#and feel like I shouldn't have to go to work

[the-cats-noodles]

Everytime I see this, everytime, someone brings up marriage as an exception and I can't help but think, really?

I get it, promises are important (to death do us part, which is in and of itself an unrealistic standard but whatever i dont have time to talk abt that) but I feel like people forget that marriage for love is relatively recent? The point of marriage being to join households and pass on property is much older (and the origin of the whole "only death can make us separate" bc property and inheritance) like, the reason people stayed together was bc of duty not love and that was a very different environment than the one now (which is good) but it still means we're talking about a standard that is unrealistic in our current environment (not to mention the insane amount of murder over not being able to get divorced in the past, like it's a very good thing we can end marriages now)

There's nothing wrong with marrying someone and wanting to stay with them forever (we chose to do this for love and that was good actually), but can we stop pretending this idea is universal?

Making a promise is all well and good, but people change and their promises do too.

Like, yes you keep growing as you get older and yes you might grow closer with your partner (and that's perfectly normal and okay) BUT you might also grow apart and that is ALSO PERFECTLY OKAY

Saying that marriage is something to exclude from the idea of decentering permanence is kinda ignoring all the people who really shouldn't be staying together but "have" to (for the kids, reputation, etc) and anybody involved definitely feels that dynamic shift...

Just, yeah "keep your promises" but also know that breaking them is a part of life and its much better for both parties if you break a promise instead of wither away trying to uphold it for some perceived sense of duty or obligation to people whose opinions literally DO NOT matter

(If you wanna be with one person forever? great! If they don't agree bc they don't love you anymore? Oh well, tough luck, I guarantee you'll be better off letting them go then forcing them to stay in a legal contract, which is what marriage becomes when you don't feel love for the other party anymore)

Also I get most people don't want to force someone to stay in a situation that makes them miserable, at least I really hope they don't, but when (as a society) we place more importance on the whole 'till death do us part' bit and less on the 'I love you and want to show it' (or even say the only way to show it is to hold onto that person forever) then it kinda forces people into this idea of "having" to stay

And look, counseling is great, it can work wonders, but it is NOT a miracle worker. It can't fix everything and it doesn't have to bc A LOT of marriages aren't broken they're just fizzling out

Am I making any sense? Who knows, but I was raised in a community where ending a marriage or relationship was worse than cheating bc "marriages are work"

They are, but you also retire from work when it becomes a strain and you can't do it anymore. You can quit a job if it doesn't fit. I'm not saying marriage is a job, but I am saying that if we expect marriage to involve work we can expect it to reach the point where people just DONT WANT TO DO THAT ANYMORE and that's okay

I'm begging: please stop insisting marriage is different from other relationships in this regard bc it isn't. It's sweet and a wonderful experience but it's still just a love between two people and we can't expect that to be magically enough to stop the natural progression all relationships go through.

You lose friends over time but some stay around. You lose family over time (like, no contact in this case not necessarily through death) but some stay around. You lose lovers and partners over time but some stay around. And that's okay, u just don't see how the last one is somehow expected to have more weight.

(Which I believe was op's point? That they're all temporary and that's a good thing actually)

Like everything is temporary, it's just sometimes that temporary lines up with our lives bc we ourselves are temporary beings, and it's okay if it does and it's okay if it doesn't.

I think a lot about how we as a culture have turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success.

Like… if you open a coffee shop and run it for a while and it makes you happy but then stuff gets too expensive and stressful and you want to do something else so you close it, it’s a “failed” business. If you write a book or two, then decide that you don’t actually want to keep doing that, you’re a “failed” writer. If you marry someone, and that marriage is good for a while, and then stops working and you get divorced, it’s a “failed” marriage.

The only acceptable “win condition” is “you keep doing that thing forever”. A friendship that lasts for a few years but then its time is done and you move on is considered less valuable or not a “real” friendship. A hobby that you do for a while and then are done with is a “phase” - or, alternatively, a “pity” that you don’t do that thing any more. A fandom is “dying” because people have had a lot of fun with it but are now moving on to other things.

I just think that something can be good, and also end, and that thing was still good. And it’s okay to be sad that it ended, too. But the idea that anything that ends is automatically less than this hypothetical eternal state of success… I don’t think that’s doing us any good at all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[myntrose]

Missing You !

ೃ⁀➷: how the l&ds boys are when they miss you.

a/n: I want these men so bad it hurts. n e ways trying something different from smau 🤍 this is part one, will write the other boys later. Also pls send requests !!

content warning: the boys missing you to the point where it's a bit concerning. maybe ooc. Suggestive in Xavier's part towards the end. Did not proof read srry💔

ft: Zayne, Xavier x reader (separately)

pt. 1 , pt. 2

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ zayne (705 words)

the hospital holds an unnerving chill in the air. everyone can feel it; the staff, nurses, patients and the other doctors. and even though everyone could feel it, no one chose to acknowledge the source of this tension. because no one wants to disturb Dr. Zayne when he's in one of these moods.

It's another hard day for Zayne. The paperwork seemed endless, he's had to deal all sorts of patients, and he hasn't seen you in a week. You were out in a mission, nothing out of the normal for a hunter. But Zayne couldn't help but worry. He loves you, knows you're more than capable of handling yourself, but worrying about you comes as easy as breathing to him. It's second nature, an everyday thought.

Just as he starts to steady himself, the ink of his pen explodes on the report he was writing. He about ready to lose it, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. Zayne isn't usually this disoriented, and it's making him go mad.

Moving from his desk, Zayne paces around his office, opening your last message. it stresses him out that it was 2 days ago.

ms.hunter: ugh this mission is so dumb. smt happened and now it looks like ill be gone longer. im sorry babe :(((

He grips his phone a little harder. Paces the room with heavier steps. Breaths another sigh.

What is wrong with me?

A knock at his door disrupts his pacing.

"What?"

Zayne doesn't realize he said that with a bit too much bite, a bit too coldly. The door opens to reveal his new secretary, looking like a scared little lamb entering the lions den.

He looks at his secretaries face, realizing his harsh tone. Zayne murmurs a quick apology, asking his secretary if there was something needed.

"There's someone here to meet you, Dr. Zayne. Said they had an appointment?" The secretary trails their sentence like a question, knowing that Zayne shouldn't have any appointments today. Poor thing was shivering from the doctor's cold demeanor.

The veins on Zayne's head are almost visible now. On top of this day, an unscheduled appointment? Had it not been for his doctors oath to not harm, he would've denied this appointment.

Another sigh leaves him, as he tells his secretary to let the mystery appointment inside his office. Zayne makes his way back to his desk, head in hands trying to compose himself.

"You really shouldn't be sighing so heavily, Dr. Zayne. Heard it's bad for you"

Zayne's head whipped so fast towards the doorway, that you almost left bad for laughing at the action.

He blinks once, then another, before standing up and meeting you halfway across the room.

" 'm sorry for not texting you sooner, but I've been working twice as hard to get done with my mission-"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Zayne crashes his lips into yours. This kiss was desperate, filled with longing and want. It's almost startling, usually Zayne is more composed than his.

"would be more composed had you told me you'd be arriving back today" Zayne responds, perfectly reading your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he kisses you again. This time, he's softer, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling your face.

You're the one to pull apart first, desperately needing air. Looks like your boyfriend missed you more than you realized. Oh, this was gonna be so fun.

Zayne scoffs, but he's still holding you close. "I do not scowl. It's just been a stressful week at the hospital."

You laugh at that. God, he missed your laugh. He missed you. He walks the both of you to his desk, where he sits you on his lap as he takes a seat.

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week."

"A week too long, my love"

While you and Zayne catch up, the rest of the hospital is glad that the chill in the air has died down. Looks like the staff knows who to call when their doctor is in that mood.

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier (570 words)

there's only a few things that causes Xavier to wake up. Either you shaking him awake, peppering his face with kisses, or when you steal the blanket from him.

Actually, it's mostly you that causes him to wake up. And right now, the reason why sleep escapes him is because it seems like you escaped the bed at some point.

Xavier feels around your side of the bed, only to be met with emptiness. Confused, he wakes up, and looks around to see the room still in pitch darkness.

2:34 a.m. It's still horribly early, so you wouldn't have woken up for work. Plus, Xavier knows your schedule better than he knows his. He knows that you don't have any kind of missions to attend to right now.

So, where were you? A sudden rush of thoughts occur at once, and Xavier can't help but assume the worst scenarios. He jumps out of bed and checks around the apartment.

Bathroom? No. Living room? Empty. Kitchen? Quite. He's going a bit crazy, because where did you go?

He just about to rush outside when he hears the sound of keys opening the front door. Turning to the sound, he watches as the door opens to reveal you.

You, holding a bag from the nearby 24/7 convenience store. You walk in, not realizing that Xavier was watching as you enter the room.

You're holding your phone in your other hand, staring at it. It wasn't until you looked up that you noticed you were being watching by your boyfriend.

Your words don't make it to his ears. Rather, he answers you with a question of his own.

"Where were you?" His voice is deep, laced with a serious tone that doesn't quite suit him. Oh no, was he mad?

"I went out to buy ice cream. I couldn't sleep and wanted something sweet. I texted you where I was!" Defending yourself, showing Xavier the bag with a few ice cream bars.

Oh right, he never checked his phone. Xavier pulls his phone out of his pockets, and opens his notifications to see that you in fact did text him where you were.

"Oh."

You move to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Yeah, oh is right. What, d'ya think I just left without saying a work ?" You only meant that jokingly, of course. Turning around, Xavier is right behind you, caging you between himself and the fridge.

It wasn't until you looked at his eyes when you realized that, oh, he was worried. The realization sets in, and you understand what just happened. Xavier had woken up, and genuinely thought you were done.

Your eyes soften as you look at him, moving your hands to his face "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Xavier melts into your touch, and you both stay like this for a while.

You speak up first. "Why don't we go back to sleep?"

Xavier opens his eyes, looking down at you. "Actually, I'm not sleepy right now. I think I'm hungry."

"Do you want some of the ice cream I bought? I got your favorite flavor- Xav- Xavier why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I said I was hungry."

"Oh...?!"

Later that morning, you had to call into work "sick" for both you and Xavier.

[dfstolenart]

Oh baby | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: you and Spencer unexpectedly become parents despite not being together officially

A/N: This is probs my fav fic I’ve written, so far. Hope you guys love it<3 lmk your thots:D also not proof-read I just wanted to get something posted.

BYR(b4 u Reid): Kind of a situationship?, nervous and scared Reid | kissing lol <- [warnings]

You woke up feeling absolutely miserable, maybe even worse than a hangover. A wave of nausea hit you hard, sending you rushing to your bathroom.

Dropping to your knees in front of your toilet, you barely had a second to catch your breath before you started throwing up, your stomach twisting with each heave “gross” you muttered

Flushing the toilet, and brushing your teeth you run to your alarm reading the time 7:30 am

Thirty minutes before you had to be at your desk

You throw on something work-appropriate but comfortable, not having energy to put much effort into your appearance after the rough start to your morning

As you walk towards the door, your eyes flicker to your calendar. Something makes you pause, and you decide to check it

A sinking feeling settles into your stomach when you see it’s around the time you’re supposed to start your cycle, but you quickly brush it off not wanting to stress yourself out even more

Cycles change all the time you convinced yourself it was just happening to you

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you hurried out, making a beeline for your desk.

“Just in time.” Spencer noted as you arrived

“I was worried I was going to be late.”

“You had exactly one minute to spare.” He held up a cup of coffee “I picked it up on the way.”

You took the cup but eyed him skeptically before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards a quieter corner, his brows furrowed in confusion

“It’s a nice gesture, really,” you said as you lifted up the cup “But this looks a little suspicious.”

“Getting you coffee is suspicious?” He questioned

You sighed “I just don’t want the team in our business. They’re already catching on, and I’d rather keep this between us.”

He considered that for a moment before nodding “If it helps, I’ll buy Derek coffee tomorrow to throw them off.” He suggested

You couldn’t help but smile “you’re annoying.”

Spencer chuckled, then, to your surprise, laced his fingers with yours “you know.” He said matter of factly “If anything looks suspicious, it’s you pulling me somewhere private for a conversation.”

You nodded agreeing with him “You’re right.” and with that you let go of his hand “I’ll talk to you later.” you say as you walk away from the tall gorgeous man

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss the way your fingers felt together or the sounds that leave his mouth when he laughs

It was like music to your ears

You know you shouldn't feel that way since what you guys have isn’t official, and you didn’t want to get hurt.

A few days have passed and it was like each day was worser than the last, now it was headaches, fatigue, nausea all creeping in at the worst moments

But you're convinced its just a bug, between the stress of the last case you and your team did and the lack of sleep it makes sense that your body is shutting down

Except, your girl friends at the BAU don't believe that one bit

“Geez, you look pale.” JJ says as she leans against your desk, arms crossed “And she’s been running to the bathroom a lot.” Emily joins in

You wave them off “I'm just coming down with something”

“Yeah that's what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Penelope recalls “What is this an intervention?” you question

“Nope, just your friends worried about you.” JJ says as she shared a knowing look with Emily and Pen

“It’s nothing.” you assured them

“Hey, I brought you some tea.” Spencer says as he joins the group, setting a cup down in front of you. His eyes scan your face with concern “you look sick.”

Your stomach twists at his comment “Do I really look that bad?” you ask feeling a bit insecure

Spencer's eyes widen slightly, he stumbles on his words “No-no, not bad. I just meant… you seem unwell. That's all.”

Emily smirks, shaking her head “Way to go, Dr. Reid.” she grabs her files and walks off

JJ gives you a sympathetic look as she stands “And that's our cue to leave. Come on, Penelope.” Garcia leans in as she follows JJ “Feel better sunshine.” she says before disappearing down the hall

Spencer shifts on his feet “I’m sorry. I shouldn't of had said it like that.”

You sigh, feeling guilty for your reaction “It’s okay. I’m just feeling extra sensitive today. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He studies you for a moment, then lowers his voice “Have you thought about seeing a doctor? You've been sick for awhile now.”

You shake your head quickly “It’s not that serious.” but Spencer doesn't look convinced “Well…If you need anything, I'm right here.

You offer him a smile “Thanks, Spence.”

As he walks away, you stare at the tea he left behind. The more you think about it, the more unease settles in your chest. What if this isn’t just a stomach bug? What if it’s something worse.

And worse than that, what if you’re right?

As soon as lunch rolled around, you grabbed JJ, Emily, and Penelope by the arms “Come with me. Now.”

“Where are we going?” Garcia asked, eyeing you curiously “A store.” You hesitated, lowering your voice “I need a test.”

All three of them stopped in their tracks, wide eyed “Like a test test?” JJ asked, eyebrows raised, you nodded the fear in your eyes answering for you

“Okay.” Emily said already walking “Let’s go.”

“Wouldn’t you want to do this with…you know, whoever might’ve done this?”

“Uh, no. He’s busy.” You said quickly, leading them toward the exit, but just as you reached the door, Morgan and Spencer appeared

“Hey, where are you guys headed?” Morgan asked “Yeah, I thought we were all getting lunch at Caesars.” Spencer added, Rossi standing beside him

JJ reacted fast “We’re getting medicine for y/n” Spencer frowned “Oh I can come. I know which one will work best.”

“No, no, no, we got it.” Garcia said quickly waving him off Spencer narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off, but eventually nodded “Alright. See you later.”

The four of you bolted out the door.

Inside the store, you stood frozen in front of all the pregnancy test selections, overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” You groaned, scanning the shelves “These are easy to read.” JJ said, grabbing a Clear Blue and handing it to you

You grimaced “Do I have to put it on the register?”

Emily snorted “You literally profile murderers for a living, but you’re scared to purchase a pregnancy test?”

“No wonder you might be pregnant” Garcia teased “Were you too scared to buy condoms too?”

You shot them a glare “Hilarious.”

JJ rolled her eyes and grabbed the test from your hand “I’ll put it down.” you sighed in relief “Thank you.”

At the register, you all smiled stiffly at the cashier as he rang it up. He barely acknowledged you guys, but that didn't stop you from feeling widely judged.

Back at the BAU, the four of you rushed to the restroom.

“Pee on the stick, wait five minutes, and we’ll either celebrate or cry.” JJ instructed “Your call.”

You exhaled, feeling like you were preparing for battle “Alright.” Stepping into the stall, you did what you had to do, then set the rest down on the counter, turning it away from you

“Timer is set.” Garcia announced, your heart pounded, you knew what the results was going to be, and that terrified you more than anything

The four of you sat in silence on the restroom floor, gross, but none of you cared right now. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air

“Time’s up.” Garcia finally said glancing at you with concern, you swallowed hard “I can't look.”

“Want us to?” Emily offered you nodded “Please”

JJ picked it up first. The three of them leaned in, their expressions unreadable. Then, without a word JJ handed it to you

Your hands trembled as you looked down

Pregnant

Your heart dropped, and a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to break. Not here, not now. Instead, you slowly nodded, forcing out a breath “okay”

“So…is this good or bad?” Garcia asked, studying your face, you opened your mouth, then closed it “I don't know.” you admit

“Are you going to tell him?” JJ asked gently, you nodded “eventually.”

Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze “We’ll give you time to process, when you're ready, we’re here.”

Each of them gives you a small, comforting smile before slipping out of the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling

“Why? Why? Why?” you whispered to yourself

This wasn't just about you.

This was about Spencer.

Your coworker.

A man you weren't even in a relationship with.

How the hell were you going to tell him?

You stepped out the restroom, exhausted and ready to be anywhere but here. Your body felt heavy, your mind even more so. All you wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out.

“Hey! We’re still on for tonight?”

The familiar voice made you stop in your tracks. Of course it was Spencer.

“Tonight?” You frowned, genuinely confused

He gave you a puzzled look “Movie night? At my place? Like it has been every Friday for the past six months?”

“Oh…right.” You let out an awkward laugh, and rubbed the back of your neck “Sorry, I’m just- are you sure you want me there? I don’t want to get you sick.” You say even though you knew what you had wasn’t contagious

“I’ll be fine.” He said with a small smile “I can disinfect everything.”

You hesitated before nodding “then, I’ll be there.” “Great.”

Silence settled between you two, he looked at you like he knew something was off, and part of you wanted to just say it right then and there.

“Well, I should get back to my files.” You said quickly making an excuse to leave.

Before you could slip away, he gently grabbed your hand “Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice was quieter now, more concerned.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You forced a reassuring smile, but his eyes searched yours unconvinced

“Did I…do something?”

“What? No!” Your stomach knotted at the thought of him blaming himself “why would you think that?”

He hesitated “Just how you’ve been acting recently, I want to know if it’s because of me.”

You sighed, squeezing his hand before pulling away “It’s not you, I promise.”

He nodded but the uncertainty was still there “Okay.”

With that, you turned and walked back to your desk, diving into your files, forcing yourself to focus. For a couple hours, it worked. You got lost in the work, grateful for the temporary escape— until a voice whispered right into your ear

“So… who’s the father?”

You jumped, nearly knocking over your coffee “Jesus Garcia.” She grinned unapologetically “Sorry, did I scare the baby?”

You glared at her “No, you scared me.” She leaned in closer “Can I take a guess?”

You gave her a warning look “You don’t know him.”

Garcia scoffed “Sweetie, I know this guy. Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell just by the way you two interact. You guys are getting it on.”

Your face burned “Penelope.”

She wiggled her eyebrows “So, it is who I think it is.” You sighed, lowering your voice “You have to keep this a secret. Please.”

She immediately sobered, nodding “Of course, but you are telling him, right?”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Spencer who was talking to Hotch across the room “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you guys, no matter what you choose to do.” Garcia said warmly you gave her a small grateful smile

“Thank you. I just- I don’t know what to do. I know my options, obviously, but I don’t think I can go through with that. But at the same time, I don’t want to do this if Spencer isn’t ready. I don’t want to hold him back.”

Garcia shook her head “Look, he loves you. It’s so obvious the little things he does for you, the way he talks about you when you aren’t around. He is going to be ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your hands “we’re not even together.” The admission felt embarrassing, like it somehow made everything worse

“Honey, you know Spencer. It takes him awhile, but he’ll come around to making it official. He’s just scared.” You exhaled leaning back into your chair

“Yeah…maybe.”

“not maybe— definitely” she corrected “Just give him time.”

The work day ended, and you had finally returned home, you threw yourself on your bed still in your work clothes but too lazy to change

You laid there deep in your thoughts until you drifted off to sleep

You weren’t sure how long you had been out but there was knocking at your door that woke you

You looked through the hole and seen it was Spencer, he looked worried “Spencer?” You question as you open the door allowing him to enter

“I was calling, you never answered. I got worried.” He tells you as he looks at you scanning to make sure you were alright “I fell asleep, I’m so sorry.” You apologize “no it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

“Today was exhausting.” You admitted. He gave you a look of understanding “Can I do anything to help?”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He was always quick to offer whatever he could “No, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? I give great massages.” He teased, a small smirk playing on his lips, you let out a small laugh “I’m sure, Spencer. How about we just watch a movie?”

He nodded, clearly liking the idea “what are you in the mood for?”

You thought for a moment. After everything today, you just wanted something comforting, something that reminded you of simpler times

“The Fox and the Hound.”

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft smile “That’s a good one.”

“Can you set it up while I change?” You asked “of course.” Spencer replied without hesitation

You stepped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you emptied your pockets your fingers brushed against the pregnancy test. You sighed, staring at it for a moment before tucking it away in your nightstand drawer

Once you had changed into something more comfortable, you walked back out, expecting to see Spencer in the living room but he wasn’t there. You glanced around and spotted him in the kitchen.

“I decided we needed popcorn.” He casually said as he poured some into a bowl “That’s a good idea.” You smiled

Settling on the couch, you grabbed the remote as Spencer joined you, sitting down beside you with the bowl in hand.

You pressed play and it didn’t take long for you to immersive yourself in the familiar comfort of the movie

The movie held your full attention, so much so that you barely noticed every time your hand brushed against Spencer's in the popcorn bowl.

It had always been your favorite movie as a kid, but now watching it while being pregnant, it felt different.

Then came the scene, the scene that always broke your heart as a child and even now as an adult

The little old lady drives off in her car, away from the Fox leaving him in the woods to be free. It felt like it hit you harder then ever before, and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears

Spencer turned his head, noticing the way your shoulders shook “Are you crying?” He asked softly “no.” You lied even as you wiped at your cheeks

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, trying to play it off. Spencer shook his head, shifting to face you. Without a word, he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear “Hey, it’s alright. It’s a sad scene.” he agreed

Your eyes met his “I think I could use that massage now.” a small smile played on his lips “I think you could too.”

You turned around, away from his gaze, and pulled your hair to the side giving him full access to your back. His hands found your shoulders, pressing in firmly. The tension in your muscles melted under his touch.

“You’re tense.” He murmured. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut “that feels good.”

“So, what’s been on your mind?” He asked your eyes snapped open “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been really stressed lately, today especially. You told me it’s not me, so… what is it?”

You hesitated, knowing this was the moment. You couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“Spencer.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, his hands stilled “yeah?”

You turned to face him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. His stomach dropped, he didn’t know what you were about to say.

“Hold on.” You murmured, quickly getting up. You rushed to your room, grabbing the test from your nightstand. When you returned, Spencer was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern

You sat down, heart pounding “I have something to show you.” You say as you hold out the test to him, Spencer took it hesitantly, his eyes scanning the results

His lips parted slightly “oh.”

That single word terrified you

You weren’t sure what he was thinking.

Spencer on the other hand, his mind was racing so fast he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. His fingers tightened around the plastic stick.

“Say something.” You say as you watch him intently, his head snapped up, eyes wide, searching yours as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces “You’re…pregnant.” He said

You nodded “yeah.”

Spencer swallowed hard, looking back down at the test, then back to you “it’s mines..right?” He questioned hopeful that you wouldn’t have been with anyone else “of course it’s yours.” You said quickly, feeling a strange mix of emotions, offense, anxiety, fear.

“Right. No, I-i didn’t mean it like that, I just-” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he tried to process “This is…a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Spencer went quiet again, his mind clearly catching up to reality.

And then, finally, he looked at you “How are you feeling?” He softly asked “I don’t know. Scared, overwhelmed.” You admitted

Spencer nodded and reached for your hand, taking it in his, it felt warm and grounding.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before taking his hand away and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it up between you.

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while.” He admitted “It’s a list… of all the reasons I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Your breath caught “Spence-”

“I’m not finished.” He said quickly, his eyes pleading with you to let him get it all out “I’ve been planning to tell you for so long. Too long. I should’ve said something the moment I realized it was you.”

You just stared at him, heart pounding, and he cleared his throat “I even calculated the probability of a successful relationship based on compatibility factors and shared interests.” He let out a small, nervous laugh

That made you smile. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze

“I want to be with you.” He said, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable “But don’t say yes because of the baby. Say yes because you want me the way I want you.”

His eyes searched yours “say something?” He whispered, you swallowed hard, then nodded towards the paper “Can I read it?”

Relief washed over his face as he handed it to you without hesitation “You just carry it around?”

He nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips “It reminds me of you. So even when you’re not with me, it still feels like you are.”

Your chest ached, and you smiled at him with tears in your eyes “I want to be with you.” You say

Spencer had never felt anything like this before, it was overwhelming in the best way, pure happiness, the kind he never thought he’d get to have.

Despite the fear of the unknown, he knew one thing for certain, he was happy it was you he was going to experience this with.

He pulled you into him, the embrace feeling both familiar and new. This time, there was no more unspoken words, no more uncertainty. Just the two of you, together, exactly as you were meant to be

“So…do the girls know?” He asked, remembering how strangely they all had been acting at lunch, you nodded “They were with me when I found out.”

Spencer exhaled, his eyes softening “I wish I had been there.”

“I know.” You murmured guilt tugging at your chest “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head “I just, I don’t want to miss anything. Not with you, not with this baby. Every doctors visit, every sick day, every moment, I want to be there.”

His sincerity made your heart ache in the best way “I want you to be there too.”

His fingers gently tilted your chin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, and lingering.

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, asking for more, you gave in without hesitation.

After he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes full of wonder “I can’t wait to see you grow.” You brushed a hand over his cheek, returning his smile “I can’t wait to see you become the best dad.”

Should I make this into a mini series ? Where the next part can be them telling the team? 🤭

[thealexchen]

Why Dontnod's games feel original and inspired (and why Deck Nine's games don't)

So, I've talked at length about how Double Exposure feels much more like a corporate product than a playable piece of art entertainment [My initial thoughts on the DE trailer] [My thoughts on the early access paywall] [My thoughts on the weird marketing].

But now with the release of Lost Records, I feel like I have no choice but to confront the question: were any of Deck Nine's games truly original or inspired in any way? And honestly, I have to say no.

Objectively, I could say it's because Deck Nine literally has not produced any original IP's since their rebrand from Idol Minds in 2017. Their only narrative adventure games are all part of the LiS franchise. But even their most original game, True Colors, pretty obviously follows the first game's narrative formula (young woman with a superpower investigates a sudden disappearance/death in a small town with a dark secret, has two opposite sex love interests, learns about a twist villain, is nearly murdered, and goes through a psychological nightmare in the last episode) to a tee. But oh look, there's also a LARP!

But I believe there's more to it than that, because when I look at Dontnod's games, they are always inspired by other works. Life is Strange 1 plays very clear homage to Twin Peaks with the Pacific Northwest setting and Rachel Amber resembling Laura Palmer. Max Caulfield is named after the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, another novel about the fleeting innocence of childhood and superficiality of society. Life is Strange borrows tropes from Donnie Darko, Groundhog Day, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stand By Me, and even Blue is The Warmest Color for its themes and plot points. Just take a look at its "Shout-out" page on TV Tropes. And the result is... something completely original, with riveting plot twists, memorable characters, and an ending that will make you cry.

This shouldn't make sense, right? You'd think this big soup of references would turn into an indistinguishable mess of cliches, but Life is Strange managed to be a synthesis of everything the writers loved and were inspired by, to become something completely new. Why? Because nobody had tried to take Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko, and The Catcher in the Rye and turn it into a video game before! And make it gay!

The point being, Dontnod consistently makes original material because they take creative risks. This is definitely not done lightly, since they still need to be a company that generates profit, but they still prioritize making art over selling out. Their stories feel inspired because they are inspired; when writers love what they're writing about, the result is a passion project that has loving, clever nods to all the works that are woven into it.

So perhaps a way to reword that first question is to then ask, "Have Deck Nine's games ever been inspired by anything?" And unfortunately, the answer is still no. Instead, they just copy what they hope will sell well. And a bland imitation for the sake of generating profit is never going to produce anything that feels original.

This takes me back to Lost Records, which is also clearly inspired by the same works: Twin Peaks, It: Chapter One, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, The Goonies, Stand By Me. But again, no other game studio besides Dontnod has ever looked at these works and thought, "But what if it starred teenage lesbians instead?" Or, more specifically: "How do we capture the spirit of what made these media great and incorporate that into a new story for a new audience?" And those characters have so much thought and care poured into them too: while I've been disappointed that Double Exposure Max looks airbrushed to hell and back, I love that the Bloom & Rage girls have asymmetrical faces, acne, freckles, body hair, skin discoloration, and diverse body types. Double Exposure is marketed as nostalgia bait for fans, where Max is reduced to a prettied-up, polished-up, representation of nostalgia, not even her own character anymore, in a game that otherwise has no connection to the original. Her quips are reduced to "Hey! Remember our good ol', dad-joke cracking, dorky Max Caulfield??" and her grief is shoved aside for "Hey, look at that appealing new love interest! Because we knoooow y'all love your sapphic romance, right?"

By contrast, Lost Records has only been out for 10 days, but I already feel like the girls are some of the most memorable characters I've come across in gaming for the niche they fill. Swann seems like your typical Max-like dork, except she's also a movie buff and giddy about bugs, horror, and the paranormal; and has clearly been affected by her mother's fatphobic beliefs. Autumn is a level-headed leader who always stuck to her desire to help others, and her Blackness naturally informs her desire to feel valued and not cause trouble in a small, very white, conservative town. Nora intrigues me so much for going from a fun-loving rebel punk teen to a more gender-conforming, capitalist-leaning, influencer businesswoman. And Kat feels like an evolution of Chloe's cynicism, where her scrappy charm belies an almost unsettling obsession with the occult and a deep, tragic chasm of rage at having to confront her mortality far too young. They make sense. They feel carefully written, genuine, and like real people.

But most of all, Dontnod's games have never felt like products. In fact, most of their characters have historically gone against the grain of what traditionally "marketable" characters are. The first LiS took all these aforementioned stories about straight white men and chose to remix and retell it through the eyes of a young, queer, time-traveling girl instead. Tell Me Why is the first AAA game with a trans protagonist, and Tyler is voiced by a trans actor in all the language dubs. Lost Records decided that it would tell its story through four queer teenage girls, with women writers onboard, and fucking own it. As long as Dontnod keeps making games that stick to their creative integrity, I'll keep respecting their vision in whatever they decide to create next. Also, maybe I should finally watch Twin Peaks.

Thank you for reading!

[writing-flower]

“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Chapter II: “Dancing with fabric (and glances).”

WARNING: Panic attack

Masterlist

I was on a stage, too big to be a normal one or at least that was my perspective. I was wearing my suit, with the fans in my hands as the fabric touched the floor.

There was no one by my side, I was alone.

There was no one in the seats in the audience either, not a single person to watch me dance at that moment.

I let out a sigh. I started dancing.

The music in my head started playing but now it also started to be heard on the stage. slowly. Little by little. The music continued to grow.

I moved with the fabric of the fans that slowly became longer and longer.

I reached a point where I could no longer appreciate what was in front of me, I could no longer feel the cold floor of the theater.

But the lights. They were getting brighter as the music came to an end.

They wrapped me up in such a soft way, it was so suffocating.

I always wanted to be in the spotlight, to be the leader, to be the one leading the dance.

Why does it feel so different now?

I fell to my knees at the same time that the music slowly stopped along with that voice that made me remember that everything was a dream.

I hadn't realized how big the fan fabric was now, so long that it reached to the ends of the stage, The skirt also grew now it was so long and big that I couldn't stand up because of the weight of the fabric on my waist.

It shouldn't have been heavy, but it was.

It's too big for me.

When the fan fabric stopped, I fixed my gaze on the audience.

The only lights were above me, they moved where I was going but never where I wanted.

I couldn't shine light on them. I wanted to shine light on them to see their faces.

What expressions will they have? Are they waiting for me to keep dancing? Even though I can't get up, they want me to continue with the show?

Just talk, say it.

I will, just please...

Stop

Looking

at me.

[Name] immediately gets up from her bed feeling her heart beating quickly and painfully, her feet were numb as were her arms.

While she was sitting in her bed, she tried to relax. Is this what people call "lucid dreaming"?

When she finally felt her legs and arms move just a little to get used to it, it felt like a million ants were walking on her limbs.

She sighed and then tried to get up, she managed it but a little wobbly.

She grabbed a towel along with a set of clothes to go to the bathroom.

She loved her new room, I think it would be more accurate to call it her fiveteenth room.

Compared to the previous one, which was already starting to be quite small for her and too childish, in an attempt to free up her room a bit as she ran out of space.

She found a not so small door in the ceiling, she could barely open it and saw the enormous space that had moved to that hidden part of the mansion.

But obviously being a attic, it didn't have a bathroom, that was the only thing [Name] regretted.

Once she could feel her arms and feet much better she opened the attic door and carefully went down the stairs.

"What are you doing up there, little one?"

[Name] almost fell down the stairs from the fright, she immediately looked back even though she was on the stairs to...

"First with the child...and now with the hypocrite." [Name] thought, trying not to frown, well, not so much.

"Dick, you scared me!" She did her best to fake that squeaky voice she remembers.

And thank goodness it worked. Except for one small detail.

Dick frowned.

"Dick?"

"Did something happen? Or why that face?" She finally came down from the stairs and with a little force, she pushed the stairs up and in turn closed the attic door with a small 'click'.

"What face?"

"Well, you know, that confused face..." She smiled slightly, but inside her head she was analyzing him, exactly his expression.

Dick genuinely had a face of confusion hidden, he was smiling and using his body to express otherwise.

But his eyes narrowed for a few moments before she asked about his expression.

"Oh! Don't worry little one, It's just that I've never seen that attic, and with good reason."

Dick walked past [Name] and checked the entrance to the attic better, either tensely or intentionally the entrance was very well camouflaged.

[Name] nodded. "I thought you'd be in Bludhaven by now."

"I decided to stay a few days, mostly to rest." [Name] nodded again, keeping that small smile. "And you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

Dick laughed at her confusion.

"What were you doing up there?"

[Name] opened her mouth slightly and then closed it instantly, What the hell could she say?

"Umm, well, I was looking for some things for my dance classes!"

"Your dance classes?"

"Yep! When I found that place I started using it as a place to store some clothes or supplies that they sometimes ask us for in class." This time the tone was a little shriller, it was a mix between the voice she was faking and the nervousness of being caught.

Dick only looked at her for a few moments before instantly lowering the attic door without breaking his gaze.

"First, it's bad to lie to your brother and second, you're a very bad liar, little one." Dick smiled before carefully climbing the stairs, frowning at the unsteady ladder.

[Name] just sighed in frustration. "Let's see, how the fuck did Dick fucking Grayson know I'd be here?" She didn't say anything, nothing came out of her mouth.

Dick on the other hand was greatly surprised by what was inside, two mattresses one on top of the other, a nightstand, two not so large trunks accompanied by drawers to store clothes.

There were some hand-painted colorful bottles hanging in the higher parts of the attic, surely her creations.

The only lights illuminating the place were the skylight, a row of light bulbs, and the lamp on the nightstand.

It was a room.

Why would his sister sleep here?

Why didn't he know this?

Why...she didn't tell him about this?

"[Name]" He called her but there was no answer.

He turned around and with a leap landed in the hallway of the mansion, leaving the attic.

Only to realize she was gone.

"Shit..." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. "Was this always her room?.."

Of course not.

And that was what was causing him an uncomfortable stomach ache.

He glanced at the attic that was still open, his curiosity got the better of him again, he went back in.

But this time he looked more closely at the "room."

The lights were off leaving only the skylight as a light source, it felt quite comfortable actually.

The orange and yellow light of dawn began to stream even further through the skylight, starting to flood some parts of the room with its light.

But the moment the light reached a certain angle of the room, everything lit up with colors, distracting Dick a little.

The lights from the bottles illuminated the rest of the room, which was still dark.

Now the whole room was illuminated without even a single artificial light switch on. Dick stood admiring for several long minutes the little light show his sister had created.

That admiration turned into something else when he noticed that on top of one of the trunks was a medium-sized box.

He walked over slowly, grabbed the box and sat down on the makeshift bed.

A long skirt and a very long fabric was the first thing she saw, but what caught her attention was the only colored fabric that was in that box.

Two fans with gradients of warm colors, yellow, orange and red. Red was what remained the most on both fans.

"This is what Alfred gave you...I don't think it's suitable for a girl of your age-"

Wait.

"How old are you?."

[Name] arrived at the bathroom tired from running, well, now she has to get away from Dick, how ironic.

"Oh. My. GOD." She immediately leaned against the bathroom wall and slowly lowered herself until she ended up sitting.

She brought her hands to her hair, ruffling it quite a bit.

"Will this affect anything? I mean, technically do I travel back in time, or am I reincarnated? IT DOESN'T MATTER." She jumped back up and began pacing back and forth.

"Actions have consequences, allowing Dick into my room will surely change something..." [Name] stopped instantly.

"In fact... he, no, no one, found that place, at no time during my childhood until I left...What did I do?-"

Her breathing gradually began to become more agitated than before.

She felt her palms getting sweatier than before, she felt like she had been punched in the stomach and all the air she had been knocked out of her but she couldn't get it back no matter how hard she tried.

Gradually her legs as well as her hands began to shake, she didn't feel it because she was so lost in her head until she fell to the floor.

Her legs gave out as she trembled and she brought her hands to her chest. She felt dizzy.

Ten minutes passed, she still felt the trembling in her hands but her legs stopped shaking, she was still kneeling on the floor.

The dizziness disappeared but the result was a sharp headache.

"Shit...and I have to go to school." She muttered as she tried to stand up with the help of the sink. "Please, just for today, no more surprises."

"Whoever is behind this, leave me the surprises when I find a way to get back and leave here..."

If there is any way. Safe.

NOTES: Heyyyyy guess who's back? Well I genuinely hope you all like it.

You know, if you want to ask questions, ask them, and if you want to be on the taglist, let me know in the comments.

In the end! I love you muak muak muak💋

TAGLIST:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864 @eyeless-kun @welpthisisboring @saiichai @leeiasure @shycreatorreview @bat1212 @vanessa-boo @midnightgrimoire @thereeallink @c4xcocoa @jsprien213 @stargirl404 @chericia @a-lurking-fae @kye-chen-r @alittletiredcry @lfiee @mishkapi @cxcilla @alittlelostmoonchild @ocean-mochi @randomlyappearingartist @thegothamsiren @lilithskywalker @gmwtsw @deathbynarcisstick @wizzerreblogs @mariadvorak @stardustnightfall @cristy-101

[psychemochanight]

I know you hate labels on them, but if you HAD to label the Robins, how would you do it?

The first one, the second one, the third one...

Ok, out of jokes-

Dick: The first one.

With all that this implies: Dick being the one who founded the bases to follow, the one who made the mistakes that he later taught to correct, the one who saw the empty spaces that others later filled. The first one who had to be everything and learn on his own.

Jason: the DC experiment.

DC DIDN'T know how to deal with Dick's exit as Robin, it's like they never really planned on letting him out, but it happened. Jason became a character of trial and error.

At first he was an exact copy of Grayson, since the first one was successful... But obviously the fans didn't want a Dick Grayson with another name. So what did they do? They gave it a twist and did the opposite... It doesn't work well either.

And instead of continuing to try (even though Jason already had a fan base by that point), they chose to "get rid of" the character and then revive him as a "blank canvas."

A character who had a lot of potential, but they didn't know how to handle him and now the most relevant thing about him is his death because DC doesn't know how to give him continuity.

Tim: the robin of the fans for the fans.

Tim is often referred to as a fandom self-insert, and honestly, it's understandable why.

It's the Robin that gave off vibes similar to the original that was the most loved at the time, but at the same time, had real characteristics that fans could identify with.

Tim is the one with the most "normal" story, he is the one who could be any civilian, the one who seems like he wasn't meant to be, but he was.

In my opinion, the one who best balanced his personality as Robin and as a civilian.

(And that the fandom decides to totally ignore haha </3)

Although DC needs to learn to let go of Tim and let him grow. At this point I think half of the fandom doesn't even know how old he is or what hero he is.

Steph: the Robin who deserves better.

I don't just mean story-wise, obviously none of the characters deserved the shit they suffered and deserve a better life... I mean in general.

The real forgotten Robin is Steph, not Tim, and I'm not going to discuss it with anyone.

They (DC) keep writing the same story over and over again, rewriting the other Robins' history (especially Dick), but never giving us more about Steph.

Give my girl her story. Just like Jason, she has so much potential, give her her moment to shine!

(although, here I have to open parentheses for this: Steph has a much more consistent story than Jason, her role is more defined, but it feels outdated at this point. And, in any case, I feel like Steph shouldn't even really be a "bat", but rather someone independent... Or similar to Nightwing at least, who doesn't wear a bat on his suit).

Damian: the one who deserves not to be Robin.

Let me clarify: "the one who deserves not to be Robin", not "the one who does not deserve to be Robin".

Damian needed to be Robin, it was the key point in his development and I think Dick did the right thing by giving him the role of Robin...

But I feel that he deserves to stop being Robin too.

I think he's going to stop being Robin? No, not with DC writing him. DC has a history of resetting their characters to a certain point, they always bring them back. I don't think they're going to release Damian soon.

But while every character deserves to have a life outside of being heroes, I feel like Damian deserves it the most out of all of them.

The others are adults who have already chosen this, but Damian is a child, a teenager by now... And letting him be something more than the one who was created to be in the underworld, I feel that is the best for him.

I think he should stop being a vigilante? I'm not that sure, but that his life should definitely NOT revolve around that.

"The mission" should not be HIS mission.

So... Yeah, that.

I'm not sure if this makes sense to you tho-

[kanonkitastuff]

I mean, the main difference is that if you write about sex as a virgin, it's probably gonna be read by people who've actually had sex, whereas those other things.... Less likely. But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't. Just that you gotta research meticulously if you don't wanna write something that rings as incredibly off to a lot of people. For me, researching for smut was the best sex ed I got, and I've read smut by people who've never had sex that was better than smut by people who have had tons.

But yeah. Someone is a lot more likely to go, ".....well that's not how THAT works," over your best guess at a sex scene than your best guess at what time travel feels like, so... Just keep that in mind, I guess.

Do you think people who are virgin should write smut? I feel like most of them don’t even know what they’re writing and just write what they think sex is

the implication this ask suggests that people who write about murders, cannibalism, politics, magic, royalty au, sci-fi, wars, supernatural, time travel, medieval era, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins must be murderers, cannibals, presidents, wizards, royalties, astronauts, ghost hunters, soldiers, time travelers, knights, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins in real life is so funny to me

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Light's Chapter 412

Brief summary: Cale and the APs versus the Knife of Chaos. Alberu becomes the light amidst the chaos.

==========

The planted flags began to take effect. The divine item of GoC was called the Knife of Chaos, and was quite powerful that the saint simply watched Cale "battle" it out against the knife.

The Knife of Chaos made Cale feel all the emotions and thoughts the sacrifices and believers felt, from the sacrifices' cries of suffering to the believers' cheers of joy. It also made Cale recall KRS's painful memories.

Cale could finally hear what these cries and cheers were about. 'Ugh, team leader! Team leader, you shouldn't be going like this!' 'Jung Soo, Jung Soo!' 'Cough, father, because of that monster, that monster! Father and mother! Uwaaah!' 'Please, please save me. No, please save my child. Please, please-' He could hear the cries that Cale experienced as Kim Rok Soo. 'Hehe, Team leader Kim. Why are you being so stiff? Is it because you want to look like Team leader Lee Soo Hyuk?' 'Pwahahaha! No, those people are dying because they're weak, so why should our guild send support?' 'Ha, hahaha- Rok Soo-nim. This world now belongs to the powerful. Let's enjoy ourselves.' And the laughter he did not want to hear. Memories, records he did not want to recall, came flooding back.

That second and third line... 😭😭😭 That was KRS crying at the deaths of LSH and CJS. 😭😭😭 I did not expect this gut punch today.

These emotions overwhelmed him, and if it weren't for DA and SEW working hard to protect him, he would have died. Fortunately, Cale heard DA's calls to him, and he snapped out of his painful recollection. DA and SEW's struggles were evident though, as Vitality of the Heart began to work too, making Cale cough blood.

As Cale was lost amidst the gray chaos, he saw above the light shining from Alberu's sword and realized that the crown prince was trying to help him. But given that he was underwater, he needed a way to go up there. So Super Rock responded, and the chapter ended with a cliffhanger of the earth at the bottom of the lake shaking... Ah, the countdown to Cale fainting had begun. 😂

Ending Remarks I was expecting a fight against the saint, but not against the divine item itself. Next chapter would be Cale reaching out to Alberu's light. Would Cale soon faint and leave everything to Alberu, fulfilling the flag he planted earlier?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your first day at work brings both excitement and anxiety. It's been a long time since you felt possibility ahead of you. You don't know that you ever really have. That's probably why you did what you did. No excuses. You made bad choices and didn't care who you hurt. 

You grab your new bag, in your brown blazer, a white satin blouse, and a black skirt, and head off. You feel like an imposter already. You get on the bus, standing as you avoid the musty seats, and figure you'll be sitting a bit too long that day. 

The office is building is just as it was before. Smaller than other business towers. The grey brick gives it an antique feel. Quaint, almost. You don't think you'll feel that way for long. 

As you enter, you recall the withering look from those green eyes. The timbre of judgment in his voice. The glint of mocking. You should be used to it by now, shouldn't you? 

You approach the office door and hesitate. What do you do? He gave you a time. You have no key. The door does not give off an essence of welcome. 

You knock and shift in your heels. You got the lowest ones you could find and they're still awful. You hear movement within. Mr. Laufeyson opens the door as you straighten your posture. 

"Good morning, sir," you greet. 

"You will fetch my coffee," he skips over any semblance of propriety. Even you know how to say hello. 

"Oh, yes sir," you reply, put off by his suddenness. 

"There is a cafe off the lobby. You must've passed it on your way in. Cortado." He demands. 

You take a breath. He could say please or thank you. You're used to a lack of manners but when you feel demeaned, you get a bit itchy. 

"Yes, sir, uh, I--" 

"You will be reimbursed. File a report," he turns away, "I would give a company card but... let's keep it all on file." 

He gets to his office door and you watch him in a silent simmer. You go to the empty desk and set down your bag. You dig out your wallet before tucking the rest underneath. 

You find your way down to the cafe, nestled between a law office and marketing consultancy space. You join the line and peer up at the menu. What did he say? C... something. Cortado, that's it right there. 

You step up for your turn. You pay for the drink and wait at the end of the counter. With your first task accomplished, you set off back to work. 

You enter the office. It's deathly silent. You can't help but look over your shoulder. Your hand balls to a fist instinctively. 

Before you can approach his door, it opens. 

"Thought I heard you," he struts out. "You may shut the door. And sit." 

You nod and offer him the cup. He points to the barren desk. You set it down and take your seat. He disappears. You frown. Was it some test? 

He emerges again, this time pushing a green leather chair. It looks much comfier than your own. He rolls it next to you and sits. You fidget and tug at the cuffs of the blazer. 

"Well, you can follow orders," he slithers. "Your attire is less... casual. The coffee is hot," he reaches for the cup and sips. "You will turn on the computer." 

You look under the desk for the tower. He scoffs and taps the laptop beside the monitor. You don't know how you missed that. 

"You will need to work outside the office at times. Now, I've a tracker installed and security, so there's no use in selling it," he warns. 

You seal your lips and nod. You won't show your irritation. Let him treat you like a criminal, at least he's paying you. 

You open the laptop and press the power button. It's very sleek and shiny. Brand new. 

"And the monitor," he directs and sips again. It's somewhat agitating to hear. 

You push the button along the bottom of the screen. He points to a post-it beside the touch pad. "Credentials." 

You type them in and hit enter. At least he's helping. Most of the courses you took were online and had zero support. You can figure things out on your own but you don't think he trusts you to do that. 

"I've had an employee ID set up. That is here," he points lower down on the post-it. "There is a folder here for you to review standard practices and expectations." 

He gestures to the smaller screen as you quietly observe. He sighs. 

"You have any questions?" 

"No, sir," you say. 

"And you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," you answer. I can read, tickles your tongue but you refuse to unleash it. 

"Wonderful, so let me take you through a few of our basic programs just so that you are set. There would be the email, then the task tracker, and finally, the most important, my calendar," he explains. 

"Yes, sir," you repeat. 

He wheels closer, his hand clasping onto the back of your chair. He keeps his cup in his other hand, extend one finger to motion to the screen. He helps you get into the inbox. 

"I recommend you review previous responses as well the templates provided in the Procedures folder." He explains. 

You bend and reach below the desk. You sift in your bag as he tuts, "whatever are you doing?" 

You sit back up with your notebook and a bic pen. You show him, "taking notes." 

He hums, "well, that is a good idea, isn't it?" 

He looks back to the screen as you flip the cover around the spirals. He's expecting you to fail, just like Dina, just like everyone else. You won't if you can help it. 

💼

You send another message to Mr. Laufeyson. For your first day, he insists on reviewing your emails. You let him know you have some waiting and go back to reviewing the folder of policy. It's not too difficult, only dry. You like that. 

How long did you live on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. It still could but there's no one actively working against you. Only your own bad habits. You just need to resist. You need to keep moving forward. 

'Send it'. His message is simple. No praise, no tips. Just approval. That's good enough for you. 

When lunch comes, you eat at your desk. You packed a plain peanut butter sandwich, a bottle of sparkling water, and small container of trail mix. Enough to tide you over. What you can spare. 

As you chew the crust, the door opens. Laufeyson sniffs and crosses his arms as he faces you. You swallow and wrap up the last bite. 

"Peanuts?" He says. 

"Oh, are you allergic?" You ask. 

"I prefer almond," he snips. "You're eating?" 

"Sir, you said twelve was my lunch." 

He squints then untangles his wrist to look at his watch, "so I did." 

You let out the heavy breath in your chest. You fold up the parchment around the sandwich and put it in your bag. Your stomach's doing those somersaults again. 

"You may finish," he says. 

"That's fine, sir, I was done," you assure him and grab a tissue to wipe your hands and mouth. You crumple it and put it in the bin. He looms close. 

"Well, if you aren't busy, another coffee would be in order." 

You look at him. You still have ten minutes. This isn't the yard, there's no guard counting down the minutes. You get up. 

"Yes, sir," you answer. 

"Oh, don't skip to the door," he says drolly. 

You tilt your head. His attitude drips from his posture as he checks his nails. You have to keep from scowling. You've been polite but he can't seem to show an ounce of decency. Well, he doesn't need to, he is your boss. 

"Just the coffee?" You ask. 

"Yes, dear, simple as," he assures flatly, as if you can't understand a coffee order. 

You bend down and grab your wallet. You put your hand on the desk to push yourself up and his shadow shifts. You glance over and his green eyes flick away from your skirt. You stand and tug it straight, worried it might have hitched up. 

"Excuse me," you sidle past him. 

"Do hurry," he bids. 

You're thankful to be away. You feel less suffocated by the guards with their night sticks, following you around as if you might make a run for the fence.  

It's busier at the cafe. You get to the counter and order. It's the same as before but even more crowded. Sweat speckles over your scalp as the walls seem to close in. 

You gulp for air as you get back to the lobby. You go up to the second floor and nearly burst through the office door. Laufeyson is by your desk, waiting. 

"Something the matter?" He muses. "I trust you didn't abscond with a coffee unpaid for?" 

You steady yourself and cross to him, offering the cup, "no, sir, it was only busy and I didn't want to be late." 

"Oh?" He arches a brow. "You seem rather worked up over it." 

"I'm not," you go around the desk and sit. 

"Ah yes, a different sort of cage now," he remarks, "no bars, just a wool blazer and a desk." 

You look at him, "I... no, it's not bad." 

"I suppose the comparison makes it tolerable," he snickers. 

"I guess," you agree and sign back into the laptop. 

"I've a client coming shortly. Please be sure to show them in with a smile." 

"I will, sir," you open the inbox. 

"You will?" 

"Yes," you repeat. 

"Let me see." 

"What?" You jerk back and pivot the chair toward him. 

"Smile for me." 

You stare at him then furrow your brow. He's taunting you. You know it. You can't let him get to you. 

You smile, or attempt to. 

"I know you might be out of practice but do try a little harder." He goads. 

You wipe your face and look down. You inhale. You smile again, this time resisting the tension tugging in your cheeks. He tilts his head. 

"Mm, you look almost like a lady," he sneers over the brim of his cup. 

You're starting to suspect he didn't hire you for good intentions. To be a helping hand. No, he's testing you. Trying to see how long it takes for you to break. Well, you won't. 

"Thank you, sir," you face the computer again. 

He sighs and struts away. The smile falls off your face and you open the newest email. You pluck away at it, falling back into a tempo between reading and typing. 

A knock comes at the door and you nearly slide out of the chair as you push it back. You get up and tap around on your heels. You brace yourself and remember. Smile. 

You turn the handle and pull the door open. "Hello, how are you today?" 

You sound stupid, like that churlish woman at the clothes shop. The man double takes and his lips slant, "I... the door says..." 

"Mr. Laufeyson is in his office," you explain.

The man nods and thoughtfully taps his chin, "ah, makes sense. He's hired a secretary." 

"Sir," you step back to let him in. 

"Aren't you polite?" He strolls in. "You might tell him Pine is here." 

"Yes, I will." 

You skirt around him and go to Laufeyson's door. You tap lightly. "Sir, your-- Mr. Pine is here." 

You wait at the door, trying to hear through it. It swings open and you teeter back. Pine steps forward, his hand outstretched. 

"Laufeyson," he shakes the others' hand. "Well, have you sorted it?" 

"You always bring me a challenge," Laufeyson waves him through then looks at you, "Pine, you take tea?" 

"As always." The man passes between you into the back office. 

"English breakfast," he points at you. "Quickly." 

[mechanical-sunchild]

I'll not get defensive (again) and admit that yes I think you're right.

It becomes disheartening to see a lot of physical alterhumans speaking in earnest about how outcast they feel and how they do indeed feel like they're being told 'shut up, that's not real, you just can't be that'.

Which by and large I think is because many think that any mention of the physical being different gives them free reign to be as rude and dismissive of the experiences posted as possible and to do things like decide for the community what we're really experiencing and what we should actually call it with no input from physical alterhumans ourselves. And when we give input, the 'impossibility' of our experience and p-shifting is used as the dead horse to beat us with.

So when I saw mentions of the same I had just had enough but this was probably a 'get your own post bub' kind of situation and I apologise.

I'm sure the present company in this post knows the difference between asking deeper questions to determine why someone is saying they are what they are, what their experience is, why they say it is etc just to gain understanding and promote discussion unfortunately it's not a skill many have.

The very same thing did happen for fictionkin and it was equally unpleasant and caused a lot of fictionkin to hide themselves for a long time. I don't want to see that happen again.

For as much as physical alterhumans need to be shown that some doubt, curiosity or want for proof isn't harmful or dismissive I think others need to be taught how to ask questions and what is just plain rude to do. I've yet to see, for example, a non-physical alterhuman defend a physical alterhuman from someone who is just suddenly dismissing their whole experience as false 'because science', which I hope would happen.

So it ends up just feeling like 'us versus them' which as I mentioned is currently taking up so much time that the physical alterhuman community isn't talking amongst itself, working on language, origins, reasons, possibilities and red flag behaviour that shouldn't be encouraged. It's not impossible for others outside of the community to help us find our feet but gosh are many just being plain rude. No wonder it's so easy to feel like we're just being told to shut up!

Ok I'm rambling again, just going to leave by saying I am not against reasonable doubt or people not fully believing what doesn't sit with them right I just think a lot of people are just being rude and dismissive and making physical alterhumans feel hunted right now and that's stopping a lot of progress. Next time I will just get my own post.

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[scarlethexelove]

ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴄᴀʀᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇx), ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏꜰꜰ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2095

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ⚠️ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ⚠️, ⚠️ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ⚠️ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ (ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ)

ᴀ/ɴ: ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴇᴀʀʟ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪxɪᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ (ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ). ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙɪɢ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ @wandamaximoffsbadgirl ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰɪᴄ.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A small tear runs down your cheek as you watch Wanda walking away. A suitcase pulled behind her as she starts her new life. A new life without you. Everyone always joked you two were inseparable but now things are different.

An arm tightly grips yours and you quickly wipe your cheek. “Baby it's time to go. You still have me.” Sharon whispers in your ear. You nod, she's right you did have her. She was all you had left and so you clung onto her. Following obediently behind, turning back and watching Wanda until you couldn't see her anymore. A flame within you extinguishing with her.

You and Sharon have dated for a year now.  What you haven't realized is how she has slowly isolated you from all your friends and family. Wanda was the last one to stick around and now even she is gone.

You were curled up on the couch, looking at your phone. When was the last time anyone had talked to you? Wanda had been the last one, but it was before she left...she hasn't messaged since.

“What are you looking at?” Sharon's voice cuts through startling you. “No-nothing.” You shouldn't be scared to look at your phone right. You did nothing wrong so why does it feel like you have. Everything has gotten worse since Wanda left. Things have shifted in Sharon and not for the better.

Sharon comes over, trying to take the phone from your hand, gripping at your wrist just to take it from you. Seeing Wanda on your phone has her grip tightening. She pulls you closer, anger seething out. “Why are you waiting for her to contact you!? She left you! Everyone left you but me! Am I not good enough!?” She says through gritted teeth, mear inches from your face.

It takes everything in you not to whimper as her grip tightens and the fear that runs through you. She's right everyone has left you. She's the only person you have left. On her good days she is the sweetest but those days are few and far between now but you keep your hopes up. Hope that Sharon will go back to the woman you fell in love with. At Least you keep telling yourself you loved her.

The days pass and it feels like more bad than good. Everything seems to be setting her off. You can't do anything right. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore...not with the bruises and the hollow look in your eyes nowadays

Today your phone rings for the first time in forever. You rush out of the bathroom and try to get to your phone but you're stopped dead in your tracks when Sharon picks it up and immediately sends it to voicemail. “Sharon.” You let out in frustration as you try to grab your phone from her. 

“I told you, you're mine.” Sharon grips your wrist. You try to pull your arm away and as you do she lets you go and you lose your balance falling down the stairs. That was finally the last straw and you went to one person you knew would help. Natasha, she helped you get a restraining order and move out. Everything seems to finally be looking up.

You stayed with Natasha for a bit and finally saved up enough for your own place, but you should have known better. You had finally moved in and finally had some semblance of normalcy back. That's until you open the door to your sheer horror of Sharon standing in front of you with flowers in her hands.

You try to slam the door shut, but she stops you. Sharon was always stronger than you and though you still tried to push the door she only pushed back harder, making you stumble and fall back into the apartment.

“Baby please.” Sharon walks into your apartment. 

“Sharon I'm not your baby and I have a restraining order. You need to leave.” You try to sound confident but your voice shakes giving you away.

“I know you were upset baby but I've changed. Give me one more chance baby.” Sharon pleads with you, sounding genuine. You don't know if you should believe her or not. She sounds like she really means it. “One date baby. Please, I'll prove it to you.”

You argue with yourself internally. One date can't hurt. “Fine. One date. I get to pick the place.”

She has a wide smile on her face. “Deal.” So you reluctantly get ready for the date while Sharon waits for you sitting on the couch. You feel like it's a whirlwind as you change and head out to a restaurant. You picked somewhere public so you knew she couldn't try anything

It doesn't take long as you both fall into a comfortable conversation. It feels like before, before all the lies and abuse. You let the wall fall as the date goes on. Things feel normal, natural. You had missed this. Could it be better again? Be like this all the time? You feel her hand reach yours, her thumb brushing the back of your hand so gently. You hadn't felt a gentle touch in so long.

All of your walls fall as the date continues. You both walk and talk after eating, holding hands. As the night comes to an end and she walks you home. As you get there and lean against the door frame “This was nice. We should do it again.” You smile. 

“Why not continue it now?”Sharon says and you shake your head.  

“Not tonight.” Sharon looks upset like she wants to say something. To try and convince you, but you kiss her cheek. “Next time.” You say stopping her with the unexpected affection.

So she lets it go for the night. And is convinced for another date later in the week. When that rolls around it goes great. You get closer again and when you finally feel like everything's perfect it starts again. The good days start getting bad again and you know you should leave, but Sharon convinces you to stay, convinces you that she's the only one who's gonna love her. You can't believe how stupid you feel for giving her this second chance.

It all comes to a head one day when you try to go out for the day. “You're not going anywhere. You have stuff to do around the house.” Sharon’s anger already slipping into her words. 

You sigh. “Sharon please. You said you changed.”

You go back and forth until it turns into a screaming match which then gets physical, slapping your face and then grabbing it. “You don't get to go out. You stay here and do as you're fucking told!” You feel so small when she towers over you, voice booming and hands on you.

Your voice is small as you speak. “P-please Sharon. I ne-need out.” 

Sharon’s grip on your face tightens. “I said no you fucking dumb whore.” Her hand goes up and she backhands you now. By the way this is going you know it's not going to end well so you try to fight back.

You certainly try and it ends up worse than ever. With you in the hospital. A broken nose, busted lip, bruised ribs. Everything hurt so much as you stared up at the ceiling. “How could I be so stupid?” You whisper to yourself while Nat had stepped out and tears run down your cheeks

You hadn't even heard the door open before a familiar soft voice broke through. “You're not stupid.” Your head snaps up seeing Wanda. You viciously wipe your tears. Hissing in pain. “Sweetheart.” She is quickly next to you pulling your hands away and gently wiping your tears away. 

“Why are you here?" Your voice is small. 

“I'm still your emergency contact. They called me first.” Wanda’s voice was soft. Soft as if you were a deer ready to bolt. 

You never wanted her to see you like this. It makes you want to cry more. “Oh...I'm sorry...you were states away...you didn't have to come Wands.” You look up at her eyes still blurry. 

Wanda just smiles down at you. “It was worth it. Anything for you is worth it to me.”

Your lip wobbles as a small sob escapes your lips. You've missed Wanda so much and to see her here now you don't know what to do. Wanda's heart breaks as she slides into the bed next to you being gentle not to hurt you. You grip her shirt as you cry into her. “I'm sorry.” You sob.

Wanda rubs your back, gently humming as she rocks you. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about sweetheart.” She soothes you back down until you're practically asleep in her arms. You want to blame it on the meds they gave you, but she always made you feel so safe. She makes a vow that she won't let Sharon touch you ever again. She hates herself for ever leaving you with her. She has to tell you now how much she loves you, even if it ruins everything.

Wanda takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart?” She asks softly. You look up at her sleepily, vulnerable, she can see it on your face. 

“Hm?” You ask, blinking a few times up at her to get the sleep out of them. 

“I love you. I have for a really long time, but I never wanted it to ruin this, us. I know I should have just said it before, but I just–” You cut her off, pulling her down and kissing her, not caring that it hurt your lip.

Wanda holds onto you as you melt into her. When you finally pull back from the kiss you're slightly out of breath. “I love you too wands.” 

She leans her forehead against yours. “I'm never leaving you again. I'm never going to let her hurt you again. I'll kill her if I have to.” Wanda mumbles between the mixed air.

You melt into her. You feel so safe and loved and protected with her. “That doesn't sound like a half bad idea.” You mumble against her.

“I will do anything to protect you detka.” Wanda brushes some hair out of your face, with a soft smile on her face. 

You know it's genuine coming from her. Nuzzling against her hand and smiling for the first time in months. “I know you would Wands.”

Both of your minds start to wonder about how to get rid of Sharon. Can you actually kill her and get away with it? Once you're out of the hospital the two of you plot a way to do it. You plan it out perfectly. 

Poison is what you both settle on. It would take nothing to convince Sharon to come over so that you execute your plan. You have her come over. A tasteless, odorless poison in her drink. She thinks nothing of it until she's choking and Wanda comes out from the other room. Watching her with a smile as she sputters for air.

Wanda gives you a kiss as she wraps her arms around you. She turns to look at Sharon. “You'll never hurt her again. No one for that matter.” You can't help but giggle and nuzzle into Wanda.

You can't believe you did it and got away with it. Life just felt great now. You never had to worry about it anymore. You were safe with Wanda always.

The cops came by looking for Sharon but it wasn't because she was missing. She had also gotten herself into more trouble than what she had done to you. The cops asked if you saw her which obviously you said you hadn't since the attack.

Of course they believed you. How could they not? With the record she had racked up they assumed she fled the state. As you waved the cops off Wanda's arms wrapped around you from behind. Her chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched from the front porch as the cops drove away

You turned in her hold and smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Thank you, love.” 

Wanda chuckles lightly. “For what detka?”

 You can help the smile that spreads across your face. “For saving me.” She leans down with a smile, kissing you tenderly, passionately. You knew this was meant to be. You were always supposed to end up with Wanda.

[seirabaaahon]

CotL fic recommendations: February 2025

Alright, folks, the second list is ready! Looks like we updated 130 fics last month that fit below 50k, and I checked a good chunk of them! In case you don't know what I'm doing, I thought I would make a monthly list of the coolest fics I checked that either updated/had been published in February. This list will be continued next month and will contain only the stories under 50k. Please note that it's not a list of literary criticism but a short recommendation list with stories that made an impression on me. Same as last month, feel free to add your propositions in the comments! 1. Cult of the Lamb: Redemption by Rooney_2108 (Narilamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/55033615/chapters/139518334 Alright, so, I admit I do appreciate two things: a well-written hurt/comfort and Narilamb starting as enemies. This fic has it both. While the start might be a little slow, I actually enjoyed coming back to it after work, and I think it's a solid read if you're looking for something to relax with. 2. Pin Feathers by april_island (Narilamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/63091189 Super cute, short, and in character! I loved how assholy carrying Narinder was! The writing was beautifully smooth and on point, too. I highly recommend sparing your 10 minutes here.

3. (E!) In His Skin. by Wiolli (Narilamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/63004246/chapters/162494956#main A sweet body change story in which Narilamb is trying (emphasis on trying) to not be horny and miserably fail. The smutty parts got my top notes.

4. Thawing Hearts by twooftheluckyones (Narilamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/62883583 I seriously liked the characterisation of the Lamb as a weak, slightly lost leader and Narinder as too tired and too cold to deny his feelings anymore. This fic shouldn't have 300 hits, you all. Honorary mentions: A Cowpoke's Sweetheart by MsWikit (Narilamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/58406584/chapters/148769491 I recommended this fic last month, but we got two new updates in February, and I'm vibrating seeing every single one of them. You don't like Westerns? Me neither! Dinos? God, I only know t-rex! Go read it. It's the best thing that was updated this year.

Romantic Torture by Divinities_Hymns (LeshyLamb) https://archiveofourown.org/works/55670350/chapters/145379476#workskin I'm still on chapter 4 here, but the general idea is making me invested in this story. An accidental wedding, manipulative husbands, the god of Chaos trying to regain his power while falling in love? With Narinder still looming in the shadows? I'm smashing that next-chapter button every time. JANUARY RECOMMENDATIONS

[llamagirl28]

Wait, if Mordred's dragon companion now has 4 archetypes, and is a RO, does it mean you have to write at least 4 variations for every scene? So basically you are adding not 1,but 4 ROs. I admit, I myself am really curious about how these routes might go, especially about reactions of Mordred's family and friends, and of other folk, and am curious about lore implications - will it be a first precedent, is it just very rare, but not unheard of, or is it common enough to warrant some 'traditions' - i mean, dragons and humans, despite cooperating for a long time, still have their own culture, and how will this be navigated is interesting as well.

All in all, good luck! You arw spoiling everyone with the amount of variety in your work, ahah

In a way, it's kind of like having four ROs, but it doesn't feel that intimidating. I think one of the big differences is that I was already planning on fleshing out the character and giving them more scenes, and The Dragon Friend™, unlike other potential ROs has a more fixed relationship with Mordred, meaning they're always close friends with a deep bond so adding romantic variations doesn't feel like that much of a leap.

Dragon-human relationships are not unprecedented. They're not very common, but not unheard of either. Both human and dragon societies are largely accepting, although dragons might be more apprehensive because of their tumultuous history with humans. For other dragons, already very immersed in human culture and society, such a relationship wouldn't feel like that big of a leap.

Out of the humans who wouldn't date dragons their reasoning varies: some just aren't attracted to dragons, others don't think their lifestyles would mesh well, and then there are those who think humans and dragons shouldn't get that close to each other.

Those in human-dragon relationships may or may not choose to marry, some get a partnership contract done (marriage is a human thing, while a contract is a more neutral way of settling legal matters). If they choose to raise children, their only option is adoption as they can't have offspring.

All things considered, human-dragon relationships are not common enough to have formed specific customs or traditions.

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Maggie I'm sorry I didn't write this essay, as you know I was not impressed with how the last chapter went 😭😂

Me as I read chapter 5:

This is a long one so get comfy, have a drink and listen- 📖

1. When Baela wanders out of the bathroom in a fuzzy purple robe and a gale of steam, she finds you dressed in your grey work uniform and sprinkling a packet of flower food you got from the Rite Aid down the street into the vase of sunflowers. You are smiling to yourself; you can’t seem to stop.

A) she just sounds as if she's on an advert for something 😫 or modelling on the cat walk, amongst the smoke machines. Like effortlessly cool, you what I mean?

B) like she's always model ready and glam. Like she's always camera ready 📷📸

C) whereas sunshine is in grey and buying things from a cheap shop (I presume?)

D) aw she's cock drunk in love, cute

2. “Heyyyyy!” Baela says, slow and salacious, hoping for interesting stories. You very rarely have any to share. “How’d the Maroon 5 shoot go? Not so bad, right?”

A) I'm getting vibes from B, she sounds okay sometimes but totally fake the other times- Hollywood baby, gotta be careful who u trust

B) and it went absolutely great

3. “It was good.” You rearrange the sunflowers, pruning any leaves that have begun to wilt. Daylight streams in through the windows; outside you can see power lines, palm trees, a shopping center featuring—among other things—a Starbucks, World Star Vape, and Carl’s Jr.

A) Sunshine is trying to keep a dying thing alive- like her dreams? Her need to be constantly happy? Her ‘cursed’ relationship with Aegon?

B) Everything Is sunny & happy & lively … for now

C) 3 places with addicting things or quick fixes… like a certain relationship? For both parties?

4. “And you survived the bathtub thing, I see.” Her tone implies that you were ridiculous to ever fear you wouldn’t, childish, ignorant, histrionic.

A) How condescending

B) Some people are different and Sunshine shouldn't have to go through that to get famous

C) It's sad to think some actors/actresses would have had to

5. “What?” She reaches into the refrigerator and removes a plastic bowl full of raspberries, sets it down on the kitchen counter, eats absentmindedly as she stares at you. “Really? Why not?”

A) What a healthy choice

B) is She just programmed To eat healthy like for HW aesthetic? (Couldnt be me)

C) Rather have doughnuts

6. You shrug, a little shy but desperately wanting to tell somebody, because that will make it real. Blood burns in your face. “Aegon saved me.”

A) Don't tell B

B) Aw Sunshine is so cute, she thinks of Aegon as her Prince or Knight in shining armour

C) But will he just remove the helmet and show that hes not the hero she thought he was

7. Baela’s eyes narrow and her brow crinkles. You find yourself—as you often do—casually in awe of the smoothness of her skin, the perfect arches of her eyebrows, her expressiveness that is never inelegant. She chews her raspberries very slowly. “Seriously?”

A) She always seem perfect, HW ready

B) Drop the skincare Routine girl

C) Shes angry chewing 😭

8. Her jaw drops open; there’s berry juice on her teeth like blood. “How? Where?!”

A) She Sounds like a predator animal with Sunshine in her sights

B) More untrustworthy vibes

C) I reckon she might screw Sunshine over by telling the tabloids about her Relationship with Aegon, to level uo her career. Or does it out of anger when ss gets more famous than her? Sabotage?

D) pretends to be a friend but is a villain in the end, like Scream

9. “No, remember, he’s not married. He’s just engaged.”

A) Yeah!😠…😶… yeah🫠…

B) I love you SS, but that's not the hair that we should be splitting…

10. “It’s the same thing!” Baela exclaims, and she has completely forgotten about her raspberries. “You’re a cheater, how does that make you feel?”

A) Can't argue with B on this, still bad

B) Lets be a bit nicer to SS please, she's just a baby (but she does need telling)

11. You shake your head; she doesn’t understand. “I know it sounds bad, but when I’m with Aegon…he’s just so…he’s so protective and he’s smart and he’s brave and he actually believes in me, he’s the only person who doesn’t think I’m hopeless and delusional, and he’s always trying to help me, and there’s something about when we’re together that just feels…magical!”

A) Girl, SS, write some fanfic, geez 😅

B) She in love love

C) She in love love (like me)

D) Also me when I try to excuse men's behaviours on dating sites 🙄

12. “Of course it’s magical!” Baela bursts out, and now Jace is peeking blearily out of her bedroom, his dark curls in disarray. “He’s a fuckboy, that’s what they do! He gives you some otherworldly encapsulated experience that leaves you dickmatized but it’s not real, because then he goes home and he does the same thing with his soon-to-be-wife, and then the next day he’s probably hooking up with some other impressionable starstruck client, and you’re standing here thinking you have something special with him when he’s already onto the next girl!”

A) You've woken the baby (Jace), B

B) Dickmatized- don't we all want that to be that

C) So… weird thought but has something Like that happened to B with a manager or dare I say it, Aegon?

D) Or does she know him better than we think?

13. You can’t imagine that being true, and yet you wonder without wanting to: why did he have condoms in his desk drawer? “I don’t think he’s happy with Becca.”

A) i asked about the condoms!! It was sus

B) Me with all my celebrity crushes- “I don't think he's happy with [ ]

C) also what condoms does he use? 👀

14. You look down at your shoes, uninspired white Skechers for work, ashamed. “I guess not.”

A) Woah I wear white sketchers Mags

B) They're comfy lol

15. “Who talks shit about Jace?” Jace asks from the doorway of her bedroom.

A) poor Jace

B) But also maggie does- I've seen what she does to your in fanfics… 👀

16. “—They say he’s a hobosexual and lazy and jobless and whatever, but that man is loyal, he doesn’t even look at other women, and I wouldn’t trade him for anybody. Because apparently it’s extremely fucking rare to find someone who won’t get naked for the first stranger who promises to make all their wildest dreams come true.”

A) Jace just standing there like-

B) It's okay Jace, I know you're better than that (Im actually looking forward to your future fic)

17. .. you remember years ago finding the emails between your father and that hospital intern, and you marvel at how easy it is to fixate on one star and lose sight of the constellation.

A) The last line 😘👌

B) We all make mistakes but she's only done it the once… but will it stay like that? 👀

C) It's easy to judge until you're in that position..

18. Baela tosses the empty plastic bowl into the kitchen sink—it rattles harshly there—and casts you a hard glare as she stalks towards her bedroom in her purple bathrobe. “I am so disappointed in you.”

A) Plastic, plastic, plastic- v much like HW

B) Easy to throw away… Careless of what she does and who she hurts (my tabloid theory)

C) Alright mum sheesh

19. Baela stops and turns around, and now her face is all pity, like you’re too pathetic to stay mad at, like you aren’t cognizant enough to be held responsible. “Yeah. We’re still going to see the fireworks.”

A) Me with my dog, can't stay mad at my baby

20. “Jace can stay here when I’m in Paris, right?” Baela asks. “He swears he’ll vacuum and take the garbage out and stuff. And you know he won’t fill up the sink with dirty dishes, he basically only eats takeout.”

A) Oh so he is capable of looking after himself..

B) SS please make him a proper meal, he needs nutrition

C) I hope SS and Jace bond whilst B ain't there, like best besties but will that only upset Aegon more if he finds out?

21. All afternoon as you are bent low scraping scoops of ice cream out of the freezer and mashing in mix-ins on the chilled countertop, each time the glass door opens and the string of bells jangle you look up to see if it’s Aegon, because maybe he’s found you another job or maybe he just misses you, and he’s daydreaming of you now in the sweltering sunshine that rains down golden and cloudless. But your only customers are strangers: flocks of influencers in yoga pants who pick at Like It-sized sorbets, flustered mothers trying to relay their lisping children’s orders, giggling couples on dates who you love watching, the way their eyes are alight and their fingers forever ache to intertwine.

A) Even as she's in hell at work, her Salve is Aegon (even if he dont show up)

B) Aw she misses Aegon (me too)

C) I hate couples too gorl, how dare they be happy, rubbing it in our faces

22. … your breathing still labored from the hike and guzzling cans of La Croix that Baela packed, awful as always but not so bad when you feel like you’re dying of thirst. As you wait for the fireworks to start, you take a few selfies with the distant incandescent mirage of Downtown to the northeast, towards Chinatown and Elysian Park, towards Apple Valley, Minnesota if you drove far enough.

A) Me and Sunshine are the same? Both hating walks? Damn

B) That drink, she only likes it when it's her last resort. Like any products of HW- she will do anything but that but uses it when she has no other choice? like plastic surgery, etc

C) Shes being pulled in so many directions. What will she choose? Hw & fame or Minnesota, home?

23. In the two minutes you spend debating whether to watch it, he has seen yours, liked it, and replied: Miss America 2025.

A) Alright babe, a bit of a stalker

B) He can calm Down too lmao- so flirty & thirsty (it should be me 😫)

24. “What are you grinning about?” Baela asks from where she is sitting in Jace’s lap, his arms around her waist, and you can’t tell her because you don’t want to make her mad again.

A) Stalker 2

B) Leave Ss to be happy

C) Unless B is sus and has an idea of who SS is talking to…

25. “Just something my sister sent me.” You click on Aegon’s story; he is standing beside a massive grill covered with hotdogs and hamburger patties, wielding a pair of tongs, and wearing his aviator sunglasses and a green apron with seemingly nothing underneath. You like it and reply: I have literally never wanted a hotdog so bad in my life.

A) Bl**dy hell, she's thirsty too

B) But Mags, that image was too hot

C) Like was he naked? 👀

D) I'm a vegetarian but I'd break it for his sausage

26. “You better post the picture we took together,” Baela tells you. “We looked cute as fuck!”

A) Alright B, calm down

B) Why don't you post it?

C) Sort of controlling? Like she never asks, just sort of demands?

27. “You were okay,” Baela says, and they both laugh.

A) i know couples joke but she's never very complimentary with him

B) He deserves better

C) I reckon she could drop him to up her career cuz he's not famous, and seems like a waste

28. “It’s a really good photo,” you agree. And it proves that you have friends to do activities with, that you aren’t quite as pathetic and alone in Los Angeles as your parents and Clara and Tripp and Mason might think. You post it as a story: you and Baela smiling together, Jace in the background brandishing a peace sign. You add a bunch of red, white, and blue hearts for decoration. Aegon watches your new story within a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even like it. You frown down at your screen, confused.

A) She needs some friends (please Jace)

B) As an instagram story so its not around forever (like B's presence will Not be)

C) Ooh why he mad? I hate men lmao

29. “Oh look, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Baela says excitedly, and now there are booming explosions in the darkening sky and threads of shimmering remnants descending like falling stars.

A) Yes it's starting… the drama & explosions start now

30. You are early for your appointment because you want to see Aegon again, and you don’t even try to tell yourself it’s for any other reason. It’s Tuesday, July 8th, and there are still charred firework wrappers and singed sparklers strewn on the sidewalk. You find a parking spot a ways down the street from Aegon’s half-duplex and trot to the front door. You are wearing your tan TOMS wedges, a top the color of dark fertile earth, a green maxi skirt, and swampy verdant eyeshadow to match: matte brown Rewind and sparkly emerald Damaged, both by Urban Decay.

A) Atleast she ain't delusional, that helps

B) He's in such a dump - shows that LA ain't all the glitz and glam- will Sunshine see that?

C) Very dark, earthy tones… calm before the storm?

D) ‘Rewind’ she wants to go back to that night, ‘Damaged’ she will be after this conversation

31. "Aegon must be hella stressed lately because he’s always mixing things up and forgetting appointments, then he yells at me but feels bad about it afterwards and pays me overtime. Well worth it! I think it’s the wedding. Becca’s constantly showing up asking for his opinion about cakes and decorations and whatever and it’s just a lot.”

A) Oh he's always mixing things up… hopefully he'll mix up his fiance soon

B) Becca stresses him out! SS doesn't.. see how that could work

32. Mario is traversing a narrow stone pathway surrounded by a sea of blood-red lava. Aegon’s tank top is the color of the pine trees back in Minnesota; the unbuttoned short-sleeve Oxford shirt he’s thrown overtop is white and wrinkled. The room has been tidied up... Honeycrisp apples filling up a bowl that is blue china instead of plain bone-colored ceramic.

A) Mario again… reflecting Aegon’s medical journey/ life

B) Narrow- meaning he can only go one way in life (get married, give up LA and whatever else)

C) Blood-red lava- either Mario is the disease in his body/ bloodstream (narrow- vein)

D) His tank is the colour of the trees from her home? He's her home?

E) Also earthy colour, they're matching. Both each other’s home

F) Wrinkled white top- he's a disgruntled angel (he's trying his best to help SS) (or dying soon lmao)

G) He's still got a piece of her around, the apples (highlighted in colour, not the plain white of LA)

33. “Hey,” Aegon says, glancing at you but still clicking buttons and swiveling the joystick on his transluscent orange controller.

A) He's paying half attention to her.. whilst he also concentrates on the game (his medical issues taking over his life whilst he tries to be there for her?)

34. “Are you winning?” you ask, meaning the game. Mario veers off the precarious walkway and into the lava, screams and tries to leap to safety, sails over a stone island, hits the lava again and dies.

A) she cares about his interests and him 😭

B) Does she distract him? And is there bad repercussions? (Becca leaving?)

C) Aegon/ Mario is struggling to get back to safety?

35. Aegon chuckles; he sounds tired. His bruised knuckles, five days gone, have sickened to a ghastly green and plumes of opaque violet. “I guess not.” He turns off the Nintendo 64. “How was your 4th of July?”

36. Aegon gives you a disapproving look like he doesn’t quite believe you. You can’t fathom why. “I might have another job for you.”

A) He's tired 😫

A) He's jealous girl

B) We love to see it

37. “Really? Great!” But despite the good news, you’re beginning to feel like you’re sinking. You keep waiting for Aegon to acknowledge what happened here, what you both did, what you were to each other even if only for a few hours under the cover of darkness.

A) Sinking… like the Titantic reference from the first chapter in this office

B) I feel bad vibes about to happen

38. “There’s a casting call for a very minor part in a new Marvel movie. I’m sure that’s not exactly your dream role, and it’s not really what I see you doing either, but you said you’d take anything and it’s an opportunity to get you in front of some big-name people. So I booked you a spot.”

A) We love Marvel (just watched Marvel today actually lmao)

B) SS would be cute as a superhero or sidekick

C) Aegons so clever

39. “I’m keeping an eye on the indie projects that make it to pre-production. I can imagine you shining in a niche little thriller, maybe a romantic drama…you do angry really well, you know. Which is strange, because you’re never angry in real life. But that’s what makes you an actress. You become other kinds of people.”

A) He doesn't see her angry… I feel like he just needs to wait lmao

B) also he might also underestimate her himself? Cuz she seems nice all the time?

C) A romantic drama? No need babe, she's already in one

40. Aegon studies you, his Nike Killshots still resting lazily on his desk. His blonde hair is slicked back from his face; his eyes are a remote somber blue like the ocean through an airplane window. “You alright, sunshine?”

A) What is it about these shoes??

B) He's so beautiful ugh

C) And he cares 😭

41. Slowly, Aegon smiles, and there’s something about his voice that strikes you as smug, maybe taunting, maybe even cruel. “It was that good for you, huh?”

A) Nevermind, jackass

B) But I'd still swoon 😅

C) After punching him

D) is this the real him or an act?

42. Aegon is stunned. He scrambles to his feet. “What—?”

A) Well done, you've made her upset

B) Me too

C) be nicer with your words, you know she's sensitive

43. “Then come back here.”

A) Me skipping my way back after that demand

B) Anything for you King

C) I need higher standards lmao but I blame it on him

44. Aegon sits down too, places his elbows on his desk, laces his fingers together and presses them against his lips as he gazes at you, his large blue eyes glossy and pained. After a while, he says quietly: “This is exactly what I didn’t want. For you to be hurt, for you to be sad.”

A) Ooh he serious

B) Stop with the eyes 😫🥰 ill forgive him too easily 🙈 I won't look

C) He throws my emotions everywhere, I know he cares but stop fucking around lmao

45. On the way here, Aegon stopped at an In-N-Out Burger. You said you didn’t want anything when he asked—you have no appetite whatsoever—but at the drive-thru window he ordered two cheeseburger combos: Cherry Cokes, grilled onions on the burgers, Animal-Style fries. He paid in cash, because he is full of deceit, or at least that is what you told yourself.

A) Idk what to think Of him ordering her food when she didn't want anything?

B) Was he doing it cuz he worries she might not be able to afford a lot of food? Or to remind her not to fall for the fame fad diets?

C) Like someone else said, does he pay in cash so he knows how much he Spent that day due to forgetting?

D) Or is he given an allowance by family or Becca?

E) He loves his Cherry cokes in your fanfic… Do you like cherry Coke by any chance maggie? 😂

46. “Do you want to get skin cancer? Are you trying to look like Clint Eastwood when you’re forty?”

A) Wear that sunscreen bitch

B) Does he think it's useless as he's dying anyway?

47. He gives you an irritated smirk but takes the sunscreen and halfheartedly mists himself with it… Aegon takes large, sloppy bites of his burger, grease dribbling down his fingers; you can only manage queasy nibbles at your own. In the waves, surfers are paddling far out and then riding swells back in, skittering to a stop in shallow water or being dragged under by the gleaming sapphire currents. California gulls squawk overhead and dive greedily when Aegon throws them some of his fries. To the north is a jetty of stones to mark the territorial boundary between the surfers and the swimmers; to the south is a long wooden pier for fishing.

C) He might not make it to 40 😫😭

D) just googled CE, he's 94 damn. Also he did have skin cancer, bless him

A) He does anything for SS 🥹

B) Hes so messy, i find it hot- imagine him eating you out like that 🥵

C) Also how he eats without a care in the world, whereas she nibbles, cuz she has to be cautious? But he's already made his money

D) The surfers are riding high on waves just to be brought down by the same thing?- Fame

E) Gulls are the paparazzi and not leaving u alone and eating the scraps they can get

F) There's a clear divide between the surfers and the swimmers (hmmm)

A) zodiac Calendar, fate. Is fate gonna intervene between them soon?

48. Aegon sighs and slurps his Cherry Coke, ice clinking around in the cardboard cup, red and white and reminding you of those zodiac calendars at Chinese restaurants. “I guess. I don’t know.”

B) He's confused. She's different to the other girls

C) But they shouldn't have done it cuz they're just gonna get hurt

A) Ooh slay? 😔

49. “It wasn’t the first time. I’m sure it’ll happen again at some point. It doesn’t change what I have with Becca.”

B) He truly isn't in love with Becca if he's doing this

50. “Never long-term,” Aegon amends.

C) Can I be the next time? 👀

51. “Marry me, girl, be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation,

A) Cuz he can't do long-term, he won't be around for long enough so he just takes what care he can get from Becca- an easy marriage

A teenage bride with a baby inside getting high on information”

B) Teenager with a baby… like Becca who wanted more (a life with him)

A) Will he finally propose to SS later? just before it's too late? She's a Salve for him as much as he is For her

C) is Becca sneaky? Like is she gonna do something with all this information she has on him and his family as Revenge for being taken a mug of? - it's a Hollywood story, someone has to go to the tabloids lmao

A) Uh yes- this is how fanfics work

52. “You honestly believe I’d rip up the life I’ve have planned out for years for someone I met a month ago?”

B) Only one month??

A) Don't patronise her Aegon

53. “That’s adorable,” Aegon says, like you’re an idiot. After a moment he adds, rather combatively: “And if you’re such a one-dude kind of girl, who was that guy in your Instagram story?”

B) Oh and don't be jealous, you have no right lmao

54. “That’s his name? Jace? That’s not even a real name. That’s like James or Jason, but make it the trailer park remix.”

A) Sorry babe, forgot Aegon was in the the modern baby book of names 🙄

B) If you look in the Targaryen name book, Aegon means "a little bitch"

C) If you don't change your attitude, you'll be A(e)Gon(er) soon

55. Aegon rolls his eyes and shoves a handful of Animal-Style fries into his mouth, sopping with melted yellow cheese and grilled onions and secret-recipe spread that tastes suspiciously like Thousand Island salad dressing. “Right.”

A) That boy needs manners lmao

B) that's like another portion of food with more cheese 🧀- baby doesn't care about his health at all

C) He's distracting himself with food? Emotional eating?

A) Someone he trusts enough, he won't ever trust anyone with her

56. “Sure,” Aegon says, like he is being deliberately stoic. “But I need more time to find someone I trust enough.”

B) Hes putting on an act of nonchalance to not show the hurt he's feeling with her just asking for someone else

C) He will probably try and delay it as much as he can

A) He's calling her bluff

57. Aegon looks at you, a challenge, a dare. “Do you really want to never see me again?”

58. Aegon scoffs. “Oh, come on.”

B) And she doesn't babe

A) Don't be a baby- answer the question

59. “Are you twelve years old?” Aegon says, then slurps forcefully on his Cherry Coke. “Life is more complicated than that.”

B) he doesnt want to say cuz he doesn't love Becca

A) Says the baby

B) it is true. Life is complicated

C) He's the grumpy realist and she's the optiminist. They balance each other- life isn't hard when they're together (ish)

D) Back to consuming to delay his answers

A) He' sparkles ✨️

60. Aegon gazes blankly out over the Pacific Ocean for a while, the breeze in his hair and the Coppertone Sport shimmering on his face, and then at last he turns to you. “Okay, listen,” Aegon begins. “About a year ago, Becca got pregnant.”

61. “Right. And I didn’t then either. So I told her I’d have absolutely nothing to do with it if she kept the baby, and that my preference was for her to terminate. And that’s what she did.”

B) And I oop-

C) I wonder if his final resting place will be the beach, he seems at peace here

B) He's a Bit rough

A) it must be something hereditary to not want to pass it on to his Kids cuz hes know how bad it is to deal with. He doesn't care about legacy whereas his dad did- but at what cost

C) I wonder if he would want the baby if it was Sunshine’s? - que baby? As a last piece of aegon?

62. “I’m not convinced it was unintentional,” Aegon is saying; you are only half-hearing him… “Becca told me that she moved out here to be an actress and a model, but I never saw her really pursuing that. Once we met, she jumped right into being the perfect caretaker, and some people are like that. They need someone to need them. She was great at it, it was all she wanted to do, looking after me and the house and the Targaryen family Hollywood bullshit that I can’t stand. And eventually Becca started dropping hints about getting married, and I ignored them. I think…maybe she thought having a baby would speed up the timeline. But now she knows how serious I am about not having children. And I’m a lot more careful.”

A) What girls have to do to feel secure in a relationship

B) but it also shows that's she manipulative? So what else can she do?

E) So Becca knows stuff about the family? Interesting..

C) Becca started out like SS? Does he help SS more because she actually has passion for it whereas Becca didn't?

D) I want to know about the Targs, they defo had an effect on him and why he hates HW

F) A lot more careful- as in he's stay away from Becca lmao

A) But you need To have to want her too, thats marriage aegon

63. “No,” Aegon says, exasperated that you don’t understand. “I’m marrying her because I’m who she wants, and she would do anything for me. And being with me is a sacrifice, right? So the least I can do is give her the official title. It works for both of us. It’s good for both of us.”

B) Both of you and ss want each other?

C) and he's sacrificing his own happiness by not being with SS

D) He's a curse to be with? Cuz he knows he's gonna go down a slippery slope later with his deteriorating health and he thinks ss wont stay/ doesn't need to see it in her happy world

A) She wants you to be the perfect guy she thought you were but everyone has their flaws

64. “I know,” Aegon snaps. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a fucking terrible person, that I’m a curse to everyone who cares about me? Sure, fine, okay, you got it. But to my knowledge I’m the only person in your corner, so let me help you for as long as I can.”

B) He's gonna be a curse to Sunshine? When he dies, she'll always remember him, like a lost love like Jack & Rose from Titantic (that you like to reference in this & aegon survived the last series of his)

C) He still wants to help and be close to her

A) See- whereas becca didn't Want to do it for the right reasons?

65. “Because you’re kind, and you’re gentle, and you’re real, and you want this for the right reasons, and I’m not going to let anybody beat that out of you.”

B) He's sick of fake people and she's real omg

C) Has she reopened his passion for being an agent?

A) He wants to be there

66. Aegon sighs, defeated. “Do you want to ride with me to the Marvel audition or do you want to drive yourself? It’s on Friday.”

B) But he also respects her choice

A) He's still upset over the Maroon 5 script

67. “In case something happens, obviously,” Aegon flares. “In case a director or an actor is a creep, in case they want you to do a dangerous stunt, it case they try to tell you to get surgery, in case they lie to you about the terms, in case a million other things go wrong. No one is going to listen to you, but because I’m a Targaryen they’ll listen to me.”

B) I love his protective energy.. cuz its “his job”... 😏

C) Whos gonna look after after he's gone 😭

D) How big are the Targs In this industry?

E) also it's v likely someone is a creep in any HW studio

68. “I’m the best you’ve got,” Aegon pitches back, and you sit with him in heavy silence under the sizzling afternoon sun for a long time, neither of you speaking, neither of you moving to leave.

A) Not just the heat being brutal, the angry tension too

B) They don't want to talk but they don't want to leave each other either

A) Not how they ended things last time..

69. An hour later, back in Elysian Park, Aegon parks his Sebring curbside and says Brandon will text you the address for the Marvel audition. You thank him briskly and impersonally. Aegon jogs up the concrete steps and into his half-duplex; you begin walking down the sidewalk towards where you parked your 2003 Honda Accord this morning. You are most of the way there when you see her approaching: long dark hair, wide-leg jeans, bridal white crop top, carrying a massive bakery box. Becca is beaming and humming to herself, but when she spots you she jolts to a halt.

B) bride white top- she wants you to know shes getting married lmao

C) Aw she was in a good mood 😂

70. “Always trying to break us up,” she seethes hatefully, defiantly. “Always trying to tear us apart. You think you matter enough to jeopardize what Aegon and I have? He comes home to me, always, and no one can change that. You think I don’t know loving a man like that means having to share him with the world? I know it. But you should know you’ll never get to keep him.”

D) SS is ruining Beccas dream of domesticity so will Becca ruin hers?

E) Does becca have access to Aegon's files and with him mixing things up, he might forget to lock the computer. Plus plus- he's using folders ( is that another sign of his decorating state cuz he can't remember his computer password)?

B) Does he not sleep with her? Does he not trust her after the baby thing?

A) She says that like just to Ss but she probably means all the girls Aegon has slept with

C) I wonder if Becca Will snap and tell Sunshine why she couldnt handle Aegon (his disease). I bet she knows what his dad dies of.

D) Imagine Becca killed Vis and is slowly killing Aegon for the money lmao idk I'm tired

A) Baela cussing her out, Aegon not being lovey, Becca tripping her over- I get you babe. You deserve a treat

71. “This day fucking sucks,” you mutter to nobody. Then you turn on your laptop and open Spotify in one tab. You recall seeing a lot of Alanis Morissette in Aegon’s playlist, and you find one of the few songs of hers you already know because it’s your mom’s favorite: You Learn.

B) I had to Google the song!

C) The song is about how the lows of life Still add to it, you learn and grow from the lessons

D) Like after this fic is done, she wouldn't change a thing cuz it's toughened her up but also allowed to love more openly (like maybe she stands up for herself and tells aegon to learn to let himself be happy and be with her before he goes)

E) It might help put more substance into her acting?

72. Wikipedia once told you that Viserys Targaryen passed away at his Malibu home after a long illness. Was it bad? It had to be, right? A disease that was torturously slow and horrific for the whole family. An experience that wounded Aegon somewhere deep and immutable.

A) Hmm was it an illness or did the family say that just to cover something up? And did aegon get caught in the crossfire?

73. Viserys Targaryen Alzheimer’s

74. You roll over and stare up at your bedroom ceiling, listening to Alanis Morissette’s serrated mezzo-soprano twang, and whatever is required to be taken seriously as an artist—to make people see you, to make people listen, to earn the privilege of not spending forty years impersonating someone who never feels the siren call of other lives—she has it.

A) Not alzheimers but maybe another thing related to it… like Dementia

B) Does something need to break in her to finally be sharp enough to cut and catch someone's attention?

A) SS isn't taken seriously cuz she's naive? Like she's a pushover in a way?

75. Maybe there’s no profound explanation for why Aegon is marrying Becca. Maybe he really is a fuckboy like Baela said.

C) And will it be cuz of aegon or something else?

B) But we all know that's not it

A) Yeah possibly

76. Maybe he just doesn’t like you enough.

C) He might not want anyone else to see him go like his dad? And he doesn't mind Becca cuz he doesn't care about her enough?

B) youre his favourite.

A) Lies. He does.

C) His precious sunshine.

A Curse [Chapter 5: Venice]

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

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, In-N-Out Burger, accidental fake dating, discussions of pregnancy and abortion (not who you think), a wild Becca appears!

Word count: 6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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

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

You sleep deep but wake up early. When Baela wanders out of the bathroom in a fuzzy purple robe and a gale of steam, she finds you dressed in your grey work uniform and sprinkling a packet of flower food you got from the Rite Aid down the street into the vase of sunflowers. You are smiling to yourself; you can’t seem to stop.

“Heyyyyy!” Baela says, slow and salacious, hoping for interesting stories. You very rarely have any to share. “How’d the Maroon 5 shoot go? Not so bad, right?”

“It was good.” You rearrange the sunflowers, pruning any leaves that have begun to wilt. Daylight streams in through the windows; outside you can see power lines, palm trees, a shopping center featuring—among other things—a Starbucks, World Star Vape, and Carl’s Jr.

“Did you meet Adam Levine?”

“Briefly and uneventfully. But he seemed nice!”

“And you survived the bathtub thing, I see.” Her tone implies that you were ridiculous to ever fear you wouldn’t, childish, ignorant, histrionic.

“Well…I actually didn’t have to do it.”

“What?” She reaches into the refrigerator and removes a plastic bowl full of raspberries, sets it down on the kitchen counter, eats absentmindedly as she stares at you. “Really? Why not?”

You shrug, a little shy but desperately wanting to tell somebody, because that will make it real. Blood burns in your face. “Aegon saved me.”

Baela’s eyes narrow and her brow crinkles. You find yourself—as you often do—casually in awe of the smoothness of her skin, the perfect arches of her eyebrows, her expressiveness that is never inelegant. She chews her raspberries very slowly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, so…I didn’t have to film that scene. But I did the rest of them and it went fine.”

Baela’s gaze drops to your shoes and travels northbound, examining you with skepticism and dread, as if she is afraid to ask. “Did something else happen?”

You can feel yourself glowing, flushing, beaming helplessly. “Kind of.”

Her jaw drops open; there’s berry juice on her teeth like blood. “How? Where?!”

“We went back to his office after the shoot. I mean, he drove us back to his office. But I wanted to go too.”

“And you did…what, exactly? How many bases?”

“Um…all of them?”

“All of them?!”

“Twice.”

Baela looks horrified. “Oh my God, you really fucked a married guy.”

“No, remember, he’s not married. He’s just engaged.”

“It’s the same thing!” Baela exclaims, and she has completely forgotten about her raspberries. “You’re a cheater, how does that make you feel?”

You shake your head; she doesn’t understand. “I know it sounds bad, but when I’m with Aegon…he’s just so…he’s so protective and he’s smart and he’s brave and he actually believes in me, he’s the only person who doesn’t think I’m hopeless and delusional, and he’s always trying to help me, and there’s something about when we’re together that just feels…magical!”

“Of course it’s magical!” Baela bursts out, and now Jace is peeking blearily out of her bedroom, his dark curls in disarray. “He’s a fuckboy, that’s what they do! He gives you some otherworldly encapsulated experience that leaves you dickmatized but it’s not real, because then he goes home and he does the same thing with his soon-to-be-wife, and then the next day he’s probably hooking up with some other impressionable starstruck client, and you’re standing here thinking you have something special with him when he’s already onto the next girl!”

You can’t imagine that being true, and yet you wonder without wanting to: why did he have condoms in his desk drawer? “I don’t think he’s happy with Becca.”

Baela groans as if she’s in physical pain. “I knew this would happen! I knew somebody was going to take advantage of you. You’re too idealistic, you’re too naïve.”

“I started it,” you object feebly.

“You think you seduced him? You think you were calling the shots with a middle-aged man whose family is Hollywood royalty?”

You look down at your shoes, uninspired white Skechers for work, ashamed. “I guess not.”

Baela huffs a sardonic sigh and scarfs down the last of the raspberries, chewing them aggressively. “You know, people talk shit about Jace—”

“Who talks shit about Jace?” Jace asks from the doorway of her bedroom.

“—They say he’s a hobosexual and lazy and jobless and whatever, but that man is loyal, he doesn’t even look at other women, and I wouldn’t trade him for anybody. Because apparently it’s extremely fucking rare to find someone who won’t get naked for the first stranger who promises to make all their wildest dreams come true.”

You are collapsing in on yourself, a wilting flower, a crushed spider, and you remember years ago finding the emails between your father and that hospital intern, and you marvel at how easy it is to fixate on one star and lose sight of the constellation. Jace slinks back into Baela’s bedroom and closes the door. “Yeah, you’re right, Baela,” you say softly. “I was wrong. I don’t know why I did that.”

Now Baela frowns at you with a nauseating combination of judgment and pity. “Look, are you sure you wouldn’t be happier back home on the horse farm? This place…you’re too nice for it, you know? You’re too trusting. You’re going to keep getting hurt.” You don’t have what it takes.

You steel yourself. “I’m staying here.”

“Okay, and are you going to find a new agent? Maybe somebody who isn’t trying to sleep with you, or at the very least isn’t in a committed relationship while doing it?”

You are thunderstruck by the question; you haven’t even considered this. “No one else wants me.”

Baela tosses the empty plastic bowl into the kitchen sink—it rattles harshly there—and casts you a hard glare as she stalks towards her bedroom in her purple bathrobe. “I am so disappointed in you.”

You turn to watch her leave, crestfallen and deserted. “Are we still going to see the fireworks later when I get done at Cold Stone?”

Baela stops and turns around, and now her face is all pity, like you’re too pathetic to stay mad at, like you aren’t cognizant enough to be held responsible. “Yeah. We’re still going to see the fireworks.”

“Yay!” you reply, a strained little squeak.

“Jace can stay here when I’m in Paris, right?” Baela asks. “He swears he’ll vacuum and take the garbage out and stuff. And you know he won’t fill up the sink with dirty dishes, he basically only eats takeout.”

“Yeah, of course, no problem! He can stay.”

“Thanks.” Baela gives you a small smile—a charitable you’re a dumbass but we’re still friends sort of gesture—and disappears into her bedroom. Then you go find your phone and purse so you won’t be late for work.

All afternoon as you are bent low scraping scoops of ice cream out of the freezer and mashing in mix-ins on the chilled countertop, each time the glass door opens and the string of bells jangle you look up to see if it’s Aegon, because maybe he’s found you another job or maybe he just misses you, and he’s daydreaming of you now in the sweltering sunshine that rains down golden and cloudless. But your only customers are strangers: flocks of influencers in yoga pants who pick at Like It-sized sorbets, flustered mothers trying to relay their lisping children’s orders, giggling couples on dates who you love watching, the way their eyes are alight and their fingers forever ache to intertwine.

At dusk, you and Baela and Jace are lounging on a blanket at the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook, your breathing still labored from the hike and guzzling cans of La Croix that Baela packed, awful as always but not so bad when you feel like you’re dying of thirst. As you wait for the fireworks to start, you take a few selfies with the distant incandescent mirage of Downtown to the northeast, towards Chinatown and Elysian Park, towards Apple Valley, Minnesota if you drove far enough.

You post the most flattering selfie to your Instagram story with a caption of patriotic emojis: an American flag, the Statue of Liberty, a bald eagle, an exploding pink firework. In the row of circles at the top of your screen, you observe that Aegon—a.k.a. superstargaryen—has also posted a story today. In the two minutes you spend debating whether to watch it, he has seen yours, liked it, and replied: Miss America 2025.

“What are you grinning about?” Baela asks from where she is sitting in Jace’s lap, his arms around her waist, and you can’t tell her because you don’t want to make her mad again.

“Just something my sister sent me.” You click on Aegon’s story; he is standing beside a massive grill covered with hotdogs and hamburger patties, wielding a pair of tongs, and wearing his aviator sunglasses and a green apron with seemingly nothing underneath. You like it and reply: I have literally never wanted a hotdog so bad in my life.

Aegon reacts with a laughing emoji and types: Come and get it. But of course you can’t, because Becca is probably there too.

“You better post the picture we took together,” Baela tells you. “We looked cute as fuck!”

“What about me?” Jace asks playfully, nuzzling the side of her face. “Was I cute as fuck too?”

“You were okay,” Baela says, and they both laugh.

“It’s a really good photo,” you agree. And it proves that you have friends to do activities with, that you aren’t quite as pathetic and alone in Los Angeles as your parents and Clara and Tripp and Mason might think. You post it as a story: you and Baela smiling together, Jace in the background brandishing a peace sign. You add a bunch of red, white, and blue hearts for decoration. Aegon watches your new story within a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even like it. You frown down at your screen, confused.

“Oh look, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Baela says excitedly, and now there are booming explosions in the darkening sky and threads of shimmering remnants descending like falling stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are early for your appointment because you want to see Aegon again, and you don’t even try to tell yourself it’s for any other reason. It’s Tuesday, July 8th, and there are still charred firework wrappers and singed sparklers strewn on the sidewalk. You find a parking spot a ways down the street from Aegon’s half-duplex and trot to the front door. You are wearing your tan TOMS wedges, a top the color of dark fertile earth, a green maxi skirt, and swampy verdant eyeshadow to match: matte brown Rewind and sparkly emerald Damaged, both by Urban Decay.

Behind the reception desk, Brandon is squinting at the computer screen and scrawling notes in his planner with his flower pen. “Hey girl!” he greets you, and although he is preoccupied he still gets a bottle of Perrier out of the minifridge and sets it on the edge of the desk.

“Thanks!” you say as you take it. “I’m really sorry about what happened last week with the address thing. I hope you weren’t too freaked out. I didn’t want to ruin your holiday.”

Brandon laughs and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s totally cool, I wasn’t worried at all. Aegon must be hella stressed lately because he’s always mixing things up and forgetting appointments, then he yells at me but feels bad about it afterwards and pays me overtime. Well worth it! I think it’s the wedding. Becca’s constantly showing up asking for his opinion about cakes and decorations and whatever and it’s just a lot.”

You smile politely; it takes some effort. “Yeah, weddings are nerve-racking. My sister Clara is planning hers right now.”

“Oh for cute! Are you going to be her maid of honor?”

“Actually, I don’t know. I hope not. Sounds like a ton of work.”

“You’d be marvelous at it,” Brandon assures you, then snatches up the phone when it rings. “Targaryen Talent Agency, this is Brandon, how can I help you?” You say goodbye and continue to Aegon’s office.

Inside, he is wearing the same green Nike Killshots he had on the day you first met and has them propped up on his desk as he plays his Nintendo 64. Mario is traversing a narrow stone pathway surrounded by a sea of blood-red lava. Aegon’s tank top is the color of the pine trees back in Minnesota; the unbuttoned short-sleeve Oxford shirt he’s thrown overtop is white and wrinkled. The room has been tidied up, all signs of your transgression erased: debris swept off the scratched wood floor, his desk once again littered with folders and papers and Juicy Fruit gum wrappers, new frames for the photographs, Honeycrisp apples filling up a bowl that is blue china instead of plain bone-colored ceramic.

“Hey,” Aegon says, glancing at you but still clicking buttons and swiveling the joystick on his transluscent orange controller.

“Hi!” You are grinning as you sit down in the chair in front of his desk. “Your office is back to normal.”

“Yeah, I have cleaning people that come in a few days a week.”

“Are you winning?” you ask, meaning the game. Mario veers off the precarious walkway and into the lava, screams and tries to leap to safety, sails over a stone island, hits the lava again and dies.

Aegon chuckles; he sounds tired. His bruised knuckles, five days gone, have sickened to a ghastly green and plumes of opaque violet. “I guess not.” He turns off the Nintendo 64. “How was your 4th of July?”

“It was awesome! I hung out with my roommate.”

Aegon gives you a disapproving look like he doesn’t quite believe you. You can’t fathom why. “I might have another job for you.”

“Really? Great!” But despite the good news, you’re beginning to feel like you’re sinking. You keep waiting for Aegon to acknowledge what happened here, what you both did, what you were to each other even if only for a few hours under the cover of darkness.

“There’s a casting call for a very minor part in a new Mavel movie. I’m sure that’s not exactly your dream role, and it’s not really what I see you doing either, but you said you’d take anything and it’s an opportunity to get you in front of some big-name people. So I booked you a spot.”

“I accept.” Is he going to pretend it never happened?

“I’m keeping an eye on the indie projects that make it to pre-production. I can imagine you shining in a niche little thriller, maybe a romantic drama…you do angry really well, you know. Which is strange, because you’re never angry in real life. But that’s what makes you an actress. You become other kinds of people.”

Does he think it was a mistake? Does he think it didn’t matter? “Okay,” you hear yourself say uncertainly.

Aegon studies you, his Nike Killshots still resting lazily on his desk. His blonde hair is slicked back from his face; his eyes are a remote somber blue like the ocean through an airplane window. “You alright, sunshine?”

“Yeah, I just…um…I mean…” You glance uneasily around the small plain office, scuffed wooden floorboards and cracked paint on mint green walls and glaring daylight that pours in through the windows that face the east. “What happened Thursday night…was that a one-time thing, or…?”

Slowly, Aegon smiles, and there’s something about his voice that strikes you as smug, maybe taunting, maybe even cruel. “It was that good for you, huh?”

You are suddenly reminded of every doubt, every warning, every belittling comment you thought you had convinced yourself not to absorb: from Mom, Dad, Clara, Tripp, Mason, Baela, Jace, agents and directors and surgeons. You thump your cold glass bottle of Perrier onto Aegon’s desk, clutch your purse, and bolt for the door. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Aegon is stunned. He scrambles to his feet. “What—?”

“Sorry, bye. Please don’t follow me.” You don’t want him to see you crying. You’re already humiliated enough.

You run awkwardly in your wedges through the lobby—Brandon watches you from behind his desk, baffled—and burst out into the hot late-morning sunlight. You almost tumble down the concrete steps but regain your balance, then flee towards your Honda. Window air conditioning units whir, dogs bark, car engines rev, a radio in an open garage is blaring Domino by Jessie J. Now your phone is ringing.

You yank it out of your purse and, through the tears that blur your vision, see that the name on the screen is Aegon’s. “Hello?” you answer stupidly, as if you don’t know who it is.

Aegon’s voice is equal parts defensive and resigned. “Do you want a new agent?”

“No,” you sob.

“Then come back here.”

“I just…I just feel like I really messed up, I mean I’ve never cheated on or with anybody and I can’t believe I did that, and now you’re pretending it never even happened, and it feels weird, it feels wrong, and I ruined everything, and maybe people were right when they said I couldn’t handle being out here—”

“Come back to my office,” Aegon says calmly. “And we will talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, and turn around.

You clop into the lobby and give Brandon an embarrassed wave. He nods, puzzled. Then you return to Aegon’s office and take your place in your chair, slumped, red-eyed, ashamed.

Aegon sits down too, places his elbows on his desk, laces his fingers together and presses them against his lips as he gazes at you, his large blue eyes glossy and pained. After a while, he says quietly: “This is exactly what I didn’t want. For you to be hurt, for you to be sad.”

So you won’t start crying again, you distract yourself by rotating the green glass bottle you left on Aegon’s desk, slippery with condensation. “I don’t even like Perrier.”

“Then why do you drink one every time you’re here?”

“I thought it would be the easiest thing for Brandon to get me.”

Aegon shakes his head; and for a long time he just watches you. Then an idea strikes him. “Do you want to go to the beach?”

~~~~~~~~~~

He takes the 110 south to the 10, then the 10 west towards the coast, then Venice Boulevard until you hit the canals. Aegon parks his Sebring in a tight spot on the street; he has to cut it half a dozen times to squeeze between a BMW X5 and a Volkswagen Tiguan. When he rests his bruised hand on the back of your seat so he can twist around and look behind him, you feel a disorienting sort of loss. Is he never going to touch me again? Then you both get out and walk towards the towering palm trees and beckoning open blue that peeks out from between hotels and surf shops, the genesis of the Pacific Ocean that continues uninterrupted for over five thousand miles to the shores of Japan.

On the way here, Aegon stopped at an In-N-Out Burger. You said you didn’t want anything when he asked—you have no appetite whatsoever—but at the drive-thru window he ordered two cheeseburger combos: Cherry Cokes, grilled onions on the burgers, Animal-Style fries. He paid in cash, because he is full of deceit, or at least that is what you told yourself. And so now you are carrying the Cherry Cokes, condensation sweating out of the cardboard cups as midday heat radiates up from the sidewalk and teenagers on bicycles and skateboards weave around you. You pop into one of the surf shops and Aegon waits outside, bemused, until you emerge with a blue can of Coppertone Sport tucked under your arm.

When Aegon finds a spot he likes on the beach and sits cross-legged in loose warm sand, you set down the Cherry Cokes—ice jingling in the dripping cups—and spray yourself with the Coppertone Sport until all of your exposed skin is glistening with SPF 50. Then you try to pass the can to Aegon.

“I’m good,” he says, opening the paper In-N-Out Burger bag to distribute the contents.

“Do you want to get skin cancer? Are you trying to look like Clint Eastwood when you’re forty?”

He gives you an irritated smirk but takes the sunscreen and halfheartedly mists himself with it. Then he flings the can aside and passes you your burger and fries when you sit down beside him. Aegon takes large, sloppy bites of his burger, grease dribbling down his fingers; you can only manage queasy nibbles at your own. In the waves, surfers are paddling far out and then riding swells back in, skittering to a stop in shallow water or being dragged under by the gleaming sapphire currents. California gulls squawk overhead and dive greedily when Aegon throws them some of his fries. To the north is a jetty of stones to mark the territorial boundary between the surfers and the swimmers; to the south is a long wooden pier for fishing. A group of people are playing volleyball nearby. From their boombox drifts a Red Hot Chili Peppers song; you feel like you’re being haunted by them.

“It’s the edge of the world and all of Western civilization,

The sun may rise in the East, at least it settled in a final location

It’s understood that Hollywood sells Californication…”

“It’s not your fault,” Aegon says. “I’m the one who’s engaged, I’m a decade older than you, I’m sort of your boss. It was my responsibility to put the brakes on, and I didn’t because…” He gestures helplessly. “Because I really like you. And I didn’t want to stop. But you’re not to blame for it and you shouldn’t feel guilty and you didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

You stare out into the waves, glittering with sharp lacerations of sunlight. “So you wish you’d stopped it.”

Aegon sighs and slurps his Cherry Coke, ice clinking around in the cardboard cup, red and white and reminding you of those zodiac calendars at Chinese restaurants. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t feel guilty?”

“It wasn’t the first time. I’m sure it’ll happen again at some point. It doesn’t change what I have with Becca.”

You turn to him, revolted. “You just cheat constantly? That’s how you live?”

“Not constantly,” Aegon says, annoyed. “Not even that often. Maybe once or twice a year. I bump into someone at a party or a club, or on a film set, or on a plane…you know. Things happen. But it doesn’t go any further than that and it’s never serious.”

“Never serious,” you echo morosely.

“Never long-term,” Aegon amends.

“Marry me, girl, be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation,

A teenage bride with a baby inside getting high on information,

And buy me a star on the boulevard, it’s Californication…”

Aegon taps the mostly-untouched burger in your hand. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you’d listen to me. I’m telling you to eat.”

His logic is sound. You make more of an effort, washing each bite down with Cherry Coke that you usually never drink, empty calories, fleeting forbidden sweetness.

Aegon is watching you closely, the creases around his eyes deep and thoughtful. “Could you tell me…like, specifically…what exactly you’re upset about?”

“I guess I thought it meant something.”

“I’m not pretending it didn’t. I just said I really like you.”

“But you’re still getting married in September.”

“You honestly believe I’d rip up the life I’ve have planned out for years for someone I met a month ago?”

“I don’t understand how you can have feelings for me and be marrying somebody else. That doesn’t make any sense. When I’m really into someone, I don’t want other people.”

“That’s adorable,” Aegon says, like you’re an idiot. After a moment he adds, rather combatively: “And if you’re such a one-dude kind of girl, who was that guy in your Instagram story?”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. “What guy?”

“The guy on the 4th of July. Young gym bro curly hair guy.”

It takes you a few seconds to realize who he means. “Jace?”

“That’s his name? Jace? That’s not even a real name. That’s like James or Jason, but make it the trailer park remix.”

“I think his parents have money,” you say absently, fascinated by Aegon’s reaction, trying to decide if you want to divulge that Jace is in no way available or romantically interested in you.

“That’s not the point.”

“He’s a friend.”

Aegon rolls his eyes and shoves a handful of Animal-Style fries into his mouth, sopping with melted yellow cheese and grilled onions and secret-recipe spread that tastes suspiciously like Thousand Island salad dressing. “Right.”

“Where are you going after you get married?”

“Becca’s family is in Houston.”

“What’s there for you?”

He laughs, a curt little cackle. “Segway tours, rodeos. The Space Center.”

“What about your family? What about Aemond and the others?”

“If they want to see me, they can catch a flight.”

“If you’re so hellbent on leaving Los Angeles, then what’s the point of this? Just ditch me now. Just give me to some other agent and we can both move on.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, like he is being deliberately stoic. “But I need more time to find someone I trust enough.”

“You can’t think of a single person who isn’t going to try to make me get naked or leap off a building?”

“No, I can, but I need someone who actually believes in you too. And you haven’t done much work out here yet. So it would be better if I had more to show them.”

“Can’t you just forge me another resume?”

Aegon looks at you, a challenge, a dare. “Do you really want to never see me again?”

The truth is humiliatingly simple. “No.”

“Then why are you arguing?”

You toss a few fries to the seagulls; they wrestle over them when they fall to the ground, kicking up golden sand and pecking murderously at each other. “Do you love Becca?”

Aegon scoffs. “Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“It’s a stupid question.”

“It’s an extremely relevant question.”

“Are you twelve years old?” Aegon says, then slurps forcefully on his Cherry Coke. “Life is more complicated than that.”

“More complicated than marrying people you’re actually in love with…?”

Aegon gazes blankly out over the Pacific Ocean for a while, the breeze in his hair and the Coppertone Sport shimmering on his face, and then at last he turns to you. “Okay, listen,” Aegon begins. “About a year ago, Becca got pregnant.”

You’re so startled you accidentally knock over your Cherry Coke, scrabbling for the cup as dark reddish liquid spills into the sand. “You have a baby?!”

He watches you, severe, grim, maybe a little afraid of what you’ll think. “No.”

Then you remember. “You don’t want kids,” you say softly.

“Right. And I didn’t then either. So I told her I’d have absolutely nothing to do with it if she kept the baby, and that my preference was for her to terminate. And that’s what she did.”

You are speechless, you are horrified, you are staring at him and struggling to imagine it.

“I’m not convinced it was unintentional,” Aegon is saying; you are only half-hearing him. Your skull is full of rumbling waves and the shrieks of seagulls. “Becca told me that she moved out here to be an actress and a model, but I never saw her really pursuing that. Once we met, she jumped right into being the perfect caretaker, and some people are like that. They need someone to need them. She was great at it, it was all she wanted to do, looking after me and the house and the Targaryen family Hollywood bullshit that I can’t stand. And eventually Becca started dropping hints about getting married, and I ignored them. I think…maybe she thought having a baby would speed up the timeline. But now she knows how serious I am about not having children. And I’m a lot more careful.”

“So…you’re marrying Becca…out of guilt?”

“No,” Aegon says, exasperated that you don’t understand. “I’m marrying her because I’m who she wants, and she would do anything for me. And being with me is a sacrifice, right? So the least I can do is give her the official title. It works for both of us. It’s good for both of us.”

You still can’t comprehend it. It seems so incongruous with who you know him to be: protective, warm, unconventionally noble. “You pressured Becca into getting an abortion?”

“It was her choice,” Aegon says weakly, knowing that he’d put an insurmountable weight on the scale.

“That’s a horrible thing to do.”

“I know,” Aegon snaps. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a fucking terrible person, that I’m a curse to everyone who cares about me? Sure, fine, okay, you got it. But to my knowledge I’m the only person in your corner, so let me help you for as long as I can.”

You shake your head; none of it makes sense. All of it is awful. They were right. I don’t belong here. “Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“Because you’re kind, and you’re gentle, and you’re real, and you want this for the right reasons, and I’m not going to let anybody beat that out of you.”

You swallow noisily. “I feel really guilty.”

“I’m sorry,” Aegon says, and he seems to mean it.

“I don’t think it’s fair to let Becca go through with the wedding without knowing that we just hooked up in your office.”

Aegon raises his eyebrows and shrugs uneasily. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but Becca wouldn’t want to know.”

“Why? Do you have some kind of arrangement?” Like my parents do. “She doesn’t concern herself with your cheating as long as she doesn’t have to see the evidence?”

“I mean, has she ever used those exact words? No. But I think that’s pretty close to how she feels.”

You nibble on a fry. Your eyes are downcast, your words hushed. With one index finger, you draw stars in the sand. “That’s so sad.”

Aegon sighs, defeated. “Do you want to ride with me to the Marvel audition or do you want to drive yourself? It’s on Friday.”

“I don’t want you there at all.”

“Well, I’m going to be there. But I can try to stay out of your way.”

You’re sulking. “Why do you have to go?”

“In case something happens, obviously,” Aegon flares. “In case a director or an actor is a creep, in case they want you to do a dangerous stunt, it case they try to tell you to get surgery, in case they lie to you about the terms, in case a million other things go wrong. No one is going to listen to you, but because I’m a Targaryen they’ll listen to me.”

“You’re my hero,” you say sarcastically; it comes out more miserable than mean. You’ve never been good at cruelty. It’s not a language you speak.

“I’m the best you’ve got,” Aegon pitches back, and you sit with him in heavy silence under the sizzling afternoon sun for a long time, neither of you speaking, neither of you moving to leave.

An hour later, back in Elysian Park, Aegon parks his Sebring curbside and says Brandon will text you the address for the Marvel audition. You thank him briskly and impersonally. Aegon jogs up the concrete steps and into his half-duplex; you begin walking down the sidewalk towards where you parked your 2003 Honda Accord this morning. You are most of the way there when you see her approaching: long dark hair, wide-leg jeans, bridal white crop top, carrying a massive bakery box. Becca is beaming and humming to herself, but when she spots you she jolts to a halt.

“Hi, Becca!” you say very cheerfully, overcompensating.

“Hey,” she replies flatly, then goes to pass you, heading towards Aegon’s office.

“Wait, sorry, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Reluctantly, Becca stops and peers at you, agitated, guarded, unwelcoming. “What? I’m busy. I have wedding cake samples for Aegon to taste.”

“Oh neat, that’s so fun!”

She glares at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you start. “Um….well…I just wanted to…um…Becca, there’s something I feel like I need to confess to you, and I want to profusely apologize because even though it wasn’t planned, I still knew better and I should never have—”

“You people,” Becca hisses, and you gape at her, bewildered.

“Sorry, what?”

“Always trying to break us up,” she seethes hatefully, defiantly. “Always trying to tear us apart. You think you matter enough to jeopardize what Aegon and I have? He comes home to me, always, and no one can change that. You think I don’t know loving a man like that means having to share him with the world? I know it. But you should know you’ll never get to keep him.”

“No, Becca, that’s not—”

“And if he was going to leave me, he has better options than you.”

Her hands are full, but she lowers a shoulder and shoves you hard with it, and you go stumbling backwards, your feet twisting out of your wedges. Pain bolts up through your left ankle and you yelp as you collapse onto the front lawn of a small yellow house. When you look up at Becca, staggered and appalled, she is sashaying swiftly up the sidewalk and is already halfway to Aegon’s office. You grab your wedges and limp to your Honda on bare feet, the concrete beneath them searing under the arid southwest sun.

The apartment is empty, Baela getting drinks with her L.A. friends before jetting off to Paris next week, Jace at one of his infrequent PhD classes. You grab an ice pack from the freezer and shuffle clumsily to your room, flop down onto your bed, apply the ice pack to your throbbing, swollen ankle.

“This day fucking sucks,” you mutter to nobody. Then you turn on your laptop and open Spotify in one tab. You recall seeing a lot of Alanis Morissette in Aegon’s playlist, and you find one of the few songs of hers you already know because it’s your mom’s favorite: You Learn.

As you listen, mulling over Aegon and his mazelike contradictions, it occurs to you that maybe losing his father at such a young age did something to him, scarred him, traumatized him, made him terrified of letting people get too close. Perhaps that is a baseless assumption. Perhaps you are desperate to make excuses for him, to believe that there’s still hope for the two of you.

How old did Aegon say he was when his dad died? In college? That could mess someone up.

Wikipedia once told you that Viserys Targaryen passed away at his Malibu home after a long illness. Was it bad? It had to be, right? A disease that was torturously slow and horrific for the whole family. An experience that wounded Aegon somewhere deep and immutable.

You Google: Viserys Targaryen cancer. There are no relevant results. You try again.

Viserys Targaryen Alzheimer’s

Viserys Targaryen ALS

Viserys Targaryen multiple sclerosis

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

You roll over and stare up at your bedroom ceiling, listening to Alanis Morissette’s serrated mezzo-soprano twang, and whatever is required to be taken seriously as an artist—to make people see you, to make people listen, to earn the privilege of not spending forty years impersonating someone who never feels the siren call of other lives—she has it.

Maybe there’s no profound explanation for why Aegon is marrying Becca. Maybe he really is a fuckboy like Baela said.

Maybe he just doesn’t like you enough.

[low-budget-korra]

Why Anora and Mikey Madison Oscar's can mean a dark time in Hollywood

First of all, Anora is a fun movie but that's it. A fun movie that only works because of the cast and their chemistry and charisma. But let's talk about the elephant In the room: Anora didn't used intimacy coordinator.

A movie that has a love of sex scenes, didn't have these professionals to guarantee the actor's safety. "But it was the cast choice" it shouldn't be a choice to begin with. Imagine if an actor dismisses the make up artists because they think without them they will do a better job? This would never happen. And Sean Baker, as the director and experienced professional should be the one who advocates for this, he should be the one to say to the cast "I'm sorry guys, but we need to have those professionals to guarantee y'all safety and guarantee the scenes are well choreographed" but he didn't bc his pretentious ass could never.

So, when the Oscar gives an award for this, what is the message it gives? That we should stop having those professionals in the productions, all the the name of the art and more authentic acting.

Now, y'all remember what was like the pre Me Too era, when we didn't have these professionals to look out for actors safety? Horror stories really. Emília Clarke finishing her sex scenes in Game of Thrones, and not having a fucking robe to cover herself. Emmy Rossum having a full on panic attack shooting a scene bc her vanity pad was nowhere to be seen and she had to be fully naked. The infamous and horrible rape that happened in Last Tango in Paris. I could go on and on, but I guess y'all get to understand why it's important to have an intimacy coordinator for nude and sex scenes.

And if this really happens, if productions start to dismiss them, following Sean Baker and his cast decision, it's gonna be dark times for the actors (especially the women). Shit that they will be obligated to do in order to work - especially the younger ones who are still making a name for themselves - and shit that will happen backstage that we will only hear about like 10+ years later.

No hate to Mikey, she is young and just starting her career. My hate is on Baker who should have been the experienced professional and made the right decision. And bc of the many unnecessary and raw shooted sex scenes(for the lack of a better word) , and some uncomfortable scenes for his main character in Anora, I get the feeling Baker exploited the shit out of Mikey's and she didn't even realize it