#Come on how would he know a person is attacking

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[zomboivex]

Getting personal for a moment. But I feel it’s important to share, anyways.

When I was married, everyone in my life gaslit me to believe I was terrible with managing my money. Any personal expensive was noted as frivolous and wasteful. Bought some fabric for my hobby of dress-making with money I earned from a bonus?

That could have been used for the water bill next month!

Had a $1000 bonus? No. That’s for the house mortgage that he didn’t let my name exist on even though I paid for majority of the renovations because he was content letting the kitchen sit in disarray with thick dust in the air. Causing me to have severe allergy attacks every day.

Called off sick?

How could you? We have bills to pay!!!!

Go through extreme harassment at work?

No. You’re making it up. It’s an excuse to take a day off and relax.

Ignore the fact that he called off regularly because he had headaches while I was shamed into going to work despite having the flu.

Set up a joint account where only I contributed to put money in for bills to pay. Because he would pay from his account. Then he’d constantly drain the joint account for ‘bills’ and then spend his money on who even knows. We had 2 maxed out credit cards in his name.

But this was so normal to me. Because I grew up like this. I grew up with my ‘support system’ telling me this is normal. Telling me that I am the problem.

And I believed it.

I believed that everything that was wrong was me.

I didn’t know he was $7,000 in debt until our divorce where he was demanding I pay it off.

I never did find out what he used that money on. I suspect it was on his gaming addiction and my alleged ‘best friend’ he was sleeping with.

When I finally got out of that relationship, I was in financial ruin. I had nothing in my name. At 30.

I lost everything. (Except for the car that I begged for him to let me take and 3 of my 4 cats).

I lost the house I lived in for years. It was all in his name. There was nothing I could do about it. Because we were ‘only married for 3 years’ despite being together for 10.

I had no furniture to take with me. Save for a couch. That I couldn’t actually take because I had no place to go. I was couch surfing or sleeping in my car at this time.

I lost my dream job because my ‘friend’ worked there as well. And while they were beyond accommodating to my situation, I could no longer mentally handle being there nor could I handle the hour drive once I did find a place to live.

$1000 down on a new apartment.

Car broke down a month later. $1000 down on a new car.

Said car was stolen twice. Can’t even begin to tell you how much money that leeched out of my savings.

$23,000 (with health insurance) for surgery due to appendicitis.

All in a year after divorce.

It was defeating. It was so fucking hard.

In a span of a year I went through multiple life crises events. I can feel how it physically changed my ability to process information. In a way, I’ve become ‘dumber’ because of it. I can’t hold onto information. I have a hard time reading and staying focused.

Only reason I was able to even financially get through all of that was because I had some money saved from a lawsuit at the job that was harassing me that I wound up winning after the divorce. That and I finally caved in and got a credit card (my credit score was good) and a couple of personal loans.

I’m still paying it all off. It has been so fucking hard.

And I’ve been going through waves of hating myself for being so naive to feeling terrible for what I’ve been through because I didn’t see anything wrong with what I experienced as it was happening. And I’m finally coming to my own form of peace with this. But it was hard.

I had been with him for 10 years.

I don’t love easily. But I did love him. Even if I showed it in odd ways. I wouldn’t have married him, otherwise.

And then when everyone around me said I was the problem, I believed them.

Even now, I have an incredibly hard time understanding when I am truly in the wrong with a situation or if my reaction to things are justified.

I didn’t realize I was being put through mental and financial abuse by so many people around me.

I wish I could hug me from a few years ago and let them know they are so strong for going through all of this. But that they shouldn’t have had to be so strong for so long.

I wish I could hug every woman on the planet that has been through anything where they had to ‘be strong’ to survive while thinking it’s normal.

Baby, it’s not normal. You deserve so much more in this world.

You deserve your own freedom and a support system that values you and lets you know when you’re going through actual bullshit instead of painting you as the villain.

To all the women out there who go through these things; I love you. I see you.

maybe i’m a joyless bitch but i actually do NOT think it’s funny to see women being like “the house is just in my husbands name” or “my husband makes all the money” or “i don’t even know who our mortgage is with” or “the only bank account/credit card is his and i get an allowance” like i do NOT find that cute or romantic and i am begging these women to Stand Up. you should at least be named on the deed to your house and the title to your car and the bank accounts even if you don’t pay for them/earn all the money. you can’t stop existing in the eyes of the law and the credit unions simply because you have a husband. if you’re raising his children and washing his socks half of everything he’s got is yours and it needs to be yours LEGALLY BY NAME. "he takes such good care of me :)" girl you are a PRISONER!! that’s all

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

Sneeg is trying so hard to give Ros "Scary Dog Privilege". For anyone unaware, "Scary Dog Privilege" is a term used for when someone has an intimidating dog (or often times person) that makes people hesitant to mess with them. It allows the person to feel more free and safe without worry of potential attack.

It's a role that Clown had fallen into with Ros. People know not to mess with Ros whenever Clown is around. There were several times when the hostile faction was going to attack Ros but reconsidered the moment they saw Clown looming over her shoulder. However, Clown isn't around a whole lot and in his absence people tend to push Ros around.

Sneeg has noticed this and has also assigned himself the role of "Scary Dog" on Ros's behalf. He makes the effort to check in with Ros when she is talking with other people and makes a show of asserting himself as someone on Ros's side. The other day when Tubbo and Krow were bothering Ros while she was building the castle the first words out of his mouth were "Are you bothering my architect?" Immediately he is making a public show that bothering Ros means bothering Sneeg. He wants people to know this. He also goes on to ask Ros if she actually wants Tubbo and Krow there and offers to chase them away in a very threatening manner. Ros isn't very confrontational so he deliberately makes it known that it is ultimately Ros's choice and that he will back her up. He wants people to respect Ros's choices and he has been making public displays to show there will be consequences if people do not. Sneeg also wants Ros to know that she can make her own decisions and have them be respected. Sneeg wants Ros to know that she can say no to people. It is a well known joke on the server that Ros has no backbone and can be easily convinced to do almost anything. She is afraid of confrontation and the potential retaliation that comes with it. She is also very afraid that people will turn against her. She was convinced that everyone would take Owen's side against her and she was hesitant to say anything to even her friends. Even after killing Owen the first time she worried that she was the one in the wrong and had to be reassured that what she did was understandable. Sneeg is trying his hardest to prove to her that he will be there to back her up no matter what. He is trying to prove to her that she always has someone in her corner that will stand up for her. He constantly makes the effort to put choices in Ros's hands and making it known that he will respect them. When Ros had left the yellow faction he repeatedly told her that, if she really wanted to leave, he would not force her to go back to The Kingdom. He just wanted to be sure it was a decision that she wanted and that she wasn't being forced out. He also refused to speak on her behalf when it came to telling Clown about it. It was important that Ros chose what to tell him. In fact, he also made sure it was Ros who started the confrontation with Owen and he only jumped in to support her when Ros was backing down. It's important to him that Ros is the one making these choices and not just following what others want. So now this brings us to Sneeg building an alarm system in the castle that gives Ros the power to summon him at any time. Ros has been complaining for months about how building the castle is so difficult because people always bother her there. Sneeg has been very vocal about his frustration of the constant intruders and people's lack of respect for Ros. It infuriates him that Ros doesn't feel comfortable to build her own castle because people don't leave her alone. So now he has embraced his role as "Scary Dog" and he's living up to it. He feels that the castle is Ros's and she gets to decide who is there. If people are in the castle and Ros doesn't want them there, he will chase them off. People will learn not to bother Ros and respect her wishes otherwise they will be bothering Sneeg. Very few people want to bother Sneeg and he is a lot less patient and less forgiving than Ros is. Ultimately it is up to Ros how much she uses the system but the important part is that it makes Ros feel safer telling people to leave her alone.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should really take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

[sitronsangbody]

Warning: this gets grim

I'm up at night thinking about an episode of Supernatural and how it demonstrates some really heinous public attitudes toward fat people.

Mild spoilers for Supernatural season 6 I guess:

Dean Winchester has to take on the job of Death for a day, meaning he has to go to those who are supposedly destined to die, witness their final moments, and give them the touch of death, thus claiming their lives and sending them to the afterlife. He soon struggles to live up to his responsibilities as he's required to end the lives of a sick child and a young nurse. His first two victims, however, don't bother his conscience at all. The first is an armed robber who threatens to shoot a little boy and gets killed by the boy's father. The second is a fat man who has a heart attack.

When I say fat, what I really mean is fat-coded; the man is simply not stick thin in the way that nearly every character on the show is, so he counts as fat and his storyline (minor though it is) is tied to his size. He is in his 50s, maybe early 60s. We first see him wolfing down a cheeseburger, and Dean says "this look like a heart attack situation", before the man indeed clutches his chest and dies. When he asks why he had to die, Dean's reply is: "you think maybe it was the extra cheese?"

His death is not portrayed as tragic in any way. He himself is only mildly distressed. We don't get to see anyone grieving for him. His death is there to be one of the Easy ones, an unsurprising, almost comical and even deserved(?) death to make Dean think it's not that bad of a gig, ending people's lives. And we, the viewers, are supposed to agree. We're not invited to feel sad for this man in the slightest, even in retrospect. Everyone who created this scene and decided to keep it in the show, believed this to be a normal way to think of a fat person suddenly dying. This came out in 2010.

It just encapsulates so much stuff - really fucking dark stuff, I might add - about how fat lives have been viewed through the years. That scene (and scenes like it) says:

- when fat people die, it's because they brought it on themselves. They are ticking timebombs and their death is expected.

- when fat people die young, no they don't, because being fat means living on borrowed time anyway, so a fat person dying way earlier than the average life expectancy is not tragic the way it is if a thin person does.

- when fat people die, it's definitely because they are fat (and they are fat because they make bad choices).

- when fat people eat what's considered unhealthy food, it's depressing and stupid and they're out of control. Dean Winchester is canonically a big fan of fast food and eats burgers all the time on the show. Because he is thin and fit, this is portrayed as fun, relatable and manly.

- when fat people die, it's not sad.

And like, I wish this was exclusive to fiction, but there are real people who act like this when real fat people die. Like they know why, even if they have no clue, like it shouldn't be shocking, like it's self-inflicted and therefore deserved, and like it probably wasn't much of a life anyway so it's just not that tragic, really.

This stuff is, just for me personally, one of the roughest sides of anti-fatness. When people deny us dignity in death. Partly because it's so ghoulish, and partly because it's so ubiquitous it appears in media like this, without controversy. I'd like to believe there would be stronger reactions had this plotline come out today in 2025, but I am not confident.

[yoiiyoii]

In honour of the birthday of Giyuu Tomioka the best character in demon slayer (to ME), I will use my free will to rant about the best Giyuu panels in the manga:

1.

Peak. Best of the best. Magnum opus of Demon Slayer manga. This specific moment is when my emotions reach the climax every single time I read the fight.

Giyuu and Tanjirou, one arm each, holding on to one sword, focus on the Rengoku sword hilt. Tanjirou being guided once again by the two hashiras he looks up to the most.

Once again, right after this, Tanjirou pushes Giyuu back and saves his life. A full circle, the lowest of the low for Giyuu, the highest of the highs of striking Muzan together.

Notice that Giyuu unlocked the red blade TWICE, once with Sanemi, his foil among the hashiras, and now with Tanjirou, the one he cherishes the most. Giyuu - always defined by his relationships. Giyuu as an individual character in a vacuum has very little to show. It's just another backstory, a traumatized hashira, just like the other demon slayers. Giyuu stands out in Demon Slayer because he is constantly present, he has developing relationships. The red blade is just another show for that. This panel does this theme of Giyuu justice too.

And, lore aside, the absolute HYPE of this scene. The long drawn fight, the hashiras with lost limbs all down, Sanemi and Obanai come in to attack Muzan and save Tanjirou, but oh-- where's Giyuu again? RIGHT HEREEEEE!!!!!!! LENDING A HAND TO TANJIROU, LITERALLY, AS HE ALWAYS HAS.

2.

Pretty self explanatory. Absolute badass, putting himself between an Uppermoon and someone he cares about, Tanjirou.

It goes into Giyuu's biggest theme of protection. He hates being protected, he wants to protect the people he loves (just like Akaza). He did not want to be a 'useless komainu' to Tanjirou. I don't know if it's stated explicitly but its obvious that Dead Calm was created so he would be able to protect himself without needing the help of others. His fight against Rui was a simpler version of this: protecting Tanjirou (though at the time he didn't recognize him), against Rui, whose whole theme was about wanting to be protected by a family, with elders fulfilling their role of protection.

Here Giyuu and Tanjirou were, dealing with the same theme again, and Giyuu going all out with wanting Tanjirou to survive. It's not that he's been silent about his love for Tanjirou, but this is where he explicitly declares wanting to protect him, in his own words (do NOT take a shot everytime you see the word "protect").

3.

Debating between this or the 4th panel, I chose this as the 3rd because this is MY post and I want to make top 3 posts all about him and Tanjirou.

And boyyyyyy is it about him and Tanjirou. He cant even sit up. Is it not insane to see him being THIS vulnerable?? in public???? Add to the fact that he knows Tanjirou's closer friends are right there in the same battlefield, and yet it was him who couldn't help but want to stay physically close to Tanjirou. If Tanjirou's death had been true, he'd be back at square 1, being useless, never strong enough (quite a recurring theme in Demon Slayer I must say).

Like, look, he's sobbing, he cried like three times during this whole DKT and death deal. When the inevitable Sunrise Countdown movie comes out, I personally would like to close my eyes and ears during this scene.

4.

I admit this could and should have been number 3. But that aside, the coolest panel in the manga award goes to... (to be fair, that can be debated, other panels are just as cool if not cooler for sure.)

Sanemi and Giyuu, peak relationship in Demon Slayer. This moment is the climax to all of the buildup since !!Sanemi's first appearance!! (you see how Giyuu was giving him a whole lot of side eye that scene?)

In a way Sanemi and Giyuu bring out some ~interesting~ emotions in eachother. Who else would Giyuu call a simpleton? Who else would Sanemi pick a fight with, simultaneously trying to understand them? When you go to the AU territory, that's a pretty hefty magnetic pull of a relationship, isn't it?

And this moment - as I said earlier, one of the red blades Giyuu achieved, it's with Sanemi! Sanemi trusted Giyuu with equal strength (as Kanao said that was necessary for a red blade strike), and we've seen them draw before, and that's the ONLY hashira vs hashira we saw! (well, ufotable added a whole bunch, and I'm thankful for that, but I do regard Gotouge's compact and limited version of the story higher. Gotouge thought that Sanemi vs Giyuu was the most important hashira sparring for the audience out of all of them, and for obvious reasons).

All of that, AND the panel calls back to that one picture of Sabito flying over Giyuu. Two of the rough dudes Giyuu has been associated with, which is a nice touch.

And heyyy that's the sword that Sanemi threw at Giyuu!! Which was a pretty important moment right before Giyuu explicitly called himself a hashira (contrasting with Tanjirou, where he stood merely as the protector, the senior, with no regard to their posts and hierarchies). Sanemi gave Giyuu some real good push this fight. Would have loved to see them on a mission together, but alas, Demon Slayer manga is pretty limited with what it shows.

5.

I don't have much to say. It's just cute, alright? Look at him all teeny tiny smiling about the prospect of being friends with Sanemi. What the hell. Why are you so cute. Look at Tanjirou sharing the same dumbass braincell. What's up with these two

Unranked honorary mentions:

10/10. More of 21 trio stupidness, please. And look at Giyuu's stupid face as if he didn't just insult Sanemi in front of everyone. OBANAI, HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING TO YOU-

His crow he's so attached to :,(. I would personally die for you Kanzaburou. And yeah, absolutely, Kanzaburou mistaking Tanjirou for Giyuu. They have the same essence I guess

MURATAAAAAAA and yes, while I do love this because of the whole Murata celebrity crush on Giyuu thing and all, I love how desperate Giyuu was the entire time to save Tanjirou, even in the middle of his own fight again MUZAN HIMSELF. And who better to take care of Tanjirou than Murata, someone who took care of him back when Sabito died? Connected bonds, alright. Sabito already helped Tanjirou with his journey back in Mt. Sagiri, he could also use someone else from Giyuu's past.

Post canon, all of it. The light in his eyes, his journey, he deserves all of the love and peace.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Macaque doesn't ever come face to face with Wu until after New Years, something MK had sort of intentionally did. Look, in his defense, it hadn't been the first time soemone had mistaken his Uncle Wu for the Monkey King (see the Calabash episode) and he didn't want to risk Macaque attacking his uncle for no good reason because he thought he was someone was wasn't, he wasn't dumb enough to not realize that Macaque would do something rash based on what he did when he thought MK had connections to the real Great Sage!

After New Years, however, Wu is revealed to have been Sun Wukong this entire time. And after being convinced to stay by weaponized puppy dog eyes form MK and a pleading Sandy telling him they love him legend or no legend during Sleep Bug, Wu had been dealing with a lot of fuss and harassment from the demons who'd been in the spider web with him, the Demon Bull Family included (albeit they weren't really HARASSING him moreso not leaving him alone after father and son eavesdropped on why he disappeared and how he felt he being Sun Wukong was akin to being a monster). So Tang comes up with the idea of seeing a shadow play. The room would be dark, nobody would see anyone else in the crowd, and it'd give Wu a chance to just relax and enjoy himself.

Unfortunately, the person doing the play happened to ve the person the most obsessed with the Monkey King, and he recognizes him in the crowd.

I'm just thinking of Macaque brooding after his attempt to draw Wukong out in his debut episode failed - only to overhear a certain pair of horned demons bouncing conspiracy theories off one another. Turns out having your former-mentor's nutty kids around doesn't leave much room for silence.

Macaque finds the twins in the theatre's prop room discussing over a large cork board containing MK's and multiple peoples' photographs. There's drawing attached to each photo, seemingly ripped from books.

Jin: "What about the cook? He seems to be both the Monkie Kid's dad and his boss?" Yin: "Must be like when we work for mum." Jin, nodding: "Ah, true. Why hire staff when you got perfectly good kids right there? But then again, wouldn't that make him the Pig Kid?" Macaque, makes presence known: "What are you two doing?" Jin & Yin: (*jump a little at seeing the shadow monkey emerge from the shadows*) Yin: "'Ello bruv!" Jin: "Ever since we tried capturing the Monkie Kid in the Dream Calabash, we've been thinking lots." Macaque, snarking: "An extreme sport." Jin: "Hardy har." Yin: "Well, we tried recreating the Monkie Kid's uncle in the Calabash, and you know what? He looks an awful lot like The Monkey King!" Macaque, stunned: "...what?" Jin: "Working theory. We actually thought it *was* the Monkey King when we tried making the calabash copy! But the kid didn't see it that way. Kept calling 'im Uncle Wu for some reason." Yin, gesturing to the noodle gang's photos: "So now our theory is that the Monkey King has been in hiding, acting the Uncle to his old bruvs descendants, and choose MK as his successor cus he's the pig's something great-grandson!" Macaque: (*slowly blinks as the sheer weirdness of the theory sinks in. Sees a blurry photograph of someone who is definitely Wukong giving younger MK a piggyback ride*) Jin & Yin: (*look very proud/smug of their detective work*) Macaque: "I need a drink."

Macaque swears he can hear the twins yell "I FECKING KNEW IT!!!" on New Years.

And now the shadow monkey is secretly scaring suitors away from his Wukong like they're cubs all over again.

Macaque tries (key word: tries) to put on a dranatic show to his mate so that he can get it through Wukong's head that no matter how he feels about him in the moment's he's still His.

Then MK stumbles in mid-confession, and panics thonking Macaque is planning an attack!!

Wukong is left more confused, an convinced Macaque hates him more than ever.

Macaque curses MK for having terrible timing.

[moonlitcelestial]

Chapter 5

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x Poly OT8 Ateez

W/C 3,881

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾ 

Inspiration Pictures Pinterest Board

Previous Chapter (Chapter 4)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer. I will be attempting to keep it as gender neutral as possible but it will have she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, possible angst, fluff, and obliviousness. 

This list will be updated as the story goes on. 

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety/Panic Attack. Dark Jokes.

Thanks for reading <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

“Y/N?” You heard someone shaking you and repeating your name. Holy shit, you fell asleep. You shot up and looked around the room. Most of the boys were standing putting on their light jackets. Seonghwa was looking at you with something you couldn’t decipher. You turned to look at your team and they were watching the interaction with smirks. Everything clicked into place. They were watching you because you were surrounded by some of the people you idolized. They were watching you to see if you would embarrass yourself and you most certainly had.

Fuck. 

“I am so sorry Seonghwa, I didn’t even realize that I fell asleep or that I was even tired. It won’t happen again, I am so sorry” You rambled at a quick place. You scrambled up from the seat and bowed before you scurried away from everyone and out into the hall. You had remembered seeing a restroom not too far away so you practically ran toward it. You were getting too hot. Was it embarrassment? Could it be shame? You made it to the bathroom door, yanked the door open, and locked yourself in. You rolled up your sleeves, leaned against the sink, and put your head down. Your head started swimming with uncontrollable thoughts. Each one bleeding into the last. You could feel your breath coming in shaky pants, you couldn't get a deep breath. You could barely suck in enough air to keep you from feeling lightheaded. Your sight got blurry and you could feel yourself start to shake. The heat that was burning in your body felt like the sun was trying to escape from your skin. 

Did you cross a line? Did you just make him uncomfortable? You fell asleep on your first official day of being here at KQ. How could you be so stupid? Would he request that they cancel the contract? Could you have fucked things up on your first official day? You jumped at the sound of small knocks on the door. The thoughts ceased for only a moment. 

“Hey, Boo it's me, can you open the door?” There were only three people who called you that, Aurora, Forrest, or Willow. From the sound of it it was Willow. She was always the person of the friend group to calm any one of you down. She was a grounding presence. You shakily stepped over to the door unlocking it and let her in, Aurora followed shortly after her. Forrest was posted up on the side of the door like a guard dog. Once all three of you were in the bathroom and Aurora locked the door you threw yourself at Willow. She knew that when you were in a bad headspace you either needed to be left alone or you needed grounding. She was good about being able to tell which one it was, which came from the years of friendship. She wrapped her arms around you and let you breathe her in. You sighed and relaxed into her hold. “How could I be so stupid? How could I fall asleep on the first day? How could I fall asleep on someone who knows I bias him?”

She shushed you running her hand over the back of your braided hair. “There is no need to be ashamed. In fact I was fairly certain Wooyoung snoozed for a little bit against your leg. Had you been awake you would have noticed that San had his head against your shoulder as well and was snoozing. It was a whole cuddle pile and you were in the middle of it. Seonghwa was the only one who wasn't asleep. San woke up shortly before you did. Seonghwa was comfortable enough with you that he pulled you closer to make sure you were comfortable, and he had his head against yours for the majority of the time you were asleep. You have nothing to worry about. In fact, they are worried about you.” 

“Do you think she is okay?” 

“I am not sure, but I trust her team to know her and help her through whatever was going across her mind before she ran out.” 

“Did we come on too strong? 

“You did not act unlike you normally do, she knows how all of us are, she is an Atiny. She might just be embarrassed that she fell asleep. We can be a lot to handle, we just have to take it slow.”

“All I want to do is run after her and comfort her hyung.” 

“I know you do, I would like to as well but this isn’t something that I think would do her mental state much better.”

“She is a strong person, she is just hesitant around us because I think she is still reeling from all of this. It has only been a few days since they got the call from KQ.” 

“Let’s go down to the cafeteria like we planned with her team and they will meet us like they said. We can only do so much here, she may know us, but she doesn’t know us. She just needs time.”

“They were worried about me? Why would they be worried about me?” you questioned regaining some semblance of a breathing rhythm. Willow had successfully grounded you enough to help you regain some kind of consciousness around your body. 

“Because they care and are amazing people. At least two of them almost ran out the door after you, Forrest had to stop them so we could handle this. They care for you. While you were asleep we could tell so. They kept checking in on you while you slept and they were asking us so many questions about what we do and what you do. They even were asking to see some of your work. They care about you Y/N, it has only been a few days since everything has happened but they are so genuine about getting to know us.”  

You pulled away from Willow and she wiped under your eyes. You hadn’t even realized that a few tears spilled down your face. “You mean that? They aren’t mad?”

“No”, Aurora spoke up, “When they started looking at you questioningly we may have spilled that you generally always have trouble sleeping. Also that you don’t do that very often with people that aren’t us. That you generally hate new people and that you take forever to warm up to someone enough to even consider falling asleep anywhere near them. They were so over the moon that you felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in their presence.”

“You make me sound like a child,” you groaned with a light chuckle. That made the two of them smile wide. “Where would I be without you guys?” you asked.

“Probably playing out in traffic,” Aurora remarked with a grin. You slapped her on the shoulder. All three of you broke out into giggles. You could feel your heartbeat returning to normal. Thankfully they pulled you out before it got really bad, otherwise it would not have been as easy to get through to you. 

“Come on, I am getting hungry and Forrest is still waiting out there.” Willow said to you moving to unlock the door. Forrest turned to look at you and pulled you into a giant hug. Your arms slid around his waist as his hand cradled the back of your head. 

“You worried me there for a second Boo.” He murmured into your hair. 

“I’m sorry, they got me all sorted out, I’m as good as new.” You responded. 

“Let’s go eat, I am starving." he said and kept his arm around your shoulder. He maneuvered you toward the cafeteria and you smiled up at him. These were your people. This is where you are supposed to be, right here in the moment, not in your head. 

After the short walk to the cafeteria you noticed that you were starving as well. Leave it to nerves to make you not notice your bodily functions. You looked around and saw the boys. Seonghwa, Yuhno and San stood up as you approached with Forrest next to you. You shyly waved at them. You noticed that they left four seats open for you and the team. San was the one to move to your duo. He smiled at you and said “I am glad you are okay, you really worried us there for a minute.”

“I’m all good Sannie, I am sorry I worried all of you. Let’s sit and eat and maybe if we have enough time before dance practice I can bring you guys out to see my bike.” you replied in a quiet tone. 

“We would absolutely love that.” He said with a gentle smile. He grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before walking back to his place at the table between Wooyoung and Yeosang. You took the seat across from Yeosang and the girls sat on either side of you leaving the seat next to Aurora open for Forrest who was ordering lunch for your group. Hongjoong looked at you with a smile, and nodded before continuing a conversation with Mingi. You reached over to Willow and grabbed her hand, you were still reeling from everything that just happened.

“How was your nap, sleepy?” Wooyoung teased. San smacked him on the back of the head and turned quickly to look at you. You shrunk into yourself to hide the blush on your face. 

“Yknow, a little birdy told me that you fell asleep on me too so I could be asking you the same question Woo.” You shot back after gathering yourself. Yeosang laughed heartily. That sound was melodic, even if he decided to cover it up and almost immediately stop after Wooyoung glared at him. He looked at you with a small smile. They all had resumed their conversations. You were listening to the conversation between San, Yeo, and Woo until you heard Jongho speak up from the other side of Willow. 

“Wait, really, she is the oldest of all of us?” Your ears perked up as you knew that you were the oldest out of everyone here. All of their gazes fell to the two who were previously having a quiet discussion. 

“Who is older than all of us?” Seonghwa asked, having not heard it over his conversation with Hongjoong.

“Y/N is 27 which is older than all of us.” Jongho said, looking at you around Willow. 

“Yahh, I didn’t know you were so old Noona,” Wooyoung teased. You heard the snicker of San and you cut both of them an icy glare. 

“Oh whatever,” you rolled your eyes at Wooyoung. “You have no need to use honorifics with me unless you feel it is absolutely necessary. I do not care either way because I am not from here.” You said looking down at your hands. You had never really been referred to as anything other than your name or Boo. That was something that you might have to get used to. 

After a couple of minutes of listening to the chatterboxes you heard Yeosang speak up, “Y/N? Can we see your tattoos?” He asked, looking bashful. You looked down and realized that your sleeves were still rolled up. He must have seen the bottom half of them and gotten curious. What a cute maltese. 

“That's a loaded question,” Forrest said, sitting down with a tray of food and dishing it out to the team. You smiled at him and thanked him. 

“Why is that?” Yeosang asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“She has them all over her body, and some of them are in places that you won't see unless she has her top off,” he teased. Hongjoong and Jongho sputtered their drinks at the other end of the table. Some of it got on the table, Seonghwa and Mingi patted their backs trying to make sure they were okay. Yeosang, Wooyoung and San had their mouths open. Seonghwa, Yuhno and Mingi were blushing like mad. You looked around to everyone and your team started laughing. Full on belly laughter came from your portion of the group. You were sure that the other people in the cafeteria were looking at your group in disgust for being so loud. They should be used to it seeing as Ateez and Xikers were very loud groups. Nothing could have prepared you for the look of pure and utter shock on all of their faces. You squeezed Willow’s hand and let go putting it over your mouth while the other was slapping Aurora’s leg. 

“Forrest, I think you broke all of them,” you wheezed. He shrugged his shoulders and continued laughing. 

“You didn’t expect that answer, did you Yeosang?” Aurora asked between fits of giggles. You looked at him and he still had his mouth open slightly. He looked like a goldfish out of water. You stood up and walked around the table to the three with their mouths hanging open. Choosing to be bold you put a finger under each of their chins to close their mouths. 

“If you keep your mouth open like that you’ll catch flies, boys. It is perfectly normal for a person to have tattoos that others can't see. Get your mind out of the gutter.” you whispered just loud enough for only the three of them to hear. All three of them went cherry red and put their heads down as you strutted back to your seat. You plopped down and started eating, prompting all of the rest of them to continue their meals. Aurora got your attention and motioned under the table for a high five and you obliged her. 

There is only one tattoo you had that you would be embarrassed if they saw. It was a testament to yourself and your independence, but it revolved around one of their songs. The lyrics Mingi sang in Halazia, “Who are you, it's just me myself and I” in your own handwriting to remind you to always be loyal to yourself. It was situated right above the moon tarot card on your left hip. It had been a spur of the moment decision while you were traveling after filming something for a client out of the country. Truthfully it was one of your favorite ones. 

“Y/N how many tattoos do you have? HongJoong asked after he recovered. The genuine curiosity in his eyes was so cute. He was looking at you with his big boba eyes that made everyone swoon. 

“I have eight, most of them are fairly large. You will have to wait to see the ones that are visible without my top off until swimsuit season; then and only then you will get to see them,” You stole a glance at Forrest and he let out a huff of laughter. Hongjoong nodded and continued eating. Most of the boys had recovered, but Yeosang still wouldn’t look you in the eye. 

After a little bit of quiet eating from your group Seonghwa stood up and said “Alright, it is almost time for practice, let's go and get our newbies set up and explain to them how things go and what needs to happen for our dance practices.” 

All of the boys chorused in agreement. You stood and helped them clean up the mess everyone created. Once you were finished you followed the group of boys down the hall to where their room was. You had seen this room many times on a screen. You had always been fascinated with how fluidly they moved and how they worked together. You also loved that you could see their personalities shine through in their dancing. All around they were mesmerizing. Some of your favorite videos were the behind the scenes videos. You got to see how they worked and what they preferred to do. 

“Do we need any cameras or is today just a get them set up day?” You asked. walking over to the small desk Hongjoong motioned to. There were four notepads and pens at the ready for you to take notes. How sweet, but you were not one to take notes on paper, it was too much of a hassle to keep all of it together. You preferred to take notes on an iPad or online with the team, that way you could collaborate in the same document. 

“Today is more of a chill day, we are just rehearsing choreography. We have some things that you will need to see to be able to put together an idea of how the shots of the music video could go. We will be recording it in three weeks. I am sure that they might like your input on angles and what could look best for their visions.” Hongjoong said while he started stretching. 

“Before we start can we grab our bags?” You asked. A couple of the boys looked at you curiously. “We prefer to take notes on our iPads so we can compile all of our notes together and discuss what the best course of action is.”

“Yeah you can go grab your stuff, do you need someone to show you where it is? We know this place is a maze.” Hongjoong asked, looking between the four of you. 

“That would be preferable, someone likes to get lost in their free time.” Willow said motioning to you. You turned to her in shock she had not just brought that up. 

“Willow!! You know that being directionally challenged isn't my fault!! Left and right can be hard, that's why I have tattoos; so I can differentiate them from each other.” You defended with an exasperated sigh. She had always teased you for it, she was lucky her brain was wired correctly. Your brain had always been a fucking mess. 

“Sure Boo, whatever you say,” she said grinning at you “you're just lucky you have us to keep your head on your shoulders, keep you from taking a wrong turn somewhere, and from playing in traffic” Your eyes widened, she did not just pull the same shit Aurora did earlier. You lunged at her jokingly attempting to smack her or tickle her. She sidestepped you and before you could stop yourself you ran smack into Forrest’s chest. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and decided that it would be absolutely so much fun to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. You let out a squeal in protest smacking his back. He trotted around the practice room with you bouncing on his shoulder. You could hear the laughter of the boys all around you. 

“Put me down you fucking tree. Willow started it, not me!!” You yelled at him, your plea fell on deaf ears.

“A tree?! Fuck you, you know good and damn well I hate that nickname.” Forrest responded to only part of your statement. He had some of the worst selective hearing. 

“Put me down and I'll say it to your stupid face” you snarked. He set you down on your own two feet, almost throwing you on the ground. You stood toe to toe with him. 

“You. are. a. fucking. tree.” You said in the most serious tone you could poking him in the chest. Aurora got in the middle of the two of you and held you back. She knew you would launch yourself at him to get him back after throwing you around like a ragdoll. 

“Children now let's get a hold of yourselves” Aurora said in a mock serious tone. 

“She started it” you sniped pointing at Willow. She gasped and put a hand to her chest in offence. 

“I would never do such a thing," she said with a smirk. 

“Oh fuck you, lets go get our things, we have already held up their practice enough.” you rolled your eyes and looked around to find out who would be taking you to the room. 

Jongho was the one who stepped up to your group, “I can take you.”

“Thank you Jjong!” You said linking your elbow with his. He looked at you in surprise but went along with it and led you out of the room. 

“I wish we could be like that with her.”

“Is that jealousy I hear” 

“No… okay maybe, but I can't help but to want us to be the people that she is so close to. Or the ones she bickers with like an old married couple.” 

“They have known each other for years, they have a head start on us. We can get to that state; it might just take time.” 

“You know we are impatient men, I just hope we can give it a respectable amount of time before spilling everything.”

“I will make sure that you do.”

“Thank you hyung.”

“So Jjong, what is it like being the scariest and strongest maknae in all of kpop?” 

He chuckled at your question. “It is rewarding to see the faces of people that don't know me. No one would expect me to be the most mature out of all of us. Some people are still shocked by that fact.”

You laughed, he seemed more comfortable around you than you thought he would be. He seemed to be the most hesitant out of all of the boys. He is full of surprises from his vocals to being able to split apples. He really was just a giant teddy bear when it came down to it. You looked at him and smiled, he was so beautiful. Most people do not favor him because of his looks but he was just as beautiful as the rest of them.

“Here we are,” he said, looking at you. Your eyes met and you couldn't help but to blush, there were multitudes behind his eyes. You could spend all day looking into them and never get tired. He was so expressive, his eyes said everything, but they could be hard to read, especially if you barely actually knew him. 

You unlinked your arm from his and walked into the office. Once you got to your backpack you swung it over your shoulder. The rest of your team did the same. You walked back out to meet Jongho and smiled when he looked up at you from his phone. You walked back side by side. Once you got back you set up your camera in the center close to the mirrored walls. You figured that it would be best to get an initial recording to build your notes off of. You then settled yourself right in front of your camera. Your team spread out in a line to take notes with you. You gave the boys a thumbs up and they started to do what they do best. 

The remainder of practice went well, you and your team took notes and started to make a plan for possible angles of the video. You would discuss the plans in more detail later. There were so many ways this could go so doing multiple takes might be something you have to do to get the best result. You were so excited to start on this project and get the ball rolling.  

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 6 Coming Soon)

Taglist:

@breadedloafs @a-short-ass-disappointment @ateezswonderland

[the-real-samwise]

i keep coming back to this post over and over again. i’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and i could never put it into words but i always felt extremely uneasy with this scene (moreso than i think an untraumatized person would). the first time i watched the movie i actually almost had to take a quick break.

i really like this analysis. i don’t know why but understanding the scene this way feels like a better representation of sexual violence than most outright portrayals of it? thoughts:

1 — not only is it not frodo’s fault that boromir attacks him, but the scene emphasizes how quickly and randomly the attack came to frodo from a person he thought he could trust

2 — frodo tells no one; he’s ashamed

3 — frodo’s immediate reaction is not to trust anyone else at all and to get himself / the ring as far away from the area as possible

4 — long-term frodo becomes a lot more guarded

5 — if i remember correctly, when frodo first meets faramir and sees his familial resemblance to boromir frodo has an aggressive memory of boromir trying to take the ring, almost like a flashback

6 — even though boromir ultimately didn’t succeed in taking the ring, the fact that he tried is treated as just as bad and just as traumatizing

There’s something about LOTR that I’ve thought about for a long time and I’d like to discuss it to see if anyone else feels the same way but since it’s a very sensitive subject I don’t know how well that’d go over on here

[7postitsjumpingonabed]

TF2 Mamma Mia! AU

Cannot over stress how it’s-on-the-tin this is.

If you’re curious, my qualifications for this are the fact I’ve seen the movie like 4 times and am currently in a production of the musical so I know my shit.

Also Mamma Mia! is a romcom so I’ll just say the roms I chose are Sniper/Scout, Spy/Ma, minor Heavy/Medic, and optional Soldier/Demo(I present two options).

That’s all the preamble, lets get into this

Sophie

Alright let’s start with the most important character, who is our bride-to-be and catalyst for the whole plot? Scout, of course. Did I mostly pick him because he has known familial relationships that are easily enough translated to these characters? Yes absolutely. Did I also pick him because he seems the type to think inviting three strangers who could be his dad to his wedding is a good idea, he seems the type to be excited over a large and exciting wedding, and is commonly characterized with some form of anxiety that would lead really well into ‘Under Attack’? Also yes absolutely. Broadly, I think that Scout’s young, enthusiastic, and not-forward thinking personality lines up well with Sophie. For this we are going to ignore the other 7 Willis boys as characters, sorry unnamed brothers Sophie is very significantly an only child.

Skye

A reader with baseline knowledge of Mamma Mia! and who read the preamble can easily guess that Sniper is my Skye. I chose him because I like Speeding Bullet, he would definitely prefer a quiet elopement over a big white wedding, and he is also commonly characterized as kind of whipped for Scout so I would see him begrudgingly accepting this wedding as his life and making it work. You may be seeing this and asking ‘Postit, how on earth are you getting Sniper to dance, sing, and do all that theater kid bullshit?’ And to that I raise two things, 1. that is making me think of a community theater AU and that’s absolutely hilarious and now I want to make it but as I write this I’m realizing he would be in lighting… alright anyway 2. Through musicals are things are possible so write that down. Scout and Sniper going off to travel together seems very accurate and cute as well.

Donna

Alright this one should be clear, it’s Scout’s Ma. In all honesty I did briefly consider having Spy in this role but the fact that Sophie wants her dad at her wedding to do dad things is really important to setting the plot in motion so I’ve relegated him to a different role. Anyway besides literally being Scout’s mom I think she fits well because despite her lack of characterization, from what we do know about her she is a no-nonsense hard worker, who is trying to move past old and questionable decisions, and support her son in what she thinks is a silly decision. Overall I just think she’s the best option and can be made to fit well.

Ali and Lisa

If you only have a passing knowledge of Mamma Mia! you might not know these characters, and honestly I considered combining them into one person because they don’t have large individual impacts but it just worked better to keep them both, but they’re Sophie’s friends and advisors, as well as generation counter parts to Rosie and Tanya. I chose Ms. Pauling and Pyro for these roles. I had really no ideas on this front so it got filled in near the end of planning but I think Pauling and Pyro work well enough. I think if Pauling and Scout can move past potential love

Sam Carmichael

Who else? It’s Spy. With Scout’s Ms as Donna there wasn’t really any other choice. Sam is sort of the prime father and ends up marrying Donna at the end of the story. The second act songs between him and Donna are all about the past, regrets, and missed opportunities and that goes perfectly with the implied dynamic between Spy and Scout’s Ma. In this AU ‘Loraine’ would be Spy’s job, he would leave to work it and come back only to find Ma with other men. Speaking of.

Harry Bright

Harry is contemplative, plays the guitar, and had a ‘rough’ past that doesn’t reflect his current quieter life? Now who does that sound like? Engineer isn’t canonically an ex-punk but the idea of him ‘headbanging’ is really funny. I largely chose him because of his demeanor and the irony of him being a punk in a previous life but the straight forward attitude and guitar playing are also very appropriate.

Bill Anderson

Heavy is my Bill Anderson because he’s the last reasonable man left, his writing associations, and the fact Bill’s two duets in the musical have him mostly responding to another’s behavior. After Heavy the men get a little more visibly insane, even on a picturesque Greek vacation. Bill is a writer and travel books aren’t exactly Russian lit but the general idea lines up. The role of Bill being quiet most of the time and being the first father to figure out his relation to Sophie feels very Heavy.

Rosie

Rosie is Donna’s friend that is on the wild side, never married, and ends up ‘taking a chance’ (imagine me lightly elbowing you at my joke) on Bill. Replace Bill with Heavy and that’s an in complete description of Medic. I can see Medic having not terrible, if not normal, friendships with people willing to embrace the lunacy. A lady who shot her shot with Spy of all people and raised Scout can definitely handle some lunacy. Also there’s a line somewhere, musical or movie, when Bill mentions having one of Rosie’s cookbooks, and that seems like a sweet, Red Oktoberfest thing to do.

Tanya

For lack of better option, Demo is my Tanya. There’s no particularly strong connections between them but Demo needs to go somewhere and Soldier is even worse of a fit for this role. Since this is where he’s going I’ll propose that, if the viewer desires so and is willing to lose the alignment of Tanya’s marriages with the one happening at the end, the series of failed marriages could be changed to jobs, which would give this hypothetical casting more cohesion.

Pepper and Eddy

The only merc left is Soldier and I think him as a largely unhelpful, partying, kind of a freak feels… not terrible. This is where my two options in the Soldier/Demo situation is explained, you can go classic ‘Does Your Mother Know?’ and set the two up as romantic counterparts or you could just have them as friends. Like, Soldier is a ‘bad’ influence and Demo is trying to be normal for Scout’s Ma but is having too much fun with Soldier to resist. I think both work fine and it depends on preferences. For Eddy I want an unenthusiastic Merasmus. We know that Soldier just harasses him and drags him into random scenarios so a reluctant Merasmus can fit as a variation on Eddy so the cast is all lined up.

That’s where my fan cast ends but I want to say that if anyone wants to work with this idea, go ahead but tag me so I can see! Also I’m still thinking about Spy!Donna so there might be a follow up…. But we’ll see. Thank you for reading!

[yandereunsolved]

could see yandere john if he had a sheriff darling purposely getting himself arrested just to see them/harass them, Jack too

I have so many thoughts on this.

Sheriff reader is always a lovely thought when it comes to rdr characters. And yes, like father―like son. It depends if we are talking high or low honor.

I'll do both. To please you all.

Yandere High Honor John would not want to be arrested. He is trying to change his ways. He needs to be better for his family. He isn't a religious man, but coveting another person while he is married is definitely a sin. He's already committed enough of those to last several each other.

So he chooses to help sherriff darling. He clears out the local gangs, buys them drinks, stalks them home and watches out for intruders, and even takes care of scum behind their back. Luring people to their deaths in the wilderness is just what friends do for eachother.

Sure. He dreams about what you feel like. He imagines marrying you too. He wants nothing more than to kidnap you and make you a farm spouse. But he won't. At least not yet. He's either gotta get Abigail on board or―keep you a secret. He really doesn't want to. He's tired of them. Secrets have gotten so many people he's loved killed.

Yandere Low Honor John gets arrested a lot. He's already considered a criminal but he can't be hung or jailed too long because he's working for the government. He's too old to care about 'future' consequences. His entire life has been dealing with future consequences.

He wants you. He wants you now.

And he doesn't have forever to wait. But he still loves to play games with you.

No matter your age he will still try and come off as the older, more dominant person in this weird relationship you have with him. But there's also no joke to his devotion. He will and has murdered people right in front of you for you before. And there's little you can do but lock him up for a few days and hope he'll stop.

He has no qualms about keeping you a secret from his family. He also cares about them somewhat less now that you are in his life. He feels like he is saving them out of obligation, not out of love.

Arthur's sacrifice still hits home for him. But why can't darling be part of the reason he never looks back? Abigail, Jack, and Uncle are the only reason his past is still haunting him. So would it be so bad if they died?

Yandere High Honor Jack is still somewhat the person his parents wanted him to be. He's a bounty hunter―a gunslinger, but not entirely at outlaw. He writes and he yearns. He knows he's too broken to be loved but still wishes for it.

So he gets arrested for more minor incidents. Although, he can't hold back from being violent towards people who are already being violent.

He is more respectful of you and your time. He offers to go on patrol with and or for you. He also hunts down escaped convicts.

Now he can't help but hate your job. You're part of the law who so ruthlessly murdered his pa. But it's like one of those romance books he snuck to read behind his ma's back. He'll help you see the error of your ways. Or kidnap you out of them. Whichever is easier.

He's also lessy mouthy, but still a perv. He just usually keeps those dirty thoughts to himself.

Yandere Low Honor Jack is nothing like the man his father and mother wanted him to be. He hates you so fucking much. And he has very few people to take his anger out on. So he takes it out on you.

He makes as much of a ruckus as he can. Chaos runs amok. And he does a damn good job of it. He's crafty. He knows how to evade you. And he spends most of his time doing just that.

He thinks it'll make you 'want him more' since you're chasing after him (quite literally). It makes his blood pump in more place than one. And who's to say he won't get handsy if he manages to knock you off your horse? Just a little kiss. Maybe more.

His favorite game is to try and mark you up before you can stop him. Whether that be from hickies or bruises you get from him attacking you.

Really the only time you can lock him up is when he's blackout drunk. And even then he manages to find ways to escape before you can hang him. It's just so hard to find good help these days. And you heavily suspect Jack is the one shooting (and brutually killing) the deputies you hire. So no one wants to work for you.

Sometimes he delays his escape from his cell just for fun. Teasing you, flirting, and or trying to bribe you―with not only money but also his body.

[m0usehouse]

~☆screaming just to see who's louder

k.bakugou x tough!reader

based on why try"by Ariana Grande

"I've been living with devils and angels"

You grew up in a harsh environment. Paying bills was always a scramble. Mean kids at school were never interested in your company or the social rejection that would come with it due to your 'ratty and disgusting' used clothing. It didn't help when you had to go without a shower cause the water bill was too high the previous month. The daily stress fights didn't help soothe your young mind either. You grew up quick, knowing that you either own the world or the world owns you

He grew up in a nice home, two parents who loved each other, constantly being praised and adored. He was strong and secure in what he wanted to be. He eventually had to process the weights such perfection came with, but his blonde hair always had a halo glow from the bright sparks in his palms. .

"Realize you and I are in the same boat"

After meeting at the entrance exam, both of you had a resolved hatred for the other. you were kind and gentle, a contrast to what you always knew. He was harsh and abrasive, a trait developed from his mother's firey personality and his own inflated ego. The first interaction was an immediate clash of heads when you politely asked him to lean over so you could see the presentation better. He took that as you trying to insult his existence and that you decided he didn't deserve to be there. It ended with you both in the same arena.

Over time, being in the same class softened spikes enough to realize you both were just hungry to become the best versions of yourselves for yourselves. Weighed down by desperation and a lack of patience.

"Kills me how you love me, then you cut me down, I'll do the same"

No one knew how to handle you two. Even teachers were conflicted. At the USJ incident, and the camp attack, you and Bakugou worked in perfect sync. Almost crazy looking smiles on your faces. The Pussy Cats even assumed you were "mates".

When Katsuki was kidnapped, you were the first to agree to saving him. You had been right alongside Midoriya when he had been taken, reaching out with that same desperation. The desperation was what burned you alive.

You two spent so much time together, bickering but with smirks and sweet smiles thrown in. Then, he'd say something cruel, and you wouldn't put up with it, always spitting a vile reply back in his face. Once the dorms were established, you both got into so many violent screaming matches that Aizawa had to switch your rooms. The fights always ended with you crying and him overworking himself because, as agonizing as the other could be, you both wanted each other close. You wanted to burn, and you wanted him to burn with you.

"We've been living like angels and devils"

He was powerful, smart, talented, and attractive. He was worshipped like a God, but crumbled like false idols always do. His wings slowly lost their pristine whiteness as he clawed for success. His anger was a weak cry for 'more, more, more'. Yet, Angels can never be God, and he wasn't even God's favorite.

You were strong but never shiny enough. Always in the shadow of bright halos, electric bolts, shining smiles, and golden hearts. You spend hours every day after class, wrecking your body to gain at least a little more strength so you'll finally be able to own the world instead of being a slave to its bitterness. Everyone knows devils work in secret. otherwise, they're cast out entirely. Devils have to steal every bit of recognition and success they get. Their hard work will never be acknowledged or seen as worthy because their desire is deemed as ugly.

"I'm loving the pain, I never want to live without it"

You and Katsuki finally became official when you both realized your anger was passion. It was that same fire inside, and it was being mutually stoked by your similarities and drive. You fought constantly. Over stupid things that would turn into big things. A regular back and forth, tit for tat but with bursts of rage that left your ears ringing. However, the fights always ended in a rough kiss. Both of you are just so pent up with existence and goals that you have nowhere to put your uncontrolled anxieties onto each other. It always ended with Katsuki making you both an overly spicy dinner to irritate you while you huffed and found a movie you knew he hated, falling asleep in each other's arms halfway through.

"Through it all, you could still make my heart skip"

Sometimes, there'd be days on end of cold shoulders, silent treatment, passive aggression. It was confusing for everyone watching, but you always ran back to him because you knew he loved you more than anyone ever could. Anyone who has a lot of love could give you more, but he gave you all of his everything. He gave you his flaws, his attention, his support, his adoration, and his respect. He saw how capable you were and the strength you earned through hard work. Those quiet days were never lonely. Other people were blind to the quick love filled glances, the random dinners left in front of your door, and the perfectly prepared protein shakes left on his nightstand when he got back from training. They didn't see the single text you'd get during those times, "still love you, pretty."

"So why do we try?"

You asked him this question once during your post-fight ritual, and he looked down at you with an incredulous smile, his furrowed brows making the playful disbelief clear.

"Baby, look at us. You drive me insane."

[killerzys]

Should probably post this on my venting account..oh well

[DO NOT ATTACK ANYONE THAT WAS MENTIONED]

Tw mentioning of cutting, say kill yourself, and F1zzyst4r

Please don't center me around this drama I'm not the one who needs the support Wenni is they have been a victim of F1zzyst4r for a year now I just want to simply explain.. how this has affected me.. but please show some support to Wenni and not me

More in the undercut

So there has been a lot on my mind been gone a few days so it feels a little bit more clearer

I do not want to meet the situation about me since I'm not the one who's being harassed Wenni has and I don't want to make the situation about me even though I am also being affected by it. Just not the way Wenni has been, that's why I have been scared to talk about how I'm feeling about Skittles.. and everything but uhh just because I don't want to make it about me I'm not the let's say main victim.. yes I have been harassed I don't know if was one of skittle's friends that told me this in my ask box but someone recently told me to kill myself and it threw me off

And for a while I felt forced to be friends with him (Skittles) I texted him before I blocked him that hey I felt forced to be your friend and it's making me uncomfortable.. I didn't say this part but the tracing also made me uncomfortable.. especially when it was clear that you copied someone else's design and is tracing someone else's art without credit or say oh yeah I make expired by this person inspiration, and now don't come attack me and say oh there's a few times that you didn't credit someone but as soon as someone say hey by the way maybe credit the person that gives you inspiration you @ them and I have I go back and edit pic or post and @ the person there is just sometimes where I get so excited that I forget but Skittles even after being called out and you're saying hey dude by the way maybe just give credit to the person that you take inspiration from Skittles is like erm actually they're tracing me!!

That's my point of view of how I see it and those other parts but I don't want to make this really long and boring to read

But I just mainly wanted to say how I've been infected by everything, after becoming friends with Skittles I thought they were kind and sweet they were to me but that's before I knew the full drama I did follow wenni on Pinterest for a while and seen little glimpse here and there last time I seen before I became friends with Skittles is that Wenni and Skittles were on good terms.. so I thought it was all right to be his friend, this whole friendship started because I made my old reference sheet of nighty, based off of on of wenni's old ref.. Skittles was like hey by the way maybe not copy me and I simply told them that I took inspiration from someone else that I didn't even know they were on the board, we became friends on Tumblr and talked, then I started getting targeted not targeted that's not the right word to say involved in drama that simply I was just watching from behind.. never had any attention to get involved with any of the drama but with my luck I somehow got into it because I was friends with Skittles.. I'm no longer friends with him and I feel free I feel safer now but I keep seeing the excuse of like his friends in my inbox "he made art for you and everything, he thought you guys were friends" just because you simply made art for me doesn't really mean anything I'm sorry? Like I make art for a lot of people doesn't mean I'm their friend I just think whatever OC or design I did was really neat and I wanted to draw it myself.. in the friend part I did see each other as friends but we never really communicated like we were friends.. we would talk to each other about the drama and I remember at some point I said whoever is tracing needs to own up to it now so this drama could be over and no one can get hurt or go through more mental health problems... But it seems that he didn't take that advice but oh well but other than talking about the drama and stuff we vented it to each other, there were a few funny moments but it's wasn't really friends? It was like that one buddy you see crossing the hall and you talk for a minute before going back to your class and then you don't see them for the rest of the year that's how it felt and before everything that happened I will admit I had a tad of a crush on Skittles but over time it started affecting me not in the greatest way... And I just lost all feelings when I got with my partner... And then at some point he would call me dear or something ? And sweetheart saying I'm sorry I think someone hacked my account acting all flirty with me which made me uncomfortable...

But besides that uhh he has now decided to text my mutuals or get his friends to do it I believe he's doing it because they are all anonymous and him or he got his friend to send something one of my mutuals inbox say hi by the way uhh river faked being friends with Skittles like a few times something something quite frankly I don't think you should be mutuals with them no more

Ok ok Skittles I see I see going to my mutuals telling them, that they should stop being friends with me because I stopped being friends with you because you're traced someone's art and copied many people's designs and when I tell you that I felt forced to be your friend and felt so uncomfortable and I unfollowed you which is a valid reason saying that I was uncomfortable and blocking you you're going to resort to going to my mutuals and basically harass them saying you should stop being friends with River, river is a bad friend you shouldn't be friends with them

Okay buddy like what? I've been trying to stay serious but the more I text this sentence the more I'm getting mad and the more I'm realizing the red flags that I should have realized from before... Honestly Skittles I hope you get help I hope you get therapy or something I'm not going to wish upon your death because honestly that's against what I believe which is nothing but like I don't believe in telling people they should kill themselves just because of certain actions I feel like they should get help now let's say if you were a pedophile now I would say kill yourself but does drama could have been resolved a long time ago if you just figured out your own art style who you are and stop copying someone to the point of copying that Wenni saying you have anger issues and trust issues ?

Wet Skittles I do wish that you get some therapy help mental help hell go to a mental asylum I don't care get help...

Now onto more stuff that like other things I've been thinking about

So basically going to my friends and harassing them

Having people go in my inbox harassing me saying like why did you stop being friends with Skittle kill yourself

It feels like you're using the fact that I used to have a crush on you against me and saying that we were friends because sometimes we made art for each other?

That's really it? Uh yeah I don't know this entire situation has just had me stressed about everything.. to the point where I'm having a hard time even drawing.. communicating with people talking and everything...it's really unbearable.. a few days ago I lost my streak .. because of this. The stress got so much that I took it out on myself I was almost 2-3 month clean..

[neithriddle]

She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. “Who’s Becca?" “Aegon’s fiancée.” “Oh, your agent’s future wife? The agent that you are definitely not into at all?” “Yeah, that one, you got it.” You give her a wink and take a bite of cake: frosting so sweet it hurts your teeth, tiny kaleidoscopic flecks of candy like gold in a stream.

I mean, I get Sunflower. How can you not be not into a person as Aegon????🤨🤨🤨

He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilled—the jar of pens on the receptionist’s desk? the glass bowl of mints?—and heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt that’s too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.

I'm crying he knows her so well that he already knew that she didn't cancel it, I love him, I want him as a husband!!! 🥹🥹🥹

“No wait, I know him,” you say, and both Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist stare hostilely at you. You ignore them and look at Aegon instead, stunned. “Hi.”

He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. “Hi. What the fuck are you doing?”

I gotta admit it, I laughed here, both of them so chaotic together I loveeeeeeeee it (let's underline that he was almost flashed by Sunflower's chest!!!!)

“Hey,” Aegon murmurs, leaning in close. You can smell the ocean and sunlight and Juicy Fruit gum. Strands of blonde hair, ripped from the sheen of gel, shag over his forehead. “You’re bright as hell just the way you are. You don’t need surgery to be an actress. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I'M CRYIIIIINGGGGGG. What have they done to him to be like this, i want unwrap him and then put him in a blanket burrito to hug him.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

And immediately, you are ready to leave. “Okay.”

I would have done the same, i'm honest.🫣

“You’ll have to come to the wedding!” Becca says cheerfully.

I don't know, she's not telling me the truth and Aegon doesn't seem very happy to me😔😔. I don't like Becca much i hope it's only temporarily because she doesn't seem bad but neither good, i want to know more about her🫠 (especially when she and Aegon will break up!!!! Wait- what if Aegon abandons Becca at the altar for Sunflower?????? 😱😱😱)

A Curse [Chapter 3: Flower District]

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, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, medical stuff, a creepy dude, a special surprise is found in Aegon's office!!!

Word count: 6.2k

💜 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 🏝️

You sleep in late and wake to the sound of excited voices out in the kitchen. When you follow them, you find Baela using a pink Click ‘n Flame utility lighter to ignite the candles on a sloppily but lovingly homemade cake, Pillsbury Funfetti according to the blue box left upturned on the countertop, lumpy white icing dotted with multicolored sprinkles. Jace must be responsible. You panic, thinking that you have forgotten a birthday, but no: you quickly recall that Baela is a Sagittarius and Jace is—somewhat improbably—a Capricorn.

“What are we celebrating?” you ask.

Baela looks up from the cake, the candlelight luminescence radiant on her face. She is beaming, she is glowing, she is definitely meant to be an actress. She shines too brightly to belong anywhere but among the stars. “I got the part.”

“Which part?”

“The one in the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie!”

“No way!” you shout, and you rush over to hug her; but already there is a sinking feeling that you are dimly aware of through the rush, and when the revelry is over you will lie in bed alone with these thoughts, treasonous yet true: When will it be my turn? Why can’t this happen to me? “That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s about the French Revolution,” Baela says when you pull away, still grinning hugely. “I’m getting third billing, my name will be on the promo posters! I’m flying to Paris for filming next month!”

“Wow.” Your smile is frozen on your face. “Wow, wow, wow, I can’t believe it. This is so awesome!”

Then Baela realizes how it must feel for you, and she is sympathetic, rubbing your shoulder as her expression twists into something soft and bashful. “But hey, your luck is turning around too!”

“Yeah,” Jace says. “You got to be in Episode 5,000 of Grey’s Anatomy.” Baela gives him a reproachful glare. “What?” he asks, clueless.

“No, it’s totally cool,” you insist. “I’m really, really thrilled for you, Baela. You have to take a million pictures in Paris so I can see all the architecture and desserts and hot French dudes!”

Jace snorts. “Are French dudes even hot?” He sounds skeptical.

“You can be my date to the premiere,” Baela tells you. Jace gapes at her, incredulous. “We can pose together on the red carpet and you can do some networking! Maybe Yorgos will even like you and cast you in his next project!”

But something about the way she says it makes the prospect sound ludicrous, fantastical, fictional. Baela’s breakthrough is reality, yours is unicorns and mermaids and the Loch Ness Monster. “You are so wonderful, but you should take Jace.”

“Yeah, you should take Jace,” Jace says.

Baela pulls a knife out of the bamboo block on the kitchen counter. Her parents bought it, like they bought almost everything else in the apartment; they believe in her, lots of people do. “Do you want some cake? When’s your appointment?” The appointment you didn’t cancel, contrary to Aegon’s explicit instructions. Technically, you never agreed to, so you haven’t lied to him. That makes you feel better. Baela glances at the calendar and reads the time written there in red ink. “Oh good, not until noon. You definitely have time for cake!”

“Babe, you gotta blow out your candles first,” Jace says. Baela closes her eyes, becomes still and serene, extinguishes the tiny golden flickers of light with one delicate puff. Then she begins cutting the Funfetti cake. You get three forks from the silverware drawer. Jace hands you a plate from the cabinet as he complains about having to go to class today: Music Aesthetics, Analysis, and Philosophy.

“Just a little one, please,” you tell Baela. A moment later, she plops a skinny slice of cake onto your plate. “Thanks, Becca! Wait, no, I mean Baela. Sorry.”

She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. “Who’s Becca?”

“Aegon’s fiancée.”

“Oh, your agent’s future wife? The agent that you are definitely not into at all?”

“Yeah, that one, you got it.” You give her a wink and take a bite of cake: frosting so sweet it hurts your teeth, tiny kaleidoscopic flecks of candy like gold in a stream.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, which one are you liking the feel of?” Dr. Cunningham asks, smiling in a way that is effervescent and yet impersonal, vaguely impatient, a real estate agent type of charisma. He must be in his mid-fifties, and yet his face is nearly entirely purged of wrinkles, smooth and shiny and evenly tanned. His teeth are too perfect to not be veneers. People keep suggesting those to you too; you need more time to wrap your mind around the idea of having your canines and incisors shaved down to helpless nubs.

“Um…” You go down the line again, squeezing all three samples that are arranged on the stainless steel utility table that Dr. Cunningham wheeled over to you. “I walked in wanting the gummy bear implants, and I think I feel the same way now.”

“Excellent!” he says, wearing that same smile. His eyes, very blue, never change; they are alert yet vacuous, like the fatal error screen on a Windows computer.

“And they’re safer, aren’t they? The gummy bear ones?”

“Statistically, yes,” Dr. Cunningham agrees, somewhat briskly, as if he is eager to change the subject. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. I hardly ever see ruptures in any of my patients.”

Hardly ever, not never. “That’s good!” you say spiritedly, like a star pupil.

“As I mentioned earlier, they are a bit more expensive than the other options, but we have several financing options available.”

“My parents are paying, so no worries there.”

“Fantastic.” He’s still smiling. You kind of wish he would stop. “You want to be an actress, I assume?”

“I do, yeah! How’d you know?”

He chuckles as he rolls the small metal table away. “That’s what all the girls are doing out here, right? And if it’s not acting, it’s singing, or modelling, or…what do you call that, when you make money on TikTok or wherever?”

“Being an influencer.”

“Right,” Dr. Cunningham says. “Well, I wish you the very best of luck.” It’s chivalrous but hollow, an echo of the encouragement he’s given to thousands of women just like you, except probably more beautiful and more talented and actually getting some of the parts they audition for.

I got a part, you think, and your mood lifts a bit. Aegon finally found me one. And he believes I’ll get more.

“Is it okay if I take a look?” the ever-smiling Dr. Cunningham says, and your heart begins to pound beneath the gown you’re wearing, scratchy white polyester-blend fabric that opens in the front. But this is all standard procedure, and you knew to expect an exam, and you should not feel like you’re lining up for the firing squad.

“Of course!” you exclaim too enthusiastically; your voice cracks. You undo the tie down by your waist and the fabric across your chest and belly goes slack. Your tan TOMS wedges are scattered on the linoleum floor that’s supposed to look like wood. The sundress you wore to the appointment, patterned with large sunlit palm leaves, is folded on a chair. Your eyeshadow matches: matte green Thorns by Anastasia Beverly Hills, sparkly gold Whisper by Natasha Denona.

As Dr. Cunningham opens your gown and begins the exam, you stare at a framed print of Venice Beach on the wall, and you pretend you are there under the hot glaring daylight instead of here in a frigidly air-conditioned office being prodded and manipulated, measured not to be admired or understood but only to be improved upon.

Dr. Cunningham is saying: “Just so you’re aware, due to how firm a gummy bear implant is, we typically have to make a slightly larger incision in order to insert it. Saline and traditional silicone implants, being more flexible, can be squeezed in through a smaller opening, for example using a transaxillary incision in the underarm. But they’re also more prone to wrinkling and rippling, and they must be replaced more frequently, so that pliability comes at a cost. I think gummy bear implants are a very good choice for you.”

“And…where exactly would the incision be?” Your heartbeat is still thunderous; you can hear the scorching red blood flow throbbing in your ears. Dr. Cunningham either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it.

“We’d go in right here,” he says, skimming his gloved fingers just beneath your left breast, your raw heart just two inches away. Goosebumps prickle on your arms. “It’s what we call an inframammary incision, and it gives us more room to work with to ensure the implant is placed properly, and…”

He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilled—the jar of pens on the receptionist’s desk? the glass bowl of mints?—and heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt that’s too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she’s shrieking. She smacks him with a massive leather purse. “You can’t just go barging in on patients! What are you, some kind of druggie? We don’t keep any opioids in this office!”

Dr. Cunningham yells: “Will you call the police, Barbara?!”

“No wait, I know him,” you say, and both Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist stare hostilely at you. You ignore them and look at Aegon instead, stunned. “Hi.”

He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. “Hi. What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s just a consultation.”

“For a surgery you’re not going to have?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “How did you know I was here?”

“I just had this feeling you weren’t going to cancel,” Aegon says. “So I went to your apartment and you weren’t home, but your roommate told me where you were and gave me the address that you wrote on the calendar.”

“Oh.”

“She’s very nice. Your roommate, I mean.”

“Yeah, Baela’s cool.”

“She offered me a piece of Funfetti cake.”

“Did you take it?”

“No. I was in a hurry to get here.”

“Right.” You remain seated on the edge of the exam table with your hands clasped together in your lap. The receptionist and Dr. Cunningham’s bewildered gazes fly between you and the intruder.

Aegon sighs and nods towards the hallway that leads out to the lobby and the front door of the office. “Come on,” he says gently. “Get dressed. Let’s go.”

“I can’t,” you reply.

“Why not?”

You don’t answer; your eyes dart to the print of Venice Beach on the wall and stay there as they begin to water. Aegon crosses the room—the receptionist and Dr. Cunningham shuffle around the cramped space to keep away from him—and stops when he is standing right in front of you, his hands in the pockets of his rumpled tan jacket.

“Why not?” Aegon asks again, very softly now.

You look at him. Your voice is a quivering whisper. “I don’t want to have to give this up.” The city, the potential, the dream.

“Hey,” Aegon murmurs, leaning in close. You can smell the ocean and sunlight and Juicy Fruit gum. Strands of blonde hair, ripped from the sheen of gel, shag over his forehead. “You’re bright as hell just the way you are. You don’t need surgery to be an actress. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And immediately, you are ready to leave. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You wriggle down off of the exam table, check your gown to make sure you’re still covered, and turn to Dr. Cunningham. “I guess I’m not interested anymore.”

“Please never set foot in my office again,” he says.

“No problem,” Aegon snaps. And then to you: “I’ll meet you outside. We’ll get lunch.”

“Sure,” you reply, still a little dazed.

Aegon hurries out of the exam room before the police are summoned. Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist leave too, muttering to each other and casting you appalled glares. When you are alone, you throw off the gown and put on your bra, wedges, and sundress…and as you are smoothing the creases from the soft cotton patterned with palm leaves, you smile to yourself, kind pink heat swirling in your cheeks.

Aegon is in the parking lot and leaning against his white Chrysler Sebring convertible. He has put on his black aviator sunglasses to blot out the intense afternoon sun. Dr. Cunningham’s office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes. Across the street is a series of shops in a row, Starbucks and Neiman Marcus and Gucci. Aegon says, pointing to your 2003 Honda Accord: “I’ll drive you back to get your car later.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Chinatown,” he says, opening the passenger’s door of his Sebring. “And from now on, you listen when I tell you to do something, just like you said you would.”

“I’ll be your best client ever,” you promise, climbing into the car. The top is down, the wind blowing in from the Pacific Ocean to the west.

“I’m here for a reason. It’s not to be ignored. I can be your advocate, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I completely understand. I won’t mislead you again.”

“The Grey’s Anatomy people really liked you, by the way.”

The hope unfurls across your face like dawn over the earth. “Really?”

Aegon gives you a teasing, crooked grin. “Don’t pretend you’re shocked.” He shuts the car door, jogs over to the driver’s side, drives east through thick midday traffic.

At the same restaurant you went to the day you met, seated beside the same large fish tank, you and Aegon place the same orders: moo goo gai pan, boneless spare ribs. The waitress, Lanying, asks Aegon about how his siblings are doing before she speeds off to tend to her other customers.

Aegon watches the malevolent ember-colored oscars for a while, then taps his paper Chinese zodiac calendar, rimmed in red and gold. “Which one are you?”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. “You already know.”

But Aegon doesn’t smile; he only stares at you blankly. “What?”

“I told you about my zodiac sign. The first time we had lunch here.”

And he looks at you as if his skull is as clear as the transluscent blue-tinged water of the fish tank, all the lights on but nobody home, and for a split second you almost feel as if you don’t recognize him, as if he is a stranger wearing Aegon’s windswept blonde hair and ill-fitting clothes and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Then Aegon repossesses himself and he is flippant, casual. “Oh yeah, right. Totally. I remember now.”

But you have the sense that he doesn’t. You try to hide how much this wounds you. It must not have been memorable. It must not have meant anything to him. “I’m a dragon!” you say brightly, and hold up your hands as if they are claws, opening and closing your hooked fingers.

Now he does smile, a little preoccupied, a little forced. “Of course you are.”

You scan the calendar. “What year was Becca born?”

“Uh…1994, I think.”

“She’s a dog,” you say. You read the description silently to yourself as the tea and wonton soups are brought to the table: Loyal and honest, you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the horse or tiger. Watch out for dragons.

~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive at Aegon’s office twenty minutes early, mostly because you miss him. It’s Wednesday, June 25th, and you park your Honda on the narrow sloping street and step out into 80-degree sunlight, ambient dog barking, powerlines crossing overhead. A lady walking her chihuahua waves at you and adjusts her sunglasses. Window air conditioning units whir. The trees, ginkgos and pink trumpets and Victorian boxes and palms, are still in the bright breezeless afternoon. The skyline of Downtown is a mirage on the horizon. From the barber shop across the street, you can hear a radio playing Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias.

When you clop into the lobby in your TOMS wedges, you see that Aegon’s door is closed. At his desk, Brandon is on the landline phone and jotting notes down in his planner, his flower pen scribbling rapidly across pink paper. When he spots you, he covers the phone speaker with his hand. “Hey girl!”

“Sorry, I know I’m early. Is he busy with another client?”

“No, go on in!” Brandon reaches down to dig around in the minifridge and sets a Perrier on the ledge of his desk. You take it, thank him, and go to Aegon’s door. You are puzzled to hear people talking on the other side, muffled indistinct voices. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.

Aegon has his Nike Killshots up on his untidy desk and is playing the Nintendo 64. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Mario’s Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored. Aegon is watching the screen as he talks to a woman whose back is turned to you: tall, willowy, long dark hair. They don’t realize you’re here.

Aegon is saying as he clicks the transluscent orange Nintendo 64 controller: “That’s great, babe.”

“And the charity thing is on July 19th. I got a custom suit from Tom Ford, it’s powder blue, all you have to do is show up to the fitting.”

He sighs euphorically. “You’re the best.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shaken—not in a good way—and for some reason you feel like you’ve made some horrible mistake. The woman spins around to see what he’s looking at. She is stunning and ethereal and wearing a plain sack dress that hangs perfectly on her, a young Cher, and she smiles at you, kind and dazzling.

“Hi!” you say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m a little early, I mixed up my appointment time because I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re fine,” Aegon replies, but he’s still distracted. Mario suffocates in the maze and drops over dead. Aegon turns off the game. He clears his throat. “Uh, this is Becca.”

You shake her hand when she offers it. Gold bangle bracelets jangle on her wrist. “It’s so nice to meet you, Becca!”

“And you must be the new client!” she says warmly. “The one from…where was it, Michigan?”

“Minnesota,” you reply.

“Oh, brr!” Becca says, pretending to shiver, and you laugh.

“Yeah, I’m really happy to be here. And you’re getting married soon, I hear!”

Becca beams, clapping her hands together. “Yes! I’m so excited but so stressed. The planning is endless.”

“Are you going to do it here in the city somewhere?”

“Aegon didn’t tell you?” Becca is perhaps a tad disappointed. “It’s a destination wedding.”

Aegon says from his desk, somewhat recovered: “Turk…something.”

“Turkey?” you say doubtfully. An interesting choice.

“Turks and Caicos,” Becca clarifies.

“No way! My sister just got engaged there, she said it was gorgeous.”

Aegon asks you from his desk: “Have you ever been?”

“I wish. Not yet, maybe one day.”

“You’ll have to come to the wedding!” Becca says cheerfully.

“Me?!” It’s ridiculous; you’re a nobody, you barely know her, you have a crush on her future husband.

“Yeah, all of Aegon’s clients are invited. Aren’t they, babe?” Becca glances at him, and then her eyes catch there and they stare at each other, Aegon slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, Becca standing next to you, and there are several slow awkward seconds of silence. Aegon gets a piece of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack on his desk and shoves it into his mouth. Becca looks at you and then back to Aegon, who is pretending to organize the clutter on his desk. You notice for the first time that there is a ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples there.

“I thought you didn’t like those,” you say to alleviate the tension that you don’t understand.

“Well, Brando eats them,” Aegon explains.

“That makes sense.”

“And I guess they’re growing on me.”

“They’re really good for you,” you say. “Helps to balance out all the boneless spare ribs.”

Now Becca is studying you, and instead of being warm she is now cold and rigid and perplexed. After a while she asks stiffly: “What are you two up to today?”

“We’re going to the Flower District,” Aegon tells her as he rolls his gum wrapper into a ball between his palms. “I’ll be done in a few hours, I just have to get some current pics of her to send to people. So we’re going to do a quick impromptu photoshoot.”

Becca nods, still scrutinizing you. You open your Perrier and start gulping it so you have an excuse not to talk.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Aegon asks Becca, and she perks up a bit.

“Beef bourguignon. It’s a new recipe, I’m really excited to try it.”

Aegon pretends to drool. “Amazing. I can’t wait.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Becca says, and goes to leave.

“It was so nice to meet you!” you call after her.

Becca replies curtly without stopping: “Yup. You too.” You hear the two-inch heels of her gold sandals tapping on the scuffed wood floor and then the rough opening and closing of the front door of the half-duplex.

“What just happened?” you ask Aegon.

“Nothing,” he says, standing from his desk. His shoes match his shirt, a green plaid Ralph Lauren button-up that isn’t tucked into his jeans. His hair is slicked back and shiny with gel.

“I’m sorry, did I…did I do something wrong…?”

He sighs. “No.”

You toy anxiously with your Perrier bottle. You don’t want Aegon to fire you; you don’t want to lose him. He’s the only person who understands. “You should have told me we were going to be taking pictures. I would have done my hair and worn normal eyeshadow.”

He smiles. “I wanted you to look like you.” Then he heads off to his Chrysler Sebring, and you follow him.

The Flower District is on the other side of Chinatown in Downtown Los Angeles. It’s the largest wholesale flower market in the country, six blocks of vendors selling every plant imaginable, from ordinary daisies and tulips to bamboo shoots, ferns, herbs, cactuses, succulents, baby trees, house plants like monstera and ivy. The aroma is overwhelming; when you breathe deeply, you imagine prismatic blossoms bursting up through the alveoli of your lungs, roses and irises and calla lilies and orchids. Aegon weaves through the aisles and frowns at the magnificent flowers, none of them right for some reason. You are endlessly pausing to sniff petals and gingerly graze your fingerprints over leaves. Aegon has to backtrack to find you when you stop to watch a demonstration of a Venus flytrap being fed.

“Here we go!” Aegon announces triumphantly when at last he is satisfied, and he lifts the large bouquet from a plastic bucket for you to see: massive sunflowers, water dripping off the cut stems. “They’re sunny, just like you. You like them?”

“I love them,” you say, taking the bouquet and beaming. Aegon pays in cash.

Outside under the harsh cloudless sunlight, he poses you in front of one of the flower shops, pedestrians walking behind you and a rainbow myriad of blooms out of focus. He uses his phone to take a series of photos, some up-close and some full-body shots, and you had assumed it would be awkward but it’s not, Aegon is making jokes and you are laughing and trying weird angles and spinning around so the skirt of your sundress swishes despite the lack of a breeze.

“Cool, got some good ones,” Aegon says, scanning through his phone. “We’re done.”

“What should I do with these?” you ask about the sunflowers. “Do you want them back?”

“Why would I want them back?”

“I don’t know. You paid for them, it feels weird for me to keep them.”

“They’re yours. Enjoy.”

You inhale the faint floral scent that emanates from the yellow petals. “I’m going to put them in a vase on the kitchen counter and buy them flower food so they live as long as possible. And I’m going to talk to them, because that’s supposed to be good for plants.”

Aegon chuckles. “You are ridiculous.” He slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans and sees an ice cream vendor up the street, then gestures for you to come with him. The ice cream is allegedly homemade and only comes in five flavors. Aegon orders for you both. “Hi, one vanilla and one strawberry.”

The vendor scoops the ice cream into two waffle cones. Again, as he always does, Aegon pays in cash. You locate an available bench and you and Aegon sit together with the sunflower bouquet lying between you, watching the pedestrians stroll by with their friends and partners and children and dogs.

“Tastes better when you make it,” Aegon says, licking melting strawberry ice cream from his waffle cone. “I might have another job for you.”

“Really?! Yay!”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but you said you’d take anything.”

“I definitely will.”

“It’s a music video for Maroon 5,” Aegon cautions. “It’s honestly pretty uninspiring and stupid, but it’s work. It’s another last-minute thing, at first the girlfriend of one of the band dudes was supposed to be in the video but I guess now they’re fighting all the time and the guy doesn’t like the idea of having a permanent reminder of her if they break up, which seems likely.’”

“I want to do it,” you say immediately. “When?”

“They’re planning to film the first week in July at a mansion in Beverly Hills. They already have a male actor cast. And you don’t even have to kiss him or anything, you get to argue with him in the first scene and then the rest of it is mostly you just moping around the mansion in designer outfits. Again, it’s super unoriginal. Boy and girl have a miscommunication and split, boy regrets it afterwards, they both secretly and photogenically yearn for each other. It’s very Edward leaving Bella in New Moon.”

“Sounds fantastic! Do I get to meet Maroon 5?”

Aegon is disappointed. “Are you a fan?”

“Well…not really.” You both laugh. “But I feel like it’s always cool to meet celebrities in real life.”

“Yes, you get to meet them.”

You cheer. “You are the most talented agent ever!” You take a lick of your ice cream; it’s almost gone now. You look over at Aegon, serious now. “You’re the only person who doesn’t think I’m absolutely insane for trying to do this.”

He crunches his waffle cone with his teeth. “Your roommate’s an actress, right? She must get it.”

You shrug. “Baela is confident, and magnetic, and she wants to be famous. She’s very obviously meant to be in this industry, and agents and directors respond to her. But I’m not like that. Most people don’t notice me. And that’s okay, I don’t really want to be famous. I just want to be able to be a working actor and get to stay here. If I’m not making significant progress by the end of the year, I have to choose between going back to Minnesota or being disowned and impoverished.”

Aegon watches you, thoughtful, maybe a little sad. “I like you the way you are, sunshine.”

You smile shyly at him. “Thanks. I like you too.”

“And I don’t want you to change. It’s horrible to watch someone disappear.” He devours the rest of his waffle cone. “You know…I think helping you get to where you’re going, and making sure it’s done the right way…that will be the last good thing I ever do here.”

“You don’t have to retire.”

He shakes his head. “Circumstances change. Priorities change.”

“Do you want kids?” If Becca is in her thirties, perhaps now is the time to start planning for that.

“No,” Aegon says, flinching. “Definitely no kids. You’re anti-horse, I’m anti-kid.”

“Then what’s the rush to leave L.A.?”

“It’s the right time.”

“Not for me.” You grin. “I just got here. You can’t abandon me yet.”

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of before I go. I’ll get someone I trust to sign you.”

“But I don’t want another agent.”

“The music video director asked to meet you before filming,” Aegon says, deflecting. “It’ll be quick, just ten or fifteen minutes. We’ll swing by his office on the way back to Elysian Park.”

“Okay,” you agree. You take a makeup compact out of your Patricia Nash purse and use the mirror to make sure you don’t have any ice cream on your nose or chin.

“I haven’t worked with him before,” Aegon says. “But I’ve heard very good things and obviously I’ll be there at the shoot.”

You snap your compact shut. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

In a spacious, glass-walled office in Downtown, the director introduces himself as Dan Sacco. He is tall and broad through the shoulders and extremely welcoming, offering you drinks and snacks and asking about your hometown as Aegon stands in the corner of the room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes watchful. Two jobs in two weeks; Aegon is a miracle worker.

When you get home to your apartment, it’s empty. Baela and Jace must have gone out somewhere for dinner. You put the sunflowers in a vase and then scroll through Instagram. Aegon has posted a new story: a photo of you standing with your bouquet and smiling, not sexy or alluring or arrogant but simply happy, and he must be very knowledgeable about filters because you think you look great.

Future Hollywood Walk of Fame star recipient, Aegon has added as a caption. If you want to book her, you know where to find me. He finished with a sunflower emoji. You press the heart button in the bottom right corner of the screen to like the story. Your own heart is racing now in the best way possible, feverish and loud, intoxicated, needful, seams ready to rupture.

You look up Becca’s Instagram, but her account is private. You send her a follow request. She doesn’t accept it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night before the shoot, there is a knock at your door. It’s 8:30 p.m., a strange hour, not early enough for Amazon deliveries or a visit from one of Jace’s eccentric PhD program friends, not late enough for a drunk tenant to have mistaken your apartment for their own. When you open the door, you are at first so shocked you can’t place him. Then you remember where you know the hulking man in the tan suit from. It’s Dan, the director of the music video.

“Oh my God, hi!” you welcome him. You have just gotten home from Cold Stone Creamery and are still in your drab grey uniform. You always drive to and from work now, per Aegon’s insistence. You promised you’d listen, and you’re trying your best. Jace is in Baela’s bedroom banging on his Yamaha keyboard. From the velvet orange couch in the living room where she is watching The Vampire Diaries, Baela peeks curiously over at where your visitor fills up the doorway.

Dan seems pleased by your enthusiasm. “Hello again.”

“Can I help you with something? I know the shoot is tomorrow, I’m really excited. I was about to get ready for bed so I can go to sleep early and be well-rested. There’s not a problem with the music video, is there? Please don’t say it’s cancelled or that I’m fired or something.”

Dan chuckles, a deep slow rumble. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you a heads up that we added a scene to the script.” He holds up a thin packet of papers held together by a single staple. “I’m not allowed to leave it in an unsecured location, so I have to take it with me when I go. But I thought you should be aware so you’re prepared when you show up to set.”

“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of you!” You take the packet and flip through it, skimming for an unfamiliar scene. “Did you get my address from Aegon? Or Brandon, his receptionist?”

“It was in your file that they sent over,” Dan says, perhaps a bit guardedly, and before you can ask anything else you stumble upon the scene, and your stomach drops. The actress—me, you think, that’s not some other woman, that’s me—will be lying in a vast empty bathtub, soaked hair, dripping skin, black lingerie, writhing and whimpering as she mourns the loss of her lover.

“Um…the bathtub scene?” you squeak.

“It’s going to be so cinematic,” Dan says, his large hands painting a picture with dramatic gestures. “Sunlight streaming in through a window, your skin glowing, you’ve drained the tub but you’re too heartbroken to get up so you’re just sprawled there, still drenched from the bathwater. Obviously it would make more sense if you were naked, but…we can’t do that in a music video.” He laughs. “But the aesthetic will be divine, like sexy mourning widow. And we’ll get all kinds of shots, you crying, you angry, you pining, you flirting and beckoning the camera closer, and we can get creative, you can just kind of crawl around all over the tub and we’ll see what you come up with.”

You gaze at the script until all the words vanish, imaging a room full of men watching you roll around in underwear, black lace wet and clinging to your skin, no secrets, nowhere to disappear. I can’t do that. But you can’t say no. “Is there going to be a woman on set to…you know, to…like…supervise, or, or something…?”

“You mean an intimacy coordinator?”

“Yes, thank you, that’s the term I was looking for.” Does Aegon know about this? He has to, right?

“Well, it’s not a sex scene,” Dan says rationally. “It’s not even a kissing scene. So we would never pay to have an intimacy coordinator around for this, it’s completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.” I can’t do that. I can’t do that. You feel nauseous; you feel dizzy, like you might stagger if you try to move.

“Look, if you’re uncomfortable, that’s totally cool,” Dan says. “I get it, a job like this isn’t for everyone. I have a list of backups I can call, and I can find somebody else—”

“No!” you cry out, then give the script back to Dan and manage a smile. “No, sorry, I was just a little confused, but I understand now. Thank you for letting me know about the new scene, and I can absolutely handle it.”

“Great.” He grins proudly. “I knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Dan lumbers down the hallway, and you close the door when he’s out of sight. Baela asks from the couch: “What do they want you to do?”

You swallow noisily. “Roll around essentially naked in a bathtub.”

Baela nods; she doesn’t seem alarmed. Is this normal? Are you unreasonable? “Bikini?”

“Lingerie.”

“Want to know a trick?” she says. “After you shave, run a Stridex pad over your skin. I have a container of them in the bathroom cabinet, use as many as you want. It’ll burn at first, but it kills any bacteria and prevent razor burn. No bumps or ingrown hairs!”

“Thanks,” you reply weakly.

Baela squints at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

“It’s not that bad,” she says reassuringly. “I know it seems like the end of the world, but once you do a nude scene or a sex scene once, the nerves go away and it’s just another day at work. You’ll get through it. You’ll do an incredible job.”

I don’t want to give up the dream. I don’t want to leave Los Angeles. I don’t want to leave Aegon.

“You’re probably right,” you tell Baela, and you pretend to be fine so she won’t worry, or pity you, or be further convinced that you don’t belong here.

You shower, shave, scrub your skin with stinging Stridex pads, and long after you were supposed to be asleep you’re still staring up at your bedroom ceiling, a deep blue shadowscape with no stars.

[radiant-absolute-radiance]

My headcanon on how Bedman‘s abilities work and why it was specifically Zato who figured out his mind reading is that Bedman doesn‘t actually see around him, he sees through other people‘s thoughts what they are seeing. Zato is blind and his thoughts are kind of weird from loosing his emotions after being brought back from the dead. Bedman could have had a difficult time reading exactly what Zato was up to!

He remembers environments and the more angles he gets to see the more detailed his mind photogrammetry construction of the environment he’s in gets.

Also I think the reason why he can talk to Robo-Ky is because Bedman clearly is piloting his own robot with his powers so he ought to be able to communicate with machines.

[persephozee]

currently DISTRAUGHT over the fact that Marley chose to send 4 child soldiers with families/parents on the most difficult mission in Marleyan history while keeping 2 warriors in Marley.

1 with a disabled single father

and 1 orphan

because they're the easiest to take advantage of. nobody can protect them.