#unless they did get something else from me. I can't actually check

[nabesthetics]

The whole art-thieving bot website situation is shitty, but it's still kinda funny to me that the one thing that it stole from me was a random-ass fake screenshot that's in no way poster material.

Unless you want Alastor to be going QAQ at you from your wall.

the true "Lucio being an idiot POV" experience ig. for 40$

[movingmusically]

I found your fics recently and can't stop reading them! You're really talented at this and i look forward to reading more of your work

Can i request something inspired by austin's flirty interaction with a reporter during the sydney premiere of bike riders? He looked so hot in a drenched suit/wet hair.Except the reporter is reader and they end up exchanging numbers and hooking up afterwards.

Word Count: 6.8k

Masterlist

Exit Through the Side Door

The rain hadn’t let up all night. It fell in a steady curtain over the Sydney premiere of The Bikeriders, drenching everything, the carpet glistening with every flash of the camera lights. You stood under a canopy that didn’t help much, microphone in hand, nerves in check—mostly.

You stepped into position just as Austin Butler was ushered over, suit drenched and hair slicked back in a way that really shouldn’t have looked as good as it did. He was all sharp cheekbones and slow charm, water dripping from his collar, his grin disarmingly casual as he turned toward you.

Oh.

That was your first thought. Just—oh.

Because you’d seen the press photos, the interviews, the clips. But they didn’t quite prepare you for the real thing. Not for the way his gaze locked onto you as if he had all the time in the world. Not for the way he wore the rain like it was part of the suit.

“Hi Austin,” you said, offering your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he repeated, taking your hand with a firm but warm grip. “Have we met before?”

You smiled. “Not unless you’ve been secretly watching Australian breakfast news. Maybe I just have one of those familiar faces.”

He glanced down at his soaked attire and then back at you, noting your relatively dry appearance. “You’re dry; I’m soaked,” he said with a grin.

“I was going to say—we’ve really turned on the weather for you,” you quipped, gesturing to the rain around you.

“You sure did,” he laughed. “Are you from here, from Sydney?” he asked before you could get to your first actual question.

You nodded. “Born and raised.”

He smiled. “That explains the accent.”

Before you could reply, he tilted his head slightly, still watching you. “So what are you into?”

The question caught you off guard—not because it was inappropriate, but because of the way he asked it. Casual. Curious. Like he really wanted to know. And maybe it was the way he was looking at you, maybe it was the weather, or the fact that his voice dropped just a little when he said it—but for a split second, your mind absolutely did not go to hobbies.

You blinked once, composing yourself. “What am I into?”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a slow smile. “Like, what gets you out of bed in the morning?”

You let out a soft laugh, deflecting gently. “Bit of a heavy question for a red carpet, isn’t it?”

His mouth curved. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

You raised a brow. “I’m supposed to be interviewing you, by the way,” you said, angling the mic back between you with a knowing smile. “Just in case you forgot.”

He grinned, leaned in just a little. “Am I being difficult already?”

“A little slippery.”

“I’ll behave,” he said, though there was a glint in his eye that suggested otherwise. “I just don’t like talking about myself.” The admission was low, sheepish—and absolutely not the energy of someone who looked like he’d been airlifted in from a perfume commercial.

You arched a brow. “That’s kind of your job tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “I’d rather learn about you.”

“Oh, smooth,” you said, laughing despite yourself.

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, still not letting go of the thread. “How old are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the directness—but far from rattled. “Wow. Straight for the kill.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me.”

You leaned in, mic angled just slightly away, like you were about to tell him a secret. “Let’s just say… old enough to know better.”

Austin’s grin widened, and you could see the moment it clicked for him—that you weren’t flustered. Not really. You were playing back.

“Now I’m intrigued.”

You tried not to laugh. “I should probably jump into the questions, ’cause this is my job. You wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, would you?”

“Depends,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is it the fun kind of trouble?”

You tried not to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” he added, still not taking his eyes off you. “What do you want to talk about?”

And just like that, the flirtation hung in the air—light but electric, threaded beneath the rhythm of rain and red carpet chatter.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as you did. The interview, that is. After weeks of watching clips and prepping questions for the premiere, you’d figured it would be another round of carefully measured answers and predictable talking points. But Austin had surprised you.

Once the teasing simmered down, he’d answered your questions about the film with a quiet thoughtfulness that felt… rare. He spoke about the physicality of the role, the camaraderie on set, the way riding felt like freedom on wheels—his words, not yours. You’d been half-listening by that point anyway, too caught up in the way he kept sneaking looks at you mid-sentence. The whole time, he kept circling back to you. Like he genuinely liked that your questions weren’t the same ones he’d been asked all night. Like you’d managed to catch him off guard, too.

Your crew was wrapping up now, voices raised over the sound of distant applause and the chatter of the still-moving press line. You’d taken a step to the side, microphone now tucked into its bag, your fingers absently smoothing the skirt of your dress as the adrenaline started to ebb. The energy of the red carpet was winding down, and you could already feel the buzz of it fading into something quieter—something a little more surreal.

You were still turning the moment over in your mind—his smile, the way his gaze had lingered just a beat too long—when someone stepped into your periphery.

“Hi,” a woman said, polite but brisk, with a sleek blazer and a laminated crew pass hanging around her neck. “You’re Y/N, right?”

You blinked, a little startled. “Yes?”

She glanced around quickly, then leaned in just a touch. “Austin asked if you’d be alright with passing along your number.”

You stared at her, thrown for a half-second before catching yourself. “He… did?”

She smiled, like she wasn’t surprised you were surprised. “Or, if you’d prefer, I can give you his.”

Your stomach flipped—just a little—and you hesitated. Not out of doubt, but out of sheer disbelief that this night was unfolding like a scene from something scripted. “Right. Um. Sure. You can give him mine.”

She pulled out her phone, efficient as ever. “Great. Go ahead.”

You rattled it off, still vaguely stunned, and she repeated it back to confirm. “Thanks,” she added, already typing something out. “You’ll probably hear from him tonight.”

And with that, she was gone—vanishing into the well-oiled chaos of handlers and publicists and umbrellas moving in choreographed circles.

You stood there for a second longer, barely noticing the rain anymore, heart thudding with something dangerously close to anticipation.

Well. That was unexpected.

But not unwelcome.

Not even a little.

You didn’t linger too long after the carpet wrapped—just enough time to collect your gear and say a few goodbyes. You weren’t technically required to attend the screening, but tonight… you’d made an exception.

Part of it was curiosity. The film, the buzz, the scale of it all. But mostly? It was him.

Inside the ornate, velvet-draped theatre, you slipped into a seat near the back. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, the kind of low, charged hum that only comes with red carpet premieres and sold-out venues. You let your dress settle around your legs, your lanyard tucked away in your bag now, trying to look like just another guest. Though part of you was keenly aware of where the exits were, just in case.

And then the lights dimmed.

The screen flickered to life—not with the film, not yet—but with the host stepping into the spotlight. Moments later, Austin appeared beside him.

Still in the same drenched suit, hair slightly rumpled now from running a hand through it, he took the mic with an easy smile. The audience erupted into applause, whistles echoing through the cavernous theatre. You felt it more than heard it.

He didn’t speak for long. Just a few words about the film, the team, how grateful he was to be there. But he delivered it the same way he’d given your interview—sincere, understated, a little rogue around the edges. You caught yourself smiling.

Then, just as the host moved to wrap up, Austin glanced out into the audience. A quick scan, casual. Meaningless to anyone else.

But somehow—maybe it was luck, maybe it was instinct—his eyes caught yours.

You couldn’t be sure. Not from this far back. But for a second too long, his gaze stayed fixed somewhere in your direction.

Your breath caught.

And then he was gone. Offstage. Applause rising again as the lights dimmed fully and the opening credits rolled.

You stayed for a few minutes. Long enough to be polite, long enough to confirm what you already knew: your focus was not on the film.

Your phone buzzed quietly in your lap, lighting up with a number you didn’t recognise. You opened the message before your heart had even caught up.

Austin: Hey, it’s Austin. Didn’t want to interrupt the movie... But I’m still drenched and skipping the after-party.

Austin: Want to sneak out with me instead?

Your heart did something entirely inconvenient and unprofessional.

You glanced at the screen. The darkened crowd. The glowing stage below.

Then you reached for your bag.

And stood up.

You moved quietly, slipping past knees and whispered apologies, heart thudding in your throat as you edged down the curved row toward the exit. You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to.

The theatre lobby felt cavernous now, mostly empty save for a couple of ushers and a group of stragglers lingering by the merch table. You stepped out into the cool night air, the rain finally slowed to a misty drizzle, the kind that clung to skin and curled into hair.

You barely had time to check your phone again when another buzz lit up the screen.

Austin: I’m out back. Black car. Driver’s with me.

Austin: You coming?

You didn’t respond. Just moved.

Your heels clicked softly against the slick pavement as you followed the side path skirting the venue, past ropes and service doors and a stagehand smoking something that definitely wasn’t a cigarette. It was that in-between moment—storm fading, night settling, the kind of hush where anything felt possible.

And then you saw him.

Still in the same suit, but with the jacket unbuttoned now, clinging to his frame in a way that was entirely unfair. His shirt was wrinkled, the collar slightly askew. He was leaning against the open back door of a black car, posture casual but eyes locked on yours the second you rounded the corner.

His smile was quieter now. Realer. Less for show.

“You made it,” he said.

You lifted a brow. “Didn’t even wait for the opening scene. Bold of you to assume it wasn’t the best part.”

He laughed, head dipping, and opened the door wider. “Couldn’t risk it.”

You tilted your head. “What, missing the film?”

His eyes flicked over you, amused. “Missing you.”

You stood still for a second longer, then ducked into the car.

The door shut behind you with a soft, insulated thud. Inside was warm and quiet, separated from the noise of the night and the hum of the festival. You heard him slide in beside you, the faint rustle of wet fabric and the click of the door as it locked.

You turned toward him.

He was closer now.

Much closer.

His voice was soft when he spoke, low and amused. “You never did tell me.”

You lifted a brow. “Tell you what?”

“What you’re into.”

Your lips curled. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“I haven’t stopped.”

And just like that, the space between you tilted. The quiet of the car was thick now. Not uncomfortable, just… waiting. His knee brushed yours where you were both angled slightly in, facing each other like the rest of the world had politely excused itself.

“I thought maybe you’d change your mind,” Austin said softly, his voice barely above the hum of the engine as the driver pulled away. “Go home. Do the sensible thing.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “I considered it.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “And then I remembered you said you don’t like talking about yourself. Which makes you a terrible interview. So really, I’m just here for professional closure.”

He laughed quietly, that same slow, low sound that had already started to take up space in your head. “Of course. You’re very committed to your craft.”

“Painfully.”

His eyes drifted over your face, less playful now, something warmer settling in. “Wasn’t just the interview.”

You met his gaze, pulse skipping.

“No?” you asked.

He shook his head. “You were different.”

You arched a brow. “Because I didn’t ask what it was like working with Tom Hardy?”

“That helped.” His smile tugged a little wider, then softened. “But nah. Just… the way you looked at me.”

You went still. “And how did I look at you?”

He was quiet for a second too long. Then, “Like maybe you already knew me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to play it off, to reach for something flippant, but nothing came. Nothing that didn’t sound exactly like what it was—a deflection.

Austin didn’t push. Just let the silence stretch. Let the air do its work.

The lights of the city blurred by the tinted windows, casting flashes of movement across his face. You watched them flicker along his jaw, his cheek, the collar of his shirt still damp from the rain.

“You warm enough?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But he still reached over. Just to adjust the air slightly. Just to check.

His hand lingered between you for a second longer than necessary, and when he settled back, his thigh pressed lightly against yours. He didn’t move. Neither did you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, a faint, tinny sound you ignored without hesitation.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He glanced at you. “Do you want me to tell you?”

You considered. “Not really.”

He smiled. “Okay then.”

And that was that.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence, thick with anticipation and the occasional glance that lingered too long. You felt like you were floating above it all—like it wasn’t entirely real yet. Like someone might call “cut” at any moment, and you’d laugh and step out of character.

Except this wasn’t performance. And the look in his eyes wasn’t scripted.

By the time the car slowed to a stop, you still didn’t know where you were, only that it was somewhere tucked away—quiet, dimly lit, and far from the buzz of the premiere. A private entrance. No photographers. No fans. Just a door. And him, holding it open.

“You coming?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

You walked through.

The small lobby was nearly silent, a discreet hum of soft lighting and polished marble. A nod from the driver to the concierge, a keycard already in Austin’s hand. No waiting.

He guided you into the lift without a word, the space too small, too quiet, too charged. You could feel the weight of him beside you, the damp cling of his shirt, the slow way his eyes traced the line of your jaw when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe he wanted you to notice. Maybe that was the point.

Neither of you said a word.

The elevator chimed. He stepped out first.

You followed.

The walk down the hall was short. Carpeted. Quiet. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until he swiped the key, opened the door, and stood aside.

“After you,” he murmured.

You stepped inside.

The door shut behind you with a heavy click, muffling the world outside. Inside, everything was quieter. Dim lighting. Soft shadows. Clean lines and dark wood and the faint hum of an air conditioner overhead. A hotel suite—minimal, expensive, impersonal. But he didn’t look out of place in it.

He raked a hand through his damp hair and looked down at himself, letting out a low laugh. “I’m still completely soaked.”

You stepped in closer, already reaching for him. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

He didn’t move as you slid your hands to his chest, fingers brushing over the lapels of his blazer. You pushed it back slowly, the fabric heavy and damp beneath your touch, and eased it off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the arm of a nearby chair.

Then your hands found his tie—dark, saturated, clinging slightly to his collar. You loosened it carefully, your fingers grazing the skin of his throat as you pulled it free. He watched you the whole time, eyes darkening with each movement.

You moved to his shirt next, fingers finding the buttons one by one. Each one you undid revealed a little more skin—warm beneath your touch, slick where the fabric had clung tight. Your knuckles brushed his chest as you worked lower, and his breath caught, just barely.

When the last button came undone, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His body was lean, solid, damp from the rain—but none of it seemed to bother him. He didn’t say anything, just watched you—eyes dark, mouth parted, chest rising and falling as you skimmed your palms over the planes of his chest, tracing the dip between his collarbones, the slope of his ribs. When your fingers drifted down to the waistband of his trousers, he caught your wrists—not to stop you, but just to still them. To look at you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low, rough at the edges.

You nodded, eyes steady. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

That grin curled again, and he leaned in to kiss you.

It started slow—tentative, exploratory. Then his hands came up, one to your cheek, the other to your waist, and he deepened it, pulling you closer with slow, certain intent.

He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, his mouth warm and sure, and you didn’t realise where he was leading you until the backs of your thighs bumped a low console table. You let him guide you onto it, the wood cool beneath your legs as your dress slid up slightly.

His hands found your waist, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, and when your fingers tangled in his wet hair, he groaned into your mouth, kissing you harder. One hand cradled your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, the other slipped between your legs, dragging your dress up higher.

Then—heat.

His fingers brushed the inside of your thigh, stroking up slowly until they pressed over your underwear. You let out a sharp breath, hips canting forward. His mouth found your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver, and then he was palming you through the thin fabric, fingers firm and teasing.

Your head tipped back against the wall with a soft thud, a quiet, breathy sound leaving your lips.

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough, his mouth hot against your jaw.

You forced your eyes open.

He was already watching you.

And then he slid his fingers under the fabric, just enough to part you, to feel the heat and slick waiting for him. He started slow, stroking between your folds, dragging his fingertips over your clit in soft, maddening circles.

Your thighs trembled, hands fisting in the back of his hair, your breath coming harder now—whimpers you didn’t mean to let out falling freely as he worked you open.

You were close—already. His voice, his mouth, his fingers—

But just when your body began to tighten, when your hips rolled into his touch with desperation, he pulled away.

You gasped. “Austin—”

“Shh,” he murmured, dropping to his knees.

His hands slid up your thighs, slow and reverent, as he tugged your underwear down and off. Then he hooked your legs over his shoulders and leaned in.

The first stroke of his tongue was soft—barely there—but it still made you cry out, your back arching, fingers flying to his hair again. He groaned at the contact, hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you steady as he licked you open, slow and thorough.

He was patient. Methodical. Every flick, every press of his tongue felt intentional—like he was learning you in real time, testing what made you gasp, what made you shudder.

When he focused on your clit, lips wrapping around it with just the right pressure, your head fell back again, legs tightening around him. He moaned against you like he could feel it too, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

Your body was shaking now, breath broken and shallow, and still he didn’t stop—just kept going, kept devouring you like he couldn’t get enough, like this was all he wanted.

Like tasting you was his whole goddamn purpose.

And when your orgasm finally hit—sharp, sudden, flooding every nerve—you didn’t even realise you were crying out his name until your voice cracked around it.

Austin groaned like it was the sound he’d been waiting for all night. He didn’t move at first—just held you there, tongue slow and lazy now, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure from your body until you were trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he eased back. Kissed the inside of your thigh. Let your legs fall gently from his shoulders.

You blinked down at him, flushed and unsteady, as he straightened up. His lips were slick, jaw tense, eyes dark with something deeper than want. His hands settled on your knees, spreading them wider as he stepped between them.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice rough, breath catching on the words.

He didn’t make you say it twice.

His mouth was on yours before you could catch your breath, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. He kissed you like he meant it—slow and deep, hungry but still savouring you. You tugged at his belt as he kissed you, fingers fumbling for the buckle. He let you work it open, then helped you push his trousers and boxers down in one rough motion.

And then he was fully bare before you.

You inhaled sharply, eyes dragging down, taking in the sight of him—cock hard and flushed, curved up against his stomach, impossibly perfect.

You met his gaze again.

“Condom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, leaning just long enough to grab his wallet from the dresser and produce one. You took it from him, tore it open with steady hands, and rolled it on—slow, careful. His hips tilted into your touch, a soft sound escaping his throat.

Austin stepped back in, kissing you again as he reached down, guiding himself to your entrance. He paused, the tip pressing against you, and his eyes searched yours one last time.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice barely more than a breath.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him in. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Then he pushed in—slow, thick, stretching you open inch by inch until you were full to the hilt, your breath catching hard in your throat.

You clung to him, mouth falling open, a broken sound escaping your lips as he bottomed out.

Austin let out a curse against your shoulder. “Fuck… you feel—” He cut himself off, pulled back slightly, and rolled his hips into you again. “So fucking good.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely think. All you could do was hold on as he started to move—slow at first, deep and deliberate, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him.

And god, you did.

Your head fell back against the wall again, your fingers locked in the damp strands at the base of his neck, hips meeting his with greedy little rolls as the rhythm built. Each thrust sent a jolt through you, your whole body thrumming with the aftershocks of your first orgasm and the climb toward another.

“Austin,” you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

He kissed you hard. “I’ve got you.”

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you off the console in one smooth motion. You wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, breath catching again as he carried you across the room—still inside you, every step a slow, careful press that made your head spin.

He paused beside the bed, holding you there with your bodies still pressed close, and looked down at you with something close to reverence.

“This dress,” he murmured, brushing a hand up your side, over the fabric still clinging to your body. “It needs to go.”

You nodded, heart thudding.

He set you down on your feet, your balance unsteady, hands still resting lightly on his chest. You didn’t look away as he reached for the hem of your dress, dragging it up over your hips, your ribs, then over your head, letting it fall to the floor. The air hit your skin—cool against the heat of you—and his gaze swept over your body with something close to awe.

You stood there, bare before him, the soft light painting every line of you.

Then he guided you back onto the bed, eyes never leaving yours, and followed you down. He climbed over you with slow, deliberate weight—mouth finding yours again as he sank back in with a low, desperate sound.

This time, the angle was deeper. He moved slowly, letting you feel it, letting you adjust.

One hand braced beside your head, the other cupping your breast, thumbing your nipple until you whimpered into his mouth. He groaned at the sound, hips pressing deeper, his tongue dragging against yours with an urgency that bordered on reckless.

“You like that?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, breath hitching. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice thick, like it was costing him to keep his control. “Feels so fucking good.”

His thumb circled again, teasing and insistent, until your back arched and your breath turned ragged. He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering closed for half a second before he started to move faster—stronger now, like he couldn’t help it.

You met him thrust for thrust, your body tuned to his, every nerve alight and wanting. Everything he gave you—the slow drag of his hips, the warmth of his body pressed tight to yours, the way he said your name like it meant something—had you slipping closer to the edge.

Austin rocked into you harder, each thrust smooth and purposeful, hips meeting yours with that perfect mix of restraint and urgency. His mouth trailed down your jaw, over your neck, until he found the spot just beneath your ear that made you gasp. He stayed there, sucking gently, his breath ragged now against your pulse.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He was everywhere—his weight, his heat, the sound of his voice breaking in your ear. Your body moved with his like it had always known how.

One hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling with just enough pressure to send a bolt of heat straight through your core.

You cried out, back arching. “Austin—fuck—”

“I know,” he rasped. “I know, baby, you’re close.”

You were. So close it hurt.

His mouth was back on yours, swallowing your moans, his pace relentless now—more erratic, less polished. The edge was close for him too; you could feel it in the way his body tensed above you, the way his rhythm stuttered.

“Look at me,” he said again, voice sharp and pleading this time.

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his.

And came hard.

Your body clamped around him, trembling beneath him, a cry catching in your throat as waves of pleasure surged through you. You barely heard his curse before he followed—hips jerking once, twice, a groan tearing from his chest as he collapsed against you, burying his face in your neck.

The room pulsed with silence after that, broken only by the sound of your breath and the soft thud of your heart against his.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just stayed there, holding himself over you with shaky arms, his chest rising and falling against yours. Then he lifted his head, eyes meeting yours again, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

You reached up and brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He exhaled, a soft, almost disbelieving sound. “That was…”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Austin pressed a kiss to your jaw—soft, lingering—before easing out of you. He moved carefully, like he didn’t want to jar the moment, and rose to his feet. You watched the shift of his body in the low light as he turned away, discarded the condom, and returned a moment later, sliding back under the sheets beside you.

You lay there in silence for a beat, still catching your breath. Then, finally, you shifted to sit up slightly, pulling the sheet with you.

“I should go,” you said quietly. “We’ve both got early starts.”

“Don’t,” he said gently, cutting you off.

You looked over, surprised by the softness in his voice. You expected some cheeky line, maybe an invitation for round two. But it wasn’t that. He wasn’t asking for more sex—though the heat between you still simmered under the surface.

He just didn’t want it to end yet.

And if you were honest with yourself… neither did you.

Austin pulled the covers up around you both, then turned to face you, propped on one elbow. You mirrored him, shifting closer until your knees brushed under the sheets. Your hand drifted to the edge of the duvet, fingers fidgeting slightly—still a little unsteady from everything he’d just done to you.

“This isn’t really my thing,” you said after a moment, voice low. “Sneaking out of premieres with the guy I just interviewed.”

Austin smiled—warm, a little crooked. “Yeah. Me either.”

You raised a brow. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “This kind of thing… the timing never lines up. Or the person isn’t right.”

You hummed, eyes meeting his. “And tonight?”

He reached out, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “The timing still sucks. But the person’s definitely right.”

You smiled despite yourself.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you was soft now, comfortable. His hand lingered where it had tucked your hair, fingers brushing lightly along your jaw before he let it fall.

Then, almost sheepishly, Austin glanced toward the other side of the room. “I haven’t eaten since before the carpet.”

You blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

He nodded, lips tugging into something crooked. “Didn’t have time. Got soaked. Got distracted.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “Still distracted.”

You laughed, the sound quiet in your throat. “You want to order something?”

“If you’re hungry,” he said, but the tilt of his voice gave him away—hopeful, a little too quick. Like he didn’t want you to go. Not yet.

You tilted your head, teasing. “What do you usually get after premieres and impromptu hotel sex?”

Austin grinned. “I usually don’t do either.”

That made you laugh again, and this time it lingered. “Okay, fine. What would you order if you did?”

“Fries,” he said instantly, like he’d been waiting for the question. “And something chocolate.”

“Solid choices.”

“I knew you’d approve.”

You sat up, the sheet slipping slightly down your chest, and reached for the room service menu. The air was cool against your skin, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere. Your legs brushed his beneath the covers as you scanned the options.

Austin shifted beside you, propping himself up, his gaze heavy on your face.

You glanced sideways without looking up from the page. “Are you even reading this?”

“Nope.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

Eventually, the two of you settled on a late-night order that made absolutely no sense—fries, a sandwich neither of you could pronounce, and some kind of molten chocolate cake that Austin insisted was necessary. He called it in, his voice smooth and relaxed on the phone, like this was something the two of you did all the time.

While he ordered, you slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom. You didn’t bother getting dressed—just slipped one of the soft white robes from behind the door around your shoulders, tying it loosely at the waist. You ran a hand through your hair, still a little wild, still damp in places, then caught your own eye in the mirror and shook your head with a quiet, breathless laugh.

When you came back out, Austin was already under the covers again, stretched across the bed like he owned it, one arm behind his head, the other resting lightly over his stomach. His eyes flicked to you the moment you stepped into view.

“That’s a good look,” he said, nodding toward the robe.

You smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

He chuckled and held up the covers, an invitation. You climbed in beside him, and he tucked them back around you like it was instinct.

And for a while, you just talked.

Not about the film, or the junket, or your job. Not even about the fact that you were in a strange hotel bed with someone you’d only just met.

You talked about everything else.

Music. Books. Childhood stories. The way certain songs made you cry on long flights. The dumbest thing he ever did as a teenager. The cities you’d loved. The places you still wanted to go.

Somewhere between the laughter and the promise of shared fries, he told you about the best view he’d ever seen—from the back of a motorbike in Joshua Tree, the desert washed gold at sunset. You told him about a night drive down the coast with the windows down and no shoes on, the smell of salt and petrol and freedom in your lungs.

At some point, his hand found your knee under the blanket—like it had just landed there. But he didn’t move it after.

The food came. You shuffled upright, propping yourselves against the headboard, the tray between you. You shared everything—swapping bites, comparing favourites, arguing over who got the last fry until he fed it to you with a grin. The chocolate cake was rich, dense, and wildly indulgent. You took turns stealing bites off the same spoon.

You didn’t even notice when the heat crept back in—until it was already there.

The way his hand drifted from your knee to your hip.

The way your leg slid over his, the robe falling open slightly without either of you fixing it. The way your fingers grazed his chest, just resting there… then stroking, slower, softer, testing the beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You looked up at the same time.

The question didn’t need asking.

The kiss came next.

Slower, deeper this time. Less urgency. More weight. The kind of kiss that said I liked the first time… but I’m not done learning you yet.

Austin shifted beneath you, one hand sliding to your hip, the other curling around the back of your thigh as he guided you forward. You let him, knees bracketing his hips as you straddled him, the robe slipping from your shoulders and pooling around your waist before you shrugged it off entirely.

He looked up at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You reached for the packet together, your fingers steady now as you tore it open, rolled it on. His hands never left your body.

And this time—god, this time—it was slower. Deeper. Your body moved with his like you already knew how. He sat back against the pillows, letting you take him in at your own pace, his hands roaming your thighs, your back, everywhere he could reach.

It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Drawn-out. Felt. Every rock of your hips, every sound in your throat, the way he watched you like he never wanted the moment to end.

He kissed you through it. Held you steady. Whispered your name like it meant something.

And when you came again—softer this time, clinging to his shoulders, your mouth pressed against his neck—he followed not long after, breath stuttering, his hands gripping you like he didn’t want to let go.

You stayed there like that for a while. His arms loose around your waist, your cheek resting against his shoulder, your breath still shallow. The room had settled into quiet again, the kind that made everything feel suspended—like time had pulled back to give you a moment before it all started moving again.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to press a kiss to his neck, then leaned back slightly to meet his eyes.

Austin cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You okay?”

You nodded, lips tugging into something small and real. “Yeah. You?”

His smile was soft. “Definitely.”

You climbed off his lap with a quiet, reluctant sigh. He disposed of the condom while you pulled the sheet loosely around yourself and flopped back onto the bed with your hair a mess and your skin still warm. He joined you a moment later, lying on his side, facing you again.

Neither of you said anything for a while. The weight of what had just passed had mellowed into something slower, more grounded. You could still feel it in your limbs, in the places he’d touched you, but the urgency had passed.

Eventually, you spoke—your voice softer now, hesitant. “I should probably…”

He didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t,” he said gently.

You glanced over. “Austin…”

“I know,” he said, already reading it in your tone. “I know you’re not staying overnight. Just—don’t go yet.”

You hesitated, then nodded once. “Okay.”

You pulled the sheet tighter around you and lay back beside him. He reached for your hand this time, tangling your fingers together over the blanket. It felt oddly intimate. Strangely natural.

For a few more minutes, you just breathed in the quiet together.

“I’m glad you came,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

You turned your head toward him, brow raised. “To your hotel, or in general?”

He grinned, unabashed. “Both.”

That made you laugh, and the tension eased again.

Time passed without either of you marking it. The food trays still sat abandoned at the foot of the bed, the chocolate cake forgotten halfway through. Somewhere in the suite, a clock ticked. Somewhere outside, the rain had stopped entirely.

You shifted slowly, the sheets rustling as you sat up. Austin didn’t say anything—just watched you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across the space you were just in. His gaze was soft, unreadable in the low light.

It was late now. Not quite morning, but close enough to feel it coming. You had work in a few hours. He had a full day of press.

You gathered your things slowly, slipping back into your dress, your skin still humming from everything that had happened between these walls. He stayed in bed, propped up, the sheet pooling at his hips.

He didn’t try to stop you this time.

You walked to the door and hesitated, hand on the handle, then turned to look back.

“You’ll be gone after the junket?” you asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Early flight the next day.”

You gave a small nod, lips curving faintly. “Well… have a good rest of the trip.”

He held your gaze for a beat. “You too. Take care, alright?”

You didn’t answer. Just stepped back to the bed, leaned in, and kissed him—slow, soft, like a thank you that you didn’t know how else to give.

He kissed you back with the same quiet weight, his hand rising briefly to your hip, grounding you for one last moment.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled. “Bye, Austin.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Then you turned.

And left.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

[ot9snumber1]

rabbit hole

sana minatozaki x reader

summary: sana dislikes—no, hates your idea of love.

warnings: suggestive, angst, fluff, roommate!sana, emetophobia very briefly mentioned, reader is an idiot

notes: inspired by 'rabbit hole' - deco*27! i've been getting into vocaloid recently 🤓

also i wrote this overnight? i've never written so fast before im scared dove what did u do to me (lovingly) (but seriously im finally free from writers block hooray!) (also this means its not proofread sorry)

wc: 4.1k

—

the loud slam of the door jolts sana awake, nearly falling off the couch as she sat up. her heart sinks, thinking that someone had broken in—but when you emerge from the dark hallway, she sighs out of relief.

sana checks the clock, 1:30 am. "you're home late. again." she mumbles, standing up and keeping the blanket wrapped around herself as she stopped you from going up the stairs. you groan, just wanting to take your clothes off and sleep.

"are you drunk?"

"no."

sana doesn't believe you. she steps closer, leaning in to smell your breath. you ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at that. instead of smelling liquor, her nose scrunches at the scent of perfume. it wasn't yours, nor hers, nor from the girl you slept with two days ago.

somehow, that made her feel worse than if you had actually been drunk.

"who was it this time?" she asks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen. sana hates that you struggled to keep up with her. "doesn't matter, i've done better."

she cringes at your words. "you can't just say that." sana mumbles frustratedly, letting go of you to get you a glass of water. her blanket falls by your feet. "what? that i've done better? because i have! this girl was, like,—"

"no! that it doesn't matter!" she whisper–yells, not wanting to wake any nosy neighbors up. sana forces you to hold the glass of water before picking the blanket up off the ground. "you don't even know her name, do you?"

you bite your lip, desperately trying to remember who you were begging to earlier. "uh.."

"you're–so—" sana looks like she wants to kill you. understandably so, but you think she's just being weirdly overprotective. she sighs, shaking her head. "i'm going to bed." is all she mumbles before pushing past you.

you watch as she disappears into your apartment. shrugging, you lean against the doorway and drink your water.

"what's her problem?"

—

"i don't know! i have to snap her out of this or something. it's getting worse every night!" she was watching you from the corner of her eye. it wasn't like she didn't trust nayeon or the people she invited over, she just didn't trust what you'd do in a room full of strangers.

(a room full of nayeon's really attractive friends is how she'd describe it.)

momo puts a hand on sana's arm, her other hand taking her cup. she frowned, worried for her best friend as she grew antsy just talking about you.

"okay, first of all, that's enough drinking for you." momo mumbled, downing the rest of sana's drink despite the angry pout on her face. "second, you need to tell her that this shit's unhealthy."

"i've tried!"

"angrily taking care of her when she comes home isn't confronting her."

sana's pout gets deeper. she hadn't even said anything that would make momo think that... but she knew she couldn't argue with her. that did happen to be what she was doing after all.

"either way, she's either drunk out of her mind or smelling too much like someone else for me to even think of telling her to stop." sana sounds hopeless at this point, leaning against a wall and throwing her head back against it. "i don't think that second thing should stop you from confronting them...?" momo's eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of what sana was saying.

she gasps, "unless—you're jealous?"

sana freezes, attention going to momo. "no? no! that's—i'm not like that—i care about them—" she stammers, trying to deflect what momo just said until her eyes land on you. you were across the room, rolling your eyes at something chaeyoung said.

she looks back at momo, then you, then momo. "maybe i am? that's not the main point, though! what she's doing is totally unhealthy!" sana spews out, her words almost faster than momo could comprehend. (she had years of experience in sana-speak, though. sana could make unintelligible noises and she'd still understand what she was saying.)

"calm down, sha. i'm not saying you're only doing this because you're jealous." momo reassures, but sana could tell she was biting back a laugh. "i'm just saying that it's bugging you more because you care so much about her as a friend and because you've had feelings for her since she moved in."

sana sighs. "you're right. sorry for getting defensive."

momo shrugs, giving her a reassuring smile. "don't apologize. i'll get us some more drinks."

sana watches as momo walks away, trying to shrink into the wall while she was alone. she liked meeting new people but not when she felt unease build up in her stomach.

she should just talk to you, she thinks. if she can hear that you're doing fine right now then her nerves will be completely gone for the rest of the—

"who is that?" sana asks, entire body tensing up when momo comes back with two cups in hand. momo looks to where sana was glaring at and winces.

you were talking to one of nayeon's friend's friend's friend. she was a bit all up in your face for someone you just met.

"chaewon i think was her name? she came here with sakura. sakura's mina's friend and—" momo purses her lips when sana storms her way over to you. she sighs, looking down at the cups she was holding. "more for me."

—

"i can't." you whine as chaewon wrapped her arms around your neck, bringing you even closer. she laughs, throwing her head back. you stare at her neck and lick your lips, wondering how good she'd look when you leave your mark on her. "my roomie's driving me home." you pout, "she doesn't like when i bring girls over."

"tell her you're going home with me, then." she shrugs, retracting an arm to take a sip of her drink. "kkura can catch a ride with someone else, she'll understand." chaewon's offer sounds way too good to turn down, especially when she props the cup against your lips for you to drink.

you accept, eyes locking with hers as you accept the alcohol happily. "how's that sound?"

"perf—"

"excuse me." someone interjects, using all of her strength to separate you and chaewon. you groan, about to shove the intruder away until you realize it was sana. that makes you groan again. "sorry, i have to take this one home." sana says, an arm wrapping around your waist as she stared chaewon down

your eyebrows furrow. "what? no you don't!" you hiss, trying to push sana away from you. she just tightens her grip around you. "i'm going with chaewon."

"no you're not." sana replies through gritted teeth. "sorry about her," she smiles, false sweetness all over her demeanor. "she's like this all the time. she's not what you're looking for."

sana practically drags you away from chaewon and out of the apartment. on your way out, she mouths a 'gotta go!' to nayeon, who takes one look at you and nods understandingly.

needless to say, you're pissed.

you were about to have the night of your life! the best sex you'd had in.. well, a few weeks, you think. your last handful of partners were nothing but time killers. ugh, that made it even worse. why was sana so mad about your sex life anyway?!

you were sulking the entire ride, arms crossed and refusing to even have her in your peripheral vision. sana notices and it drives her crazy.

she quickly pulls over, driving you equally crazy. the tension in that car was thick.

"what is with you?!" sana nearly shrieks, turning to face you. you gasp, finally looking at her. "what is with me? i'm not the one unnecessarily inserting myself in my roommate's sex life!"

"what the fuck are you talking about? i'm trying to protect you!"

"from what, sana? hot girls?"

sana let out a big exhale. you were being so frustrating—more so than usual. if it weren't for the seatbelts and the fact you both care about each other, you probably would've been at each other's throats by now.

"from doing whatever this is!" her words are accompanied by gesturing to you with both of her hands. you still didn't get it. "don't you realize how unhealthy this is?"

you blink, tilting your head in confusion. "unhealthy would be the last word i'd use to describe love, sana."

her eyes widen. "love—?" she leans back in her seat, exasperated. "you've gotta be fucking kidding." sana mumbles, her hands finding their way to the steering wheel. her knuckles go white at how tight she was holding on.

"what?" you were genuinely puzzled at her reaction. "aren't you like, the number one advocate for loving in your own way?"

"this is not love!" her eyes are back on you. you frown, she was genuinely intimidating now. "you are hurting yourself! you're letting these people take advantage of you... i don't know! you wanting to be held?"

you scoff, rolling your eyes and leaning back. "you don't get it. it's not my fault miyeon broke up with your sorry ass." the words leave your mouth before you could even process that you had the guts to think about sana like that. "wait, no—i'm sorry—"

"fuck off." sana mumbles, shifting the car back into drive.

you stay put the rest of the ride, feeling a pit grow deep inside your stomach.

—

sana wasn't home the next morning. you weren't sure if she had plans or work—she'd always tell you beforehand. it made you feel even worse, it took a miracle to get through breakfast without throwing up. the same went for the rest of the day.

by the time the sun set, you were shaking from nerves. you didn't want to face sana when she came home. you didn't want to keep thinking about her and what she said and what you said and what you've been doing.

instead, you get the brilliant idea to respond to your ex's text that you'd left on delivered for three hours.

y/n: pick me up in 10

do not reply: knew you'd come around ;)

you throw up in the toilet before you leave.

—

you don't even make it out of the parking lot of your apartment.

lisa's parked in the furthest corner, too dark for anyone to see inside and too far for anyone to hear how you were panting against her.

you were wedged between lisa and the back of the passenger seat. she pushed her thigh further against your throbbing pussy, biting your lip with a smile. "fuck, couldn't wait to see me, huh?" she hums as she watches you grind down on her thigh desperately.

"you've been thinking about me, haven't you? dressed up so slutty.. you wanted me to fuck you in here, no?" lisa's voice grows raspy as she toyed with the fishnets on your legs.

her words fall on deaf ears. your body was enjoying this, but your mind was far away from the woman sucking on your collarbone. you're not even sure why you chose this stupid bunny outfit sana bought you for april fools.

there it is again, you were thinking about sana. sana sana sana sana. no matter what you did, she was clouding your mind!

"turn around baby, i wanna see what set you're wearing for me." lisa whispers and you obey absentmindedly, still thinking about what sana said to you while she undid the ties holding your corset together.

then it hits you.

sana likes you.

she's jealous that you're sleeping with everyone but her!

you gasp, making lisa peek from behind you. "what's wrong, baby?"

you swat her hands away from your back, turning around. "oh my god. sana's in love with me."

"your roommate?"

you nod. lisa frowns, "what does that—"

"i'm so sorry, i have to go!" you mutter, clumsily opening the door and climbing out of it. lisa's calling after you, frustrated and confused to the max as you ran back to your apartment.

the slamming of the front door makes sana flinch, immediately muting the show she was watching. her head whips to you clumsily running into the living room, kicking your heels off as soon as you saw her.

sana's eyes widen and she's furious again—"what the hell are you wearing?" she stands up, but gets pushed down by you once you make it in front of her. she hates that you look good in that stupid outfit she bought and hates that she can tell your corset was halfway undone.

"doesn't matter—i get what you were trying to tell me yesterday."

"you do?"

sana looks hopeful as you sit next to her, that sweet smile you adored gracing her face.

"yes!" you grin. the way she was smiling at you made you feel like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. "and i'm really sorry for what i said yesterday, that was really shitty of me."

sana shakes her head, "it's okay. you were mad, so was i. i think i could've been nicer but—if it helped you realize it in the end, i guess it's all in the past."

you nod eagerly, barely able to contain your excitement as you lunge forward and kiss her. you sigh, it felt so good to love h—

sana pulls away, hand on your chest to keep you at a distance. "what the fuck?"

your heart sinks. "what? don't you—i thought you liked me?"

sana blinks, looking as shocked as she did yesterday. "of all the things i yelled at you about, that's what you got out of it?"

"isn't that what you were trying to tell me?"

"no, oh my god!"

sana was pacing in front of you now while you were sat and looking up at her like a dumb bunny. (you kind of were one, anyway.)

"i don't want to yell at you again, i'm going to bed."

you watch her leave, snapping out of a trance when she slams the door.

you look back to the tv to see what sana was watching.

the bachelorette, greaaaat. you roll your eyes and change the channel. seeing someone else's messy love life didn't really make you feel better about yours.

huffing, you take your bunny headband off and stare at it down on your lap. what was so hard for you to understand?

—

you were laying face down on nayeon's couch a week later. you'd been ignoring sana, feeling guilty every time you even thought of her. it didn't exactly help that she kept checking up on you anyway.

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: u ok?

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: i won't be home tonight, staying at momo's

sana-ya 💜💜💜💜: lmk if u need anything

"sana texted again." nayeon hums as she sees your phone light up beside her. you'd tossed it out of frustration onto the floor half an hour ago. nayeon was on the floor so she could comb through your hair with a comb she accidentally bought. it was one of those metal tooth ones meant to capture lice.

"you really need to talk to her, y/n."

"i knooooow!" you whine. nayeon was inspecting your hair really well, surprisingly. not that you actually had lice, she was just bored and you were miserable. at least it was relaxing?

"i don't know what to say, though! i've been a complete idiot! what if she hates me?"

"she's been sending you texts every day since you started leeching off me."

you groan. why must sana be the sweetest person ever?

"i'm not leeching off you."

"then go home tonight."

you groan again.

nayeon sits back, putting the comb away and letting you lift your head to face her. "if you're so convinced that she's either jealous or trying to control what you do, why do you care? it's not like you to be this affected by what anyone says."

you shrug, turning around to lay on your back. "i'm trying to figure that out. i'd say it's because she's my roommate but that never stopped me from going behind her back in the past."

"and it's not like i'd give a shit if anyone else told me to fuck off. or push me away if i tried to kiss them."

nayeon raises an eyebrow, "so sana's special?"

"i guess."

she grins. it was nothing she didn't know, she just wanted to hear it from you. "hope you know you've been in love with her for a while now."

you sit up, looking at her like she was crazy. "nayeon. when i say you're crazy i really mean it."

she shakes her head. "no! i'm being serious! think about it, why were you so eager to leave lisa when you thought sana liked you?"

you purse your lips, genuinely thinking about what nayeon was saying.

"and this entire thing of yours started when sana went on a trip abroad with momo! you didn't have access to the most affectionate person in your life for two weeks and you kept whining about how they kept posting each other like they were dating!"

nayeon gets up and sits beside you, rubbing your arm gently. "i didn't say anything at first because god knows you would've told me to fuck off."

"oh, and didn't one of the girls you hooked up with warn you about how bad this was too? what was her name... jihyo? and you wouldn't even listen to her."

"i think i get it, nayeon."

"shhh, no, let me have this. sana's the only person you ever listened to, or at the very least considered changing yourself for. love isn't whatever the hell you're doing to replace the lack of affection in your life—"

"ouch." you grumble, but nayeon just tells you to take it. you do, she was right anyway. "love is how you're acting about sana."

you cringe. "that was the cheesiest thing you could have ever said to me." you mumble as you hug her. "but you're right, i think. thank you."

—

you don't slam the door closed this time, not wanting to give sana a heart attack with how many times you'd done it before.

as you approach her, you take note of the fact she was watching the bachelorette again. maybe the fake messiness of it all was comforting to her.

"sana?" you whisper, taking a seat beside her. she blinks, surprised to see you home at all. apologies die down in your throat. she looked so gentle.

"i thought you were at momo's?"

"nayeon texted me saying that you might need someone to come home to."

you smile, unable to look her in the eyes anymore. "i'm sorry, sana. for everything. i've been really stupid for the past few months."

"more than stupid, but go on."

you chuckle lightly, your body feeling lighter after realizing she really didn't resent you. "i was too stubborn to listen to anyone about it. except you, evidently. you're... really special to me."

"and i'm sorry for kissing you the other night! god, i was really dumb and just jumped at the chance that you might love me too because i really didn't want to consider that you were right about me hurting myself." sana listened intently as you rambled out your apologies. you were really making sure that you apologized for anything and everything—so much had happened and you hated that sana got caught up in it.

"and i shouldn't have talked about your relationship with miyeon like that. i know how hard it was for you and i was just deflecting and being an ass. sorry."

your eyes meet hers again, sad and brimming with tears. you hold in your breath until she crawls over and hugs you tightly. you hug her back just as tight, crying into her cream colored sweater.

"thank you," sana whispers. "i'm glad you've finally come to your senses. i forgive you." you let out the biggest sigh of relief as she rubs your back comfortingly.

"and i think i'm in love with you."

"i know."

you're suddenly pulled into her lap. sana peels your body off of her so she could wipe your tears away and hold your face. "i.. i love you too, but let me think about it first? this whole situation was so..."

"messy?"

"that's not how i'd describe it, but i guess, yeah, it was messy."

you nod, "it's okay, i understand."

the bachelorette was still playing in the background, filling in the silence between you and sana.

"can i watch with you?"

sana nods, letting you snuggle up beside her. it takes a minute for the two of you to adjust, but as soon as you do, she's talking your ear off about what you need to know about the contestants.

you listen, paying more attention to her expressions than what she's saying.

it felt good to have this again.

—

it's been two months since you confessed your love to sana.

you never bugged her about it, but she remembered to tell you that she was still thinking about it every now and then. you didn't really mind, anyway, the two of you were back to being attached at the hip and that was more than enough for you.

"have you seen sana?"

you were back at nayeon's place, celebrating her girlfriend's birthday. nayeon looks around, lips pursed. "over there!" she yells because the two of you were standing right by the big speaker chaeyoung brought. "thanks!" you yell back before making your way across the room to sana.

you weave through the crowd, nearly tripping over yourself three times before you finally land in front of sana...

who was talking to someone else.

you try not to be jealous, but it was incredibly hard when the girl she was talking to was visibly falling for her!

you didn't want to look overly possessive, especially because the two of you weren't officially dating. you start walking away, but sana catches you in the corner of her eye.

"y/n!" she calls out, her voice as bubbly as ever. you freeze for a moment but turn back to her and walk over with a tight smile. "hi, sana. hi.." you turn to the girl she was talking to, observing her.

"soyeon."

you give her a polite smile before turning back to your roommate. "did you need anything?" she asks, noticing that you've been trying to talk to her the entire time you've been here. "no... just... wanted to see you...?"

they both stare at you for a bit, soyeon extremely confused while sana blushes and giggles. you want the ground to swallow you whole—what kind of an excuse was that?!

"you're adorable, you know?"

you laugh awkwardly and decide to walk away after that. you didn't know how to act knowing other people were interested in your sana.

unluckily for you, she was being talked to all night long. one person after the other, always being stopped when you could see she was trying to make her way to you.

it pissed you off.

you weren't sure what else to do, though, so you just sat on nayeon's couch and sulked for the rest of the night.

—

sana was humming along to the song playing in the car, making sure to take the long route back home.

"can't last a night without being my center of attention, huh?" she teases, looking over to you while stopped at a red light. you blush, thankful for the red light. (sana's smile made you realize she knew you were blushing anyway.)

"you make me sound terrible." you huff, lips forming a pout. sana chuckles, "i think it's cute."

"wanna go out tomorrow?" she asks, humming as her eyes focus back to the road. you turn to look at her, partly confused and partly because you just wanted to stare at her pretty face. "are you asking me out?"

"duh."

"but i thought you needed time to think about it...?"

"if you don't want to go out with me, i have soyeon's number, just so you know."

you whine, hitting her arm lightly. "kidding, kidding." she laughs. "it's been two months, n/n. i'm sure i've had a thought since then."

you roll your eyes, you hated how much she loved to mess with you sometimes. "yeah, whatever. i expect to be pampered and be the center of your attention tomorrow." you tease, relaxing back into your seat.

"of course, your majesty."

she stops at another red light, quickly leaning over to kiss you. "only if you do the same for me on the next date, deal?"

you stare at her, completely flustered while she tucks your hair behind your ear. she's so irritating, you love her so bad.

you kiss her again, "deal."

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Sylus)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Sylus. The reason is because he is a red flag. As red as his eyes. Spawn of the devil. Unless, he is actually not as evil as you label him to be. Does this change something in you? Yes? No? Maybe so?

Note: Japanese dub, English sub

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

Masterlist Self Aware AU

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

|  1  |  2 [current] |  3  |  4  |  5  |

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

The recent update probably had been messing with the game. Yours especially.

(What's the point of sneaking around to only touch it? Come here. Take my hand.)

(Fine. I'll be the one to hold your hand out in the open. Better?)

You shook your head.

Every time you tap his hand, either, that prompt hasn't failed a single time to appear.

If you tap somewhere else, he'll just not move. Or talk. No dialogue without voice either.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Ever since you showed up, you've given me headaches. Maybe I shouldn't have gone through with the Main Story after all."

He gave a coy smirk without you noticing.

"Whatever. Nothing else changes so I guess it's not that bad. Gotta get ready to work."

+-------------------------+--------------------------+

*Pop*

Your stretched successfully relocated stiff bones and muscle from their rigidness after sitting the whole morning until after lunch break. Data entry was easy, unless, the data played hide and seek with you. Customer service was not your forte but you wing it somehow.

"Heuh... Glad I pushed through over lunch. I'm free all day starting now."

Working remotely has its perks. You can save more expenses by cooking. No transportation fee and so on. The only downside you could think of was, your social life. How awkward you've become with real interaction except for people you know. But that doesn't mean you're timid about it. Life goes on.

"Right. How about I use Quality Time when I cook? The Weekly Plan isn't complete yet."

Blinking, your eyes met red gems.

"Fancy meeting you. I think you've conquered my cafe far more frequently now."

"The lights here are just too bright."

You looked at him, unimpressed.

"Nocturnal creatures sleep during the day. Not sauntered into a cafe looking ready to have a nice walk under the sun."

He somehow gave a cheeky smile at you. Then asking you if you could let him continue checking in on the auction.

"Be my guess." You tapped 'Yes'.

The screen flashes. He sat down while scrolling on his phone to watch supposedly an auction. Not that you could see it.

You propped your phone, letting him accompany you while you're in the kitchen nonetheless.

Somehow you feel bad about forcing him to have a Quality Time with you after he said that. But you kinda want a company too.

You prepared your charger port in the case your phone alerted you on low battery. Eyes briefly glanced to your phone.

His eyes stared at you then they turned back to the phone less in milliseconds.

You shook your head, "Must've have imagine it."

+---------------------------+-----------------------+

"Have you seen the one with the rocking chair?"

"My eyes are clean, thank you. Spare me from that."

"Pleaaaaaaseeee... Just stay in the room with me. Hold me down if I look like I'm about to throw my phone away. I don't trust myself."

You sighed, "Someone save me."

+--------------------------+------------------------+

"Aaaak! Why did you do that?"

Your friend smirked as the Wish Pool animation began it ten pulls.

"You've been staring at it for a long long long-"

"Quit it!"

"And it's your finger who did it. Not mine."

You pinched both of her cheeks, "YOUR FINGER force MY FINGER-"

*Tring*

The golden light shone on your phone.

You both turned to it.

"Can't be him. Can't be him. Can't be him."

You chanted as you hold your phone close to you.

"If he did appear in JUST TEN PULLS then you have my blessing with Crow Crow." Your friend caress her aching cheeks while smiling cheekily.

"I'm not going to accompany you watching Snowy later."

"oOh come on...."

Her complained was drowned out as your focus changed to your current predicament.

One. Two. Three taps. You exhaled.

Four. Five. Six taps. You exhaled.

Seven eight nine ten!

Red. Black feathers. Your breathed stalled.

White hair. Half naked. Head down. Red gems looking at you mischieviously.

Silent. Rustling.

"Oh, wow. It really is Crow Crow."

You pulled her cheeks again.

+---------------------------+------------------------+

"Why didn't she watch the new memory?"

Long finger tapped the table. He smiled.

"Playing a little game of cat and mouse, I see."

+--------------------------+------------------------+

You groaned, "Did you see this guy? Am I a sack of potatoes this time?"

"Yours? Did you see mine? WHY ARE WE ROCKING AGAIN?" She blushed.

You patted her back in sympathy.

+------------------------------+---------------------+

"Ready? One two..." *Tapp*

"How many times?"

"The 8th time. I hope he comes this time even with the rocking-theme still there."

You patted your friend's back.

"You?"

"Third and probably my last-"

*Tring*

Both heads looked at their respective phones. Both had the golden sparks.

Two pairs of eyes looking at each other. Disbelief. Nervous.

They looked back at their phone and started looking through.

A gasp. Snowflakes. Your friend's mushy face as she buried her phone in her chest.

"Careful." You took it away from her before she destroyed it with her love-death hug.

"AH! LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!" She pointed at your phone.

Feathers scattered. Your breath hitched. There he was, carrying MC, with that smug face of his.

You raked your hair, "Wow. I was just... testing it out."

Your friend nudged you, "Crow Crow flies straight to your heart, huh?"

Cheeks being pulled.

+-----------------------------+-----------------------+

You let it play out this time.

You were too shy to watch the previous one in-game so you just let it marinate there. Besides, you've already watched it from fan's sharing.

Currently, you were getting a simple dinner ready as you glanced at your phone once in a while. Bluetooth headphones were on.

You've watched it with your friend on another platform. Both of you watched all of the character's new banner. You can't help it but wanting to know how this one played out.

Every scene looks fine.

You particularly like that one scene. Hearing it alone was enough. You rather not have a repeat of redden ears when you watch it previously. Almost being caught by your friend.

"Shavanika." You stopped on your track.

Ears warm. You chance a glance as he said it for the last time.

His face was close to the screen. You knew that. What you just realised was that it stopped there for a long time.

Confused, you approached your phone, noticing the Auto icon was off. You tapped it back.

"How did that happen?"

"You're finally in front of me, kitten."

You stared as you heard an unfamiliar dialogue coming from him. He patted MC's head and walked backwards.

The animation continues playing. Your eyes never leaving it. Your body and attention was locked until it was over.

Hand move up like a robot. You played that part again. The dialogue was back to normal. Finger steadily tapping the back button until you saw him looking at you in the cafe.

His slender finger tapping his temple. Face at an angle as he smiled at you cheekily.

You tapped his head.

"Next time you do a sneak attack, give me a heads up. I'll remember to lean down and cooporate."

You finally let out you breathe.

"I've heard that one before."

"Oh, but have you heard of THIS one, sweetie?"

You moved backwards in alarm. Your focus never wavers from the red gems looking at you beyond the screen.

A hum.

You stilled instinctly.

"Good fight mode but it was just me, kitten."

He's watching you as much as you're watching him

"Not to be alarmed but I hope you don't mind me barging in. Unintentionally."

*CRASH*

Your breath ragged. Your mind reeling. Your phone...

Decorated the floor after hugging the wall nearby.

It happened too fast. You didn't even know how you moved instantly to grab the phone and throw it away.

"What in the actual fantasy I've been smoking?"

You crumbled to the floor, trying to calm yourself down.

+-------------------------+-------------------------+

Chuckling.

"She'll make a good pitcher with that throw."

He dialled a number.

"Send her a new phone. The game included."

The sunlight shone through the blinds. He squinted a little before feeling the slight breeze.

"Let the game begin."

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

| 1 | 2 [current] | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

Masterlist Self Aware AU

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

[erimeows]

TFA Characters' Toxic Traits

Me with another TFA headcanon set? Who would've guessed. Got the inspiration for this one after realizing I'd done it with MysMes but not with Transformers. Enjoy!

Optimus Prime: Shoulders every single burden all by himself. Will not ask for help and open up to others when needed, even though not doing so ends up negatively impacting everyone more in the end than asking for help would've.

Bumblebee: Toxic positivity- enough said. You vent to him and he's like "oh but you have so much to be happy about!".

Bulkhead: Will not take sides in any conflict of his own accord even if he knows that one side is "right" if he fears it will upset any of his friends. Passively steps out of conflicts even when he's needed, unless it's an absolute emergency.

Ratchet: Refuses to open up about trauma that he has even though it affects the way he acts and negatively impacts the people around him, who are very confused as to why he acts the way he does.

Prowl: Has an ungodly superiority complex, tends to think he's better or smarter than others (even when he's not), though he's trying to work on that.

Sentinel Prime: I think we saw in the show, but he's very prideful and will never admit that he's wrong in any situation. Also terrible at offering genuine apologies- more of a sarcastic "I'm sorry you feel that way" than a genuine "I'm sorry I did (x)" kind of guy.

Jazz: Gets uncomfortable when things get too serious to the point that if people try to open up to him about something deep, he will change the subject or deflect them 90% of the time.

Ultra Magnus: Too by the book. Will do things that he doesn't believe in or ignore wrong doings for the sake of legality.

Megatron: Very selfish and very charming, which is a bad combo. Similar to Starscream, he will be nice to your face if needed and then screw you over in the end as long as it benefits him.

Starscream: So many, but the worst one is lying to people's face and then talking shit behind their backs or doing them wrong for his own benefit.

Blitzwing: Depends on which of the three personalities you're dealing with because they all have some pretty over the top toxic traits, but the worst and most prevalent one is that all three of them tend to belittle others to feel better about themselves- especially if their life is going bad or if they're feeling insecure about something in particular.

Lugnut: The Megatron obsession, obviously. It gets to the point that anyone and anything else in his life that should be prioritized get(s) pushed to the side for Megatron's sake when Megatron doesn't value him nearly as much.

Blackarachnia: Very vengeful and obsessive about getting revenge to the point that it's unhealthy. Obviously this is seen in her TFA episodes where she wants revenge on Optimus/Sentinel for what happened when they were in school- but those emotions are over a huge tragedy that happened in her life and are almost understandable. This toxic trait also applies to, say, someone who accidentally shoulder checked her or took her lunch from the staff fridge. If you wrong her in the slightest, she will make sure she has revenge, even if it was a genuine mistake.

Lockdown: Can't handle commitment. He's not scared of it, just not emotionally mature enough. Whether it be a job, a friendship, a romantic relationship, or whatever else, he won't commit. He doesn't care whose feelings it hurts or if he's passing up on something genuinely good for himself either.

Swindle: Also can't handle commitment, but I'd argue that his worst toxic trait is actually his concern for money. He's terrified of being broke to the point that it consumes his every waking minute. Sure, he enjoys the swindling, but if he misses out on money he panics and he will go to ridiculous lengths to get a good deal or to rip someone off.

[honeyawa]

cherry kisses and bites +

( featuring ) gojo satoru.

"shoko, oh my god- shoko!"

you're panicking. your fingers are tapping on the table repetitively. your heart is going on a marathon. you're pacing around your room, waiting for shoko to pick up the phone after 5 continuous calls. the time reads 10:13 pm on a saturday night, which makes you wonder: what could she be doing that is so important over her best friend's possible death?

left to your own devices and the incessant notifications from your phone, notifying that both gojo satoru and geto suguru have messaged you, with the occasional calls that you stared at until they were gone.

it was safe to say your life took the "god gave the toughest fights to his strongest soldiers" a bit too hard after all this fiasco.

i mean, what led you to not check on who you were texting before sending an impressive amount of messages all about your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo)? the information being handled was of high value! all for it to be wasted in less than 3 minutes because you actually texted your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo) instead of your best friend, and now he knows that you like him!

with your phone across the room because you couldn't trust yourself not to peek at the hundreds of messages waiting to be read, all you could do was wait impatiently until shoko picks up. which turns out to be one of the hardest things you've done to the point where you wouldn't be surprised if you turned into a madman at the end of the night—

"confessing on text is crazy, but hey at least you got the job done, right?"

ah, she picked up.

"if you don't see me tomorrow," you pause, considering using all your money and buying plane tickets to travel across the country because you aren't a confrontational person, at all. "just know that i'm dead and i'm gone or i left the country."

"no you won't. plus, you don't even know if he likes you back or not because i know you haven't checked the messages."

"i don't need to know. i'm not—" you cut yourself off after processing what she first said when she picked up. "wait… how do you even know what happened?!"

"we will cross the bridge when we come to it," she responds, though not really responding to the question because she's avoiding it. "nuh uh! tell me how you know!" she's hiding something from you, and you know it. luckily, it doesn't take that long for you to connect the dots together. "were you on a call with them?"

she stays quiet.

aha! talk about accuracy. shoko never stays quiet unless she was found out. you couldn't believe it. your best friend, the one supposed to be with you through the highs and lows, through the thick and thin, was being friendly to the now turned enemy while you were on a crisis?!

"shoko…" cue a sniffle from you, "how could you do this to me?" (okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but they don't call you the drama queen for nothing!) you could tell she was starting to get annoyed by that sigh she just let out. it was just a matter of time until she snaps on the low key and gives you an order.

and that moment starts in 3…

2..

1..

"just shut the fuck up and check the messages from him." a beep comes shortly after.

.

..

…

oh, okay.

you're being fed straight to the sharks (or shark in your case). okay. wow. you just can't believe this. was she hoping for your downfall that much? ouch. with no one else left to be your emotional support, you have to give yourself courage to finally check what he sent you.

you take a huge gulp, and with shaky fingers, you slowly press on your texts.

unexpectedly, it felt like a giant rock was lifted off your back. the first messages you read didn't contain any "i'm sorry but i don't feel the same way" "you're like a sister to me" "i want to focus on myself" "i only see you as a friend" etc. it did, however, contain many variations of "OPICK UP THE PHONE" "i know you see this." "Text Me Back." texts.

one that did manage to catch your eye was the "watch out. i'm coming to your house right now." wait, he's not actually coming to your house right? (he most definitely is.)

you think your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets.

the feeling of relief that just came by? vanished. crushed. obliterated. annihilated. it feels like everything is back to step one, fuck. what could be better than calling your dear friend shoko once more and start ranting again? nothing. so you went ahead and just did that.

"the person you tried to reach is not available, your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system."

you think you might just cry.

to make matters worse, at that very moment, someone rang your doorbell. finger crossed and chanting "it's not satoru" over and over again, you clench your eyes and hope that it is indeed not gojo satoru.

but life seemed to have something against you, as you hear a very familiar voice talking to your mom, the voice of the one person you didn't want to see right now.

who is it? well, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks, it appears to be gojo satoru! (is the world revolving around him now?)

oblivious to the quiet footsteps marching up the stairs, you mull about where to hide. maybe under your bed? no, that's too freaking obvious, plus you don't know if you would still fit after all those years. the closet seemed to be a fine choice until you realize that's the second most obvious place to hide too.

deep into thinking, you seem to have forgotten that the enemy is quite literally in your house, and in front of your bedroom door no less.

baam! your door swings open with enough force to send you flying and landing on your ass.

"why didn't you say anything!?" alright! straight to the point! and by shouting too!

"what the fuck do you mean?!" you shout back, matching his tone and everything in between, which is laced with confusion because you weren't really the one to catch things from the get-go.

"i mean," he starts and pauses, you notice that his chest is rising and falling at a quick pace. he must've ran here. (deep breaths gojo.) "why didn't you tell me that you liked me back for 4 whole years?"

"maybe because i didn't want to get rejected and throw away what we had?"

"well, why did you think you were going to get rejected?" he questioned. it seemed like he was implying that he does like you and this is not just a one-sided romance, seemed like..

but, did he say it outright? no. thus why you're still assuming he doesn't like you. you're no delusional bitch.

"um, maybe, just maybe, because you don't like me?" (you really got the dragging effect on the second maybe, it was perfect, from duration to pronunciation too.)

okay. why is he blankly looking at you now? as if you said the most out-of-pocket thing ever. why does it seem like everyone is judging you all of a sudden?!

"wait so, you mean, you still haven't gotten the hint yet?"

"does i look like a pirate on a treasure hunt for you to be talking about hints? might as well give me that uma costume and a map too." your arms are crossed, you're leaning to the left, and your right foot is repetitively tapping against the floor.

(gojo had a laughing fit when you did that.)

"sorry queen, i take that back." after every word, he giggles like a newborn when they see you embarrassing yourself in front of them. "what i meant to say was, i do like you back!"

"nuh uh."

"the fuck you mean 'nuh uh'?"

"wheres the camera at? i need to make sure i was photogenic during the whole video!"

"there is no camera. im hurt you think i would do something like this to you" his hands are covering the area where his heart was unless it decided to travel and go to his eyelids just for him to randomly feel the pulse at a place it shouldn't be.

"oh!" okay wait, so he did like you... you feel like everything is a fever dream right now, or that you're about to faint. you can't tell the difference.

"can i kiss you? you look so cute right now." hes currently squishing and pulling your cheeks so you can't say things properly. what you can do though, is bite (or try to) his hand the next time he goes in for an attack. ow!

"eat a cherry before."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝒩 𝑜 𝓉 𝑒 𝓈 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

gojo, did infact, eat a cherry

“its too early!!” yall known eachother since the womb and acted like a couple for 4 years. it speaks enough.

if you havent noticed by now, you are oblivious. so very much so it make sashisu want to throw you on a train track and watch you get ran over (affectionately)

you were actually studying for an upcoming exam until you decided to take a little 1 hour break! (it was originally a 15 minute break but tiktok flirted with you saur..)

your mother was actually leaving when gojo came so she wasnt there with experience all the shouting

you think she wouldve thought you guys broke up (you were never together) and wouldve bought you anything you wanted + ice cream

getos messages are still left unread. (next time you see him your gonna catch it on SITE)

[vixstarria]

Another gift

This is a continuation of my headcanon of Astarion’s romance with bard Tav. I can’t remember the actual chronology of cutscenes, but let’s assume this takes place after you’ve started a sexual relationship with Astarion and are beginning to grow closer. I was going to take it in a different direction initially, but these things have a mind of their own once they get going. 

If you like it, check out my first fic. I do plan on writing more! 

P.S. I may have taken some liberties with the game background story and DnD lore and magic system here – if it doesn’t really match up or make sense – sorry! Also I’m still only on Act 2. 

Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, humour, angst, banter, no spoilers, non-explicit 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

 

Astarion was standing outside his tent with his back to the camp, staring into a silver mirror. The man had either lost his vampiric condition, lost his mind, or was simply brooding.  

“Looking at something?” he asked absent-mindedly, as you approached. 

Brooding. Definitely brooding.  

“Looking for something.” 

“Oh?” He turned towards you. “Just my company, or is there something else I can offer you?” 

“I'm the one making an offering, actually. I thought I’d bring you a little snack” 

Astarion grinned and beckoned you inside his tent.  

Inside, aside from his bedroll, was a trunk with a large mirror opposite, a lit lantern and a scattering of weapons, equipment and books. You assumed your usual position, cross-legged on the bedroll, and offered him your wrist. This didn’t take long. Just a little pick me up.  

He finished, planting a light kiss on your wrist, reached for his amulet and whispered an incantation to heal the wound. He kept hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

“Do you have any idea how much I appreciate that you don’t sexualise this?”  

“I haven’t thought about it... Really?” 

“Well imagine that any time you went to, say, take a bite of a turkey leg, there was someone staring, groping themselves and wagging their tongue at you. When you’re just trying to perform basic functions to stay alive.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s an average evening at the pub for me, when I perform. With or without me biting on anything. ...But I see what you mean”. You contemplated what he just said in a brief silence. “I can't believe you just compared me to a turkey leg.” 

“You’re more of a ripe, juicy peach” he said. You found yourself oddly pleased to be compared to fruit rather than poultry. 

You glanced at the large mirror standing on the floor of the tent.  

“You own an awful lot of mirrors for a vampire. Why do you even keep this here?” 

“That? Oh, it reflects light... makes the tent appear more spacious... prevents anyone from sneaking up on me. ...Unless they’re another vampire.” Astarion said contemplatively. “And I figured, I woke up once with a tadpole in my brain that let me walk in the sun again – who's to say I won’t catch another parasite tomorrow that might cure my vampirism entirely?” 

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?” 

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost. I wouldn’t even recognise myself anymore. It’s been two hundred years.” 

“But...” you fumbled, trying to wrap your mind around that. “You could have found a street artist to sketch you since then.” 

“In the middle of the night?” 

“Or commissioned a portraitist, those artistic types would accommodate you any time of day or night” 

“Commissioned a - …I’m sorry, at what point did I give you the impression that Cazador paid us an allowance..?” Astarion was growing agitated. “And before you say I could have stolen – remember, everything I had, anything I acquired by any means, the clothes on my back, my body, my will – it all belonged to the master.” He paused, regaining control of his demeanour. “There was no point in having any possessions, it would all be the bastard’s in the end. I didn’t want to give him any more than I absolutely had to.” 

You kicked yourself in the ass mentally.  

“Well how’s this... We get to Baldur’s Gale. We exterminate Cazador and take over his palace. Then we rip out whatever he’s got as décor, commission all the best artists, and hang paintings of you on every wall. There will be nothing but portraits of Astarion everywhere.” Astarion’s eyes softened as he watched you gesticulating and getting carried away by your own imagination. “Astarion in shining armour. Astarion on a horse. Astarion on silk bedsheets, half-covered in rose petals. Pirate Astarion. Astarion stroking a cat. Historic events, but every single person depicted is Astarion. Oh! And in the main banquet hall, there will be an enormous mural of you, fully naked, lounging on a divan and being fed grapes by a cadre of nymphs.” 

“With a fig leaf covering my unmentionables?” 

“A comically large fig leaf. Or better yet, no fig leaf, just your full unmentionable glory looming over the dining table” You paused, as if sobering up after being lost in your grand vision, and added in a more serious tone: “We can commission busts and statues, too. Get a mold of your face for a hyper-realistic one.” 

“We” he whispered, as if to himself, with a scornful chuckle.  

“Oh? Do you have someone else in Baldur’s Gate you’d rather spend time with?” You realised how callous that might have come across as soon as the words were out, and cringed inwardly. 

“...No, I don’t” he said absently. 

“Elves live long lives... Do you still have real family there? Friends from... before? ...A spouse? Children?” You'd wondered about this before, and figured you may as well lie in the hole you’d dug for yourself.  

“Gods, no!” Astarion blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t even considered a full adult by elven society then. No, mercifully I didn’t leave any little Astarions behind. All my friends from my youth are either dead or have blissfully forgotten me. And I don’t even know where my family is.” 

You gave him a sympathetic and questioning look, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and continued. 

“As you might expect, Cazador placed a restriction on me, preventing me from telling anyone about my affliction. I couldn’t approach my old acquaintances and go ‘Surprise! I’m actually alive! ...Sort of. I’m just someone’s vampire spawn slave now!’. No. I was to turn around and walk the other way if I ever came upon anyone who might recognise me. I was supposed to be devoted only to my new ‘family’.” he scowled. “I feared that Cazador would use anyone he thought might be important to me against me - for fun, or to teach me a ‘lesson’. And he would have, too: the mental torture he unleashed on his spawn was far worse than physical.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t go and see my family, but as soon as I had my wits about me, I managed to arrange for one of the mercenary guilds to quickly escort my relatives out of the city. They were to be told that I made some powerful enemies who had me murdered, and that these enemies would come for them next. That they had to leave, change their names, and never return. I don’t know where they went. I can’t know, if I want them to be safe.” He looked away. “I can’t imagine how much they hated and cursed me. I ruined their lives.” he whispered. 

“You saved them!” you objected, taking his hand. He shrugged but squeezed your hand back. 

“I suppose I might have. Cazador would’ve left their heads on spikes in my crypt by now, otherwise.” He met your eyes again. “So yes, if anyone is going to be helping me decorate a palace, it’s you.” he added with a false cheer, clearly finished with the topic of Cazador.  

You thought he might want to be alone then and were about to leave, but he gently pulled you towards himself. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a trunk. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest, his lips right at your ear, one arm across your shoulders and chest, the other playing with your hair. The large mirror was on the ground right in front of you. He studied your reflection over your shoulder. You appeared to be lounging suspended at an odd angle.  

“How does it even work, anyway... It’s not just your body that disappears, it’s your clothing, too”. You grabbed a hat from the top of the trunk, holding it by its crown, and held it over Astarion’s head, moving it in circles against his hair. “Now you see it...” You let go and watched it disappear in the reflection. “Now you don’t.” 

“I’m actually not sure, darling. Maybe it needs to be supported solely by me. Or it’s got to do with movement” He threw the hat back onto the trunk, where it reappeared in the reflection. 

“Say...” threw your head back to look up into his eyes “Do you think my reflection would disappear... if a part of you was inside?” you bit your lip and grinned mischievously.  

“I don’t think so, but I love how that dirty mind of yours works” he purred in your ear. “Let’s check and find out” His hand slid towards the clasp of your pants, but you swatted it away. 

“Later.” Suddenly you were on a mission. “I have an idea.” 

The rest of your group were gathered around the fire as you made a dash for your tent and grabbed your kit of stage paints and powders.

“Chk, are you doing each other’s makeup in there?” came a scoff from Lae’zel, as you rushed past. 

“Don’t be jealous, Lae. We’ll have a girls night and braid each other’s hair tomorrow” you retorted, making Shadowheart choke on her drink.  

Back in Astarion’s tent, you reached for one of your loose facial powders. 

“You really don’t need to do anything, I’m used to it and nothing will work anyway” protested a confused and weary Astarion. 

“Astarion!” you said gravely, “This isn’t for you. This is for science”, and you blew the powder hard into his face. Sure enough, an outline of his features appeared briefly in the mirror, as the powder flew all around him. “It worked!” 

“Fan-tastic! Too bad you had to blind me to achieve that split second of a silhouette!” he coughed and rubbed at his eyes. 

“It should work with water, too, if you want me to pour some over your head. You need to wash all that powder off anyway, you look ridiculous.”  

He glared at you through the still flying powder particles and pointed a finger at your face.  

“No.” 

“Actually, hang on, I have a better idea.” You heard him groan into his hands behind you, as you ran back to your tent, to return with an amulet.  

“So, the good news is, I am really, really bad at this.” 

“If this involves setting me on fire again...” 

“That was an accident. Anyway... No, this lets me create a fog cloud. Or so it should. I can just barely manage some fog tendrils. Now if I just aim them at your face...” You concentrated on the spell. Whisps of fog appeared around Astarion. “Look...” As the fog tendrils twisted in the air, you could just make out a form that they floated around, in the reflection, one unmistakably of a face.  

“Well...” breathed Astarion, transfixed by the reflection, trying to make motions with his head to make the fog recoil. “It’s not much, but it’s more than I’ve seen in centuries” 

“Come on” you grasped his hand. “Let’s go outside, it needs a different light and a slight breeze” 

Astarion snatched his handheld mirror and followed you. He was actually eager.  

Outside, Astarion spun in the whispy fog, gazing at the mirror in disbelief, as you continued to concentrate on the spell. It was actually working. Your conjuration magic was just bad enough to make the thinnest layer of fog, framing his face like a delicate mask and reflecting in the mirror. What would have been considered incredibly precise work by a wizard, was made possible entirely thanks to you borderline failing.  

“That’s better... I’ll channel the fog right, you turn left against it. No, your other left! No, don’t go into the fire, you idiot, it won’t be my fault this time” 

You grabbed Astarion by the hand and tried to guide him away from fire and anything he could trip over – he was paying exactly zero mind to anything around him, as he semi-stumbled in circles, looking in the mirror. Scratch ran around you, barking, excited for a new game, and eventually tripped you both. 

“Another gift...” Astarion smiled at you, as Scratch did his utmost to lick his face.  

Meanwhile, the group watched the two of you from a distance, dumbfounded. Lae'zel broke the silence: 

“Your people have the strangest mating rituals.”  

“Should I... should I tell them I can probably just cast mirror image on him? I’ve only done it on myself, but it should follow the same principle” added Gale. 

“Maybe tomorrow” said Shadowheart. “Just let them enjoy this tonight.” 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Mortality: Chapter Three, Date Night

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[Two] [Three] [Four]

[Warnings: Sexual topics(not much)]

[Filler chapter, doesn’t truly affect the storyline]

That night I ended up going home with Charlie, he drank a little too much to drive and I didn't want something happening to him. He was half asleep the drive home so I was glad when I made that decision. I got him to lay down on the couch and that's where he fell asleep.

After everything I fell asleep in my room. I knew if I stayed up I would have to deal with things I didn't want to. I took advantage of being a Hybrid. Sleeping away my problems was always my answer as a human and now I can do it again.

Very grateful for it too after I woke up to Alice and Jasper in my room going through my laptop. I sigh loudly, earning their attention. "You're awake." Alice announces, coming over to me and peppering kisses on my face. "Yeah, what's going on?" I ask, my eyebrows scrunched. "We got here early. Had nothing to do so we were just checking emails." Jasper tells me.

I raise a brow but honestly I don't care enough right now. I lay my head back down on my pillow. Alice straddling my waist, hugging my torso tightly.

I rub her back gently, going back and forth.

"Has the married couple said anything to either of you? Or anyone else?" I ask them, Jasper chuckles, shaking his head. "They are enjoying that honeymoon." He says, coming over and joining us on my bed.

I smile awkwardly, now just overly worried about my sister. Dying from vampire dick? What a way to go, but hopefully not the way Bella has to go out. Ugh.

I shiver in disgust at the thought.

"Rosalie and Emmett invited us to a double date." Alice suddenly says, Jasper and I look at her as she sits up, still straddling me. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I said we'd be there, it's later tonight." She tells us, I look back over to Jasper who has the same expression. Not very surprised but a little disappointed as it's our first night alone since having to plan the wedding and get everything done for that.

"It's as if we don't see them all the time." I joke, well kinda.

"It'll be nice, a relaxing night out."

"Where are we supposed to go out on a date? Four Vampires and Hybrid. You guys can't eat. We can't play a sport we will literally destroy whatever we play with unless it's baseball." I remind her, crossing my arms. "And I'm sorry but I genuinely do not want to play that." I tell her earnestly.

"You'll see." She gives me a smile that she normally does and here I am actually wishing that Edward was here so I could read her mind.

I also realized that my eye changing color thing wasn't brought up which if that means I have to go on a date for that to still not be a conversation. I will take it. She lays back down, her chest against mine. Jasper laid his head on my arm that he pulled out. I was like their heating pad or something.

I didn't mind it though.

"Swim wear?" I ask, stretching out my arms, checking myself out in the mirror. I was put into a one piece swimsuit with shorts over the top. Its not summer time though so I did not expect this. "Isn't it so cute. We match!" Alice gleams, showing off her bikini and then moving to show Jasper's swim trunks. We were all in black. Somehow all the same exact shade too.

I smile, nodding my head. "We look attractive." I tell her, then go back to looking in the mirror, flexing my arms. "When do we leave?" I ask her, still checking myself out. Noticing certain muscles pop out more with the bathing suit on. "Now actually, let's go." Alice takes both mine and Jasper's hand. It was already dark, it being 11 pm. I wonder if we're just going to the beach.

I purse my lips out trying to guess what we're going to do. We get into Jasper's new car, it being a convertible. I sit in the back, sprawling out dramatically. I notice him glance back to me, shaking his head with a small smile.

"Took you guys long enough!" I hear a voice shout behind us as we get our few things out of the car. We all look back to see Emmett with his arm around Rosalie. Both wearing swimsuits as well. Rosalie wearing a red bikini and Emmett wearing white swim trunks with red kiss marks all over it.

"We're not even late, it's thirty minutes before we said we'd come here!" Alice yells back to the buff vampire who just laughs in response. The couple hurrying over to us. "That's late." He rolls his eyes playfully but it bothers my girlfriend nonetheless.

"All right, all right, let's go have this stupid date." Rosalie attempts to hide her smile, dragging Alice by the arm. All of us following behind them. "What are we doing tonight?" I furrow my eyebrows as we go onto the sand.

"Didn't your lovers tell you, Hybie?" Emmett asks, nudging me. He watched as I didn't flinch. He does it often to see if my strength falters at all. Also with calling me Hybie ever since I turned into my wolf form in front of him. He knew I was a Hybrid, I mean obviously.

"No, obviously not bird brain." I nudge him back but purposefully a little hard causing him to stumble. "No need for the hostility." He puts his hands up in defense. "What ever, what are we doing?" I switch the subject with a smile.

"We are going to swim. Play a few water games." He winks at me, I give him a confused expression in return. "Water games?" I repeat back to him. He puts a finger up to my lips, shushing me. "I've said too much." He joins his girl along with my girlfriend. I stare at the back of his head still genuinely confused. I feel arms wrap around my waist and slightly lift me in the air. I squeal a tiny bit.

"Don't mind him, darlin. We're going to have a good time. No worries." He kisses gently at my neck, now both of us walking. "He... confuses me sometimes. I now know Rosalie can never get bored with that man." I snicker. As we get closer to the water, we get to this large blanket that has candles set up along with blood bags.

"It's our own makeshift picnic." Rosalie clasps her hands together.

"This is cute in a... way." I nod my head. "Let's dig in. I've been waiting for your ungrateful ass." Emmett plops down, grabbing a blood bag. My eyes widen but I begin to laugh. "Sorry." I mutter, Rosalie sits next to Emmett as Alice and Jasper sit on either side of me.

The waves are stopping just before the blanket, the moon was bright tonight. Brighter than the candles beside us. The temperature of the air wasn't bad either for it being autumn. It's been weirdly warm this November. It wouldn't matter to any of us even if it was super cold. "So, thoughts on the wedding?" Alice questions everyone. We all begin to chuckle. We could've figured that was going to be her first question. "I mean we set it up, it was beautiful." Rosalie gives a simple answer. "Exactly." I add in, taking a sip out of my blood bag. It would've been cooler if we put the blood in like wine glasses or something. "I mean like how it went with everybody that showed up. Idiots." She gently shoves me and reaches over to slap Rosalie.

The blonde and I make eye contact, trying not to laugh. "Oh wait before the questions begin, I brought something." Alice pauses the conversation, standing up and speeding off to the car trunk. She swiftly comes back with a bigger bag in it. "What is it?" I furrow my eyebrows, curious.

"Open it." She puts it down in front of us. I go to reach into it but Emmett beats me to it. He lifts out a bottle of wine. His face scrunches up in disgust. "Wine, seriously?"

"There's more." She motions. He goes to reach in but this time I shove him back. I take out a Jack Daniels and I mentally taste it from when I tried it as a freshman. Disgusted I put it down and take out two other bottles. Spirytus Rektyfikowany, a Polish Vodka that is harsh, so I've heard. And Everclear a pure grain alcohol. Both banned from most states. I widen my eyes but they're taken from my hands as Jasper and Emmett cheer. "Don't worry, we don't get hungover." I hear Rosalie say in front of me. "We do however, get drunk off our asses like any other being." Emmett smirks, taking the cap off of the Everclear and the Jack Daniel's. Taking a swig from both bottles.

I shake my head, opening the wine bottle. "Oh there's glasses in the bag." Alice stops me from drinking from the bottle, giving me a wine glass that I don't understand how it didn't break in that bag.

It also irritated me as I could've been drinking the blood from these glasses instead of a bag like a freak. Well either way we're freaks. But I could've been a classy one.

I pour the wine in mine and in one for Alice. Rosalie hands me her glass and I pour some into it, handing it back. "So answer my question now." My girlfriend waves a hand for us to start talking. "I had a blast. Those Wolf mutts are kinda cool. No offense Hybie." Emmett takes another drink of both alcohols. Passing the Everclear to Jasper. "Thanks, bird brain." I snatch the Jack from his hand and take a drink, roughly giving it back. I attempt not to gag but the taste brings me back to horrible memories.

"I had a chill time, nothing memorable." Jasper shrugs his shoulders, lifting up the bottle, I watch as some of it drips down his chin. He goes to wipe it but I stop him, licking it off myself. He hums in response, pulling me into a short kiss. I feel a tiny buzz but I know I haven't drank enough yet.

"I'd say the same thing, I also don't like what that marriage stands for." Rosalie huffs, drinking her wine, ignoring what I just did to Jasper. But I see Emmett smirking at the sight, his eyes kept on me. I give him the finger in an elegant way by scratching the side of my face as I drank the rest of my wine. He snorts.

"I feel you there, Rosie." I sigh out, "but I'd say I had a good time. Truly got to say goodbye to Angela really my only friend I made in high school." I roll my eyes, taking the Spirytus from the bag and opening it. Alice places a hand on my arm. "That's strong, be careful love bug." She gives a short smile. I give her a nod.

"Oh, I saw you with that girl, she had the glasses. Even with glasses to help her see she had her eyes fixed on you. I don't get it." Emmett roars into laughter. Alice glares at him, Jasper squints. He goes quiet but it's now him trying not to laugh. "Excuse me?" I smile, teeth showing. "She was so into you." Rosalie chimes in. "Yeah!" Emmett nods his head. He practically drank most of the Jack already. Splitting the Everclear with Jasper that's almost gone as well. He was swaying. Drunk.

"You guys think that?" I look at both of my lovers who agree with the other couple. "Hm, wouldn't have guessed." I smirk, licking my lips before taking a large drink of the Spirytus. "You already knew, didn't you?" Rosalie asks, finishing her second glass of wine, going to pour a third. I shrug my shoulders in response. Sipping some of the blood after that horrible alcohol.

"She was a good friend, didn't matter to me. I also have two loves of my life. I can't get too greedy." I lean back onto Jasper, and laying my leg over Alice.

It's been about two hours of us talking and joking around over stupid shit before Emmett stands up, having to use Rosalie to keep himself up. She lets him which surprises me. Drunk Rosie is definitely more calm. It's kind of silly to see. Her anger kind of disappears.

Alice is more handsy and Jasper is more vocal. Letting loose. "Last one to the water is... is a loser!" Emmett huffs out, about to use his speed but then trips and ends up falling into the water instead. Jasper gets up, laughing. Following behind but helps him up.

"Man, I think you're the loser." I hear my boyfriend say, laughing heartedly. Something I don't think I hear often. I smile, standing up. "You heard the man, don't be a loser." I kiss Alice swiftly. Running into the water.

The two girls don't rush into the water, only going in to their ankles. I go to say something to them but I get dragged under the water. Hands stay on my shoulders to keep me down. I open my eyes once I register what's happening. I put my arms back behind me and take the legs of my attacker. Lifting myself up, bringing them under water with me. I laugh as I finally reach the surface. Emmett stands up, his drunken self swaying still as before. "It's so on, Hybie." He murmurs, going to attack me again but I move out of the way. I'm definitely drunk but not as much as him.

"You missed!" I laugh out, easily blocking every attack. Splashing him so he can't see me. "Just give up, bird brain!" I yell at him, Jasper cheers me on. Telling me to just attack him. "Never." He huffs out angrily. His large arms almost get me but I get out of the hold quickly. Running over to Alice and Rosalie to save me. I get behind them. He slowly stands out of the water. Standing in front of them.

"Rosie, baby, move." He points, motioning for her to move over. She doesn't say anything but I can tell she made some sort of face for his eyes to soften. "Please, baby." He pleads with her. She sighs. Then in a quick motion I wasn't expecting to happen she pushes me over to him. Getting him to lift me up.

"Rosalie!!! You traitor!!" I screamed, flailing my body around. "I'm sorry!" She laughs back to me. "Oh don't worry, you're next!" I yell just as I get thrown under the water. For the next five minutes it's me and Emmett fighting with one another. Lifting each other up and down into the water. Our bodies repeatedly hitting the lake floor.

The others could feel every time our bodies hit it as well. Forgetting our strength most of the time.

"All right, all right. I'm dizzy." Emmett stops me from getting him again. I cross my arms. "Weak." I mumble under my breath. "What ever." He grumbles, shoving me away from him with a smirk.

After all the rough housing I climb onto Jasper, wrapping my legs around him. Alice and Rosalie were sitting in the shallow part of the water, talking about something as Emmett joins them. Laying his head on Rosie's lap.

I kiss Jasper repeatedly. "Did you have fun, darlin?" He asks me, I bite my lip, glancing back to our set up on the sand and then back to his face. "The most." I nod my head, kissing his lips once more. Jumping up a little bit to get a better position on him. He grunts a little. Holding me closer.

"Was this a distraction from something?" I quietly quizzed him. Laying my head on his shoulder. "No, just some fun before reality hits further." He kisses my neck sweetly.

I hum softly, squeezing my legs around him. "Don't start something right now. I can't hold back with this alcohol. I'll even do it in front of Rosalie and Emmett at this point." I whisper to him softly, nibbling at his ear. He snickers. "Looks like Alice is all for it." He whispers back and I throw my head back groaning. "Stop." I warn him.

"Seriously, you sickos." Rosalie yells at us. We look at her and laugh. "I wouldn't mind." Emmett shrugs his shoulders, his head still on Rosalie's lap.

"Gross, bird brain." I laugh.

Master list

A&J M.L.

Taglist: If you want to be added lmk!

@stevenandmarcslove

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@l3ejm

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@marit332

@marsyay78

@small-town-wayward-daughter

@sugathy

@tallrock35

@azazel-nyx

@silas-aeiou

@xxeiraxx

@capswife

@alphabetically-deranged

@munsoncultedits

@eneywey

@vanessashands

[haveihitanerve]

Riddle me this buttman

What if some Joe shmoe that's part of paparazzi gets the ability to see people's love/fate. They see the usual 'Have a loving family', 'Childhood bestfriend', etc etc wtv boring stuff.

They check Bruce Wayne and see 'Gotham'. Nothing else, just 'Gotham'. They check his kids and they all say something akin to that. Damian has 'Bruce Wayne' or 'Batman', Richard PP Grayson has 'Family' or 'Bludhaven' and Jason gets 'Crime Alley' (No clue what Tim would get ngl).

for the record, Cass would also get Bruce bcuz she's a daddy's girl and always will be. In her eyes, he can do no wrong (unless he tells her no)

i shall riddle you this

Katherine had had the ability to see what people loved above all else since before she could remember. It helped, quite honestly, because she worked as a reporter, and it was very useful to know the person she was interviewing's deepest love. Janet, the HR manager, loved her bull dog Fred the most. Adam, from accounting, loved his girlfriend. Lois, her idol, loved Clark, and Clark, also kinda her idol, loved Lois. It was sweet, touching really. She did see a few weird ones, on occasion of course, she would have been a little worried if she hadn't, but so far nothing... super strange. Not until the interview...

"Kate!" Ketharine turned, offering a smile to the gentle giant that was Clark Kent. "Hey Clark. What can I do for you?" "Oh, uh, nothing much really, actually I was hoping this was a favor for you." He raised his eyebrows, smiling. Kate closed her laptop, intrigued. "Oh? And what is this favor for me?" Clark grinned. She was caught. But Katherine couldn't help it. She was curious.

"Well I have this interview booked, but I uh, can't make it. Something's come up. Do you mind???" His big blue eyes turned pleading and Kate fought the urge to take a picture and place it side by side with a puppy to see if there was a difference.

Kate stemmed her hands on her hips. "Who?" Clark grinned. "Bruce Wayne."

Wayne Manor was... startling, to say the least. Kate knew that she didn't usually get to pick the places herself to interview her people, either the Daily Planet or the client did that, but... Wayne Manor was new. "Sorry, but Bruce is a little secretive. He almost called it off when he heard I couldn't, but I told him you were one of the best."

Clark had told her most everything he knew, though Katherine was well aware there was more he wasn't saying. She was a reporter after all. Still, she wouldn't infringe on his privacy. Reporters didn't exactly have confidentiality agreements with their interviewees, but she had kept a few personal things quite herself over the years too, and had no doubt Clark was the same. Especially with someone as ditsy and generally good natured as Bruce Wayne.

Besides a few rare critics and tabloids, Kate really couldn't find anything bad or wrong about Bruce Wayne in her quick researching session. Usually one or two full articles came up, but the worst thing Bruce had done was fallen into a fountain. He seemed to be, for the most part, a decent man. Which was impressive, especially concerning his status.

The buzzer made a wheezing noise when she pressed it, but before she could try to knock in case that meant it was broken, the door swung open and she found herself looking up at an imposing butler. Kate swallowed, hands immediately moving against her will to smooth out her skirt. It wasn't that he looked mean, he was just... intimidating.

But the butler smiled, a warm, kind smile that reminded her of her grandfather, and stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Ms. Ballenger, do come in. Mr. Wayne is in his study, can I take that for you?" "Oh, thanks." Kate blushed, shucking off her jacket. It was a little more crisp in Gotham than she was used to in Metropolis, but the house was cozy warm.

The butler bobbed his head, indicating her where he was hanging it, before leading her up a flight of stairs to a large imposing wooden door. His word was as clear and firm as his knock. Wayne's. His fist thumped twice on the wood and a deep, soothing bass called back. "Come in." "Ms. Ballenger, for your interview, sir." The butler announced, pushing the door open.

Katherine wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the man lounging in the large red chair in front of her was not it. His black hair was curly and damp, likely from a recent shower, and pushed messily out of his eyes. Said eyes were a glowing blue, striking and enchanting. He had on a dress shirt, but it was rumpled and the top buttons did not seem to be in the proper holes. His feet were propped onto the desk and he was reading some papers with one hand, his other being used to idly rub circles onto a young boys back who was sitting on his lap.

Mr. Wayne removed his feet from the desk as they entered, shuffling his papers aside. "Ms. Ballenger, a pleasure, come in." He greeted, smiling warmly, and nodded his thanks to the butler. The boy on his lap grunted at the movement, eyes narrowed in concentration as he doodled on a notebook. "Damian," Bruce began softly, a smile curling the edge of his lips. "Do go find your brothers, okay? Tell them I'm in an interview now." Damian, apparently, grumbled something, but obediently slid off his fathers lap and made his exit.

Bruce smiled apologetically, standing and crossed to her, extending a hand. "Forgive me, we haven't be properly introduced, I'm Bruce Wayne." Katherine accepted his hand, focused on keeping her eyes on his instead of letting them jump over his head. It was something she had trained herself to do, as people found it weird that she looked over them, but she had caught the young boys words as she brushed past her. It was sweet that his father was what he loved the most.

Bruce's hand was firm and warm, calloused in places she didn't think they would be. "Come, have a seat." Bruce gestured to chairs a ways away from his desk, open chairs, without anything but a small table between them. "Would you like anything?" He asked as she sat down, remaining standing to hear her answer. Katherine smiled politely. "No, thank you." Bruce nodded, taking a seat as well. "Well? What would you like to know?" "Well actually-"

"Dad!! I can't find my staff. Jason said its in here but I know he stole it-" The boy who entered the room paused, eyes lifting from his phone. Bruce seemed mildly amused, looking at who Katherine assumed was another one of his sons with a slight smile. "Then why don't you go confront your brother, Timothy?" Timothy threw up his hands in exasperation. "Well I can't do that without checking here first!" He pointed out with clear annoyance. Bruce's smile grew.

"Of course not. Can't accuse without ample evidence." "Exactly." The boy nodded his agreement, shuffling around the room in search of his staff?? "And yet you seem to do so just fine other days." Bruce continued, and Timothy's cheeks tinged pink. Katherine, excluded from the conversation, used the opportunity to glance over the new kids head.

She was a little surprised to see Batman in bold black letters, but she supposed living in Gotham the local hero might be quite popular. Especially if he was a rich kid who got kidnapped and saved a lot by the Bat. But that was only an assumption. Timothy, finally having given up his ruse, rushed to whisper something in Bruce's ear. The man frowned, but didn't wave him away, and murmured a few words of what Kate assumed was advice before sending his son off again.

"Sorry about the interruption," He offered with a small smile. "No, no, it's fine." Katherine waved his apology away, looking down at her notebook with questions. "Now-"

Another boy, well, man, almost a carbon copy of the last one, entered from a different door, carrying what seemed to be a large fridge. "They broke it again did they?" Bruce asked mildly. The man grunted something that might have been affirmative, and exited through the same door the others had. Kate glimpsed the end of his word just as he rounded the corner. Family.

Bruce was frowning when she turned back to him, and her cheeks colored as she realized he no doubt believed her to be ogling what was definitely his oldest son. But he didn't comment on it, gesturing for her to continue. Kate dared to look over his head as she pretended to shuffle through her notes, but was surprised to find the letters changing, never settling too long in one spot. They seemed to switch between two words mostly, but she couldn't for the life of her discern what they were..

By the time the interview was over, Kate was actually quite relaxed. Despite the interruptions at the beginning, the conversation had gone smoothly, and not only had she gotten thorough, well thought out answers, but he had also shown a genuine interest into her as well, and it had felt less like a job and more like a lovely conversation. It was dizzying.

"Thank you for coming Ms. Berringer, truly, this was lovely." Kate smiled back, shaking Bruce's hand again as she grabbed her coat. "It really was, thank you Mr. Wayne." "Please," he smiled. "Call me Bruce." The word above his head shifted and Kate caught just enough of it to read Gotham before it changed again. That was... odd.

"Yo old man you done?" Another carbon copy kid came out from one of the hallways, a white streak in his hair and the words Crime Alley above his head. That was... also strange. "Yeah Jason, I'm all done with the interviewer." Bruce smiled. "You need something?"

"Yeah Cass-" Before he could finish a girl materialized beside him and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. Kate jumped, but recovered quickly, squinting when she realized the "letters" above the girls head were signs. Sign language. Kate had taken basic sign language in eighth grade, and identified the letters to spell out Dad. She figured that meant Bruce, which was cute. He had quite a few of his kids with his name.

"I also need something!" Trilled a girl with striking blond hair, cartwheeling into the room. Her word was Gotham as well. This was possibly the strangest group of people Katherine had ever met. Bruce smiled indulgently thought, and murmured something to the first girl. "You're all just going to leave the poor interviewer standing in the door uncertain?" Called another voice and a girl with striking red hair appeared in a wheelchair. Her word was also Gotham.

Kate was getting increasingly more confused. Bruce turned to her, wincing with apology. "Sorry, Ms. Berringer, do you need a car home?" "Oh- no no, that's fine, thank you. I drove here." Kate stuttered out, smiling. "Thank you so much Mr. Wayne." He nodded back, and the boy with the white stripe in his hair leaned against his side.

Kate looked back just before the door closed, and as though offering her a gift, his letters cleared a bit as he leaned down to hear the red haired girl speak, the blond and silent girl laughing at one side, the boy on the other. Kids.

[cherricola-star]

Pizza delivery boy Bangchan

Oh no it seems like you're a couple dollars short how are you going to pay for it?

One-shot, not proofread, reupload because I'm dumb and fucked up the polls, no tags yet

It's been a long day, a long grueling day which means cooking is off the table and honestly out of thought. It's also Saturday which means you don't have anything to do the next day so you can do whatever you want and not have to worry about the consequences of whatever you did the night prior.

There's choices on the delivery app that you're using but you really aren't feeling any of them as you scroll through the app. Chinese, Sushi, Indian, burgers they're all so boring. You continue to scroll until you see a new pizza delivery place DOMINO, not Dominos but DOMINO and you're a bit confused. How do they work out copyright laws? Regardless, you decide to check out the new store and scroll through their menu. It's a Korean pizza place with pizza toppings you've never thought to try before and other foods that interest you. You decide to play it safe and order a pizza that's somewhat similar to the ones you've had in the past with new add-ons.

You select the delivery option too lazy to actually go out and get it yourself and pay your fee. A wait time of 10-15 minutes is given so in the meantime you decide to get your stuff together to watch a series while you wait.

While you wait you decide to change into something more comfortable since you honestly were going to just pass out after eating so might as well just prepare for the inevitable.

As the minutes go by you've already changed and got a new show playing while you wait on your food.

*DING*

You get up from your space on your couch once you hear the sound of your doorbell assuming it's your pizza. You unlock the door ready to receive your pizza, not ready for the absolute beauty in front of you.

“Hey…Pizza delivery for uhh…,” he checks the top of the box for your name”Y/N?”

“Yeah that's me.” You awkwardly respond. You most definitely were not prepared for this man at all and if you had the slightest idea he would be coming you would have put on nicer nightwear.

You take the pizza from his hands and check to see if it's what you'd ordered and it's not, not at all actually in fact, it looks like someone else's order.

“Hey umm this isn't my order.” You look up at him. He flushes and checks his delivery tablet that you just noticed was strapped to his arm.

“Oh my God I'm so sorry. There's like 3 orders that I have with the same first name that's definitely my fault. I can go run down and get you yours.”

You nod your head in agreement and give him back the pizza and watch him rush to go and get the correct order.

He comes back to your door handing you the correct pizza, you checked that it was, and hummed in satisfaction.

“How much do I owe you?” You question him

“You can call me Chan and the pizza is gonna be $52.76,”

You're jaw drops, $52 for a fucking pizza?!? That's like not even bigger than 7 inches wide?!?

You have to ask him out of genuine disbelief if this is true.

“Are you being for real?” You hawk at him and he nods before responding “I know the delivery app doesn't show it but if you look it up it's a Michelin star restaurant. We just started doing deliveries so the app hasn't really uhh…updated I guess? Our marketing team is still working on it.”

You're actually shocked. Had you known it was a Michelin star restaurant you would have immediately rescinded that order and got regular pizza. Regardless you only had $38 including tip and that means you were short. $14.76 short to be specific.

“I'm well I wasn't aware that your restaurant was so important and I'm so sorry to say that I only have $38…” You look at him through your lashes genuinely not sure what to do. “You can take the $38 and the pizza back. I really can't make it up unless you want me to run down the street to the closest ATM.”

He gives you a good look and lets out a breath of laughter. “I mean there is one way you could make up for it.” You look at him in surprise, ”Seriously?”

He nods his head “I just need one thing from you and don't feel pressured from it alright?”

You agree and he responds positively. “Give me a kiss?” A kiss? He wants a kiss? Well it's not like you're uncomfortable with the idea he is extremely cute and if it gets you a $14 discount who are you to deny it. “I'll give you a kiss.”

He steps into your home and moves his hands to take the pizza from you and put it on a bear by table. He then holds the back of your head and pulls you in for a quick kiss which then turns into multiple kisses and then evolved into longer desperate wet kisses. You both pull away to catch your breaths. “You know.. you're the first client I've ever wanted to do this with,” he says between breaths. You reconnect for a quick kiss before he moves to your ear to whisper “I can make this pizza worth everything and more if you trust me.”

You look in his eyes and give him the okay to do whatever he wants.

“Show me your bedroom.”

.

.

.

.

So so sorry babes I fucked up the poll so I had to reset it so here it is again.

[jinxpantsu]

Bailey Yapping

Bailey is the opposite of a furnace. Sum' bitch is always cold. If the wind blows a little too hard he bundles up in the middle of summer he's not playing that

SWEATERS AND SWEATPANTS! His closet palette is all dark colors or something plain white. No patterns or nothing. Boring.

Has a heat blanket but ISN'T weighted. If he gets too comfortable in bed he will never get anything done.

Has a burger joint he goes to because he had it once at this specific time under very specific conditions and it was so good he just goes and grabs a burger just because

Speaking of food he's a bad foodie. He'll have plans to cook something at home and have time set aside to make it and enough of it for leftovers and the second he catches a whiff of middle eastern cuisine he blacks out. Driving home MAD AF

Doesn't know shit about loving anyone but has one hell of an obsession with certain things.

Actually enjoys trash tv. Makes him feel better about his whack ass life

Has reading glasses lol. Can't see dick without them. Keeps them stored in a case in the same drawer of hi desk that hides his gun

Has a gun btw. Only used it once.

Dances like the lit uncle at the family bbq

Demands to be called MR BAILEY. Hates when his name is used like it's his first name because its not. In fact, don't even perceive him in any sort of way unless he's present.

English skill check cheater this mf lies like CRAZY

Pregnancy kink but you didn't hear that shit from me

Lowkey ADHD because he can and will talk over you when he knows what you're going to say, cannot sit still or else he will EXPLODE, if you touch him he's liable to make you swallow your teeth, swears hes listening when someone is talking to him and he actually is but he looks like he dont gaf and probably because he actually doesnt.

Sorry mom I can't hear you over the 50 packs of cigarettes I'm smoking could you repeat that? (is respectful to put his cigarettes out when people ask or roll down the window if he's in the car.)

The same fragrance for the last 20 years. Like you smell that shit from miles away and know he's coming. Makes it even more fucked up when he changes scents one day just to throw you off track (looking at YOU fox, wolf, and cat TF pcs)

Off days? WHATRE THOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE

-10000 rizz but he looks good so who is checking that mf

likes the color green but not because of money or anything but because it reminds him of grass

moyai emoji 24/7 sometimes his face will twitch but he looks wholly unimpressed but the entire universe and dares someone to pay him to stop frowning so fuckin hard

he is a sore fuckin loser i stg he loses that game of poker and after everyone leaves he crashes tf out

has a video game console that is COLLECTING DUST IN HIS APARTMENT HE HASNT TOUCHED THAT SHIT IN YEARS. Wont sell it tho bc its a classic even tho it might be worth a lot

his laptop is so old his father probably could still use it but all his orphans who see it thing that shits from the 80s or something its so fucking old

on that note hes bad with technology. he could fix your car for a good price but dammit if you told him to defrag his hard drive he would grit his teeth and spend 27 hrs trying to figure out what the fuck that means before he grabs (mickey) one of his wards to do it for him for £20

probably wanted to be a journalist or something to do with writing/investigating

hes into fat bitches hes a waist watcher hes a warrior he can handle all that

kissed a guy once 20 years ago and was like hm maybe thats not so bad (never did that shit again, he'll call you back eden he promises)

[foptbw]

Timmy: Disclaimer I knoooow my notes have mispellings. I wrote it when I was frustrated and upset and mad! And sometimes words get all messed up when I'm scribbling down it too fast if that makes sense. Please don't make too much fun of me! I'm just so frustrated by this whole Odd Neighbors situation! Why do they like her more than me? Why? Why? Why? Anyway I know the Odd Neighbors are SOOOOOO weird. Even someone else mentioned even if Chester was right and they were on vacation for 10 thousands of days that would mean it would be 28 YEARS! Trust me guys the Odd neighbors do NOT look like they could be old enough to have gone on vacation for 28 years not unless they were like 5 to 10 when they went on vacation and is that even going on vacation? As for them never saying anything about hair dye, they have actually never even spoken to me! Even though I KNOW they had introduced themselves to The Wells! Thats not fair! They talk to the Wells but not me! And Mr and Mrs Wells don't even find their hair weird. Like its normal for people to just have pink and green hair even though they made comments bout my hair. Its just like how no one never ever notices how its weird for Blue lady and man to be blue! I've tried cornering the Odd Neighbors so many times but they always disappear like magic! Like as if they can turn invisible or into some item to hide from me! The only time it doesn't happen is when they are with that girl. But, I can't try to talk to them when they are with her. I'm positive they are fairies or possibly connected to my fairy parents. Fairies have a lot of connections with humans in different lore. The only time they ever let down their guard is with that girl! But I don't wannnnna try to talk to them when SHES around! I can't, I can't, I just can't do it. I'd be like Crocker. I'll never ever be like Crocker. Never ever. I don't care about fairies magic. I just… I just wanna find my family. I just want to know why I never fit in with humans. In stories fairies sometimes leave their children with humans. And changelings are often misunderstood and don't fit in with humans because they aren't humans. If I'm a changeling it would explain why my human parents thought they were going to have a daughter but had a son. Maybe THEIR real child was a daughter? It would explain why they never loved me. Why they never cared. It wouldn't be their fault. How can you blame humans for being unable to love a changeling? In stories changelings are often unable to be loved by their human parents. If I was a changeling than that means it wouldn't be my fault my fairy parents left. Maybe they had to leave. Maybe it wasn't safe for me and they thought making me a changeling would be better. But… if they ARE fairies and they ARE my fairy parents maybe they are avoiding me because I did something wrong. Maybe I did something and now they hate me? Or maybe when they came to check on my progress they were disappointed by me? If they are my fairy parents why do they like that girl but avoid me? What makes her better than me? Is it because she's a girl? Is it because she's cuter than me? Is it because she's normal? Or maybe I'm just unlovable? Too much trouble than I'm worth? Not good enough?

[iamfuckingsorry]

i'm sorry but like. i played the game for the first time like a month ago (and it absolutely wrecked me, it was beautiful), and i just can't stop thinking about this and i need to get it out. but like, kim, what the fuck is the deal with kim?

like, he's just such a weird little man with such a weird little collection of character traits, but also he's just so fucking perfect.

like, kim. he spent 15 years being a cop in a department he fucking hated but he just stuck it out. he is so done with teens he basically refuses to speak to them unless he absolutely has to, but he still spent 15 fucking years in that section, refusing to give up. he's proud to be a revacholian and to protect the city now, but did he feel this way when he joined the RCM? or did he join to prove to everyone that even a monkey fucker like him could be revacholian? or did he join because he got kicked out of the orphanage he grew up at and didn't have anywhere else to go? or was there a different reason altogether?

and look at him now. he's presumably one of the best cops in his precint (i'm sure he mentions something about this early on in the game but i honestly can't remember), and one that seems to mostly play fair and genuinely care, which doesn't seem to be that common at all. and he's proud of this and strives to always be professional and calm and collected even if he doesn't always fully manage. he keeps himself in check first and foremost, and seems to try to keep everyone at an arm's length and not engage in personal discussions, even though he will often indulge harry if directly asked.

and so far it all makes sense, right? he's been treated like shit all throughout his life, dealt a fairly shitty hand, an orphan, an immigrant, a homo, possibly visually impaired (has he always needed glasses? was he able to get them as a broke-ass kid with no one to speak on his behalf? or did he grow up never able to see properly, struggling in school because he could never read the board or react in time when people threw shit at him, made fun of by both teachers and classmates?), mocked and ridiculed, and he's had to fight hard to get to where he is now. and he desperately needs to keep it this way, so he works hard and sticks to the rules and keeps his distance from people, and he puts a stop to everyone and everything that people could make fun of (no, harry, you will /not/ call me kimball, you will call me Lt kitsuragi, no, harry, you will /not/ tell anyone about the ice bear fridge, i will /not/ be known as the ice bear cop). but he's also mostly a genuinely nice and compassionate person and he really cares, as long as people are at least trying to do good.

but also…

he basically wears period cosplay to work. like. for real, he clearly wears his fucking pilot jacket so often that having the RCM insignia sewn onto it was the most logical choice. he is so obviously into planes and cars (but he's too blind to be a pilot :), do you think he used to hate himself as a kid not only because he was poor and abandoned by everyone and "an immigrant" but also because not even his own fucking body would let him be what he wanted to be), he has an extremely expensive vehicle that's his, his only, and not even really needed for the stuff he does at work the majority of the time. he clearly had to have a chat with his boss at some point in time and justify this purchase and why the car should be permanently assigned to him and him only, and even if i'm sure he had a bunch of actual reasons you can't convince me that his boss and all of his colleagues weren't all aware that really, he just wanted a fast fucking car and had an excuse to get it. and clearly the higher ups like him enough to indulge him, because surely no one would be actually fooled? why would a crime investigator get it and not, like, the fucking traffic guys chasing drunk drivers and illegal racers every night?

and like, in some ways he fucking owns it, doesn't seem to give a fuck, he's who he is and if people don't like it that's not his problem. but he's also embarassed about listening to that fucking radio station. but he also drives a sports car and wears driving gloves and a pilot jacket, of course he's listen to that fucking radio station. but then he also does newspaper crosswords. like, he seems to put a into maintaining this facade of professionality, but he also really doesn't fucking care when it comes to a lot of the stuff, it's great. except for the extremely random stuff that he does care about and can get extremely flustered about momentarily.

and it feels really out of character in a way. he works so hard on keeping himself in check at all times, representing the RCM in a good light and making sure both him and others get treated with the respect they deserve. he smokes one cigarette a day to keep proving to himself he can keep his vices in check, for fuck's sake. but then it's like he just picked one (1) part of his personality where he just went like, fuck it. Fuck it, I work hard for this shit and I deserve to do what I want sometimes too, and this one fucking thing is innocent enough and safe enough, and I don't give a fuck, I deserve /one fucking thing/ and I'm gonna get it. I'm getting the goddamn jacket and the Kineema and if people have a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves. I /need/ this one thing and I. Am. Getting. It.

(it's clearly a big part of his personality, but do you think there were other massive interests in the past, or maybe there still are others he isn't as open about with? Things he thinks would undermine his career and reputation? Past hobbies he abandoned because if anyone found out, that would be the end of his career at the RCM, even though for anyone else who wasn't a stupid fucking immigrant who can't even see right it would be a funny little detail?)

anyway.

i'm just like. stay the way you are, my weird little man. you're great.

[scrubbinn]

_____ HRT: 15 months: “Human”

“Hey Mayday. How's my girlfriend doing today?... I hope you can hear me in there. I'm recording another tape for you in case you forget everything again. I just got back from the doctor, they ran some tests, still couldn't figure out what's up with my knee. I think maybe I'm just cursed, with this broken human body. I guess you don't have to deal with that now huh? Lucky.”

“It just sucks, you know? Not a single medical doctor in Canada can tell me what's wrong and then when suddenly, magic exists, it gets regulated so you can't use it for medicine! Ugh. Rules are dumb, why do we even have them. Also sucks that I have to walk here every time I miss you. Which is a lot. Why does everything have to be so shit?”

“Speaking of shit, you should have heard me go off on that doc when you first started… cocooning? I’m blanking on the word. But I just went off on that man, It felt so good just to throw everything back in that pompous jerk's face! He had it coming, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to go off on a medical professional. He does have his uses, I suppose. You weirdly seem to like him, and at least he can put in enough effort to care about your physical health. But you should have seen how he reacted to you, he makes me so, so, so, AAAAARG! Sorry, you don't like yelling right?”

“You know, when I heard about you passing out nearly half a year ago, I thought, this is it, I'm going to lose her forever. I guess I did, when she decided to forget me. That's not fair, I just, I can't help still being mad about it. After everything we went through, and everything you went through with our friends and family. This really meant more than all of those memories put together? God you're such a dummy. I wish I could understand you.”

“Getting to meet you all over again, I didn't hate it like I thought I would. No matter the memories, it really was still you. Just, a little different. Sorry I kept pushing you to remember something… Maybe it was wrong of me. But every time I saw your face, your eyes looked back like they were trying to remember anything. It made me kind of happy, like I was important enough that some small part of you didn’t want to let go of me. I thought we were making progress. But if we have to do it again when you come out. I might actually start to hate it.”

“...Hey, you are happy right? This is what you wanted, yeah? You know I'm ok with you not being human. When you told me you were thinking about this, I supported it. Though, I'm still having trouble getting used to it. I don't really know how to feel now that you're like this. I just, I want what makes you happy, and I know you want the same for me. It's just been difficult right now. To keep smiling. I… I went to that sushi place we were going to go to. They had really good unagi. I ate so much I could barely afford the bill, haha. I know if I go there again without you, it's just going to taste like nothing. If you're not there with me, what's the point? This moment. The world has color again, I can taste things again when I'm in this room, and it hurts so much because you're not here. I'm sorry I… I'm trying not to cry in front of you hun. I'm sorry.”

* * *

“You don't mind if I stay here tonight do you hun? I don't really feel like walking back home right now. When I’m with you I- um, hello?”

“Oh didn’t realize anyone else was here? You’re Abigail right?”

“And your May’s mom right?” Are you here to see her?”

“Yes, I haven’t actually checked in since I heard the news. Is that. Her?”

“Pretty sure yeah. Unless there’s another girlfriend shaped cocoon that I missed. D- Do you need a tissue?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you… Pardon, but would you be able to answer a question? I don’t really understand this whole therian thing. I’m still a little shocked when Mich- Mayday said she was doing this sort of thing in the first place. I’m fine with it, I support her. But, did she need to do this?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well I mean, did she need to change? Isn’t it just safer to hide? She’s doing such a brave thing but there are so many people that might hurt her. It's my job to worry about her, and I know this city is better and all with this sort of thing, but what if she gets attacked when she visits, what am I supposed to tell my sister if she asks what Mayday is up to. My family doesn't even know her name is Mayday now.”

“...Oh. Oh, this is weird seeing it from an outsider perspective.”

“I'm sorry? What do you mean?”

“It's that you don't get it, I mean I forgot it until now, but you don't understand. It would have been more dangerous if she didn't do this. She's in pain, her gender, Her body, her species. They don't match her brain. It's not like it's a choice either. She's hurting. Her staying human, she might have made worse choices. Ugh, I'm sorry hun. I should have realized how much this means to you, I'll be here, for real this time. I'll be here for y…

Oh my god, it's tearing. G-g-go! Get a doctor!”

“What? Oh! Uh, right!”

“Hun! Can you hear me? It's me! Follow my voice!”

“A…b…i…

Mimic HRT: 15 months: “no longer”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Start - Prev - Next

Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315, @aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywine

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 21 Thoughts: Y2K [Error]s

And we're back, again. Albeit I'm back quite late. This one was an interesting one to start act 3 with. On one hand it's a really good recap for what's lead up to this and a great foundation of what we can presume is to come. On the other hand it's an episode I think is deceptively devoid of new information. There is obviously new stuff to dig into here but in general I think it's not a lot of major stuff and mostly reinforcements of stuff we're already well aware of, or confirmation of stuff that I feel was about as good as confirmed anyway. With that said, this will be quite a read because what there is to dig into does go pretty deep.

Spoilers for episode 21 below the cut.

The conversation with Sam and Celia has a couple of interesting bits in it. Some of it's fairly obvious but there is at least one thing I've not really seen people talk about with it. So, Sam is flirting with the idea of of quitting, which is very Sam, and Celia pushes for him not to and tries to get him back "on track" in regards to the Institute, which is very Celia. Celia does care about her co-workers but obviously she's out for herself more than anyone else in the office. Her "complicated immigration status" is another is a long series of alternate-universe references. I think her comment about the OIAR's lax background checks is a more compelling detail there. Presumably there is a TMP version of Celia, who may or may not be called Celia. So you wouldn't necessarily expect there to be an issue there. "Celia" Ripley does likely exist and is likely British and would likely qualify for a position in the OIAR. Yet the way Celia frames it suggests she thought it would be an issue too. Either something that might come up after she got the job or something to be solved in order to get it. What I think is interesting about that is that it suggests to me that her identity isn't the problem but that they'd have some way to tell she's not from this universe.

That's all pretty normal stuff for this show though. The most interesting part of this is Celia's statement that she has to stay because he can't take Jack back to wherever she came from. I've seen a lot of musings on it but nothing that's gotten to what I feel is the heart of the problem there. Jack can't come with her because Jack is a baby and so can't understand and then engage with the mechanism she used. Which basically confirms that however she did it is much close to Darrien's meditation-induced-travel than, say, a portal to walk through. She doesn't rule out that she couldn't go back either so however it works it would have to be something Jack would have to participate in. Although there is the possibility that she's currently sharing her body with the actual TMP Celia and has merely brought her consciousness over and that Jack can't go because there is no body to return to. The problem with that though is the aforementioned background check. If she was physically living as TMP's Celia then there isn't really a concern there at all. Along with Lady M being about to smell that she's different it probably rules that out. Not a strong confirmation but certainly more pointing in the direction that Celia's body is hers which in turns makes the issue with Jack less likely to be that there is no Jack in Celia's home universe to body hop into.

Okay, so on to the incident proper. Honestly, not a huge amount to dig into this one IMO. Obviously a fair bit happened but it's mostly surface level. Which isn't a bad thing but for the sorts of things I tend to talk about it does limit what there is to say. I'd rather not recount things unless I have something to say about them beyond the text itself. There are still a few things to mention here all the same. Firstly, speaking of Darrien the Dr Welling that is mentioned in the episode is very likely the person who gave their name to Welling Mutare Materia where Darrien was incarcerated in episode 17.

Next up, while it's not talked about in explicit detail there is one thing that sums up the point of this ritual, the "Great Work". Anyone into alchemy will be well aware that this refers the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, the Magnum Opus. Immortality, turning lead to gold, spiritual enlightenment, all of the above. Ask 5 alchemists what it's about, get 6 answers. There are some pretty major implications to this that I've not really seen touched upon. Firstly, it's a near direct confirmation that the OIAR and the Magnus Institute are directly adversarial. If the Institute's goal is the completion of the Great Work then the OIAR's purpose is to prevent that and it's something they. mostly, openly broadcast. The symbol of the Magnum Opus is circle housed in a square, housed in a triangle, that is housed in another circle. That symbol is found in the OIAR's insignia but inverted. Which is about as blatant a statement of opposition as you can really get. In turn that also largely confirms that the OIAR are responsible, or at least wanted to, burn the Institute to the ground. The timing of this is very likely not a coincidence either. This letter is dated 04/01/1999, the dome they're referring to in it (the O2, formerly the Millennium Dome) was opened 31/12/1999, as you might expect. The Institute burned down just 7 days prior to that happening.

Secondly, knowing that the Great Work is pretty obviously the goal at this point recontextualises things like catalysts and agents. As well as the general purpose of the Institute as a whole here. The Great Work isn't generally seen as a bad thing in alchemy, like, it's the whole point of the art. It also doesn't seem like the Institute itself is necessarily perverting that idea either. The PoV character is certainly not happy with the idea that this ritual will harness fear and despair is too great of a quantity. So it doesn't seem out and out capital E Evil as a plan. At least as presented. However, there is

Next up, the Millennium Dome itself has a few interesting elements to talk about in this context. The most obvious one is the Millennium Experience which was a kind of its whole thing for its first year. This was an exhibition of all sorts of bits but of relevance is that the exhibition has split into three major themes; Who We Are, What We Do, and Where We Live. 3 is a fairly major number in alchemy thanks to the tria prima. They're divided further still and Who We Are splits into Body, Faith, Mind, and Self-Portrait. These have some loose alignment with the tria prima, the body, the soul, and the spirit. This is something other people have brought up though and it's not actually the thing I think is exciting about the Millennium Dome. Especially not in context to the episode. The dome is important as an architectural work first and foremost. Everyone should go have a look at it because its major feature is incredibly relevant to the Great Work, this episode's details, and the show's explicit references. The feature of the Millennium Dome are its twelve 100 meter support towers. IRL the 12 towers were chosen mostly because of the strong associations with time, both hours and months, but in this episode a lot of weight is given to the astrological and there are 12 signs in the zodiac. But 12 is also incredibly important for the Great Work too. Typically there are 4 stages that you must take to complete the magnum opus but these stages were expanded upon by various scholars. 12 is a number multiple sources land on. 12 is especially relevant for TMP because it's what's laid out in The Compound of Alchemy; or, the Twelve Gates leading to the Discovery of the Philosopher's Stone, written by George Ripley in 1471. Ripley is a very noted alchemist and importantly Celia is his namesake. It really just ticks a whole lots of boxes for "big important thing" in a show like this.

As a final note on the Great Work its presentation as a universal transmutation is quite a shift from more traditional interpretations. As mentioned it's a bit all over the place as for what it means but this incident seems to portray it as something akin to The Change in scale. Universal and far-reaching. It's hard to say too much more than that based on this episode alone but it's worth keeping an ear out for in the future. Even if this version of it is benevolent I can see why something of that scale got them firebombed.

Also, is it just me or does Chester sound much more roboty to start here than in other incidents?

After the incident it's Alice and Lena having a bit of a chat. Alice in this scene is a little peculiar to me, she's very quick to accept that Sam is correct about being lead to a conclusion by Freddy. Although I'm not sure how that reflects on her stance in the last episode. She was obviously trying to protect Sam but it didn't seem like she was lying about not believing his whole conspiracy there either. In this scene though she's pretty sold on the idea. Lena having a heart is nice to see too. I like that she's opening up a little more and is subverting some of the expectations of her assumed archetype.

Gwen and Ink5oul's section is pretty self-explanatory IMO. At least as far as those two characters go. Ink5oul's powers are progressing and she's now able to control mundane tattoos she had no part in producing but beyond that it's pretty expected stuff. Obviously the real standout here is [Error]. Firstly it's a confirmation that they're the one compelling people to spit out statements. Not that I think that confirmation is much of a reveal. There are a few bigger details to pick at here though. They've seemingly marked the whole gang for some reason. If the above is correct, and the OIAR is directly opposed to the Institute, it could just be revenge. Albeit that labours under the assumption [Error] has some sort of allegiance to the Institute. Which I think isn't entirely certain at this stage. The way the transcript describes them is also very perculiar.

A Figure emerges, shrouded in a cloak of whispers. … The Figure continues to emerge, a nightmarish specter of an older world, slowly enveloping Ink5oul’s brash bravado … The Figure breathes deeply, a strange and disconcerting sound, enveloped in pained whispers.

They're three details worth mentioning there. The first is their almost ephemeral description, they emerge and then continue to emerge. Which is a strange phrasing if they were just walking into the scene. The whispers I think are fairly obviously the statements they force on people, not much to say there. "Ink5oul’s brash bravado" speaks to what I was discussing in last episode's post. Ink5oul seems to be fairly inauthentic in a lot of their interactions and are putting on a persona to seem like they're more of a badass than they really are. Outside of that there is just this to mention.

The tape recorder bites Ink5oul before clicking off.

I've seen it brought up a lot and I get why, it is quite funny, but I think it's also speaking to a larger thing. [Error] appears to have much greater control of these than we might be familiar with. I'm not going to get into TMA spoilers but [Error] seems to be conjuring, and commanding, these things themselves which is a very different vibe. I think they might serve a similar purpose overall, the gathering of statements, but more purposeful and I could also see them being [Error]'s physical tether to the world. If they are as ephemeral as the transcript hints at the tape records might serve as their anchor. It's something they can move about but it might be their vulnerability.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4254 seems about right but it's also such a weird one that it's hard to really quantify. It doesn't strike me as wrong in any way but the focus of the incident was not on the, well, incident. So it's hard to say.

CAT# Theory: CAT2 is a 2 and I don't have a huge amount to say on these as of yet.

R# Theory: BC seems right. It's what the last letter about spooky shit was rated and this seems to hit all the same notes I mentioned in the ep 19 post.

Header talk: Architecture (Landmark) -/- Corruption (Entropy) is another of those strange ones. Our third in a row. Which likely means they're here to stay, and while that's generally fine by me it does make me wonder what the diegetic reasoning is here. It's a pretty sudden shift to just do this now and it never come up before this. It's also not something mentioned as new either. Corruption (Entropy) is fairly interesting though. It makes sense for the incident but it feels like you could've just done "time" here for the same effect.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep2 Musings - Louis' Alimony Check from Lestat (Tentative Timeline series)

Back when I was making my S2 Timeline, one dead end that I couldn't definitively follow was WHEN did Lestat write that letter to Louis? 🤔 According to Roget, the last time he heard from Lestat was in 1940, to plan the party for Mardi Gras. So I assume Lestat wrote the letter to Louis in early 1940/late 1939, for several reasons.

Something that make me pause was THE MONEY:

Cuz that's based on REAL money:

I can't tell exactly how many banknotes were in that box, but the franc was Struggling™ esp. in Post-War France "You want francs in pockets? These people are broke!"

Cowan, Helen I. “France: Wage Trends and Wage Policies, 1938-47.” Monthly Labor Review 65, no. 2 (1947): 149–57. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41831305.

In 1945, approx. 120 francs = 85 cents. Meaning 1000 francs was barely scraping 100 USD, oof.

(By Oct. 1945, the average hourly wage was 34.7 francs, so if my math is right (unlikely 😅) that's like 24 cents--$4 in 2024.)

BUT! In America, $100 in 1945 would've been worth $1742 in 2024.

Now, if I SQUINT, I THINK the larger papers under the 1000 note(s) is more money?

Specifically, the 10,000 franc banknote:

French francs tended to go up in size with their value, so the 1000 note was 172x95mm, and the 10k note was 221x120mm (the largest note). So if there's at least 2 of those notes in the box going by the screencaps we got in 2x2, then I ASSUME Lestat left Louis at least 20k+ francs (approx $14k, or $244,680 in 2024 🤑).

BUT! If I understand money correctly (doubtful 😅), Lestat would've been giving Louis MORE money in American dollars, esp. if he put wired the money BEFORE THE WAR (Sept 1939 - Sept 1945). It was actually depreciating in value as it sat in Roget's office during the war, oof. (The franc never really recovered; it went obsolete when France eventually switched to the New Franc in 1959, and then the Euro in 1999/2002.)

Cuz here's the thing: Did Roget update/convert that cash? Cuz the notes in that box was recent.

That's the 1000 Francs banknote issued from 1944-1946, which, as my timeline pointed out, was the period when Charles De Gaulle was in charge of the GPRF (June 1944 - Jan 1946); "De Gaulle's Paris had me etherized!," meaning Louis & Claudia had arrived in Paris BEFORE January 1946, before those banknotes went defunct.

TL;DR: So can we assume that Lestat wrote the letter and sent Roget the money for Louis pre-September 1939?

Meaning: before WWII & France's economy tanked (so back when the money would've been worth more in France)? Then Roget updated the cash with current notes when De Gaulle took over in 1944? Cuz the French banknotes PRE-War looked way different from what's in that box:

A horrifying thought....

Now...say it ain't so, Louis, but did he LEAVE THE MONEY? 💀

When Louis & Claudia moved to Paris, they pickpocketed enough to pass as "moneyed Americans;" just meaning: they could afford the overpriced black market food everyone else was rationing (but which Louis was just using as bait for the pigeons he'd eat instead).

Cuz full-sized baguettes were WAY above the size of bread rations in post-war Paris:

But their flat was a dump compared to Rue Royale; without even separate bedrooms for him & Claudia; and full of "cracks in the walls" Louis hid with photos.

So after getting that box full of money, WHY didn't Louis move them into a nicer/bigger apartment--one not full of "students & sex workers"--esp. one in a nicer part of the 9th Arrondissement? 🤨

So unless we're told otherwise, I think Louis felt bad about everything Lestat wrote in the letter, and decided not to spend any of Lestat's money, to just eke it out on his own--Deprivation du Lac strikes again! 😩🤦

STUPID! 😂🤣