on the basis of oppression. In this case, Beau and Veth are nonwhite; Fjord and Jester often vary depending on what argument the person wants to make; Molly, as opposed to Jester, is almost NEVER drawn with nonwhite features (which frankly says a LOT of unflattering things about the white queer centering, now that I think about it); etc.

And then there's "is the actor/creator racialized in real life," ie, Robbie, Aabria, Anjali, Utkarsh, Aimee, Christian, Mica, Khary, etc are all POC and the main cast are not. Most of their characters are nonwhite, but few are racialized - Shakaste, Deanna, Bor'Dor, Opal, Deni$e, and Reani do not experience racism within this setting. Genasi (as played by Anjali, Robbie, and Taliesin) are a complicated case of being tokenized/model minority within the Empire, and the Silken Squall being inspired by native culture but their role within the world only slightly touched upon such that it's hard to draw a definitive conclusion.

And, since I referenced it in the tags elsewhere, for an NPC case: Essek is racialized by the people of the Empire (as a drow) along with the rest of the Dynasty; he is not racialized within the Dynasty and is indeed in a privileged position there; and whether or not he's treated as nonwhite by the fandom depends on whether someone wants to hate on him or defend him on the basis of identity. He is an NPC, and Matt's white, but in theory could be controlled by a nonwhite GM such as Aabria, or a nonwhite player in the way that Robbie played Cerkonos.

Anyway: completely agree that a lot of people do this in the end so that they don't have to seek out like, Desiquest or Rivals of Waterdeep or Into the Motherlands or other APs run by actual real nonwhite people either because of parasocial connections to the cast, the fact that CR has a larger fandom and they want the attention, or the fact that often they are here for white queer characters and bring in nonwhite characters (and headcanons of white characters) as some kind of armor against criticism.

I think in terms of character interpretation you do need to consider both in-world (Fjord is textually treated as the racial other to the point of self-harming to fit in; you cannot treat him as The Racial Majority in the world without being noncanonical) and out-of-world (irl people are racist towards Beau) but yeah a lot of people really want to have it both ways.

This happens a lot with queerness too - one of the big backlashes I experienced during this campaign is when I pointed out that Exandria is not, in fact, a setting with systemic homophobia and Imogen's experience of being othered in Gelvaan is an extremely bad metaphor for queerness given that she can read people's minds and almost killed two people, but it is true that people irl may be homophobic towards Imogen as a character. But again, you need to be consistent in those arguments - if you are talking about in-world racism or homophobia, you cannot bring up Imogen or Beau, who do not experience these things. If you are talking about fandom racism, you can bring up Beau. And if your issue is racism and representation in the real world, you can and should push back on (for example) people being racist towards Utkarsh for daring to exist and not know every rule of D&D when Emily Axford is onscreen but also we are watching a show of 8 white people when there are other actual plays with a more diverse cast. And yeah, fanon isn't canon and if the character is only nonwhite in your mind, it is not racist of people to disagree or to not vibe with them and it's also worth checking, if you are headcanoning someone with an identity you do not personally have, to see if you're falling into harmful stereotypes. Why are you headcanoning Orym, a character who doesn't experience in-world discrimination, played by a white man, as nonwhite, instead of seeking out works with textually nonwhite or racialized characters? And why are you incapable of accepting that sometimes you'll like a character who is not on every single axis of oppression and it's like, fine, provided you work against oppression in your real world life? If your faves are always white or always men (or, frankly, always demographically like you) then maybe take a look at yourself and who you are capable of relating to, but if you have a mixture of diverse favorite characters it's fine if not every one of them checks every single box.

[odinsblog]

@the-explorers-journal

I do not disagree with what you’ve said here. I would only like to add: SOMETIMES it absolutely is easier to destroy something than to create meaningful change … however … sometimes effecting long lasting, meaningful change is quite easy.

I am loathe to use him as even a negative example, but by denying Obama the opportunity to seat his SCOTUS choice (ineffective and milquetoast as Merrick Garland is), Mitch McConnell very easily made a long lasting change. Trump and the Republicans—even though some of their edicts will undoubtedly be overturned—are giving a master class on how easy it is to make lasting change (yes, even though it’s change for the worse).

And I want to be absolutely crystal clear here on two things:

1) Not all marginalized and oppressed people who are desperate for meaningful change are bomb-throwers who are being “too impatient” or “not being pragmatic enough.” I feel (perhaps wrongly) as though that may have been an unspoken implication/accusation in what you said in your post. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had quite a lot to say about members of the oppressor class calmly calling for “patience” and “pragmatism” from the people who are being marginalized and oppressed 24/7/365. The people who aren’t hurting, who have some privileges - they do not get to dictate what is or is not “the appropriate timeframe” for change to occur. Time and pragmatism™ are luxuries that many oppressed people simply cannot afford. Taking the same approach for every problem isn’t wise; sometimes pragmatism might actually be the wisest course of action, but many other times, we need to adhere to the fierce urgency of NOW!

2) As a very simple example, I want to highlight times (for immigration policy and to raise the minimum wage) when Joe Biden and the Democrats actually could have effected long lasting and meaningful change, but opted not to because they were supposedly “overridden” by an unelected official—the Senate Parliamentarian—who Republicans have overridden multiple times before to swiftly make their changes into longer lasting law.

I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes you need elected officials in power who not only “understand” the pain of marginalized groups, but who also actually want to be supporters and active partners with said groups to help make long lasting, meaningful change possible.

Being practical, pragmatic and patient absolutely do have their virtues and benefits. No doubt. BUT … sometimes, maybe just maybe, sometimes simply taking full advantage of a low hanging opportunity that is right in front of you, that is also prudent, practical and pragmatic,no??

Sometimes, being “pragmatic” just means fucking going for it while you still can! Stated differently, do all the good you can while you have the power to do so, without worrying about whether or not your opponents will say mean things about you. On this concept, Republicans understand and execute. Republicans sure as shit were not worried about what Democrats might think or say about them as they rolled back Roe, elected a fascist, and cheered for a Nazi doing a Nazi salute at the presidential inauguration.

I am not suggesting that Democrats break the law and lie and disinform voters the way that Republicans always do. But what I am suggesting is that Democrats swing at slow moving balls that lazily come straight across the plate. They don’t gotta swing at everything, but they dO gotta stop trying to bunt at absolutely everything and anything. In other words, they cannot be so damned afraid of (gasp!) offending conservative voters who aren’t everrrr going to vote for Democrats in significant numbers.

Democrats have already tried this strategy:

Maybe just for shits and giggles, they could try acquiescing to … Idk … the progressive base??

And before anyone goes there, I am not a “traitor” or a closet Republican because I’m demanding that my elected officials (Democrats) work harder for me than for white conservative voters. They work for me, allegedly.

Sometimes, the easiest and best way to help people is to just help them, without making any political calculations. Maybe not always, but damn, having those immigration laws and a higher federal minimum wage codified into law would have helped BIG time. And it was before Trump stacked the court.

Sometimes patience is a virtue. Sometimes it ain’t.

And quite frankly, if the Democrats cannot stop Republican fascists, then what good are they?

Anyway, I really hope that I didn’t come across as hostile or anything. But I am unambiguously Black and I have LGBTQ family members, and non-English speaking relatives, and I am feeling the fierce urgency of, not now, but right now. ✌🏿🫡

[fairyminnie444]

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥.

Reality always bends to your will when you take absolute command over your perception and inner state. Everything already exists, and what you experience is merely a reflection of what you have accepted as truth.

Inspired by Nero Knowledge’s blog, I created a small training to master reality, easily and practical. No more excuses, no more postponements, no more "buts" and "ifs". Now is the time to act as the god of your own reality, let's go:

⊹₊ ⋆ 1. Creating Absolute Inner Reality ⊹₊ ⋆

You must decide that your desired reality is the only truth that exists. No matter what is happening outside, it is not real to you. What is real is only what you have already decided is.

❤︎ Instead of “fighting” the current reality, do not give attention for what doesn’t align.

❤︎ If something seems “contrary,” simply ignore it. (If you can't ignore it, think and know definitively "what's happening here doesn't change the fact that I already have what I want." It's done.)

❤︎ Practice selective blindness: focus only on what reinforces your success.

⊹₊ ⋆ 2. Reality Distortion - Total Control of the Environment ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Train your perception to see only evidence of your desired reality.

❤︎ Manipulate 3D through the absolute certainty that everything is molding itself to you.

❤︎ The focus is on not getting emotionally involved with passing circumstances.

⊹₊ ⋆ 3. Using “I AM” Fluently ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Think of I AM as an absolute truth, not as something you need to affirm all the time.

❤︎ If a thought of scarcity arises, simply correct it without drama:

❤︎ Examples:

“What if no money comes?” → “Money always comes anyway.”

“sp: what if he doesn't call me?” → “he has no choice but to call me.”

“appearance: what if I look in the mirror and don't see this?” → “I am already this the moment I imagine myself like this and decide.”

❤︎ Your I AM needs to be the automatic response to any doubt.

❤︎ Understanding that I AM is the activation of instant reality.

❤︎ Using I AM with conviction to consolidate your identity and generate visible results.

❤︎ Applying the “Reality Leap”: acting and feeling as if you were already in the desired position.

⊹₊ ⋆ 4. Shielding Yourself Against the Fear of Failure ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ When your identity is solid, there is no wrong decision.

❤︎ Even if a path seems “uncertain,” it always leads to your success.

❤︎ Everything you do accelerates your ascent because you are already at the top.

❤︎ Enter a state of mind where there is no possibility of failure. Cause there isn’t.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋅ ˚✮ Some important observations:

Your perception shapes your reality. If you see lack, it is lack. If you see your desire already fulfilled, it is already done.

The training is to strengthen you, not to imprison you. You do not need to fight against your emotions or bad feelings if you have them. Feel them, but do not identify with them. They do not define you or your reality.

The secret is to integrate the “I AM” automatically.

Example of Integration:

❤︎ Are you in the shower? “I AM a (insert your desire here)”

❤︎ Are you eating? “My success is natural.”

❤︎ Going to sleep? “My reality is already done.”

You do not need to feel a great emotional impact with each repetition. The goal is to make this normal.

If any negative thought arises now or during the day, stop immediately and replace it with a powerful “I AM.”

Practical example:

❌ “But what if it takes a while?” → “I AM living proof that everything happens in my time, and my time is NOW.”

❌ “What if I don’t have enough money today?” → “I AM a wealth magnet and I get paid in all forms, from all directions.”

❌ “What if I have to work harder than I want?” → “I AM so valuable that everything comes to me effortlessly.”

Reality does not respond to what you want, but to what you ARE. Be now, without waiting for external proof.

3D reality is just a mirror of what you have already assumed internally. You don’t need to fix the mirror, you need to change what it reflects.

Don’t seek proof, be the proof.

You don’t wait, you DECIDE.

When you hold this stance, reality has no choice but to bend to your will.

[contamination-zone]

What do you think will happen if Fresh needs a host desperately or else he will die and the only one near by is CB?

Would he take them as a host or will he just die?

maybe I wasn't clean in that last ask? [this one] but yeah, the only reason Fresh Didn't eat CB when they first met was that CB has a lot of connections to the void, as in, soaked in it. Actively food poisoning, Fresh couldn't eat him if it tried. It would only kill him faster.

Some yipping about the hows and whys of Fresh and CB's friendship + more general thoughts on how Fresh would be friends with anyone at all. which I think...? I can add to this post? feels congruent. to me.

There are a few criteria I go through if I'm seriously figuring out how to write Fresh being friends with someone. If I can't figure something out for all of these, I have to make excuses and stuff and it really just gets out of hand/starts feeling contrived.

1.) why fresh wouldn't just eat them: - explained by the aforementioned stuff earlier.

2.) what does fresh Gain from a relationship: -Cb is a Little Guy, [popular trope to have big monster and little dude, so Fresh thought it would be good to drag him along [after a bit of convincing by CB]]

3.) why didn't fresh freak out and kill them / distance himself / whatever, once he figured out he found he liked them [I talk further at the end too***]: -CB operates on cartoon logic [part void part just how his au works to me], so there would be... a lot of comedic near-misses as Fresh tried to kill him but failed. [I do have an emotional moment where stuff winds down and Fresh has the opportunity to stick a bone thought cb's back, ala. pacifrisk reference, but is unable to go through with it as well. because. its cute :-)]

so!! yep. Fresh is stuck with that little freak </3

***usually in canon I see this as... characters like pacifrisk, who were very, determined? very willful about being friends. Fresh could not push them away, no matter how hard he tried.

A normal sans like characters I don't think have the will-power to do something like that... to make friends with a murderer. Like how sans reacted to the anomaly, he didn't try to befriend you after a bit, he just tried to get you to give up. Papyrus could make friends with Fresh, believing him able to get better, I just think Sans would be too cynical the vast majority of the time. [I think... that is a bit mean to say, because he felt bad for the anomaly at one point. but in the genocide route, even when he tries to appeal to you [if you really were his friend], its all in service of making you give up. He doesn't really think you could be friends at that point, he's grasping at straws, nearly given up.]

Characters who either gain a Lot by Keeping fresh around them [how nightmare falls into this for me] or characters who care very deeply about and would keep pushing no matter how desperately Fresh tries to distance himself. [color :-)]

[note! I am very nervous about my analysis, so I will not take critique on this. I will block you. sorry!!! fragile state in my life✌️]

[incognitopolls]

question bc i am curious, when you get a set of polls that clearly go together (like the pair of reocurring dream polls from today or the slur porn polls from today), do you go out of your way to make sure they're posted on the same day if they'd get broken up by the queue? Or do you just let them go whenever they want to be posted?

Just a question that popped into my head and curious about your posting methods!! ^^

If I think of it while I'm working on them, I'll shift things to make sure paired polls get posted on the same day– but sometimes I don't think of it and they'll get split up so one is the last poll of the day and the other is the first poll of the following day.

There have been a couple times I've noticed at the last minute and pushed a bonus "part 2" poll out after the last scheduled one of the day, because the last scheduled one was a "part 1," to make sure they stuck together. Just depends on if I'm paying attention to that or not.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Long time no see…

wow it’s been a while…

for starters: i just want to say thank you to @lenaboskow and @mazzystar24

the two of you have stuck by me through the whole rollercoaster that has been my break from tumblr and i don’t think i would have wver come back if it wasn’t for the two of you, so thank you both for being such amazing, talented, beautiful, gorgeous friends to me through it all ❤️

and to those who have sent me kind asks/messages while i’ve been gone, thank you all for the kind words of support and encouragement as well- you are each appreciated so deeply and i can’t thank you enough!

so… a few things have happened while I’ve been gone

the first of which being my 22nd birthday in october which thankfully was spent with AC and a hot shower after having been without power for 12 days in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene; despite the inconvenience of having no power or water in those 12 days, i was still immensely lucky to have been safe and received no damage to my home unlike countless others who unfortunately are still recovering from the storm.

the other major-ish life update from my time away:

i adopted a puppy!!!

in early october (in fact, while we were still without power), I adopted this precious little girl (called ellie) from my local humane society.

she was around 3 months old when i adopted her, and in the beginning of January, she turned 6 months.

she has been a massive help in managing my anxiety and depression, keeping me company and giving me something to love and care for, and in the few months i have had her, she’s already wrapped me around her paw

i could not have asked for a better fur baby than her ❤️ she is probably the best thing that happened to me in 2024, and I cannot wait to see all the adventures life takes her on.

In other news; I’m back!

I had made the decision a few months ago to step away from tumblr as the landscape leading up to the s8 premiere of 9-1-1 was immensely difficult and taxing on my mental health, and I realized that it wasnt healthy to feel the way I so strongly did about the show or the fandom, and I needed to take a step back, alter the way i approached the show and fandom, and refocus on other things.

one of those things was refocusing on my job. shortly before i took a break, i had started a new job and was still very much in the training phase when i made the decision to take a break from tumblr. since then, i have been focusing on establishing myself as a reliable hardworking employee at my job, and i’ve also been focusing on the future;

i currently plan to take a flight attendant training course to become certified, and eventually find work with an airline.

because of this, 9-1-1 and the fandom have taken a back seat to more important things.

that being said, i still watched the entirety of 8a (not live, but a few days after airing once i had the chance to grill sarah and addie about what happened each episode- i have a lot of opinions on how things have gone and seem to be going but now is not the time nor place for that). i have still posted the occasional fic on ao3, and i am still working on my various wips as i am able to

i eventually realized how much i truly did miss being a part of the fandom, and have made the choice to come back, but going forward, i’m going to be doing things differently:

1. i will not be engaging in speculation or anything of that nature about future episodes- all it does is give me anxiety that manifests through frustration and i don’t want to continue feeding into that

2. i am going go be returning to my original philosophy of “the block and delete buttons are my friends.” in the last few weeks before my break, i found myself engaging more and more with toxic fans rather than just blocking them or deleting their replies to my posts- that won’t be happening anymore: if you come on my page being toxic or rude, you will be blocked and ignored because i do not have time for that shit

3. i want to branch out to other fandoms- this will remain a 9-1-1 blog first and foremost, and the majority of what i post will be related to 9-1-1, but i will also occasionally make posts about other fandoms/media that i have an interest in

4. most of what i post will either be fic related, headcanon related, or memes. as stated above, i do not have a healthy relationship with spec, and therefore i am not going to foster that by actively involving myself in it.

all that said, i’m really gald to be back, and i’m looking forward to being involved again! i hope everyone who stuck to the end of this long ass re-introduction post is having a wonderful morning, afternoon, or evening wherever you are in the world <3

[izumi-fanclub]

A3! Translation: Chikage SSR Card “Rouge Rose of Love” [Valentine’s Day Gossip]

How will Chikage deal with Valentine's Day this year? He receives a blessing and a curse of course.

Part 1

Chikage

Never thought I’d share lunch with Chigasaki.

Itaru

I mean, it’s just the pizza place if we’re looking at the big picture, that’s the only common link.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thank you for waiting, here’s your parmesan and diavola.

Chikage

Thanks, diavola’s finally here.

Itaru

I’m surprised, I half expected it to look ridiculously red like some sort of challenge menu.

Chikage

Chigasaki-san, maybe you’re just not enough of a junkie?

Itaru

Ahaha, you’d be wrong.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Excuse me for interrupting your meal, but we’re passing out our new Chocolate Chunk pizza, would you like to sample them out?

Itaru

Hehh, looks good. Thanks for the food.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thanks for your feedback! How about you, sir?

Chikage

Sorry but I’ll have to pass, my doctor told me to avoid sweets.

Pizza Shop Clerk

I see, I apologize. Please continue enjoying your meal.

Itaru

…Is that your new year’s excuse now?

Chikage

Whatever do you mean?

Itaru

It’s about to be Valentine’s soon.

Chikage

…Ahh, so that explains the chocolate on the new menu.

Itaru

That look on you, it definitely went over your head.

Chikage

Because I’m not interested.

Itaru

Senpai you might not be, but the female employees definitely are. I overheard them talking about giving out some love chocolate to a certain senior.

There used to be rumors of you having a fiancée, but they pretty much lost their status effect now.

You’ve gotten some before here and there too.

Chikage

Well, they say gossip stays around for about 75 days or so, someone out there probably thinks I’ve been married off silently.

Who am I to deny it, even.

Itaru

Come to think of it, you’re gonna go shopping with director-san today. Wouldn’t that be the perfect chance to get down on your knee?

Chikage

Kneeling in front of director-san in public would be too unfair to her.

…In any case, I feel guilty about pulling director-san into this mess, so I’ll try and think of something else.

Izumi

Wow, the star anises really have such a pretty shape to them!

Chikage

By the way, Tsuzuru said he’s gonna make fried rice tomorrow, buying this would make it more authentic, right?

Izumi

Hmm, that’s true but then again… they look so beautiful that it feels like such a waste.

Chikage

Then, how about we buy some cinnamon sticks and make some mulled wine?

Izumi

Sounds like a plan! Let’s go with that!

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

——Sorry to keep you waiting.

Regarding the spice you ordered, I checked and it seems like it’s gonna be delayed due to some logistics issues…

I apologize for not informing you in advance.

Chikage

No worries, so when can we expect to receive it?

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I think you can get it in around 4 days.

Chikage

Four days from now… I have a meeting on that day, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it before closing time.

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I’m sincerely terribly sorry…!

Chikage

It’s fine, it’s not like we’re in a hurry. I’ll come by again on the weekend.

Izumi

Oh, well in that case, should I get it in your stead?

Chikage

You okay with that?

Izumi

Yup, I happen to have some errands nearby that day.

Chikage

Then please be my guest.

Izumi

Mhm, leave it to me!

Chikage

…Sorry, thank you as always.

Izumi

What’s wrong? You’re suddenly all serious…

Chikage

Nothing, just a lot on my mind.

Part 2

Tsumugi

…Whew, this mulled wine really hits the spot, it’s got some nice spices on it.

Citron

Gets me feeling all warm~

Azuma

The star anise adds a beautiful touch to it too.

Chikage

Director-san said the same thing too, so my suggestion on using it for fried rice was a no-go.

Azuma

Fufu, that makes sense. That’s definitely like her.

So, where’s the director at?

Chikage

Looks like the sleep got to her. To think she was the one who was looking forward to it the most.

Itaru

Sleeping this early is gonna mess up her sleep hygiene.

Azuma

Yeah, I received some chocolate that goes well with the alcohol, I wanted the director to try them out too.

Sakyo

You’ve got that pricey stuff on you again.

Banri

In a few days the place’s gonna get flooded with chocolate from everyone, so director-chan still got a chance to eat some.

Tsumugi

You’re right, Valentine’s is just around the corner.

Itaru

In other words, the overpowered senpai is gonna have his weakness revealed soon.

Chikage

This is a serious matter though.

Itaru

Just call it schadenfreude I guess.

Banri

Ain’t that old news?

Tasuku

So do you have any counter-measures in mind already?

Chikage

Nothing yet unfortunately.

Itaru

At lunch you turned down that chocolate pizza talking about some “My doctor told me not to eat it.” excuse.

Chikage

If I use that excuse at work, it’ll stir up a different kind of trouble.

Tsumugi

Hmm, then again it’s hard to come up with a reason to turn them down especially when it’s done out of the goodwill of the giver.

Chikage

But this year I got a full day’s worth of meetings scheduled so I think I can manage.

Banri

Oh, well that’s a relief.

Citron

It is no relief! Just a temporary solution! That will not do! The same troubles will appear again next year!

Itaru

…He’s being sensible for once.

Chikage

I forgot about it this year and couldn’t do anything so far, but next year I’ll be on a business trip.

Citron

No! That is still a temporary solution!

Banri

Feels like the issue’s just growing.

Citron

That is why we should practice rejection together!

Chikage

Practice rejection?

Azuma

Fufu, well isn’t this interesting.

Tasuku

That’s to be expected, honestly.

Itaru

…I’m not surprised anymore at this point, but still, why me?

Citron

But of course! This is a family matter for everyone!

Chikage

Sorry, Chigasaki.

Itaru

Nah, you don’t sound sorry at all. …Sigh, it’s a relief I got up and finished an event early.

Chikage

So Citron, we went all the way out in Veludo way, care to explain why that is?

Itaru

Yeah, you can practice rejection at the dorms.

Citron

That much is obvious. It is because we are actors! This is the only place to practice!

Chikage

That’s…

Itaru

Do you mean…

Citron

Frankly, a rejection etude! Yes!

Passerby A

Oh, isn’t that spring troupe?

Passerby B

It is! Think they’re up to doing a street act?

Chikage & Itaru

…

Itaru

…I’m not sure if I’m up for this.

Chikage

Let’s just get this over with.

Chikage & Itaru

…

Passerby A

…He’s looking at his phone, is he waiting for a notif?

Passerby B Maybe he’s checking the time.

Chikage

“Are you here to meet someone too?”

Itaru

“Eh?” Chikage

“I mean, isn't it Valentine's day?”

Itaru

“Yeah that’s true, some lady hit me up and told me to meet her here around 1pm.”

Chikage

“What a coincidence, I’m here for the same reason.”

“Whenever I get called out like this on Valentine’s Day, I get excited like some highschooler wondering what it’s for.”

Itaru

“Yeah, I get you. Me too.”

“Forgive me for prying but… have you decided on an answer yet?”

Chikage

“Hmm, I was thinking of turning down——”

Itaru

“Ehh, you too?”

Chikage

“So you’re in the same boat?”

Citron

“——Sorry, I was late!” Chikage & Itaru

“No, it’s fine——”

Chikage

“Ehh…”

Itaru

“Eh?”

Citron

“Eeh!? Chikage and Itaru, why are you both here…”

“...No way, silly me! I accidentally sent the message to both of you!”

Chikage & Itaru

“Huh…?”

Passerby A

… So basically, one of them’s the genuine one and the other is a backup?

Passerby B

Woah…

Chikage

“Um, Itaru-san, do you have a second?”

Itaru

“Yeah, of course. I was meaning to talk to you too.”

Chikage

“You can reject first.”

Itaru

“Eh, no way, that’d make me seem like the backup. You should be the first to actually say no.”

Chikage

“That’s gonna be a different story.”

Kanazuka

So this is Veludo Way. It’s my first time here, but there sure are a lot of people… Huh? Seems like there’s a crowd over there.

Chikage

“——I’m not giving up, even if I was just the second option, I can’t let it end like this!” Kanazuka

!? Is that Utsuki-san and Chigasaki-san from the company…!? This is unbelievable…!

Part 3

Chikage

Thanks for your hard work throughout the meeting.

Employee A

Great job as well. Ah, since it’s Valentine’s Day, I prepared some chocolate.

Employee B

This calls for tea time, then. I’ll go make some coffee. You drink coffee too, right, Utsuki-san?

Chikage

I——.

Employee A

Oops, I think Utsuki-san will get some from his girlfriend later.

Yeah, that’s right. Sorry about that, Utsuki-san.

Chikage

…? No it’s okay.

Then, I’ll take my leave.

Chikage

(If I head over there now, I think I can make it just in time for closing time. I wonder if I should contact director-san about how the spices are.)

Itaru

——Hey, senpai. You got a minute?

Chikage

Chigasaki?

Chikage

Is it something urgent? If it’s not, just tell me about it at home.

Itaru

Looks like the gossip hasn’t reached you yet.

Chikage

Gossip?

Itaru

Apparently, even though your fiancée is dating me now, there’s a rumor going around that you haven’t given up on her completely…

Chikage

…Hah?

Itaru

A co-worker saw that previous street act we did and mistook it for a fight between you and me.

Chikage

Street act…

You surely don’t mean the one where Citron pulled a bootcamp over dealing with “rejection”, right?

Itaru

That’s right, after all it wasn’t rehearsed at all and we ended up just going with the flow of Citron’s act.

Chikage

…So that explains it, is that why I felt a weird vibe during the meeting earlier?

Itaru

We’re actors, that’s understood by regulars of Veludo Way, but the co-worker that happened to witness it was someone unfamiliar with the whole concept.

Then the gossip mill jumped on the bandwagon and said stuff like “Maybe there’s some truth beneath the surface of that act.”

Chikage

Talk about a pain…

Itaru

You said it.

Chikage

(I kinda took advantage of that in the past, so I don’t really have the right to complain.)

Chikage

… Speaking of, what happened to the rumor that Chigasaki’s sister is my fiancée?

Itaru

I don’t know, I think they just assumed you’ve broken up.

Then, what do we do? Looks like senpai’s history with love is getting pretty complicated.

Chikage

Whatever, it’ll probably just die down soon anyway so I won’t do anything about it, I’ll just head home.

Besides, hanging around you like this might be counterproductive.

Itaru

True that. I’ll wrap up my overtime work and head home early too.

Chikage

(...Not sure if it’s the rumor’s effect or I’m just being overly conscious of it, but I didn’t get any chocolate at all.)

(...It could be better, but I guess it still works out in the end, that rumor will die down soon, and I’m sure the director——)

Izumi

Ah, Chikage-san!

Chikage

Director-san?

Izumi

I got to the store early and had some time so I thought of bringing it to you directly.

Chikage

That’s right, I was just thinking of telling you to meet there since I could make it before closing time, but…

I realized I completely forgot to do it.

Izumi

Really now? That’s pretty rare for you, Chikage-san.

Chikage

A bit of an unexpected issue came up.

Izumi

Good on you for dealing with it.

Chikage

… Director-san, are you in a good mood?

Izumi

Fufu, I just found something good, is all. Ah right, the spices, here you go.

Chikage

Thanks. You’re a huge help.

(... There’s a ribbon on it, is this part of the service?)

(From an outsider’s perspective, they’ll probably assume I’m receiving Valentine’s chocolate out of context.)

(Not sure if the director noticed, but I feel the gaze of people from the company around for a while now.)

Izumi

What’s up?

Chikage

Nothing, it’s just that it feels like a gift when it’s ribboned like this.

Izumi

It is… kind of a present.

Chikage

Present?

(There’s something else aside from the spices I asked her to pick up.)

Chikage

…Does this bottle also have spice?

[ Option 1: Open and see for yourself ] Izumi Open it and check it out. Chikage Right here? Izumi Is it not good here? Chikage That’s not the issue but… well I’ll just open it.

[ Option 2: It’s nothing suspicious ] Izumi Don’t worry, it’s not fishy or anything. Chikage Should I be concerned? Izumi No, I mean it! It really is just a gift. Chikage Well, as long as it’s director-san, I’ll believe it.

Chikage

…Chocolate?

Izumi

Yup, they’re spice seeds coated in chocolate, they were pretty good when I tried them out at the store!

I bought it thinking maybe Chikage-san could enjoy it too, it’s Valentine’s Day after all.

Chikage

…

Izumi

Oh, don’t worry about returning the favor, a tasty curry made with the spices would just be fine.

Chikage

(I didn’t mean to drag you into this again… I’m sure the gossip’s gonna get updated tomorrow.)

…It’s not my fault anymore, it’s the director’s.

Izumi

Hm?

Story Clear!

[companionjones]

Days, Weeks, Months, Years (9/10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Fandoms: MCU, Marvel

Warnings: Coma, Cursing, Implied almost self harm

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

*******

In the days you were gone, I mean physically there but mentally gone, the compound was at a standstill.

The only person who didn't understand it all was Valentina. She had expected to be interrogated and grilled. Maybe even tortured or maimed by Bucky or someone, but she was just locked in a room and fed three times a day. It was like she was already in prison. Which didn't make sense to her because no one knew why she did it.

****

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky never left. He slept with his head on your bed and his hand holding yours. Sometimes, he was convinced to eat, but after a certain point, it was to keep himself from passing out during the day.

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky was also given some time alone with you. When it was just you and him, Bucky would pray like he never had before, which he hadn't, not since the 40s, anyway. Bucky would talk to you, too.

"...Everyone...Everyone always talks to people when they're in your position. But...I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, doll...Not just for not being able to s-save you, but for...for not being able to be with you...Really with you. Like you deserve.

"When you first got here, I knew I was in trouble. You were everything. Smart, beautiful, badass, sexy; I barely knew what to do with myself around you. So, I did what I always do. I shut down completely, and I waited for you to go away.

"But you never did. Wherever I went, you were always there at my side. At first, I found it annoying because I could never be at ease around you, but soon, that all went away. Soon, you were you and I was me and there was nothing that could keep us apart. And...that scared me.

"Then, that first night happened. We were alone, watching that cheesy movie you love, and I...I couldn't help myself. God, that night was perfect. You were perfect. I mean, you're always perfect--But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Despite how amazing everything was that night, I don't remember being more scared than that morning after--excluding the past few days, of course.

"I woke up that morning, I looked at you, you were still asleep, and all I could think about was fucking this up--fucking you up.

"God, I am such an idiot. I preach about how much I don't want to hurt you, yet that's what I've been doing all this time. God, why can't I just get my shit together--" Bucky's hands were shaking as he flexed them in front of his face. It looked like he was going to hit something, maybe himself.

"Stop." Your voice, barely audible, told him. You gently touched his hand that was closest to you, your weak a hand a stark contrast to his strong one.

Bucky gasped when he heard your voice and felt you touch him. "Y/n?" He wondered if you were really there.

He saw your eyes barely open to look at him.

"Hey," he softly greeted, took a big breath, then repeated, even softer, "Hey." Bucky adjusted himself accordingly to get closer to you.

The smallest of smiles appeared on your face. "Missed you."

Bucky let you take his face into your hand. He whispered, "Missed you, too."

*******

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

*******

Tag List: @sidraaaaaaaaa // @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog // @mayusenpai666 // @onceithough // @greatenthusiasttidalwave // @shadowzena43 // @ampersam // @sebastians-love // @cjand10 // @silentwhisper666 // @superaveng // @vicmc624 // @ltsaradharkness

[dcdreamblog]

Hey there. I recently moved to Gotham for job related reasons. Thought I had a pretty good handle on the whole hero and villain thing down here, the Bats and their various enemies are the only ones anyone seems to talk about anyways.

So imagine my surprise when one day I'm driving back home and something that I can only describe as some kind of yellow and red demon lands right on top of my car hood before getting back up and leaping into the sky. look up and see what I think were some other ugly monsters or something firing down some magic stuff at em.

Got back home as quick as I could after that, asked a few guys I know at work what the hell it was about but they got nothing, but one of em pointed me to your blog. So Historian, you happen to know anything about yellow and red demons in Gotham?

First off you should probably contact your insurance about the car. Unlike the jokes made by people who don't live in superhero cities, or the fearmongering of idiots, insurance DOES cover "acts of superhero" especially if you live in Gotham. If they give you a hard time, reach out to the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation. Bruce Wayne LOVES thumbing his nose at oligarchs in these sorts of situations. As for the demon you saw, you are VERY lucky you only got a glancing blow from whatever the hell Etrigan got wrapped up in this week.

(A CCTV image showing Etrigan bursting forth from a burning warehouse)

Now you'll have to forgive me I only took a few occult related classes in college for my degree and my knowledge of the Arthurian Period is limited to how it intersects with my specialties but the basic rundown is this. Etrigan is a demon. Like from Hell (or some version of the Christian vision of same, how you feel like dealing with this information is down to your personal theology). He's on the higher rank of mid class demon from what I know, not any kind of ruler, lord or arch but a caste of warriors known as "Rhymers" (due to their distinct habit of every statement they utter having to be rhymed). (All of the information below has been run past my occult colleagues, I have those now, to make sure I am not summoning anything or offending anyone who would want to turn my intestines into snakes) Etrigan was something of a Monkey King figure, born as first son to the Arch-Demon Belial and the Serpent Queen Ran Va Daath he was too powerful to control even for Hell's bureaucracy and so he was placed under the control of the mortal wizard Merlin (who is his younger brother, long story, go read a grimoire). It was during the Fall of Camelot that Etrigan was bonded to the dishonored knight Jason Blood, I actually already did a dive on that some weeks back. Blood and Etrigan have been stuck together for the following millennia, Etrigan's instincts as a born engine of destruction kept in check by Jason Blood's honorable character meaning that most often the Demon has been set against creatures of his own domain in defense of mankind. Blood currently works as an Occultist in Gotham though he's very much a jet setter and can be spotted just about anywhere in the world there's mystery afoot. The advice I would give is DO NOT seek out any more information about this in person. If ANYTHING was left on your car (blood, fangs, scales, scraps of cloth) that you KNOW come from Etrigan or the other demon or can't otherwise identify. I have been tasked with giving you some instructions by my said occult colleagues. 1. Gather up as much of the mass of the object as you can.

2. Burn it, if you are religious, pray while you burn it. In fact, praying during every step of this disposal process couldn't hurt.

3. Gather up the ashes, wrap them in a burlap sack tied off with a leather cord (yes the material is important).

4. Place (DO NOT THROW) the bag beneath the current of cold, running water.

5. Wait for any bubbles or any motion within the bag to stop, anything that's drowning in there is not your responsibility.

6. Gently release the bag and do not take your eyes off it until it either hits the bottom or vanishes from sight.

7. Scoop up the water in a metal container with your RIGHT hand

8. Douse the spot you picked up the material from with the water. Do not touch, sit on or otherwise interact with the spot until the water has naturally dried.

9. If at ANY POINT these processes do not go as planned. If you notice signs of your car or home being rearranged without your knowledge. Or otherwise sense anything amiss, contact a licensed occultist from www.Shadowpact.org and follow any further instructions TO. THE. LETTER

10. Make a mental note that you do NOT fuck around with magic. Magic is NOT a joke or a scam. And the people who deal with magic are VERY well educated in how not to get themselves killed. YOU ARE NOT.

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Well, well, well, dissecting time just so I can remind Maggie that I am in her walls (thanks you've passed your illness onto me)

1. "Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado."

A) Even at home, she's dreaming/ thinking about the stars (Hollywood stars)

2. "It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone."

A) Don't worry baby girl, Aegon is gonna make you finish in front of him and I'll you'll love it

3. Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

A) we all are Mason, shut up

4. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

A) well I didn't like that foreshadowing

B) she's gonna get close to Aegon and we know he's a messed up man 😭

C) I'll she'll still love him though

5. “And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies."

A) Or when Aegon dies...

B) Maggie, are you in my walls? This is my family 😭

6. “Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless."

A) mother? What you doing here, loca?

B) how Sunshine is so sunny, idk. I guess you have to have rain to appreciate the sun

C) no wonder she think she needs plastic surgery- not just for Hollywood but she probably feels like she needs to live up to her parents expectations somehow (cuz she feels like she is disappointing them with her choice of job?)

7. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A) Sunshines reminder that social media is fake lmao

B) but this is a mood- it gives crying whilst doing a thumbs up picture 😭👍🤳

Also those dogs? I love dogs but these ones are scary! The family and the dogs seem to hate her?! My God. Are they picking up on the family hostility to her?

If they don't shape up, unlike the bats- I won't mind if Jace steps on one of these.. (jk)

8. A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

A) Aegon ever heard of playing it cool?

B) damn he's down bad

9. You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you."

A) oh an old man, imagine if he meant Aegon-

B) HE DID! Mf ain't old

C) I also squealed like she did when I recognised the shoes 🥰

10. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

A) and if I say 👀

B) foreshadowing...

C) also hello Simon Bassett from Bridgerton?

11. “Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

A) for now Aegon...

B) He will show her the different flavours

C) also could symbolise that she is kinda naive and then as the story progresses- she's not so sweet anymore 😀

13. “It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

A) said every man ever 😉😂

B) ooh will she be in season 56, episode 28?

14. “Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—..... that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

A) did he have to do something to make people (or him) like himself more?

B) omg did his dad make or encourage his siblings/ family to change to become more famous, to carry on his legacy in Hollywood? Did Aemond try and change himself and now he's took a step back into scriptwriting cuz atleast then he can control his own story?

C) she's gonna lose or nearly lose her humanity in this industry, I can see it. It's gonna break her down and then Aegon and her have feel better sex..

15. “Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

A).... need I say more

16. “The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

A) you're killing me

B) she's gonna like riding this horse 😭 (I'll let myself out)

17. His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

A) either becca is crazy

B) or his family are and they'll update becca

C) or both. Like I said before- maybe they set him up wirh becca to calm him down, to make him (the targaryens) look good in the papers

18. “I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

A) a possible other nickname?

B) all her nicknames are cute and sunny, like her until this industry snuffs it out 😀

19. Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

A) This whole thing felt like a summary for the story

B) at first she's whisked away in a world of Hollywood: glitter and glammer. She's "full of blind naive surety"..

C) Then it's she's less so but she still tries to be optimistic? As she realises this is not what she signed up for

D) husband is dead, Aegon is dead? Then she's full of rage

E) under artificial light? The Hollywood spotlight..

F) she starts to give them her body (plastic surgery), her mind (she starts to doubt and panic in fame) and then her soul (Hollywood kills her optimism and dream)

Also- Are the eyeshadows representing things?

A) In the first chapter she had shimmery, pink, warm brown eyeshadow (showing that she is warm, positive and sparkling with a dream, it's all new).

B) when she's with Mason, it's sparkly black. Like she's not 100% with him but that's okay because she still has her dream that she's gonna be able to be an actress and subconsciously be with someone better...

C) in the ice cream shop, she has bright pink- so bright in optimism still and pink meaning flirtatious feelings for Aegon?

Idk, all this is my crazy mind and I love whatever you come out with!

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week 😅 I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The Bodyguard part 2

WC: 2.5k

TW: age gap; angst; mentions of weapons; FLUFF; more angst; unrequited feelings; mentions of virginity

.

.

*1 week later*

I sleep past Pilates, waking up feeling down on my 25th birthday. When I walk into the kitchen, Jake is at the breakfast table with a chess board sitting in front of him. “What’s this?” Jake’s green eyes pierce mine, “Happy birthday, Ms. Y/l/n.” My eyes water and I turn to make my coffee, “You play?” “No ma’am, you’ll have to teach me.” “Only if you never call me ma’am again. Already feeling old today.” He smirks, “Noted.” I sit down across from him, explaining the rules. Each game he gets better. By the 6th game, he actually beats me. There’s a knock at the door and Jake runs over, looking through the peephole. His body stiffens, he opens the door and carries in huge vase filled with roses. He sets it down and I read the card.

Happy birthday, darling.

I’m sorry I’m not there to celebrate with you.

Thinking about you.

xx,

Glen

I smile and set the card down. Yet I notice that there is no warmth spreading through me. Not like how it does when Jake is near me. Jake rolls his eyes, “Seems a bit excessive.” I sigh, “Yeah. It’s what my Dad does too. Did you see what he sent me?” He shakes his head and I walk over to the kitchen. Pulling out a large Tiffany’s box, I show him the diamond necklace and earrings. The necklace is a round, solitaire diamond on a dainty chain and the earrings match. Jake’s eyebrows raise, “Wow.” I close up the box and set it next to the roses, “I should be happy, right?” He stands beside me, staring at the gifts, “Are you?” Tears fill my eyes, “No. Neither of them called… or even sent a text.” In a completely out of character moment, Jake’s hand rests in my shoulder. A comfortable silence surrounds us as a fluttering feeling touches my heart. Butterflies? Butterflies from Jake? Butterflies that I have never felt before? The warmth pools in my stomach again and a tear falls down my cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb, “Ms. Y/l/n, I have another surprise for you.” Jake grabs my hand and leads me into the living room. There’s candy, popcorn, and a copy of the Sound of Music on the coffee table. The fluttering feeling touches my heart again as I sit beside him on the couch, “You did this?” He nods and pops the DVD in. I chuckle, “Your age is showing. You could’ve just rented it on my Amazon Prime.” “Ms. Y/l/n, you can’t talk about my age like that anymore. You’re getting up there now, too.” I playfully gasp, “How could you?” He smiles, a real smile, and I take a moment to appreciate it. He nudges me, “Pay attention, the movie is starting.”

.

Right around 16 going on 17 I doze off. While I am half asleep, I swear Jake is playing with my hair. The credits wake me up and Jake smiles, “You missed it, they escaped in the nick of time.” My voice is groggy, “I’m sorry, l didn’t mean to…” He cuts me off, “It’s okay. I’m gonna start making dinner.” The feeling threatens to touch my heart again, “You’re making dinner?” He nods and heads to the kitchen. I sit at the counter, watching him cook. Jake moves swiftly, with extreme precision. He sets a plate in front of me, steak, broccoli, and mashed potatoes. “Thank you, Mr. Seresin. You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” He shrugs, “I couldn’t have you being sad on your birthday.” I smile and take a bite of the steak, “I’m happy now. This steak is amazing, by the way.” Jake smiles again and it takes my breath away. I wonder if he knows how handsome he is. How when he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way. Once we finish, I head up to change into my pjs. This time a silk set that is black. When I come down, I turn on some trashy reality tv show. He sits beside me, leaving more room than he did before. My phone rings and it is Glen. Jake’s jaw twitches as I answer. “Hi! … No, don’t worry. … Yes I did! Thank you. … It was a really nice day actually. … Oh, okay. … Have fun. See you soon.” Jake’s body is tense, “How is pretty boy?” “He’s good. Going to some after party.” His eyebrow raises, “How do you feel about that?” I shrug, “We technically aren’t … anything. So even if I was jealous, I wouldn’t have any right to be.” Jake smirks, “Okay, sure.” I roll my eyes, “Let me guess, you’re the jealous type?” His eyes meet mine, “I do not share what is mine.” The heat spreads from my stomach all the way to my cheeks, “Does your girlfriend mind that?” He notices my blush and chuckles, “She doesn’t exist. Not a big dating guy.” I look down at my hands, “Me either. Glen is the first guy who has ever really shown interest in me.” His eyebrows raise, “I highly doubt that.” “No one really wants the trouble of dating the President’s daughter.” I head into the kitchen to make tea.

.

While drinking my tea in my room, I scroll Instagram. Glen is tagged in a million photos of an after party. Models and actresses all around him. He isn’t dancing with them or kissing them, but for some reason it still hurts. I’m just… me. Maybe that’s why it’s never gone further between us, he just knows that I won’t know what I am doing. Sobs escape my mouth, the loneliness of this life hitting me especially hard. There’s a knock on the door, “Ms. Y/l/n, are you okay?” I don’t respond, hoping he’ll leave. Instead, he walks right in. “What’s wrong?” Jake glances at my phone, seeing the photos. He sighs, “Hey, it’s probably nothing.” I shake my head, “You don’t get it. You don’t understand how isolated I have been my whole life! I’m not like those girls and he knows it. That’s probably why he won’t even kiss me!” “Ms. Y/l/n, you are more beautiful than those women. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” I stare at my phone and sigh, “It’s not that. I’ve never been with a man before… in that way. So a guy like him will never want me.” I see something in his eyes that I wasn’t expecting after that admission, understanding. His large hand rubs my back, “If he doesn’t want you then he is an absolute idiot.” We stay like this for a moment, him comforting me until I calm down. I look up at him, “Wait, I thought we weren’t friends.” He sighs, “Okay, I was wrong. You’re not nearly as insufferable as I thought you would be.” “Thank you. You are difficult, but you can also be very kind.”

.

.

*1 week later*

There’s a knock on the door and Jake walks over. He sighs, opening it up. “Hey! Is Y/n home?” I walk over, “Glen! You’re back!” He wraps me in a hug, “I missed you so much.” I lead him into the kitchen for coffee, “Really?” He smiles, “Of course, darling. I was thinking about you the whole time.” A smile spreads across my face as I take a sip of coffee. My brain wanders, thinking about while Glen was gone. I thought about him some, but Jake took up way more space in my mind. Guilt washes over me. “Earth to Y/n? You there?” “Sorry. Got lost in my head.” Glen brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, “The book?” I nod, noticing that there isn’t any fluttering or heat. Then, cursing myself for not feeling it. He checks his watch, “Darling, I have a meeting in half an hour. Can we schedule dinner sometime soon?” “Yeah, that would be great.” His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips. Glen leans in, kissing me gently. It is soft. Sweet. And completely underwhelming. There was no spark. Or excitement. When he pulls back I smile, “See you soon, Glen.” His grin spreads wide, “See ya, darling.” Jake walks him out.

.

I write the rest of the day and Jake has completely avoided me. I sit across from him while we eat dinner. “Why are you not looking at me?” He looks up from his plate, “I don’t know what you mean.” “Well lately we’ve been friendly, but it seems a cold front has come through.” Jake rolls his eyes. I huff, “Really? Just tell me what’s going on.” He raises an eyebrow, “You don’t seem very giddy for a girl that just got kissed by a movie star.” I shuffle food around on my plate, “Shut up.” He chuckles, “Oh so now you don’t want to talk. What, is he a bad kisser?” I stare at my plate, “It just wasn’t what I was expecting.” “And what was it you were expecting?” My eyes meet his, “A spark. Butterflies. Anything.” “So, none of the above?” I shake my head and he laughs. “Don’t laugh at me!” He stops and his face looks serious, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because pretty boy walked out of here like a lovestruck little girl.” Guilt washes over me. He shrugs, “Don’t feel bad. He doesn’t deserve you anyways.” I cover my face with my hands, “I am going to die alone.” Jake sets his dishes in the sink and pats my back, “Come on. Let’s watch one of your shitty shows.” We sit down on the couch and I turn on the tv. Part way in to an episode, my phone rings. It’s Glen. I let it go to voicemail. Jake clears his throat, “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “A few months ago, you were head over heels for this guy. What changed it? Because it has to be more than just the kiss.” I think for a minute. “I started to notice things. His attention always being somewhere else. Gifts instead of quality time. And I never felt heat when I was around him.” He raises an eyebrow, “Have you felt ‘heat’ with anyone before?” Looking down at my hands, I blush, “Yes.” Jake’s jaw twitches, “Then why haven’t you gone out with that guy?” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “He doesn’t feel the same way.” He furrows his brow, “Have you asked him if he does?” “No but I can tell, okay? I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Mr. Seresin.” He mutters goodnight as I walk up the stairs. I lay awake in my bed, thinking about Jake.

.

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*1 month later*

I wake up covered in sweat. The nightmares have been happening for years, but this one really spooked me. I can’t fall back asleep, so I head downstairs to make tea. Jake runs downstairs in his pajama pants and no shirt, gun by his side. My jaw almost drops to the floor. “Calm down G.I. Joe, it’s just me.” “It’s 2 am! Are you okay?” I take my tea over to the couch, “Yeah, just a bad dream.” He frowns, “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?” I sigh, “No, just couldn’t fall back asleep.” He joins me on the couch, “Want to talk about it?” I shake my head. We sit in silence and my phone rings. Glen. Probably out drinking with friends. “What are you gonna do about pretty boy?” I rub my forehead, “I don’t know.” “What are you going to do about mystery man?” “I don’t know, okay!” He throws his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I’m just kidding. I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just frustrated.” Jake shrugs, “Then just tell the guy. The worst thing that could happen is he says no.” I bury my face in my hands and he rubs my back. I stiffen, “Please don’t touch me right now.” Jake pulls his hand back, looking hurt. Then the realization hits him. “Oh, Ms. Y/l/n are you talking about..” I don’t hear the rest because I run upstairs, shutting myself in my room. Jake follows me upstairs, knocking on my door. “Go away!” “Not until you talk to me.” I wipe my eyes and walk over to the door, opening it a crack. Jake’s face falls when he sees the streaks of tears. He pushes the door open, bringing my head to his chest. I breathe in his cologne. The heat of his body radiates into mine. His heart is beating fast, the complete opposite of that night in the alley. “Ms. Y/l/n, you are amazing. I mean that. But…” “But you don’t feel the same.” His green eyes meet mine with a look of seriousness, “But you’re my client. My job is to protect you. Any distraction puts you at risk and I can’t have that happen.” I step away, “I understand. Goodnight, Mr. Seresin.” He starts to speak but stops himself, walking out of the room. I stare at the ceiling, wishing I could disappear.

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.

*1 week later*

I have been avoiding Jake at all costs. Keeping our conversations short and only about security. I can see that it hurts him, which kills me. When Dad calls, he keeps asking what’s wrong but I don’t know what to say. Oh sorry Dad, I have the hots for my bodyguard? He was annoying at first but he’s actually kind and sweet and strong and looks so damn good shirtless. Yeah, can’t say that. Glen calls, inviting me over for a movie. I head downstairs, “Mr. Seresin? We are leaving in an hour.” He comes out of the office, “Where are we going?” “Glen’s house. He’s invited me over for a movie night.” That jaw muscle twitches like always and he mumbles, “But you don’t even like him.” “What?” Jake moves closer, clearing the distance between us in seconds. With his face inches from mine he repeats himself, “You don’t like him, so why are we going there.” I look at my shoes, avoiding his eyes, “Just be ready in an hour. You’ll be dropping me off. He has security at his home.” I turn and Jake’s hand closes around my wrist, “Like hell I will.” I whip around, “I’m your client, remember?” The familiar heat starts to spread through my stomach. Jake’s eyes stare into me, dark and stormy. His voice is low, “You are not going over there because he does not deserve you. If you want to watch a movie, rent one on your Amazon Prime.” “You’re ridiculous! You don’t want me, unless you suddenly forgot about the other night. So, I am going to spend the night with Glen.” Jake leans in and a flutter flies across my chest. He notices my blush and smirks, “Oh, I want you. I’ve wanted you since the day we met. But once I have you, I won’t be able to let go.”

[imsorrythatimweird101-blog]

Lessons I learned throughout 5 years of shifter and LOA

I read books of Bob Monroe and Neville Goddard. Watch Nero knowledge and Reya Singh for hours and read the CIA documents. Here's the consistent key point

1. Feeling > Words

The mistakes that people keep doing is not feeling when saying affirmation. Even with "I AM". No feeling, no belief, no action, no change. One can argue no feeling and just repeat works. Which yes, can be, if you BELIEVE that methods works. Even without belief. You slowly believe it to be true. Which believe = feelings. Bob Monroe, ultimate Journey. a book after he's personal journey and creating the tape. He speaks with a higher "alien". The alien mentioned that words can't cause of effect. Only feelings. Must ATTACHED a feeling to the words

2. Fear holds people back

I was one of those people that believe I wasn't scared but when stuff happened- I kinda freak out. this can be with anyone. Just calm yourself and say you're not scared. You don't need any much but keep your fears in check

3. Doing too much/Doing too little

I believe to have a desire, is to think of it. Sometimes, people are doing way too much. Not saying stop what you're doing but now and then. Take a step back and see if you're doing too much. Sometimes, you're the biggest block. Remember, the brain will protect you no matter what. so if you keep pushing and pushing, it can cause your brain to block because it might feel like you're overdriving it/ too much pressure.

The reason you're not enter the void state, manifesting or shifting

State!state!state!state!statestate!state!state!state!state!state!statestate!state!state!state!state!state!statestate!state

It's state

Your "I am" 123, STATS ain't going to do SHIT. If you're not changing your internal state. A poor man, cannot be rich- with poor man mentally. The goal that you should be having is to have no need to react to the physical world. The reason 99.9 percent people fucked up is they are not changing internally. We all know that our physical world is just a frozen place of the state of our mentality. action cannot beat mentality. A poor person can win the lottery And go back to squared one if he stays in he's poor man mentality.

"The methods that you have done, all aim for one thing- to change State"

To change the outer world, you must change the inner world. So no action is needed.

Basically, the key is to change your state before doing methods or anything in the physical world.

TIMELINE

State/frequency ---> INNER CHANGE ---> action ----> DR

How change State? To be honest I don't know

This is a hard one because everyone is different. It revolves around you and what you believe in. If you believe ripping your armpit hairs and shaking your ass will get you to shift or your crush. Who am I to tell you it's not? It's your belief- meaning you're in a state of being. This is what I'm kinda learning so far that can help the shift.

1. Feeling of being

2. Changing/flipping thoughts

3. Detach reaction from physical world

4. STATS

Most important: stop giving the universe a ick! Keep persisting.

The universe gets the most nasties ick if you keep acting like you lacked. causes it to go "ewww wtf?". It's like someone desperately trying to be with you even if you have no romantic interest in them. That's what you're doing to the universe 😭

The universe doesn't hate you or love you..it's job is to give people what they are. That's why a rich man gets richer and the poor man gets poorer

[gullwrites]

a bar called safe house

summary: Maybe asking a friend to help you with your work isn't always a good idea, especially if a guy who secretly hates your friend shows up. Now, after asking her new associate she had gained through work to help hide something that happened, including her friend Tobias and this coworker deemed as 'knows too much', Klara is told to go to a specific bar with her still-a-bit-shocked friend to wait for the associates' people to be done at the apartment.

a conversation of a specific event in their early relationship/friendship i've been thinking of abt lately. idk. happens twenty years before cynosure events btw.

warnings: mentions of killing someone in self-defence, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of blood, mentions of murder

"I think my mom took me here a couple of times..."

Klara turned to look at it quickly, surprised at it suddenly saying something after a silent walk here. Not like she was completely surprised about its silence, it's not every day someone like Tobias could experience something like... that.

They were in a dim-lit cafe-bar thing called Safe House, making Klara wonder how literal the name was. She was told to take it here, while the people who worked for Birch took care of the... problem.

1:56 AM, barely anyone outside and no one in the cafe. Except for them. Only some people knew it was open at this time, those who were allowed to know, and the owners didn't seem to be keen on telling that to anyone they see on the street, either. One of them sat behind the counter, reading a book - Klara couldn't tell what, exactly.

"At a normal time, I hope?" She asked.

"Haha, no. Insomnia runs in the family, it seems," it replied, staring at the menu, "At 2 at night, I think. Maybe a bit earlier once. She knew someone who knew someone who was friends with the lover of the owner."

Klara wondered what kind of people its mother knew to know about this place. "God, didn't you live at, like, Medford or something?" She said, imagining how long it would take to get here from there. They must've had a car. "Gonna order the same thing now, too?"

"Oh, no no no, no, I've had enough of lemon iced tea in Miami. Never again." Tobias stepped closer to the counter and leaned on it. "Pomegranate spritz, non-alcoholic, please."

"Anything else?" The voice behind the counter asked, and it glanced at her, awaiting for her order.

"Oh, um, hang on, I haven't checked the menu myself yet," Klara said and stepped closer, cursing the dim light and small font in her head - and forgetting her glasses. "I'll pay, you go find a cool table to sit at," she said to Tobias, who stood still by the counter.

It looked around, then walked closer to her, clearly not wanting to be alone. After a moment of Klara squinting at the menu, it said, "You're an iced coffee enjoyer, why not order that? They had cold brew, too."

"Hmm... Yeah, I'll take that," she walked to the counter to pay, but the owner didn't seem to notice her as they just kept working on the drinks. "Where's the reader?"

"The payment was taken care of already by the person who told you to come here," they said, and motioned them to go and pick a table.

--

They picked the table by the window, by the wall. Klara watched Tobias slowly sit down, and how it took off its leather jacket to place it near the wall, like a makeshift pillow. She thought about sitting next to it for a moment, to maybe try and offer some comfort, or to just be close, but ended up sitting on the opposite side of the table instead. Maybe that would help her with less thoughts about 'being close'. Maybe. "You okay?"

"Hm, fun question," it said quietly, leaning on the table, "Maybe? I don't know. I guess you could say yes in a 'I'm alive' way. But everything else, a big question mark. Although, I do feel awful about what I did, you know? Or, maybe not awful, just- uh, I don't know, sorry."

"Nothing to apologize about, it's very normal."

It glanced at her, a frown on its lips. "What's normal about this situation..."

"Your reaction's normal. I mean, that must have been shocking, so of course it makes you feel weird."

"I wouldn't use 'shocking' to describe killing someone, but yeah, I guess," it sighed and covered its face with its hands, mumbling, "Oh my, what have I done..."

The owner brought their drinks, not paying any attention to what was happening. Klara wondered if they just didn't care, or if there have been weirder things happening here before.

Klara watched them leave, and then looked at it. "May I remind you that it was in self-defence. We already talked about this before." She hoped that its bathroom was soundproof enough.

Tobias opened its mouth to answer, but closed it quickly, reaching for its drink instead. To hold it, twirl it around slightly, not to drink - something idle to do while lost in thoughts. Klara watched the dark red liquid move in the glass, wondering what it could see in it. Looked at its fingers around the glass, still noticing some blood under its fingernails. Thought about the two big wounds she had taken care of on its left side, sitting on the floor in its bathroom, its smooth skin warm under her hands - she stopped herself for a moment, wondering if it's normal to think of something like that. At that moment it seemed to only care more about what body cream it could use after a shower. It ended up choosing vanilla, and Klara could feel its faint scent across the small coffee table, finding it interesting how much it seemed to care about something like skincare.

Maybe it was just thinking of something that wouldn't let it think of what was happening outside the bathroom, Klara thought, Not every day some people who work for a guy you don't know come help clean things up.

Suddenly, Klara realized she's been staring at its face the whole time as she was lost in her thoughts. She leaned back and picked up her glass of cold brew, hoping the paper straw hasn't melted yet.

Tobias didn't seem to be fully here, either. Its dark brown eyes, almost black in the cafe's poor light, seemed unfocused, and it seemed to barely move. Its hand was still holding the cocktail, thoigh it didn't twirl it around anymore. She fought the urge to place her hand on its. Didn't want to bother it.

"I think, um... I think I learned something. About myself. Or, well, um, I don't know," it finally said, its voice trailing off at the end, as it placed the glass down and leaned on the table.

Klara sighed, readying herself for it to call itself an awful person for what it had done, once again, or whatever it could've thought of. And thought of what to say to it about that, again. Maybe something like 'if you were, you wouldn't feel bad about it'... like some of her coworkers. "And what would that be?" She asked.

"I, um. This might sound weird, I guess, but. I don't think I would've acted like this before," it paused, as if looking for right words, "I mean, um. I think I would just, uh, give him what he wanted. Wouldn't care about him killing me. Maybe I'd even be okay with it. Or...something more positive, even? Anyway. Would've done that half a year ago. But now? I... I think I realized that, well, there are things for me to live for. Things to work towards, people to talk to, helping others... People to live for," it said, glancing at her for a moment as it said the last sentence. Klara thought if it was an accident, or just a reflex, or something. Surely it didn't mean anything by that. Did it?

Before she could reply, it continued, "I'm not trying to say what I did is right. It isn't. And I'll live with that my whole life. But, at that moment, fighting for myself seemed like a good thing..."

"And it was," she said, "said it yourself, many times, you didn't mean to. It was literally the first thing you said when I arrived."

It shrugged, looking down again. "I don't know, I- Ugh. I feel sick about it... but also, uh, free? In some way? Is it wrong?"

"No."

"Pfft. It feels like you're saying that only so I would feel better."

"Didn't you call me straightforward person?"

It smirked slightly, looking at her with its soft, brown eyes. "As a compliment. Um. I mean... It's a good trait to have. Along with all the other good traits you have, and, uh," it picked up its drink and took a sip, as if to stop itself from saying more.

"Then you know I'm being honest," she said and leaned closer. "Nothing wrong with defending yourself. Besides, guy was a complete asshole. And, well, a murderer. Imagine how many people he had killed before, both for work and for whatever he was doing on the side."

"Hmm," it looked at the glass again, its shoulders seeming less tense. "I hope none of my, uh, whining sounds weird or offensive to you, by the way. As in-"

"As in me being a corporate agent and doing all the shit that role brings with itself? No, don't worry about it. That's the hole I digged for myself."

"Should get you out of there and have you sipping iced coffee while looking at gulls on the beach."

"Hah. That would be fun, yeah... Though, only if you're there doing random commentary about things happening around us," she chuckled, thinking of the 'research trip' two days ago. How its laugh and stories seemed to fill her memories of that day.

"Oh, gladly," it said. "I, um. Thank you, Klara, for being here. And for all the help back at the apartment, too. For everything. It's helping... a lot. Means a lot."

She froze for a moment, thinking what to say. "I mean, technically it's my fault you got into that situation... If I didn't ask you to help me out with work, Pierce wouldn't have even know you're here."

"I'm sure he'd found a way to try and kill me in one way or another. Probably dreamed of it since the end of the project. Don't blame yourself."

"Only if you won't blame yourself for what happened, either."

It didn't say anything, staring at the drink its glass, yet she did notice it smiling more widely. Good, that's good, she thought, though failing to explain to herself why it was good.

She leaned back and looked out of the window. "I should ask if they're done with your apartment. You need to sleep, maybe write that you'll take a few days off as 'sick leave', calm doen before going back to your courses and work... and your thesis..."

"Yeah, uh. Oh, fuck, the thesis... Uh. Just remembered that Pierce destroyed all my data drives and my laptop while trying to get rid of all the information I had for your work."

"You don't have any copies left? Of your thesis, I mean, not the stupid work files. Fuck them."

It shrugged. "I, uh, fucking hell. Um-" it paused, finished its drink, and sighed. "You know what, I'll figure it out later. You're right, maybe I meed a break."

"Hm, you sure do," Klara thought about taking a few days off herself. Just to keep an eye on it, make sure it's feeling alright, she thought to herself.

She opened her phone and noticed a message from one of Birch's people, saying that the apartment is free now and that they'll contact her later about the next steps and updates. "You can go home now, it seems," she said to it.

"Did they, uh, clean up everything there. Where that happened, that is."

"Yep. Based on what I've seen before, they do a good job, so don't worry about it. It will all look completely normal." Except that you won't be able to forget about it, she almost added, wondering if it could move out despite the year-long agreement it had.

Tobias nodded. "Uh-huh. Um. How much do I owe this guy, by the way. Surely nothing he does is for free..."

"Actually, about that. Weird thing, but when I mentioned your name, he said it'd be for free. No, don't ask why. I don't know either."

"Huh. Um. Okay." It stood up and put its leather jacket on. "Weird question, but can you stay over? I, um, I know nothing's going to happen anymore, but-"

"Being alone doesn't feel right, huh? Understandable. Of course I'll stay with you."

"...Thank you."