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silasoctakiseron · 3 months ago

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Regarding the Eighth House's appearance and lack thereof in Harrow's River bubble

I want to preface this post by saying that before you read literally any of this you should go read no speculation in those eyes by @onmentalsafari on ao3, because it's a) possibly my favorite Silas fic of all time and b) definitely my favorite handling of the Canaan bubble as a concept. Anyway. Moving on.

This post is almost certainly not going to tell you anything you don't already know. It is nevertheless going to be an extended examination of Silas and Colum's presence in Harrow's River bubble mimicry of Canaan House, with specific regard to whether Colum appeared at all and why Silas conducts himself the way he does.

Despite both being dead and both being people Harrow encountered at Canaan House, the Eighth are not prominently featured in the Canaan bubble. On its face, this shouldn't much matter, given their marginally relevant status as widely disliked side characters. However, people Harrow never met at all — namely, the real Dulcinea and the living Protesilaus — are present, active, and fully-fleshed in the bubble. People she met and didn't know well, including Magnus and Abigail, Jeannemary and Isaac, and Marta, additionally appear as whole, real spirits with independent thoughts. The only people who appear as poorly-fashioned constructs of their real selves are people whose souls Harrow could not call to the bubble, either because they are not dead or because they are somewhere other than the River.

Silas's full and complete soul, rather than a construct in his image, has been pulled out of the River and is trapped in the bubble with everyone else. His primary appearance is in chapter 26, when Harrow finds him on the terrace, which I'll discuss later. This is the only time we see him in person in the entire book.

He appears elsewhere a couple times, chiefly when Abigail attempts to recruit him in hunkering down in the Second's rooms for warmth/protection from the Sleeper (ch. 21) and tells Harrow they were unable to get him to do so (ch. 28):

“Dulcie—Lady Dulcinea, do you mind if I ask you to get Silas Octakiseron with us? He’s neither to hold nor to bind to me, but he might listen to you.”

“I told [Dulcinea] that I didn’t think we’d get Master Octakiseron first time round … She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’” [Shocker.]

It's clear enough here that Silas has a personality and control over his own behavior that are independent from Harrow's influence on the bubble, and the other ghosts recognize him as a person rather than a construct. The fact that he chooses to use this independence to presumably be insane alone in his room for nine months is his own problem.

Either way, he doesn't appear to be doing well. I've mentioned before that frankly, Silas very obviously falls rather to pieces¹ in the Canaan bubble, as described here in chapter 26 of HTN:

The Eighth House necromancer stood there with the wind flapping his wet alabaster robes, his braid torn to wisps and ribbons ... From closer up, Harrow saw that he was all in disarray: his clothes were smudged and a few of his buttons were not done up. The rain and the fog had lashed him terribly.

He looks great. He's doing awesome. He's clearly capable of appropriate self-maintenance and has clearly not been losing his shit over the fact that he's alone to fend for himself.

I've also said before (see above link) that everything that seems off about Silas in the bubble is related to Colum. Colum sometimes appears alone in GTN, but Silas doesn't appear independently of Colum a single time in the entire book — indeed, Colum occasionally speaks for him or quietly interprets social cues for his benefit. Silas is also, obviously, completely dependent on Colum to perform his necromancy. While it's shown that he physically can siphon from other people, as he does to Ianthe in GTN ch. 34, it's also made clear that soul siphoning works best (or at least, is strongly believed to work best) when the participating necromancer and cavalier are closely genetically compatible, and it's not incontrovertibly certain that Silas can siphon from another person without using Colum as a jumping-off point. Colum's marked absence from HTN is a blip in the broader narrative, but to Silas would have been like having an arm torn off.

The void where Colum used to be gives us a fairly ready explanation for why Silas has "gone to ground" in the bubble, as Magnus puts it in HTN ch. 28; he's completely vulnerable to any and all external forces and doesn't trust anyone else in the building as far as he can throw them. It also explains why he looks a complete mess when Harrow finds him, other than the fact that he's standing in an active rainstorm. We're aware from GTN ch. 28 that Colum is responsible for a lot of Silas's personal upkeep, including specifically his hair, and it's clear that Silas is either struggling to do it alone, failing to prioritize it because he has bigger problems, or both.

All of this being said, having established that he's clearly not present for the vast majority of the bubble's existence: where is Colum Asht?

While Colum never appears onscreen in the Canaan bubble, it's a common misconception that he's never mentioned at all. This is very close to true, but not completely. Colum is never mentioned by name, but vague sketches of him appear in the background until Silas's apparent death.

Something in Colum's place appears by implication in ch. 8, when everyone "arrives" at the Canaan bubble:

They were led away in twos—barring the Third House trio—²

Abigail also alludes to Colum's existence in ch. 28 shortly before learning of Silas's disappearance:

“I tried to make [Dulcinea] take the bed—she was so upset that the Templar pair weren't on board.”

There's one other, less certain mention. The Eighth House are represented in some capacity at Harrow's ball for the hand of Her Divine Highness in ch. 41, though no specific reference is made to its scion or cavalier:

The other seven Houses present³ were flaunting as though they were birds in a particularly baroque mating season.

Notably, the Coronabeth construct does appear at the ball even though Silas destroys it almost 15 chapters prior, meaning that his absence elsewhere doesn't necessarily bar something resembling Colum from having been present. This presence is definitely doubtful, in my view, but it is nevertheless not impossible.

One tall, astonishingly built Third House princess had chosen to sit among their number like a butterfly in a grey bog: she wore a silk robe in gold and breeches that showed off a calf too fit to be called a necromancer’s, and she was holding a glass of champagne and laughing at something she was being told.

All of this suggests that for at least part of the time the bubble was in effect, something resembling Colum was present enough that nothing seemed blatantly amiss, at least not to Harrow et al.

That said, it's clear that ghosts who were close to the real people replaced by constructs in the bubble recognize very quickly both that something is wrong with the construct and that they and/or the construct ought to be dead. The best examples we get of this are Marta's experience of the Judith construct's death in ch. 18 and Abigail's description of what Marta found wrong with the construct in ch. 43.

[Marta] said, with uncharacteristic frenzy: “Why am I here? ... I want to know—I just want to know—” ... “She had eight metal projectiles spun at high speeds through her midsection,” said Harrow. She knew that some people took comfort in the idea, so she added: “She would have died very quickly after her heart was destroyed.” “No,” said the lieutenant, and now Harrow thought she seemed dazed. ... “That’s not … Don’t know why I thought … No.”

“Why did you only pull some of us as ghosts? Why did the others appear as—varyingly ludicrous constructs? Lieutenant Dyas was certain Judith was wrong before she even died, that she was like a confused parody of herself.”

Being as it is that Colum is Silas's constant companion and has been since he was a very small child, it beggars belief to posit that he would not recognize anything appearing in Colum's stead as a construct or other insert rather than the man himself. Like Marta, he also seems to have figured out the truth about Colum's and his own deaths fairly quickly. (Marta says in ch. 45 that "the Second House doesn't overthink the River"; the Eighth absolutely cannot say the same.)

We know that Silas knows both that Colum is dead and how he actually died, including the parties involved, because of his conduct in ch. 26. Silas encounters the Coronabeth construct — though whether he found it where it was or manipulated it out onto the terrace himself isn't clear — and destroys it.

As of ch. 34 of GTN, immediately prior to his death, Silas has no particular quarrel with Coronabeth. If anything, he might consider her vaguely complicit in the crime of Ianthe's ascent to Lyctorhood, but that's about it.

Silas sounded quite normal now when he turned and addressed the monotonously crying girl by the slab: “Princess Coronabeth. Is she speaking the truth? And did you, at any point, attempt to stop her, or know as a necromancer what act she was committing?” “Poor Corona!” said Ianthe. “Don’t get on her case, you little white excuse for a human being. What could she have done?”

But Silas's destruction of the Coronabeth construct isn't about Corona herself. It's about Ianthe, and he says as much.

“And somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered.” He pushed. The eldest princess of Ida dropped from the side of the docking bay with swanlike ease. ... The Eighth House necromancer stood there ... and he did not even look over the side.”

As I've said before, there is no evidence that Silas had ever experienced any particular suffering prior to his and Colum's deaths that would drive him to seek revenge, particularly not on an apparently unrelated party like Corona. Until his arrival at Canaan House, Silas lived what appears to have been an extremely sheltered existence. The suffering to which he refers here, evident in the clear collapse of his ability to keep himself in order, is very obviously the grief of Colum's death, and may refer in addition to the emotional turmoil he experienced upon discovering the Colum construct and remembering Colum's demise in the bubble.

To Silas's understanding, Coronabeth is to Ianthe as Colum is to him. She's Ianthe's family and companion, the person for whom Ianthe clearly cares most and upon whom she most heavily relies. The Faustian bargain of Lyctorhood demands that Lyctors sacrifice the people closest to them in the world for power. Ianthe made that trade with counterfeit money — she got the power and eternal life without being forced to kill the person she loved most. Silas received neither of these dubious rewards and still lost Colum so completely that he can't even locate his ghost after death.

But wait, I can already hear some of you commenting on this post, wasn't Colum's death very obviously Silas's fault? Didn't Silas directly cause Colum's death by siphoning him without his permission and then splitting his focus while they fought Ianthe? The answer to this question is obviously yes. Silas violated Colum's bodily autonomy more extremely than he ever had before in order to defeat Ianthe, and in doing so recklessly he killed Colum. We, the readers, know this.

We also know that the Eighth House, and Silas in particular, are not in the business of admitting wrongdoing. Silas is both a self-righteous 16-year-old boy and a product of the House which is perhaps the single most loath to acknowledge even the capacity for moral error on its part of any of the Nine Houses.

In Silas's mind, whether Colum's death was caused by something he did is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that he only did what he did because Ianthe made it necessary to do so. If Ianthe hadn't insisted upon ascending to Lyctorhood, then insisted upon refusing her sentence for heresy, then insisted upon fighting back instead of going quietly, Silas would never have been forced to siphon Colum at all. Therefore, this is all Ianthe's fault, and Ianthe deserves to suffer. Whether Silas similarly deserves to suffer in his own mind is irrelevant — he perceives himself as suffering either way, and he believes it unjust that Ianthe is not experiencing the same punishment.

Then, of course, Silas throws himself off the terrace and into the water below. We know that Harrow perceives this as suicide; we know that Silas does not.

“I don’t give a damn about White Glass mysteries or cryptics,” [Harrow] said. “I care that you just pushed one of the Tridentarii to her death.” “Death?” said Silas.

Silas has no intention of killing himself in ch. 26. Silas is a River specialist, and Silas is knowingly entering the River.

Silas Octakiseron had launched himself fearlessly into space after the tumbling body of Coronabeth Tridentarius. ... Harrow thought she perceived a tatter of something penetrate the cloud. Her heart pounded rhythmically in her ears, and she thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

The water Harrow sees when Silas breaks through the boundary of the bubble is confirmed to be River water, rather than a hallucination or any other visual phenomenon, in ch. 53.

[Harrow] popped the bubble, and the River came rushing in. It came down around her in shreds, as light and insubstantial as drifts of spiderweb. The water sprayed through white holes, rushing in with a pounding roar: that brackish, bloodied water that only existed within the River.

We can infer from the connection between these passages and Silas's general behavior in the bubble that wherever Colum may be, Silas believes the River is how to get there. If this theory doesn't hold water to you, we can determine that Silas believes that staying in the bubble is actively hindering him from reentering the River and, at bare minimum, "wait[ing] for our Lord's touch on the day of a second Resurrection" (per Magnus, ch. 45). That said, knowing that the rest of the Canaan bubble crew have struck out into the River to help Matthias Nonius ally with Gideon the First, wherever he may be, it's difficult for me to imagine that an aggrieved and mourning River necromancer with nothing else whatsoever to do with his afterlife would not similarly go in search of the only person in the universe who has ever cared about him.

We know that wherever he's headed is dangerous. The River is, of course, dangerous anyway; we know that devils travel up through it, and that human souls stagnated in the River for too long are driven to insanity and become revenants. However, Abigail explicitly states in ch. 45 that she's concerned for the state of Silas's soul given the haphazard method by which he exited the bubble.

“I worked out how to return [the Fourth] to the River first thing. They didn’t want to go, but I overruled them. I would have done the same with anyone else—if only Silas had asked me; what has happened to his soul worries me horribly.”

Eighth necromancers' interactions with the River, which chiefly seem to consist of sending the souls of their cavaliers to wait on its bank in order to create empty conduits for its energy, obviously differ significantly from those of Fifth necromancers, who predominantly call spirits out of the River. However, it's my view that Silas could probably have gotten himself across the River safely if he'd wanted to, or at least to whatever point within it to which he deemed non-heretical to travel. I think that Silas has a goal in mind in the River that would not be served by merely transporting himself along it in a manner that would have been guaranteed to keep his soul safe and intact, and I think whenever he reaches it is the point at which we'll find Colum.

Footnotes below.

¹ We can actually compare this to his appearance in chapter 28 of GTN, when he's recently been scared off Lyctorhood by whatever the Ninth trial was and is similarly clearly not doing great:

Gideon must have caught [Silas] mid-ablutions, because his chalk-coloured hair was wet and tousled as though it had just been rubbed with a towel. It seemed frivolously long, and she realised she had never seen it except pinned back. ... Silas looked as though he had not slept well lately. Shadows beneath the eyes made his sharp and relentless chin sharper and even more relentless.

If you wanted, you could establish as a tentative rule that the worse his hair looks, the worse he's doing. I won't, but you could.

² Interestingly, a vague allusion to Babs or something like him is made here, too, and he is genuinely never mentioned again, even in future references to the Third in the bubble. We obviously know where his soul is and that it's inaccessible to Harrow because it's not in the River, so there's likely something to the fact that he and Colum are excluded from the bubble in roughly the same way.

³ This could technically refer to the presence of the First House at the ball for the purpose of presenting Kiriona, but it's fairly straightforwardly clear in my view that the seven Houses which would have an interest in "flaunting" themselves are those which could marry into the House. I'm clearing this up in advance because I know some of you love to argue.

#this post is over 500 words longer than a paper I wrote toward my master's degree last night so. enjoy.#silas octakiseron #colum asht #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 5 months ago

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Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

#I’m low-key terrified to post this pls don’t hang draw and quarter me #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #romani dick grayson

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tagidearte-spam-sb · 9 months ago

Text

The Daycare Attendant and Their Dialogue

A little ramble on some of the things I've noticed about their ways of speaking. This post ended up being predominantly about how they refer to one another. Most of this is speculation mixed in with my own views on them and their relationship, without discarding some other possible alternatives (for instance, although I do view them as two AIs that heavily rely on each other to function properly, I do not cast aside the interpretation that they are the same person).

(note: although I have played SB and Ruin, I did not play HW2 myself. All I know about that game has been through let's plays).

Sun is, obviously, the chattier of the two. Not only are his sentences longer, he speaks more of them in a row than Moon does - in fact, we only see Moon going on and on in Ruin (which we will discuss later).

Both of them use a lot of repetitions when speaking. From their infamous "clean up, clean up" line, to Sun's panicked "you like glitter glue? I have glitter glue!" and "light's on! Light's on! Keep the generators on!", to Moon's "hidey hide, hide away" and "bad children must be punished. Bad children must be found", "knock knock", etc. One of the first things Eclipse says is also a repetition ("warning, warning"). They appear to occasionally rhyme their words too, or at the very least use similar sounds in their sentences. This is a robot that works with young children, so it's not surprising.

On that same vein, their main insult to misbehaving children (and employees... or at least Cassie's dad) is also a repetition: "naughty, naughty" (which turns into "naughty boy" for Gregory), "rulebreaker, rulebreaker", and "bad kid, bad kid". In fact, it appears they repeat words more often when they're mad/stressed (Sun's no no nos, Moon freaking out in Ruin). Taking into account they get mad pretty easily when things don't go their way, it's not surprising we hear it so often, but it's neat.

Although both of them speak in an almost song like manner, with Sun's run on sentences flowing well between one another, Moon is the one where this is more evident due to how much shorter his lines are.

Moon is also the one who speaks in a more childish manner. Not only are his phrases shorter, he doesn't articulate them as much as Sun does, and seems to prefer shorter words and sounds, especially giggles. This makes Sun appear more developed. Key word being appear.

Sun tends to speak as if he's entertaining a crowd, doing his best to keep the attention on himself while trying to keep it fun. This is most evident in his level explanation parts in HW2, but it's also clear in SB. In Ruin, this is absent for... obvious reasons.

Both of them are somehow direct in their way of giving orders/saying what they want to do. When they can't be direct, they find workaround truths in order to conceal what they truly want to say, while keeping the main order clear (such as Sun saying the player will hurt their eyes if they work in the dark and ordering them to keep the lights on, rather than saying Moon will kill them so keep that room bright. Direct, but nicer).

Not at all important to FNAF speech lore but I think it's funny: Sun says the infamous Vanny line during the daycare intro section. "Are you having fun yet? (Are ya, are ya?)". 0.5 seconds after Gregory just stands there, which coincidentally is what Vanny does 0.5 seconds after Gregory gets into a vent (numbers exaggerated). I don't know. I just think it's funny. Replaying the daycare section after hearing Vanny yapping that line non stop gave me flashbacks.

The way they refer to each other and the pronouns they use are an entire thing, so let me separate it in two parts.

So that this post doesn't become scrolling hell on the tags, I'll keep it below the read more line:

Sun

Sun is the one who refers to himself the most. He frequently uses "I" or "me" when talking about himself, and does it way more often than Moon. Examples of this are "I have glitter glue!", "I'm stuck in a nap", "it really speaks to me", "I feel dumber just looking at it" - you get the point by now. The reason I'm going hard on this point is to contrast his way of speaking to Moon's.

When it comes to him referring to Moon, we only ever hear it twice. In HW2 he says "He'll wake up if the lights go out!". In Ruin, he says "Not me, the other me!". Besides those two voice lines, he merely alludes to Moon without ever mentioning him by name or by pronouns (such as when he says he'll turn the lights off himself, implying he'll let Moon deal with you, or when he says you can't work in the dark and instead of saying the real reason as to why, he cuts himself and goes "You'll- hurt your eyes if you work in the dark").

This is interesting for two reasons: one, we only see him directly mention his counterpart when he's in a ruined state (the HW2 voice line comes from the mask off section, when they're broken down. At least I think so); two, he simultaneously views Moon as separate from himself ("he'll wake up") and as a part of himself/another side of himself ("the other me"). You can take that as them really being the same "person", or as a reflection of their complicated body sharing situation. Take it as you will.

As far as referring to himself and Moon at the same time, he only does it in Ruin when he states "We need to be whole".

Moon

The way Moon structures his sentences means that he seldomly actually refers to himself directly. For instance, he doesn't say "I will find you" or "I will punish you", putting himself as the subject of the sentence. Instead, he puts others as the subject, wording it as "Bad children must be found" and "Bad children must be punished". This is consistent across all of his voice lines except one... Well, technically two.

To get it out of the way: there's a deleted voice line where he says "I'm putting you in time out", a line he and Sun share and which worked the same way the clean up one does - them saying the same thing, a push towards them being the same person ordeal.

The only in-game time he refers to himself directly is in Ruin. This line is also the only time he refers to both himself and Sun as a duo. This line is also the longest line of dialogue Moon has.

"(groaning noises) Naughty! Naughty! Make it stop! The light makes us hurt! Grind Grind! Grinding gears inside my head! We can't move. Error! Error!"

This line, much like Sun's, is interesting for various reasons. Even though Sun is no longer with him (being stuck in the VR world and separate from Moon, shown by how Moon can't move because the lights are on but his body can't shift into Sun, so he's completely stuck), he first refers to himself as a "us" - adding Sun into the mix. Then he refers to himself alone, "my head" instead of "ours", before going right back to a plural.

We can assume one of three things here: one, Moon refers to himself as a we more often, adding Sun into the mix, a complete opposite of his counterpart who typically speaks in singulars; or two, Sun is not as absent as he appears and in that moment he is in fact with Moon, just stuck on the passenger sit, hurting alongside him; or three, this is merely an effect of this being in the Ruin DLC where the whole point of the daycare section is to fuse Sun and Moon into the Eclipse, so the writers decided to bring the point home further. If you have more options, feel free to add them.

Side note: This voiceline also shows Moon's speaking patterns pretty well. Putting "the light" as the subject instead of "we/I", the rhyming, the repetition, the clipped sentences compared to Sun's endless ones, the noises, the scratchiness, the vague childlike mannerism... All ending with "we can't move", way more straight to the point, said right before he freezes up, which deviates from the "other subject first then me" rule due to the pain tearing through him at the moment.

Moon does not call Sun "the other me" or anything similar in any of the games. He never refers to Sun as if he too was Sun. However, we can assume his view on their situation probably mirrors Sun's - being in the same body and all -, so take it as you will.

And as for Moon referring to Sun as a separate individual... He does not refer to him as a "he". Instead, he actually mentions his counterpart by name, saying "No more Sun". Meaning he's the only one of the the two that has canonically used his other side's name. I think it's interesting how the least chatty one is the one actually calling the other by name and not the other way around. And yes, you can say it's a way of speaking and he's referring to the concept of the sun rather than saying his name, but taking into consideration Sun never utters the word moon, I'd say it's still quite a big thing.

In my headcanon land, due to the happenings at the Pizzaplex, Sun is probably too embarrassed and mortified to even mention Moon. Moon, on the other hand, has no reason to have such troubles besides hating Sun for (in his perspective) keeping him locked in a prison of light. So for me, it makes sense we never see Sun saying Moon's name, and it makes it more impactful when he actually acknowledges Moon as the other me rather than a he.

Eclipse

I lied there's three parts.

Eclipse has very few voice lines. The only one that matters here is "We need to clean this place up before we can open in the morning." This is pretty straight to the point: Eclipse, unlike Sun and Moon, doesn't use an "I". They immediately speak in the plural. They do not view themselves as just Eclipse, but rather as both Sun and Moon combined, at the same time.

As for the DCA being two AIs or one... in Ruin, Sun thanks Cassie after Eclipse is activated. It's left ambiguous. You can say Sun speaking afterwards proves they're not one and the same, "with the Sun and Moon AIs still running separately somehow", or you can assume Eclipse existing doesn't mean Sun and Moon can't keep doing their thing under safe mode, albeit in a less chaotic manner, allowing Sun's voice to come through but not making him any less Moon - he is Moon, he is Sun, and they are complicated yet very simple.

I believe in whichever version is more convenient at any given time, with a preference for "two codependent AIs" given what the games show us. Although, going by everything I collected here, the only theory I believe to just not be supported by canon at all is the one with Eclipse as a separate thing all together. Eclipse refers to themselves as a "we', not an "I". Eclipse activates when you make Sun and Moon "whole". It canonically makes no sense for Eclipse to be a third thing. (Please remember this is a post about what's in the games, the canon of FNAF. AUs and fandom or whatever, you do you).

That's it. Hope you enjoyed my rambling. Uh artblog unpaid promotion @tagidearte thank you for making it this far.

#dca #fnaf #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf eclipse #fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #help wanted 2 #hw2 #if you wanna know #I spent time on this because...#I am writing two fics for them (just them and other canon characters)#and although Sun's dialogue comes easy to me #I did all this analysis just to be able to write moon's #never say fanfic doesn't make you look at stuff in ways you'd never really do otherwise

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litsenn · 2 months ago

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Hi, I hope it's alright to ask your thoughts on something about Astarion. I just think your posts always show a very deep understanding of Astarion as a character, especially in regards to his complicated views on sex and intimacy, and I really appreciate and respect your analyses. I'm only on my second playthrough, so I like to hear from people who have played a lot more than I have.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Astarion’s state of mind in the first sex scene in act one (I'm currently writing about it). The more I think about it, his experience seems to be a very complex mixture of both positive and negative that exist simultaneously. These are just some of my current personal thoughts (all of this in the context of the PC being someone who treats him well and is generally a good person):

This is the first time he's getting to have sex on his own terms in 200 years, and that's probably liberating, in a slightly terrified and overwhelmed way. He is likely trying to convince himself that he feels more empowered and in-control than he actually does, because he needs that feeling.

He knows the PC better than he ever knew any of his past targets, but he doesn’t yet believe that they truly care about him, either.

The sex ends up meaning more to him than he thought it would, but I also imagine it isn't exactly enjoyable for him, given his dissociation, feelings of disgust, and the fact that this was all just supposed to be an act.

He is also probably struggling to reconcile the fact that he’s growing to genuinely like the PC with his belief that they are fetishizing him (this also connects with your incredible post about Astarion’s feelings about feeding on the PC at this point, and how biting during sex can be enjoyable for him, though still uncomfortable in that he views it as transactional)

He feels like his performance here is important to his survival, because in his mind he is using sex as currency to get the PC on his side. The transactional nature of it is probably comfortable in its familiarity, yet no less disgusting for him.

So what I’m ultimately trying to ask is:

In your opinion, how much of this experience feels positive to him vs negative?

Which of the feelings mentioned above do you think are at the forefront of his mind going into the encounter? Which ones “win out” over others? Are there more factors I forgot / didn’t list?

(I hope I made this sound somewhat coherent. I’ve had a hard time articulating my thoughts about this scene.)

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words 😭 I’m always very touched when people say they enjoy reading my stuff. I don’t know if my understanding of the character is so relevant, all I can say is that I relate to him on many levels, and therefore I analyse him from my personal perspective. Which also means that my posts are just one interpretation among many others.

Now, concerning this scene, there’s a lot to unpack. And I first have to say that there is no clear answer to the question "Did he enjoy it or not?". IMO, it will always be yes and no. And I'm only offering a personal analysis of this ambivalent situation.

Proceed at your own discretion because I’m going to talk about trauma, SA, sex-work and complicated relations to sex in general. Be careful.

Please, keep in mind that al of this is pure speculation (and forgive the typos😅)(and this post is long and chaotic, sorry).

I globally agree with all your points, and I love that you mentioned the complexity of his feelings during this scene. We can all agree that he has contradictive feelings about sex in Act 1. It's not just disgust, not just hedonism, not just attraction, not just manipulation: it's all of this and more.

And that’s one of the things I love about the writing of this character.

Sex is always complex (for everyone) but for survivors it’s even more complicated. And I love that Astarion’s narrative stands against the “perfect victim” tropes and the idea that SA survivors are incapable of enjoying sex. Despite the decades of SA, Astarion still enjoys it and wants it, but his desire is tainted with self-loathing, with fear. He deals with those through defence mechanisms and what I’d call “automatisms” from his former experiences and obligations.

That's why before I answer your questions, I want to add one point which can also work as a foreword to the rest of the post: Astarion is attracted to the PC.

He says it during the confession scene, and there's no reason for him to lie at this point. Likewise, if the PC tells him they can be together without having sex, he's indeed relieved, pleasantly surprised, but he jests about it being a challenge.

I think there's some truth in those words: it will be somehow challenging. First because sex is the only kind of intimacy he's known for 200 years; it's will be difficult to "quit the habit", to discover and get used to new ways to get close to someone. Secondly, because he does find the PC attractive and probably wants to be able to have sex with them without feeling bad about it.

After all, it seems like he enjoyed sex very much before Cazador turned him, since at the beginning, he thought he could still enjoy having sex with his targets.

Meaning sex wasn’t something that disgusted him before all this. He might be able to remember (deep down) that sex can be 100% enjoyable.

Yet, it doesn’t necessarily means he’s now incapable of enjoying it; it only means that it’s going to be more complicated. He needs to rediscover how to fully enjoy it again – on his own terms – now that he’s free to give his consent.

Take the brothel scene for instance; if the PC has sex with Astarion and the Drow twins after dealing with Cazador, he's at first very excited about it. And I don't see any lie here, he's genuinely enthusiastic.

Unfortunately, during the orgy, he realises that it’s not for him ( not yet at least). Being with many people, and/or with someone that is not the PC is still an experience that triggers his trauma. But he didn't know that, he wasn't expecting his trauma to manifest. He wanted to do it, he wanted to enjoy it.

Not only he falls back into his old mechanism: sex as a performance, Astarion as an entertainer who must give the best performance to his partners, paying no attention to his own desire and needs. Followed by dissociation, which is something that happen automatically. You don't decide to dissociate. It's your brain switching off because the reality is too uncomfortable. It's survival.

Anyways, this bad experience is typical of what can happen to someone who's healing. It's normal. You want to explore your sexuality, and sometimes it works perfectly well, and sometimes not. That’s what healing is about. It's not linear, and sometimes it's messy.

It is true that some SA survivors are perpetually sex revulsed. And some of them become sex-addicts. And for most of them, it’s somewhere in-between. Still capable of enjoying sex VERY MUCH, but also finding themselves disgusted by sex sometimes for reasons they can’t really explain. There’s no rule as to how survivors experience sexual attraction.

All of this to say that it is clear to me that Astarion experience sexual attraction, that he is attracted to the PC and that even in Act 1, an important part of him wants to have sex with the PC.

Back to your points.

Control, habits and defence mechanisms

I like how you said he “is likely trying to convince himself that he feels more empowered and in-control than he actually does, because he needs that feeling.”

There’s definitely something in his mind that still thinks as a slave, something which believes that he must have sex to be safe. Because it was the case for as long as he can remember.

Seducing people, sleeping with them without thinking about his own needs, that's part of his habitus. His body has been a tool for so long that he still sees it as such.

It’s ingrained in his mind, and even if he’s regaining his agency, some of the seeds planted by Cazador persist in his mind (and will until the Act 2 confession). Astarion says it himself, it's instinctive. And as you put it, it's somehow comfortable, it's charted territories.

A part of him tells him his only value relies on his sexual skills. Therefore he associates sex to a “safety net”. But he probably hasn’t acknowledged that yet in act 1; he prefers to lie to himself and to pretend he’s sleeping with the PC because he has become the puppet master. It's easier to think that way. But in fact, it was just a automatism, his survival instinct. So even if he’s really attracted to the PC, Astarion is still driven by fear and by a need to control how the PC feels about him (precisely because he's so afraid to lose control over the situation). And sex is the perfect tool for that. His body is the perfect tool.

[I can recall a few numbers of times when I had sex with people while lying to myself and pretending I 100% wanted it, pretending I was the one in control, when in fact, I had sex with those persons for reasons that had nothing to do with my own desire. It doesn't mean I didn't find them attractive, it doesn't mean I regret having sex with them, but it still means that my motivations weren’t what I thought they were, that my decision to have sex was still controlled by something else in my mind, something different from my actual desire. I acknowledged it months and sometimes years later.]

When Astarion welcomes the PC in the clearing, he’s performing. When I say he’s performing, I mean in the way he presents himself as as a person craving for sex, and he expresses his desire as such. He puts on the mask of the “mysterious sexy vampire”, keeping his voice low and his smirk sharp. He plays his part, the one he's played for years. He pretends to be the lover he thinks the PC wants him to be, the overly seductive vampire with his exaggerated declarations.

I think there are several ways to explain why he feels the need to perform:

It has always worked with his target up to now

That's the only way he knows

The exaggeration is also a shield behind which he can hide his vulnerabilities

Let me explain that last point : Saying a simple “I’m attracted to you, I want to be with you tonight”, without all the grandiloquence, is not something he would do at this point (even if that's how he feels), because that would make him look vulnerable. That would mean being honest with himself and with you, letting you see his raw desire, so to speak. It would feel too real (I purposely insist on that word and you all know why), and it's easier to exaggerate the whole thing and to pretend to be the hedonistic and over-the-top vampire. After all, he’s confident, he’s been doing that for years. He knows it works. He knows he’s hard to resist.

But when you think about it, he's obviously lying, saying he wanted this to happen since his first meeting with the PC... Come on, the first time they met he was ready to kill them.

It's a lovely lie, just like the "I love you" during his second proposition for sex (I talked about it here), but when you look into it, it's far grimmer.

Once more, there's a parallel between sex and death: "to have you"= Killing you. I already talked about that connection here, so I'll just quote myself: "It's possible to see Astarion's offer to kill you as a foreshadowing of him offering you to have sex with you. And considering what sex means to him at this point of his life - a tool to manipulate, which can lead to his partners to death - the parallel between the two in early act 1 makes a lot of sense to me."

But oh! µTav/Durge survived that first night with him! The PC is still here in the morning! That's new! It never happened to him before, waking up next to his partner. He needs to control this unusual and terrifying experience! Quick!

So I tend to think that the little remark about the PC being loud all night falls along those lines. He displays his (exaggerated) hedonistic and over-confident part of his persona, as a way to reassert that he’s the one in control. As if saying, reminding them: "I made you (the leader of the group) scream all night because I decided to, and everybody knows about it. I’m the one calling the shots.”

But I think it's also as way to hide how he really feels about that night. So instead of opening up and saying how he feels about it, he teases the PC about their own enjoyment. Another defence mechanism.

And yet, the mask cracks a little bit when he asks if the PC wants to lose themselves in him; he suddenly looks terribly sad…

he asks for a consent he was never able to give before that

That’s probably a line he’s said thousands of times before and those who agreed did get lost… in death

It brings him back to the feeling of being a toy for others to enjoy, for people to use so they can "lose themselves"

The look on his face here is what he's trying to hide during this scene. He's wearing that mask (which will come back later if you ascend him), because he needs to protect himself. I'm not even sure if he acknowledges it at this point. It's an automatism.

But I believe that, as the night unfolds, he finds himself enjoying it.

Maybe it's just me, but I tend to feel like he’s getting more like his playful and silly self when you let him bite you. Whereas if you trust him to not bite, he keeps on performing, in control, like he was told to do by Cazador.

If you let him bite you, you roll on the ground and he looks pleasantly surprised. And I think he starts to have fun here.

(Shadowheart, please)

And I think he can enjoy it even if he dissociates. As I said, the switch is automatic when the brain finds itself in a situation that represents some kind of danger or discomfort. For two hundred years, Astarion experienced sex in a way that was all but comfortable, sex he didn’t really want. It makes sense that his brain automatically switches off. Even though he’s having a good time here, intimacy itself is a trigger, no matter how much he's enjoying it. It’s instinctive, just like flirting is instinctive to him, paradoxically.

And I find the way he explains it quite interesting: he pretends it’s because of his bloodlust, because he didn't want to get carried away.

You see in his eyes that he’s lying. And I kinda like it because it’s sooo relatable. Finding excuses to justify dissociation or plain detachment during sex? yeah, that something I did, with answers along those lines: “I didn’t want to hurt you/I didn’t want to be too intense/I didn’t want to be too loud/I didn't want to scare you/I'm a little tired/etc."

And I still think he enjoys it even if he’s not 100% into it. He keeps his distance (mentally, emotionally) and it’s normal because he’s careful, because he doesn’t really know how to let go. And (healthy, happy) sex is about letting go completely, it‘s about trusting someone and allowing yourself to be completely free from your mental and physical restrains and automatisms.

It’s easy to understand why he can’t fully let go: he’s afraid, because he’s not 100% sure he can enjoy this, because he doesn't know how the PC will behave, and because he must be in control to feel safe.

His body knows how it works, so he lets his body act automatically, that body which have danced the same dance thousands of time. He doesn’t have to think and it’s easier not to think. Easier and apparently safer than following his true desires. Here again, it's an automatism: his body knows, he can switch his mind off, protecting it from potential bad memories, protecting him from his own desire and feelings, protecting him from the temptation of being himself.

He can’t let go, he has to be in control. if only to make sure he will offer his partner the best performance. Even if he's enjoying the moment because the PC is respectful, playful, gentle or whatever you imagine for this first night, he can't let go.

As you said, he’s convinced the PC is only here for his looks – But think about it: Astarion himself never offered anything other than sex, he didn’t pretend he was in love with the PC. He only offered his body. By doing so, he's also protecting himself from potential feelings (theirs or his) of attachment and affection.

It's like saying “Don’t get attached to me. It’s just SEX”. He pulls up his own walls to keep the PC outside. It's another contradiction: he suffers from being seen as a beautiful and shallow individual who’s only good for sex, but he says upfront that he won’t give more than sex. He keeps the PC away (emotionally) while suffering from it. That’s another defence mechanism, combined with the fact that he probably still sees himself as a "mean to an end" (unconsciously), unable to see that he can be someone else than the "hedonistic and heartless vampire."

Besides, it's probable that he doesn’t believe it’s even possible for anyone to care about him. So he anticipates a potential emotional disappointment by saying that it’s only sex, convincing himself as much as to convince the PC that there’s nothing more to expect from it.

Positive/negative experience

You asked how much of this experience feels positive to him vs negative. Let's recap.

Positive feelings:

Excitement (first time having sex on his own terms + he’s attracted to the PC)

Physical pleasure (sex + blood if the PC lets him bite them)

Fun

A sense of freedom

Relief and a sense of pride (they fell into his trap)

A newfound affection (they trust him, they respect him)

Good surprise (he can still have fun while having sex!)

The PC being who they are (more about this later)

Negative feelings:

A sense of obligation

Fear

PTSD

The need to perform and make sure they enjoy it

Habits that make him serve instead of just enjoy the moment

Guilt

Shame

Confusion

Disgust

Feeling of being used (even if the PC isn't exactly "using him"; they accept his offer and they're not to be blamed for it)

One could think that the negative feelings are more important, and true, those bad feelings can be destructive. But I don’t think the unbalance is so evident, maybe because the positive feelings are all completely new to him, therefore they may be particularly powerful.

But in fact, they're all entangled and messy, and I believe Astarion himself can’t really make sense of them.

And later, he sums it up all on his own.

What we know, is that a few days later, he remembers that night as a good experience. And exceptionally good experience.

And tbh I think that’s what matters: What he makes of this night, how he digests and, remembers it, and how he looks back at it. It was special. Special enough for him to admit it.

He admits it feels different with you, it feels good with you -- but he can't yet get rid of the negative feelings sneaking in the back of his mind, ruining what should be a lovely moment.

As for the main feeling at the forefront of his mind… I don’t think it would be one feeling, but more a motivation: “I must stay in control” (whether he succeeded is up to discussion). In the end, I think he manages to suppress his main fears, to keep a certain distance, while at the same time finding himself surprised to be enjoying it.

Questionable motivations and enjoyment

As a SA survivor myself and a former sex-worker, there are so many things that fall close to home both in terms of ptsd, of performance and habitus. I perfectly see how desire, obligations, attraction and disgust can mingle until they become difficult to set apart. {Mind you, I’m not saying that sex-work and sex-abuse are one and the same, far from it. One can be a sex-worker and have never been abused].

In the case of Astarion, he’s first and foremost a survivor, and even if he compares himself to a prostitute a few times, he had no choice in doing it. Therefore, it's not sex-work, it’s human trafficking.

Yet, it's still transactional, and just like a sex-worker, he had to perform, to let the partner(/client) believe that he wanted them, that he wanted it, that he was enjoying it, even when it wasn’t the case. Remember how he made Sebastian believe he was head over heels for him.

During the first night with the PC, Astarion decides to have sex without anyone forcing him to do it. But he doesn’t do it out of sheer lust and attraction. He does it because he wants to keep himself safe and he thinks that’s the only way. Which is, imo, closer to what a sex-worker would do: having sex for money because they need that money to pay the rent or whatever they need to survive. No one is forcing them, except the material conditions and (in Astarion’s case at least) cognitive bias (the belief that he’s “only good at that”) + long terms habits.

And just like a SW, he has to make them believe that he's totally into it (believe me, client don't enjoy it as much if the SW doesn't pretend to be attracted to them).

Look at him, he’s performing. He's said those lines multiples times before. Even the movement of his hand: it’s theatrical. It’s planned and calculated.

This too is instinctive. He's done that for years and he is good at it.

Look at the shift, look how easy it is for him to put on a smiling face to "open a lot of doors" (and legs).

And after pretending to be attracted to those persons, he had to pretend sleeping with them didn't affect him. That too falls close to home.

That line in particular. SO FUCKING RELATABLE IT HURTS.

In my experience, there had been bad experiences. But you go on, because you need to. And to protect your own sanity, you stick to the idea that it's fine, that you can do that again. That it doesn't matter.

But it does matter.

And yet....

In the case of SW (which should always be consensual), being with a client can be a nice experience. Some clients are attractive, some clients are very sweet and respectful, some clients are very good fucks, some clients are all of this (and some clients are bastards but we’re not talking about them here). In any case, they are still clients. As a SW, I didn’t see them as potential ‘real’ lovers, and I wouldn’t have considered sleeping with them in any other situation. It doesn’t mean the experience was bad. I had genuine O with some clients and really enjoyed the company of some of them.

It seems contradictory, but it's real.

Back to Astarion: at the beginning of the meeting it ultimately starts with a performance, like the SW pretending they really want it (whereas they're only do it for money), but it might turn into a really good moment for everyone involved.

And IMO, that's more or less what's happening here with Astarion.

It's a tricky thing to explain because I really don’t want to look like I’m promoting forcing anyone to do anything. Sex should ALWAYS happen in a situation in which all the persons involved are 100% sure they want to do it, and 100% sure their partner(s) want to do it.

But there are exceptional situations (such as sex-work or what Astarion’s going through here, and I can think of other cases), where sex remains enjoyable even if the original motivations weren’t that clear. It’s not fully incompatible. Clearly, that’s NOT a healthy way to deal with your sexuality!!! But it can happen. And the main point here is that it still relies on consent. The person fully consents to do it, but they do it for “questionable” reasons (whether they acknowledge it or not), and they enjoy it in spite of having questionable reasons to do it. It can happen.

I think that’s what happens to Astarion at this point.

(That being said, I repeat it: ALWAYS make sure your partner is fully into it, and NEVER force yourself to have sex if you’re not 100% sure you want it!)

From a transaction to something else

It’s interesting to notice that if the PC refuses to have sex with him in the clearing, he doesn’t really seem to care.

He’s probably disappointed because his plan failed, but his reaction is very different from the reaction you get if the PC rejects him after the first night (my post on this matter here) when he seems really sad to be rejected. It means, I think, that this first night was REALLY meaningful – his heartfelt reaction to your rejection to spend another night together makes it clear. That first night was special since his reaction to your refusal is so very different.

In any case, if the PC refuses during that first night, he says he thought you had an “understanding", and it somehow evokes me something like a transaction (as you rightly mentioned in your message).

And it's not the first time he compares sex with the PC to a transaction. The first time he offers them to sleep with him, he presents it as a reward for letting him bite the PC. It's transactional: You let me feed, I give you sex.

He thinks that’s what sex is about. He has never known anything else, or maybe he did a long time ago but can’t remember.

I wrote that long post about how feeding him can be quite problematic given how he might see it as a transaction (here and here): Offering the the vampire bite kink in order to be fed and survive. It’s the same here.

He knows the PC enjoyed being bitten, he’s convinced they're attracted to him, and by being the one who gives "a reward", he presents himself in a position of control. I “allow” you to have sex with me, since you want it so much: I’m the one making that decision, having more power over you.

After all, in his mind at this point, sex is a question of power. (And if he ascends he undeniably falls back into that pattern; treating sex as a reward, as something to use to better control the PC)

You put it rightly in your message, there's also some sort of familiarity with that transactional system that is deeply comforting.

I won't lie, back in the days, it was sometimes difficult for me to be with someone who wasn't a client, because my partners then didn't expect anything from me. Whereas clients always expect something specific, if only in the SW's behaviour, or/and concerning the acts themselves. And it was comforting. I knew what I had to do to please them. But as I said, it didn't always keep me from having a good time with some clients. It's not incompatible. That's why I think Astarion can still enjoy it even though he's performing, and can get attached to the PC even if it started as something more or less transactional.

And that's precisely why it must have been so destabilizing for him!

After all, when that first night together happens, he appreciates the PC (you need enough approval to sleep with him). As you pointed out, they've already spent several days/weeks together, shared a lot things... That's new to him, sleeping with someone he knows and appreciates.

As a SW, I had defined through the years a clear line between people I met for the job, and people I met outside of it. There was no confusion between the two, even for the long-terms clients – even for the clients I cared about. I liked them, but we weren’t friends, we weren’t partners, we weren’t lovers. And we would never be.

I would say that in the case of Astarion, that separation exists, but it’s not as well defined because, despite his experience, all his partners were destined to end up dead (for all he knew) and he barely knew them anyway. He didn’t have to clearly define that separation because there was no opportunity, no room for him to get attached to them. He saw a target, seduced them, slept with them and they disappeared forever.

It was “easy”, he didn’t have to question the nature of his relationship with them. Whereas after that first night with the PC, they’re still there, alive, and they’re still being this great leader who cares about him and his needs, who values him as a person, someone whose company feels good. His habitus is all messed up and his mental pattern is no long relevant.

{From personal experience, and SW put aside, many years ago, before I really started working on my traumas, I forced myself to believe that I didn’t need affection, tenderness, care. I would never allow myself to cry, I refused to get attached to people (except some very close friends). Because I wanted to be in control of my feelings, I thought it made me look stronger, not showing any kind of vulnerability. I was 27 or 28 when I first experienced genuine tenderness and care while having sex and I realized that there was a softness inside me I had hindered for years and that I actually loved tenderness. Before that, I would run away at the first sign of affection, because it made me feel deeply uncomfortable (and vulnerable). And when I finally accepted to experience it, it was completely destabilizing. It felt good, but I needed time to adapt.}

Astarion realizing that he wanted something real, soft, and gentle with the PC might have had the same kind of effect, but worse. Because he was supposed to be manipulating the PC, to pull the strings, and he suddenly found himself being “manipulated” by his own feelings.

It must have been terrifying for him, realising that he could feel something like this. Because it means he doesn’t control himself (his feelings) as much as he wants to, as much as he thought he could. He "falls" for the PC, the expression itself being one of vulnerability.

For him, falling in love = falling into a trap. He was supposed to be the one crafting that trap, and he ends up being trapped by his (uncontrollable) feelings.

That's why he can sound so cynical about your affair. This banter is from Act 2 if you romance him:

He feels uncomfortable, not because you had sex, but because it actually means something, and he doesn't not how to deal with it. It's easier to joke about it than to admit that maybe he's not so much in control.

It's not the PC's fault

He’s hurt, he has PTSD, but he can now think by himself and make his own choices, for better or worse.

It’s normal for us, fans who know the rest of the story, to worry about him and to not want to have him do something he's not fully into. But we should give him some credits and let him experience sex his own way.

When you’re a survivor, sometimes you have great sex experience, sometimes your PTSD will ruin it, and you won’t be able to go through with it. Sometimes you have sex for bad reasons, sometimes you regret it and sometimes you’re proud of it. Sometimes you have healthy sex and sometimes you use it to hurt yourself. It’s normal. That’s what healing is about and how you learn to define your boundaries.

Astarion didn’t have any body agency for two centuries, it’s coherent that his first experience as a free man is driven by questionable reasons. You can’t expect him to immediately find a healthy way to deal with his sexuality.

For instance, if you don't sleep with him at the party, he spends the night with Lae'zel, and imho it's even worse.

She shamelessly uses him like a toy, and he knows about it. But it's still his decision to sleep with her, even if his motivations aren't "good". You can't take that away from him on the pretext of protecting him. He doesn't need that kind of infantilisation. Same thing when he decides to sleep with the PC.

The thing is that the PC can’t know. As benevolent and respectful and selfless as the PC is, it’s part of Astarion's storyline that they don’t notice anything. He does his best to keep the mask up because the last thing he wants is to look vulnerable to you.

And he knows it's not the PC's fault. He slept with them for questionable reasons and he feels bad about it; not because he thinks they hurt him, but because he knows he mostly hurt himself, and he feels bad for manipulating the PC.

He doesn't blame the PC for it, and I'm sure it's not because he's deluded by his sense of guilt. After all, he never blamed his targets for sleeping with him, even the "villains" among them. They're not the enemies.

Those who hurt him didn't hurt him because they accepted to sleep with him, but more probably because of their behaviours during sex.

Besides, if the PC uses the confession dialogue to trick him into sleeping with them again, Astarion accepts before realising how disgusted he feels about it, and there he blames the PC for it, because here they explicitly abused his trust, using his vulnerabilities against him. It's still difficult for him to say no, especially to someone he respects, but he can say no when he's not taken aback in his most vulnerable moments (again: he doesn't sleep with the PC at all if there's not enough approval). Sleeping with him that first night doesn't make the PC an abuser.

In act 1, the PC has no way to know how Astarion is feeling about sex, The PC is one that fool who wanted to love him...

Trust

I already mentioned how pleased he looks when the PC let him bite them, and I think it has to do with trust. They accept to spend the night with him although they know he's a vampire and they trust him not to drink too much. Look at his reaction if the PC warn him not to bite.

He's really disappointed, enough to put an end to this affair. The tone he uses here doesn't seem 100% genuine, though, masking indignation? frustration? sadness? I don't know, but the "it's about pleasure" sounds so fake to me.

He nonetheless decides to not sleep with the PC - he listens to himself and realises he doesn't want to spend the night with someone who can't trust him. The PC has taken back their trust and reduced him to his vampiric nature (as something bad). Whereas if they sleep with him, they show him that they accept him.

That’s what makes that night so special: not thanks to some sort of “collective ecstasy” but thanks to mutual trust. The PC trusts him not to hurt them. Astarion trust them not to abuse him. He’s not ready to be vulnerable, but he allows himself to enjoy that moment with the PC, despite his plan, despite his past. Because they've both come this far and the PC has proved him multiple times that he could rely on them. It’s a fragile trust at this point, but it’s still more than what he’d ever had before.

An essential step

IMHO this scene is essential in the romance route. I know some players wished there could be an option to romance him without sleeping with him, and I perfectly understand why. Realizing that he might have not be totally into it is painful. It’s uncomfortable. I also understand that if the PC is demi-sexual/ace, it makes the romance road a bit awkward. And it’s a valid feeling.

You can romance him without sleeping with him as Karlach origin, and that's because it's Karlach. The tension arises from the fact she can’t and wants it so much (for good reasons), whereas Astarion can and wants it somehow (for questionable reasons). That road is specific to them both because they are a mirroring one another.

Karlach aside, the thing is that in terms of narrative growth and storyline, this first night is the starting point of his healing journey. For the first time in 200 years, he has sex in a safe environment. For the first time, he finds a partner who trusts him enough to sleep with him even though they know he’s a vampire who could bite them. For the first time in his existence he can have real fun while having sex, he can be silly and roll on the ground. And maybe during this moment, he’s no longer the “sexy vampire” but just a man frolicking in the forest with someone he's attracted to. And again, it's still his decision, no matter how "bad" his motivations are. We should give him some credit.

I think it’s a brave move from Larian to put the players in that situation, to make them face the harsh reality of trauma. The harsh reality of being with someone who has such complicated feelings towards sex because of their trauma. It’s real. Very real. And it feels good to be seen.

You don’t always know the past of your sexual partners. You don’t always know what’s in their mind when you’re sleeping together. And if you happen to learn the harsh truth, it stings.

The Act 2 confession wouldn't be such a powerful scene without the first night. Astarion wouldn't have appeared so brave. Telling the PC about his former motivations must have been incredibly difficult, telling them "I wanted it but wasn't really into it" is freaking brave, and it's a token of trust he gives to the PC. Without that first night, it would have fallen flat. The PC would have just felt some kind of pride for not falling for his flirting and...that's it. Good, have a medal. Instead, the narrative puts the PC in an uncomfortable position, asking them: "Can you accept that? Because that's what trauma looks like and it's ugly."

That first night is inherent to Astarion's storyline, and to its message. That man goes from someone whose only reason to exist is being a sensual, sexual being in a cruel environment - someone who cannot connect with others without sex - to a man who finds out that he’s more than that, that sex doesn’t have to be dangerous, that’s it’s so much more than a game of power. And when you compare his grandiloquent attitude during that first night to his behaviour in the graveyard scene, it’s even more telling.

Those two scenes need to exist side by side to make sense, to reveal the evolution.

Everything about him in the graveyard scene - his body language, the look in his eyes, his voice - is a reversed image of that first night. He’s at peace, he doesn’t have to use those stupid lines about “mutual ecstasy” and how he will “taste you”, he doesn’t look down on the PC or look away. He looks into their eyes and tells them with his own words that he’d love to have sex with them.

But you have to experience both situations for the graveyard one to be so powerful. To witness that beautiful evolution. And Astarion too; he has to experience a “not so real” night with the PC to know that he wants something real with them.

It makes it all the more meaningful and sweeter. And imo, the graveyard scene is so freaking hot! Much more than that first night! Because it's genuine. It’s simple. He knows what he wants, his motivations are clear. It’s a man telling his lover “I want you”. A man who's learning to decipher what he really wants and to express it. And it’s more than enough.

[Let’s be honest, it’s been quite challenging to write all this. I rarely talk about my past online (for obvious reasons) and this scene means so much to me. Analysing it feels a little bit like analysing myself. And if you ever went through therapy, you know how hard it is xD In any case, that’s still my pov, based on my personal experience. I don’t pretend I hold the keys to a universal truth about it. We all have our own experience and sensibilities, and all of them are valid, even if we don’t agree in our interpretations.]

Thank you again @rivereverie for giving me the opportunity to dig into all this. I hope my humble opinion will help.

Last thing, some time ago I wrote a short fic about Astarion’s preparing himself for that first night, and it’s here.

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sminny-wew · 3 months ago

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This is all just my own speculation, but I think Howdy might be next on the Witnessing The Horrors train. And I don't have an explanation for it rn but based on the recurring presence of the Buggle, I strongly feel like Barnaby's going to be involved somehow since he's Howdy's best customer (something something watchdog)

(Putting this under a Read More b/c I wound up having a lot to say)

Eddie's moment in the Homewarming update was based around him not knowing what to do with himself when he's not being the mailman, the role he was made for. Poppy's moment in the first Looky-Loo mini-update strikes me as being about her not knowing how not to be a big chicken (the role she was made for), as well as the other neighbors not knowing how to include her and thinking it's better to just trap her in her own house than to compromise with her, making her nerves worse as a result. Julie's moment in the Springtime Salutations update was about her insecurities in her relationships with her family and Frank, her insecurity in her roles (make the flowers bloom, invent new games, and overall be the most joyful neighbor), and not knowing what to do when spring comes early or a flower just won't bloom no matter what she does.

Howdy's role is to be a businessman, to supply his neighbors with what they need and sell them what they don't. My guess is that Howdy's moment will have something to do with supply and demand, his job and his personal life becoming indistinguishable from each other, and the pressure that family, customers, and superiors can put on a person to meet certain expectations. I also highly suspect, based on other people's observations about the flower from Julie's hidden videos resembling the logo, that Marlo will be relevant again.

There's an old saying about employment that goes, "If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life." But in-universe, Welcome Home is a product of its time (1969-1974), when America was kinda-sorta still riding the high of its post-World War 2 economic prosperity but was beginning to see a rise in income inequality. (What a funny coincidence that Welcome Home presumably aired while Nixon was president...) I don't think I need to tell you that, in 2025, it's harder than ever to find successful, long-term employment that will earn you a livable wage without working yourself to death or requiring a college degree that will plunge you into lifelong debt. Things have changed a lot since the neighborhood left the airwaves (assuming WH was ever even a real show in-universe).

But I digress. Howdy Pillar's Going Through The Horrors™ moment.

What happens to Howdy when his best customer (Barnaby) is preoccupied, either by sickness or a prior engagement? Do his nerves about financial success ever stress him out, as implied in that image of him and Anthony Rancho? What happens when Howdy cannot meet the demands of his neighbors to supply them with what they need? How would Howdy react if the neighbors suddenly decided to make their own resources, instead of buying from him?

If Howdy's not a breadwinner, appeasing his family and the businessmen at Marlo by selling enough goods to be considered a profitable business investment well off, then who is he?

He doesn't know.

#welcome home #welcome home spoilers #howdy pillar #barnaby b beagle #anthony rancho #FOR THE RECORD IDK IF ANTHONY RANCHO WILL BE A SIGNIFICANT CHARACTER OUTSIDE OF THAT AD FOR THE WH STORE #I JUST THINK HE REALLY EMBODIES THE POINT I WAS TRYING TO GET AT WITH HOWDY'S CONFLICT

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nosyp · 3 months ago

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Like a Deer Caught in Headlights

Warnings = rape/noncon, polyamorous relationship, promiscuous reader, mentions of death, mentions of self harm, starving yourself

Pairing = Dark! LADS men + mc x bratty fem! reader

Summary = You come back to the city where you've left all of your memories. But it's sad to say that the memories wanted to do more than welcome you back.

Word count = 9.4k words

A/N = Can you guess what I used as inspiration for this? *wink*

⚠️Remember pressing "Keep reading" means that you chose to read this on your own discretion, don't attack me.

“She’s back.”

“Y/n’s back.”

“Oh my y/n.”

You surely got the whole town talking huh.

TheArchivist07 Post #001 April 13th. 7:11AM. She’s spotted at the train station, perfume still as usual. Smile still stitched with silk and sin. But don’t be fooled by the innocence in her eyes. We remember. And we saw what she left behind: the boy with bruised knuckles, the girl who never spoke again, the photo that went missing from the dorm wall. Welcome back, sweetheart. Let’s finish the story. XOXO, The Archivist

A fresh new blog for a fresh new girl. Nobody knew who was behind the infamous blog who documented your every move, but if keeping their identity anonymous is what it would cost to get news about you, everyone would take up that offer.

After all, you’re the one who decided to cause havoc and suddenly disappear. Why come back? Here to finish what you’ve started?

Pictures of you at the train station from multiple different angles pretty much spread around the whole city. Speculations started— actually, way before you even came back. People made theories that you were sent to a troubled girls camp, that you were sent to jail for underage drinking or you were finally caught by the mafia.

The story wasn’t like that at all though, or maybe it was? Who knows? Only you do.

Anyways, you disappeared 8 years ago, now everyone is out of high school and at their own jobs.

“Hey MC,” you said into the phone.

“...” you hear nothing from the other side… besides really heavy breathing. Then you hear her swallowing her saliva. “Y/n?”

“Missed me? I bet you did. Can we meet tomorrow at that famous cafe? I’ve been dying to go there and I already booked a reservation so if I don’t see you there… Anyways, see ya!” you say, hanging up the phone.

You [8:49 AM]: Oh and bring your friends too. See you~

“Is she really back?” MC breathed, staring at her phone. She’s pale white at this point, seeming like she'd just seen a ghost.

You still have some time, might as well spend it doing what you did best: create drama.

Later on that night, you’d visit the one club you’ve always loved to go to ever since you were in middle school actually. People used to call it a “whorehouse” since that was where all the hookups were stationed. You still remember it as clear as day. That was also the place where you had your first time— with a random man that you’d just met but it was spectacular nonetheless.

You just had to hope it was the same as you’d remember— or maybe even better.

Arriving at the place, the music at the party was just as loud as usual, practically beating inside your ears, and you can see a cute guy hustling between his friends on the side. He’s wearing a suit and tie with… a ring on his finger. It wasn’t just some sort of friendship ring or nothing, it had a decently sized diamond and you could’ve sworn you saw it at one of the fancy jewelry stores around town.

So you decided to go up to him and try your luck. “Hey handsome,”

“Hey beautiful,” he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap yours around his neck. “What are you doing here~?”

“Nothing… just looking for… some fun is all.” you giggle. Then, you whisper into his ears: “Some fun with you maybe?”

“Alright, why don’t we—” you interrupt him with a rough kiss on his lips. Your tongue swirls in his mouth, trying to desperately taste him as he lightly pulls you in closer.

“Y/n?” a guy’s voice calls you out, rapidly pulling you two out of the kiss.

“I-I’m sorry… who are…” you turn around, to be met with one of your other childhood friends— Caleb.

“Who’s that…?” the older man behind you asks.

“N-nobody… just some guy I know. Give me a second.” you drag Caleb to somewhere more quiet.

You finally let go of your tight grasp around his arm and the first words to come out of your mouth was, “Caleb what the hell?”

“No— you what the hell? You disappeared for how many—? That’s right, 8 years ago. Now the first impression I have of you is you fucking a much much older guy. Do you even know how old he is?” his voice is scary. He’s practically screaming silently at you.

“I don’t know— I’d guess 40? But why do you care anyway? It’s not like you even cared when I disappeared.” you replied.

“Y/n. This is like your first week in the city— heck— it might even be your first day. So why are you already messing around like this? I thought for 8 years, maybe you’d have gotten better but… maybe you haven’t.” he asks.

The words hit you like a slap. Nobody back in your old city, where you were at for 8 years, dared to even talk back to you, not even try to go against you. So it’s unfortunate for you to cross paths with a guy who wasn’t even a tiny bit scared of you. Yes, you were mean back then too but not mean enough to him to make him shiver in your presence.

“Caleb, you know NOTHING about me so why are you acting like my parents? Me leaving for 8 years made you a good for nothing loser who spends time complaining rather than making something of his life?” you angrily respond.

“What the fuck?” he then angrily storms out of the club.

TheArchivist07 Post #002 April 13th. 8:00PM. Careful y/n, you can’t be making trouble on your first day back.

—

You’d woken up the next day in a really really sour mood, not just because of that stupid argument with Caleb but also because you didn’t even get a chance to continue your rendezvous with the guy since he disappeared the moment you came back.

Oh! But today was the day you were supposed to meet up with MC and her supposed new friends.

TheArchivist07 Post #003 April 14th. 7:00AM. Good morning y/n, We hope you have a better second day. Don’t start too much drama today. XOXO, The Archivist

You got up from your bed and immediately started putting on the new outfit you had just bought for yourself. A pleated, short white skirt with a matching white long-sleeved button up which all came together with a baby pink cardigan. For the accessories, you wore some small pieces of jewelry, a headband and a pair of black, mary jane shoes.

You’ve been trying different styles ever since you came back from that old city. It was a rural city that had basically zero to no shopping districts so you’d just had to rely solely on the clothes that you had already— which was much more than what the local kids had.

You had to move there because your dad got an offer to stay there for a few years and take care of one of the newer company facilities. It was honestly pretty futuristic, it’s just a bummer you weren’t really allowed to spend time there. Also, your parents said that it was a good place to “humble” you, that you had to see the reality of some people’s lives. But really, there is no humbling you.

You were a bitch: a bitch that can’t be stopped.

Enough of the backstory, you got inside the luxurious black limousine that you had missed for the longest time and took it to your next location, the cafe.

The cafe is new, and pretty much went viral. So you were excited to have two new experiences in one.

Arriving at the cafe, you could already see a huge line in front of it. People were eagerly waiting for a seat or even a chance to buy something… but all you did was just brush past them and make your way to your seat.

“Hey… y/n is it? Delighted to meet you.” the white haired guy beside you spoke up. His voice was deep, and… kind of teasing if you heard it correctly.

“Hey— yeah… are you one of MC’s friends? If so, nice to meet you too.” you say cheerfully. “By the way, where’s MC?”

“She’s a bit late so we’ll have to wait a while for her and the others,” he answers.

“Right, and I also brought one of my friends.” you say, feeling her presence coming. “This is Selina. She’s not gonna stay so this might be the only time you do talk to her.”

“Right. Good morning, Selina.” he says.

“Good—” she tries to say back.

“Yeah— you can go now. I’ll see you later at 5? At the place?” you interrupt her, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“S-sorry… yeah…” she quietly murmurs, then walks out of the cafe like nothing happened.

“Sorry if she was being annoying, she just likes to do that sometimes. Anyways, what’s your name?” you finally ask the question.

TheArchivist07 Post #004 April 14th. 9:43AM. Watch out, [Your initial] You can’t treat people like your minion… or maybe you can “I’m Sylus. What’s yours?” he answers. “I’m y/n. Nice to get uhh… acquainted with you…” you respond.

After some time, they all started to gather. There was Zayne, Rafayel, Caleb, and MC in exactly that order of where you were looking from (aka across) while you were in between Sylus and Xavier.

“So… nice to meet you all. I hope we can all get along for the next few… days… weeks… months… or years of my stay here.” you awkwardly say.

“So, what are you getting y/n?” Rafayel asks.

“Uh— nothing really. I just… don’t feel hungry but you guys can order freely. I’m offering.” you reply.

Zayne looks up from the menu. “Have you eaten anything before this?”

You look back at him. “No… not exactly.”

He seems disappointed when he says,”Then it’s not wise for you to skip breakfast. Might do more harm than good.”

“Why should I listen to you?” the words slip out before you can stop them. Shit. You were supposed to be nice. Luckily for you, he isn’t one to be easily offended. But you can definitely see the way MC raises her eyebrows and gives you a confused look.

“I’m a doctor,” he replies.

“Y/n— just eat, please.” MC finally intercepts. “You haven’t changed much these past few years.”

TheArchivist07 Post #005 April 14th. 9:59AM. You’d better watch what you say, y/n Or else you’d might actually end up in a troubled girls camp

“I-I’m sorry…” you murmured quietly. “That your life is so fucking sad that you have to order people around.”

“...” The silence is uncomfortable. Everyone’s just waiting to see what happens rather than making the first move.

Then Zayne exhales softly through his nose before calmly setting down his menu on the table. “You done?” he asks, tone unreadable.

You open your mouth to say something but your dear friend MC cuts in. “Let it go.”

Her voice is soft but firm. That practiced kind of kindness that always feels just hinted… at something else.

“Cuz you’ll deal with it huh?” you say, resting your elbows on the table and leaning closer. “You’ve been saying that…since when? And I haven’t even changed a bit. Give up.”

The fiery-ness was always something MC adored about you. Something about the way you had no respect in the way you talked to her flipped a switch inside her. She had somehow made it her life mission to “tame” you as if a million other people didn’t try.

“Keep talking and see where you end up.” she also starts leaning towards you. “I might not be so nice.”

You can’t lie. Her words sent shivers up your spine, and sent rushes of heat to your cheeks. “F-fuck you.” Then, you leaned back onto the soft cushions.

TheArchivist07 Post #006 April 14th. 10:03AM. The scoreboard is now 0-1 You lost this round y/n, Better catch up

You couldn’t pick a fight with them, you know why. You know your evol never managed to bloom ever since young, you were much weaker than most. Still grateful you even had an evol though, you felt bad for those poor peasants who weren’t as blessed as you so you never messed with them.

Without even getting the chance to order, MC just ordered a bunch of food despite not knowing what you wanted.

Frustration is bubbling to the surface now and you’re so close to blowing up on her but you decide not to. You hadn’t even realised your fingernails had started digging into the flesh of your palm until Xavier asked if you were okay.

Suddenly, MC spoke up. “She’s fine. She’s just salty about this— just like how she is with evol.”

“Y’know… I think he asked me, not you. So shut up would you? Plus, you’re not even paying for any of this so stop ordering so much.” you spat.

She looked at you, then at the waiter, then back at you. “I am actually paying. Waiter, finish up the order and I’ll pay right now.” she says, taking out her card.

You have a very visibly disgusted facial expression plastered all over your face now and everyone can see it. Unluckily for you, you’re in the public eye so you have to be careful… because the archivist will document everything.

The drama that you didn’t cause made the whole mood sour and none of you bothered to talk even a single syllable. The atmosphere was still tense between you and Caleb, now it’s you and everyone.

It wasn’t until when you all bid farewell that MC talked to you again.

“Hey… I’m sorry for before. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I just can’t help but feel… infuriated that you didn’t even change for the better. You said the reason you moved was to improve yourself? So where is it?” she started.

How was she saying nothing and everything at the same time? Every part of you ached to get closer to her, and the other portion begged for you not to even entertain her.

“But that’s what you like about me… You were smiling the whole time it was happening. Don’t lie MC.” you reply, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Maybe it is… dinner at 5 later?” asked MC.

Dinner at 5? You had already promised to go to a party with Selina at 5, what are you supposed to do now?

TheArchivist07 Post #007 April 14th. 10:47AM. So now the real question was: Who are you choosing? Your dear friend MC or Selina? Take your pick We’ll be waiting y/n

MC's POV

I watch her closely, standing there with her arms crossed with that same guarded look she always used to have. But her eyes. God, those eyes still have that spark. The spark that makes you wanna pin her down and teach her a lesson until she’s begging for you to stop. It's like nothing has changed but at the same time everything has.

She’s older, smarter, cooler. It feels like she just left me behind to pick up the pieces.

I couldn’t stand it. Every part of me wants to break through the walls she’s put up to guard herself. I can’t describe how much I want to yell at her, to tell her how messed up this whole situation is. How much it hurt when she left, how much it still hurts now. But I can't. I just stand there, waiting for her to talk.

I wanted to believe she’d changed oh so desperately. That she’d grown into someone better. But now, seeing her here again, it feels like everything is the same. She’s still her. The same girl who knows exactly how to twist the knife at the right angle to make me hurt people. But she’s also the girl I’ve always loved, the light of my life.

“Dinner at five?” I ask before I even think. It’s stupid. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because I’m clingy. Maybe because I’m scared what will happen to her if I’m not there. Maybe I’m just trying to hold on to anything I can. But all I know is, she’s never getting away ever again.

“N-no! I-I’m very sorry for today but I already had plans with Selina.” she says.

Selina? Who the hell is she? What kind of importance does she have for you to reject my offer like this?

Questions ran through my head at the speed of a million miles per second, and yet the name still rang in my head. Who the fuck is Selina?

But nonetheless, I calm myself down and reply calmly with: “Oh okay, see you next time then.”

And we bid farewell. Curse you Selina.

TheArchivist07 Post #008 April 14th. 10:50AM. Well Selina’s got [MC Initial] fired up

Back to your POV

TheArchivist07 Post #009 April 14th. 6:13PM. Wake up sweet y/n You’re late for your plans with Selina

Holy fuck. It’s over an hour past the time you agreed to meet with Selina. Shit shit shitttt… Why didn’t your maid, Dorothy, remind you? You already told her to remind you so many times but why didn’t she?

You hurriedly put on your dress and ran into the car that had been waiting for you. Why didn’t anybody wake you up? Oh— wait— Dorothy stayed back in that small town, city, whatever you called it.

Maybe it was your fault on your end, but at the same time it wasn’t, you just haven’t gotten used to not having assistance 24/7.

Selina doesn’t even look up when you enter, her fingers scrolling through her phone with the occasional faint click of her nails against the screen. The lobby is empty, everyone’s already up at the venue you’d figure.

“You’re late,” she says, her voice flat, absent of any surprise. She doesn’t even bother to look at you yet.

You stop in your tracks, narrowing your eyes. “I’m late? You’re lucky that I even bothered to show up at all after your little stunt yesterday.”

Finally, she looks up at you with a blank, unreadable stare. “You’ve always had a… habit of overestimating your position, haven’t you? You can’t just trample over everyone and expect nothing to happen y’know.”

The words sting more than they should, but you don’t let it show. Not in front of her.

You sit down, placing your bag on the table, still seething. “I don’t have time for your games today, Selina. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

She shrugs before resting her hands on her side with her hands, finally giving you her full attention. “If you’re going to want to keep your ‘queen bee’ title here, then I’ll let you. But don’t expect me to fall for it again. You don’t have the luxury of making mistakes anymore.”

Her gaze is cold, cutting through you like she’s already decided what your worth is. And you hate that she’s right. Because the truth is, you did make a mistake. You did let her get the bullet this time.

“Careful,” you warn her. “You’re getting way too close to the edge of the cliff.”

Selina doesn’t flinch. Instead, she relaxes her back and a subtle smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “You always did like pretending you’re the one in control. But deep down, we both know it’s always been me.”

You hold her gaze, resisting the urge to snap. She wants a reaction. She wants you to crumble. But not today. Not now.

“Well,” you say, your voice smooth, threatening too. “If you want to keep this little game going, I suggest you remember one thing. I made you. And I can unmake you just as easily.”

You can hear her swallow the lump in her throat as she retreats back to being your silly little minion.

“By the way, before trying to put me down, you probably shouldn’t be using an out-of-season dress. It doesn’t even look good on you. I’d suggest you take it off but really… no dress looks good on you.” you mention because how did you look better when you only had 10 seconds to change out of your pyjamas?

She looks unimpressed, and used to it. “And your hair looks like a mess. I’d rather you wear a cheap wig off of the street rather than the bundle of whatever is going on with the top of your head.”

“Yet it looks better than yours. You only talk when spoken to.” you firmly state, sending shivers up her spine.

“R-right… sorry. What could I ever do to make it up to you?” she asks you. An idea pops up in your head.

—

You drop the keys into Selina’s hand, giving her time to mentally prepare to do what you told her to. What did you tell her to do?

It’s nothing serious… only a few years in jail if she doesn’t mess up too much, no?

She twists the key, opening the door to the… art museum. It was a pretty famous exhibit of artworks made by the one and only, charming prince Rafayel. You did your research.

When nobody was looking, you took the liberty of “borrowing” Rafayel’s keys. The one you got was to the art museum and you left the house key with him, can’t play with him too much yet. You also knew that it took exactly 7 seconds for the alarm to start ringing as soon as it detected an intruder… or she could just be caught by Thomas. It was one or the other; only fate can decide it.

Once you saw that she was out of your sight, you fled the scene and started walking in the direction of where you came from.

“Y/n?” someone calls out your name.

Fuck.

“Yes?” you twist around to see who it is. It’s Rafayel, one of MC’s friends. You didn’t really remember him at all because you were way too busy with MC.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, confused.

“Nothing… just… I got lost. The city is so big y’know.” you mention, giving him the most innocent eyes in the world. “Actually, can you help me home? I’m scared to go by myself.”

“U-uh… sure I can,” he agrees.

The walk home was way too awkward for your liking, most of the time it was you two bathing in the silence but then there were the occasional small talk starter questions: “Soo… how was your day today?” or “What do you think of the city so far?”

Anyways, you were successful. You managed to distract him from the fact that his museum’s alarm is going crazy right now and the police have started to arrive. You know because there is a really odd amount of spam calls coming into your phone the whole time you spent with him.

“Don’t you need to go get that…?” he finally asks.

“Hm? What are you talking about?” you play dumb.

He looks at you confused, isn’t your phone the ones that have been buzzing and ringing the whole time? He replies with,”Y’know… your calls or messages? It seems urgent.”

Suddenly, you had a feeling. You were bored; you had time. God forbid a girl has hobbies. “Nothing’s more urgent than you…” you say, hands snaking up his chest to his shoulders.

“W-what? Y/n, are you okay? Do I need to call Dr Zayne?” he asks.

“Ughhh… that guy… I would much prefer it if you were the one giving me the checkup tonight.” you whine, starting to close the distance between you two. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you waited for him to reciprocate.

“Y/n, are you okay?” he asks again, still not returning your embrace.

You look up at him. “Yeah, I feel great— as I usually do.”

No words come out of his mouth for a while, then his lips crash onto yours. His lips were urgent against yours, like he’d been holding back for far too long. His hands finally settled on your waist, reluctant at first, but getting less and less slowly.

The kiss was desperate, both of you pulling each other in as if the other would disappear if you even loosened your grip a bit. Neither of you knew what the hell you were doing, but still chasing it anyway.

It tasted like heat and adrenaline and guilt. The flashing red and blue of police sirens barely visible in the far-off skyline, the chaotic ringing from your phone echoing through the hallway of your apartment… none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just you… and him… and the secret between your teeth.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless.

“Wow,” Rafayel mutters, almost to himself. “I… I didn’t think you actually…”

“You think too much,” you whisper, brushing your lips against the edge of his jaw. “That’s your problem.”

But inside, you’re already calculating.

Because while he’s melting in your hands, you know what he doesn’t. Because that museum of his?

It’s either been wiped empty by Selina, or completely infiltrated by cops.

And the real show hasn’t even started yet.

TheArchivist07 Post #010 April 14th. 7.02PM. R clearly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with

Seeing how the phone calls stopped, you’d figure it’s probably best to go back home rather than deal with the mess.

—

You close the door behind you with a soft click, kicking off your heels. The silence in your apartment is almost too loud. There’s no music, people talking or fights. It’s just the soft hum of the air conditioning and your own heart still racing from… everything.

Your lips are still tingling from the kiss. Rafayel’s kiss. You never caught feelings for a guy, so why do you feel like this?

You don’t know if it was a mistake, a game, or just another distraction for you. You don't even care right now. You toss your phone onto the couch, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then, your phone lights up with a soft ding.

MC [8.08PM]: Can we talk?

Your stomach turns. You stare at the message. It’s short. Too short. It’s either the start of something serious… or the end of something worse.

MC [8.30PM]: I’m not mad. I just need to understand. Please.

Your fingers hover over the screen, debating. Should you respond now? Or do you leave her waiting?

You sigh, head falling back against the couch. You’re tired. You’re wired. And now… MC wants to talk? Perfect.

Without even responding or replying or leaving her on read, you just go to bed, totally ignorant.

—

The morning sun slices through your blackout curtains like it has a personal vendetta against you.

Your head’s pounding. Your throat’s dry. Your eyelids feel heavy.

You groan, dragging yourself off the couch. The glass of water you meant to get? Untouched. The unread texts? Still there. The questions clawing at your brain? Louder than ever.

Ding dong.

What the hell?

You blink at the door, not fully processing it. Another ring. More impatient this time. You shuffle over, still half-asleep, and pull it open with zero grace.

And there your dear friend MC is standing in front of your door, looking… annoyed. Like she hasn’t slept either or something happened.

You stare at each other in silence for what feels like an entire lifetime.

She’s the first to speak. “I figured you wouldn’t answer if I tried to text you again.”

You rub your eyes, trying to make sense of reality. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Not until I saw you.” she replies.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Not yet.

“I just need to know,” she says, voice much quieter now. “Do you even want to stay friends with me?”

You’re clearly shocked by the question by how you flinch back, and start thinking for a second. Do you even want her as a friend? Or just some puppet that you can summon wherever and whenever you need her to?

Nevertheless, you just say the most satisfying answer that comes to mind. “Yeah… I do. What is this about? What happened?”

“I heard you and Rafayel kissed last night… and you can’t even bother to talk to me. I’m not here to argue, I just wanted to ask why you don’t even want to talk to me.” she plops down on your couch.

“I’m sorry, okay, I didn’t mean to kiss him. Do you ahem—… like him…?” you inquire.

Quite different actually, she likes you. There’s just some things that we keep hidden to ourselves that you don’t need to know.

“No. Just wondering why you’re avoiding me— like I said.” she answers.

“Well, since you’re complaining about all this… would you like to come to a party with me next week?” you immediately regret it. But it’s her answer that shocks you even more honestly.

“Actually… Why don’t you take Zayne?” MC proposed. “He’s been tense, so he really needs to loosen up.”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time and reply annoyingly, “Why don’t you wanna go? I mean he’s a good for nothing los—”

Then, she puts her hand on top of yours and squeezes tightly. Being the touch-starved you, you didn’t shove her hand away.

And, that’s how you end up bringing Zayne as your plus one for the masquerade. You had no idea how you were so easily bamboozled by MC but at the same time, she’s got you wrapped around her finger so easily that it would be weird if you didn’t take her advice.

With the assistance of Selina, you ensured that both you and Zayne were dressed perfectly for the event. You had also briefed him on what is supposed to happen in a masquerade and what he’s supposed to do. Although he said he gets it, you still feel anxious about it. I mean, what could you expect from a loser who hangs near sick patients all day— how do you know he’s not sick?

“Zayne, you don’t get it— you have to look perfect or else you’ll ruin both of our reputations in one go.” you explain to him to which he only replies with a soft hum.

“Sure… sure.” and that’s it. He didn’t even bother to look into your eyes.

You couldn’t ever express how frustrated you were but as long as it ended fine, you did great.

You were on your way home from picking up both of your outfits, then you saw a particularly familiar white-haired boy. You didn’t slow down, didn’t stop either— actually, he was the one who stepped into your path like the sidewalk was his personal runway.

“Hey,” he said, like he wasn’t the exact kind of person you didn’t want to deal with right now.

You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve rolled your eyes, kept walking.

Instead, you smiled sweetly and scanned his outfit. It wasn’t particular interesting aside from the fact that he looked like a mess— a mess you didn’t want to deal with.

“You look gross,” you said, tilting your head. “Fresh out the dump?”

He laughed at your words—because of course he did. He wasn’t the type to get offended. He was the type to enjoy it.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you missed me?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the bags in your hands. “New outfits? You buying stuff to impress me?”

You scoffed. “You think anyone would shop with you in mind?”

“Just calling it like I see it,” he said, stepping a little closer, too close. “Besides… I think it’s cute. You pretending not to like me and all.”

You leaned in just slightly and got closer to his ear. “I’m not pretending.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, smile sharpening. “We’ll see.”

And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that you let him walk beside you for the next block.

He wasn’t super annoying but annoying enough to make you have to sigh ten times in a second.

“Shouldn’t you be going now? Maybe getting a life— oh wait! You don’t have one.” you finally say.

He looks amused, he was expecting that from you. “As usual, you have no filter.”

“Ugh whatever, just get far away from me.” you say, giving him a disgusted look.

He chuckles lightly. “Okay okay, see you around y/n.” he says, waving goodbye at you as he walks away.

You don’t wave back. “Finally that bitch is gone” you murmur to yourself, picking the bags back up to start walking again. Selina’s already on the venue’s decoration duty so you had to take care of yourself this time. Oh how it sucks to be independent.

—

The limousine had stopped in front of the grand venue, only the low hum of its engine mixing with the chatter outside. People were flocked outside the door, waiting for you to come out to pounce at you with questions.

“Are you ready?” Zayne extends his hand out to you and you take it, going out of the limousine.

Flashes of cameras flood your vision, but Zayne’s there to guide your way. He swore he was so close to using his evol to cataclysm everyone on site from the way he was death staring everyone.

One part of the crowd was cheering stuff like:

“AAHHH Y/N L/N LOOK HERE!!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S YOU!!”“YOU LOOK FANTASTIC!”

“WHO’S THE HANDSOME GUY?!?!”

“I’M A BIG FAN!! PLEASE AUTOGRAPH”

While the other part of the crowd could be like:

“Y/n, do you mind answering a few questions about politics?”“What is your opinion on the archivist?”

“Why did you disappear for so long?”

“What happened when you disappeared?”

“What are your plans for the future?”

TheArchivist07 Post #011 April 22nd. 7:35PM. Y/n’s got the crowd excited After all, what do you expect from a queen bee's return?

They’re all similarly just looking for their turn to get their biggest scoop on you, but you don’t allow it. They have to earn it, and it’s not by shoving a camera into your face when you’re vulnerable.

Making your way into the safety of the venue, you put on the mask and started greeting everyone… with Zayne on the side just following around but did occasionally greet them too.

“Ooh, who is this handsome guy?” a woman teases. “Mind if I have a turn with him?”

Her tone is clearly joking, and you can tell she’s an older woman just looking for some fun so you don’t take offense.

“For all I care, go ahead.” you reply… jokingly? But you can’t help but feel conflicted about your relationship with him. You really thought you had no feelings for him, but something formed during the time you spent together preparing.

Like that time you asked him to zip up your dress when you brought him dress shopping. And when you almost tripped, he caught you right on time. You don’t know if it was just admiration or romantic feelings but you definitely had something for him, even if it was platonic.

Sad that he doesn’t think the same way.

At the same time, no matter how hard you tried to forget, he was still there— buried in the corners of your mind, the boy you had loved for what felt like forever�� right up until the moment he vanished. Why did he have to leave? Why you? Did he ever stop to think about what that did to you? Did he ever feel an ounce of regret?

But deep down, the truth gnawed at you. It was your fault. You were the one who ruined it. You were reckless. You were selfish. You were stupid.

And the worst of all? You’d do anything just to feel close to him one last time.

You spent years trying to deny it even happened. Sometimes people even felt scared that you were “talking to yourself” but you were really speaking to the ghosts of him.

Then, after some time, it shifted to forgetting it ever happened. It worked for a while before it started to come up again; everything reminded you of him. Everytime you’d see a guy with even one simple feature that looked like him, it felt like your whole world shattered when you saw them turn around and it wasn’t him.

Then, it changed to hurting yourself in the forms of starvation, wounding yourself, and even sleep depriving yourself. Nothing ever made you feel better. You felt like you deserved nothing while he deserved everything, you just couldn’t give it to him.

Finally, your parents sent you to therapy. Out of all the methods, it probably worked the best. They were glad when they saw you improving and just kept sending you there. Your last session was 1 hour before the flight back to the city, and you’ve never bothered to find another.

Enough of the sad, boring stuff, parties are for fun. You’re supposed to be all hyped and jumping up and down, excited for the activities. You can’t sour the mood.

Zayne— being the boring man that he is— just stayed on the outskirts of the party, alone. So you took responsibility and tried to bring him to the dance floor. But it ended up with you staying with him with the bartender.

“One neat whiskey for you sir, and anything for you ma’am?” the guy behind the counter asks.

“W-what… you bought a drink? Didn’t think you were the type to even drink.” you say. “Anyways, I’ll just take water, thanks.”

“Just that?” He raises an eyebrow. “She’ll take a whiskey too then.”

You suddenly feel your heart stopping. He was super insistent to getting you a drink. “Why’d you do that?”

“You need to relieve yourself. You look stressed.” he says.

“Ugh whatever. I can do that by doing something else.” you complain, leaning on the counter.

“Then, go do it.” he responds.

He’s so boring and stoic and dull. You were hoping you could change him but he wouldn’t even comply with one of your requests, it was probably you complying with his actually.

Once the drinks arrived, you felt your heart skip a beat again. You didn’t want to drink so early into the party; You didn’t even want to drink again.

Something about drinking in front of him seemed so terrifying, like there was a gut instinct telling you not to.

“Y/NNNNN! DRINKKK!!!!! TAKE THE SHOTT!!!” a person shouts from the crowd, and everyone turns their head towards you.

In less than a blink of an eye, everyone’s attention was on you now. It’s not like you weren’t used to it though.

“Ugh… sorry guys, I can’t… I really really shouldn’t…” you sigh, earning a disappointed whine from the crowd.

“Oh come on y/n, just drink a bit. If anything happens, I’ll be here.” Zayne says.

You haven’t drunk around people for a long time, terrified that it would happen again. That you would lose another if you lost yourself around someone else. It was the whole reason that you never dared to get too close to someone ever again: the world practically ended when it happened to you.

“Drink y/n!” the people all cheered in unison.

“Zayne please don’t make me do this, tell everyone to stop.” you beg him.

“Silly girl, just listen to everyone. It’ll work out just fine, trust me.” is what he replies with.

Reluctantly and apprehensively, with Zayne’s approval, you take the shot, chugging it all down in one gulp. You forgot how strong the burning feeling that followed was. After all, it had been a long time since you’ve taken shots.

For the rest of the time you spent at the party, you limited yourself to only 5 shots but you ended up drinking around… fifteen? You couldn’t remember, but Zayne was barely affected after ten of them.

Once you decided you wanted to go home, you told Zayne and he agreed. Then, you two went out of the party to see…

“Zayne, give me your phone.” you demand of him.

“Why exa—” he stops mid sentence as soon as he sees you take the phone out of his pocket.

With a quick flash of his camera, you take a photo of the scene before you. For some odd reason, you just felt really awakened once you realised what was happening.

“Hey— what the hell!” the guy screams… then his eyes widen when he realises it's you. “W-wait… nonono, what did you just do?”

“Took a photo of you— since I’m just… ugh… such a big fan and all… I bet your girlfriend would be a big fan of this too.” you say, holding up the photo of him kissing another girl.

“Wait.” he tries to grab your wrist before Zayne intercepts. He places himself in between you two like a barrier.

“Z, don’t.” your tone is firm. You can do it yourself, you don’t need a stupid man to take care of you and he knows that. He silently sends the guy a death glare and then moves out of your way.

“How much?” he asks.

“Oh—! Finally you’re asking the good questions. I knew that brain of yours was more than just for sex.” you smile at him cheekily. “10k maybe?”

“Done.” said the guy, the girl pretty much long gone from the scene.

Scanning his face, you see he’s glad. The price you set was probably pocket change for him so you did what any other sane person would do. “Actually… let’s bump it up… 100k?”

“O-one hundred k? That’s a bit of a stretch isn’t it?” he asks in a shocked tone.

It’s getting good now.

“No— not at all actually… but maybe you think your girlfriend isn’t worth 100k… Might as well tell her if you don’t value her enough to not hurt her feelings.” you reply.

“F-fuck! Fine… 100k. No more, no less.” he admits defeat.

“That’s more like it. I better get that transfer by 8 PM today or else… you know. Ta-ta~!” you bid him goodbye.

Hooking your arm around Zayne’s, you walk away with him.

“Weren’t you a bit too rough with him, my love?” he asks.

Honestly, mentioning it now, you do kind of felt like you were a bit too hard on him. But, cheating on someone isn’t exactly a good thing either. “I-I don’t know…”

“...” he says nothing.

“Be honest, do you think I’m a whore?” you suddenly start interrogating him.

TheArchivist07 Post #012 April 22nd. 11:27PM. As the saying says, “Don’t bite off more than you can chew”, y/n

He thinks for a second, looking up at the sky as if it had the answer. “Hmm, do you sleep around a lot?” asked Zayne.

You think for a second, knowing you couldn’t say no to the question. Despite trying to stop it, you never really stopped. “M-maybe…”

“Then there’s your answer.” he states firmly, with his usual stoic calmness.

Without even realising what happened, tears just started welling up in your eyes— droplets sliding down your cheek and onto the hard, concrete pavement.

Zayne seems visibly shocked as soon as he sees you crying. He didn’t say anything for a while, just rubbing the tears off with his thumb. To him, you looked beautiful crying— but not for this. He’d much prefer for you to be crying from pleasure rather than actual sadness.

“Z-zayne… everything hurts…” you manage to mumble in between sobs. “E-everything feels so— so— so hot… please make it stop…”

‘Did the drink I gave really work this fast?’ was what went through his mind, but you don’t know that. You never will. Using his hand, he feels your forehead for a fever. “No fever, you don’t feel hot from the outside at all.”

But on your end, you felt hot— flaming hot. You didn’t know what was happening; everything just hurt really bad. It was as if someone was burning you from the inside with a torch.

“Can you walk?” he questions.

“Y-yeah…” your head is spinning in circles now; there was a high-pitched ringing sound in your ear that wouldn’t stop either.

In a panic, he slips an arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back before picking you up bridal style

“W-what are you doing…?” you breathe out, a bit startled but too much in a haze to care.

“Bringing you home,” he replies, voice low. He’s resolute, he thinks this is the only way.

—

The first thing he did as soon as you two arrived at his place was to put you down onto his bed… and get on top of you.

“Z-zayne… what are you doing?” you try to push him away, but he quickly grabs hold of both of your wrists.

“S-stop! Let go of me!” you scream.

He doesn't flinch. His pupils dilate and there’s a flash of something dark in his eyes… but it’s not angry. Just... intent. He’s intended for this to happen. He’s planned this to happen. It’s the inevitable now.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he murmurs. “You don’t understand what you do to me.”

You squirm beneath him, desperately trying to break free from his grasp which only tightens. There’s no malice in his expression— only a filthy, dirty obsession. Like he’s grateful you're here. Like this moment is something he’s been dreaming of. Like he’s been reciting this exact same scene in his head multiple times he could act it out to a T.

“Y’know you’re so perfect for me,” he gets closer to your neck, giving it a long wet kiss before starting to bite into the skin, leaving semi-permanent marks. You knew you were going to remember it, even if it faded away.

“You were made for me, molded for me, shaped for me. Don’t you get it? This is fate. I know you don’t see it yet, but you will by the end of this.”

“Z-zayne… please… you don’t want to do this.” you beg him, but they just go in one ear and out the other.

“No, my love… I do want this. And you’ll want it to. I’ll make you beg for it.” he added, his voice in a dark tone. “You keep letting other men have sex with you— let me in too.”

“S-stop! Stop or I’ll tell mc!” you shriek.

He freezes in his spot, but not out of fear of being snitched… but out of disbelief. “My beloved… She helped make this happen… Wasn’t it weird when she told you to come to the party with me rather than her?”

That’s the moment it all seeps in for you. Everything that has happened with all of them just snaps into place.

You didn’t know how long you were zoned out of it, because when you came back to reality… Zayne’s shaft was already disappearing into your body, kissing the deepest parts of your hole with every snap of his hips.

“Ugh… you’re so tight…” he mumbles in your neck, hand fondling with your tits.

Your dress was pulled from the top all the way down to your waist while your underwear was now resting at your ankles. Your bra was pushed up so high, it revealed the soft flesh that laid beneath it.

You couldn’t think anymore… you couldn’t feel anymore. The only thing that was able to process in your head was the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. It was passionate… slow… deliberate…

He wasn’t rough, he didn’t hold you as if you were going to disappear. He was loving. His touch was soft, caring to not to break you, as if you were a fragile piece of art. The rhythm he started with was gentle, letting you adjust to something more comfortable before going rougher. He knew you were still out of it, so he decided to be lenient.

If it were any other day, he can’t guarantee he would be as lenient.

TheArchivist07 Post #013 April 22nd. 8:12PM. Look out y/n, You can’t underestimate the determination of a sex-deprived man.

—

“So, you couldn’t find an actual proper way to have sex with me so you decided to poison me with whatever the hell you poisoned me with… and raped me? I don’t think you reali—” you turn around on your seat… to see… your parents?

They look disappointed in you, as if you’d just done something wrong… this time, it’s super wrong.

Slam!

The loud bang woke you up. It was just a dream… phew. You can’t describe how relieved you feel honestly.

You let out a shaky breath, but something feels wrong. It’s all off, everything’s eerily weird. The ceiling above you isn’t yours. The faint scent in the room, the sheets, the dim lighting… none of it is familiar.

Your pulse quickens.

This isn’t your room.

You sit up abruptly, looking around in a panic. The bed you’re on is way too soft, you usually liked it a bit hard and the room was too nice, everything was quite neat compared to the mess you usually had. You’re in a whole new set of clothes too. Who the hell changed you? You don’t see your bag or your phone either.

What the hell?

That’s when your eyes land on the phone on the nightstand. Definitely not yours. The wallpaper shows a not super blurred photo… like it was taken accidentally. But you know that phone. You’ve seen it in his hands.

Zayne.

Your breath catches.

You hesitate, then reach for the phone. You know it’s wrong, you know it’s invasive, but you can’t help yourself. Your thumb hovers, and to your surprise, the screen lights up. It’s unlocked.

Why is it unlocked?

You glance over your shoulder like someone might burst through the door, then quickly swipe through the messages. Most are boring. One’s from Sylus. Another from Xavier.

But then—

A message from a group chat named… “The y/n project.” There were practically thousands of messages sent in the group chat starting from… April 13th? Wasn’t that the day you came back?

You started reading the chats from this morning. The first one was sent from Zayne.

Zayne [6:36AM]: [Image]

Zayne [6:36AM]: She looked so peaceful sleeping. I could’ve kept her forever.

Sylus [6:37AM]: What if we just told her… maybe she wouldn’t run. But maybe I don’t want her to have a choice.

MC [6:40AM]: Bad idea… she’d run away, like the little bitch she is.

Caleb [6:42AM]: Let her run. I’d enjoy chasing her.

Rafayel [6:43AM]: We all know how this will end. She stays. She’s going to stay.

Caleb [6:44AM]: I don’t think she remembers what happened when she disappeared but we can’t let it happen again and that’s probably for the best.

Sylus [6:46AM]: Then we don’t let it happen. Do anything and everything it takes to keep her where we need her to be.

Zayne [6:48AM]: She’s already halfway there. She wants to trust us. She always does.

MC [6:49AM]: It’s cute how she thinks she still has a choice.

Xavier [6:50AM]: So when do we do it?

Then, nothing… You felt sick to your stomach. They’d been stalking and talking about you ever since you’d arrived.

Your breath hitches, fingers trembling as you place the phone back exactly where you found it. You swing your legs off the bed, trying not to make a sound.

You need to get out of here… like now. But then, why leave when things are getting good?

TheArchivist07 Post #014 April 23rd. 7:59AM. Nobody messes with a bitch and expect nothing in return What’s your move y/n?

You pick up Zayne’s phone again… and press the on record button. “Ngh~ It hurts… stop it Zayne… A-ahh…” you moan into the phone, anddd… sent.

You had no idea where Zayne even was, he could literally be anywhere in and out of the house.

The phone flooded with texts and calls but you couldn’t bother. Seeing how messed up they were, they’d probably be better off in solitary confinement.

Speak of the devil, you look up and see the doctor. He has a breakfast-in-bed table all prepared for you in his hand and the other holding the door open.

“Morning, sunshine,” Zayne says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze flicks to the bed, then to the phone on the table, and back to you.

You put on your most convincing smile. “You didn’t have to do all this for me,” you say, voice sugary sweet, even though you're internally screaming at yourself to punch him right across the face… but oh well.

He sets the tray down gently in front of you. “Well, after everything, you deserve to be pampered a little. Rest, food, peace…” He pauses. “Safety.”

You can tell he’s watching you carefully now, like he’s trying to figure out if you know something you’re not supposed to. Which you do. Of course you do.

“Oh, I feel very safe,” you say, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite like nothing is wrong. Like you didn’t just find out he and everyone else have been planning to trap you in some psychotic group project.

He sits beside the bed, fingers steepled in thought. “You’re shaking.”

You glance down. Dammit. Your fingers haven’t stopped trembling since you saw that chat. You quickly tuck them under the blanket and chuckle, “Just cold.”

He leans in slightly, close enough for you to see the shift in his eyes. That softness? Gone. “You were snooping, weren’t you?”

Your breath catches again for a second. Then you smile and tilt your head. “Is that what you think?”

He doesn't answer right away. His eyes move to the phone. He saw the notifications. He knows something’s off.

“I just want what’s best for you,” he murmurs.

“Funny,” you reply. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

And just like that, the game resets. You're not just surviving anymore. You’re playing.

“Y’know… when you’re snooping, you’re not supposed to leave traces.” he says, showing you his phone screen with the voice message you sent.

You giggle awkwardly, then you make a break for it, but Zayne moves fast, slamming the door shut with his body. His eyes don’t even blink.

“You think we didn’t know what you’d do once you saw the chat?” he says, voice low.

Footsteps echo down the hallway outside the room.

“Zayne,” a familiar voice calls. MC. “She saw it, didn’t she?”

Zayne smirks slightly, he’s full on smiling if you were to squint. “Mmhm. Just like we planned.”

The door opens behind him, and in walk Sylus and Xavier, followed by Caleb and Rafayel, all calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that feels like a trap shutting. MC is the last to enter.

“You always think you’re the smartest in the room, Y/n,” he says, slipping his phone into his pocket. “But you read the wrong messages.”

Sylus crosses his arms, eyes switching between you and Zayne. “The real plan wasn’t in that chat. That was just… insurance. We knew you’d look.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed. That voice message? Bold move.” Xavier joins in.

“But you know what’s bolder?” Caleb steps forward, eyes glittering. “Thinking you could play us.”

“You’re not the only one with games, sweetheart,” Rafayel says smoothly. “So go ahead. Make your next move.”

You glance at the door, then at all of them. You’re surrounded, trapped by five men who know your tells, your past, your fears. And MC, the one who started it all, standing at the center like this was her little trap and you’ve just fallen into it.

“So,” MC says, eyes dark. “Wanna tell us why you’ve been acting so rebellious, so naughty? Or should we show you what it looks like when we all want to teach you a lesson?”

TheArchivist07 Post #015 April 23rd. 8:28AM. Looks like this is gonna be a long discussion for you y/n

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gotta-winwin · 8 months ago

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OT13 Reaction -- to you having a fan account

SCOUPS:

he finds it so incredibly adorable that you have a fan acc dedicated to them. he follows it from his burner acc asap, adding it to his list of accs he checks daily. is so surprised when he finds out that he's actually been following the account already, having been using it for updates on seventeen. amazed to know you're the one behind @ svtfanclub.

JEONGHAN:

teases you about it every chance he gets. he insists you're sooo obsessed with him and everything he does. you have to start second thinking everything you post about him, knowing even the smallest thing might set off a firework of omg you're sooo in love, at least hide it better. ik, ik, you can't help it. i'm irresistible. smirks when he sees you typing on your phone, fingers already itching to save the post before you've even posted it.

JOSHUA:

has a dedicated saved folder just for your posts. saves every single one to look back on later. brings them up in daily conversation randomly - you guys could be talking about what to have for dinner and he'd throw in a soooo i saw your latest post, the one with my photoshoot pictures~ turns red whenever he sees you thirsting for him online.

JUN:

singlehandedly turns your svt updates fan acc into a svt meme acc. he sends you exclusive photos of the members whenever he can, urging you to turn them into memes and to post them. cackles reading all the comments and only ever sends you good pics of himself. he refuses to be caught lacking.

HOSHI:

remember when hoshi spammed weverse with horanghae? he will 100% steal your phone and do that on your fan acc. accidentally stirs up speculation about whether or not you know hoshi or if you're trolling your followers. insists you post one photo of him a day, resulting in the acc being more of a hoshi shrine than a svt fanpage (oops.)

WONWOO:

lowkey impressed how routinely your updates are despite your busy life. he's a little embarrassed by some of your more....enthusiastic posts, but he appreciates the amount of love. ends up adding the acc to his phone so ya'll can run it together. he handles all the nomination updates and real other stuff - allowing you to spend your time posting more fun content about the members.

WOOZI:

doesn't really get the point of it. he does his best to understand the hows and whys of running a fan acc, ending up just telling you how much it means to him that you're supporting his work. gives you exclusive mini interviews about his creative process and songwriting, leaving your followers wondering where on earth you're getting these insider info.

MINGHAO:

touched when he notices you have dedicated posts to him and his art projects. scolds you whenever he sees you interacting with haters, reminding you that as much as he appreciates you defending them, violence is not the answer! he's always there to remind you whenever he feels like you need a break for social media, turning off your phone for you and proposing a day out.

DK:

cries as he scrolls through your posts, not being able to take how thoughtful and supportive you are. clings onto you the whole day after he finds out, whispering how much he loves you and how much it means to him. turns on notifications for your posts and smiles whenever he sees them.

MINGYU:

accidentally likes one of your posts thirsting over him with his main acc. panics and deletes it but it's too late - the ever-watching carats have spotted him. sends millions of followers swarming to your acc and he can only shrug when you confront him about it. claims its for media and promotion purposes. sends you exclusive gym pics and thirst traps for you to post - although some of them are too spicy so you keep them to yourself.

SEUNGKWAN:

has that iconic shocked expression when you tell him before taking out his own phone and showing you that surprise! he has one too. the two of you now sometimes coordinate your posting times and interact with each other in the comments. he will tsk with disappointment if a post doesn't met his standards. competitive ass turns it into a competition.

VERNON:

he's not surprised. you seem to know like everything about seventeen already, so it's only natural you help inform other carats! he'll send you trends he thinks you should incorporate into your acc and provides you with behind-the-scenes pics. gets you vip access to any event so you can grab those up close shoots of him and his members - nepo baby(?) at its finest.

DINO:

his ego is boosted to the max when he finds out. loves that you found a way to love him loudly despite your relationship being private. giggles to himself (although he'll never admit it) whenever you post about him and sends your posts into the svt gc for his hyungs to see.

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the-real-couchrat · 9 months ago

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Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Zest for life

How I think the Tulpar crew would make YT videos

Some recovered Curly art

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing AU #Captain Curly #recovered Curly #healing curly #healing curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #curly mouthwashing #recovering curly #recovering curly mouthwashing

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orionhelluvaranting · 5 months ago

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Like creator, like character

Isn't that interesting how every bloody time someone tries to call Stolass' out this frigging owl finds a way to justify himself or shift the blame?

"I would feel bad if I hurt you but we both know I didn't do that!"

"Cheating implies there was a betrayal..."

"I don't look down on you!"

"I didn't leave you, I would never, that wasn't my choice!"

And do you know who does the exact same thing?

Vivziepop by herself! 🌟

"You disapprove me for sexualizing the rapist and preferring to sell merch with him rather than with his victim? C'mon, guys, Val isn't real! He's Karen from 'Mean Girls'! Fiction is an escape!.. You're just pissy your faves didn't get merch!"

"I liked the post calling my haters 'subhumans'? Well, people are just 'exhausted of being attacked for liking a show'. My fans harass critics? It sucks, but my fans are 'scared to talk about liking the show due to the harassment'. So you're no any better!"

"You've found a plothole XYZ, inconsistency in the story, lame jokes or any other flaws of my shows? No, my writing is smart and logical, bc I said so! Learn to read between the lines!"

"You think I have favoritism toward certain characters? No way! Stolass and Blitz are BOTH in the wrong, I'm gonna show this! Millie isn't ignored by the narrative, actually I'm so excited for you to know about her more! Loona doesn't speak a half of the season because... it was easier on the budget. HB has steered more towards a male-led stories. It's intended this way. You're just misunderstand my genius thought process."

"That's not my problem", "I care about SA victims," "Grow up!" etc.

And I'm not even talking about the justifying/problematic tweets she simply liked 💫

This woman always has an excuse. For everything. Just like Stolass does. Honestly I'd rather not speculate about Stolass being Viv's self-insert (as other critics said long before) but that kind of behavior only confirms such statements. It's like they both live by this quote:

Say whatever you want but for me this is the main proof that Stolass will NEVER take responsibility for his own actions. Because it's seems like Vivienne has no clue how to do this either. She doesn't think she could ever be wrong. So she uses the same mentality for Stolass since he's her beloved pet.

And which one of Viv's excuses is your personal favorite? Mine is "We didn't ask anyone to redesign these characters, it's a choice". Sounds like "They should've seen that coming! It's their own fault they're harassed! What did they even expect?" for me. Just fucking brilliant! 😤💢

PS/ I haven't been monitoring Vivziepop closely enough all the time and maybe I don't see the whole picture, so please correct me if I'm wrong here but... I can't remember a single time this woman admitted her wrongness or apologized sincerely. Ever. I mean, if there's at least one case of Viv making amends or smth it would be nice, even if it prolly won't fix everything.

#helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #anti stolas #stolas critical #observation #if youve any objections please show the evidences #id like to see them /srs

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ssulvyyy · 3 months ago

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more than just a rumor

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

synopsis: when dating rumors between nmixx’s Haewon and njz’s yn spiral out of control, their every interaction—award show glances, viral livestream mishaps, and subtle gestures—only fuels the speculation. As fans and the media dissect their every move, the pressure builds until jyp entertainment makes a historic confirmation. now, under the industry's intense scrutiny, haewon and yn must navigate their newfound reality—together.

genre: idols romance, fluff, secret relationship to public.

warnings: social media rumors, fan speculation, njz being under jype to make it easier for me.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

it started with a glance.

the seoul music awards were always a highlight of the year for both nmixx and njz. however, this time, something felt different. haewon and yn had been positioned a few tables apart, yet the moment their eyes met across the crowded venue, there was a small but significant spark. It was fleeting, but fans caught it. And that was all it took.

the buzz didn’t stop there. Backstage during Inkigayo, the two were caught in a casual conversation. haewon had made some offhand comment that had yn laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners as they joked, unaware that the cameras had zoomed in at just the right moment.

within hours, social media exploded. fans from both njz and nmixx quickly formed the ultimate ship—one that had been in the making for a long time without anyone even realizing it.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE HAEWON AND Y/N LOOK AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT. THEY'RE SO OBVIOUS."

"THEY'VE BEEN IN EACH OTHER'S GRAVITY FOR YEARS, THIS WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAPPEN."

"BNZ x NSWERS, IT'S OUR TIME TO SHINE!"

at first, haewon thought it was just a phase. sure, there had been those lingering glances, the moments when she found herself getting lost in yn’s eyes, but that was nothing more than a friendship—nothing to make a big deal out of. or so she thought.

but with every fansign, every award show, and every backstage moment, the speculation deepened. fans were piecing things together—one smile here, a soft touch there—and it felt like the entire world was watching every tiny detail of their interactions.

---

a week after the rumors went wild, the tension had reached its peak. njz had a rare day off, and as always, the girls decided to hang out at nmixx’s dorm. it was meant to be a lowkey evening—movies, snacks, and a bit of fun away from their hectic schedules.

but when haewon casually announced that she would be doing a live stream for nswers, everything took a turn.

"are you sure about this, unnie?" bae asked cautiously, but haewon waved it off with a confident smile.

"it’ll be fine. i just want to check in with everyone."

the stream started smoothly. haewon greeted her fans warmly as always, chatting casually about the group’s upcoming activities, making a joke about Kyujin’s infamous habit of stealing everyone’s snacks.

but then, as haewon laughed at a comment, a voice rang out from the downstairs living room.

"minji, stop stealing my blanket!"

it was yn's unmistakable voice.

instantly, the comment section exploded. fans started speculating like never before.

"WAIT, WAS THAT Y/N'S VOICE?"

"Y/N IS AT NMIXX’S DORM? WHAT IS GOING ON?"

"THEY CAN’T BE JUST FRIENDS. THERE’S NO WAY."

haewon froze, her heart pounding in her chest. she quickly glanced at her phone—her group chat was blowing up with messages.

haewon quickly tried to cover it up. "ah, that was just someone downstairs," she stammered. " othing to worry about."

but it was already too late. the clips had already gone viral, and fans were furious. every single fan from nswers and bnz were posting their own theories.

"WE CAUGHT THEM, GUYS."

"Y/N AND HAEWON LITERALLY LIVE TOGETHER."

"THEY’RE TOGETHER, THEY JUST DON’T WANT US TO KNOW YET."

---

the next morning, the rumors were everywhere. dispatch was reporting on it.

haewon felt sick as she read the headlines:

"are nmixx's haewon and njz's yn more than just friends?"

---

just days after the live stream disaster, haewon and yn found themselves in the same situation once again—this time at the dolden disc awards. the seating arrangements were out of their control, and the two groups were positioned side by side for the opening ceremony.

from the moment the groups took their seats, fans were already buzzing. the idea of nmixx and njz sitting next to each other was too much for their shipper fandoms to handle.

"WE'RE FINALLY GOING TO GET THE MOMENT," nswers and bnz collectively shouted online.

as the opening ceremony began, everything seemed fine. The lights were bright, the atmosphere was electric, but then something happened—something that fans would latch onto for the next few days.

a staff member from the crew accidentally walked too close to yn, carrying a heavy camera. he was too distracted by his task to notice that yn was standing in his path, and for a split second, it looked like he was going to bump into her.

haewon noticed.

without a second thought, she reached out and pulled yn closer, her hand gently resting on yn’s waist as she guided them out of the way.

the moment was subtle—but fans saw it. the camera, which had been filming the scene from behind them, captured the protective gesture in full. yn looked up in surprise, only to be met with haewon’s calm, reassuring gaze. haewon smiled slightly, as if to say, you’re fine.

it was a small gesture. a seemingly innocent one, but to the fandoms? it was everything.

"DID HAEWON JUST PULL Y/N CLOSER?"

"SHE'S PROTECTING HER!!"

"THEY'RE NOT HIDING IT ANYMORE, GUYS."

the comments flooded twitter. people began to dig up every interaction they could find—every video, every image, every moment they had shared.

the ship wasn’t just sailing anymore; it was a full-on ocean liner.

---

the day after the golden fisc awards, haewon and yn barely had time to process what had happened.

the rumors were still rampant. fans were flooding social media, dissecting every detail of their every move. the press conferences were being scheduled, the questions relentless.

in response, jyp convened in a closed-door meeting to discuss how to handle the situation. the pressure was mounting, and it seemed like the right moment had arrived to make things official.

and then, a week later, jyp entertainment released their statement.

[OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM JYP ENTERTAINMENT]

"Hello, this is JYP Entertainment.

We are aware of the recent rumors circulating about nmixx’s Haewon and njz’s Y/N. After careful discussions with both artists, we have decided to confirm that haewon and yn are indeed in a romantic relationship. this relationship has developed over time, and we kindly ask for fans to continue supporting both groups as they focus on their music and performances."

the statement was followed by a press conference, which was a rare occurrence for a company that had previously been known for denying idol dating rumors.

during the press conference, jyp's pr team made it clear:

"we understand the interest surrounding the personal lives of our artists, but we want to emphasize that both haewon and yn have always maintained professionalism in their work. their relationship is something they’ve kept private out of respect for their fans, but given the level of public speculation, we have decided to be transparent with their supporters."

the press conference made waves across the industry. many felt that jyp’s approach would become a new standard for handling idol relationships.

within minutes, the statement was being shared by fans.

"OH MY GOD, IT’S REAL."

"WE WON. WE LITERALLY WON."

"THEY'RE FINALLY FREE. NO MORE HIDING."

At njz’s dorm, yn stared at their phone in shock, and then buried their face in their pillow.

"i'm going to die," yn muttered.

meanwhile, at nmixx’s dorm, haewon sat on the couch, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "well… it’s official now."

lily raised an eyebrow. "so… are you happy about it?"

haewon didn’t answer immediately, her eyes glued to her phone screen as the constant stream of tweets flooded in. she smiled softly. "yeah, i think i am."

#nmixx x reader #nmixx imagines #haewon x fem reader #oh haewon x reader #haewon x reader #newjeans x reader

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mercurialfeet · 14 days ago

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I recently finished Gideon the Ninth and almost immediately started on Harrow (put it on hold at the library and resigned myself to months of waiting, then saw it in a bookstore the very next day and gave in to temptation) and I'm being struck yet again by how much a narrator, or just a single character's presence in general, can change the tone of a story.

I'm only eight chapters into Harrow and it's slow going because of this, but it's retroactively giving me a lot of thoughts about Gideon. The first book is also gory, scary, sad, and confusing, but Gideon's humor keeps the tone from dwelling on that too deeply, and makes the moments of complete seriousness stand out more by comparison. (Which, judging from what I've seen of the fandom, is one of the main appeals of the book: the contrast between the seriousness of the setting and of the role Gideon and Harrow play, and the levity with which Gideon approaches them.) And the way she bounces off the other characters brings out elements of humor from them that we would not otherwise have seen, either meeting her where she's at or serving as a "straight man" for her to poke at. It's not quite as strong a genre shift as, for example, the presence of Murderbot in All Systems Red (which would have a classic sci-fi horror setup if Murderbot was not (1) present to save the day, and (2) narrating sarcastically). But it's still noticeable, especially when going directly from Gideon to its sequel.

In the interest of keeping the Harrow-reading experience unspoiled for new readers and preventing this post from consuming anyone's dash, I'm putting my speculations from the first eight chapters of Harrow under a readmore. I already know that any thoughts I may express about Harrow now put me in danger of hat-eating later, but hat-eating can be an amusing experience.

I miss Gideon so much, man. I had the knowledge that she was going to die at the end in the back of my head already, but I don't think I actually believed it until it happened, and I definitely did not expect... whatever Harrow is currently doing. Chapter 3 of Harrow destroyed me a bit, because Harrow's childhood was already a miserable experience and imagining it without Gideon is like staring into a pit. (It also hit me again that Harrow is seventeen and I have just enough life experience now to sit and stare at the wall about that. It's not even a "she should have been at the club" situation, it's more "she should have been at the mall".)

I'm currently comforting myself by thinking of Harrow the Ninth as a puzzle (this led me to notice the changing chapter header skulls for the first time, which led to some interesting realizations about Gideon as well). Harrow's letters to herself deeply intrigue me; there's a similar plot element in A Face Like Glass by Frances Hardinge, but it involves a minor character and is not especially plot relevant. I think it's interesting that Ianthe is so closely wrapped up in this - to be honest I didn't really care about Ianthe in Gideon, but now she knows the truth (or at least some of the truth?) of what's going on with Harrow when Harrow doesn't, and that makes her 10x more fascinating.

I also find it intriguing that Harrow doesn't remember interacting with Camilla; if the 3rd person chapters are an indication of what 2nd-person-Harrow remembers of Gideon's plot, I guess maybe she wouldn't have cause to interact with most of the other necromancers and cavaliers without Gideon? The main strength of Gideon's presence early on was that she actually got to know their fellows, and left to her own devices Harrow would likely have continued to do everything on her own until it was physically impossible.

Of course the most interesting letter title is To open if your eyes change. Harrow's eyes now are just black, which she believes to be Harrow black + Ortus black. If her eyes changed, would they change to black and gold? Is Gideon in there, just suppressed somehow? What would it mean if her eyes did change?

My current hypothesis is that the 2nd person narration is actually from Gideon's perspective. Most of my reason for believing this is for meta reasons (2nd person narration in prose is typically only used for very specific purposes, and one of those purposes is when there's another character who is divorced from their own identity but is strongly tied to you). But I'm perhaps overly fixated on the line "...you didn't know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though" from Chapter 6. If there's been any other hints in this direction, I missed them, but this is an example of Harrow not having information that the narration does, and that Gideon would. I'm still not sure how that would play out in practice, given that Gideon as an independent entity is presumably still dead, it's unclear how conscious the cavalier typically is within a new-formed Lyctor (immediately afterwards Harrow heard Gideon's voice, but even Gideon seemed to think she was a hallucination and she faded pretty quickly), and I have absolutely no idea what Harrow did to construct this alternate memory to begin with. But it gives me hope that we haven't seen the last of Gideon, and I need all the hope I can get right now.

now for some random disconnected thoughts:

Harrow kissing Ianthe may be the first kiss she remembers ever experiencing. That sucks.

In the epilogue of Gideon, Harrow refers to Gideon Nav as her cavalier when talking to the Emperor, and he is not surprised by this. However, in Chapter 2 of Harrow, the Emperor seems to believe that Ortus Nigenad was Harrow's cavalier, unless I'm seriously misinterpreting his dialogue. Does he know about whatever it is Harrow and Ianthe did? Does "Ortus Nigenad did not die for nothing" have a different meaning?

Something else that intrigues me is "ORTUS NIGENAD" in Parodos. In the dramatis personae, there's another Lyctor, apparently alive, listed as ORTUS, whose cavalier was Pyrrha. Are these two facts connected? My first hypothesis was that Ortus in Parodos had actually suggested that Harrow take Gideon as her cavalier, but that the memory had been altered when Harrow did whatever-it-was. But that doesn't explain ORTUS in the dramatis personae. This might be my soonest hat-eating moment, since I suspect we'll be meeting the other Lyctors in Chapter 9 now that we've survived the river of ghosts.

The false memories/alternate timeline also involve Teacher being a lot more open about what's actually going on than he was in Gideon. He also hands out the first key to the cavaliers instead of just the empty ring. Is this just dream logic "skipping ahead" because Harrow already knew these things when constructing the memories?

Also in this scene, Teacher mentions ten disciples (which I suppose would be five Lyctors?) rather than sixteen -> eight. Based on the dramatis personae, there are only five living Lyctors (three remaining of the original eight, plus Ianthe and Harrow). Is that what Harrow's new memory is based on?

Anyway as you can see I'm going insane about this tune in later for more of me losing my mind

#gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #mercury crawls out of its cave #harrow the ninth

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scriptedinkbyxim · 5 months ago

Text

Past the Finish Line: Into the Chicane [MV1]

Amidst the glitz and chaos of the F1 world and a very tense 2024 season, Max Verstappen and (Y/N) Sainz relationship faces a pivotal challenge. As racing pressures mount and emotions run wild, a moment of heartbreak leaves them questioning if love and ambition can coexist.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, So much Angst. Commitment Issues. Allusions to sex but nothing explicit. No happy ending.

A/N: Hi, Xim here. This is my first published fic and I hope you enjoy it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. This is pt. 1 of a three part mini series but can be read as a standalone.

Part 2. | Part 3.

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

How did we end up here?

It was a question without an answer, one that lingered in the silence between them, thick and suffocating like the humid Budapest air pressing against the hotel windows. The suite was bathed in golden light from the city outside, reflecting the neon glow of the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

Max stood with his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. (Y/N), across from him, arms crossed over her chest, blinking back the sting of tears that she refused to let fall.

Love was supposed to be a partnership.

It was supposed to be about growing together, supporting each other, facing life’s uncertainties as a unit. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much history two people shared, no matter how deeply they had intertwined their lives, love alone couldn’t bridge the gaps that formed between them.

It had started with something small. It always did.

A simple question, an offhand comment.

She had been scrolling through her phone at the hotel, the post-race adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. The results had been disappointing, and she knew Max was frustrated—knew the weight of the season was pressing down on him more than ever.

But then she saw the article.

Verstappen Focused on Career, No Interest in Settling Down Yet.

She laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how absurd it was. The media speculated all the time, twisting words, exaggerating things—but this? This wasn’t an exaggeration. This was him, in his own words, saying everything she had feared.

“You could’ve at least warned me before telling the world you have ‘no interest’ in a future with me,” she had said, tossing her phone onto the coffee table.

Max had barely looked up from where he was unlacing his shoes. “What are you talking about?”

She grabbed her phone again, shoving it toward him. “This.”

He skimmed the article, expression unreadable. “It’s just media nonsense.”

“Max.” She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “It’s your quote.”

He exhaled sharply, tossing his shoes aside before leaning back against the couch. “I told them what I’ve been saying for years. My focus is on racing. Everything else can wait.”

Her stomach twisted. “Everything else?”

He looked at her then, brows furrowed. “You know what I mean.”

Did she?

Because standing here, listening to him say it like that—like their future was something to be indefinitely postponed, something unimportant—it didn’t feel like she knew anything at all.

“Do I?” she asked, voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like I’m just supposed to keep waiting while you decide if I fit into your perfect little plan.”

Max ran a hand down his face, already exasperated. “Why are you making this a big deal? You know how important this season is.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I know how important racing is to you, Max. I’ve always known.”

It was the unspoken part that stung.

But do you know how important I am?

His silence answered that question for her.

AUSTRALIA, 2015

The first time she met Max, he was just a boy with sharp blue eyes and a cocky grin, standing next to her older brother in the paddock. She had been fifteen, barely old enough to understand the world she had grown up in, but something about him had intrigued her.

Carlos had been the one to introduce them, laughing when Max—seventeen and already making a name for himself—had barely glanced at her before shaking her hand with a distracted nod.

She had rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and muttered something in Spanish under her breath. Whatever it was, it had caught Max’s attention, and for the first time, he had really looked at her.

“You speak Spanish?” he had asked.

“She’s my sister,” Carlos deadpanned. “Of course she does.”

Max now had a flirty smirk. Carlos had groaned, but (Y/N) just laughed, not knowing then that this arrogant Dutch boy would become the love of her life.

They had fought before. God, they had fought. Stubbornness was ingrained in both of them, but this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t an argument that would end in tangled limbs and whispered apologies in the dark. This was something breaking—cracking apart at the seams, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it together.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper—something that made her stomach twist painfully. “You think now is the time for this? Right now, when everything is going to shit?”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, nails digging into her palms. “I think now is the time because I can’t keep waiting for a ‘right’ moment that never comes.”

Max scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, already damp from the heat. “So what? You want me to deflect from the championship with this? With fucking marriage and kids?”

The words were a slap.

She staggered under the weight of them, blinking as if that would somehow make them disappear. He didn’t mean it, she told herself. He was angry. Stressed. But the way he was looking at her—like she was asking for something outrageous, something unreasonable—made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“I’ve been with you for eight years,” she whispered, voice shaking despite herself. “Through everything. I have given you everything, Max. And you act like I’m some… inconvenience?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, and suddenly she was drowning in memories.

SILVERSTONE, 2019

The energy at Silverstone was electric, the summer air thick with heat and anticipation. The race had been brutal—wheel-to-wheel battles, aggressive overtakes, and tensions running high.

(Y/N) had been in the paddock, watching the post-race interviews, still grinning from the chaos on track. Max had fought like hell against Charles, the two nearly colliding more times than she could count.

Carlos, standing beside her, let out a low whistle. “That was some proper racing.”

“Some proper reckless racing,” Lando chimed in, shaking his head with a smirk. “I swear, those two act like they have a personal vendetta.”

(Y/N) laughed, arms crossed as she watched Max approach from the media pen, Charles a few steps behind him. The Monegasque caught her eye first, giving her a knowing look. “You should keep your boyfriend in check. He drives like a lunatic.”

Max, overhearing, scoffed. “And you don’t?”

She stepped between them, rolling her eyes. “Are you two seriously arguing again? You just got out of the car.”

Charles smirked. “It’s called passion, Dolcezza.”

She shook her head but smiled, glancing at Lando, who was already pulling out his phone to film whatever chaos was about to unfold.

Then she felt Max’s arm loop around her waist, pulling her into his side. It was natural, instinctive—like muscle memory.

She looked up at him, arching a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding Charles that you’re mine,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway.

Lando, never missing an opportunity, pointed his phone at them. “Aww, look at you two. So cute.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s go debrief before you and Charles start throwing punches.”

As the group walked off, she stayed behind for a second, looking back at the track. The adrenaline, the heat, the pure joy of racing—it was everything Max loved.

And she loved him.

Back then, she had believed that was enough.

“Do you remember Silverstone?” she asked suddenly, voice thick with emotion breaking the silence.

Max blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“2019. After the race.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Because back then, you wanted me by your side. You wanted a future with me. And now…” She gestured helplessly between them. “Now I don’t even know if I fit into your life anymore.”

Max stepped forward, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair, Schatje. You know I want you with me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Do I? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man who only prioritizes me when it’s convenient.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve built your entire life around racing, Max. And I’ve let you. I’ve supported you through everything, sacrificed parts of myself just to be what you needed. But when do I get to be a priority? Do you even think about a future with me anymore?”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Max exhaled, shaking his head. “I can’t do this right now.”

She flinched.

Not I don’t want to lose you.

Not We can figure this out.

Just I can’t do this right now.

And that was all she needed to hear.

She looked out the window as the sun set, trying to hold on to the remaining pieces of their relationship.

BARCELONA, 2016

It happened in Barcelona, after the race. It wasn’t anything grand or cinematic. No fireworks, no dramatic declarations of love—just two teenagers who had spent months circling each other, neither willing to admit what had been obvious to everyone around them.

They had been walking through the Red Bull hospitality area late at night, the paddock nearly empty. (Y/N) had teased him about his race start, and he had nudged her shoulder in response, grumbling about how she and Carlos always ganged up on him.

Then, suddenly, the air shifted.

She had looked up at him, at those sharp blue eyes, and for the first time, there had been no hesitation. No fear.

He had kissed her like he had been waiting to do it forever.

And maybe he had.

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head as if trying to take back his last words.

She let out a bitter laugh, stepping away from him, away from the suffocating weight of this argument. Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face, furious with herself for letting the tears slip free.

“I was there when you won your first race,” she said, voice quiet now, laced with pain. “I was there for your first pole, your first championship. I put my career—my life—on hold for you because I believed in us. I believed in you.”

Max flinched, just barely, but it was enough. Enough for her to see that he knew—deep down—she was right.

And yet, when he spoke again, his voice was cold. “I can’t afford distractions right now. Not with the way this season is going.”

ABU DHABI, 2021

She had been in the garage, hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The final lap. The final chance.

And then—Max had done it. He was an F1 World Champion.

She had barely had time to react before he was running toward her, before she was in his arms, laughter and tears mixing as he spun her around.

“You did it,” she whispered against his shoulder.

He had pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers, grinning like a madman. “We did it Schatje.”

At that moment (Y/N) felt as if they were in heaven, as if with Max everything was possible. Nothing indicated otherwise, she was in heaven and nothing could have prepared her for the fall.

Now she felt like a fool.

His words echoed in his head like torment.

Distraction.

That was all she was to him.

She had loved Max since she was sixteen. Supported him through every win, every loss, every moment of doubt. And now, when she was finally asking for something in return, he was acting like she was asking for the impossible.

“I’m not saying we have to get married and start having kids tomorrow,” she said, voice tight. “I’m saying that after eight years, I need to know if there’s a future here. If I even matter to you beyond being someone who follows you around from race to race.”

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You know you matter to me.”

“Do I?” she challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Max. It feels like I’m just another part of your career, like I exist to be there for you but never the other way around.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stared at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and suddenly it was so clear. There was no answer to the question that had haunted her since the fight started.

How did we end up here?

She took a step back, then another, and Max didn’t move. Didn’t reach for her.

And that was it. That was all she needed to know.

“I hope you win,” she said, her voice hollow. “I really do. Because if you don’t, then you’ve lost everything for nothing.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving behind the man she had loved for eight years and the life she had built around him.

As the door clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the ghost of her presence and the sharp scent of her perfume in its wake, Max remained motionless. The silence in the hotel room felt suffocating now, pressing against his ribs with the weight of unsaid things. I hope you win. The words rang in his ears, curling around his thoughts like a vice, and for the first time in his life, victory felt like a consolation prize rather than a triumph.

He exhaled, slow and measured, running a hand through his hair as if to steady himself, but the ache in his chest remained—something raw, something unresolved. He should have stopped her. He should have said something. But all that remained was the quiet hum of the city outside and the space where she had stood, her absence louder than any of the words they had spoken. What had he just done?

MONACO, 2024 – ONE WEEK LATER.

(Y/N) moved through their apartment with practiced efficiency, collecting the last of her things. The space was eerily silent without Max’s presence—no sound of him pacing while on the phone with his agent, no distant hum of the simulator running late into the night.

She had always loved this apartment. It had been their home together, the place where they had grown from teenagers in love to adults navigating life side by side. Every corner held a memory—a lazy morning spent tangled in bed, a quiet evening watching the sunset from their balcony, a passionate night lost in each other's bodies, the scent of Max’s cologne lingering in the hallway.

But now, all those memories felt like ghosts.

She moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer. His shirts were still there, neatly folded. She hesitated before picking one up, pressing the fabric between her fingers.

It smelled like him. Like home.

Her breath hitched.

She had fought for them. She had given everything.

And Max… he had let her.

She placed the shirt back, smoothing it down with trembling fingers before shutting the drawer.

There was nothing left for her here.

Her clothes were gone from the closet. The photos of them that had once decorated the walls had been packed away. It was as if she had never been there.

And maybe that was fitting.

Maybe, in the end, she had always been a ghost in his life—something present but never permanent.

She exhaled shakily, picking up her bags. The apartment door loomed before her, the final threshold between the life she had built and the unknown future waiting beyond it.

As (Y/N) stood in the doorway one last time, she hesitated—just for a second.

MONACO, 2020

The apartment smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the living room in golden afternoon light, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly beyond the balcony. (Y/N) stood in the middle of the half-unpacked chaos, a cardboard box in her hands, watching as Max struggled with assembling a bookshelf. His brows were furrowed in frustration, lips pressed into a thin line as he fumbled with the instructions.

"You know, for someone who drives at 300 kilometers per hour, you’re really bad at putting things together," she teased, biting back a laugh.

Max shot her a glare before tossing the manual aside. "I don’t need instructions," he huffed.

(Y/N) arched her brow. "That’s exactly what someone who definitely needs instructions would say."

With a sigh, Max slumped onto the floor, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this already."

She set the box down and moved to sit beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Maybe if you let me help—"

He turned his head slightly, eyes softening as he looked at her. "You’re really here," he murmured, as if the reality of it was only just sinking in.

She tilted her head, amusement fading into something more tender. "Of course, I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

The pandemic had changed everything. Racing was postponed, the world had slowed down, and in the stillness of it all, they had found themselves craving something more permanent. She had just finished her literature degree, unsure of what came next, but when Max asked her to move in, the answer had been easy.

"Are you sure about this?" he had asked her a week before, voice hesitant over the phone.

She had smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. "Max, I’ve basically lived in airports and hotel rooms with you for years. At least this way, I finally get a closet of my own. Besides, I can't spend another minute with my brother and Dad while on lockdown." She said with a laugh, Carlos protests could be heard in the Background.

Now, sitting in their new apartment, surrounded by boxes of their intertwined lives, she reached for his hand. "I think we’re going to be really happy here," she said, squeezing his fingers.

Max exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too Shatje. Me too."

And for a long time, they were.

How did we end up here?

The truth was simple. She already knew.

She had loved him more than she had loved herself.

Love wasn’t always enough.

People grew, evolved, sometimes in different directions. Some fights were worth having, but others—others only proved how much two people had already lost.

Love wasn’t enough for them. No matter how much they had tried, no matter how much she had wanted to fight for them, it wasn’t enough.

And with that final thought and one last breath, she stepped forward, closing the door behind her, and walked away.

#f1 #fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #angst #writers on tumblr #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen angst #Max Verstappen x Sainz! Reader #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n

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pedrospookie · 7 months ago

Text

I like you.

summary: Jackson!Joel Miller x Eldest Daughter Reader, Just an afternoon in Jackson, Wyoming with Joel Miller.

a/n: This is (kinda) the first Eldest Daughter Reader fic among a sea of others that I am currently working on. This one is for the Eldest Daughters™️ who were left to be their own company for a long time. I mentioned in a post a few days ago that some of these stories are a little self-indulgent, and this one most definitely is. I was always a kid who was left to play by themselves and who was often treated as a second choice or plan B. This is also stemmed from hearing “i love you, but i don’t like you” growing up, especially during my teenage years. I know that we need to do the work to heal, grow and love ourselves, but we can also allow ourselves to have experiences that help us heal or at least believe/find the trust that we deserve it (because we do!). Anyway, here’s a little bit of Fix it Joel 👷‍♂️ for the Eldest Daughter. I hope you like it!

warnings: mild swearing, hints at infidelity (not Joel), the reader having some (what i feel are) ugly guilty feelings, light smoochin. Fluff.

wc: 2.3k words

It was a quiet day in Jackson, the streets filled with the chirping of birds and a lazy breeze, cartoon-like clouds drifting through the vast sky of the flat lands as people blissfully went about their day. After a tediously bitter winter, the kind that nipped at your fingers and left a lingering chill for anyone who dared to venture into the tundra, the burning sun and fragrant blossoms thawed the people of Jackson, casting a much needed warmth and sense of serenity over the sleepy town of survivors.

Today’s patrol went without a hitch— the regular route was relatively trouble free; a few fallen branches blocking the trail and the odd foot caught in the mud posed mild inconvenience, but it was nothing compared to your life before Jackson. The river that flowed along the outskirts of the town had finally melted it’s final peaks of ice, and the meadow just past the gates to Jackson was starting to become lush with tall grass, wild flowers scattered across the soft bed like confetti. It had been weeks since an infected was spotted. The murmuring speculation across town led to a single theory; that the virus could not survive the harsh winter, allowing a decline in infected. Regardless if it is fact or fiction, you’ll take it. Especially if it meant getting home early.

While the winter may have been frosty and daunting, your heart remained warm through the tough season. A certain someone had slowly found their way into your heart, providing emotional shelter from the storm. One cozy, snowy night at The Tipsy Bison, bonding over a shared love of Fleetwood Mac and Johnny Cash, led to another cozy night sipping whiskey, and then another, and then another.

Joel’s companionship gradually seeped into your life. It was an adjustment, having lived the life of a lone wolf, even before the world ended, yet Joel filled the quiet, yearning space that sat in your chest. A space that had you had become so well acquainted with from a small age, that it felt odd to have it overflowing. From the minuscule gestures of affection, sweet words of praise, or the moments spent together in silence reading, Joel was unknowingly and steadily mending a piece of you.

The gates of Jackson groaned an achy greeting as they opened, welcoming you back into the arms of the protected city after your quiet day on the outside. The trotting footsteps crunched under the gravel roads, slowing as you approached the barn, the horses anticipating their stalls. Leaning up against the wooden frame was a familiar salt and peppered man, his broad chest and strong biceps tugging at the seems of his white shirt as his arms sat crossed on his chest.

“Welcome back, darlin’.” Joel’s thick, weathered hand reaches for yours as you dismount from your horse, waiting patiently for you to find your footing along the hay floor. Once you were firmly planted back on earth, Joel’s gentle touch brought you into him as he pressed a tender, yet eager, kiss to your lips.

“What are you doing here?” You smile against his plush lips, breaking the embrace to welcome his pleasant surprise. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I was doing some work at the barn.” Joel points behind him at the old structure before curling his fingers into your pockets and tugging you closer, his voice lowering an octave. “Y’know, the usual mending of hinges and fences and whatnot.” He presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Thought I’d stick around for ya t’see if you were free t’night?”

“You’re just in luck,” you say with a gentle poke to Joel’s firm chest, “my schedule is clear.”

“Mmm, thought I could cook you up somethin’ nice for dinner,” his musky voice hums, a taunting edge to his voice. “Maybe split that bottle o’ pi-not that I found last week.”

“Oh, now you’re just talking dirty to me, Mr. Miller.” You feign innocence, batting your thick lashes as your gaze leisurely meets his deep, chocolaty eyes. His pupils wide and hungry, taking you all in.

“Just you wait ‘n see how filthy this mouth can be, lil miss.” Joel muses, a faint darkness rounding out his husky tone. If this was any indication of the evening Joel had planned, you were all in.

Hand in hand, the two of you made your way towards the town centre, discussing the difference between a flathead and Philip’s head, how you spotted a fox fishing along the ravine, and the latest town gossip, specifically why Nick got dragged out of The Tipsy Bison last night.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding’ me.” Joel gasps, bewildered at the juicy slice of small town gossip you’ve shared with him. “After everythin’ Melissa did for him when he got shot by those raiders?”

“I know, I know. I would have killed you.” You mutter back with a laugh, a sliver of truth in your words that is not missed by Joel.

“Rightfully so.” He agrees with a squeeze to your hand, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief of the story he’s just heard. “These fuckin’ knuckleheads don’t know a good thing if it hit ‘em square in the face.”

Your attention shifts to The Tipsy Bison, very location in which Nick had been tossed out of less than 24 hours ago, as a familiar twang calls out to you and Joel.

Tommy stood just past the swinging doors of the bar, hand reached out towards the sky offering a wave.

“Joel! The boys ‘n I are having a drink later. You should join us!” He beams, motioning Joel inside as he tosses a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Nah, s’alright Tommy. I have plans tonight.” Joel says with a wave, “Thank you though!”

“You sure? Jimmy’s back from Louisville,” Tommy’s sweet, boyish demeanour is replaced with a cheeky grin, “supposed to be bringing some good shit with him.”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You mention softly, giving Joel a gentle shrug. It was amazing that the Miller’s managed to have friends in other cities among this hellscape. While it was exciting to have been met with Joel at the barn, you felt a weird sense of guilt for holding him back with your plans. Sure, it would be disappointing if he were to rain check your evening together, but you also could understand if he wanted to spend his evening with a friend who had made the several day trek to Jackson.

Joel couldn’t quite read the look on your face, confused slightly by your words and watching the gears turning in your head. He tried to pay no mind to it, looking back at his brother.

“We have plans tonight! But tell Jimmy he still owes me a pint!” Joel’s raspy voice laughs in response. He then shifts his attention back to you; his deep, oaky eyes looking at you with a twinkle. He gives your hand another light squeeze before slowly leading you back on your path home.

The two of you continue your walk back to Joel’s house, waving politely to neighbours as you pass by the once white picket fences and attempts at flower beds that lined their front yards. Joel could sense there was something on your mind, noticing how you had suddenly fallen quiet after running into Tommy. He kept replaying what he thought was a harmless interaction over and over in his mind, eyebrows furrowing as he dissected each frame as it passed through his brain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pop over and see your friend?” Your meek voice breaks his train of thought, immediately drawing himself to you.

“Of course I’m sure, sweetheart.” Joel smiles softly, immediately feeling relief wash over him at the simple question. “I got plans with you!” He nudges you gently with his shoulder as your pace starts to slow.

“I know,” you say, coming to a stop by the steps to Joel’s house. “But your buddy is in town, which the fact that you have a friend in these circumstances alone is a miracle, and you haven’t seen him in a while.” You sigh, pulling your hand from Joel’s to brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to see him…” Your voice trails out softly, catching Joel by surprise.

“Darlin’, I gave you my word.” Joel reaches back for your hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles across the soft skin of your palm, sharing a pleading look with you. “Plus, I like hanging out with you.” His gaze softens, lifting your hand up for a kiss before slowly helping you up the steps to his house, his grip keeping you steady as you make your way up the ancient stairs.

“Those boys are nothin’ but trouble and I reckon they’d give me a headache in more ways than one. I’d always rather spend time with you.” He reassures with a wink, reaching into his pocket for his house key.

“You like hanging out with me?” A sneaking blush comes to your cheeks, the realization freezing your feet to their spot on Joel’s porch. Why did this come as such a surprise to you?

Joel thought he had been very clear that he very much enjoys spending time with you— he saw you nearly every day. He would beg for an extra five minutes in bed together, and insist on walking you home from the stables or The Tipsy Bison. There had been several occasions where Joel managed to bribe someone to switch patrol shifts with him just so he could spend his day on horseback with you. Joel loved your company— your thoughts, your ideas, your dreams, no matter how tame or wild. He could listen to you speak for hours and never grow tired. Joel had never found someone so easy to be around, someone who he could be his whole self around. Why would he not like spending time with you?

Joel looked at you in a way that was difficult to decipher. Flashes of worry, confusion and disappointment passed over his greying face, the lines around his eyes deepening as each emotion crashed over him at lightning speed as his eyes searched yours, looking for clues as to as he how you may be feeling. Maybe he did say the wrong thing earlier?

“‘Course I do, baby.” His warm, thick hands finding themselves along the contours of your face, locking your gaze with his. “I love hanging out with you.” Joel says with an assuring yet short lived smile, his expression changing to one of concern. “Darlin’, where is this comin’ from? Did I do somethin— Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, no, honey.” You murmur gently, a small smile of your own creeping up your cheeks to ease Joel’s worry. “I just don’t want you to miss out on being with your buddies because you’re stuck with little old me.” You brush off with a laugh, attempting to look away from Joel, but his stubborn touch wouldn’t let you, coaxing you to embrace this moment of vulnerability with him.

You knew these roots had been insidiously planted decades ago, stemming from childhood, fertilized by chronic disappointment. It was something you were forced to endure for years before accepting it as your reality. It was easier to accept that you are just a convenient second option, rather than getting your hopes up to ultimately find yourself disappointed again. You didn’t mean to be this way, it ate you up inside that Joel felt that he was responsible for this fear trying to mangle it’s way out of you. He had never given you a reason to question his priorities, and as scary as it may be, you had to trust him. Trust that his priorities haven’t changed. He gave you his word.

“If I wanted to be with those idiots, I would’ve told ya ‘n worked somethin’ out.” Joel says gently yet firmly, tracing his thumb lightly across your cheek, drinking you in. A smile slowly spreads across his face as his eyes take in your features. “And guess what?” He whispers, breaking the silence, “I don’t. I want to be with you, spendin’ time with you, drinkin a bottle of pi-not and getting my ass handed to me at scrabble with you.” Joel looks shoots you a cheeky wink. “Now, I know bein’ round an old guy like myself may be a bummer, but you’re stuck with me, missy.” He clears his throat as his hands fall from your face, slowly sneaking their way into the back pockets of your jeans. “Not only do I love you, I like you a whole damn lot too. You’re stuck, whether you like it or not.” Joel shrugs playfully, his eyes softening from his playful smirk to something deep and sincere.

His words bring a faint blush to your cheeks and a growing warmth in your chest. He does so much to show up for you, but hearing those words brought you a peace that you didn’t realize you needed. Not only did Joel love you, he liked you. Quirks, baggage, humour and all. He embraced you for who you were and loved every molecule that makes you you.

“I love you, Joel.” You say softly, fighting the growing lump in your throat as you digest the kind words that he had just shared with you. “I like you too.” You add with a smirk, wiping the pooling tear from your eye.

“Good.” He says with a fondness, firmly pressing his hands against your backside to bring you closer to him. His lips meet yours in a soft, yet passionate kiss. Joel’s hungry mouth deepening the embrace as he searched for more, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his grip on your ass tightened. Your hands found their way into his salt and pepper hair, eager to let them get lost among his soft curls. Joel broke the kiss with a sigh, the desire in his eyes fighting with his sudden withdrawal from you. He slowly pulled one of his hands free from your back pocket, reaching back into his own to grab his key.

Joel slowly unlocks the door, lazily kicking the wooden structure open as he turns back to you, delicately pushing you forward with the one hand still in your back pocket.

“Now, let’s say we crack open that bottle?”

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