#the “i want to die but i'm told to live; i want to live but i'm told to die” describes the argument between bosch and nowak when confronting

[deansbeer]

★ SUNSETS, SOMBREROS, & SURPRISES // birthday boy edition.

SYNOPSIS. you surprise dean with a getaway to mexico for his birthday, complete with heartfelt gifts, a sunset stroll, and life-changing news.

WARNING(S). birthday fluff | f!reader | implied sex | post-sex cuddles | alcohol consumption | heartfelt declarations of love I mild strong language I dean's fear of flying (related to S1 EP4 of supernatural).

-> if i missed a warning, please do let me know !

KARI'S NOTES. happy bday to baby boy <3 he deserves everything in the entire world, and i believe (in my head) he is very much alive + living his best life after giving up hunting because S15 never happened. anyway! i hope u enjoy this, which was just sitting there in my notes all day <333

DEAN WINCHESTER'S birthday had always been a quiet affair—if it was celebrated at all. most years, it was just a beer, maybe a piece of pie if he was lucky, and maybe sam would remember to say something. it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the effort when it happened; it just wasn't something he was used to. birthdays were just days, right? another year older, another year spent fighting the good fight.

but this year, you weren't having it.

you'd been planning this trip for weeks, keeping everything under wraps as best as you could. it wasn't easy; dean had a way of sniffing out surprises, especially when it came to you. but somehow, you managed to keep him in the dark.

so when you told him—casually, over breakfast—that you had booked a trip for the two of you, his fork froze halfway to his mouth.

"a trip?" he repeated, brows furrowing.

you smiled, taking a sip of your coffee. "yep. two weeks, just you and me. no cases, no monsters, no bunker. just… us."

he gave you a suspicious look. "where?"

"mexico," you said, watching his reaction carefully.

dean blinked. "mexico?"

"mexico," you confirmed, grinning.

he set his fork down, leaning back in his chair. "and how exactly are we getting there? because i know baby's not built for that kinda trip."

you tried not to laugh. "we're flying."

his face immediately twisted into a grimace. "oh, hell no."

"dean—"

"nope. not happening. i'm not getting on a plane."

you sighed, reaching across the table to take his hand. "you survived it once, didn't you? besides, this isn't a hunt. it's a vacation. you have me with you the whole time, and i promise, nothing's gonna happen."

he stared at you, his jaw clenching like he was trying to come up with another excuse. but you gave him that look—the one that always made him cave—and he finally sighed, muttering, "fine. but if i die, i'm haunting your ass."

you laughed, squeezing his hand. "deal."

the flight itself was… tense. dean was on edge the entire time, gripping the armrests like the plane was about to fall out of the sky. you spent most of the flight holding his hand, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, and distracting him with small talk. by the time you landed, he seemed a little less tense, but he still muttered something about never doing this again as you grabbed your bags.

but once you stepped outside and felt the warm sun on your face, all of his complaints seemed to melt away. the two of you made your way to the hotel, checked in, and by the time you reached your room, dean was actually beaming.

the room was beautiful—large windows overlooking the ocean, a king-sized bed, and a balcony where you could hear the waves crashing in the distance. it was perfect.

"damn, sweetheart," dean said, dropping his bag and whistling low. "you really went all out, huh?"

"only the best for you, birthday boy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

he turned in your arms, pulling you close. "you didn't have to do all this."

"i wanted to," you said simply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

the rest of the evening you both spent it enjoying each other. after some steamy sex that left both of you tangled in the sheets, you laid together, the warm breeze from the open balcony door cooling your skin. dean had an arm draped over you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder as you rested your head on his chest.

"this is nice," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"yeah," you agreed, your fingers brushing over the ridges of his abs.

you had two surprises planned for him, but you decided to start with the one you knew he'd love.

the next evening, after a lazy morning spent in bed and a quick swim in the hotel pool, you and dean got ready to head out to a restaurant you'd researched weeks ago.

dean had noticed you staying up late in the bunker, your laptop open and your brow furrowed in concentration. he'd assumed it was for a hunt, maybe some research sam had roped you into. but now, he realized it had all been for this.

as you stepped into the restaurant, dean was immediately greeted by a group of staff who placed a large, brightly decorated sombrero on his head. you'd called ahead, asking if they could do something special for his birthday, and they'd certainly delivered.

he looked ridiculous, but the grin on his face was worth it.

"you planned this too?" he asked, glancing at you as he adjusted the sombrero.

"of course," you said, smiling. "it's your birthday, baby. i wanted it to be special."

the two of you spent the evening laughing, eating some of the best food dean had ever tasted, and him having a few drinks. you even ordered for him in spanish, your fluency leaving him both impressed and—if the look in his eyes was anything to go by—more than a little turned on.

"damn," he said after you helped him pronounce something on the menu. "never thought i'd find spanish sexy, but here we are."

you laughed, shaking your head. "glad i could surprise you."

later, as the two of you walked along the beach, the sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink, dean seemed more relaxed than you'd seen him in years. he was barefoot, his flip-flops dangling from his fingers, and his other hand was firmly clasped in yours.

you wore a long white summer dress, the fabric fluttering in the breeze, and dean couldn't stop stealing glances at you.

"you look beautiful, darlin'," he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

you smiled, your cheeks warming. "you don't look so bad yourself, my love."

when you reached a pair of deck chairs, you both sat down, dean immediately pulling his closer to yours. his hands rested on your thighs, his touch warm and grounding as he stared out at the ocean.

you took the opportunity to pull out the first gift—a small envelope with his name written on the front in your neat cursive.

"what's this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed it to him.

"open it and find out," you said, grinning.

he carefully tore it open, pulling out the letter and saw tickets inside. his eyes widened as he read the letter, and by the time he got to the tickets, his jaw had dropped.

"no fucking way," he breathed, staring at the words 'Metallica VIP' printed on the tickets.

"yes way," you said, laughing.

"you're serious?" he asked, looking at you like he couldn't believe it.

"dead serious. we're going as soon as we get back."

he was quiet for a moment, his eyes misting over as he looked back at the tickets. then he set them down and pulled you into his arms, kissing you all over your face.

"you're amazing, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you laughed, brushing a tear from his cheek. "you deserve it, dean. you deserve everything."

he shook his head, his smile soft. "i don't know what i did to deserve you."

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "you're you. that's enough."

after a moment, you pulled back, reaching behind you for the second gift.

"there's one more thing," you said, your voice growing a little shaky.

dean frowned slightly, his brows furrowing. "what more could you possibly—"

you held out the pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly.

"i'm pregnant, baby," you said softly, your eyes searching his face.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words. then a slow smile spread across his face, and he let out a choked laugh.

"you're serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face. "yeah. i'm serious."

he let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around. you squealed, clinging to him as he laughed, his joy infectious.

when he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips.

"thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for… everything."

you smiled, resting your forehead against his. "happy birthday, my love."

that night, you celebrated with champagne — he drank one for you and himself — laughter, and the quiet promise of a future filled with love.

SPECIAL TAGS. @figthoughts @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @rafespreciosa @voidsuites . . . ☆

[arthur-lesters-frontal-lobe]

Oh boy do i have the AU for you

Instead of facing the king in season two, Arthur decides to run away and live in the dreamlands. Trauma ensues yada yada yada and after ten years he is captured by the king one final time. He spends the next four years being tortured and starved. Eventually the King decides to put him out of his misery and let him bleed out. And well... i'll let you read the rest

“John?”

“Arthur- Arthur- you- fuck oh fuck Arthur. Oh- Arthur- you're- we need to- We need to get your bag. There has to be something to stop the bleeding. You're- there's so much blood. Arthur-”

Arthur knew he was a lost cause, he knew he'd die, but John wouldn't give up, he'd do everything he can. And- it feels nice to be cared for, it's nice to not be at each other's throats, only talking so Arthur knows what's happening around him. “Okay- where is it-t?”

“Its a few feet to your right, we need to crawl there, your legs are- they're- unusable- to say the least.” Arthur laughed, John was trying to soothe him, to convince him everything was okay. “I'm going to get us there. I'm going to get us there. Okay?”

“Okay John.” He strained. “On 3, 1.. 2.. 3..” John dug his nails into the dirt bellow, groaning as his broken hand had a full body to drag. Arthur tried to roll on his stomach so John could have more leverage, putting pressure on the femur jutting out of his thigh. He whimpered, he wanted to scream at the pressure, but he just nodded when John told him he's going to move forward. As he did, it felt like the bone shifted further out of his thigh, “JOHN JOHN- STOP STOP! PLEASE- JOHN.”

“What happened? What's wrong?”

“My- my leg- the femur. John- it hurts it hurts so damn much. I can't- we can't get any farther- it hurts. It's so painful to move. John- John- Fuck” Arthur whimpered, going back into a fetal position. He heard John gasp and try to hide a sob, as his mutilated hand rested on his chest again. “Arthur you need to stay awake. We need to stop the bleeding-”

“It's no use John- we- we both know I’m going to die. I appreciate you always caring for me, fixing me up when I do something stupid. But we both know this is it” Arthur stated.

“But there must be a way, Arthur. Arthur- please- you can't die now-” John sobbed.

“Okay. Just- give me a moment. I- I feel light headed- I’m exhausted. I'm so fucking exhausted.”

Arthur couldn't tell if it was his or John's tears rolling down his face, it very well could be both of them. This pain was nothing he ever felt before, this was hell, his skin burned as the wounds all stung like venom. He took his mask off to better intake air, but even still, it hurt to breath, his lungs pressing up against his broken ribs. “Are you okay? Is your hand-”

“I’m fine Arthur. My hand has broken like yours, and the pinky- it was ripped out. But it's fine. Its nothing compared to what you're feeling.”

Arthur felt so horrid for John, for what he had to endure. “I'm sorry.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes John?”

“You- you can sleep now. There are no more miles we need to travel. You can rest now.”

“But I promis-”

“I know. I know. And you did. But there's nothing we can do about that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Arthur.”

John situated them so that Arthur was covered by his cloak, so he was at least somewhat comfortable.

“Rest now Arthur, you deserve it. And I’ll see you when you wake.”

“Okay John.”

“Good night- friend, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good sleep, this too shall pass.”

i hope malevolent ends with arthur laying down for a nice long sleep. i want the last few words to be 'goodnight john' and 'goodnight arthur'. i hope the silence is sweet and peaceful. i dont even care if anything else goes well or not. i dont care if john gets his own body or arthur gets faroe back. i just need him to lower himself down for one last time, just for one good sleep. its the only ending i want for him.

[ephemeral-roses]

Note: This isn't accurate to events in mythology, of course. In the myths, Leuke and Peitho have no connection to each other other than they were both daughters or Okeanos and Tethys. This is just me being creative and wanting to do more stuff with Peitho. This is all based on a recent ask I got regarding whether or not gods can die, what happened to Leuke, and if that means Peitho could die as well. The topic of the River Lethe was brought up and how Leuke could've drank from it and reincarnated, and that's why her soul didn't just stay in The Underworld. I started asking myself if Leuke's soul would remain godly or not.

◆

He didn't want her to ever get hurt, especially by him, after he had hurt so many others before, to a point he thought harming others was an inevitable part of his life. Before Leuke, the gods didn't think they could die. But after she died, they began to question the limits of their immortality. They weren't endless. Others weren't endless. She wasn't endless. Both of them were daughters of Okeanos and Tethys, Okeanides. So, were Okeanides the ones at risk from death? If so, would there ever be a moment where Peitho would die, and him falling in love with her was fate handing him another accidental victim? Thinking about it brought Hermes the same horror he felt when he accidently killed Krokos. The issue of himself was that he didn't know when to slow down or stop all together, and when he acts, he does it without thought and boldly, with no regard for others. When the horrible thought entered his head, he tried to be more mindful of his surroundings when he did things and the strength of his hand as it held hers. But he didn't believe it was enough, so he went to seek out Leuke’s reason for death to avoid it. Many of the gods did not know how Leuke died, including Haides, but he had an idea of who knew.

River Styx was a respected goddess, who everyone promised to obey when they swore an oath under her. He had a few oaths sworn under her name, oaths he wouldn't dare break. The sun and moon's paths across the sky weren't visible to The Underworld, with a ceiling of stalactites above. Things could be beautiful in The Underworld, but only further along. That's what made the journey meaningful. So, so far, there were only the sounds of pained groans coming from the waters.

He crouched down by the River Styx, his silver herald wand clutched in his hand that hung by his side. “Sorry to ask but… Do you happen to know how Leuke passed?” Hermes asked, and rather hesitantly too. Cold as she seemed, Styx was still Leuke's sister, so he didn't know if the pain of the lost still lingered.

With a splash, a head peeked out from the water, and a pair of piercing eyes stared directly at him. “What spurred this question?” The river asked, her voice smooth but equipped with what made others feel dread. She didn't seem too bothered with the question.

“I'm just curious. You know how often I get curious— you were the one who had to pick little baby-me up by the arm and find my way back to my mother after I ran off.” He replied.

He was curious, yes, but wasn't just curious. Styx knew there was no reason to pry. If he wanted to keep it, he could keep it. She wasn't the one to desperately try to learn about the lives of others. Besides, she could already tell it had to do something with fear.

“Ask the River Lethe.” Styx told him. “She knows everything.”

The River Lethe… The river of oblivion. As someone considered so smart, he certainly felt dumb for not realizing that perhaps Lethe knew everything about what happened, because perhaps she was the reason… Her being involved would be the only logical reason behind Leuke no longer being bound to Haides, as the river was truly the inhabitants’ only freedom. A mortal who drank from it would forget the events of their living days. Sometimes, they would drink from it to be born anew.

It didn't take Hermes long to get to the sluggish waters of Lethe, of course. His feet were swift, always has been, and he knew every inch of The Underworld, after escaping his mother’s supervision as she slept at night many times, and his job as the Underworld's psychopomp. He liked discovering places and memorizing where they were, so becoming the psychopomp when he was a young man gave him the chance to have open range. When he set his feet on the ground, it was against dark grass with bright red poppies and other herbs scattered about. The river was slow-paced, as it sat close to Hypnos’ cavern.

“Lethe.” He called out to the goddess, rubbing his eyes before taking off his brimmed traveler's hat and swinging it off to the side, held onto his body by the string whose arms hugged his shoulders and hands fell down at his chest, covered by his night blue chlamys.

Out from the slow water, peeked out Lethe, looking back at him with tired eyes, not entirely there, but waking up to her surroundings.

“I'm sorry for waking you up but I'm conducting a little investigation of my own, and I need a moment of your time…” He started before she interrupted with a loud and long yawn. He continued, “Styx told me you know everything about what happened to Leuke.”

Lethe's upper body emerged from the water and rested on the grass, her lower body in the water. “Why would you want to know?”

“I'm just curious—”

“You're not just curious.” Despite how tired she was, she was observant, and more willing to pry than Styx was.

Hermes let out a sigh, sitting himself on the grass. He was growing too tired of standing up, but it didn’t stop his feet from fidgeting there as he sat. He never truly knew how to stay still, even when he was asleep, as tossing and turning was usual behavior of his. Thankfully, Peitho was a heavy sleeper so she never stirred from his movements.

“I worry about death.” He admitted to Lethe. “Not about the death of myself, but of others.”

Lethe hummed out, taking a moment to think.

“Leuke couldn't do much to persuade Haides to let her go when he abducted her. His mind was set that he wanted her to be his, regardless of how she felt. The loneliness of himself mattered more. But, he was stupid with his plan. In The Underworld, she was surrounded by many of her family. He thought since so many were there, she'd feel at home, when in reality, they were just as willing as her to get her out of here.”

Hermes listened carefully, the poppies making him feel more relaxed and less tense.

“She was desperate to get out, so I told her to sink into my waters. By the time Haides got to her drowned body, the water filled up the place where her soul used to be, and it was mine to do with. We cleared her memories and reused her soul.”

“So… Gods can't actually die, just have their memories cleared and their souls reused… But I suppose that is a bit like dying. Still, she didn't die of injuries.” he rubbed his chin as he thought about it, tilting his head to the side. “When you recycled the soul, what did it turn into?”

“As a child of Okeanos and Tethys once again, so they can have their daughter back once more. They raised her with much caution, and she clung to them. She was repurposed into Persuasion, as a way to keep her safe from the events that once happened, since she couldn't persuade it into being otherwise before. So worry not. Nothing bad will come of your gods. Leuke was a deliberate choice, not a mistake.”

The poppies didn't do much to settle him down anymore, as there began to be a thumping in his chest as Lethe spoke. As observant as Lethe was, he didn't think she knew exactly why he was so startled by this news. Or, maybe she did, and she couldn't bother any less. She didn't bat either of her tired lidded eyes.

He didn't want to ask anymore questions, as he felt like he had already gone too far, like he learned something he was never supposed to know. All he did was respond with a simple nod of his head, put his hat back on, get up, and go on his way.

It was late when he got home, which wasn't a surprise. Hermes had begun his investigation right after he delivered all of the souls to The Underworld, which always began when the moon took show in the sky. He had already warned her he was going to miss dinner and that he'd try to eat while on his mission. He didn't eat like he said he would, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She had always worried about others, including him.

Peitho was already asleep in bed, and after he took off his hats, chlamys, and boots, Hermes carefully got into bed next to her, even though he knew he wasn't going to wake her. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to his body.

Hermes knew he should've slept that night, especially with what he had planned for the next day— he was gonna skip his job for the day, and spend the whole day with her trying to make it special for her. But, his mind was restless as he continued to think about what he had just learned. Despite being unable to sleep and all of the thoughts rushing through his head, the only thing that seemed to calm the racing of his heart down was Peitho close to him, much like the poppies by the River Lethe.

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 8

Prev

Author's note: Sorry it took so long. I rewrote this whole chapter because I was just not happy with it. Though I am glad I took the time because this chapter feels more critical than what I would have released. Plus college and work have been a hot mess, so updates might be slower but they should be same quality.

You sat at the breakfast table by yourself. Last night you could barely sleep after burning the blood cover clothes. In the end you had maybe one or two hours of sleep. Giving up at 6:30am you went down early for breakfast.

There was a yawn from the hallway shortly before Barbara rolled into the dining room. She stopped at the entrance to the room, blinking at you. "Oh morning. You're up early."

"So are you. Or do you count this as late?" You leaned back in your chair. One of the books you had gotten with Duke in your hands. There was a decent calm but you still didn't like the quiet.

Barbara rolled closer to you. She stopped when she was sitting next you. Placing her hands on the table, she took a deep breath. You paused your reading to look her. She had a look on her face that told you she was about to ask questions. You shifted yourself away from her slightly, "Don’t. Please just don't."

"I'm trying to find who hurt you (Name). I just... I need a little more information to work with." Barbara leaned forward bracing her arms on the table. "I know you got upset with Dick for asking..."

You scoffed closing your book, "Babs. Please just drop it. I guarantee you that you're not going to like or find anything I tell you useful."

"I want to help you get the justice you deserve." Barbara reached a hand out to you. An olive branch. You almost reached back, almost told her everything but stopped yourself.

The devastation you felt at learning everything was a lie. That the person you trusted not only failed you but almost certainly betrayed you. It was destroying some integral in you. Could you do that to someone? Sure you had committed murder but Davis had deserved for taking part in your suffering. Plus you let him die with his world view intact. But Barbara?

"Would still wish to get me justice if you learn that someone important was involved?" This was your test for her. If she didn't hesitate or ask questions, than you'd tell her. If she showed you she was sure she wanted to go down that road than you'd tell her.

Barbara blinked at question. Eyebrows throughing, she opened her mouth than closed it. You deflated when she asked the last thing you wanted to hear, "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind..." You grabbed your book. It was funny to you in a way that the book you were reading was about a girl discovering her world was lie while you lived through it.

Barbara grabbed your hand. There was desperation in her tone, "(Name), please tell me. I want to help you in anyway I can."

"I don't know their names, just faces." You pulled your hand from hers. This was not going to end well. It was only necessary to punish the guilty, not the innocent. Not Barbara, especially if she was telling the truth.

But what if this was a lie? Your chest tied itself up into knots. Was this another misstep that would tip Bruce off to you knowing he was involved. If Barbara told him, or worse was involved in what happened. Shit, what were you going to do?

She grabbed your hand again refusing to let go, "I don't believe you. (Name) we're here for you, I know we let you down in the past but are we here and trying to do better. Please let us in, tell us what happened. Tell me who hurt you."

A tear slid down your face. Pure fear gripped your chest. This was a test not for her but for you. Did he know about Davis? Had killing the accountant been a mistake? You took a few deep breaths, "Barbara, please just let it go. It's not worth investigating."

"It is. You're worth investigating for."

"No, I'm not." You pulled your wrist from hers. The hollow feeling in your chest was coming back. You needed to get out of the manor, at least for a little bit. It wasn’t safe here. Turning you ran from the room.

You weren't a 100% sure where you go so long as it wasn’t there.

Tim stared at the tablet in his hands, still attempting to process the information from the Davis scene. It was a messy scene. The killer had seemingly playing the blood yet had left no finger print. Even the message on the wall didn't help identify the killer, they had it written with Davis's severed thumb. A truly demented move or a forensic counter measure. Sighing he lowered the tablet back down onto his dresser.

After adjusting his tie, Tim exited his room. Walking towards the dining room he was prepared for another sit down with (Name). What he wasn't prepared for was said girl running into him at full speed. Her hands were pressing into her chest and her breathing was frantic. Tim reached out grabbing her to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

She started to kick and claw at him. Tim held her at arm's length before pulling her in as close as he could. She was clearly have a panic attack of some kind. He focused most of the pressure of the hug on her upper chest where her hands had been digging into. She thrashed around for a bit before going limp in his arms. Tim looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years.

She was slightly shorter than Damian. Yet she seem so much older than she was. No longer was the three year old girl that had stolen his mask. The confused and upset little girl was gone replaced with a haunted ten year old. Tim picked her up.

She was still limp and nonresponsive when Tim brought her to the living room. Setting her on the couch, he grabbed a weight blanket they had for Jason. Tim had always found her the hardest to communicate with. Out of all his siblings she was the one he knew the least about. Attempting to help her now just made that clear. It was concerning.

He was supposed to know almost everything about everyone. The genius prodigy who could tell you anything. Expect for where (Name) was concerned apparently. She really was one mystery after another. But Tim was good at solving mysteries.

"Hey, focus on my voice okay." He got her to look at him. Her stare was vacant and floated everywhere but his face. "Can you tell me five things you see around you?"

"There's..." She blinked, eyes searching the room. "Two cameras in this room, the model suggest that they have audio."

Tim blinked. She was right but those cameras were hidden. One in the bookcase by the TV and the other in the camera rod pointing towards the hallway. Her shaking didn't stop as hers eye moved between the cameras and door. "No hiding spots."

Tim stood up. First he moved the book camera so it was facing the opposite direction. She blinked mildly confused, Tim took that as a good sign. Than he turned the curtain rod so the camera was pointed to the ceiling. (Name) tilted her head to the side. Tim walk back to crouch infront her, "What are five things you can see?"

They ran through the grounding technique. At the end Tim had chosen to sit next to her. It was peacefully quiet say for the occasionally buzz of Tim's phone. He checked it to see some text messages from Barbara, Bruce, and Damian. Tim shook his head turning his buzzer off. (Name) was still shaking. Tim bit his lip, while watching, "Do you want talk about it?"

"No." She shrugged the weighted blanket off her body.

Tim nodded, "Okay. Bruce wants us to come to breakfast."

"Bruce is on business trip until Tuesday." She gave him a weird look.

Tim shook his head, "He came back early after Alfred called about you arriving suddenly. He wants to check that you're okay."

"I don't want to see him." (Name) turned away from him.

Tim blinked slowly. He remembered from before she disappeared that she had always want to see Bruce. On more occasions than he could count she had asked him give the man invites to open houses, art displays, science fairs, and school plays. She had always wanted her dad to be there. For that to have changed, something truly bad must of happened.

Maybe she didn't feel like she deserved to be near Bruce. Tim knew he struggled with that after Junior. It took time to mend his relationship with Bruce. Maybe that's what she needed, time. Tim could give her some time, "That’s okay, but we probably should still get something to eat."

"Right." She nodded at Tim hollowly. She bit her lip slightly, "did Jason come back to the manor last night?"

"No, not yet but I can message him and tell him you're asking about him." Tim pulled his phone out, ready to send the message.

"No, it's fine...I have to go the library today." She started to mess with her fingers looking towards the window. Tim patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll grab something from the kitchen and give you a ride to the library. Any requests?"

"Do we still have GoGurt?"

Jason shoved another piece of burned debris out of his way. Just as suspected the address the guards had given them was also torched. There were signs that the people involved had taken the lighter equipment. Sparking cords hung from the ceiling with old broken cameras. A few still had scalpels sticking out of them.

"Dude what are we doing here?" Roy Harper asked from behind Jason. After storming out of the manor, Jason made a few calls. The Outlaws now walked behind him in the destroyed building. Bizarro, Artemis, Kori, and Roy had all answered his call to track some people down for 'personal reasons'.

"Remember when I told I have a little sister." Jason said while kicking open a door. It opened to what the sources had called the Main Hall. There was rubble blocking the path to the rooms in the hallway. Evidence pointed towards them detonating a small bomb in the hall way. Her cell was located on the left hand side, the door hanging open. There were four other doors down the hallway. Jason only knew what one of them was, which was a locker room across from her cell.

"Me no remember" Bizarro called from behind him. There were sounds of confirmation from the others. It might have been words, Jason honestly didn't care.

"Turns out she wasn't at that boarding school in Shanghai like I had thought she was." He hated having to admit that but these guys would get it. He hoped. They knew how he almost visited her everytime they were China. Now he wished he hadn't stopped himself, hadn't let her go.

"Wait, wha... Oh shit.", Roy put the pieces together quickly. He began to look around the charred remains of the facility with horror. Out of all his friends, Jason figure would understand the most. "She was here wasn't she and not for good reasons."

Jason nodded to Roy assessment, "We think they were preforming experiments to try and create Meta Humans."

"Oh, The poor thing. What do you need us to do?" Kori started to move debris out of the way. Artemis began helping in moving rubble. They made a clearing to the rest of the doors.

Jason sighed shoving open the door to the locker room. All of the lockers were tumbled over. Most of them looked empty but Jason still pointed towards the room, "We're looking for anything that could be a clue as to who these bastards are."

"Misunderstood." Bizarro said with a nod. With that he headed into the locker room. Set the lockers upright, he checked inside for anything useful. Jason pointedly ignore the room Kori entered. He didn't want to see where they kept her.

"Hold up, I need a little more information than that Jace." Artemis grabbed Jason's arm. He grunted gesturing for Artemis to continue, "Were they successful in making a meta human?"

"Yes, she developed a regeneration ability." Jason started towards another room in the hallway. The layout matched what the two guards had told them. Even if the two didn't know what happened in the last three rooms they knew something important in happened in them. They had taken Jason's sister into two of them. The first door not far from her cell and the last door at the end of the hall. The other door next to locker room only the scientists had entered.

"How did she get out of here?" Roy followed close behind. It was a valid question to ask given the security this place had. Jason had counted 25 cameras and they had to get through three security doors to get here.

Jason shook his head, "She stole a bunch of scalpels, gouged a guy's eye out and stole his keys. Right before she killed a completely different guy while running like hell."

"Fuck, she is your sister." Roy breathed. Jason reached over and smacked him across the back of the head. Roy grabbed where he was hit, "Oww dude. What the fuck that was a compliment. You got a badass sis."

"She's the innocent one in this family." Jason sighed as he opened the door to the room they most often brought her to. It looked like a sterile operation room with a water pool in the left corner. There was a musty scent in the room from the still water. Various tools were throw about from knives, to whips, to guns. "She's not supposed to be fighting or going through stuff like this."

"Have there been anytime attempts to recapture her? Traffickers hardly like to let their 'product' go." Artemis words were phrased carefully. Jason blinked before moving towards the next room urgently.

Green was blurring his vision again. This wasn't good, "No. And it's been six days since she escaped."

"They don't wait that long, even for the 'problematic' ones. Something ain't adding up here." Roy joined Jason in the next room.

The room next to the locker room was the most torched. Scorched remains of papers covered the floor with a flipped over filing cabinet. There was also some sparking medical equipment and a computer. The two walked further in. Roy picked up a piece of half burned papers. He blinked as he read it before reading it again out loud, "Subject Origin's recovery rate appears to be two hours for a bullet chest wound after the removal of all shrapnel. All vital organs show signs of being fully healed and operational. Despite lossing brain activity for an hour and fourty five minutes, Subject Origin shows no signs of inversible damage. This is a good sign for Project Raphael. What is Project Raphael?"

"I don't know." Jason picked up another piece of charged paper. Roy moved closer to see the paper. "The operational for Project Raphael was a success, despite Doctor H and Doctor Q's walking out. Subject Origin is showing signs of recovery. New Subjects Alpha through Hotel are being prepared for transplant. Monitoring period of six months set to begin in secondary locations."

"That might explain why they haven't come for her." Roy pulled back rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason gave him a look, "Huh?"

"Yeah, thinking about like these guys. If whatever they're doing has already moved on to different subjects than having the Origin isn't necessary until you need more subjects. So why not just let her go until they know whether the first 'batch' is successful?" Roy shrugged hapzardly.

"Cause that would a massive security threat." Jason gestured to them simply being in the room. "She's already tipped off every vigilante in the area."

"That’s probably why they trashed the place." Roy kicked some of the paper causing it fly up. "There's probably not much to find here."

Jason growled. Roy had a point, they could nothing if they didn't know what they were even looking for. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the paper. "Just grab what you can. We might be able to find something important."

Roy sighed but began to pick up other pieces of paper that seem legible. Jason quickly sent the picture to Tim with a brief note to be ready. Roy held up a paper with only Subject Origin written on it, "Hey all of these refer to them doing some fuck up shit to Subject Origin."

"Just focus on grabbing the things, we'll worry about what they say later. I'll focus on recovering the computers hard drive." Jason was focused on taking deep breaths. If those paper were truly talking about (Name) that meant she had endured worst things than they were originally think. Barely injured his ass, they were shooting her just see how she would recover. Lossing brain activity meant she was medically dead for a whole hour. Green was starting to over take his vision. Doctors H and Q had some explaining to do when he found them.

The computer wouldn't turn on. Jason decided to just take the hard drive. It would be easier to recover information at the batcave anyways. Even if that meant go back to the manor. All he needed was a name or a picture. Something to point him in the right direction.

"Hey Jace, I think we got something." Artemis was calling from the hallway. He grabbed the hard drive before going to check out what they were talking about. Artemis held up a burned student ID for Gotham U's Medical school. "Bizarro found this in a locker. Can't read the Name or see the picture but we got the last 3 digits of a student number."

"Good, it will help us narrow the list down." Jason nodded looking around the place. Roy had been right. There really wasn't much to see that wasn't destroyed. Jason was willing to bet they wouldn't find any real names on the computers hard drive. That was assuming it wasn't wipe.

"I have found this in the sleeping quarters." Kori came out of the room holding a scalpel with dried blood and some decaying matter. Jason half laughed, she actually did gouge out a man's eye to escape. He wasn't sure if he was impressed or horrified. On one hand his sister could defend herself. On the other hand she should never had to do that in first place. Whatever Project Raphael was it had pushed her to a limit Jason never wanted her near again.

Jason got yanked out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. Unlocking it he saw a text from Tim. "Drop off everything you got from that place at the Batcave. Also be at the library at 2pm, (Name) will be wrapping up there at that time. Pick her up."

Jason looked at the time 11am, they had three hours. "Let’s move."

Prev

Taglist:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist @kittzu @bat1212 @vanilliona @welpthisisboring @plsfckmedxddy @tulnukaz @eyeless-kun @daisy56789 @dandelion-delusion @damianwayneisthebestrobin @crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @1nternetc4t

Sorry if missed anyone or misspelled your tag. Just DM and I will get it sorted out.

[sunshinecatie]

So I just finished reading Stephanie Brown's Batgirl run. I've been holding out finishing it officially because she's my favorite and I didn't really want it to end so soon. But she's a titular part of my thesis so my procrastination could not wait any longer. "So Catie, you just finished Steph's Batgirl run! How do you feel?" Sad.

So sad is a bit too vague. I'll explain why I feel this way, because alot of it does stem from my personal view and connection to Stephanie.

Stephanie's the underdog. She's always been the underdog of the Batfam. Never taken seriously by Bruce, and very rarely by Tim (depending on the writer). She DIES guys. And yes it was retconned when DC realized how badly they f'd up but seriously. She doesn't even get a memorial like Jason or Batgirl. In fact, in her Batgirl she's told that the only way to get a suit in a case is to die, become someone else, or retire.

... well Steph technically died, but I guess being 'fired' doesn't count as being retired either.

I digress. Her batgirl is beautifully written and I could go on for far too long talking about how Steph grows and flourishes under this mantle with Barbara as her mentor. As Bruce says in Batman vs Robin "Barbara always was more patient than me" in regard to training Stephanie. Also, her slapping the shit out of Bruce is a beautiful touch.

But its the ending that got me. Steph finds out her dad, Cluemaster, is not only back from the dead but he's controlling all the chaos that's been happening at her college. He's once again the source of her issues. He also drugs her with a hallucinogen that causes her to see her deepest desires. She blacks out. Wakes up in a hospital, with her mother, Crystal Brown, watching over her. Steph's batgirl cowl is still on so she doesn't really know if her mom knows its her, but its implied that she knows its Steph. Later she has a conversation with Barbara. Barbara: "What'd you see when you were under the influence?" Steph: "Stuff."

Hard cut to a montage of Stephanie leading a team with Cassandra. Stephanie being a mom. Stephanie training Tiffany Fox to be the next Batgirl. It's an incredibly touching moment of Stephanie actually seeing her self-worth for once.

We have a really touching moment with Barbara too. (I've cut the following quote from Barbara's lines so its just Steph speaking)

"Regardless of all the places I've been and the places I've yet to go. Right here... Right now... this moment is mine. And once tomorrow is here. there's no more today. Because today, I'm happy. It's only the end if you want it to be." -Stephanie Brown, Batgirl 2009

"Its only the end if you want it to be."

What a way to end it. I dont know if Bryan Q. Miller knew that Stephanie was not going to last as Batgirl. I dont know if he knew Barbara was going to 'become healed' and become Batgirl again. I dont know if this line was a tongue in cheek "Steph may be leaving but you the readers can make her live on. This is the only the end of her story if YOU want it to be" moment. Maybe I'll get to ask him about it one day. But I do know it made me cry.

It made me cry that she didn't get to be more. Cry that Batgirl was taken from her. That she was pushed back into being Spoiler on a smaller scale than even when she was created. That it's been almost 15 years since Stephanie became Batgirl. Oh how I miss her.

But then it made me cry happy tears, because this is her only solo series. We got Batgirl as Steph's solo series. We got to watch her grow up. We got such an accurate depiction of what being a teenage girl is like. I don't know how Bryan Q. Miller did it. I don't know how he transformed himself into Stephanie Brown to write such a fantastic arch for this character. If we don't get to see her again in a solo series, I can rest easy knowing that we got 24 issues of perfect. 24 issues where Stephanie got to be her kick ass self. 24 issues where we got to see her shine as Batgirl and overcome obstacles that hindered her success in the past. 24 issues where we got to see how great of a mentor Barbara is for Stephanie and exactly the one she needed.

I love you Stephanie Brown. I don't think you know how much I do and maybe, just maybe, one day I'll get to write your first Spoiler solo series.

[notmorbid]

the americans: season 2.

dialogue prompts from season two of fx's the americans.

it's good to have the same enemy.

why would you open a closed door?

i've never been very good at waiting.

here, i'll read your palm.

where the hell have you been all these years?

the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

what does a person do for fun in this town?

congratulations. you're the first person i've met who wasn't exactly as they seemed.

i understand why ____ trusted you.

i'm not really supposed to talk about it.

i need help. did you come to help me?

i wish i could stay with you, but i have to go. you're gonna be okay.

we're here to help you. call any time.

how are we gonna live like this?

we'll get used to it. like we got used to everything else.

you didn't have a choice.

how long have you been watching?

i want to help you. let me help you.

i'm glad you're safe.

lying will not be tolerated.

none of this is your fault. do you understand that?

you're still alive. that's a good sign.

maybe you're never really solid.

i wanted to see the world, but i wound up here.

how can you be so nice?

is it okay if we just take things kind of slow?

i don't know why i told you. i'm so sorry.

don't 'honey' me.

i see something you're not able to see. you're afraid.

you're back, but you're not back.

i don't want to lose anyone else.

do i seem like i need sympathy?

would you stop being so reasonable?

i'm not interested in your best. i need results.

i can't tell if you're being kind or naïve.

you're easy to talk to. i'm really surprised.

i'd forgotten the heart-stopping thrills.

i know the look. i've used it myself.

let me put on my 'surprised' face.

i don't have anything to give you. i wish that i did.

i've never seen you scared before.

how can you read right now?

you never know what people are into.

i'm not allowed to change?

do you do that with ____? is that how it is?

you ever had anything you would die for?

i don't want to lie to you. i'm not a liar.

this business can be lonely.

you look like a spy in an old movie.

keep a tiger as a pet, it's still a tiger.

can't be too careful, nowadays.

it's hard to feel safe anywhere.

close your eyes. what do you see?

i see how you can develop a jones for that sort of thing.

you were my secret power.

don't you enjoy any of this? sometimes?

it's nicer here, yes. it's easier. it's not better.

i won't make promises i can't keep.

i need to be done with you people.

get that _____ out of my house.

it's not like i haven't been thinking about it nonstop.

once i did it, it seemed so easy to keep doing it.

i'm a good person, you know that. i'm good.

pick a card. any card. put it anywhere.

it's not cheating. it's called magic.

you think it's easy for me, what i do?

being a grown-up means doing things you don't want to do, all the time.

i thought we were through the hard times, you know?

i can't always be as honest as i would like.

i'm not afraid of the different sides of you. i love all of you.

you know you're everything to me.

either you didn't want to see it, or you just didn't care enough to pay attention.

i'm not here to be saved.

i see that you're in pain.

i wasn't really sleeping.

there are some things in life you can only handle yourself.

you're going to be eaten alive out there.

i'm glad to see you're adjusting to reality.

how much longer are you not gonna talk to me?

please don't ask me anything you don't want to know.

_____. you can say the word.

what's it like to be a hero?

i think the three things a person should focus on every day are health, growth, and community. don't you?

i made a promise to look out for you.

i said i'd be honest with you, and i will be.

i just want to be sure you're being careful.

i love the way you love me.

you don't get to take anything with you.

i'm glad your parents let you come.

being a parent is hard, but so is having parents.

i don't really understand computer stuff.

this is a long road to travel.

maybe you just don't know me as well as you think.

that must have been hard.

there's something wrong with you.

this is what i really look like.

these backwoods roads can be pretty confusing.

people like us don't have a lot of people to talk to.

[gracefuldollgirl]

my 3D aura losses 🤍

doing this bc i know its trending on 3dtwt but i don't post there so i'm posting it here 🦢

ʚɞ staying up and scrolling th1nspo for hours all night instead of studying for my pre-cal exam

-800 that's why you're failing the class stupid

ʚɞ my mom catching me using a measuring cup to measure my cereal so i told her i was just curious as to what a serving size actually looked like

-500 she believed me but girl wth was that excuse??

ʚɞ one of my go to snacks becoming blended up ice with a little bit of soda stream syrup

-200 its so good but my family looks at me like i'm crazy every time

ʚɞ becoming addicted to nicotine bc it's an appetite suppressant

-1000 girl you're getting lung cancer at 30

ʚɞ stealing money from my mom to fuel said addiction

-800 she never found out but i feel so bad (unfortunately will probably end up doing it again)

ʚɞ spending hours after school sleeping to skip supper

-600 not my dumbest move but didn't even work i still was forced to eat afterwards

ʚɞ my brother grabbing my hipbone and saying how ir was concerning how much it stuck out

-1000 validating but why did he have to do that

ʚɞ the same brother saying i look like i gained weight EVERY TIME he visits from university

-2000 just say you hate me and want me dead bruh

ʚɞ despising my friend who's skinnier than me bc of me 3d, and she still talks about how sk1nny she is despite knowing it triggers me and my other friend who also has an 3d

-2000 i despise for other reasons now too but this is what started it and it's kinda resent to hate her bc she's skinny

ʚɞ my room stinking bc i would throw away food and being too depressed to do anything about it

-4000 it was so disgusting never living like that again

ʚɞ my friends saying i looked pregnant after i binged at our schools christmas dinner event

-900 i just stood there awkwardly for 2 minutes wanting to die

ʚɞ going to the bathroom and crying for 20 minutes after measuring myself for a school sewing project

-2000 the teacher got mad at me and all my friends asked why i looked like i was crying

ʚɞ being cripplingly afraid of onions and everything onion flavored

-4000 i've never liked onions but they aren't even unhealthy or high cal???

ʚɞ wanting to pürge but the second i actually g@gged i had a panic attack bc i have emetophobia

-6000 girl you knew this was gonna happen wtf were you thinking

ʚɞ my friend standing behind me for 10 seconds at least bc she wanted to scare me while i was writing an 3dblr post

-10000 i have never been so embarassed in my life

hope y'all enjoyed i want to see more ppl doing this trend on here plss 🤍

[brokencages]

explaining my bpd neji headcanon

this started out as a self projecting hc for a modern au and then it spiraled and now i have a lot to say! sorry if it's incoherent and rambly that is simply who i am.

he displays a lot of symptoms common in (though not exclusive to) bpd. a pattern of unstable relationships, an unstable sense of self/identity issues, trouble managing anger, black and white thinking, fear of abandoment, self harming or suicidal behaviors etc.

first off is his black and white worldview in part 1. he believed in predetirmined fate and that you could do nothing to change it. he uses very extreme words, which i highlighted below, like never, always, unchangable, inevitable, useless, etc. all leaving no room for grey areas or other possibilities, even if deep down he doesn't believe it completely.

he cares for hinata but due to his views and his anger against the upper branch, it 'outweighs'/overshadows the good and he lashes out against her, this is reminiscant of splitting to me. the times we see him lashing out at her violently that had to be stopped by others were impulsive also, split seconds brusts of anger.

he has very little sense of self. from philosophy of fate being predetermined and unchanging, growing up in the lower branch being told his purpose is to protect hinata, and this scene:

it makes sense, it doesn't matter who he is or how he sees himself, since that never spared him or his father. he clings to the label of prodigy, which reminds me of when i struggle with my own sense of self, i latch onto a certain way i'm percieved or a character (cough cough neji).

his role is a genius and he will fulfill that, his role is in the lower branch and he will not escape that, and naruto's role is to lose, and he will not escape that. except when naruto didn't lose and that shattered his whole worldview.

when he previously devalued naruto, hinata, and lee for being weak and trying to defy fate, he was not only called out for doing the same (yk his projection/hypocrisy), but proven wrong, which led him to deeply respecting and idealizing naruto, swinging between the two extremes.

abandonment issues are kind of harder since they're not really shown, but the trauma lf losing his dad very likely resulted in that. so. and something that could be connected to it also is how he feels about weakness:

he's strong, and he's valued because of it. with what he said about how you must live in the boundaries of the judgements set by others and how he avoids being seen as weak, that could him not wanting to be abandoned if he's ever seen that way or if he goes beyond the boundaries of what others see.

during the kidomaru fight he also goes to great lengths to win, which yk happens in all the fights, but he also brings up how he can't lose BECAUSE he's a genius. he was fighting for his friends and naruto (and sasuke... sasuneji sneak...) but i think it's interesting how he still brings this up.

(btw i love the kidomaru fight so much btw it's one of my favourite fights because of neji's development and the scenes where his hair is all loose and when the bird flies overhead and the feather lands in his hand)

now onto self harming or suicidal behaviors! as far as i know it's a common sentiment that his death was suicide, and i agree. while it was to protect hinata and naruto you can't tell me he wasn't atleast a little suicidal T_T he believes that the only fate we share is death, and knows the only way to be rid of the caged bird seal is to die, that's a pretty easy road to suicidal ideation and one i personally relate to. with my chronic illness and mental health issues, i'd only be rid of them if i died, which did lead me to being suicidal and actually attempting.

okay i dont know how to end this but i think those are my big major points. looking at the diagnostic criteria for bpd he hits most. stress related paranoia or loss of contact with reality/dissociation is just an easy headcanon even if its not shown in canon.

okay bye ty for reading 🤍🤍🤍

[ecstaticactus]

MAGGIE WHAT HAVE YOU DONEEEE

i thought him leaving in september was enough of a problem but wdym he's getting married girl

biting that apple after aegon.. telling him he's indeed sexy and attractive.. jokingly begging not to be asked to bend over.. casually oversharing her sex life..

ugh I already love her so much. i feel like her nickname will be related to the sun

lmaooo not the unemployed boyfriend being jace ASDFGHJKJHGFDS we stan the love-hate relationship you have with him!

she's 100% not getting that boob job done

i'm so excited. truth be told i'd rather aegon die than marry becca and live a mundane life while her career takes off. while both of them are thinking of each other every day. no i dont want it!!!!

A Curse [Chapter 1: Chinatown]

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, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), a lil age gap, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, big doomed situationship energy, erotic apple eating, Minnesota.

Word count: 5.6k

💜 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 🏝️

He takes your hand without looking at you. He had been lounging with his green Nike Killshots up on the desk when Brandon, the receptionist, brought you in. He had also been playing a translucent orange Nintendo 64; now the game is paused and Mario is frozen on the screen of the 24-inch television, deep underwater and in pursuit of a gold star affixed to the tail of a giant eel.

“Nice to meet you,” Aegon says without much interest. You’re smiling, not that he notices. Then he nods at the receptionist. “Thanks, Brando.”

“Oh, no problem at all!” Brandon trills buoyantly, pulling out your chair for you as Aegon flops back into his own. “Can I bring anything? Iced coffee, matcha latte, Perrier?”

“I’m good,” Aegon says, glancing at your resume where it rests on the desk amongst framed photographs, manilla folders, takeout menus, gum wrappers rolled into tiny balls. You have the impression he hasn’t read it. Nonetheless, you are still smiling.

“How about you, hon?” Brandon asks you.

You don’t want to make him run to a Starbucks or anything. “Um…I’ll take a Perrier, please. That’s easy for you, right? You can just grab it out of the minifridge in the lobby?”

“You betcha!” Brandon darts out of the office and returns in ten seconds. In the elapsed time, Aegon has not looked at you once. Instead, he slouches in his chair and thumps his Nikes onto the desk, sighs, and gazes longingly at the television screen. You sit up straight with your hands folded in your lap. You have dressed in business casual attire for the occasion: a modest yellow sundress and TOMS wedges, warm understated eyeshadow, sparkly champagne pink Dreamer by Anastasia Beverly Hills, matte brown Hope by Huda Beauty. Brandon returns and hands you a green glass bottle of Perrier, ice cold and slippery with condensation, and closes the door behind him as he leaves.

“Look, I’ll be honest,” Aegon tells you, picking up your resume and scanning it blandly. “I don’t want to waste your time, but I’m really not in the market for new clients. Brando made this appointment before I told him that, and then he really didn’t want to cancel it. He liked your resume or something. So I’ll hear you out but don’t expect much.”

“Oh. Well…I really appreciate you taking the time to see me anyway!”

He gives you a swift sideways look as if suspicious of your enthusiasm. It’s not that complicated; you haven’t had an audition in weeks, and none of the other six agents you’ve seen have signed you. Aegon Targaryen’s drab little office in one half of a duplex in Elysian Park is a relative paradise. His blonde hair is gelled back from his face. He wears dark jeans, a teal t-shirt, and a wrinkled tan sport coat jacket thrown carelessly overtop. You’ve Googled him; he’s thirty-five, so a decade older than you. “Where are you from?”

That’s on your resume he hasn’t read. “Minnesota.”

Aegon’s eyebrows shoot up. “No wonder you left. City or country?”

“A town called Apple Valley, it’s about a half hour outside of Minneapolis.”

“So you’re not a nepo baby.”

“A what?”

“Your parents aren’t connected to the entertainment industry in any way.”

“Oh right, no, they definitely aren’t. My dad’s a cardiologist. My mom worked as a waitress while he was in med school, and now she just has a lot of Akitas.”

Aegon flips over your resume and skims the back. “Are they supportive of you being out here?”

“Um…” You chuckle uneasily. “Not really. My older sister’s a pharmacist and my brother’s in law school, so I am definitely the underachieving child. But they’re not too mean about it. They’re just waiting for me to get it out of my system.”

“Law school where?”

“Michigan.”

“State or University?”

“University.”

“So you’re really smart,” Aegon says. He has begun to fold your resume into a paper airplane. “Intelligence is genetic. If your siblings are book smart, you probably are too.”

You smile and shrug, not knowing what to say. “I guess so.”

“Do you have a boyfriend back in Minnesota who’s calling you every other day trying to convince you to come home and marry him and have two kids and a Goldendoodle?”

You laugh. “No, no boyfriend. I mean, I have an ex-boyfriend there. I see him sometimes when I fly home to visit. But he’s not standing in the way of anything.”

Aegon nods like you’ve passed a test. “Do your parents send you money?”

“Yeah, but not a lot. They don’t want to encourage me. I work at a Cold Stone Creamery in Harbor Gateway, it’s just a few blocks away from my apartment. I have a roommate, she’s trying to be an actress too.”

“Ice cream,” he muses. He launches your paper airplane resume; it sails across the room, hits the mint green wall, nosedives to the floor. “Do you like working there?”

“It’s fine. It’s a paycheck. Back in the spring I was doing after-school programs for Mad Science, driving all over Watts and Southeast teaching children about bugs and magnets and outer space, so that was really cool.”

Aegon looks up at you, brow furrowed. It’s the first time you’ve had his full attention. “You were doing after-school programs in Watts?”

“Yeah, it was awesome. The kids were so fun. But I needed something that was more flexible so I could be free during the middle of the day for auditions and stuff.”

He blinks at you a few times. “Why do you want to be an actress?”

You stall, twisting open your Perrier and taking a gulp. “That’s a hard question.”

“It’s literally the most obvious question. If you can’t answer it, I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“Well, I never wanted to be an actress,” you say. “I just kind of…am one. I can’t read a book without my expressions and my posture changing to match what’s going on in the story. I can’t watch a movie without feeling like I’m in that world with the characters, or, or, or imagining how I would have delivered the lines differently. And then even when I’m doing something totally unrelated…math homework, walking my mom’s Akitas, making ice cream…I envision where the cameras would be if I was being filmed, which way I would tilt my face to catch the light. It’s something I think about all the time and I can’t turn it off. So how am I supposed to be a doctor or a lawyer and spend my entire life trying to avoid every thought that occurs to me organically? It sounds like torture.”

Aegon stares at you, a long golden silence as daylight pours in through the windows facing the east. Then he drops his green Nikes to the floor and straightens up in his chair, studying you. He points to the windows. “Look that way.”

You do, closing your eyes when the glare is too bright.

“Now the other side of the room.”

You turn to the mint green wall where your paper airplane resume rests on the hardwood floor like the wreckage of the Titanic sits at the bottom of the ocean.

“Stand up.”

You set your bottle of Perrier on his cluttered desk and obey, but with some reluctance. “Please don’t ask me to bend over.”

Aegon snorts a laugh. “That’s not what I’m doing. I want you to go to the door and then walk back to me like you’re angry.”

“I have a bunch of acting reels on YouTube—”

“I don’t want to see your acting reels. I want to see you in front of me right now.”

“Okay,” you agree. You go to the closed door, take a moment to shake off the real world, and then walk to his desk, your footsteps heavy and your eyes hard. Aegon’s dark blue gaze follows you and does not waver.

“Look at me like you’re sad.”

You imagine he’s said something horrible to you, a husband who’s broken a vow, a doctor with a grim prognosis.

“Good!” Aegon says, animated now. “You get it. It’s in the eyebrows, not the mouth.” He gestures to your chair. “Now sit down like you don’t want to be here.”

You move sluggishly, like you hope someone will interrupt you; your eyes float boredly around the room. Then you plop heavily into the chair and stare at Aegon, a little vacuously inane, a little resentful like a petulant teenager. You pretend to chew gum you don’t have.

Aegon smiles, amused. “If I’d asked you to bend over, would you have done it?”

“I’d like to say no, but I’m pretty desperate.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “Don’t let a man make you uncomfortable. Don’t believe anyone if they say they want to drive you somewhere to see you audition or take your picture and nobody else you know is going. When you go to clubs and parties, watch the bartender make your drink and never put it down until you’re done. Don’t get talked into plastic surgery. Yes, that includes Botox and fillers.”

You sip your Perrier. “Well, I might get a boob job.”

“Don’t get a boob job.”

“Why not? Basically everybody here’s had one. I think Taylor Swift got two.”

“You don’t need a boob job,” Aegon says impatiently.

“I’m not sure you have all the knowledge to make an informed decision about that.”

“I am so sick of this bullshit,” he mutters, pushing the takeout menus and manilla folders around on his desk but leaving it no tidier. “People cutting up their perfectly normal bodies…people stuffing themselves full of poison…so afraid to look human they end up like motherfucking Bratz dolls.” He sighs and peers up at you again. “Just so you know, I’m getting out of L.A. I’m only going to be here until September. So by then you’ll have to find someone else. But I can get you started, I guess.”

You are beaming. “You’ll be my agent?”

“Yeah, but like I said—”

You squeal and leap to your feet, taking his left hand with both of yours and shaking it vigorously, Aegon gaping up at you. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I am going to be the best client you’ve ever had, I will never ever complain, I will do anything you say, I will audition with snakes and tarantulas, I will swim with sharks.”

Aegon grins, perhaps despite himself. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Why are you leaving in September?”

“I’m getting married. Figured I’d do the whole settling down and living a quiet life thing.” He spins around one of the photographs on his desk so you can see it. In the frame, Aegon is standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon with a woman around his age, tall and willowy, long thick dark hair, flowing white sundress, wearing black aviator sunglasses to match his.

“That’s exciting!” You love weddings. “And you two look so happy together!”

“Yeah, Becca’s pretty great.” Aegon takes a stick of Juicy Fruit out of a pack on his desk, shoves it into his mouth, distractedly rolls the white and red wrapper into a ball. “She’s a real caretaker type. Always trying to do my laundry and pack me lunches and bake pies and whatever.”

“And that’s something you look for in a woman?” you tease lightheartedly. Aegon gives you a lightning-quick annoyed glance, and your smile abruptly dies. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t fire me.”

He chuckles and stands up from his desk, his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. Mario is still underwater, forgotten on the frozen television screen. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”

“Right now?” You slide your phone out of your purse—crossbody, wildflowers, Patricia Nash but found at T.J.Maxx—to check the time. “It’s like 10:30 a.m.”

“They’ll be open by the time we walk to Chinatown.”

“Okay!” Lunch can only be a good thing. Still clutching your Perrier, you trot after Aegon into the small lobby, scuffed wood floor and cheap IKEA couches. Behind the reception desk, Brandon is making notes in a planner using one of those pens with a fake flower on top. He looks up at you and Aegon as you pass by.

“Brando, I’m taking an early lunch,” Aegon tells him.

Brandon is hopeful. “Are you signing her?”

“Yeah, but it’s just until—”

“Oh for cute!” Brandon cries out, and Aegon is stupefied. But you know exactly what Brandon means. He must be from Minnesota too. So that’s why he liked my resume. Los Angeles is kind of like the military; once you’re swimming in this multinational fishbowl, everyone from your home state is a friend.

“What part?” you ask, smiling.

“Duluth.”

“Bet the Pacific Ocean beats Lake Superior any day.”

“Have you been to Venice Beach yet?”

“Oh yeah. Heaven on earth.”

“Good luck with everything,” Brandon says, and then he winks. “I hope you get to stay.”

Stay in L.A. Stay here chasing the dream. Me too. Then you follow Aegon through the front door and down the concrete steps to the sidewalk, out into breezy mid-70s air and sunlight peeking from behind pure white tufts of cumulus clouds. You can hear music and dogs barking. The street is lined with quaint midcentury houses with metal fences and humming air conditioning units in the windows; any businessowners here are hanging their own shingle, beauticians and pet groomers and bakers. On the horizon, you can see the silvery skyscrapers of Downtown.

“So about that resume I clearly didn’t read,” Aegon says as he walks with his hands in his pockets. “Have you done any meaningful acting work since you’ve been out here?”

Why lie? “No.”

He gives you a shellshocked look like this is the worst case scenario. “Well…I appreciate your honesty. So you’ll take anything.”

“Absolutely anything. I mean…” You take an anxious swig of your Perrier. “I’d really rather not be naked.”

He’s laughing again. You’re not sure if he thinks you’re funny or ridiculous. “I’m not going to pitch you for roles that require nudity.”

You are relieved. “Okay. Cool.”

“Where did you act before?”

“After college I did some short films for grad students…they’re all pretty terrible, I’ll admit it, but I didn’t write them…and I was in a bunch of shows at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. And I worked in the gift shop.”

“Guthrie?” Aegon says. “Like Woody Guthrie?”

“No, common mistake. A completely different Guthrie. Some English lord who was a director.”

“Which shows were you in?”

You describe your roles, all supporting, none leading: Romeo and Juliet, Othello, A Streetcar Named Desire, Pride and Prejudice, Julius Caesar, Anastasia, Frankenstein, August: Osage County, Richard III, Dracula. Aegon listens but he watches you too, the way you stride in your TOMS wedges over the cracked and uneven sidewalk, the way you use your hands too much when you talk, a habit you’re trying to break. His eyes on you—that deep and tumultuous blue—do not feel like a leer, and you think you’ve acquired enough experience in your past three months in Los Angeles to know the difference. Aegon’s gaze is no longer disinterested but methodical, practiced, ever-seeking, notes transcribed not in ink but electrical impulses and ineffable cyclones of neurotransmitters.

“Dracula,” Aegon jokes. “Vampire experience, huh? Maybe we could get you in the Twilight reboot.”

“Is that really happening?”

“It is, but it’s going to be animated. So it’s only voice acting. And I think we can aim higher than that.” He pauses at an intersection and looks lost for a few seconds, then remembers the way and bears to the right. This street is busier, hectic with shops and pedestrians, teenagers on skateboards, vendors advertising their fruit smoothies and boba teas. Red banners printed with twisted dragons and Chinatown 2025 hang from the streetlights. Towering palm trees cast shadows in the shape of windblown leaves. “Do you get along with your roommate?”

This is a random question. You finish your Perrier and discard the glass bottle in a trashcan. “Yeah, she’s really nice, we’re friends. Why?”

“Good. Housing instability is a huge source of stress for young actors, just wanted to make sure you weren’t in danger of ending up sleeping under a bridge.”

“I might be if her boyfriend ever gets a job and can pay half of the rent.”

“Well if it happens, let me know. I can help get you set up somewhere.” Aegon yanks his phone out of his jeans pocket to check the time. “We’ve got a few more minutes to kill,” he says, and ducks into a market strewn with crates of produce: bitter melon, bok choy, pears, pomelos, dragon fruit, peaches, plums, durian, sweet potatoes, kumquats, lychees. You follow after Aegon as he weaves through narrow, crowded aisles, inspecting the wares and waving to shopkeepers that he recognizes. He asks you as he points to a dozen cardboard boxes overflowing with apples: “Does this make you homesick for Appletown?”

“Apple Valley,” you correct him, laughing. “And not quite. I’d rather have Venice Beach.”

“What’s the state apple of Minnesota?”

“I have no idea.”

“Let’s find out.” He uses his phone to Google it. “Honeycrisp.”

“Oh neat! Those are pretty good.”

“Are they?” He searches until amongst the Granny Smiths and Fujis and Golden Delicious apples he finds a box labelled Honeycrisp. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried one.”

“Now’s your chance.”

Aegon picks up a large, glossy apple, pinkish-red and striped with yellow, and takes a massive bite. Juice dribbles down his mouth and chin; he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I’m going to pay for it,” he assures you when you look startled. He chews, deliberating. “This apple sucks. This is a flop apple.”

“You are blinded by your anti-Minnesota prejudice.”

“It’s boring.”

“How can an apple be boring?”

“It’s like…too sweet. Not tart enough. Not as good as a Braeburn or a Pink Lady. Here.” Aegon tosses the Honeycrisp apple and you catch it. Then, when you stare at the sizeable bitemark he’s left in the fruit: “Wait, I mean, you don’t have to eat that part, obviously. Try the other side—”

But you’ve already bitten over the same spot, enlarging the wound, your tongue grazing the notches left by Aegon’s teeth. You giggle as you lick juice from your lips. “It’s so good. You’re delusional.”

Aegon watches you for a while before he speaks. In the meantime, you finish eating the apple with quick chomps. “Are you medicated?” he says.

“What? No, why?”

“You just seem…I don’t know. Bizarrely happy.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m in Los Angeles, I’m living the dream, I have a brand new agent. My life is amazing.”

“Okay,” Aegon says uncertainly; but he’s smiling. When you pitch the apple core back to him, he catches it. Then he grabs a plastic bag off a hook and drops one fresh Honeycrisp apple inside. “We’ll let Brando be the tiebreaker.” He shows two fingers to a shopkeeper and pays in cash. You steal a glimpse of your phone; it’s just after 11:00 a.m.

Down the street from the market is a set of steps leading into what appears to be a basement. Instead, when Aegon opens the red door, on the other side is a restaurant already filling up with patrons. The tables are round and covered with crimson tablecloths; at each seat is one of those paper Chinese zodiac calendars with all twelve animals and their descriptions.

“Good morning Mr. Aegon!” a tall middle-aged waitress says warmly and ushers you both to a table by a large fish tank with opalescent pebbles lining the bottom. From the other side of the glass, colossal black-and-orange oscars gawp menacingly. The waitress passes you a menu.

“No,” Aegon says, snatching the menu out of your hands before you can open it. “Order what you’d normally get.”

Obediently, you turn to the waitress. “Do you have moo goo gai pan?”

She nods. “White rice or fried rice?”

“White rice, please.”

“Mr. Aegon?” the waitress says.

“Boneless spare ribs with fried rice. And a pot of tea, and two wanton soups. Thanks, Lanying.”

She hurries away to tend to other customers. You ask Aegon playfully: “Did I make the right choice?”

“You did. Naturally low-calorie but high in vitamins and protein. If you’d ordered the sesame chicken and only taken two bites I’d know that you probably have an eating disorder. But now I’m optimistic.”

“And you got the most unhealthy thing on the menu. What does that mean?”

“Life is short. I try to keep it delicious.” He taps the side of the fish tank; one of the oscars attempts to maul him through the glass. “Do you exercise?”

“Not by choice. I force myself to walk to and from work, and that’s the best I can do.”

Aegon seems alarmed. “I don’t think you should be wandering all over Harbor Gateway. Especially not at night.”

“There are always other people around.”

“Yeah, and some of them might mug you.” The waitress arrives with a pot of tea and two small, handleless cups. Aegon fills both with tea, slides one to you, and reaches for the little plastic container of sweeteners on the table. “Splenda?” Aegon guesses correctly and then flings several yellow packets across the table to you.

“Can I ask you something now?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Aegon says. The waitress returns with two bowls of wanton soup and makes conversation with Aegon briefly. She inquires about his health, his parents, his business. You wait until she leaves to ask your question.

“Why did you stop acting?” You Googled Aegon before your meeting, so you know some abbreviated version of his story: a wealthy and prominent family in the production industry, several years spent as an actor beginning when he was around your age, a shadowy withdrawal into working as an agent with a practice so small and off the beaten path that it must be deliberate. He could have coasted his whole life on effortless roles in Lifetime movies or Hulu original series. Instead he chose obscurity, and a drab little office in half of a duplex on a run-down street in Elysian Park, and Brandon the receptionist as his sole employee, and clients who are nobodies like you.

Aegon slurps broth from his spoon, stalling. He’s caught off-guard; you can tell by the way deep troubled grooves appear in his brow. That’s part of being a good actor. You have to learn how to read people until you can feel their emotions as if they are your own, until you can mimic them so convincingly your own pulse quickens or your stomach drops. “Um…well I think I got sick of how superficial it was, all the obsessing over height and weight and wrinkles and who’s in and who’s out, the unwinnable contest of who can be perfect the longest. We’re supposed to play real people but we’re not supposed to be real people, you know? And there are just a lot of things about this place that can leave people jaded and fucked up in all sorts of ways we weren’t before. And I don’t want that to happen to you, so I’ll try to make it as good of an experience as possible.” He smiles. It seems genuine. “I don’t really miss it. I’m a better agent than I was an actor.”

“And you’re not even that good of an agent.”

He laughs and shakes his head, just watching you, just trying to figure you out. He looks down at his Chinese zodiac calendar. “What are you?”

“I’m a dragon.”

Aegon reads aloud: “You are eccentric and your life complex. You have a very passionate nature and abundant health. I could see that. Kinda sounds like you.”

“Which animal is yours, the horse?”

“Yeah, 1990.”

You study his description. “Popular and attractive to the opposite sex. You are often ostentatious and impatient. You need people. I don’t think you’re very ostentatious.”

“But no qualms with the other parts?”

“No, the rest seems accurate.”

He stares at you, those overcast blue eyes curious, searching, maybe a little puzzled. When the waitress brings out the entrees, Aegon spears a piece of his boneless spare ribs with his clean fork and offers it to you. “Here, you want to try this?”

You really shouldn’t, but you make an exception. You take his fork and eat: saccharine blood red sauce, glistening gelatinous fat. It’s one of the most delicious bites of food you’ve ever tasted…and then it’s gone. You warn Aegon as you return his fork: “You’re going to die early.”

“I know,” he says, watching the oscars scowl at him through the glass.

You walk back through Chinatown together, Aegon swinging around his plastic bag with his Honeycrisp apple for Brandon, you listening as he tells you what each shop is known for and points out a temple dedicated to the goddess of the ocean. Now the sky is clear and the sun is high, and hot, and blinding when you aren’t under the shade of awnings or palm trees.

You say cheerfully once you have returned in Elysian Park and you can see Aegon’s office, a blue neon sign that reads Targ Talent Agency pulsing in the window: “So do you have any fun plans for Father’s Day?”

“Nope. My dad’s dead.”

“Oh my God.” You’re so mortified you almost trip over your own feet, your TOMS wedges stumbling over the pavement. Aegon instinctively reaches out to steady you, and you grasp his hand gratefully. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine. It happened when I was in college so I’m used to it.”

“He must have been young.” Forties? Fifties?

“Yeah,” Aegon says shortly, letting go of you. “Are you doing anything special?”

“My parents are paying to fly me back to Minnesota. But I won’t be gone long, I promise. It’s just a few days.”

Aegon smirks roguishly. “Going to make time to see that ex-boyfriend while you’re there?”

You smile, a little bashful, a little mischievous. “I might.”

He chuckles. “Enjoy. Don’t get pregnant and ruin all your hopes and dreams.”

“Oh no, don’t worry, I can’t take the pill because it made me suicidally depressed but we use condoms.”

Aegon is bewildered, his jaw hanging open. “You don’t overshare like this in auditions, do you?”

“No, sorry, I thought you were asking me a question.”

“It wasn’t a question, it was a comment.”

“Oh. I thought it was a question.”

He shakes his head and stops at the 2003 Honda Accord—painted in a shade called Desert Mist Metallic—parked curbside, a gift from your parents when you went away to college only to return in disgrace with a Theater Arts degree that they lie to their friends about. From one of the nearby houses, you can hear Take It Easy by The Eagles drifting out into the sun-drenched street. “Is this your ride?”

“Yup! This is me.”

“Well I’m going to make some calls and see what I can get you, and I’ll let you know either way in a few days how it’s going. Brandon has your phone number and headshots…and I can find your acting reels on YouTube if I need them…yeah, I think that’s everything. Okay?”

“Okay. I hope you get the star.”

Again, you have confused him. “What?”

“In the Mario game. The one on the eel’s tail.”

Aegon grins and slips black aviator sunglasses out of a pocket inside his jacket and says as he puts them on, maybe to the sky, maybe to you: “You are so bright, sunshine.” Then he climbs the steps to the front door of his small, inauspicious office.

“Aegon?” you call after him. At the top of the concrete steps, he pauses and turns around. Here in the shadowless midday light, you are overwhelmed with gratitude. It’s difficult to speak without your voice breaking. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“Don’t thank me. This place is a curse.”

He opens the door and disappears inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Guess who has an agent?!” you announce ecstatically as you burst into the apartment. Baela and Jace are in the living room on the velvet orange couch, eating sushi and watching True Blood on the 40-inch flatscreen television that Baela’s parents bought for her.

“Congratulations!” Baela says from the couch. “Finally! I’m so happy for you!”

“Yeah, that’s awesome,” Jace agrees as he shovels pieces of a shrimp tempura roll into his mouth. Jace is Baela’s boyfriend of six months. He’s allegedly getting a PhD in Musicology at UCLA, but he only goes to class one or two days a week and does exceptionally little other than that. Once in a while you’ll overhear him pounding on the Yamaha keyboard he keeps in Baela’s room, cursing to himself and kicking the wall in frustration.

“Is he nice?” Baela asks, meaning your new agent.

“I think so,” you say thoughtfully. You aren’t sure that nice is the right word. “He’s kind of weird and grumpy. But I really like him.”

“Is he old?”

“Not at all. Aegon’s thirty-five.”

“Ew,” Baela says. “Old.”

“I really like him,” you say again, smiling to yourself without realizing you’re doing it.

Baela groans. “Please don’t be one of those girls who fucks their agent.”

“No, it’s not like that. He’s engaged to someone super gorgeous. They’re getting married in September.”

“Huh,” Baela replies, losing interest now. Her eyes have drifted back to the tv. She hasn’t landed a role as a film lead or a series regular yet, but she’s been working steadily since she got to L.A. and her star is ever-rising. Tomorrow she is auditioning for Yorgos Lanthimos’s new movie. She’s not allowed to tell you anything about the script. It’s a secret; it’s an honor.

You go to the kitchen for a drink and stop when your gaze catches on the calendar affixed to the stainless steel refrigerator with plastic magnets shaped like pineapples. Friday, June 20th is circled with red ink; in the box below, you have scrawled the necessary details.

Baela twists around on the couch and sees you. Her voice is gentle; she knows you’re nervous. “When’s your appointment?”

“Next week.”

“You’re really getting sliced up?” Jace says.

You smirk at him, less than appreciative. “It’s just a consultation. But yeah, probably.”

“You scared?” Jace asks, gnawing on a pod of edamame.

Obviously. You sigh. “I think it has to happen if I want to land roles.”

“I haven’t gotten any plastic surgery yet,” Baela says, not meaning to sound smug.

You murmur as you ponder the time and address written in red on the calendar: “Well nobody is saying you need to.” You’ve had no less than ten people suggest implants outright, and far more have implied it. Aegon is the only person you can think of who dismissed the idea summarily…and that includes your parents. Your father has been emailing you doctor recommendations. He must think it’s a good investment for your post-California-detour life.

“It will give you more confidence,” Baela says as she turns back to the tv. “A little extra something to take you to the next level.”

You stare at her forlornly from the kitchen. You are suddenly very aware that you miss being outside: the sun, the heat, the swaying palm trees, the radiant kinetic potential. “That’s part of the problem? My confidence?”

She shrugs, using her chopsticks to dunk a piece of her tuna roll in a small plastic container of spicy mayo. She seems oblivious to how deflated you are. “It’s just so hard to stand out here, you know? The phrase ‘California dime’ exists for a reason.”

Jace glances at you over the back of the couch. “I think you look fine.”

“Thanks, Jace.”

“I think you’re easily a California nickel.”

“That’s super sweet, Jace.”

Now Baela is telling him to shut up and they’re bickering back and forth, but you aren’t listening. You take your phone out of your purse and open Instagram. You search for Aegon and find his account; his username is superstargaryen. You follow him. Within a minute, just long enough for you to click through one of his highlight reels—mostly pictures of the beach and trips to In-N-Out Burger—he follows you back. Then you receive a DM.

Aegon has typed: Brando says the apple is good

You giggle to yourself as you tap out a reply. Told you :)

Aegon responds: Or!!! All Minnesotans have no taste

And then he adds a few seconds later: I had to Google that word…Minnesotans…sounds fake

You reply: Please use Google to get me a job instead

He starts typing something, then stops and reacts with a laughing emoji instead. You pull a can of Diet Coke out of the fridge, wondering what he was going to say before he changed his mind.

Late that night, after a nine-hour shift at Cold Stone Creamery, you shower and crawl exhausted into bed wearing an oversized blue L.A. Dodgers t-shirt that you’re swimming in. You turn on your laptop and open YouTube, search for Aegon’s acting reels from ten years ago, fall asleep listening to his voice like the endless ethereal rush when you hold a seashell to your ear.

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; "Talk like what?"

It comes out bitter, mean. An angry old dog protecting the wound in its side. "Like I don't have all the answers?" He still sounds just as tired and wrung out as he feels, as though the nervous energy had all at once seeped through the soles of his feet down into the freezing pavement. All that's been left in its wake is the simmering pain that's been there for years, the anger that lies draped across it. " 'Cause I don't know how or when you got that in your head, but I've never had them."

Even without the denial of space, Vash wouldn't have gone to sit back down. There's a wall there, now; maybe one that had always been there. Had definitely always been there in some capacity, its corporeality shifting in and out of existence. Playing pretend that it hadn't helped either of them.

"And now you're here puttin' words in my mouth 'cause it's what you wanna hear again. That's never what I meant!" The more he talks the more that misplaced resentment and shame sits hot at the back of his neck, behind his ears, burns in his chest. At come point his fists had clenched at his sides.

"I'm mad 'cause you keep doin' stupid shit on my behalf and brushin' it off, 'cause god forbid I try and care about your wellbeing! You told me you don't wanna die, but you sure as hell don't know how ta' show it!"

"And then every time I try an' get it through your head it's either like talkin' to a brick wall or you gettin' mad at me for tryin' ta' help you in the first place! Mad at me for not carin' and then mad at me when I do! And I know I messed up by not talkin' about it! I know!"

The words coming out his mouth, the accusations being thrown— they don't make Vash feel any better. All they do is make that horrible feeling churning through him feel that much worse. But it's like a dam's burst open, the flow impossible to stop.

"No, I didn't want you to resent me for not talkin' about it— but even if I had, what would you have said? That I shouldn't have done it? I *know* that! I live with that every day! But he wouldn't listen, I couldn't just let him go and kill Liv after Nick had just—"

The words catch in his throat. At some point his entire body had tensed back up, muscles held in place so tightly even though the one who had made them that way wasn't physically there to keep then locked and frozen. It takes a good few moments of silence, steam rising up from heavy breaths, before his jaw and throat finally loosen enough to start croaking again.

" ... You still wanna call yourself the worst now?" he asks quietly. " 'Cause I'm tired of pretendin' to go along with it."

"You, of all people, should know how the both of us have lived!"

"I should?! You've nev—"

Even riled up into raising his own voice, the younger Stampede forces himself to stop his interruption, to bare clenched teeth barely showing out from scarf and hood. The tension feels like it snaps when his predecessor finally admits he's just as lost.

Ever a mirror, his own eyes sting with building tears. But he's the one who keeps his gaze steady onto the other during his rant, refusing to look away. When did they get so different...? He glances at his predecessor's hair, observes how pronounced his eyebags have become. Maybe things were like this from the start.

Without anyone sitting beside him, Vash turns and hugs his knees, denying the space for the other man to return to.

"Never thought I'd hear you talk like this." They'd had their disagreements before, frequently at that, but this might be the worst he's heard. The bitterness and sobering disappointment is clear in his voice. It's hard to reach for more compassion when everything is at stake. Even harder when it's Vash—this alternate self he's idealized for all the while he's known him. Reality couldn't be further from that.

"So what?" Now it's his turn to scoff, to speak with bitter derision. "You're leaving it there? Givin' up on him? 'S that what you meant, 'how we've lived'?

"I don't get it. You were scared of me resenting you if we didn't talk about him, but you never stepped up. You're tellin' me you 'thought too much about it', 'tried not t'think about it'; but no, you didn't do anything about it. You never talked with me, even just t'warn me of what we're up against, n'now you're mad at me for…"

For caring? For trying to do what he thought was right?

"We're outta time. We don't have the luxury of bein' afraid t'make choices." Fingers tighten against himself. "You wanna run again, go. But I can't just leave anyone caught in a tight spot. Includes him. …Includes you."

[coffeegnomee]

Wemmbu being so dead set in thinking that the ticket was going to be his ban is so funny to me.

bro just wants to be free and edit this video.

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[flying-cat]

Two intense hurricanes hitting Florida back to back is fucking insane and like we already know Milton is gonna be category 4 (iirc) when it makes landfall but the fact people were downplaying it when they thought it would be a category 3 is crazy because HURRICANE KATRINA, KNOWN FOR BEING CATASTROPHICALLY DESTRUCTIVE, WAS A CATEGORY 3 HURRICANE (though a lot of its destruction was due to the levees failing in New Orleans). Milton's storm surge is going to be 15-20ft and the fact that anyone at all is CHOOSING to stay is absolutely fucking bonkers. It's one thing about people not being able to leave, which is the majority of people who have not yet/will not evacuate (which is a whole different issue because, by all means, people who are incapable of evacuating for any reason at all SHOULD be receiving help so that they CAN evacuate, but they AREN'T) but choosing not to? Crazy. Insane. Putting you and your family at risk because you want to be a stubborn fucking moron. And the people who are upset about having to cancel their Disney vacations, or people who are REFUSING to cancel their Disney vacations even with the current situation, should be ashamed. Those poor workers have to come to work, worried about their own safety, worried about the safety of their families, and the reason they have to be there is because they're expected to be there by people who don't give a shit about anyone else. What the hell are you going to do at Disney anyway? It's literally going to be raining for DAYS STRAIGHT.

[thal-ent]

Thinking about Renheng...... Men that found each other and want each other back even when one doesn't know the other is who he Dreams of......

[green-mountain-goose]

fuck this shit lol

[heartshattering]

one of us needs to die

we can't coexist

my mom and I are like poison to each other, she makes me want to die so badly, and I know I can never be good enough for her, no matter how hard I try every day, no matter everything I've given up just to take care of her. I'm a shitty person who can't even help her own paralyzed mom correctly without fucking up and "not doing enough" and ruining everything.

I know deep down that it should be me who dies since all I do is bring pain to everyone

my only regret is not dying earlier back when people thought of me as this sweet cheerful girl full of potential instead of a loser adult with permanent mental and physical illnesses who only brings misery to others and should have died 10 years ago

it's just like the psychiatric center told me... I am a case that other people "can't handle", I'm beyond help, nothing in this fucking planet can fix me

I hate myself so so so SO fucking much, more than anyone else could hate me. I really just need to die. the longer I stick around, the more I keep fucking up

I'll probably fuck up at kms too but :) you never know until you try (again)!! <3