#hopefully by then things will have improved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avicinda · 3 days ago

Text

A Guide to Faewish Sprite Jobs and Uniforms

I went around the Wishing Woods taking note of what colors corresponded to what jobs, as well as the ornaments on their hoods. This is mostly for personal reference so I know where to find specific types of sprites. Due to the nature of this post there are unavoidable spoilers from Chapter 6 and Chapter 7 of the main story.

In general, the uniforms work like this:

higher ranked (i.e. supervisors) or otherwise unique (i.e. shopkeepers, named NPCs) fairies have the long ribbon-like wings, as well as the large ornament on their hood related to their work

generic fairies within a job have the standard tiny wings but in the same color as their uniform and a small version of the corresponding ornament at the end of their hood

fairies also seem to be allowed to add accessories however they like, a few of my screenshots include some who are wearing extra accessories that are not part of their uniform

For simplicity I will be referring to the two types of uniforms as "supervisor" and "standard". I've also tried to be clear about what things here are my assumptions so hopefully I haven't accidentally missed being clear about anything that is.

I will also mention where I feel I am missing information. This post also does not include the unique jobs like Eltinada's or Dorobo's.

Before we start, for comparison, here are what the general, non-uniformed Faewish Sprites looks like:

This is VERY image heavy so I've put the main content under a cut.

Wish Pass Office

Color: black

Ornament: quill feather

Roles: customs, passport issuance

Every interviewer along the Cavern of Wishes uses the supervisor uniform, so presumably you have to be highly ranked to be an interviewer.

The standard Wish Pass fairies are only found along the road immediately after you enter the Wishing Woods. Their main role seems to be inspecting goods and taking inventory of items entering the Woods.

During Chigda's rule, they were instructed to reject all applications for a passport, giving them a fairly lax work environment for that time.

Given we can find Aventura in the Wishing Woods after Giroda is elected, Giroda presumably encouraged them to start earnestly reviewing applications again.

Wish Inspection Center

Color: pink

Ornament: pink heart with a white heart outlined in blue inside for the director, solid pink heart with a broken blue heart on top for bizarre orb supervisor, solid pink heart for everyone else

Roles: handles everything related to all kinds of Wishing Orbs, splits accordingly into departments for Delicious Orbs, Bizarre Orbs, and Desperation Orbs

Note that only Director Boboda has the two toned heart ornament.

The above are wish auditors, sorters, and inspectors found in the Wish Inspection Center. They are responsible for ensuring the Wishing Orb pipeline goes smoothly.

They sort wishes by listening to them and identifying the kind of wish from there, which is a natural ability to all Faewish Sprites. However, with the development of an amplifier by the Wishcraft Lab, they can now do this much faster, while also improving their accuracy.

It seems you have to pass a sorting accuracy test to join this office. The record is 99.9% accuracy, held by current Director Boboda who is also the youngest director in history.

Wishing Orb couriers/transporters also use the supervisor uniform (as seen in the cutscene where they take Afubo's doll).

There's also a unique ornament for supervisors of the Bizarre Orb Hills.

The Desperation Orb Warehouse presumably originally fell under the Wish Inspection Office as well, but was taken over by the Paladins under Chigda's orders. Currently, there are no uniformed supervisors from the Wish Inspection Office on-site.

Due to Wishing Orbs being the Faewish Sprites' primary source of nutrition, the Wish Inspection Center seems to be one of the two largest organizations.

Wish Celebration Center

Color: yellow

Ornament: yellow and orange striped cone hat with confetti ball at the end for supervisors, yellow and white striped cone hat OR a yellow puff ball for everyone else

Roles: coordinating the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, management of confetti cannons, making decorations and gifts, managing and preparing parents for the ceremony

One of the busier areas outside of the Grand Millewish Tree, the Wish Celebration Center is all about the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

They work with the parents of baby sprites to assist both them and the babies for the ceremony, including helping them choose gifts for their baby and ensuring they have a name and clothes prepared. They provide ready made gifts like balloons and flowers.

They probably work closely with the dye station.

They're also in charge of the confetti cannons we use to launch Momo and Nikki.

Vikda is part of them, but has a unique outfit.

With how important the ceremony is to Faewish Sprite society in general, they are probably the other one of the two largest organizations.

Wishcraft Lab

Color: dark blue

Ornament: light bulb with a four pointed star inside

Roles: all kinds of research, Whimtech development and engineering, equipment maintenance, Wishing Orb study (i.e. studying the properties of Desperation Orbs, developing better methods to handle Bizarre Orbs), Desperation Syndrome study

These guys do a LOT of things and can be found in almost all the other offices as well, usually near equipment. They are in charge of Faewish technology, but also study things related to the mutated vines and Desperation Syndrome.

Many can also be found in the area around the Desperation Orb Warehouse.

Giroda has tasked them with upgrading the electrical system of the entire Wishing Woods within five years.

Research Institute

Since I was kind of confused by this initially, I'm giving this a subsection here. Created by Chigda and Avicinda as a separate office from the Wishcraft Lab, the Research Institute took budget and resources away from the Wishcraft Lab. Publicly, they were stated to be developing Whimtech weapons for the Paladins, but never actually produced anything. In reality, the Research Institute was a prison for human stylists kidnapped by the Paladins. Quick-Wish Bottles were also created here in the process of trying to create a second Aureum Vase.

After Chigda's defeat, fairies who had unwittingly joined the Research Institute have been absorbed into the Wishcraft Lab.

Quick-Flight Firefighters

Color: red

Ornament: splash of water

Roles: firefighting, preparing water balloons, emergency services

They're obviously found at the fire station in the residential area, where they have many water balloons prepared.

Fires were previously more common in the Wishing Woods when the confetti cannons were powered through ignition. Since the switch to compressed air, this doesn't happen as often anymore and the firefighters now mostly work as a general emergency service and also also help out other fairies where they can.

Wish Master's Paladins

Color: orange, may actually be brown

Ornament: feathered plume, supervisors additionally have a metal band with the four pointed star, captain gets a helm with the four pointed star

Roles: Faewish sprite military, bodyguards to the Wish Master, security guards, peacekeeping

Yes, Avicinda's outfit really is yellow compared to the orange/brown of the other Paladins.

Paladins carry wooden swords and use either Whim or some other natural Faewish magic to fight. Most of them can be found around the Grand Millewish Tree, naturally centered at their garrison, but also as guards in key entrances to the different areas of the tree. They are however, also found all over the Wishing Woods, either as guards or patrolling the area.

At the garrison there is also a trio of non-uniformed fairies doing exercises. I assume these are fresh recruits.

Under Chigda and Avicinda's control, they were exceptionally corrupt and abused their power against other Faewish Sprites while also regularly invading the Abandoned District. It would seem no Paladins other than Avicinda were aware of the true purposes of their work, being only given pieces of the truth here and there, just enough to keep them loyal and willing to abuse their power.

Giroda is presently working on reforming them into a better peacekeeping organization.

Temple of Wishes Library

Color: light green

Ornament: dark blue gemstone of some kind

Roles: maintaining the books in the archive, importing new books, Faewish education

As head librarian, Pokobo's coloration is more yellow-green than her colleagues'.

They seem to be far fewer in number compared to other groups.

Under Chigda's rule, the library was completely closed off to the public as part of his efforts to control history.

Giroda reinstated Pokobo after her firing and has allowed the lending of books. He's also allowed her to start importing new literature to improve Faewish Sprites' critical thinking and general education of the world beyond the Wishing Woods.

Delicious Wish Clinic

Color: standard blue

Ornament: bandage patch on side of hood

Roles: doctors, medical staff, treating Desperation Syndrome, assisting the dye station

We saw them in action when the mutated vines attacked the wishball field. Not much to say about them IMO, they're doctors and most of them are found in the clinic, which is one level above the residential area. Desperation Syndrome is their biggest concern but it's not as common as in the past due to the improvements to the Wish Inspection Center. Most of their work comes from young Faewish Sprites.

Interestingly, you can find a lot of them helping at the dye station.

Dye Station

Note: I'm unsure if there is an official name for this one

Color: light blue, close to cyan

Ornament: glimmergrass flower

Roles: conversion of glimmergrass into dyes, bottling and storage of dyes, management of dye inventory, several also work for Timis

There does not seem to be any of them with the supervisor outfit that I could find.

They are mostly found at the dye station, reachable via cannon to the right of the Temple of Wishes (I'm noting this because I always get lost trying to find them).

Most of Timis's Beauty Lab staff appear to also be from this group, so they also probably consist of a lot of designers or are more inclined to be interested in makeup due to the nature of their work.

The dyes are mostly used in preparation of clothes for baby Faewish Sprites for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

Medical staff can be found assisting them as well. Maybe because a lot of them left to work for Timis...?

Anglers

Note: there's no official name for this if they are a formal organization/group, so I am going by Gooeybo's shop "Angler's Catch"

Color: light(ish) blue

Ornament: fish fin

Roles: they are fishing!

As far as I could find, Gooeybo is the only angler with the supervisor style outfit, but does not seem to use the coloration.

A few can be found diving in the river beside the Beauty Lab's Waterwheel.

Gardeners or Farmers

Note: this is another one with no official name as far as I've seen and in fact it's not spelled out what they do, but based on the placement of these NPCs and what Bachada sells, I assume they are either of the above

Color: turquoise

Ornament: four pointed star flower with two green leaves for supervisor, two leaves for standard

Roles: appears to largely be in charge of cultivating plants like lampbloms and glimmerglass, harvests sol fruit and stellar fruit, presumably they are the ones who wrap Delicious Orbs in sol fruit leaves

Bachada seems to be the only one with this ornament and the supervisor outfit, but does not use the coloration. I feel like I've seen other NPCs with this ornament, but I'm having trouble finding them.

They can be found in several places, but notably some of them are working in Dorobo's kitchen overseeing the Delicious Orbs and other vegetables.

Ironically, I couldn't find any of them working in the farm that Timis rented.

Minigames

Color: dark orange

Ornament: standard minigame hat

Role: facilitating minigames

I just felt like I had to include them.

#infinity nikki #infinity nikki spoilers #infinity nikki lore #faewish sprites #i uhhh this probably wouldve been better as a google doc or smth huh but. i got really far into it before thinking this so i got committed #TIL THERES A 30 IMAGE LIMIT #thankfully I hit it on literally the last image #i think i got everything i wanted to say down

111 notes · View notes

mrs-starkgaryen · 2 days ago

Text

The weekly essay that no one asks for but Maggie seems to enjoy and I certainly do-

So to mo further ado-

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

A) you make him an ass 😂

B) but I also made this reference so I forgive him

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

A) ho ho, that's awkward

B) skinny cake- damn Hollywood is already affecting her, bless

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

A) put the knife down Baela, babes

B) for Jace's sake

C) I hope this is foreshadowing- Becca goes full Michael Myers when she finds out something scandalous (just my sleep deprived brain)

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

A) it feels like his eyes are stuck, like the only thing that can move in a plastic face like a scream for help, if you get me

B) I was gonna say you can't change the eyes but I realised you can. There goes my 'eyes are windows to the soul' shit and how it will show how Sunshine will still always have the same soul (hopefully) deep down

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

A) ah creepy

B) he's getting that money money, ofc he's smiling

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

A) she's so sweet, she will crack later with how Hollywood is gonna eat her up

B) slack as in she will collapse with the pressure of pretending

C) even the floor is fake, pretending to be something it's not 😭

D) she will have to take her cover (dress) of LA dreams off when the actual nitty gritty of fame comes to her

E) I'll come back to the eyeshadow.. they're getting darker...

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

A) poetry, especially the last two lines

B) Hollywood is not the [framed] picture-perfect idea she has, she is still looking up at it even when times are tough but will it be enough?

C) being manipulated and measured is totally what the fans will do to her, omg

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

A) I had hope and I had prayed and Aegon came to save the day (poetry ooh)

B) he came running- perfect 👌

C) I wonder if she'll return the favour one day...

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

A) least he says hello

B) what a babe

C) also not looking downwards? Gentleman

D) I hope he brings it up later "I really wanted to see what you had underneath" *bites fist*

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

A) Aegon is gonna eat her up

B) but me too, anything for Aegon

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

A) don't look at her like that, it's not like she invited him for the boob viewing 😭

B) oh girly is in LOVE

12. Dr. Cunningham’s office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes.

A) nothing to do with the story but that song makes my eye twitch lmao

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

A) "yes daddy"

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

A) and shit hit the fan

B) he has some sort of condition where he's forgetting things slowly and it's gonna decline so fast isn't it

C) that's why he wants out quickly before he's remembered for it!

D) I can just see actor Aegon forgetting lines and his family wanted him to take it easy 😭

E) my baby and sunshine thinks he doesn't remember cuz he doesn't caree

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

A) my shaylaaaa

B) Maggie you're cruel

16. “Uh…1994, I think.”

A) he doesn't care or he can't remember that well

B) I'm gonna look for other clues in the other chapters

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

A) alright sunshine, you haven't met her yet (jokes)

B) ho ho ho- Becca is gonna be selfish? Interesting how that'll play out

C) oooh, Dragons. good connection Mags

18. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.

A) cooler colours for something bad brewing?

B) silver and blue eyeshadow.. blue meaning loneliness... both aegon and sunshine are lonely.. speculation..

19. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Mario’s Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored.

A) Mario is Aegon isn't he?

B) the maze represents his mental condition: foggy and unclear

C) or it could be describing Hollywood- a confusing and toxic place but the coins (fame and riches) make it worth it? Hence why the power bar rejuvenates a little, but it won't her going forever?

D) also Becca is Waluigi lmao

20. Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shaken—not in a good way—and for some reason you feel like you’ve made some horrible mistake.

A) oooh girllll

B) both of his bitches in the same room

C) That wasn't supposed to happen

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

A) Mario is dead, nice. Bye Aegon

B) or it means her collapse in being in Hollywood

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

A) wait no Becca is kind of cute

B) this will be interesting if we like Becca

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

A) stop she's sweet

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

A) interesting.... she noticed something in his look... did she catch on?

B) does she know he got rid of his other clients but her?

C) you know it's bad when he starts cleaning 😂

25. “And I guess they’re growing on me.”

A) stopp

B) I love it, she's growing on him too (already has)

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

A) the newness of LA is lost to him whereas she still is experiencing it

B) ah the Venus flytrap- Hollywoooooood

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

A) so the plants are gonna die, aren't they Mags?

B) you're preparing us for worse stuff

C) she's gonna be busy with something or distracted and the plants die

D) she's gonna say the same to Aegon when he's dying on his bed 😭

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

A) stop Aegons gonna break my heart (but not as bad as later ey)

B) he's the only one who seems to appreciate her cuz there ain't no sunshine when she's gone 🎵🎶 they both need sunshine

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

A) oh he will know about someone disappearing 😭

B) last good thing he will do here or ever??? Is he on a mission to die peacefully??

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

A) she's so sweet

B) LA will take advantage of that

C) I hope she stands up for herself soon. This world sucks.

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

A) sus.. why is her address in the file? That doesn't sound right.

B) ew gross scene- no need and WHY DIDNT THIS CHANGE GO THROUGH AEGON, THE MANAGER FIRST??

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

A) he doesn't babe

B) he's gonna lose his shit and pop an eyeball and be mistaken for Aemond in his anger 😠

C) if I don't get there first

Love your work as usual, and I keep noticing you pointing out dogs in this chapter. I'm watching you

A Curse [Chapter 3: Flower District]

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

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

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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

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

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

“What are we celebrating?” you ask.

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

“Which part?”

“The one in the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aegon’s fiancée.”

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, yeah! How’d you know?”

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

“Being an influencer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just a consultation.”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“Yeah, Baela’s cool.”

“She offered me a piece of Funfetti cake.”

“Did you take it?”

“No. I was in a hurry to get here.”

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

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

“I can’t,” you reply.

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Where are we going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…1994, I think.”

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She giggles. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Minnesota,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turks and Caicos,” Becca clarifies.

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

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

“I wish. Not yet, maybe one day.”

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

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

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

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

“Well, Brando eats them,” Aegon explains.

“That makes sense.”

“And I guess they’re growing on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What just happened?” you ask Aegon.

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

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

He sighs. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I want them back?”

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

“They’re yours. Enjoy.”

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

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

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

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

“Really?! Yay!”

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

“I definitely will.”

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

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

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

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

Aegon is disappointed. “Are you a fan?”

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

“Yes, you get to meet them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to retire.”

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

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

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

“Then what’s the rush to leave L.A.?”

“It’s the right time.”

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

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

“But I don’t want another agent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…the bathtub scene?” you squeak.

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

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

“You mean an intimacy coordinator?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See ya.”

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

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

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

“Lingerie.”

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

“Thanks,” you reply weakly.

Baela squints at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

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

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

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

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

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x you #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

110 notes · View notes