#also it was his first play. and there was a dog there

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING WONWOO INCLUDES…. — sfw

• he always makes sure you’re stocked up with your favorite books.

• him still complimenting you even when he doesn’t have his glasses on and he can’t see a thing.

• reading in bed together late at night.

• sometimes he reads to you even if you’re not interested in his genre of books whatsoever.

• his voice lulling you to sleep because it’s so deep, gentle, and calm.

• him being very confused when you ask him if he would still love you if you were a worm cause why tf would you be a worm ????

• admiring you like he admires dino (iykyk).

• he’s such a good listener that you always find yourself venting to him about all your problems.

• he tries to teach you how to play video games (it doesn’t work, but he thinks you’re cute whenever you get irritated about being killed for the hundredth time).

• he does the dishes whenever you cook.

• contrary to popular belief, he’s very slick with his words and pickup lines.

• sometimes looks at you like you’ve grown two heads whenever you try and make a joke.

• he has an sd card for his camera reserved for photos of you only.

• calm bf x calm gf dynamic.

• you want a kitten. he knows he should say no, but just can’t resist your cute puppy dog eyes.

• very helpful when it comes to your assignments for university. a hundred percent the type to do it for you if you end up falling asleep.

• also the type to make sure you’re well fed and taking much needed mental breaks when studying.

• he keeps a polaroid photo of you in his wallet.

• wonwoo will ALWAYS immediately put his game controller down and give you his full attention whenever you talk to him — no matter how well he was doing or how soon the game was about to end.

• he’s very quick to take the responsibilities off of your shoulders and put it on his own.

• he never fails to laugh at your jokes, even when they’re not funny.

• your number one supporter.

• your parents absolutely adore him and think he’s such a gentleman.

• he’s very quick to fold and give in whenever you two get into arguments, even if he was in the right. he just wants it to be over and have you in his arms again.

• he buys you the most thoughtful gifts.

• he’s the best person when it comes to having deep and meaningful talks.

• all your worries wash away whenever you’re with him.

• you confessed your feelings to him first.

• he’s soooo reassuring whenever you get jealous. you know your boyfriend is ridiculously attractive, but the amount of women AND sometimes men who have their eyes on him irks you a lil.

• he prefers to just call you instead of text, tbh he just likes to hear your voice.

• you practically DROWN in his hoodies and shirts because his shoulders are so damn wide.

• “girlifies” his apartment for you whenever you spend the night (mingyu isn’t too happy about it).

• he’s always encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone and take risks, vice versa.

[earthtooz]

x : HAPPY ACCIDENT :*+ﾟ

in which: you let phainon know the consequences of when he doesn't give you any attention.

warnings: 1.2k wc, fluff, phainon is very golden retriever coded in this and of course very down bad, gn!reader, mydei appears, i already said this but like i said, HE IS DOWN BAD.

a/n: the p in phainon stands for puppy or pathetic, or maybe both. btw i haven't played the story quest thumbs up.

You should feel bad about unintentionally conditioning Phainon like an obedient dog- you just didn’t expect him to take it so seriously!

The incident happened less than a week ago, when you walked into the courtyard in search of the Chrysos Heir, and he was exactly where you expected. The resounding, piercing sound of blades colliding was the first tell that the man you wanted to find was indeed there, and the second was when you rounded the corner to find him shirtless and shining with sweat under the gentle sunlight. He had been there for hours already, and as much as you admire his dedication and diligence, you also wonder if he’s been training a little too hard recently, dedicating substantial hours of the day into refining his skills. 

It’s been making you feel lonely. 

The last time you saw him was before noon, and it's been hours since then! You can only entertain yourself by working and reading and managing affairs for so long.

He spots you in his periphery and waves enthusiastically, a gesture you return with a calmer one before you find a marble bench under the shade to sit on. Even if it’s Phainon’s undivided attention you want, watching him spar is still far more exciting than whatever document that sits unread on your desk. 

Half an hour later, Phainon dismisses the soldier he was sparing with, the two of them chattering briefly before the snow-haired approaches you, his muscles flexing with every step he took. 

“Hey, you,” you greet with a smile before standing up, raising your arms over your head to stretch.

“I missed you,” he murmurs before intertwining his arms around your torso, allowing your arms to fall around his neck comfortably. 

“You should bathe,” you say before parting, his skin still hot and sticky with sweat. 

“Do I smell?” 

“Awfully.” 

He frowns at you. “That’s not very nice.” 

“I’m only kidding,” you giggle, “you smell like a bed of fresh roses, just extremely sweaty and… testosterone-filled.” 

“I shall go wash soon, then. Care to join me?” 

“Do you invite everyone to bathe with you, Phainon?” 

“Only the ones I really like, so, please?” He’s pleading at you with those eyes of his, so bright, so innocent, so hard to say no to. 

Well, normally you have a hard time saying no, especially to an offer as tempting as bathing with your lover, but you remember your petty feelings of how he paid more attention to his claymore today, rather than you, so you decide to give him a piece of your mind. It’s what he deserves. 

You hum in exaggerated consideration, even scrunching your nose to make it seem like you were thinking hard, keeping him on his toes. 

“Pretty please?” The hero insists, anticipation shining in those bright orbs. 

“Depends on how well you behave,” you negotiate. “Now, sit down and change your shoes, I’ll get your clothes.” 

He pouts at you, signalling his dissatisfaction. “Alright.” 

You leave to pick up his outerwear from where he discarded it in the courtyard, probably thrown aside when it got too stuffy. Returning to him, the pout is still as present, and he seems to refuse to make eye contact with you, trying to get you to crack.

So, you drop the pile of clothes beside him and counter with a game of your own.

Standing between his legs, both of your hands go to rest on his cheeks, the skin warm and flushed underneath yours. Gently tilting Phainon’s head up, you think you hear his breath hitch as he obeys, looking up at you with those glossy eyes. Gone was the petulance, back was the puppy-dog expression as he stares at you with wonder, and you’re 90% sure that if he had a tail, it’d be vigorously swishing behind him.

He just might be the most simple man you know. Telling him that would only displease him, though, primarily because he doesn’t like it when you talk about other men. 

You giggle softly at the thought as you gently brush stray strands of hair away from his face. 

“I only accompany men who are good to me to the bathhouse,” you muse.

“I’m amazing to you- the best,” he flaunts. “Right?” 

Instead of responding, you slowly lean closer towards him, minimising the gap between your faces. First, you close your eyes when your nose brushes against his, and you keep going until your lips are so painstakingly close that you can feel his graze yours, skin ghosting against skin as you lure him in. Then, just before you can give him what he wants, you draw back, leaving Phainon to chase after a piece of a paradise you won’t grant. 

When he realises that the anticipated kiss wasn’t coming, his eyes slowly blink open. 

“Good boys don’t let their partner feel neglected by training for hours and hours,” you mumble, brushing his hair back before deserting him completely, letting your hands fall back to your sides before cruelly walking away. “You need to learn your lesson, Phainon.”

Still in a daze, he only just registers what you were doing before shooting to his feet. “Hey!” 

Leaving his precious claymore and clothes behind, he chases after your retreating figure.

Effortlessly, the Chrysos Heir catches up and winds his arms around your waist like a tight coil. “Y/n, darling, my light, I’m sorry, you’re right, I have committed a great dishonour today, I will amend it with my life.” 

Humoured, you turn to face him, a melting pot of determination and desperation swirling in those aquamarine eyes. “Well, you do not need to go that far, Deliverer.” 

“So then… a kiss? Or two? Or three? Please?” 

“How about you kiss that claymore instead? Since you spend so much time with it.” 

He whines in your ear, refusing to let you go when you try to slip away by pushing against his very muscular, very sturdy, and very naked chest. 

You spend a good few minutes rejecting his every plea, utterly amused by his growing desperation and how he offered the most preposterous things on Amphoreus for you to forgive him. So you pushed your luck as far as you could before giving Phainon what he wanted, and he breathed you in like air, insisting on wanting more again and again as he pulled you so close you thought you would merge into him.

When you feel his hands roam down your body, tracing your curves and lingering on your hips, you break away before he could get any more carried away.

“Next time you see me while training, you should know what to do, right?” Was all you said that day before moving on, going back to the courtyard to collect his items for him because he was too dazed to do it himself.

Now, you’re left wondering how hard that sentence hit him as Phainon obediently sits down, staring at you with intense eyes that indicated he wanted something from you. He was sparing with Prince Mydei a mere second ago, how did he drop his weapon as soon as you walked in and just… plopped down on the bench like that was the most natural thing in the world? And the other Chrysos Heir just agreed? 

Was there something odd in the air today? Normally these two would spar until there were chips in their weapons.  

Mydei gave you a firm nod in greeting when he walked past and you returned it with a slight bow, still left wondering what on Amphoreus just occurred as you watch his retreating back. 

Until a certain hero clears his throat, causing you to tear your gaze away and at your main source of bewilderment. 

“Did you send Mydei away because… of me?” You ask. 

He nods. 

“Why?” 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape before the realisation hits. “I… I guess? I was hoping to watch you two spar.” 

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink, only stares you. When you don’t give him what he wants, Phainon impatiently pats his spread thighs and you oblige, stopping before him and letting your hands rest on his face. 

“What am I going to do with you?” You whisper against his lips before sealing the words against his lips.

Well, this was your fault, after all, so you should just do your best to make him happy.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

“Wanna go play?” - Austin Butler

summary: story of dad austin, you and your shy babygirl

You couldn’t exactly remember your kindergarten years, except for the fact that you mostly hung out with your teacher, Miss Paula. She played the guitar and taught you and other children different songs every week. You were her right hand, always clinging onto her, not because you were particularly shy, but simply because the other kids didn’t quite get you like she did.

Austin was a mama’s boy his entire school years, always begging the teachers to call his mama to pick him up earlier. The memories of him eating his beloved peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his car with his mama, were still fresh in his mind. Those were his favorite moments with her - having lunch together and sharing silly stories, while waiting for his next audition.

Your babygirl was a mix of that. Matilda was clingy, just like you were, yet she felt a very emotional connection to both her parents. You were very affectionate parents, there was no denying that, but the way she would grip your sweater or Austin’s arm was cute yet a little sad too. You were happy she was aware of her parents´ love, but this constant fear of being “abandoned” concerned you a little.

The first week of kindergarten consisted of parents and their children hanging there for a couple of hours, helping their child get accustomed to their surroundings. Matilda didn’t really care about cubbies, small chairs or the lego set in the corner. She was happily snuggling her daddy in his lap.

You extended your legs in front of you and sat up, catching a dog plushie in the distance. Immediately turning to Matilda, you pointed at the toy. “Look, baby, there’s a puppy!”

Austin brushed his finger on her cheek, wanting her to turn your way, but she just seemed to disappear into your husband’s grey sweater. He turned your way and gave you a small smile. “You tried everything, baby.”, you huffed at his answer and moved to sit closer to them.

You leaned behind Austin and brought your bag closer, setting it in your lap. “This shouldn’t fail me.”, you murmured to yourself and pulled out Tilly’s favorite toy. Another dog, one in worse shape, but nonetheless her favorite one. “Hey, bee… Look there’s Millie.”, at the sound of her pet’s name, Matilda turned around swiftly.

“Millie!”, she said with grabby hands and you happily handed it to her. She snuggled it close to her chest and kissed its little head. You hoped this would help her gain courage and go play with the other kids.

“Look Tilly, that girl also has a puppy just like you.”, Austin pointed at a little girl drawing by the tables. Matilda looked at her pet and then back at her daddy.

“Daddy, that’s kitty.”, she pointed out, and glancing at the little girl’s toy, it was surely a kitten. You teasingly shook your head at Austin.

“Yeah, daddy, that’s a kitten not a puppy.”, you murmured and bumped your shoulder into his, making your little girl laugh with glee. Austin shook his head and moved his eyes from Matilda to you.

“Mama’s a little crazy.”, he muttered and went on to bump his shoulder into yours. The two of you rocking back and forth, bumping shoulders in a teasing manner - a little comedy for your daughter, which you were used to do on a daily basis.

The little girl sitting by the coloring table looked up and locked eyes with Tilly, who seemed to immediately tense up in Austin’s arms. He looked up and smiled softly at the little wave meant for your baby.

“Wanna go play?”, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. You smiled at the exchange and looked for the girl’s parents, who weren’t sitting too far away either. Matilda looked up to her daddy, the material of his soft sweater fisted in her tiny hand.

“Daddy go with me?”, she murmured and you swore your heart burst right then and there. The emotions hidden behind those few little words made your eyes glisten with tears. Austin wordlessly nodded, his hand sneaking to hold yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

Tilly stood up on wobbly legs, her trusted toy in her hold as she waited for her daddy to stand up as well. Your heart melted at the way she was already looking up, waiting for him with her little hand extended out. Austin took it with a little smile and walked with her, Millie the plushie clutched to her chest.

Once they reached the little girl, Matilda stopped and immediately looked up for her daddy’s reassurance. “Say hello, honey.”, he encouraged her.

“Hi.”, she said quietly. The little girl smiled and waved at her again.

“I’m Jenna.”, she said with a big smile. “And this is Anna, my kitty.”, she presented her little toy to Tilly, who immediately looked up at Austin.

“Daddy, that’s a kitty.”, Matilda pointed out again and Austin simply nodded, the embarrassment from earlier staining his cheeks again. She took you by surprise as she let go of Austin’s hand and turned to fully face Jenna. “This is my daddy.”, she patted his leg and then she turned to point at you. “That’s mommy.”, and if you weren’t crying by then, you were now.

Jenna also pointed at her parents, who happily waved at their little girl. Austin crouched down beside Tilly. “Wanna sit and color with her?”, he murmured in her ear. Matilda felt freer - no longer blocked like she was before. So she nodded, setting Millie on the table and pulled out the tiny chair - all by herself.

Austin was all smiles once she started communicating with Jenna, occasionally pointed at him. “I draw you daddy. And mommy.”, he obediently nodded and smiled, answering random questions and laughing at silly jokes.

“Tilly?”, his baby turned his way. “I gotta go keep mama company, okay? We don’t want her sad all be herself right?”, Matilda’s eyes shot to you and then back to her daddy.

“No mama sad.”, she murmured and then looked back at her new friend. Her mind was made up. She patted Austin’s arm and shooed him away. “Daddy go, thank you.”

Austin kept the light chuckle for himself and briefly watched her independently chat with the little girl.  He stood up and breathed out, his long legs taking him to right where he belonged: beside you.

You smiled at him and almost wished the room was empty so you could kiss him with freedom. He crouched down and sat down beside you, his hands behind him and his legs in front of him.

 “You’re back.”, you said quietly, your accent a poor tribute to the Terminator. Austin let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head.

“I am back.”, he said to you, his accent being quite impressive. You briefly tore his eyes from him and motioned at Matilda, who was still happily chatting and drawing with Jenna.

“Who would’ve thought?”, you said, unable to keep your eyes from your baby.

Austin smiled, following your gaze. “Another good day of parenting, I’d say.”, at his words, you couldn’t help but look at him, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I agree.”, you curled your fingers into a fist and moved it in his direction. He laughed and bumped his own fist with yours.

“A good day of parenting indeed.”

A/N: imagined Austin holding Matilda like in the third pic 😩🎀 also in the kitty interview he did ask the kitten if it wanted to go play with the others cats 🥺 I´m in love with the man

MASTERLIST austin masterlist

austin 2025 digital calendar 🎀 austin phone case💋

[witherby]

Thinking naughty Brucie Wayne thoughts cause you KNOW he sluts around in order to maintain that playboy reputation.

Imagining Brucie on an evening gossip show and he's playing a game where he's sharing light-hearted secrets with the host. It's called some shit like...I dunno, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours!"

"Okay, we gotta be careful with the wording here because we're on live television," the host laughs, "but I have a question."

"Ask me anything, baby, I'm an open book," Bruce purrs. The live studio audience whistles and cheers.

"What's your darkest sexual fantasy? I'll tell you mine —"

"IF YOU TELL ME YOURS!!" The audience shouts, clapping and cheering with ridiculous enthusiasm. Bruce, who has impeccable control over his body's nervous system, turns beet red and covers his face. His heartbeat is still as steady as a war drum. World's Greatest Detective and also World's Best motherfuckin Actor.

"oh shit," he mutters. The cheering gets even louder. "I can't say it out loud. I've never told anybody this before, it's insane."

The host is Locked The Fuck In. Exclusive information nobody else has about Brucie Wayne, Gotham's precious prince? He can smell the trending hashtags already.

"Oh?" He goads, grinning and leaning forward in his chair. "Is it really bad? Brucie, you dog! I didn't know you had it in you! We gotta know, now!"

"Skip," Bruce says shyly, "next question!"

The audience boos and starts chanting some iteration of "tell us! Tell us!" The host shushes them and says it's fine, he'll go first and they'll both be a little embarrassed about it. No big deal, it's just a fun game! What's a little spicy secret between friends, we're all friends here, it's fine!

The host's is boring. Something like Toes or edible underwear. Bruce shyly says he can't say it, and asks if he can write it down instead. The host is like yes, absolutely, someone fetch this man a pen and paper RIGHT NOW.

Brucie writes it down. The host reads it. He gasps.

"Okay everybody, shhh. This says...I want to — BRUCE?"

Bruce reddens more and is as curled up as he can possibly get in his big chair. The audience is feral at this point.

"It says "I want a priest to give his virginity to me." Bruce Thomas Wayne!!!"

There's an uproar. People are whistling. Women are screaming. Catholics are clutching their pearls. There's so much clapping. Some people are laughing. When everybody settles down enough to let him explain, Bruce, still red in the face, just stares meekly at the ground and mutters:

"I dunno, it's so wicked. I wanna be like Lucifer with the apple. I want a son of God to turn away from His light and be tempted into my bed. If God is actually homophobic and being gay gets you sent to Hell, — first of all, fuck that guy — and second of all, at the very least I want him to get a taste of Heaven in the sheets, y'know?"

#DamnedByBrucie is the number one trending topic for the next four days. Priests are coming out of the woodwork and sending him genuine offers to take their virginity. Hal buys a priest outfit immediately. Bruce is so down to roleplay this even though that wasn't even close to his darkest sexual fantasy.

[samsxowboyhat]

Redacted Actor AU Headcanons

Lovely’s actor's tears looked so real during the inversion that Vincent’s actor had to keep asking if they were okay.

David and Darlin’s actors are actually siblings.

Asher’s actor originally auditioned for the role of Guy, but the director thought it would be better for Baabe’s actor to play Asher since they were already together.

Ivan’s actor repeatedly had to check on Baby’s actor after a scene because he genuinely thought he had hurt them.

Gavin’s jokes are unscripted due to his actor forgetting his lines, but it never gets re-filmed because it fits Gavin’s character.

Caelum’s actor was in a school play that the director attended and was impressed with him, but due to him being too young to portray Caelum, he was placed in smaller productions until he was old enough to play the role(He instantly bonded with Freelancer and Gavin’s actors).

Vega’s actor actually shared the Vega role with his twin brother after Vega lost his memories, so it could feel like Vega was a different person.

The Shaw pack members are actually childhood friends (David’s actor wouldn’t take his role unless the others could also be placed in the pack roles).

Geordi and Cutie’s actors both attend K-pop concerts together.

Aggro is actually Milo’s actor's cat (his actor was placed in a room with a bunch of cats, and Aggro was most comfortable with him).

The D.A.M.N crew's actors didn’t even know each other at first (they each had a scene with one another, then got the bowling scene together and bonded over time).

Porter’s and Treasure’s actors don’t have any romantic feelings for each other, but they do bond with each other on set.

Quinn’s actor actually had more scenes, but the actor became uncomfortable with Quinn’s character, so most of it got cut.

The inversion was the hardest and most expensive scene to film.

Freelancer’s actor actually had to kiss Huxley’s, Damien’s, and Lasko’s actors before being paired with Gavin’s actor because they looked more comfortable kissing each other.

Darlin’s actor didn’t have romantic feelings for Sam’s actor, simply loving his presence until later in production (nobody ever knew about it except David’s actor).

Lovely’s actor hates slap scenes because they always feel like they hit too hard whenever they see the shock on their co-star's face (they immediately apologize afterward).

The Friendsgiving episode was actually real (the D.A.M.N crew didn’t have time to see their families due to filming for the inversion and the E&E games, so they just spent it together).

At one point during filming, the shifters were actually going to be large dogs, but they didn’t look right on camera, so green screens were used instead.

Sweetie’s actor is never aware of Azmidi’s actors actions due to the director wanting actual fear from them

(I’ve never actually had an answer for this I don’t think but does the caller actually have a name? I’ve seen people on tumblr calling him Azmidi but I’ve also seen others calling him John/gen q)

[ogrepoppenangleaksofficial]

(waves hand) hi hello i . have no clue what this account is about, it's entertainingly incomprehensible as I scroll through it. could i have a quick rundown?

OK OK HERES AL ONG ANSWER ABOUT WHAT THIS BLOG IS

This account is a behind-the-scenes leaks account for the animation company Ogre Poppenang. Ogre Poppenang came out of the Bruva Alfabusa YouTube channel (see below)

The YouTube channel started off making comedic animations based in the Warhammer 40,000 (a.k.a Warhammer, Warhammer 40k) universe under the series name of "If the Emperor had a Text to Speech Device" where the titular Emperor of Man Kind spoke through a Text to Speech voice synthesizer. The Emperor was/is a key figure to the overall meta plot of the Warhammer 40k universe, and as such was the perfect vessel for alot of jokes and off brand humor as seen from the posts on this blog.

This is all SEVERAL years in the past (as of writing this explanation) and Ogre Poppenang no longer works on the If the Emperor had a Text to Speech Device project due to several long winded and exhausting reasons. The primary one being that the parent company that owns Warhammer 40,000, Games Workshop, has had a not so solid Fan Content policy in place for the last several years that acts as a great deterrent to anyone that wants to make long form and elaborate cool fan content.

In the CURRENT year, Ogre Poppenang has moved onto a few different series.

The first, and primary, of which being Hunter: the Parenting (HTP). Its an animated series that follows a cell of Vampire Hunters within the World of Darkness universe from Paradox Interactive and White Wolf. HTP follows the D clan which consists of Big-D the experienced hunter Patriarch, his son Door, an elder veteran and military man, and Door's son Boy, Marckus another son of Big-D and a self assured red-headed inventor and his spouse whom everyone likes much more then Marckus. The family is directly inspired by Ogre Poppenang's previous work with If the Emperor Had a Text to Speech Device as it was believed that many of the characters could thrive outside of the limitations set on them by the Warhammer 40k universe.

The second is Half-Life: Zero Viscosity. As the title suggests it takes place in Valve's Half-Life universe. Instead of grand adventures of The One Free Man, the series focus' in on Gus, a survivor and ex-forklift technician from the Black Mesa Research Facility as he tries to survive the extra dimensional Combine occupation of earth alongside Shock Trooper, an anxiety filled four armed and mono-eyed alien, Pit Drone, a dog, and Doctor Bags, another survivor from Black Mesa who has joined a Resistance movement against the Combine.

LASTLY Ogre Poppenang also produces Norfolk Wizard Game, a Mage: the Ascensions TTRPG live play chronicle set within the same World of Darkness universe as Hunter: the Parenting.

Norfolk Wizard Game follows four humans that have experienced their "Awakenings" where they find themselves now capable of altering the reality around them and plunging feet first into the deep end of inter-dimensional battles between demons, aliens, the Government, and other creatures of the night.

There is also a monkey, some juggalos, and Clippy featured prominently in the series.

[ablobwhowrites]

When I say I NEED that fanfic where reader keeps them in their house I MEAN IT.

(For the first post of this kinda ideas is here. But this is kinda more of explaining the idea of this au that I call: New home sweet home au. And yeah my yap session is starting here rn and some rambles about other stuff too so be warned mega yap session.)

Basically this idea is just ex employee y/n just being like "fuck it" and getting the toys out of the factory and put them at their house and that's was the only plan. Now they got about a shit ton of trauma and injuries and 17 traumatized alive toys who are now living in their house so thats cool.

y/n was a kinda tries to make them feel at home especially after all thats happened and the other toys y/n couldn't save. They try to make the toys they did save feel better and the toys do and well once they feel at home, it's chaotic is the basics of it. And to toys who tries to kill y/n (kinda includes kinda doey for his very understandable crash out but he feels bad for it) try to apologize by trying to be helpful to y/n and trying to protect y/n from anything that tries to hurt them as well. Plus miss delights face was also kinda fixed as y/n tried to fix it with some molding clay but fixed it to the best of their abilities and it's looks good but y/n is trying to get crafty corn to help them with repairing miss delights face because y/n nearly had several heart attacks because of seeing miss delight in the darkness at night when they try to go into the kitchen for a snack.

One night there was robbers who broke into the house once to steal stuff but mommy long legs and catnap heard them and yeah, the robbers ended up being torn apart cause Mommy long legs and catnap ain't going to let their new home and the person who gave them a second chance to die or get robbed (yarnaby ate the evidence). Once y/n was sitting on the couch watching SpongeBob with dogday and basically released the wildest like it went like this.

*y/n and dogday watching SpongeBob*

Y/n: "you know I'm in a metal band and once at a small concert, I was clocked in the head with a phone being thrown on the stage and ended up getting into a fight over a bag of cheeze-it's?"

*Dog day pauses and slowly looks over at y/n, who keeps watching the TV*

Dog day: "what made you remember that while watching SpongeBob!?"

I do imagine that doey (and the rest of the toys) get worried when y/n leaves the house cause like what if something happens and they can't help so they all made a rule that y/n has to call very 30 minutes (or less) and if they don't call in 30 minutes then all hell breaks loose as they all think y/n is dead and never coming back until they do and end up having do Uber eats their groceries for the next 2 weeks. I imagine that y/n has some old game consoles that their parents gave them and some new consoles that y/n doesn't use anymore but they give the toys the old consoles like the Nintendo entertainment or game cube as I do Imagine that if y/n used their new consoles for them. They would flip out cause like all the toys (especially the younger toys) have never seen a advanced game like this as like playtime co was open to 1930 to 1995 so I imagine they only remember the old consoles and I do imagine like doey playing Super Mario Bros on the Nintendo entertainment or any of the toys playing different Nintendo games is just a funny idea for me.

Also imagining that y/n somehow got daddy long legs and baby long legs as well and totally imagining that mommy long legs wearing hair curlers and daddy long legs using some for his mustache cause like you can't tell me they won't do that, maybe even the baby has one for that one strand of hair

But the looming fear of the prototype still is in them. I mean of course the prototype could never leave the factory but with all those materials and what the prototype might be thinking. It's not always out of the question of the prototype will try something like try and leave the factory it's trapped in. Who knows but the toys put all their trust on y/n and y/n has faxed worse and almost got eaten alive by smiling critters and Nightmares critters has weighed on them a bit but could be worse.

(so that's the main basis of this au idea and if you guys like it and want more don't feel shy if you guys wanna request for this au for any ideas or just want more of this. But that's it's for my yap session, please stay safe and drink water!)

[hellodaekko]

so wolves are generally more vocal than dogs are. They yelp, whine, growl, snap etc to communicate and that can be pretty scary outside looking in but these behaviors aren't necessarily aggressive depending on their posture/body language. The first time Angel and Babe witness this kind of language amongst the shifters of the pack it freaks them out. Their only frame of reference for canine behaviors are just normal dogs, so when they first witness Milo snap at Asher in their wolf forms they almost jump because HEYYY that's two gigantic wolves seemingly getting less-than-friendly with each other and there's some whining and growling and small barks mixed into it. Babe's initial reaction is to run and check on Asher but they hold back because it is two gigantic wolves interacting with each other. Doesn't matter if they know that these are actually still people or not, there is that innate sense of fear for them of "that looks like a wild animal, it sounds like a wild animal, it feels like a wild animal and I shouldn't get near that". But despite this, they notice that their tails are wagging loosely the entire time and it's a little confusing. Angel is also a little shocked by it initially until David shoves himself in-between the two and immediately Asher is trying to lick his face and Milo falls onto his back, belly up and their tails are still wagging. There's a lip curl from David as Asher keeps shoving into his face and eventually he just?? Bites Asher's muzzle?? It's more like holding his muzzle in his own mouth but Angel turns to Babe and are like "I have no clue what's going on but I think they're just playing" The two confirm with their respective mates that they were, indeed, just playing. Along with the million tiny nuances of the rest of their behaviors. That's just what communication from an outside perspective looked like. Sweetheart has more experience among the shifters so they knew that already, but its also because they were a nerdy animal kid growing up so they had a good idea of what communication amongst a wolf pack looked like. They were very pleased to find it still applied to shifters.

[zith-ipeth]

A dog came into the shop today, his name was Maximus

This is a post about transandrophobia and man hating platitudes

I’ve been sitting around the edge of this discourse because I have stakes and traumas in it, but idk, fuck it, it shouldn’t be discourse.

I see a lot of comparisons between humanity and our canine cousins, it helps me understand modern politics and social issues. This post might not make sense, if I say things that are harmful, I do not mean it. And please for the love of all that is holy correct me, public or private, I’m learning, and making mistakes

—————————

When I was younger, a member of my aunts family, a large mutt named Hunter, jumped on me in a playful gesture, he was about as big as I was at 9 years old, and all muscle. He knocked me over and left a massive claw mark on my stomach. He was a fantastic dog, excitable, very cuddly, loved to play with his siblings. This isn’t to say he was perfect, no one is, he got aggressive, and has barked and bit people before

This can happen with rescues, turns out abuse can often create animals that cuase harm because that’s what they know

No one is one dimensional

In middle school, I was sexually assaulted, emotionally abused and manipulated by a trans boy my age, we were both young, far too young. I can’t say he was nice man, when we grew up he refused to acknowledged any of the harm he had caused, and caused further harm as he got older. But at the time, I knew that what happened wasn’t a cold calculated process, he was too young to have learned this from anything other than abuse that happened onto him

This can happen with trans folks, turns out abuse can often create people that cause harm because that’s what they know

But no one is one dimensional…

———————

Tumblr has been having this whole moment with transandrophobia/transmisandry, it’s, a lot. And for some reason I thought as all this was happening, that my beliefs about it would be kinda, one sided.

Cis men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve seen this a thousand times, first and second hand, I’ve felt it, in the shaking hand of a girl sobbing and I’ve felt it as bruises on my abdomen, left by boys older than me.

Trans men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve felt this, I’ve been hurt by this, in a way that broke me down in a way nothing else has

But I still felt, off, about it

Mostly because like, yeah, masculinity can be bad and scary, this is true. But it’s not one dimensional like that, masculinity can be amazing too, masculine cis men have saved my ass from being bullied in school more times than I can count.

No one is one dimensional

Also, misandry, even separate from transness, IS REAL, I was a guy for a long time, I felt it. My friend, who was cis, felt it, and still feels it. They have trouble making friends in college because people view them as a threat, due to their masculinity, that’s a real problem

And that problem is multiplied by the intersection of transness

And like yeah, it’s not as societally pervasive as misogyny, but even if it’s small, it’s still there, and still hurts people

I have every excuse to perceive trans men as violent and evil, and yeah, sometimes men, and often trans men, get scary to me, cuase it clicks a response in my brain. But I’m also an adult, and know that I share community with my cis and trans masc allies.

And somthing interesting about the boy who assaulted me, is how fast people were to take away his transness, my friends started using his old names, using dehumanizing pronouns he didn’t use, saying that it was “man behavior”. He’s a trans man, he was a bad person, those arnt connected, and one shouldn’t effect the other, being perceived as the gender you are isn’t a “reward” for good behavior. he was an asshole, and a liar, but he was man.

I get how one can be scared when someone is part of a group when someone in that identity group hurt you, but learning to love those people is incredibly fulfilling, and is something you must do as a trans ally

The relationships with men, trans and cis, I’ve had have been some of the most fun, flirtatious and physically/mentally stimulating relationships I’ve ever had

——————

Today at the pet supply shop I work at, a dog named Maximus came in

Massive, maybe 115 pound mastiff, clipped ears, docked tail, golden chain collar. His person was a built man, shaved head, full beard.

They came in for a self serve bath, and when they left, Maximus was wagging the nub of his tail, tapping his paws and whining, smelling all the amazing smells in the store. I got down to his level to pet him, and he jumped on me, playfully. His size made the visual of him jumping on me a little scary, but the kisses made it a lot better

No one is one dimensional

—————

Trans men face unique transphobia, if that bothers you, fuck off. If you want to demonize a trans man for shit they didn’t even do, for shit that other men have done, fuck off.

Judge people for who they are, not for who they might be, I don’t give a shit how scary a man looks, try and understand them regardless

I love dogs, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s something I need to work through

I love men, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s somthing I need to work through.

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace love and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[muiitoloko]

Cinderella

Summary: She came to witness the grandeur of Versailles but left with the Sun King’s undivided attention—a dangerous prize for a girl who never meant to be noticed.

Pairing: King Louis XIV × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: This isn’t canon at all; I just watched an anime scene and got inspired to write this 😅

Also read on Ao3

The Palace of Versailles loomed before you, its golden gates thrown open in a rare display of generosity—or, more likely, vanity. King Louis XIV had decreed that for the first time in years, the common folk were permitted entry to his grand ball, an unprecedented spectacle that had set the entire city abuzz. Some whispered that the Sun King merely wanted to flaunt his magnificence to those who could never hope to touch it. Others claimed it was a ploy to find a new queen, though it was baffling why he would look among the rabble when he had mistresses aplenty.

You, however, cared little for the king’s intentions. This was your one chance to see Versailles from within, to walk its mirrored halls, to breathe the air of those whose lives were spun from silk and gold. The palace had always been a distant wonder, admired from the fields where you and your brother toiled. But tonight, dressed in your finest—though still a poor imitation of true nobility—you would see it up close.

Your brother, standing beside you, adjusted the fraying cuffs of his borrowed coat, his expression a mix of wariness and reluctant excitement. “If we get thrown out, I’m blaming you,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “Then don’t get caught staring at the food like a starving dog, and we might just pass for something other than beggars.”

He snorted but said nothing more as the two of you stepped through the towering entrance, swallowed whole by the sheer opulence of it all.

The Hall of Mirrors glittered like a dream, candlelight bouncing off its endless reflections, making it appear as though a thousand ghosts waltzed through its gilded expanse. The air was thick with perfume and intrigue, nobles eyeing the unexpected presence of peasants with barely veiled contempt. Though none dared openly sneer—the king had, after all, extended the invitation—there was no mistaking the lines drawn between silk and linen, lace and coarse wool.

You had never seen such extravagance—tables overflowing with delicacies you had only heard of in passing, strings of pearls glinting on the necks of women who seemed more like dolls than real flesh and blood, musicians playing a waltz so hauntingly beautiful that it made your chest ache. It was all too much, too magnificent, and for a moment, you simply stood there, drinking it all in.

Then, the room fell silent.

A shift in the air. A moment of stillness, as though the palace itself held its breath.

King Louis XIV had arrived.

He moved through the hall with measured grace, the embodiment of power and opulence, his black wig framing sharp features, his hazel eyes heavy with the weight of a kingdom. Without a word, he ascended the stairs to his throne and, in an almost lazy gesture, sat down. That was all it took—the ball resumed, conversations picking up in hushed tones, musicians finding their rhythm again, and couples sweeping back onto the dance floor as though nothing had happened.

You, however, could not look away.

Your gaze locked onto the Sun King, the man whose whims dictated the fate of France. He lounged upon his throne with the air of a man who had seen it all, who had nothing left to be impressed by. He watched the dancing figures before him with mild detachment, fingers resting against his knee, expression unreadable.

A nudge against your ribs startled you.

"Stop staring," your brother murmured, his tone both amused and exasperated.

Blinking, you turned to him, only to notice the women kneeling in perfect formation at the foot of the king’s elevated throne. They were beautiful, pristine in their silks and satins, their heads bowed slightly as they remained poised in eerie patience.

"What are they doing?" you whispered, frowning.

Your brother shrugged. "Noblewomen, I suppose. Perhaps they wait for an invitation to dance with the king."

The idea of it—women reduced to mere ornaments, kneeling in silent hope for a glance, a gesture—made something in you burn. It was foolish, wasn’t it? To expect anything different. This was the way of things. And yet, when your gaze drifted back to the king, when you saw the boredom in his eyes, the utter indifference with which he sat above it all, something inside you snapped.

Before you could think better of it, you grabbed the fabric of your dress, lifting the hem just enough to move freely, and marched forward.

You heard your brother’s breath hitch. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You ignored him.

The music, the dancing, the laughter—it all became background noise as you moved through the crowd, dodging twirling figures, brushing past the heavy perfumes and the lace-trimmed sleeves. You stopped at the foot of the stairs, between the bowing ladies.

And then, in a single bold motion, you extended your hand.

An invitation. No—a challenge.

The silence that followed was deafening.

All around, the ball came to a halt once more. The musicians faltered, the dancers froze, and a collective breath was held as every pair of eyes in the room turned toward you.

King Louis XIV regarded you with the slow, calculating gaze of a man unaccustomed to surprises. His hazel eyes flickered with something—curiosity, amusement, irritation? It was impossible to say.

For a terrible moment, you thought he might laugh, might cast you aside with nothing more than a smirk. But then, without a word, the king rose from his throne.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

He descended the stairs, step by deliberate step, until he stood before you.

You had to fight not to flinch when he reached out, taking your outstretched hand in his own. His grip was firm, his skin warm, and before you could fully process what had just happened, he was leading you onto the dance floor.

The nobles moved aside as though the sea itself was parting.

The musicians scrambled to recover, launching into a waltz fit for royalty.

And there you were, in the arms of the king, your feet moving in perfect rhythm to the music, your body following his lead as if drawn by invisible strings.

The two of you danced in silence.

Despite the music swelling around you, despite the fact that the King of France held you in his grasp, you felt your confidence waver. It was one thing to challenge him, to throw yourself into the center of the Sun King’s world with reckless abandon, but it was another to stand in the middle of his court, crushed beneath the weight of a thousand whispered judgments.

You could hear them—murmurs behind delicate lace fans, the barely concealed sneers of noblemen whose powdered faces betrayed their disdain. A peasant, in the arms of their king. A girl in linen and borrowed silk, daring to stand where only those with titles and fortunes belonged.

Your face burned. Your pulse pounded in your ears. The sheer absurdity of what you had done crashed down on you like an avalanche, and your grip on the king's hand faltered. What were you thinking? What madness had possessed you to reach for something so unattainable?

You were just a girl from the fields. He was Louis XIV.

Your breath quickened, and your eyes darted around the glittering ballroom, searching for your brother, searching for an escape, anything to ground you. But then—

"Look at me."

The words were sharp, quiet, yet laced with undeniable command.

Your body stiffened.

His grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as he turned you in a slow, deliberate motion, drawing your gaze back to him. His hazel eyes burned with something you couldn’t place—something piercing, unyielding.

"Not at them. At me."

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. You had broken so many unspoken rules already, but this? To meet the king’s eyes, to hold his gaze—this was defiance. This was treasonous audacity.

And yet, you obeyed.

Your eyes lifted, locking onto his.

His face was unreadable, carved from stone, regal and imposing beneath the candlelight. The powdered curls of his black wig framed his angular features, a stark contrast to the graying hair hidden beneath. His baritone voice had left no room for disobedience, and something inside you bristled at that—the way he wielded power so effortlessly, so completely, as though the world bent to his will.

Because it did.

Who was he, really, behind the embroidered silks and golden halls? A pompous man with too much power. A king who wore his arrogance like a crown.

And yet, as you stared into those hazel eyes, as he led you through the waltz with perfect, calculated ease, you saw something else flicker behind them—something tired, something worn. The Sun King, basking in his own light, surrounded by beauty and decadence, but impossibly alone.

You didn’t know whether to pity him or despise him.

So you did neither.

You simply danced.

The whispers faded, the watching eyes blurred into nothing. The music carried you both, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, it was as though there were only the two of you, moving through the golden halls of Versailles.

When the final notes of the waltz faded into the gilded air, applause rippled through the ballroom like a distant thunderclap. You stepped back, bowing respectfully, your fingers slipping from the king’s grasp as propriety dictated. Louis XIV did not bow in return—kings did not bow—but he inclined his head ever so slightly, a gesture that carried the weight of acknowledgment.

Yet his hazel eyes never left you.

Your dress, though the finest you owned, was a poor imitation of the elaborate silks that swirled around the room. It was the single thing that betrayed you, that made it clear to him—you were no noblewoman, no courtly lady maneuvering through the hierarchy of Versailles with polished ease. You were a bold peasant, a reckless girl who had dared to reach beyond her station, and yet… you had danced as though you belonged.

Louis reached for your hand once more, his fingers warm as they wrapped around yours, anchoring you in place. A slow smirk played at the corner of his lips, something unreadable glinting in his gaze as he tilted his head, studying you like one might study an anomaly.

"Your name," he demanded, his baritone voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

You hesitated, your pulse hammering against your ribs. A foolish part of you wanted to refuse—to remind him that peasants owed kings nothing, least of all their names. But before you could decide whether to answer, a flutter of silken skirts interrupted, breaking the spell between you.

"Your Majesty," a woman’s voice chimed, honeyed and lilting. Another followed, then another. A small group of noblewomen, perfect in their powdered grace, had approached, their faces carefully arranged in expressions of expectation and adoration. Each one curtsied with delicate precision, their gazes flickering briefly to you before dismissing you altogether.

"Will you dance with us, Sire?" one of them asked, batting her lashes in a way that made your stomach turn.

Louis turned his head, his gaze shifting to them, and just like that, your hand slipped from his grasp.

He did not notice at first. He was the Sun King, after all, and the world revolved around him. Women bowed, men whispered, and the court ebbed and flowed to his whims like the tides obeying the moon. Why should he expect that anyone—especially a girl of no name, no title—would simply walk away?

But that was exactly what you did.

You turned, slipping through the crowd before he could realize his mistake, before he could demand that you stay. Your heart pounded as you navigated through the sea of nobility, ignoring the curious glances, the whispers that trailed in your wake. Your brother was nowhere in sight—perhaps he had already escaped, perhaps he was still lingering in the ballroom, watching in horror as you committed what was surely a dangerous act of defiance.

You did not wait to find out.

Your feet carried you faster now, urgency threading through your veins. The gilded halls blurred around you, the chandeliers above casting fractured reflections along the polished floors, but you did not stop. You did not stop until you reached the grand entrance, the towering doors that had once seemed impossibly distant.

Then, with a final push, you burst through them.

The cold night air hit you like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs. You stumbled, your legs trembling, but you did not slow. Versailles, with all its gold and grandeur, loomed behind you like a dream you never should have stepped into.

A foolish, reckless dream.

You ran.

And inside the palace, Louis XIV lifted his gaze just in time to see the great doors swing open. Just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of you, disappearing into the night like a phantom. His expression did not change, but something in him shifted—something sharp, something that burned just beneath the surface.

Like Cinderella, you had fled from the ball.

Except it was not yet midnight.

And you had left nothing behind. No glass slipper for him to chase.

Only the echo of your defiance.

And for the first time in a long, long while, the Sun King felt the sting of being denied.

[moonlitcelestial]

Chapter 2

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 2,752

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾ 

Inspiration Pictures

Previous Chapter (Chapter 1)

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 lean toward she/her pronouns. 

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures. 

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

This list will be updated as the story goes on. 

Thanks for reading <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

After you fitfully slept on the proposition and spoke to your mother about taking care of the furballs when you would be gone you had officially decided that you would like to take the offer. You sincerely hoped the rest of the team decided the same. You also decided it was time to take the giants into the office. You had previously discussed the idea and the team agreed it would be fun. The giants were almost like dogs and were fairly well behaved even when getting out of the house. They were also great stress relievers. You knew that everyone would appreciate them being there. The giants have a way of knowing when emotions are high and they are the most comforting presence in those times. 

“Alright children, it's time for you to finally go to the office. Let's get you saddled up and get on the road.” You grabbed all three harnesses and jingled them, they knew when they heard that sound that they were going on an adventure. Toothless was the first one to appear as he was never too far behind you. He rubbed on your legs and you strapped the black winged harness around his chest and legs. You knew Forrest would get a kick out of it, especially since he got it for him. It was the perfect black to blend in with his fur. He peaked up at you with his big green eyes and you gave him scritches behind his ears. 

“Good job bud. Let's get you to the car,” you walked into your garage and opened the car door for him. He leapt into the car and settled immediately in the back seat. 

The next to appear was Beans. Her black and gold fur was shining in the sunlight as she walked. She looked at you with her split colored face while she chirped. She was the mouthiest of the three. You smiled and grabbed her white, black, and gold harness. “Hi pretty girl, let's get you ready so we can go see Auntie Aurora.” Her and Aurora had bonded immediately, if she wasn't with you she was with Aurora when all of you hung out. She was all strapped in and ready to go. You led her to the car and she got right in, making her way to the passenger seat. 

You walked back into the house and saw Mocha sitting patiently by her white and gold harness. She was the diva princess, and she certainly looked the part with her all white fur and her different colored eyes. You always joked that they were her two personalities. She was either in your face demanding attention or playing hard to get. “Hi Princess, let's get your jewels on and head out.” you strapped the harness on and led her to the car, she leaped in and settled down close to Toothless. They were always partners in crime. Once you were satisfied they were comfortable you closed the door and got into the driver's seat. Your copilot chirped at you again. You started your Cadillac Lyriq that you affectionately named Aria. You reached over and petted Beans, making sure to scratch her chin for a second. You headed to the office which was about a 15 minute drive. Generally you made it there a couple minutes before the others so they would hopefully be surprised by the giants.

Once you got to the office you grabbed their leashes and had them follow you into the building. They all were very curious, and the people passing cooed at them. Once you made it in you unlatched their leashes and let them wander around for a minute while you got things started for the morning. You smiled at the three pictures you had hanging in the lobby of them, your unofficial company mascots. You had brought them to a park and took professional shots of them with the help of Aurora forever ago. You had been looking for pictures to put up around the office to represent your talent and these were the three you chose. You called them to the hallway door and propped it open for them. They ventured in to explore, once all three of them were in you closed it. You headed up the stairs and propped the door open at the top landing so they could meander around. You headed to your office and put the door stopper in it. There was a no closed door policy that they had instilled in you, you only had the doors closed if they weren't allowed in the room when you were not in that room. 

Once you sat down your bag you booted up your computer and started on some of the emails you had from the night before. Not too long after you heard Beans chirp, “Come here baby, I'm up the stairs.” you heard the padding of a few sets of feet and Aurora appeared with the three in tow. Ah that's why she was being mouthy. You hadn't even heard Aurora come in the door. 

“Hi N/N it's good to see the giants," she said while she knelt down to pet all three of them. She walked off to her office and you heard her prop it open. The other two teammates followed the same routine once they got in. Toothless was curled up on your couch back to back with Mocha when Forrest appeared. He took one look at the floofs on the couch and squealed at the small wings you could barely see on Toothless’ big frame. You left his harnesses on for this exact reason. 

“I knew you would love seeing him in it.” you remarked not looking up from your computer. Forrest marched over to pet Toothless and then picked him up and held him up like Simba to inspect the wings and harness. Mocha chirped at the lack of affection. Forrest gently set down Toothless and started scratching Mocha’s head. 

“Is everyone here?” You inquired looking up from your computer. 

“Yes, Willow came in a second before I did.” Forrest responded while petting both cats. 

You stretched and got up, “alright, lets go to the round table and have a team meeting.” That was what your group had affectionately called the large table that was on the landing. Even if it was not round, it was more oblong than anything. You stopped to unclip the harness from Toothless on your way out the door, you had already taken off the other two’s harnesses. Forrest smiled at them and started to the round table. You walked over to the other offices beckoning them to come for a team meeting.  You noticed Beans curled up on the corner of Aurora’s desk. Of course, her second favorite person was around so her first didn't matter. 

“Alright, we have had time to discuss with our families and sleep on it, has our verdict changed? Do we need to discuss anything before we take the next step? You questioned pushing up your glasses as you sat down. 

“My answer is still the same. Meadow is cool with everything and said that we should buy her souvenirs any time we go anywhere. This is the time of the year that she travels a lot as well so we wouldn’t have seen each other any way” Aurora piped up after taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Same here, Asher is absolutely in love with the fact that we will be getting to travel. He said to take lots of pictures,” Forrest agreed. 

“My answer is the same. I discussed it with Rowan and he is going to discuss the whole thing with his managers to see if they will permit him to work while traveling. He does remote work so I don't see why it would be an issue but he would rather be safe than sorry.”

“That's smart, I am glad he is possibly going to come along.” You said smiling at her. “Also, I would like for all of you to be in the room while I call them so that way you can hear the details as I do. I am unsure about what the exact details will be but I am sure we will get more answers soon.”

“Let's do this!” Aurora said with a fighting gesture that only you would understand. You laughed at her and got up to head to your office. They all followed you and filed in. Forrest picked up Toothless and Willow picked up Mocha while they sat. Aurora plopped onto the giant beanbag chair you had in the corner. Before too long you heard the padding of soft feet. Beans appeared and got comfortable next to Aurora. 

You redialed the number you took down for KQ, your fingers slightly shook as you dialed. It rang a couple of times before someone answered. 

“KQ Entertainment, how can I help you?” a man questioned

“Hello I am looking for Ji-Yu, my name is Y/N with Beyond the Lens Studios.” 

“Okay perfect, I will get you transferred back momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

The hold music was some of the background music from some of Ateez’s songs. It was endearing how they adored their artists. Definitely something some other companies could learn from. 

“This is Ji-Yu, how can I help you?”

“Good morning Ji-Yu, this is Y/N with Beyond the Lens Studios, I have you on speaker with the rest of my team to give you our decision.” 

“Okay, perfect, Let me grab our CEO and then we can discuss your decision.” You were put on another brief hold. The music had changed into something completely different, something you only could assume was Xikers or Eden. You looked over to your team, each of them loving on one of the giants. 

“Hello Y/N?” Ji-Yu’s voice fitted through the speaker. 

“Yes I am here.” you said, snapping your head back to the phone. 

“Okay, you are on speaker with me, the CEO, and Hongjoong.” She noted. 

“Thank you for letting me know.” Holy shit you thought to yourself. “On behalf of our team here at Beyond the Lens Studios I would like to formally accept the offer you have extended to us. 

“That is great news, we have already drafted up the contract in preparation.” Ji-Yu said “Would it be alright if we come over to your studio this afternoon to discuss details before you sign?” Your eyes widened. 

“We would also like to get a feel for your studio and formally introduce ourselves to you as you will be spending a lot of time with us.” Hongjoong piped in, “we only have this afternoon available as a group for the foreseeable future.”

You looked at your team, your eyes almost popping out of your head, they looked back at you with the same amount of shock. You had expected it to take a little bit of time to sort out their things before meeting with you, especially the boys. 

“Let me check if our calendar is clear.” You turned to your computer and looked at the group calendar and noticed that it was empty for this afternoon.  

“This afternoon works perfectly. What time would you like to meet?” 

“We could do it at 1:30, that way everyone has the opportunity to eat beforehand and we don't have any grumps in our ranks.” Hongjoong said. 

“That also works for our team,” Ji-Yu said. 

“Perfect! I will get you on our calendar and we look forward to meeting you this afternoon, thank you for this opportunity.” you said cheerily.

“We look forward to meeting with all of you as well.” Hongjoong said. The call ended and you leaned back in your seat. You pushed your hands up under your glasses and sighed. You hadn't realized you were holding your breath. Bringing your hands away from your face you looked at everyone.

“Holy fuck,” Aurora blurts, “I was not expecting that to happen so quickly.” 

“I don't think any of us were.” Forrest said. You looked over to him and Toothless jumped from his lap to your desk approaching you. He always knew when your nerves were high. You reached out your hand to him and he bunted it. You smiled at him and started petting him fully. He was your boy, he followed you around everywhere and was very demanding when it came to cuddles. If there was a sling that would fit a cat of his size you are sure he would absolutely love it. 

“It is a good thing we all have a spare set of clothes here to change into to look professional.” Willow chimed in.

You looked down at yourself, the black sweats and large black hoodie were definitely not appropriate for a business meeting. The other sported similar looks only with more color. 

“Let's head down and get started. We need all the time we can get to make the office look presentable, and to get our faces ready.” You got up and headed toward your door, it was right around 10 am, so you only had just about 3 hours to get your shit together and look presentable. 

“Are we ordering food or is someone going to make something?” Forrest ever the foodie asked from behind you. 

“Just order in and put it on the company card. This will be a company lunch anyway cause we definitely don't have the time to cook or go home. We need to go and clean up the studio and vacuum the floors of the dressing rooms. After we clean we still need to make ourselves look presentable.” 

“Kay kay, I'll go order for everyone, and I will pick it up in about an hour. In the meantime, there are still a few things out in the studio from the shoot that was here earlier this week.” Forrest said walking to his office. You looked over the balcony rails and saw a few lights scattered around and a couple of tripods. 

“I've got that, will the two of you split up and check the dressing rooms and please make sure the conference room looks good and that the snacks are all stocked in there as well. You said to the two women following you out of the room.

“Roger that,” Aurora said with a mock salute, “I'll go check the dressing rooms.”

Willow walked out of the office last and said “I'll get the conference room then, I'm the only one around here we can trust around the snacks anyway.” Aurora gasped in mock offence and you giggled at the snipe. You walked toward the upstairs door and made sure to close it after the three of you so the furry hooligans wouldn't get downstairs while you cleaned. 

After cleaning up for about an hour and eating which was about 30 minutes you started to get ready for the meeting. You walked to your office and grabbed the outfit you had hanging in its garment bag on your coat rack. Days like today were exactly why you recommended all of you have outfits at the ready. You unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the hangar. You made sure that the full outfit was there. The belt wrapped around the top, the black cropped jacket, black high waisted slacks, and the black sleeveless blouse were all hanging from it. You grabbed your pointed toe black shoes that were sitting at the base of the coat rack and made your way out. The best way you could describe your professional style to anyone was corporate goth or dark academia. You always dressed in black and very rarely had any color on. Your tattoos were barely going to be on display with the choice of outfit. You walked downstairs to the dressing room where Willow and Aurora were seated doing their hair. You smiled at them and hung your outfit on one of the hangers attached to the wall setting the shoes down as well. You made your way to the vanities and started your process. After a little bit you straightened your hair, and finally you got dressed. The other two had left a little while ago. You had just put the jacket on when you heard a small knock on the door and Willow peaked her head in. 

“They're here, " she said through the crack of the door.

You checked yourself in the mirror one last time. 

Here we go

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 3)

Taglist

@breadedloafs @a-short-ass-disappointment

[kkink]

so i have this one headcanon: mc goes to a party to forget the crush on jin, and meets haku. he offers to help.

_______________________________________

your fingers are already damp around the neck of another sweating bottle when you realize how much you've been drinking. the burn is welcome, smoothing out the rough edges of your thoughts, dulling that old, familiar ache in your chest. you don’t want to think about jin. don’t want to think about the way his voice had sounded - so flat, so unmoved. like it hadn’t cost him anything. you knock back another sip.

a laugh cuts through the noise, sharp and easy. you know that laugh. turn your head and see him - haku, lounging near the bar, one arm draped over the back of a chair, the other nursing a half-empty glass. his uniform jacket is missing, sleeves rolled up like he doesn’t have a care in the world, the veins in his forearms flexing. he catches you looking. grins.

“thought you were allergic to this kind of scene,” he says as you drift closer, half-shouting over the fifteen other ongoing conversations. “what changed?”

your tongue is also loose from the alcohol, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing. that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for jin. so you just lift your drink and nod your head, a non-answer. haku just looks at you like he understood. (he does.)

“so you got an L from the ice king, huh?”

the words shouldn’t sting as much as they do. you shrug, eyes dropping to the floor.

“that’s a shame,” haku continues, and there’s something almost genuine in his voice. but then—“stop making that pathetic face, though. you look like a kicked dog. don’t tell me you’re still in love with that idiot?”

haku watches you for a moment, then leans in, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of coconut and vodka on his breath.

“let’s help you get over him then. should be easy.” his voice dips, playful, but not unserious.

you tilt your head, eyes narrowing skeptically. “how?”

he smirks. “how about you go out with me? we can be friends, but you can kiss me. do other things. distract yourself. what do you think?”

his eyes glint under the shifting lights, the weight of the bassline pressing between them. something in his voice half a joke, half not.

you blink.

and then you laugh.

because it’s haku. haku, who flirts like it’s breathing, who’s probably said some version of this line at least twenty times tonight alone. haku, who once told a spirit she was the most beautiful ghost he’d ever seen before exorcising her five minutes later.

you shake your head, amusement curling at the edges of your lips. “actually, that sounds like a great idea,” you say, matching his tone, matching his game. then you tip your chin up, eyes glinting under the shifting lights. “should we start now?”

his smirk stretches, lazy, knowing. he doesn’t answer right away—just watches you like he’s waiting for something. maybe for you to break first, to laugh it off, to take it back. but you don’t. and suddenly, the air between you feels different. thicker. heavier.

haku tilts his head, gaze dipping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. and then, he grins like he’s won something.

“you’re dangerous when you drink, huh?”

you hum, feigning innocence. “i have no idea what you mean.”

he chuckles, tipping his glass against yours in a slow, deliberate clink.

“alright then,” he says, like he’s accepting a challenge. “let’s see where this goes.”

the heat of the party presses in from all sides, but suddenly, it feels like the only real thing in the room is the space between you and haku. the crowd is still moving, the music is still pounding, people are still drinking and laughing and existing around you—but it all feels a little distant now, like background noise to whatever this is.

his eyes don’t leave yours, that lazy grin still playing on his lips, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll flinch. if you’ll break first. you don’t.

you take another sip of your drink, the alcohol humming in your veins, making everything feel a little looser, a little easier.

“so,” he says, tipping his glass back, swallowing the last of whatever was inside. “if we’re starting now, what’s the move?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “you’re the one who made the offer, figure it out.”

he exhales a short laugh, then tilts his head, considering. the dim, shifting lights cast sharp lines over his face, catching the faint sheen of sweat at his temple. you can tell he’s enjoying this—this little back-and-forth, this game—but there’s something else under it, something you can’t quite place.

then, without warning, he leans in.

______________________________________________________

[...]

[dragoncoven]

Dumb Transformers One Headcanons That I Thought Of Instead Of Being A Normal Person

Warnings: Language. Talks of death and murder, but nothing worse than what has already happened in the movie. Sentinel "Prime" deserves his own Trigger Warning.

This one is mainly for if they ever go to Earth/can be applied to other versions of Transformers: the one vehicle that no transformer can take after as an alt form is the Tesla Cybertruck. That vehicle is so much of a mechanical failure that it's physically impossible for any of them to even scan it. If anyone tried to transform into one, they would get contorted into a metal cube- like the ones that Wall-e makes- and it would take several medics to undo the damage. That's how bad it is and IRL I'm convinced that the so-called "truck" is made of garbage cans and fancy duck tape. They're better for being used as flying projectiles to hit Decepticons with. The owners can just get a new one.

Like the Bumblebee movie, TF One Bee would get his name from a human he befriends during a visit to Earth. The friend would still call him Badassatron every now and then when in a joking mood.

Pompeii by Bastille, especially the MMXXIII version, would make Optimus Prime cry like a baby.

I've been thinking and reading theories on why Bee was sent to Sublevel 50 since I first saw the movie. From the simple "probably pissed off Darkwing" to "accidentally uncovered something related to Sentinel Prime's treachery", but guys what if it's both? Like Bee loading the "trash" crates onto the trains like we see in the movie, but somehow bumps into Darkwing and a bunch of energon spills out from the crate. He is taken in and reported to Sentinel, who tells Darkwing to yeet Bee down the trash chute. The Blue Bastard joyfully agrees to do so since Bee has pissed him off multiple times on other jobs. He even plays a cruel joke by telling the optimistic bot that he's got a new job for him. The whole energon debacle was forgotten over time by Bee until he goes to the surface and uncovers the truth.

Speaking of Darkwing, he runs away from both Autobots and Decepticons fearing punishment from both leaders (Optimus would put him in jail for abuse to minors and aiding and abetting Sentinel like in the headcanon above, Megatron would just give him the old Kit-Kat treatment) and would end up being spotted by the Quintessons. He's the first Cybertronian they have seen since Sentinel promised them more energon so they kidnap and question him about why they haven't received any shipment since then. They kill him after Optimus sends them that message at the end of the film saying that they won't be receiving any more energon and leave his scrapped body on Iacon's doorstep as their war declaration. Sorry that was a little dark, but I just hate the dude. Not as much as I hate Sentinel, but it's pretty close.

Speaking of Blue Bastards, Sentinel's wings are add-on upgrades that were mainly for cosmetic purposes and that's why they seemed to come off so easily when D-16 was fighting him and they both crashed to the ground.

D-16 would have mained King Dedede in Smash Bros. Dont ask me why. I just like the way "dee" sounds.

Referring to the second Bee headcanon, Sentinel did tell Darkwing verbatim to "yeet B-127 to Sublevel 50 or something, I don't care just make sure he doesn't leave". I hate them so much I hope they both die in agonizing ways (Thank you Megs for taking out the trash).

Sometimes, in order to convince D-16 to get involved in his shenanigans, Orion Pax would bring out the puppy-dog eyes and Dee is helpless against it. He does manage to build up an immunity against it and that's why Orion didn't use it to convince him to participate in the race.

Optimus would later regret that part of his life because Bee uses his own puppy-dog eyes to convince him to give him extra missions or a cookie or something.

Elita trained Badassatron in fighting and also helps him realize when someone is being mean or taking advantage of him, that boi is naive even after the movie.

Anyone caught, tried, and convicted of knowingly helping Sentinel Prime with his evil acts (so Airachnid and those golden drones if they were sentient) during his reign is sentenced to 2 eons (or whatever is considered a very long time for transformers) of jail time with community service, stuff like building new housing quarters for the newly cogged former miners and tearing down whatever Sentinel statues weren't blasted off by Megatron and the High Guard and cleaning up after the ones that did. Optimus Prime may be trying to be peaceful and forgiving but he ain't a wuss.

Those who managed to slip through the cracks of the Iacon's new Justice system still become social pariahs and even if they join the Autobots in the coming wars, no one ever fully forgives them.

Because depending on how Cybertronians are born, I find it hard to believe that Sentinel managed to be there to take every t-cog out of every bot before they onlined. He probably paid off some nurses or something to do his dirty work for him.

Elita destresses after every day by doing something completely unrelated to kicking ass and taking names- writing crack fanfic of the Primes. She keeps it private and publishes under a pen name- especially when her former-worst-employee-in-the-world becomes a Prime. No one can ever know.

Bee finds out when using her computer because she forgot to close the Cybertronian equivalent to Microsoft Word. Everyone in Iacon knows who writes the funniest Prima×Megatronus fics by the end of the day.

Orion is a semi-constant reader, but once recognized a scene from one of her stories because he and D pulled that exact same stunt once and Solus reacts the same exact way that Elita did to them. As Optimus Prime, he now knows why he got deja vu.

No one makes fun of Elita for it, but she gets hounded by fans of her writing so much that she threatens to knock out the next person who brings it up to her in person. Despite this she keeps her Cybertronian A03 account alive and even still makes posts. Though she borrows less from her private life now.

She also absolutely refuses to write anything about Optimus Prime because that's her friend.

Bee learns better control of his knife hands over time and cooks with them now. Wait. Do Transformers even cook meals like us humans do? They have energon cubes in all sizes but that's the only thing we've seen them eat so far. Do they try anything with the plants and animals that they find on the surface? Cyber-deer venison, anyone?

I'm gonna cut my ramblings off now. Maybe there'll be a next time. Idk.

[mrs-starkgaryen]

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

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

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

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

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

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

A) we all are Mason, shut up

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

A) well I didn't like that foreshadowing

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

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

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

A) Or when Aegon dies...

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

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

A) mother? What you doing here, loca?

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

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

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

A) Sunshines reminder that social media is fake lmao

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

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

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

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

A) Aegon ever heard of playing it cool?

B) damn he's down bad

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

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

B) HE DID! Mf ain't old

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

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

A) and if I say 👀

B) foreshadowing...

C) also hello Simon Bassett from Bridgerton?

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

A) for now Aegon...

B) He will show her the different flavours

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

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

A) said every man ever 😉😂

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

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

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

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

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

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

A).... need I say more

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

A) you're killing me

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

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

A) either becca is crazy

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

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

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

A) a possible other nickname?

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

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

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

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

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

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

E) under artificial light? The Hollywood spotlight..

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

Also- Are the eyeshadows representing things?

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

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

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

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

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

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

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

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

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?” Dad says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

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

“Neat.”

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

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

“What size?”

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

“No, you have to say the real name.”

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

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

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

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

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

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

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

“I got you a part.”

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

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

“A part in what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“When’s the shoot?”

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

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

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

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

“Of course I’m going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He appears startled. “What?”

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

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

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

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

You are puzzled. “Why?”

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

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

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

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

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

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

“Aegon?”

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

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

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

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

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

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

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

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

“Lose Yourself.”

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

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

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

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

[leahsflwer]

Dating Headcanons - Wheeler Yuta ♥️

Warnings: Smut! Adult content, oral (both way), sẽx position mentioned, fingering, dating topics, affection, love languages, protective/obsessive topics, you get it..

Wheeler Yuta x fem! Reader

Yuta Masterlist || AEW Masterlist || Home Page

: ̗̀➛ Wheeler Yuta is loyal as a dog. As odd as that sounds, it means that once he chooses you, he will stick to your side and not let anyone change that. He will protect you no matter who the opponent is because he cares for you.

: ̗̀➛ He loves when you touch or play with his beard, even his hair as if grows out, the sensation just feels so good to him

: ̗̀➛ He is also very vulnerable, he is lost and confused often, especially when it comes between the people he cares about (Bryan Danielson and Jon Moxley). So please tell him if he is doing something wrong because he might be unsure or unaware of it.

: ̗̀➛ Yuta is affectionate, even if he looks angry and serious in the ring. We all know he is a softie inside. So don’t be surprised when he hugs you randomly or touches you out of the blue. It’s just Yuta being Yuta.

: ̗̀➛ He is EXTREMELY protective and will snap at any man who comes near you with a bad moto. If you feel uncomfortable somewhere or around someone he will take you away or ask to fight them in the ring, but literally no one will hurt you or harass you with Yuta around

: ̗̀➛ This man makes the best food, I’m telling you.

: ̗̀➛ I’m telling you, this man likes when you ride him, his finishing move includes his hips coming up. So Yuta loves to fuck you from underneath as you look down at him getting weak legs

: ̗̀➛ Also loves you sitting on his face, not letting you move until you’re begging him (will not take that fact back)

: ̗̀➛ He enjoys teasing you with his beard when he eats you out as every time you say ‘it tickles’ he continues, eating you out like he was starving.

: ̗̀➛ Yuta is really good at learning fast, so if you teach him how to specifically please you, he will do it ten times better. His fingers hitting the perfect spots inside of you

: ̗̀➛ This man will leave you a mess and look over you with a proud smile, knowing that he did that to you

: ̗̀➛ If you are a wrestler as well, he would want to be a tag team sometimes (Making sure the BCC likes you)

: ̗̀➛ Likes kissing your neck so the feeling of his lips and beard linger on your skin even after he’s gone, so you’re stuck thinking about him over and over again

: ̗̀➛ At first he was a shy romantic, not being affectionate in front of others, but eventually he didn’t give a fuck and he just started to do whatever he wanted

: ̗̀➛ Was a little shocked by you wanting to give him oral, but once he felt your lips he gave in and couldn’t help but throw his head back and enjoy it, way more than he ever imagined

: ̗̀➛ Even with his hair growing out, that won’t stop his love for keeping eye contact. He loves to lock eyes with you and feel how heated the tension can get between you both

: ̗̀➛ He is younger then some other wrestlers so he has a lot of stamina and get sometimes get turned on by the smallest things. Such as you just sitting on his lap, he would try to ignore it until you start to feel his problem

: ̗̀➛ Literally one of the best boyfriend/husband you could find, he is a sweetheart out of the ring and will always show acts of service and give you quality time. Always giving you those little things he saw you peak at but put down

[izzibeeb]

The Two Gentlemen of Verona is insane because if you read it without context you could reasonably interpret it as a well-written, thoughtful and cutting critique of patriarchal society and toxic masculinity. You could easily see it as satirizing the way women are objectified and dehumanized, and have their suffering swept under the rug when it’s not convenient to address.

I mean, it isn’t subtle. The second scene has Julia outright say that when women say no they mean yes. Proteus claims Sylvia is the sun and therefore shines bigger and brighter than Julia who is merely a star, even though we now know that the sun is just a medium-sized star. The only way for Julia to safely travel is to pretend to be a man. If Julia from Verona is traveling as a man, who are the “Two Gentlemen of Verona?” What does it mean to be a “gentleman?” Valentine tries to perform masculinity by lying that he’s killed a man (and “slew him manfully”). Proteus asks for a picture of Sylvia, which he sees as a valid replacement for Sylvia herself. Sylvia is the only person to show Julia true compassion. Sylvia & Julia are clearly set up to be romantic rivals, but Sylvia has such a strong distaste for Proteus that there’s no chance of that. “Her eyes are gray as glass, and so are mine.” Valentine is introduced essentially as “one of the good ones” but once it becomes convenient he tries to GIFT SYLVIA TO PROTEUS. Sylvia has NO LINES for all of the ending while the men around her argue over who gets to marry her. SHE IS LITERALLY SILENCED.

But no. William Shakespeare honest-to-god wrote that play as a regular comedy with a happy ending. Presumably did not think about the implications of any of that one bit. He just thought all of that was normal.