#and for me there is the added theme or element of abuse through the word 'churchyard' reminding me of the song of the same name by aurora | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peach-and-bugs · 1 year

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teen nat with “You look exhausted, you know that?” ?? (maybe pre-crash)

❤️Blame Game - Natalie Scatorccio (1996 pre-crash) x fem!Reader❤️

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disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

GIF by gayliennn

Summary: Natalie seeks refuge from the rain (and possibly comfort) after the death of her dad...

Warnings: canon themes: dead parents, spousal abuse, guns, general angst

Word Count: 2,539

A/N: Hello Lovelies! it's been a minute. I was so busy this past semester, but I'm now on summer break and I want to get back to work on my writing with requests for dialogue prompts with characters with Yellowjackets! here's my first dabble at writing for the fandom with pre-crash Natalie! I really hope you enjoy it, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading ❤️

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

It had been raining for most of the afternoon by now, which you had found strange given the sun being so high when you'd left school. But the rain persisted into the night and you now found yourself sitting at your desk, scribbling away in your diary about your day and just general thought and feelings. You'd found that even when you had a mundane day, writing was still good. It helped keep up the habit for when you needed the outlet.

You started to run out of things to say and instead began to chew at the eraser of your pencil. One of your cassettes played quietly in your walkmen, but you could still hear the rain’s muffled tapping on the roof over the song. However, as you moved to start scribbling again, maybe adding doodles to your entry instead of more words, your attention was caught by a different tapping. It was sporadic and out of tune with the rain and it paused as though some other element controlled it.

Cautiously, you paused your song and listened. The tapping started again, clicking against the glass of your window. When there wa another pause you made your way over to it and opened it with caution. You paused again, licking your lips and biting your cheek. Why did this feel like the start of every slasher movie? Maybe youde watched those Halloween movies too many times.

“Hey, y/n! That you?” a familiar voice broke through the rain. Without any more hesitation, your head poked out of the open window, hands gripping the windowsill as the rain began to wet your hair.

“Nat?” you called in a whispery yell. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night?” thanks to your porch light you could see her fidgeting, hugging herself as she crumpled under the rain. She opened her mouth like she wanted to talk, but stopped herself.

“Can I come up?” she said instead. You hesitated again, head going back inside as you checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning by now. Your father would be furious if he found out, but it was Nat after all, it was pouring and you knew she had to have walked here. You huffed, your brows knit as you nodded, ducking your head back into the house ans shutting the window behind you before running downstairs as quietly as you could. You quietly unlocked your front door, pausing after it clicked open to listen for the sound of any unexpected movement. When nothing turned up you opened the door just as Natalie stepped onto your front porch.

“Be quiet and wipe your feet,” you insisted in a hushed voice, eyes already training on the staircase once more. You unconsciously took her hand tight and sprinted as quietly as you could up the stairs and ducked into your room, shutting it with the softest click you could mister. You shut your eyes, listening against the door for any sign you might have woken your parents, but once you felt it was all clear you relaxed with a sigh and turned back to look out on your room.

“You didn’t have to let me up if I was gonna get you in trouble,” Natalie mumbled. She’d begun to fidget where she stood, her thumb stroking over the strap of her soaked backpack. She didn’t move from where she stood and seemed to avoid making eye contact with you or anything in the room for that matter.

“It’s running outside and you’re soaked,” she shrugged, eyes turning down to her dripping shoes.

“I don't wanna put you out’s all,” your eyes transfixed on her in the quiet. She didn’t look at you for any of it but in the short time you stood awkwardly in front of you you could tell something was wrong. You knew Nat well. Well, maybe not this Natalie specifically, but you knew the Natalie from middle school who had sleepovers at your house nearly every Saturday and loved playing board games with your family and stopping for secret ice cream with you on the way home from school. That all had been some time ago, but you knew her, and even with all that she’d hanged that Natalie was still in her. You saw her right then.

“You doing ok? You seem off,” you inquired, slowly approaching her like she was a skittish dog. She looked up finally, slightly geared by the sudden proximity change, but she relaced as your reached for her fidgety hand. She let you take it, watching the tenderness in your motion. She hated being fragile.

“My dad’s gone,” she breathed, biting her lower lip. She’d been doing it for a while now. The skin of it was dry and chapped, red from repeated tearing away at the layering resulting in a swollen tenderness.

“I’m sorry. For good this time?” you weren't sure that was the right question to ask. Natalie’s dad always had a tendency to come and go, but given her demeanor either it was over or something else was going on. She sniffed heavily and let out a dry laugh as she jerked her eyes from you.

“Yeah, well seeing he put a bullet in his head I’d say it’s for good,” she pressed her lips together, sucking her teeth at the bitter sting, and exhaled hard through her nose. She swallowed hard before she shakily turned her eyes back to you. She tisked at the expression on your face and felt your hand tighten around hers. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't unload on you like that I-”

“Hey, no it’s ok. It’s fine. I’m sorry,” you reached and grabbed hold of her other hand ans squeezed tight, forcing an awkward smile. “Do you want clothes to change into? You’re sopping wet,” she shook her head but you tisked.

“I'm getting you clothes ans you aren't arguing,” you turned from her and sauntered to your dresser, wrassling around in your drawers for anything comfortable for her to wear. Unbeknownst to you, Natalie was looking down at her hand, squeezing them into fists before she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans. She never liked clammy hands. You turned back to her eventually, shoving the pile of clothes in her hands. “Batheroom’s where it’s always been,” you pointed to the door that connected to your room.

“And feel free to dry off with a towel. Are you spending the night?” you rushed most of what you said, adrenaline pumping through you at an alarming rate as you tried to keep your cool. Nat eventually nodded awkwardly and made her way to the bathroom. The click of the door allowed you to let go of the hot breath that had been boiling in your stomach. Her dad was gone? Like, gone, gone. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Well, maybe not given how upset she seemed. You never would have thought of Nat to be the type to mourn her father, cruel as that may sound. And why had she come to your house of all places? She hadn’t talked to you in years. She’d gotten so committed to the soccer team that she’d moved away from you but here she was now, dropping the bomb that her dad had killed himself.

“You alright?” Nat opening the door and talking to you had pulled you out of your head. She’d dried her hair off with a towel and was now draping it over the floor to sit her bookbag on top of it to dry. Her brown hair was tousled and knotted from what you assumed had been her vigorous rubbing to dry off. She’d folded her clothes in a pile that she added next to her bookbag and stood awkwardly barefoot in a pair of old shorts and a baggy tee shirt that used to be your dad’s.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you smiled, standing again. “You want some socks? The hardwood gets cold,” you said as you actively moved to grab a pair of fuzzy socks you'd gotten for Christmas from one of your drawers. You shoved them in her hands before she could decline. She held them for a moment, unmoving despite the gentle sway of her thumb over the cotton material before leaning over to put them on. As she did that you took her clothes and draped them over the footboard of your bed to air out.

“Are you staying over?” you asked again. You knew if she said no you'd still keep her here. You didn't want to worry about her out in the rain again.

“Only if that's alright,” you smiled with a single nod.

“Of course. It can be like before,” you chuckled, turning to adjust things on your bed. You might have caught the tiny flicker in Nat’s lips had you been looking. But you hadn’t and climbed into bed instead, shimmying under the covers to get comfortable. Nat slowly followed but lay on her back over the blankets, folding her hands on her chest. You only watched her for some time, not knowing what subject to broach, if any at all.

“You look exhausted, you know that?” you eventually murmured. Nat turned her head to you and let out a warm sigh. Her eyes seemed sunken, bags growing dark under them. You wondered how much she’d been sleeping.

“That kinda happens when-” she stopped herself abruptly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” her voice lulled to a whisper as she paused. That pause felt like it lasted hours till she sniffled. “Maybe a little,” she swallowed thickly. You scooted in closer to her, reaching your hand out t her ever so lightly to wordlessly offer it to you.

“It was my fault,” you shook your head.

“Nat. you’re seventeen,” she sniffled loudly and quickly dried her tears just as they fell from her eyes. She didn’t look at you, her eyes transfixed up at your ceiling in a feeble attempt to keep herself together.

“I grabbed the gun. He wouldn't have had it had I not,”

“It’s not your fault,”

“He was beating on my mom again because I had a boy in my room,” frustrated disdain filled her tone. “And it’s not like anything was happening! I mean, it was just Kevyn,” she scoffed at his name. Unbeknownst to Natalie, you knew the boy had the biggest crush on her known to man. How she didn’t realize it baffled you, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment.

“But I grabbed the gun. And I left the safety on and he took it from me and fucked around with it,”

“Natalie,” you kept your voice low. Her breathing had started to flair as she fully cried now. You took her hand, squeezing it tight. She didn’t look at you but unconsciously clenched both her fists around your fingers, and brought them to her chest, pressing it tight to her in some kind of attempt to ground yourself maybe. “Natalie, Who had the gun?” she managed to get out. She sniffled again. She would have called it pitiful, but you basked in the sound. Not in a weird way, but because she could trust you with this. She shook her head.

“Did you shoot him?” her breath shook as she took a deep inhale.

“He did,”

“So, who’s fault it that?” she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she covered her mouth to suppress a sob. She let go of your hand and turned onto her side, leaving only her heaving shoulders in your view. You scooted out of bed, moving slowly behind her. She flinched as your fingertips made contact with her back, but you found she quickly relaxed under her touch as you began rubbing your hand in circles over the surface area.

“Nat, it was his fault,” you murmured. She continued to cry, curled into a ball on the edge of your bed. You weren't even sure if she was hearing any of what you said, but you didn’t feel you should prioritize that. You stayed that way with her for a while, till you maneuvered onto your side, laying behind her and wrapping your arm around her instead of continuing to massage your back. You felt her take your hand again, bringing your fingers close to her face. She seemed to bury her face in your hand in some feeble attempt at self-soothing.

Eventually, she turned around in your arms and found herself up close and personal with you. Thanks to the dim light she prayed you wouldn't see the red in her cheeks burning from the sudden proximity. She let go of your hand quite abruptly.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes darting away. You only smiled and nodded, scanning her puffy, tear-streaked face. Without giving it much thought, you reached forward, brushing loose, now dry hair from her face. Your fingertips skimmed over her forehead with a delicateness Nat couldn't find herself familiar with.

“You look exhausted, you know that?” she shrugged but locked into your gaze.

“I’ve always been like that,” she forced a chuckle but found you frowning. You thumbed away leftover tears from her eyes ans found your hand lingering. When you noticed you made the motion of pulling away from her but she grabbed your hand, holding it where it was. She bit her bottom lip, her brows knitting with overwhelming consideration till she hissed out the words “fuck it” and leaned it.

She’d let go of your hand in exchange for the back of your neck, which fit quite comfortably against the flat of her palm. She’d shut her eyes hard and had kind of clumsily crashed into you, definitely taking you by surprise. For a second it was quite startling, but you didn’t panic or pull away. But once you got over the shock, you relaxed into her, smiling against her lips, which given their chapped nature left a metallic taste against your tongue.

You’re hand, which had been hovering above the covers after being abandoned slowly settled on Natalie’s hip as you shut your eyes and you felt her exhale through her nose as the air flittered against your cheek. Yet, just as fast as she’d moved in she was done, leaving your lips to chase after her. Her eyes were wide and blown when you opened yours again and she seemed to have a grimace on her face.

“Shit, was I that bad?” you sucked in a breath through your teeth. Her grimace subsided and she shook her head, now looking confused.

“No. I was more so waiting for you to be pissed with me,” she admitted. You smiled and laughed quietly.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno, I kinda just did it and I didn’t ask-”

“Didn’t ask if I liked girls?”

“Do you?” she chuckled again, scooting closer to her.

I dunno, I might. I mean, I might at least like one girl,”

“That's so fucking corny,” Natalie finally smiled, letting go of a laugh in her throat.

“Yeah, but I got you to smile finally,” you squeezed her hip. “I consider that a win in my book,”

#fanfiction requests #fic request #◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets requests #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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bethhiraeth · 1 year

Text

A literary reading of byler

so in school (and outside of it) most of the subjects I am taking and my interests are some form of literature, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on byler from a literary analysis standpoint

when you are analysing literature, it can be divided into three major buckets: narrative, aesthetics and text. Let me quickly break down what they actually mean

Narrative: This one is pretty self explanatory. It is how the overall structure of the story fits together, including plot, character arcs, and all that big picture stuff that spans the whole text.

Aesthetic features: Also sometimes called stylistic devices, they are the artistic elements that contribute to the text, often adding new meaning/emotions/ideas to it. In the case of cinema, these are pretty much everything you see on camera, like lighting, costuming, props, camera angles, etc. Often these are used to establish literary techniques such as symbolism or narrative foils.

Text: This one is also pretty obvious- it is all the words and actions of the characters. Dialogue and movement are what primary make this up. Think of it as anything in the script (or what the actors say/do if it is improvised), and any directorial choices relating to that.

What I find so interesting about byler is how it has tons of supporting evidence in all of these. What you will see with most ships that are non-canon is that they have a few bits of 'evidence' in one, or two at most, of these categories. Within the fandom, steddie is probably a good example of this. In canon they are physically positioned close to each other a lot of the time, and a lot of their shared dialogue could be read as 'flirty'/having romantic connotations, so they have the textual box checked. However, there is really no grounds for thinking it will be canon (even putting aside eddie being dead) because there is arguably nothing that could really be considered 'evidence' in either the aesthetics or narrative.

Which brings us back to byler. I am going to list a few examples of evidence supporting their endgame for each of the categories just to provide some context, but this is definitely not all of it.

Narrative

In my opinion the most conclusive evidence for byler endgame narratively is the character arcs of mike, will and el. this has been gone over many times and there are many great posts that explain this in more depth, so I won't go into detail, but all three of them have been following their own character arcs since the beginning. in essence, will's is about accepting that he is not broken/a mistake and deserves a happy ending, el's is about finding her independence from the abusive men/other people that have controlled and learning to be herself, and mike's is about realising that conforming to societal expectations is not the path to happiness. they obviously each have other sub-arcs, but imo these are the main ones that are followed throughout the whole show.

Basically what this achieves is setting up a satisfying ending for each character. And really the only way to resolve all three of these in that way is for el to be on her own, and for mike to accept that he does not conform (is queer) and for him and will to be together. that is the only way. any other ending would be wildly unsatisfying

Other evidence within the narrative includes things like tropes, eg a love triangle with childhood best friend and seemingly perfect person, and how the best friend is always the one that ends up with the protagonist.

The overall themes of the show also tie into this. Arguably the whole show is about 'freaks and outcasts', and how "forced conformity is killing the kids". therefore it doesnt make sense thematically for the one (currently) canonically gay boy to end up alone and rejected after going through his whole arc, or for one of the main characters to have nothing really defining him as an outcast if he is not queer.

Lastly, to quote that one person, who the fuck writes a slowburn rejection? It makes absolutely no sense to drag out will's feelings for so long if they are not reciprocated.

Aesthetic

This is my favourite section for byler evidence. There is just so much of it. Which is extremely interesting because in every other non-canon ship I can think of, this is the area where they fall woefully short.

The first thing that springs to mind is the queer imagery constantly associated with mike. He is repeatedly placed in front of closets, his wardrobe is s4 is almost entirely the colours of the gay flag, he is associated with rainbows, fruit, triangles and words like 'men' and 'boy', etc. These were intentional choices made on the part of the production crew.

The blue and yellow motif also deserves a mention here as well, given how prominent the association with them is in their costuming, lighting, etc. There are many aesthetic devices that are used, eg symbolism like mike's flowers to el dying in her hands, byler always being blocked together alongside other couples, using the same music in a scene with mike as they did when robin told steve she was a lesbian, I could go on.

What is so interesting about these is how intentional everything has to be, especially when there is this much of it. You don't accidentally have a light focusing only on two character's faces during an emotional scene, or dress a character in a particular colour scheme or have them looking at another character's lips. With textual and narrative features, you can fuck up or have a coincidence fairly easily, but it is an obviously deliberate choice to have a character standing in front of an open closet the first time his girlfriend tells him she loves him.

Textual

These features are the most obvious to the general audience, so often they have to be a bit more subtle.

Every scene in the show uses dialogue and/or action, so there is plenty to draw from. The 'crazy together' scene is a really good example on multiple levels. Not only is it a very emotional scene that shows mike deeply cares about will via dialogue, the line itself (crazy together) calls back to the audience's mind other scenes that establish the word 'crazy' as a stand-in for 'love', such as the jancy scene in the police station in s1.

Additionally, a very clear shot is shown of mike reaching out to grab will's hand, something that is likely to be intended to be read romantically, due to the parallels with other canon couples.

The same could be said for almost any other 'byler scene'; "cool" "cool", "we're friends", the van scene, etc. Speaking of the van scene, all the lip glances are fair game to include in this section too!

-----

The Duffer's arent stupid. They know this stuff. looking at this from a literature student standpoint, saying it is a compelling argument is a wild understatement, and I am certain any reasonable lit teacher would agree.

We are not the delusional ones. At this point, if byler isn't canon the show was written wrong. Its as simple as that

#that was a. very long post #feel free to share your thoughts!#oh also i should probably add that i am in no way an expert so i could have fucked up #i just study lit a lot so im pretty confident in what i am saying:)#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers

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skz317cb97 · 2 years

Text

A History of Pain

Part 1

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 7.6K

Synopsis: You've come back to Korea to stay and start living with your adopted brother Minho and his friends, one of which, Chan, you can't help but be drawn to despite your brother's warnings to both of you. When people from your childhood and the things that happened to you keep coming up, you're forced to face things from your past and present. Will you be okay or will the time bomb that is your history finally blow up in your face?

A/N: 18+ only! You may recognize part of this from when I posted from my WIPs. This was the 'brother's best friend' story. I've practically been getting death threats from @jquellen27 any time I mention writing and it's not this story so I've decided to make it a series since it's so long and HOPEFULLY it will force me to work on it more. 🤞Anyway here's part one, I hope you enjoy and if you do please like, reblog, comment, shoot me an ask, I always welcome all of it!

Part 2👈

Warnings for this series: This story will have elements of death and flashbacks to abuse (mental, physical and sexual) throughout. It will not be explicit or overly detailed, but it will be a vital part of the plot. If that is a topic that can be triggering or make you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this series! There will also be strong language/cursing, adult content, and sexual themes throughout but not in every part so I will be adding warnings for each part accordingly. If I ever miss something that should be in the warnings, PLEASE let me know and I will add it! This is and Idol AU so while they are in a group together it is not Stray Kids, hence no Jeongin and Seungmin and even though a company is mentioned it is not JYP. Just for clarification these are characters and not ment to portray the actual people in any way.

Pt. 1 Warnings: Not much in this one really, suggestive but nothing explicit, night terrors depicted, mentions of nudity. I think that's all. Again let me know if I missed anything!

You weaved your way through the Incheon International airport scanning the faces in the crowd looking for your big brother, who was supposed to be picking you up after your eighteen-hour flight. What you found instead was a stuffy looking chauffeur holding a sign with your name on it. You walked up to the man and pointed at the sign.

“I’m Lee Y/N.” He looked at you funny and continued to scan the people behind you. You rolled your eyes. You had dealt with things like this your whole life, ever since the Lee’s had adopted you. Your family was Korean and you, very obviously weren’t. You sighed.

“Minho sent you I assume...” When you mentioned your brother’s name the driver seemed to realize you were in fact telling the truth about who you were.

“Yes, ma’am. I am to take you to the dorm where he will escort you to your parent’s house.” You nodded, tossed your book bag at him and slid your suitcase over.

“Whatever you say Jeeves. I’m beat let’s go!” He let out an exasperated sigh and lead you towards the exit. When you were settled in the car you pulled out your phone to call your brother and bitch him out for not at least warning you he wasn’t able to get you. It rang twice and he answered.

"Heeey Minhooo, landed safely. You forget to mention something?" Minho face palmed himself.

"I'm sorry! It’s been a while since you’ve been home. Things have gotten a little crazy. I had to send a company car. I’m so so sorry I meant to tell you I’ve just been so busy with work I forgot." It had been a long time since you’d been there.

You had missed Minho and your parents so much but you had been attending university in America and it wasn’t always easy to get back home. You knew Minho and his rap group had been doing well but when you were in your bubble in America following Korean hip hop groups, even your brother's, wasn’t on the top of your priority list. Whenever you spoke to Minho he was more concerned about how your schooling was going, if you were okay, and updating you on the parents and the cats. Not his career. You wanted to give him a little grief but you were too tired.

"It’s okay Min, don’t worry about it." You slunk down in your seat, giving in this time.

"Look I’m still at the studio right now. I’ll have to take you to mom and dad’s tomorrow so when you get to the dorm just take the guest room and make yourself at home okay? The guys are gone for the weekend. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving and I’ll take you to dinner to make up for it." The promise of dinner perked you back up, especially if your brother was paying.

"Okay, sounds good. Love you." Minho hummed.

"Hmmmm... ew." And you groaned.

"God you’re such an ass." He laughed.

"Love you too." You gave him a hum this time.

"Mmhmm that’s better. See you later." You hung up and looked out the window as you neared your destination.

When you got to the dorm the driver carried your bags up and put them by the door.

“Will there be anything else ma’am?” You shook your head.

“That will be all Jeeves thanks a million!” He shook his head and left. You typed in the key code Minho had given you and went in, dragging your bags behind you. It was a nice place but very clearly lived in by men. There was more weight equipment than furniture in the living room and nothing in the form of pictures or art on the walls. One thing they did have on the wall was a giant tv and video games piled up underneath of course. Off the living room there was a hall. You went down it and investigated. You opened every door trying to get your bearings and figure out where everything was. The first door you opened had a bed a dresser and more weights than the damn living room did. The next room was just a bed, a dresser, and a night stand. There were a few framed pictures and a book on the night stand. Minimal, clean. You didn’t even have to look twice to know it was Minho’s room. The room next to your brother’s looked like a clothes bomb went off in it. Jisung was the only one of the guys you had ever met and from the things your brother had told you about him this was almost definitely his room. The next room had a bed and a desk and a dresser but not much else, similar to Minho’s. Minimal and clean. There was a computer and lot of DJ equipment on the desk and a big set of noise cancelling headphones. You pulled that door closed and opened the one across the hall from it. A bed, a dresser, a night stand, and nothing else. This was clearly the guest room. You sat your stuff down and finished exploring.

Right at the very end of the hall was the bathroom. You cringed at the idea of a bunch of men sharing one bathroom but when you peeked in you were pleasantly surprised to see that it was rather big with a nice tub and you found it remarkably clean, although, with Minho living there perhaps it shouldn’t have been so surprising. He was a bit of a neat freak at times. You quickly peeked in the other two rooms across the hall. One practically looked like an art studio with a bed and the other had probably the most gaming equipment you’d ever seen per square foot.

Once you were acquainted with the place you decided to take advantage of that huge tub you saw and take a hot bath. You were exhausted and stunk after that flight and Minho had told you to make yourself at home. You dipped into his room and rummaged through his dresser looking for your favorite t-shirt of his.

You looked down at his night stand and saw the pictures he had set up. One of your parents, you and Minho from the last Christmas you were able to visit, another of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori all wearing top hats and bow ties, and then one of you and Minho the day you were officially adopted. You both had your arms wrapped around each other. You with a giant smile on your face, Minho and his permanent grimace. You picked it up and looked at it smiling remembering this day because it was the day you found out you had a REAL big brother and you were so happy. You fought off the tears of the memory, put the picture back, grabbed the t-shirt, and went to dig out some sweat pants and your travel toiletries.

You ran the bath almost hotter than you could stand it, added some bubble bath you nosed around under the sink for and lit a couple of candles that you had found under there as well. You climbed in and drew the curtain mostly closed. You leaned back in the tub soaking in the warmth of, not only the water but the candle light. You were just drifting into a quiet relaxation, finally, after that shitty eighteen-hour flight when suddenly that peace went out the metaphorical door with the opening of the literal door.

You were a bit startled to see standing there, absolutely bewildered, a guy probably around your brother’s age. Cute, broad shoulders, a mess of curls and confusion. Luckily you weren’t an idiot. Even though it was just supposed to be you and Minho you had pulled the curtain most of the way closed for just this reason, so now there was no way the man standing there could see your nude body even if you were fully submerged in bubbles. The curtain was open only enough for you to see out of as you laid there. The man stood there speechless.

“Can I help you?” You finally asked as he just looked at you blankly, his mouth agape. He shook his head and quickly looked away realizing he was staring at you while you were naked in a bathtub.

“I-I-I…” His ears turned bright red and he stammered until he finally cleared his throat.

“What are you doing?” You quirked your eyebrow at him.

“Well, I WAS relaxing in the tub…” The guy shook his head still keeping his eyes directed anywhere but you.

“No, I mean who are you?!” You sighed heavily.

“Who are you? You walked in on me?” He couldn’t help but finally look at you again. Your eyes locking, an incredulous expression plastered on his face.

“Yea in MY bathroom!” You shrugged.

“Fair enough but to be fair to me, it’s also my brother’s bathroom.” God had Minho not even bothered to warn them you would be here JUST in case? You suddenly fought back the urge to giggle when you saw curly had the confused face again.

“I think you must have the wrong place because I know all my friend’s sisters.” You shrugged your shoulders again.

“Well clearly you don’t because my brother lives here and I’ve never met you in my life.” Curly man shook his head.

“No sorry it’s just not possible, no one I live with is American.” This. Again. You shook your head sarcastically in reply.

“My brother is Korean. I’m adopted.” His face fell a little when you said that.

“Oh...” You could hear the pity in the two-letter word. You waved him off.

“Spare me. That was the easiest part of my life. Look sorry, I’m not sure why my brother never told you about me but I assure you he does in fact live here.” You were starting to get irritated with this guy questioning you.

“How are you SO certain your brother lives here?!” He was clearly losing his patience as well. You were good at wearing that down in people, though it wasn’t always intentional.

“Because JERK! He had a car drop me off here, I used the code to get into the place, and I’ve already been in his room and saw all his stuff. I snatched a shirt I bought him for Christmas, saw pictures of OUR family. THAT’S how I know. Now if you don’t mind I just got off an airplane that I was in for almost an entire day and it’s hard to relax when there’s a strange man watching me in the tub!” His eyes quickly flew away as if he’d just realized again that he shouldn’t be looking at you, even if the curtain kept you from being exposed. You were taking a mental note, two strikes now, you needed to give Minho a piece of your mind when he got home.

“Look I’m sorry. I-I... didn’t realize... I’ll leave you to finish. Sorry.” His whole face was red now. He left quickly and you felt a little bad for being so difficult. You could have just said your brother was Minho. It wasn’t his fault any more than it was yours that Minho failed to mention you would be there let alone existed and he seemed like he genuinely meant his apology once he’d realized his mistake. You sighed, blew out the candles and pulled the plug to drain the water. You got out and started drying off and getting dressed.

When you walked out you took your dirty clothes and towel into your room and realized the door to the room across from yours was cracked. You heard soft r&b music coming from it and someone singing. You walked over peeking in. Your eyes went wide and your heart rate picked up a little. Mr. curly man had his back to you, his shirt off, the muscles of his back flexed and relaxed with every movement he made as he folded clothes and sang along to the song that you now realized was Dive In by Trey Songz. His voice was pretty.

You bit your lip as he bent down, unable to stop yourself from checking out his ass in the basketball shorts he was wearing. God he was REALLY cute and the way he was singing that song made you feel things. You didn’t know what to think, you usually didn’t give two shits about guys, relationships, or sex but there was something about him that struck a chord with you.

He turned and you quickly ducked back so that he wouldn’t see you spying. You waited a couple of minutes, then tapped the door frame and pushed the door open a little more. He stopped singing and turned towards you. The front of him looked even better than the back and then you noticed him holding a pair of black briefs he’d been folding. Now your ears were burning red. You cleared your throat looking at the underwear in his hands. When you did he snatched the underwear behind his back, hiding them out of your sight.

“Ahem... Uh... hey. Um... I just wanted to say sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a pain in the ass. I’m just tired and grumpy from the flight and I was caught off guard, I didn’t think anyone else was going to be here. My name is Lee Y/N, I’m Minho’s little sister.” The man’s jaw dropped.

“MINHO HAS A LITTLE SISTER?!” You would have laughed at his reaction if you weren’t so irritated that your brother had not disclosed this information to everyone and you were unsure as to why.

“I’m Chan... er... uh, or Chris. Sorry I didn’t mean to shout it’s just he’s never mentioned you before. Wow Minho’s little sister.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not sure why he hasn’t, he has pictures of us in his room.” The gorgeous man, who you now knew was... Chan or Chris? He looked shocked again.

“That’s you?! Oh! I always wondered who that was in those photos! Lee Know is kind of private about his family life so I never asked. I just kind of assumed you were and old classmate or maybe an ex-girlfriend since he never talked about it.” You smiled at him.

“Nope. Sister. Either way, I’m sorry for the confusion and for being rude to you Chan.” He scoffed and flashed a bright smile back at you.

“No, you weren’t really. Also knowing that you grew up with Lee Know your reaction makes so much sense now.” He laughed and his dimples popped out. You couldn’t help but smile back. He was cute and sweet; you felt your face getting red.

Thankfully before you could complete the transformation into a tomato you heard the man of the hour come walking into the dorm. You went out into the living room, shirtless Chan following closely behind. When Minho saw him there, he got a very serious look on his face.

“What are you doing here Chan?” Chan scoffed.

“I live here Minho.” Minho shook his head.

“No, I mean everyone was supposed to be gone this weekend.” Chan nodded.

“Yea, everyone but me is. I had work I was hoping to do with a little peace and quiet.” Minho eyed shirtless Chan up and down suspiciously.

“What were you doing back there with my sister?” Chan’s eyes went wide and his ears got red. His mouth opened ready to defend himself of any wrong doing but you immediately interrupted Minho’s line of questioning. You were tired, confused, pissed, hurt.

“He was finding out you had one asshole.” Minho looked at you and quiet, angry, tears had started welling in your eyes. You stormed off to what was your room for the time being and slammed the door closed. Minho hadn’t made you cry very many times in your life but every time he ever had he felt so guilty. You had been sad enough for an entire lifetime already and he had promised to always protect you. He ran his hand down his face, sighed, and turned towards Chan again.

“Ugh. SHIT! I wish you would’ve told me you were going to be here.” Chan shook his head at Minho.

“Why wouldn’t you just mention that you have a sister Minho?!” Minho pushed his fingers into his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She’s dealt with a lot in her past and I wanted to protect her from this part of my life for as long as possible. You know how these people get Chan. All I need is for the wrong person to get the wrong idea and then the next thing you know she’s being accused of dating one of us or fucking all of us and then her life story is plastered all over the paper. I don’t need anyone digging into her life and dredging up old shit.” Chan huffed a heavy breath out.

“But not even us man? You couldn’t even tell us?” Minho shook his head.

“No. She was far away at school and happy that’s all I cared about. No one asked so I just didn’t say. Jisungie figured it out a couple years ago when she was back for Christmas, I made him swear not to tell anyone. Chan I just wanted to try and keep her as far from all of this as possible, that’s why I never told you guys.” Chan understood a thing or two about being protective. He had a little sister too and God knows she’s had to deal with her own share of what this life brought with it but Chan also knew that he wouldn’t always be able to shield her from it and neither could Minho with you.

“Look you go smooth things over with your sister and I’ll order take out for dinner.” Minho nodded

“Okay, yea. Maybe put on a shirt too.” Chan laughed and Minho shot him a glare.

“God calm down I’ll put a shirt on.” Chan started to make the call for dinner as your brother headed towards your room. Minho tapped on the door and cracked it open looking in.

“Y/N?” You didn’t reply to him, you just sniffled laying on the bed curled up with your back to the door. Minho walked over and sat on the edge of the bed trying to figure out what to say. Before he could say anything though you spoke.

“Are you ashamed that I’m your sister?” All of Minho’s breath left his body and his eyes went wide. He turned towards you, grabbed your shoulder, and made you look at him.

“HEY NO! No no, that’s not what this is about Y/N. You just... things are different here now because of my job and it can be hard on our families and friends. It’s not fair but it’s how it is. I just didn’t want you hurt getting caught up in gossip or lies. I just wanted to protect you.” You sat up and hugged your brother glad to know that he wasn’t embarrassed by you, that he was only doing what he always did, trying to protect you. At first Minho sat there just letting you hug him but eventually he put his arms around you, hugging you back.

“Well, however different things are here now, I’m just gonna have to get used to it Min.” Minho pulled away looking at you confused.

“What do you mean?” You had something you had been keeping secret also and it was time to spill the beans.

“I’m back for good Minho. I’m moving back to Korea.” He didn’t understand.

“Wait... how? You didn’t finish your degree in 4 years.” You shook your head and chewed your lip.

“No. I didn’t. Look Min there’s a lot to talk about concerning America and school and I’m exhausted from the flight. Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Minho wanted to press you but decided after he had kind of kept your existence secret from the guys the least he could do was let you rest before hounding you about school.

“Okay. But we ARE talking about this tomorrow!” He put out his pinky and you wrapped yours around it and nodded.

“Alright come on Chan’s ordering dinner.” You all settled in the living room, Chan now wearing a shirt, and watched a movie while you waited for the food to show up. Minho fought the urge to interrogate you about school and moving home and Chan fought the urge to steal glances at you any time he was certain Minho wasn’t looking.

As soon as he’d seen you earlier he had immediately wondered why there was a gorgeous woman in his tub. He was sure you had noticed him turning red, his skin was on fire almost as soon as he saw you. It’s why he’d taken his shirt off when he’d gone into his room, trying to cool down. Then suddenly you were in his doorway. Your brother’s shirt swallowed you but you looked cute and comfy and Chan was standing there shirtless with his underwear in his hands like an idiot. He was embarrassed as hell when he realized but you had been gracious and acted like you hadn’t seen anything which Chan had been thankful for. Then you said you were Minho’s sister and his brain exploded.

Now he was sitting there with both of you trying not to stare at you and totally failing. When there was a knock at the door Chan sprung up quickly to answer it.

“Food’s here!” Chan went to get it while you and Minho went to sit at the table in the kitchen. When Chan was back with the food he found Minho sitting at one end of the table and you sitting to the side of him. There was a seat next to you and then one on the other side of Minho across from you. Chan really wanted to sit next to you but he also didn’t have a death wish so he sat across from you, next to Minho, and started passing out food. Chan handed you your food.

“I wasn’t sure what you like or would want so I got you jajangmyeon like me, I hope that’s okay.” You smiled at him brightly.

“That’s perfect, I’m bad at spice and I haven’t had it in FOREVER!” You quickly opened the dish and Chan smiled ear to ear, happy to know he’d made a good choice for you.

“I don’t do spicey either! Well, I try some times, usually when your brother encourages it but it never ends well.” Chan laughed. You all ate and conversated a while, talking about your flight, what it was like growing up with Minho, how things were going for the guys who’s names you were trying to remember.

“So let me see, I think I have it. Felix, Jisung, who I know, well I have met, Changbin, Chan... Chan... I’m missing one.” Minho laughed.

“Hyunjin.” You snapped your fingers.

“Shit! Hyunjin!” You all laughed.

“Once you meet Hyunjin I’m sure you’ll never forget him again.” Minho stopped laughing and glared at Chan. You continued laughing.

“What does that mean?” Minho shifted in his seat very much so disliking the direction this converstation seemed to be going. He didn’t want you to think of his friends like that and he CERTAINLY didn’t want them thinking of you like that. Chan elaborated.

“Most women tend to remember Hyunjin once they’ve seen him. Hyunjin is... cute.” Chan giggled. It was adorable how he laughed like that sometimes. Like a kid at a sleep over trying to stay quiet.

“Oh? Is he as cute as you are?” Chan turned beet red and he almost choked on his food while your brother immediately cleared his throat.

“AHEHEHEM! Okay! Y/N I’ll clean up here! Why don’t you go get some sleep since your exhausted from your flight. Yea?” You rolled your eyes at your brother. You were tired though and now full, so you decided it probably was time for bed. You walked over and poked the tip of Minho’s nose.

“Goodnight grump. Love you.” He made a disgusted face but still made you hug him before he’d let you leave. You walked over and gave Chan a hug from behind. He froze. His arms at his sides and his eyes on Minho who was staring daggers at him.

“Goodnight Channie. Thanks for the dinner.” You smiled at him and he cleared the lump from his throat.

“Oh uh... you're welcome. Goodnight Y/N.” You headed through the living room towards your room. Once Minho heard your door click he pointed at Chan.

“Don’t.” Chan’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t what?!” Minho rolled his eyes.

“I’m not blind. Seriously don’t Chan. She’s been through enough.” Chan shook his head.

“Nonono Lee Know you’ve got it all wrong...” He had it 100% right.

“It’s not like that!” It definitely was. You gave him butterflies and goosebumps and made his head feel all swimmy but the fact that Minho was your brother, one, terrified him, and two, meant that he had to be respectful and treat you as if you were his own sister.

“Whatever you say Chan. She’s never been interested boyfriends or dating anyway but just remember this conversation and don’t feel bad because as soon as the rest of the guys are home we’ll be having the exact same talk. She is off limits, out of bounds. Understood?” Chan nodded nervously. Minho cleared the table and headed to bed and Chan went to finish some work in his room. When he got to his door he turned and looked at yours and smiled, then went into his room and shut the door. He put on his headphones and started working feeling more inspired than ever.

In the middle of the night, after Chan had called it quits on the track he was working on and finally went to bed, he was woken up by a blood curdling scream. His eyes shot open and he leapt from his bed to try to locate the source, forgetting that you were there until he made it to the hall and Minho was already running past him and into your room.

Chan followed him in thinking you were being attacked or something but when he got in there you were alone and thrashing on the bed screaming. Pleas for help falling in between ear-piercing screams. Minho wrapped his arms around you so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, got close to your ear and started whispering something.

“You’re home, you’re safe, I’m here, it’s okay, wake up Y/N, wake up.” You stopped screaming and convulsing and started calming down. Minho kept whispering.

“Wake up Y/N, wake up.” Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself in a bear hug by Minho, a worried expression on his face and you saw Chan standing there totally shell shocked. You didn’t remember anything but you knew what had happened without your brother telling you. You’d had another night terror. It was always overwhelming after having one, whether you remembered it or not. You started to cry and Minho just held you and hugged you tightly.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.” Minho looked over his shoulder at Chan.

“Chan.” He stood there his heart still pounding out of his chest.

“Chan!” Chan snapped out of it and looked at Minho.

“Will you grab some water for her please?” Chan nodded and headed straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for you from the fridge. He stopped for a second to take a couple of deep breaths and get a hold of himself. Chan had never seen anything like that before. It was like you were possessed or something. When Chan got back to your room you and Minho were both sitting up in your bed and Minho had managed to calm you down for the most part. Chan walked up to the side of your bed and handed you the bottle of water. You took it and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you Chan.” Your voice was quiet and you wouldn’t look him in the eye. You were embarrassed he’d seen you like that. You couldn’t control it but still, it was embarrassing. You took a drink of the water Chan brought you and your brother pushed a bit of hair out of your eyes.

“I thought you weren’t having these anymore?” He questioned you now that you were calm. You shook your head.

“I haven’t been. I think it was just exhaustion from the flight Min, really. I’m okay now.” Minho pressed his lips together not fully believing you.

“Really Minho, I am, I’m okay.” He nodded and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Chan had never seen Minho treat any human like the way he was with you. Tender, gentle. An animal sure, people no. He was caring but in other ways except with you apparently, which Chan was taking note of.

“Okay, if you can’t fall back asleep promise you’ll come wake me up.” You agreed and Minho got up to head back to his own bed in his own room and Chan followed.

“Thanks again for the water Chan.” He turned back and gave you a half smile that made one of his dimples pop out again.

“No problem Y/N, sleep well.” He pulled your door closed heading back to his own room as well. Minho stopped him.

“When I say she’s been through a lot this is the kind of stuff I’m talking about Chan. Okay? Stuff she still has night terrors about. She had a HARD life before she came to live with our family. You get what I’m saying?” Chan shook his head and Minho headed to his room.

The rest of the night was peaceful but Chan only half slept, keeping and ear out for you just in case. Minho woke up first in the morning and started coffee and breakfast. You came stumbling out when you smelled the bacon. You drug yourself into the kitchen like a zombie. You had slept okay the rest of the night but jet lag was still kicking your ass.

“Before you even think about speaking to me you better have caffeine.” Your brother scoffed.

“Yes your highness, the royal coffee is ready.” You put your finger to your lips.

“Shhhh shh shh, no words just point me in the direction of the coffee.” Minho laughed. He walked up behind you placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you a little to the left where you saw the coffee pot.

“Ahhh black gold.” You brother shook his head and went back to cooking.

“That’s oil.” You grabbed a mug.

“Maybe to you. This is worth more than any petrol to me.” He laughed and set a plate of food on the table.

“Eat up, we gotta go see the parents.” You sat down with your coffee and started to eat the breakfast Minho made you.

“You’ve gotten really good at cooking Min.” He smiled at you and gave you a little bow.

“Looks like the coffee is working already. Maybe it is more valuable than petrol.” You flipped your brother off as Chan came into the kitchen and you suddenly wished you had made a trip to the bathroom to wash up a bit before coming out there. You were certain you looked like death. Chan looked adorable of course. His curls were even messier than they had been the night before and his eyes were puffy and half closed. He looked like he was sleep walking but then he spoke to you.

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and sleepy it made you wonder if he would sound like that if you had woken up next to him. What?! You needed to keep those thoughts out of your brain. You shook your head and smiled at him.

“Good morning Chan.” He smiled back and his eyes actually did close. He was so cute sleepy like that. Minho put another plate down on the table.

“Eat up Chan.” Chan opened his eyes again. His smile got bigger and he groaned, another sound your imagination didn’t need to go running wild with either.

“Ughh! Yes! Thanks Minho! I have to go to yoga soon and I was just gonna grab some fruit or something.” Yoga? Is life testing you with yet another thing you were trying to not let your imagination run away with. Chan stretching, bending, sweating...

“Y/N???” Your brother had said something.

“What?” He sat down at the table with his own plate.

“I asked you if you’ve talked to mom or dad since you got in.” You shook your head answering but also trying to get the residual thoughts of Chan doing yoga out of your head.

“Yea I called mom on the car ride here yesterday and let her know I landed safe and that you said we’d be coming over today.” Minho nonchalantly looked at his plate.

“Do they know you’re moving back?” Chan’s ears perked a little. You were moving back? Meaning you’d be around more?

“You’re just gonna jump right into that huh?” Minho nodded and you sighed.

“Okay Min don’t freak out but... I got kicked out of school and before you ask because of poor grades and my attendance.” Minho held back the urge to immediately go in to lecture mode and let you finish. You hadn’t mentioned this on any of the calls the two of you had.

“This last semester at school I had a lot of... issues.” Your brother’s eyes narrowed and you continued.

“Okay well you know the one person I was NEVER supposed to see?” Minho’s face stiffened. Oh, he knew.

“Well, I found him.” His jaw dropped; he couldn’t help his reaction. He shouted

“YOU FOUND YOUR DAD!?” Chan suddenly felt like he was in the middle of something that was a very private family thing and it was. Minho cut the topic of converstation off quickly.

“We’ll be discussing this on the way to mom and dads.” He spoke through gritted teeth and you sunk down in your chair pushing what was left of your breakfast around your plate. You knew Minho would be pissed. You all finished breakfast in relative awkward silence, then Chan left for his yoga class and you got ready to go to your mom and dad’s with Minho. You were about ten minutes into the tense drive to your parent’s place in Gimpo when Minho finally broke the silence.

“So, how did you fall behind so much and why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I’m here trying to protect you from these people dragging your past up and you’re running around America doing it yourself!” You looked out the window at the passing scenery.

“I honestly didn’t realize it was getting so out of hand Min. I just... I was convinced I needed to find George and confront him. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but it ended up being even harder than I had expected and I fell behind on classes and assignments, missed tests. I was so caught up in trying to find him and prove something that I fucked up Min. I knew if I told you I was looking for him you’d try and talk me out of it and I knew if I told you about school you’d be disappointed. I know you’re disappointed in me Minho.” You kept looking out the window not wanting to see the look on your brother’s face. He sighed.

“I’m not disappointed in you Y/N. I just... I wish you would’ve told me what was actually going on. So you did find him though, right?” You shook your head.

“Yea. I did.” Minho waited for you to continue but you didn’t.

“And? What happened?” You shrugged and looked a little defeated.

“I immediately realized falling behind was pointless just like looking for him had been. He was high as a kite. Nothing changed there I guess. He didn’t even realize who I was. I just left. Didn’t bother trying to explain. He always hated me anyway, I don’t know why I was so convinced I had to confront him like it would’ve made some kind of difference.” Minho’s jaw ticked. He absolutely hated your biological dad. He’d only met him twice when you both were younger, before your adoption had been finalized and he still had SOME rights to see you. Minho remembered each time as clear as day and neither left him with particularly fond memories of your father.

“Is after you saw him when your night terrors started again?” You shook your head yes.

“God damn it Y/N you said you weren’t having them! Why aren’t you telling me things! You used to tell me everything!” You sat there quietly for a bit with no answer to give, no good answer.

“Min, are you gonna make me tell mom and dad about finding George?” He let out a breath as he considered your question.

“How are you going to explain school?” He quizzed.

“I’m just gonna say I had issues and fell behind. It’s the truth technically.” Minho definitely didn’t like hiding things from your parents but this was actually one of the instances he figured, maybe it was best if they didn’t know.

“As long as you tell them about school and moving back, I won’t mention George. Deal?” You nodded in agreement, smiling at your brother.

Surprisingly enough when you broke the news to your parents about school and moving back during dinner, they took it fairly well. That would probably have been a very different outcome had Minho made you tell your parents about finding your birth father also. You were grateful that he had agreed to not tell your parents. Your mother, always a worrier when it came to you, only wanted to know one thing.

“Where will you be living sweetheart? You know you’re always welcome to your room here.” You grabbed your mom’s hand and gave it a squeeze smiling at her.

“Well about that. While I appreciate the offer mom, I was going to ask Minho if he thought I could stay with him until I got a job and a place of my own? I already failed at school and had to move home I don’t think I can to move back in with my parents on top of all that.” Minho’s eyes got big and he hacked on the bite of food he had in his mouth.

“Well... I don’t know... I live with five other guys Y/N I don’t know if that’s app-” Your mom cut Minho off, pish poshing him.

“Every one of those boys is an absolute sweet heart and a gentleman Minho. I think as long as they didn’t mind it would be fine. Don’t you?” Minho got that look on his face, the one he gets whenever he knows you’re probably about to get your way, the one that makes him look like an irritated kitty cat.

“Pleeaaasssee Min Min? Will you ask them? I promise to help around the dorm and I’ll find a job and my own place asap!” He let out a heavy sigh knowing he couldn’t say no to you now. Not in front of your mom, not when you called him Min Min.

“I'll ASK! But if they say no...” You shook your head.

“Then I’ll just have to suck it up and stay with mom and dad whether I want to or not.” After spending the day with your parents, having dinner, and you and Minho doing the dishes, you both got loaded up with plenty of left overs and in the car to head back to the dorm.

“You think I don’t know you pulled that at dinner, knowing mom would take your side?” You looked at your brother feigning innocence.

“I- Min. Mom is the one that aske-” He scoffed.

“Cut the shit Y/N.” You smirked.

“Okay so I had a feeling mom would bring that up and maybe I knew that she would probably take my side but I really meant what I said about not wanting to have to move back with the parents after everything else. It's too much Minho.” Your brother was thrilled to have you staying with him. It’s not like he didn’t want you around, it was the five other men that lived with him that made him uneasy about the arrangement.

“You have to promise me something Y/N. One thing.” You looked at your brother waiting for what he was going to ask for in return.

“Don’t try anything funny with any of the guys.” Your face started to burn it was so red. You and Minho never talked about stuff like that.

“MINHO!” He shooed his hand at you to shoosh you.

“I mean it! If you want to stay you have to promise that you’re not gonna try and date any of them, I mean it Y/N, I’m serious. It will just end with you getting hurt.” You threw up your hands.

“Minho I don’t even date-” He shook his head.

“I don’t care, promise or you’re not staying, I’ll turn around and take you back to mom and dad’s right now.” He hit the turn signal to get off the highway.

‘’Okay okay! Jeeze I promise I won’t date any of your friends. Christ!” You sat in silence in the car for a bit before you broke the awkward silence again.

“I really will help around the place and find work. I’m not sure where yet but...” Minho sighed.

“Well, I might be able to help with that too. It won’t be anything fancy but I can probably get you in a temp position at the company. If a full-time position opens, I could put in a word. You bounced in your seat.

“If I wasn’t absolutely certain you would crash us into the river, I’d hug you.” Minho cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t do it for even considering it.” When you pulled up to the parking lot of the dorm Minho’s text notification went off. He pulled out his phone, looked at it and sighed.

“What’s up?” He quickly text the person back and put it back in his pocket.

“It’s Hannie. He’s back in town but he’s stranded at the company so I gotta go get him. Do you want to come?” You were still fighting jet lag and it had been a long day with your parents. You really didn’t want to.

“I’ll just head up to bed Min. Tell Jisung I said hi and that I’ll see him tomorrow.” You kissed your palm and half smacked your brother in the face a little harder than necessary before quickly getting out of the car.

“Love you!” You ran towards the doors to the building and Minho rolled his eyes and took off to meet Jisung.

It was already pretty late when you were getting in. Most of the dorm lights were off. You navigated through the living room in the dark as best you could, you managed not to hurt yourself at least. Once you got to the hall you could see a little. Chan’s door was closed but you could see the light was on through the crack at the bottom and heard more of the same kind of soft r&b from the day before. You went over and tapped on it lightly and waited to hear if Chan replied. If he was asleep or working with his headphones on you wouldn’t bother him.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and there was Chan, fresh out of the shower, water still dripping down the lines of his body, his wet curls clumping together and sticking to his forehead. He had one end of a towel scrunched up in one hand, drying his hair and another end of the towel gripped in his other hand drying his midsection. The rest of the towel happened to drape and keep you from seeing EVERYTHING but only barely and his ass was out for the world.

“OHFUCK! Sorry! I... Uh... didn’t see anything!” You closed your eyes and covered them with your hands as you screamed the apology. Chan almost dropped the towel and then wrapped it around himself.

“OH FUCK! FUCK! No Uh I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were back! I uh... I’m covered now.” You opened your eyes again and you both moved, you away from his door, him towards it, tandem movements, almost like dancing. He pushed his hair away from his face and gave you a nervous smile and those damn dimples popped out again. He was equal parts sexy and adorable and he swung wildly back and forth between the two. He walked out dripping wet, firm and naked and then blushed and those dimples showed up and he was the cutest guy you’d ever seen.

“I’m really really sorry Chan!” He was still gripping the towel around him to make sure he was covered but it hung low and you couldn’t help but notice the curve of his hip leading to what was hiding under the towel now.

“No seriously it’s totally my fault, I knew you were staying with us I should have been more careful. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” You both stood there in awkward silence for a minute, completely red faces.

“I’m... gonna... go get dressed now. Uh can you do me a favor and not tell your brother about this?” Chan opened his door and started backing into his room.

“RIGHT! Yea no, tell him about what? You know?” Chan let out a sigh of relief

“Thanks Y/N, uh, goodnight.” He smiled at you.

“Goodnight Chan.” He closed his door and you went into your room across the hall and shut yours. You leaned against it trying to catch your breath. The way Chan made you feel just the few times you had been around him; no one had ever made you feel like that before and now this? But you had JUST promised your brother.

“Fuck.”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

Tag list: @ughbehavior @septicrebel @chansynie @caroline-ds-world @cb97percent (since it's Channie) @3rachasninja

#stray kids fan fic #skz fan fic #bang chan fan fic #stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan angst #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids #skz #skz stay #bang chan #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤

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marzmeltdown · 10 months

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Familiar Taste of Poison - pt 4

⌦ Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!Reader ⌦ Genre(s): series,, angst,, fluff ⌦ chapter specific genre: angst ⌦ Warning(s): !!TW: LIGHT MENTIONS OF Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse, implied depression!!, reader kinda uses Wonwoo, some mention of being sick, clubbing, swearing, mentions of roofies but nothing graphic happens (there are no rape elements in any part of this chapter. If you skip that part, you won't miss anything too important I promise and understand if you do.), one mention of gagging at the smell of food but the m/c is hung over so. ⌦ Word count: 2.26k ⌦ Summary: You and Wonwoo have been friends since childhood, though you're both a little estranged from one another, the only contact being when you call Wonwoo for help. ⌦ A/N: Wonwoo's part is kind of filler tbh,, If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:) ⌦ I have attached a link to a website with help hotlines around the world, this series has heavy themes of mental health and substance abuse. This link will be added to every chapter. ⌦ International Mental Health hotlines

⌦ Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

⌦ marz’s tag list ⌦ marz’s req form

⌦ (Reader's pov) Months went by before you felt well enough to go out with your friends again, and Wonwoo's words kept echoing in your mind whenever you would get a text from them inviting you out. Tonight, you decided that wallowing in your own self-pity wasn't going to make anything better; there was only one thing that would make everything go back to the way it was previously, and you weren't ready to face the music just yet.

"Can I borrow this dress?" Your friend Chelsea asked, holding up a black sequin dress that sparkled when the light hit it. Your parents would always say something along the lines of it hardly being a dress every time you wore it to a family function. Not that you went to those much anymore.

You looked up from your spot on the floor, moving the mascara wand from your face so you didn't mess up your makeup. You had a bathroom with nice lighting, but nothing is better than sitting on the floor in your bedroom in front of a floor-length mirror. Your makeup always looks better when you do it that way.

"I was gonna wear that, but I guess you can wear it," you said before turning your attention back to the mirror and finishing your makeup.

"Thank you! I promise I'll give it back!" she exclaimed as she bounced off into your bathroom with the dress. You rolled your eyes slightly, letting out a sigh, because you knew you would never see that dress again. Spritzing your face with setting spray, you then began to do your hair, curling the strands into loose waves.

You looked at yourself in the mirror once you found a new dress. It wasn't nearly as flattering as the black sequin one you loaned to your friend, but you still looked damn good in it. You wondered if any of your friends were picking up on your less than enthusiastic demeanor; after all, you were frowning in the mirror.

Yejun stepped behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders as she looked at you through the mirror.

"You okay?" She asked. She was the only friend you had in this group of girls that you actually considered a good friend. Even though she would abandon you along with the other girls when you went a little too hard, she would always call you the day after and make sure you made it home safely.

"Not really, but I can't stay upset forever." You shrugged, the lump in your throat that hadn't gone away since Wonwoo cut you out of his life making a return. You reached up to squeeze one of her hands reassuringly, saying, "And besides, is it ever a party without me?" You joked lightly.

The Uber ride to the club was quiet; it was a thick feeling, and you could tell your friends were talking about you in another group chat. You knew good and well about this group chat, but how could you confront them without any evidence? Yejun would probably deny having told you anyway; as good of a person as she was, she was still a snake at times.

The club was loud, with music pumping from every corner, girls drunkenly singing along to some club remix of a Rihanna song, and the smell of sweat filling your senses. You made a beeline to the bar, ordering a few drinks to soothe the lump that hadn't left your throat since it returned.

It didn't take long until you were joining your friends on the dance floor, drink in hand, as you moved with no rhythm to a song you didn't know. You felt a figure press itself against your back, grinding up into you, causing you to jump just a bit.

Looking behind you, you saw a man who looked pretty good based on what the strobe lights would illuminate. His grip on his hand loosened when your head snapped back at him, and only when you turned to face him to continue dancing did his hands grip against your waist again.

Feeling the music, you wrapped your arms around his neck, effectively grinding up against each other so much that you were afraid your dress would ride up. It was a while before you took a drink from the clear cup of fruity liquid that was in your hand. The thirty minutes after you'd taken the last few sips of your drink seemed to be fine, until the feeling of being uneasy hit you like a ton of bricks.

The fear of throwing up on this poor man was more important than your head spinning and your vision blurring as you stumbled to the bathroom. You could hear footsteps behind you, but you couldn't tell whose footsteps they were until that same hand gripped your wrist with the same force it had used to hold onto your waist.

"Where are you going, princess? The fun's just starting," he whispered in your ear. He pulled you close to his body as yours began to go limp. You were too weak and too out of it to fight back; you were sure tonight would end in a way you hadn't planned for.

"Get away from her, you pig!" You heard someone say it, followed by the sounds of something being sprayed and the man screaming. The music was too loud for anyone to have noticed, and the only thing you could be certain of was that the cold feeling of the marble floor you'd slumped onto felt nice against your sweaty skin.

Just as you began to find comfort in the cold temperature of the marble floor beneath you and the darkness that began clouding the edges of your vision, you were hoisted up once more. With the little bit of strength you had left, you looked up to see Yejun carrying you to what you had assumed was the bathroom.

She was saying something to you, but your senses were too far gone for you to know what she was saying. By the time you two had made it to the bathroom, you were hardly holding yourself up, and your eyes felt like a thousand weighted blankets. You could feel yourself being propped against the wall and hear the sound of the sink starting. You tried your best to keep yourself aware of your surroundings—anything to prolong the darkness that threatened to envelope you at any second.

You could feel water on your face and a cup being pressed to your lips. You had the foresight to reject the liquid until it hit your tongue, and you could tell it was water.

⌦(Readers pov) You weren't sure how you got home that night, but you were thankful when you woke up in your own bed and not in some random alleyway. You looked around, expecting to still see the mess from the night before, but instead you were met with a clean room, closed curtains, a glass of water, and two painkillers on your nightstand.

There was a knock on your bedroom door as you sat up, taking the glass from the bedside table along with the medicine. You half expected to see your best friend on the other side of the door when it opened, but what you saw shocked you. Yejun was outside the door.

"You're up." She smiled softly, walking into your room with a bowl of what looked like ramen. The smell made your stomach turn, and you had to stop yourself from gagging before you were able to take the medicine.

"Yea, how…how long was I out?" You asked; your phone was on the nightstand, but it hadn't been put on the charger when you were put to bed. Yejun sat the bowl of food on your dresser as she made her way to the edge of your bed, sitting across from you.

"Awhile, it's almost 4," she said. It was silent in the room for a moment; you weren't sure what to say. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Not really, why?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"Someone drugged you, but I got to you before anything happened. I tried to get ahold of your friend, the one that always takes you home after parties, but I couldn't get ahold of him." She said she was playing with the cracking nail polish on her fingers.

You looked down at the cup of water in your hands, a small smile creeping its way to your face. It was not a smile of happiness; quite the opposite, actually; it was one of disbelief.

"I'm not surprised; he said he didn't want to be around me anymore if I continued to…" you trailed off, trying to find the right word.

"Use him?" Yejun said.

"Yeah, essentially," you said. Your finger traced the rim of the glass as you thought. "I think I should get some help,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yea, I was drugged last night, and I always get way too fucked up for you guys to have fun; I'm bound to get severely hurt one day," you said.

"That's really brave of you; I'll support your decision no matter what." Yejun said, resting her hand on your shin.

"That means I need to cut the girls out of my life," you said, and Yejun retracted her hand. You looked up at her, reaching over to grab her hand. "Not you; if it weren't for you finding me, I don't know what would have happened."

⌦(Wonwoo's pov) Wonwoo couldn't stop himself from looking at the ten missed calls he had from you from the night before; not being there to save you was taking a toll on him. He was worried something had happened, and he almost called you back until his phone displayed Hannah's face on his screen. Wonwoo and Hannah were going pretty steady, having been together for about 3 months at this point.

Wonwoo let out a sigh to expel any of the bad feelings he had been feeling before he answered the phone. He smiled as soon as Hannah's face popped up on his screen.

"Hey, Honey Bee- whats wrong?" Hannah said, noticing how his smile looked forced and his shoulders were more slouched than normal.

"Nothing, nothing; I'm just tired," he said, moving his free hand around as if to swat away any of the worry Hannah had.

"Are you sure? You look upset," she said, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," he replied, leaning back against the couch as he spoke.

"It's about that girl, isn't it?" She asked. Despite feeling some way about you, she didn't like seeing her boyfriend upset. Wonwoo only nodded, averting his gaze from the phone screen.

"Yeah… I have 10 missed calls from her," he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It was silent for a moment, which only made Wonwoo feel worse about bringing up another girl to his girlfriend.

"Do you think she's okay?" She asked. Though her questions were sincere, her voice gave away her irritation. It was clear that Hannah would never be comfortable with the relationship you two once shared, and understandably so.

"I hope so,"

"Do you want to meet up for dinner? I think we have some things to talk about," she said. Now it was her turn to look away from the camera.

"Why don't you just come here? I can make you dinner," Wonwoo suggested.

"Sounds good; I'll be there soon," she said before she hung up.

It didn't take long for Hannah to show up at Wonwoo's doorstep; the air between them was thick, and Wonwoo wasn't exactly sure why. He had a feeling that whatever Hannah needed to speak about, it was going to be bad, or else she wouldn't have asked to speak in person.

Wonwoo made a simple dinner: sundubu jjigae with kimchi. The two sat in silence as they both ate at the dinner table. Each time Hannah would pause her movements, Wonwoo would look up from his food as if to ask her if she was okay.

"Wanna talk about it?" Wonwoo finally asked, setting his spoon down next to his bowl and looking up at his girlfriend.

"I was gonna wait till we finished eating…" Hannah trailed off, following Wonwoo's motions as she placed her spoon down and looked up at him. "I've been thinking a lot about us; you're a great guy, Wonwoo, truly. Any girl would be lucky to have you, but…"

"But?" Wonwoo's heart didn't drop like he had expected it to; if he were being honest, it felt as though his relationship with Hannah was close to an end. He didn't expect this relationship to last.

"But I can't help but feel hurt when I notice that you're always checked out whenever we're together. You're always worrying about someone, and that someone isn't me. I don't want you to feel like I'm upset with you or hate you, but it's pretty obvious that we're lying to ourselves if we think this relationship is going to last," Hannah continued.

"I understand; I haven't been the best boyfriend. You deserve so much better, Hannah," Wonwoo said.

"You're not upset?"

"Well, I'm not exactly happy, but I can't change your mind, and you deserve someone better," Wonwoo said, looking at the wall behind Hannah.

The two finished their meal in silence before Hannah left. Wonwoo sighed as he washed the dishes. He had some crappy luck with relationships, it seemed.

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beardedmrbean · 2 years

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Fans are asking US singer Lizzo to delete and re-record her new single, Grrrls, to remove an ableist slur from the lyrics.

The song was released on Friday 10 June, and almost immediately received criticism from disability advocates.

Lizzo prominently uses a derogatory term for cerebral palsy, also known as spastic diplegia, in the first verse.

"It's absolutely shocking, It really made me flinch," says talent agent Abbie Hills, who has cerebral palsy.

"Why you would choose that word when there's so many other options? It's just completely wrong."

On social media, other fans have said there is "no excuse" for using the "derogatory and harmful" slur.

But although people are upset by the lyric, there's an unusual element of compassion in the online discourse.

"I don't want to cause any harm and I don't want to cancel her, as is the common reaction on the internet," says Hannah Diviney, a writer and disability advocate in Sydney, Australia. "I just want her to learn gently."

"I've seen a few comments about cancelling Lizzo and that's not what we want," added model Shelby Lynch, who has spinal muscular atrophy, on Twitter. "We want to educate her and have the word challenged."

The BBC has asked Lizzo's record label for a response, but has yet to receive a reply.

Some fans have pointed out that the insult used in Grrrls has a different connotation in the US - where it is often used to mean "freaking out" or "going crazy" (although those terms can themselves be insensitive to people with mental health conditions).

But Hills stresses that, regardless of its usage, the slur still originated as a term of abuse for people with cerebral palsy - a brain condition that affects movement and co-ordination.

"Cerebral palsy isn't just a UK disability," she says. "There are so many people with it, particularly in America. Even famous actors like RJ Mitte from Breaking Bad, who is a huge sensation over there and does so much work for disability rights.

"I bet, for him and people within our community, this is just such an insult from someone who is meant to be a diverse voice."

This feeling of disappointment is a common theme amongst Lizzo's critics.

The Grammy-winning singer is a passionate advocate for the plus-size, queer and black communities. Her biggest songs, including Good As Hell and About Damn Time, typically celebrate body positivity and good mental health.

By using an outdated insult, targeted at another marginalised group, many feel she has let herself down.

"I don't understand how you can be selective with diversity, says Hills. "This happens so often. Why does disability get left off the 'checklist'."

"And how could [this term] slip through the net of the writers, her studio team, the producers, Lizzo's entourage. the label? It just doesn't make sense."

Adds Diviney: "For her to unintentionally use that word, or still be in a place where that word is considered OK is really upsetting, because she's a pioneer of inclusion and acceptance in the music industry.

"So if we can get her to stop doing that, that would be great."

Comedian Rosie Jones defiant after ableist abuse

'Body positivity has been commercialised'

The s-word

Diviney, who also has cerebral palsy, messaged Lizzo on Twitter over the weekend to explain why the term is so offensive.

"Cerebral palsy is literally classified as spastic diplegic cerebral palsy, which basically means that like I have spasticity, or tightness, in my legs specifically," she says,

"It's something I can't control and it makes my life quite difficult and painful. Seeing that word used to suggest someone has lost control or had an emotional outburst is really weird because that's not at all what it's like; and that's not at all what my life as the disabled person is."

'Remove the s-word'

Although Lizzo has yet to acknowledge the criticisms, Diviney is hopeful she will respond with sensitivity.

"I feel like it would be pretty easy to go in and rework the song," she says. "Maybe throw in a different phrase, or communicate the context of what she's trying to say, in a less offensive way."

This is what many people would like to hear. Fans across social media are clamouring for Lizzo to re-upload Grrrls to streaming sites like Spotify and YouTube with new lyrics.

"Please remove the s-word from your song," posted actress Abigail Lea on Tik Tok. "Re-record it and apologise," added Sinead Reid on Twitter. "It's the only option here."

It's certainly possible. Lady Gaga erased and replaced R Kelly from her duet Do What U Want since his sex trafficking crimes came to light; while Michael Jackson re-recorded his single They Don't Care About Us to remove an anti-Jewish slur word.

But Hills says Lizzo might not be able to undo the damage her song has already caused.

"I've seen it all over Tik Tok. I've seen kids dancing to it, which for me is the biggest problem because she's got this status with teenagers who don't know the word, and don't know the associations it has.

"So when they hear it on Tik Tok, they're going to dance around, screaming at the top of their lungs and that is a problem because they are the next generation."

#nunyas news #sigh

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abject-bodies-bible · 2 years

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The project of abject bodies has undergone many evolutions since the proposal. While the initial medium of the project was purely poetry, as I wrote I arrived at the realization that the work was speaking to a more expansive and accessible format that extended beyond just written word. In this way, abject bodies really became an experiment in biblical reception. Poetry, when bound in a book or zine style pamphlet for distribution, can often feel stagnant or permanent. What has moved me about the process of abject bodies is that these stories are continually subject to redefinition and thus I wanted to work with a medium that could reflect that. The intense thematic goals of the project warranted a more accessible form of distribution. Because abject bodies deals with heavier themes of violence, abuse, and silencing in the women’s experience, I felt that creating an interactive environment would transform the poetry project into something that is educational and provocative to a wide range of individuals interested in biblical reception, poetics, feminism… or even those looking to engage with a new venue for intellectual exploration. The user can begin to imagine a correlation with these biblical stories in the present day and it is my hope that creating a virtual experience with the various narratives of women will inspire an audience to actively engage with the stories and form their own interpretations. The medium of the website freed me to assemble various poems and capture the disjointed or shattered nature of narrative that I am intrigued by. I ultimately decided to intersperse my own blurbs of analysis and relevant quotations to provide some coherence, adding a necessary layer of context for the user who may not have this background. I landed on the web environment because it afforded me the tools to create an online space which may take on a life of its own as the webpage can be shared easily, commented on, and even reposted. Tumblr.com specifically is a valuable avenue through which a creative vision can be both realized and advanced; the flexibility of the software and streamlined navigation was helpful in working through big ideas as it allowed me to integrate text and visuals artistically.

To fully create an atmosphere, I experimented with written word and graphic design to impacting the viewing experience. In abject bodies, the photography element both conveys abjection due to the graininess and lack of resolution, the women are always somehow obscured either by the frame, crop, or the black line cast over their eyes. The notion of anonymity was something that piqued my curiosity, as it is omnipresent in the stories of Jephthah’s daughter, Levite’s concubine, and even in the marriage-metaphors wherein the woman does not really assume a discernable identity other than her connection to Israel and God. The incorporation of images into the project makes the poetry more vivid, and I specifically chose images of “real girls” to convey that the anecdotes from the Bible are not only scriptural but can be felt today. I found this especially present with Eve, whose very image is perhaps one of culture’s most reproduced icons. Exploring what it means to depict Eve as a “normal girl,” someone who we feel like we may have encountered or have yet to encounter, is an attempt at dismantling the fetishization of her narrative. It became an objective to conjure the female narratives through a textual and visual convention which is both affirming and challenging to the contemporary audience: such that readers can ground themselves in scriptural elements while also contemplating a more abstract concept such as abjection. An example of this interplay between broad and specific, past and present, is found in the poem “voice of the survivor” which is inspired by the story of the Levite’s concubine. In the poem, I incorporate various scenes from domestic and cosmopolitan life: “clean dishes hum” or “a pigeon lands on the railing of the balcony” so that the reader could identify and situate themselves within an environment and headspace. I then inject subtle subversions derived from the transcribed Biblical tradition, i.e., “I cut twelve / I paint my eyes” and “Rinsing, dying / horseback, riding / dead by morning” eliciting both the demise of another biblical woman, Jezebel, and the very precise destruction of the Concubine’s body. Through interweaving, I want to convey the notion that despite historical absencing and violence that is present both in Biblical exegesis and in female history, women continue to survive despite these social and cultural lineages… with the modern woman as ‘proof.’ In another poem, entitled lamenting forgetfulness, I investigate the phenomenon of amnesia as it pertains to both the prophetic attributes of Gomer and the modern abuse survivor. As I note in the project, the notion of “forgetting” has multiple meanings and implications. To forget may be a sign of resilience or independence, but it also may be a side-effect of emotional trauma. For the woman it may be both. Thus, the poetic aspect of abject bodies seeks to explore the interactions between biblical and modern women, looking for spaces of mutual reconciliation and survival.

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cinnamortal · 2 years

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Look After You (2)

A/N: It has been two long years without an update to this saga, and I am terribly sorry. So much has happened that it would be impossible to fit into one author’s note. However, I am back and better with the continuation of the Look After You saga! I hope you enjoy it, as it took me a lot to relive all the ideas and anguish of pulling this plot together by its seams. Series Summary: October 3, 1976— the day your life fell apart. With your best friend gone and two hotheaded males that insist on trailing behind your every move, you might not escape the school year sane, or worse, alive. Series Warning — READ THIS BEFORE YOU CONTINUE: This fic is not for the light of heart. Over the course of the story, you will see elements that will include but are not limited to torture, mature and adult themes, reckless behavior that borders suicidal, and PTSD. If any of these bother you, please, do not read this story. You have been warned. Word Count: 2,364 Warnings: Language.

“Macmillian, stop ogling your girlfriend before someone gets a Bludger to the face!”

You watched James zip passed the blonde Beater as you leaned on the stand railing, dreamily watching him play.

“He’s pretty brutal for just a friendly,” Mary chuckled, fingers nimbly twisting the ends of her Gryffindor scarf. “I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked O’Mara off her broom yet.”

“You can tell he’s thought of it,” you laughed, pointing at James, who hovered above the field as Hooch called a foul on the Slytherin Beater, Travers. “Look at his face!”

Jaw locked and fists clenched around the handle of his broom, James hunched as he stared in the direction of the brunette Slytherin, undoubtedly giving her a glare from Hell. When the whistle blew, he lurched forward and zagged between Lucinda Talkalot, the Slytherin Captain and another Chaser, and O’Mara, successfully snatching the airborne Quaffle before racing down the pitch.

“FUCK HER UP, JAMES!”

You whipped your head around, gawking at a blonde who sat further up on the stands. You recognized her to be Marlene McKinnon, a close friend of Lily and occasional arm candy for Sirius Black. Lily slapped her friend’s arm, face rivaling the color of her hair and scrunched up. You rolled your eyes, mood souring already.

“I could dock House points for foul language?” Olivia offered sympathetically, closing her hand around yours. As the Gryffindor Prefect for your year, it was a little surprising that she would offer to abuse her power for you. Olivia hated breaking the rules as much as Mary did.

You shook your head, studying your chipped nail polish. “Maybe Louise was right. It’s pathetic to chase after a guy I don’t have a chance with.”

“I told you not to let what she says get to you, (Y/N),” Mary warned, standing up straight to face you. “Louise is, by everything but definition, a hag. The only reason you don’t stand a chance right now is because you don’t talk to James, which can be changed. You’ll never know if you never try.”

You smiled softly at your best friend’s words, but you continued to glower over your shoulder. No amount of self-love pep talks could shine through the shadow Lily cast over you.

“Maybe it’s time to move on,” Oliva added on, placing a tan hand on your shoulder. “They say the best way to get over a guy is to get under another.”

“Olivia!” You shrieked, cheeks blazing at her abruptness. “You’re spending too much time with Nadeen. I’ve, I’ve never done that-“

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant!” Oliva’s cheeks pinked, and she quickly reached up to adjust her glasses. “Is that what that means? Merlin.. Anyways, I meant that you should try to find someone else to crush on. What about Tiberius? I heard he’s single.”

You pulled a face at the thought of Tiberius McLaggen. He wasn’t exactly hideous, but he wasn’t the best-looking guy either.

“He sweats more than he talks,” Mary grimaced, looking in the direction where the male sat. He sat laughing with Waldren Vane, and when he looked your way, you and Mary both snapped your heads forward. “Remember when he threw up second year in Potions? All over Regulus Black? I thought he was a goner for sure.”

“Speaking of Regulus Black, did you hear?” Oliva whispered suddenly, leaning into you both. “I heard he’s joined You-Know-Who. I overheard him and Lucius Malfoy discussing some kind of mission during the Prefect meeting. Sounded really important.”

You frowned, looking up at the Quidditch field. You spotted Regulus hovering above the field, head turning slowly as he searched for the Snitch. “Regulus, a Death Eater? No way. He always seemed so…”

“Soft,” Mary whispered, visibly shaken. You covered her hand with hers, frowning softly. As a half-blood yourself, you couldn’t imagine the fear Mary felt as a Muggleborn. The insults hurled her way by the Slytherins only grew with the years as the Dark Lord grew in power.

“It could just be a rumor, you know,” Olivia started, eyeing Mary cautiously. “There seems to be loads of those going around already. However, (Y/N), his brother Sirius has been single for quite a while.”

“Yeah, romantically,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest with a grimace. “He’s been in more beds than he has detentions. Really, I’m surprised he hasn’t caught some magically-incurable disease or something.”

Mary and Olivia both laughed, shaking their heads at your outspoken dislike of the oldest Black brother.

“He’s a total prat, too,” you added on, pushing your scarf further over your shoulder. “Did you see what he did to that Ravenclaw first year? Totally singed the boy’s eyebrows straight off his face!”

“James was in on that too, you know,” Mary reminded you with a pointed look. Before you could jump to his defense, she suddenly swayed, knees buckling beneath her. You jumped to catch her before she fell, face twisted in concern.

“Mary? What’s wrong?” You looked up at Olivia, motioning your head for a little help. She just watched with widened eyes.

“Nothing,” Mary croaked, eyes screwed shut as she tried to stand up. “I just got really dizzy for a second. I didn’t eat much this morning.”

“I’ll go get you something to snack on. Oliva, can you hold her?” You helped Mary to the benches behind you, holding onto her shoulder before Olivia slid in beside her. You reluctantly walked away, sending a concerned look over your shoulder as you reached the end of the row.

You missed the first step down.

Two strong arms caught you before you hit the ground, and you were pulled into a warm chest. Plagued by a familiar, overwhelming scent of cinnamon, pine, and a hint of cigarette musk, you raised your head to meet the steely grey eyes of none other than Sirius Black. He smirked, keeping his grip on your arms. “Falling for me already? I don’t even know your name-“

“As if!” Yanking yourself from him, you looked up with a scowl. He met your eyes with a mischievous glint in his. He stepped in front of you as you tried to leave, blocking you in. You went the other way, but he only side-stepped again, wearing that same damn smirk.

“Do you mind?”

“What is it?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.

“What is what? Do you know how vague that was?” You puffed your cheeks out in frustration, face hot and eyebrows furrowed.

“Your name.” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes holding as much resistance as yours did. “I won’t let you go until you tell me it.”

Your face dropped with exasperation, and when he didn’t speak, you let out a dramatic groan. “You’re insufferable. It’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

Sirius flashed a cheeky grin. “I know.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to go.

“But, you said.. You know what? I don’t have time for this!” You shoved past him, stomping furiously towards the snack stand.

“It’s Sirius, by the way!”

“I know who you are!”

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, glowering as you approached the little shack outside the Quidditch stands. Two house-elves bustled around inside, conjuring food from the castle kitchen and handing it to the waiting students. You waited your turn, smiling softly at the elf when you reached the counter. “Hi, Findlay. Can I get two Cornish pastries, two raspberry scones, and three pumpkin juices?”

“Yes, miss!” Findlay repeated your order to the second elf, despite her being right behind him.

The second elf waved her hand, and the food appeared. She put the pastries and scones in a little paper box and closed the top, setting it on the counter before she went back and grabbed the cups filled with pumpkin juice.

“Thank you so much,” you said softly, pulling your wand from your pocket. You lifted the cups in the air and grabbed the box with your freehand, making your way back to the stands. You managed not to spill anything, lowering the cups onto the bench next to Mary and Olivia. Mary looked a bit better, sitting upright by herself and smiling. “I got you a Cornish pastry,” you hummed, sitting down and opening the box. “And I got Olivia two raspberry scones!” You handed the sweets to Olivia, who was beaming.

“You know me so well, (Y/N/N), I swear.” She took a big bite and sighed in delight.

“So what was that all about?” Olivia motioned towards Sirius, who had taken a spot next to Lily. He noticed the pair of you staring, sending a wink your way that made you shiver with detest.

You grunted, lips puckering as you stared into your cup. “Just his usual grimy tendencies.”

Suddenly, Mary began rapidly smacking your leg. Her other hand pointed towards the grass, crumbs falling from her pastry as she emphasized her point. “Merlin’s beard, look!”

You looked at the field and nearly choked. James had dropped his broomstick and was in the process of removing his gloves as he stormed towards Antonin Dolohov, who had also landed.

“Oh my God, they’re going to fight,” Olivia exclaimed, jumping up to get a better view. You and Mary followed suit, watching intently.

Sure enough, Dolohov barked something you couldn’t hear, and James connected his fist with the male’s face. Both boys exchanged hits, rolling around the grass like fighting dogs. The rest of their teams landed and attempted to break them up, but they continued to wrestle. Hooch blew her whistle and ran towards the two, deducting House points left and right.

Sirius, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew joined the crowd surrounding the brawl, and Sirius successfully pulled James away. Even from the stands, you could see the blood pouring from James’s split lip. Dolohov looked worse, with a growing lump on the side of his head and a bloody nose.

The Quidditch announcer called off the match, and everyone in the crowd groaned and protested. You picked up your food and sighed, looking at Mary. “Let’s go meet Nadeen. I’m sure she’s narked.”

“Absolutely ridiculous!” Nadeen threw her broomstick onto the ground, ripping her gloves from her hands and tossing them down as well. “We were winning, Potter!”

You could heard her shrieking halfway down the field as your group weaved through the surrounding crowd to reach her.

“He needed his ass kicked,” James barked, spitting out the blood that seeped into his mouth. The sight of him a little roughed up and angry sent warm tingles down your stomach. You quickly looked back to Nadeen, ignoring the oncoming timidness of being so close to James.

“You did good while it lasted, Dee,” Mary smiled sweetly, placing a hand on the lighter girl’s shoulder. Nadeen shrugged it off, focusing her glower on James.

“We nearly had it, had someone been able to behave!”

“Keep yapping, and you’ll be running laps around the Whomping Willow next practice,” James warned, only half-heartedly joking. He perked up when he saw Lily making her way through the crowd, frown curling up into a cheesy smile. He looked back at your friends, and then you, before walking away with a simple, “See you around, ladies.”

Your heart fluttered at the minuscule eye contact you’d made with him, and you couldn’t help but let a smile plaster your face. Nadeen awoke you from your dreamy gaze as she snapped her fingers in front of your face.

“You’re ogling again. Come on, I want to get out of here.”

Mary and Olivia wrapped their arms in Nadeen’s, walking with her as she made her way off the field. You faltered for a second, casting a weary glance over your shoulder as you heard Lily begin to bicker with James about representing Gryffindor and acting his age. You sighed, shaking your head. She didn’t understand him. His passion for Quidditch was clearly evident in his actions, and you’d only wished you had a hobby as such. But, she only saw immaturity and primal instincts.

“Come on, (Y/N)! Catch up!”

“Coming!” You yelled back, leaving your love in the dust.

Back in the common room, you sunk into the loveseat in front of the fireplace. You watched your friends giggle and gossip as they relaxed from a winding Saturday. You had nothing to add to their blooming conversations about who liked who and what happened in the boys’ washroom in the North corridor. Your mind wandered itself into tangles about your studies, James, and your onset discomfort around the castle.

Hogwarts, a home away from home, began to feel cold and unwelcoming. Whether you were walking through the courtyard, or studying in the library, the feeling of unease never left you. While Mary offered her utmost sympathies to you, you knew she couldn’t fathom the feeling of feeling out of place. Even when her blood status was the hot topic of the hour, she never once faltered from her belief that Hogwarts loved everyone.

Whether the feeling stemmed from the growing concern of your current schoolmates crossing over to the enemy, or your growing broken heart, you secretly wished you’d stayed home this year.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” Mary plucked you from your thoughts, dark eyes softly looking you over. “You’ve been quiet ever since the Quidditch match.”

You offered a weak smile, pulling yourself to your feet. “I’ve just been thinking about that paper for Binn’s class. I think my second paragraph is entirely off topic.” You smoothed out your skirt, starting to walk towards the stairs towards your dorm. “I think I need to rewrite it.”

“Do you need any help? I’ll let you read mine,” Olivia offered, sitting up in her seat to stand up.

“No, that’s alright,” you quickly shot her down, desperately wanting to be alone with your thoughts. “I’m just going to grab my books and head to the library. I’ll see you all at dinner.”

Your friends all exchanged confused glances as you quickly sprinted up the stairs, feeling out of place in your own skin.

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sixofpomegranates · 3 years

Text

Rain in California - Act 1 - California

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 1 - California🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ | 🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 9.4k

A/N: The music used in this story is not owned by me (obviously) & I used it in the same style that 'Rock of ages' and 'Mamma Mia' used songs. I gave them a different meaning and context. The meaning and context are NOT representing the one that the ORIGINAL ARTIST had.

TW: ANGST, mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, stalking, death by overdose, mentions of OD, passive aggressiveness, arguing,

Songs in this Chapter: La di die – Nessa Berrett Going to Hell | My Medicine | Heaven Knows – The Pretty Reckless

“Spence?”

Spencer looked up from his book.

Oh, so now he was allowed to talk with them about the case.

Since the briefing they hadn’t talked to him about anything. Spencer had to beg them, to let him work on this case.

He had really felt left out and why?

Because the stalking victim was a famous Rockstar with addiction issues. Spencer was hurt about his team not wanting him to be on the case because of this. Yes, he had struggled with addiction in the past, but he had been clean for over ten years now.

Was this unfair treatment…this distrust in his sobriety, ever going to stop?

It wasn’t like they had cared much about it when Emily had faked her death or when Maeve died, but this, for them, looked like a too high risk? Because there was a pretty girl involved?

He tried his best not to sound passive aggressive when responding.

“Yeah, JJ?”, with success.

“I asked if everything´s okay.”

“Sure. Why should anything be wrong?”, the blonde shrugged a little, an apologetic look on her face.

“Well the case-“ “It´s just a stalking case. Nothing we haven’t already seen. I actually wonder why we even need to come. The stalker isn’t aggressive and hasn´t hurt anybody. Right now he´s just importunate. The police should be able to catch this unsub themselves.”, he had accidently let a little of his passive aggressiveness slip and Emily, who was sitting next to JJ, looked at him.

“The record label convinced the police to contact us. They seem worried about their artist.”

“From what I know…this girl can take care of herself.”, Luke snickered, earning himself a ‘Come on, really?’-look from Emily. “Sorry, but have you seen or listened to her music? She could probably beat Reid in a fist fight.”

“Just because she´s making rock music, doesn’t mean she´s tough. But we should talk a little about the case, Reid if you ever feel unco-“, he quickly interrupted her with a snappy tone.

“Why, because she´s an addict? I don’t care about that.”, Emily lifted her hands in a calming manner.

“Okay, jeez. Just the way you´re on edge, since the briefing, doesn’t look like you are okay.”, Spencer took a deep breath, trying to talk calmer this time, now almost pleading in tone.

“I-I know. But I´m clean since was twenty-six. I never touched anything again and I don’t feel the need to. I even regulate my alcohol intake, never drinking more than a beer, maybe two glasses of whiskey. Which means, that statistically all of you are at a higher risk, of becoming addicted, during this case, then I am. You guys need to trust me.”, the dark haired woman sighed and nodded.

“You´re right. I´m- We´re just worried. You´re our friend, Spencer.”, she handed him a file. “Just promise me you talk to one of us, if something changes.”

He nodded opening the file. A picture of [y/n] looked at him. Dark heavy make-up, dark clothing and jet black hair with colorful streaks.

His younger self would´ve been as attracted as terrified of her.

He flipped through the pages. [y/n] [y/l/n]. Twenty-six years old. Stalker since approximately two years. Nothing extremely outstanding for a stalking case…which was kinda outstanding. No letters, no calls, no pictures, no break in, no threats…sometimes she would get random, expensive present delivered to her mansion, but that was it. Given that she was famous, this presents did not even have to be from a stalker.

“Are we sure there´s even is a stalker?”, Spencer frowned at his own question, Emily shrugged as a response.

“According to the manager, Philip Schuyler, since the first time she played his concerns down, he gets these calls of a man asking for [y/n] and how she is doing. The label didn’t take it serious after he told them, but then the unsub stole the last finished album from [y/n]´s band ‘Shot Monarch’, before it could get released and distributed, also erasing every digitally existing copy. He then called the manager and send the owner of the record label a letter; typed on a computer, no fingerprints; stating that he wanted to be taken serious. Later [y/n] got the USB, containing all her songs, with a dozen white lilies, her favorite, back per mail with an apology letter; stating that she had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to worry, since he could never harm her or her carrier. That´s when the label pushed the police to contact us.”

“Because they are worried about the music…not the woman.”, JJ sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, that´s the industry. At least her manager is worried. Police states that he got himself a gun license after that and tries to be everywhere [y/n] is.”, Luke added.

“Something about that is off.”, Spencer whispered, rubbing his stubbles, before looking at JJ, Emily and Luke again. “There is nothing that indicates a stalker, but every time somebody doubts his existence, he does something noticeable. I know she is famous and that comes with the stigma of having crazed fans as stalkers, but most stalking in general is committed by someone known to the victim, such as an ex-partner or acquaintance. We should check that out.”, JJ nodded.

“It would also be smart if one of us stays by her site.”, Luke quickly raised his hand.

“I volunteer. I- Like- Really! If necessary I´ll sleep in the SUV.”, Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Can it be that you´re a fan? I heard you and Penelope freak out a little over the case earlier.”, a shy smirk appeared on his lips.

“‘Shot Monarch’ has really good music. Since my road trip a year ago, I love their stuff. Penelope actually tol-”, Spencer interrupted him determined.

“I´ll do it.”, Emily quickly shook her head.

“Reid, no.” “Why not?”, his voice got high, making him quickly cleared his throat. “Because-“ “Because she is taking drugs. Do you trust me that little, Emily?”, Spencer snapped at her and she leaned back into her seat. Sure the others from the team were older than him, but he was in his late thirties, and yet was treated like a child.

“Fine. If you think you can handle it, do it. But stop being so sassy, I hate that.”, Emily looked at look in defeat. “Luke tell him what you know about [y/n] and the band.”, he nodded pulling out his phone.

“Okay so, [y/n] is the lead singer of ‘Shot Monarch’. She´s from a small town in Ohio and came to LA when she was eighteen, to become a singer after going viral. They are a band since five years, the name never really got explained by them, but it has something to do with the butterfly; at least that’s a fan theory I now from Penelope. Plus it makes sense, because [y/n] has a tattoo of one on the back of her hand.”, Luke flipped through some pictures of older man, reminding Spencer of bikers and insurance agents at the same time. Like middle-aged fathers that liked rock but still had a nine-to-five job.

“Hank, the guitarist, was a lawyer before and in a cover band with his high school friends Tom, the bassist, who worked for an insurance company, and Leroy, the drummer, who was history teacher and is also married to Hank. They met [y/n] at an open mic night and even though she´s twenty-six and they are in their late forties, early fifties, they got along so well, that they became a band. That´s ‘Going to Hell’ by the way. One of the more controversial songs.”, Luke pressed play on the video and already moved the lips to the lyrics.

“Father did you miss me,

Been locked up a while.

I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.

Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.

Now I'm versed in so much worse,

So I am back again, and he said

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

“The guitar you´re hearing is a classic Hank. That guy knows what he´s doing.”, Luke added, seemingly in his element, reminding Spencer a lot of Garcia when she was excited.

Spencer nodded and watched the music video, the overall theme was dark and heavy. [y/n] voice was nice, a little smoky and strong, but everything just sounded so angry. Not really his style, although he preferred older, classical music in general over the ‘normal’ things ‘normal’ people liked. [y/n] wore tightfitting latex, while the men from her band mostly just wore black jeans and shirts, sometimes leather jackets. At one time, she was surrounded by snakes, only wearing white lingerie. She was really pretty, red lipstick making her look like a biting version of Snow White. Like a princess that would rather save herself, becoming the villain along the way, before letting someone else save her.

“Father did you miss me,

Don't ask me where I've been.

You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

And he said

For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!

For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.

I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.

For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

The lyrics and symbolistic in the video mocked parts of the Christian belief system. Such as the bite Eve had taken from the apple, showing [y/n] taking a bite from the forbitten fruit. The last supper and the crucifixion were shown with a dark twist too. This could be a hint of rebellion, to cope with religious trauma, or simply be a way to cause controversy.

“Please forgive me father,

I didn't mean to bother you.

The devil's in me father.

He's inside of everything I do.

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!

For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!

For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.

My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.

For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

As the video ended Luke took his phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Their earlier stuff had a little more emotion to it, was about heartbreak, suffering and made you feel. This is one of the more recent ones and you can hear that it´s now mostly just stuff like sex, drugs and anger. Most people think that´s because [y/n] writes all of their music and she´s…seen better days…”, Luke sighed, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.

“Because she started taking drugs?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Luke shook his head. “Oh, no. She, according to many rumors and an interview with her father, has taken drugs since she was a teen. But at this point…she just simply seems to have given up, having chosen to not go deeper with her songs anymore. I mean, they still slap. They just don’t slap your heart anymore, you know?”

“Not so nice, when your father talks to the press about your addiction. Could her father be a suspect?”, JJ asked, making Luke shrug and shake his head at the same time.

“Most likely not. He said in that interview that he wishes her the best, but doesn’t want to speak to her again.”, Emily mouthed a silent ‘ouch’, the whole talk about the rockstars private life making Spencer think.

“Maybe that´s part why she´s taking drugs? Often people use them to cope with-“, Emily interrupted him, profiling [y/n] and her substance abuse, quickly.

“Reid. We´re not going there to fix her, just the stalking situation.”, he nodded, knowing that he had a savior complex, always trying to help and save everybody.

“Exes?”, Spencer asked and Luke shook his head.

“Just one is known, Dean Lennox, singer, now married with kids. He and [y/n] were together for two years and according to him it was toxic. Like, always fighting, jealousy, distrust, fear of being left but she still didn’t want him close at the same time, lying. After their last breakup, he told a gossip magazine, he just couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore. She never commented on it.”, JJ looked at Spencer worried.

“She seems like a handful, are you sure you can handle her alone?”, he chuckled while nodding.

“I´ve been through worse. How hard can it be to watch a twenty-six year old? When she, like Luke said, really doesn’t want anyone close, I´ll just sit on her couch and let her do her thing.”

*****

After landing in Los Angeles and checking into their hotel, the team drove to police station. There already waited a massage for them with an address. It was from the manager, he wrote that he was terribly sorry, but they needed to come to the recording studio, since the band was on a tight schedule all morning. Luke had tried his best, but Spencer could see his excitement through his tough-guy-façade. He, JJ, Luke and Emily took one of the SUV´s and drove to the address.

The building they entered was large and with great security. Expensive, white marble flooring in the entire entrance hall. They showed their batches to the lady at the front desk and the security, she called somebody and soon a short, pudgy man, dressed in a designer suit walked out of the elevator and up to them. He smiled at them friendly and shook everyone’s hand.

“Ah, the agents. I am so glad that you´re here. Hi. Hello. I´m Philip Schuyler, the manager of ‘Shot Monarch’.”, Emily shook his hand and pointed at the team.

“Nice to meet you. I´m unit chief SSA Prentiss, those are SSA Jareau, Alvez and that´s Dr. Spencer Reid. He will take on the job as bodyguard for Miss [y/l/n].”, the man scratched his brown hair, avoiding the bald spot on top.

“Yes, uhm, please just call her [y/n]. She really dislikes being called Miss [y/l/n]. We also already have police and security around her house, so I don’t know how important a personal bodyguard is. I really want this case solved and it would be terrible if we would hinder your work.”, Spencer lifted a finger.

“Actually, it would be better if I´m able to stay close to [y/n]. Normal police and security could probably oversee minor details about the stalker, Mr. Schuyler.”, the man waved off.

“Please, Mr. Schuyler was my father. Philip is completely fine. Everybody calls me that.”, he started walking to the elevator and the agents followed him. “Right now the band´s having a little break. After that, we need to record one more song for the ‘live in the studio’-version of their new album, that just came out. Are you familiar with their music?”, they got into the elevator and Luke already nodded.

“Yeah. Really great. Big fan.”, Emily lifted her hand, silencing Luke.

“I´m sorry. If that´s a problem we can-“, Philip laughed, interrupting her.

“Oh, no, no. [y/n] will love that. She likes meeting fans and showing off her music.”

They got out of the elevator, walked through the little hallway and entered the large double door in front of them. There was the recording studio. A lot of technical things, Spencer didn’t know much of, and a large glass wall in front of it, showing another room.

The recording room was large, with a black leather couch and beanbags in it and nice, warm, wooden flooring. A drum set was placed on an vintage looking, red carpet and the overall lighting was warm and inviting as well. The door to the room was open and he could hear the three men, from the band, talking and laughing inside.

“Guys, can you come out for a bit?”, Philip asked them and they looked up, walking up to them. “Okay, uhm, guys, those are the agents from the FBI. You know? The once coming because of [y/n]´s stalker.”, the largest man, a head taller than Spencer, smiled through his long grey beard that contrasted his bald head.

“Nice to meet you then, I´m Hank. That my husband Leroy,”, they shook hands with the dark skinned, skinny man, who in contrast to his husband was cleanshaven, with short black hair and glasses, “and that´s our friend Tom.”, the chubby, white, blond waved at them friendly.

“Why would like to talk with each of you individually, later at the police station, if that is possible.”, Emily said before introducing her team again, also mentioning Spencer´s duty as bodyguard. Leroy grimaced his face.

“Uh, [y/n] will hate that. The girl does not like being babysat.” “I´m not going to babysit her.”, Spencer answered, making Leroy chuckle. “That´s not how she will see it though.”, Hank sighed and put a hand on Spencer´s shoulder.

“Our girl is going through a lot right now. So it would be nice of you, to not take everything she´s saying personally, okay?”

“Personally?”

Spencer raised his eyebrows. He desperately hoped [y/n] wouldn’t be a bitch the entire time, since he couldn’t promise to not give her a piece of his mind, if so.

“[y/n]´s a little belligerent…Easy to get triggered and then she blows up like a bomb.”, Tom said and JJ cocked her head. “Is the stalking getting at her?”, Leroy shook his head. “Not really. But her mother died a few months ago and since then…little rough patch. She´ll get better. We all hit rock bottom once.”

“Is she going to therapy?”, Emily asked straight forward, making Tom, the chubby one chuckle. “Not since she hit the last therapist a few years ago. We paid his medical expenses and he was nice enough to not sue her. But we are here to help her, once she´s ready to let us.” “Must be exhausting, for you.”, JJ said empathetic and all the men waved off.

“Because of the drugs? No, it´s not that bad. She´ll collect herself. I have seven kids. Four of them are going through puberty right now. Phil has a toddler and Leroy and Hank have three rescue dogs and a couple of snakes. We can handle her.”, Tom laughed and the rest of the men started too.

“And that little stalker…Imma just say, I´m gonna rip him a new one, should I ever get the chance of meeting him. Counts for all of us.”, Hank added with everyone nodding in agreement.

“[y/n]´s a really nice girl and she´s been through a lot. If you´re nice to her, chances are high she´ll warm up to you and you won´t have any problems.”, Tom said to Spencer making him nod.

“And if she doesn’t?”, the tall doctor didn’t get an answer and just witnessed the rockers share a look.

Nice girl. Drug issues not so bad. Be nice and maybe she´s nice to you. For Spencer all of that sounded like he would have to walk around on eggshells, while she would blast through walls like a wrecking ball. The manager, Philip, checked his watch and looked around.

“So, where´s [y/n]? One more song and we´re done. Would be great not to hold up the investigation for too long.”

“She went to the toilet thirty minutes ago. We just ate our sandwiches. She said she wasn’t hungry.”, Leroy answered and at the same moment [y/n] walked in.

Spencer looked at her and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Short, high waisted, leather skirt, low cut, tank top and biker boots, all black, rounded off with fishnet stockings. [y/n] looked like she had climbed out of a teenagers wet dream. The perfect, little goth-girlfriend. She stretched a little and Philip looked at her.

“Bonjour, Philly.”, she said with a sassy undertone, while walking up to him and leaning on his shoulder. He was the same high as her, which wasn’t really tall, about 5,4, if Spencer had to guess.

“Hey, where were you?”, the pudgy man asked her.

“Took a nap in my car.”, she booped his nose and gave him a sheepish little smile. Spencer knew she was high. In fact the whole room knew it.

“You drove here?”, Tom asked shocked and [y/n] grinned sarcastically.

“I guess so, else somebody explain to me why my car´s here.”, Phillip patted her shoulder, looking worried as she took four pills out of an orange pillbox from her bag. He gave her a glass of water and she swallowed them. The men from her band looked at her concerned, making her give them a pearly white smile.

“Headache.”, she explained and they only nodded. Spencer couldn’t help but think, that she wasn’t having a headache and even if she had, it was probably a withdrawal symptom.

“You know that I don’t want you to drive when you´re…”, her manager looked at the agents and stopped talking, making her look at them as well.

“What? Why´d you stop talking? That the fun police?”, she started giggling at her own joke, making the band chuckle, since she clearly didn’t know how accurate she was with her joke.

“That´s the FBI, Princess.”, Hank told her and she made a fake shocked face and then laughed again.

“Officer- No wait, agents, right? I swear I did nothing wrong. Weed´s legal in Cali.”

The team shared some looks and Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. [y/n] was not just on weed. Most definitely not just on weed.

“They are here because of your stalker.”, Philip explained and she shrugged almost disappointed.

“Oh, that guy. Well, then hello. Nice to meet you. I´m [y/n].”

She shook hands with JJ and Emily as they introduced themselves. Luke couldn’t help but breathe in sharply, as he shook her hand and almost choked on his own spit as an aftereffect. She started patting his back with wide opened eyes.

“Shit, you okay? Asthma?”, [y/n] reached into her black, designer handbag and gave him a bottle with clear liquid. Luke took a sip, quickly grimaced his face and began coughing harder.

“Vodka.”, he stated through his coughing. [y/n] quickly took the bottle from him and took a sip too, without flinching. She then started cracking up at her mistake.

“Whoops. Mixed up the bottles, the other´s probably in my car. Philly, can you bring him…?”, Philip nodded and gave Luke a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge.

Wow. Vodka hidden in a water bottle. Spencer licked his lips, taking in the view of her bandmates looking at each other. ‘Not that bad’ looked different. ‘Not that bad’ would not have her sleeping in her car, midday, with a bottle of ‘water’ and coming back high as a kite. Luke, by now, had stopped coughing and [y/n] stepped away from him again.

“You good?”, she asked him, watching him wipe away his tears.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry.”, the black haired girl waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry. I had asthma till I was twelve.”, he shook his head.

“I- I- No asthma. Just a really big fan.”, she started laughing again and although the light was dimmed, Reid could clearly see Luke´s cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that´s cute. But ‘Take My Breath Away’ is by Berlin.”, that sentence actually made the whole room laugh except for Spencer, who didn’t understand the reference. “What´s your name?”

“Luke Alvez.”, she shook his hand again, this time he didn’t almost choke.

“Well, nice to meet you, Luke. What´s your favorite song of ours?”

“25, no doubt. Really amazing. Like a James Bond song.”, the bandmates chuckled.

“We said that too.”, Leroy snickered, patting Luke´s shoulder and [y/n] nodded.

“It´s also my favorite. Excited to hear one of the new songs?”, Luke nodded excited and she turned her head to Spencer. “We both don’t know each other yet. Hi, I´m [y/n] and you are?”

She sounded quite collected. Clearly high, but able to think straight if necessary. [y/n] must´ve been doing this for a while now, seeming to have figured out, how much she could handle while working. Spencer had been at that point too once. You wanted to do your work and be good at it, but needed to be high, to make it through the day. So you just tried over a period of time, bit by bit, how much you were able to take before doing a shitty job. ‘Not that bad’ didn’t make you figuring out a system to be high all the time.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”, he shook her hand.

“Dr. Reid will be your bodyguard, [y/n].”, Philip explained and quickly earned an angry look, as she let go of Spencer´s hand instantly.

“What? I don’t need a bodyguard, we talked about this.”, she hissed at her manager, but then started laughing after looking Spencer up and down. “And then that guy?”, Philip nodded as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do not take it personally’, Spencer told himself.

“I am more than capable of protecting you.”, he stated as friendly as possible, making her giggle.

“From what? A difficult math question?”

[y/n] mocking tone started to piss him off, but as Spencer felt Emily´s look on him, he played it cool. After all, he had to proof himself able to handle her.

“Your stalker.”, he corrected her and she licked her lips, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, looking at Luke.

“Since you don’t have asthma, would you mind if I…?”, Luke shook his head and she smiled. “Nice.”, she looked back at Spencer, at his gun. “Philip has a gun too.” “But Philip isn’t an FBI agent.”, Hank told her, making her shake her head in protest, like a little child.

“That´s ridiculous. And all of that just because a stranger sends me stuff, people send me stuff all the time.”

“You should be more worried about this guy.”, Leroy said and Tom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what if he´s dangerous?”

“What´s the worst that could happen, like honestly, Doctor?”, she cocked her head at Spencer, looking up at him with an almost flirty smile.

“He could kill you.”, he gave back objectively, making the rockers obviously worried. “Geez. You make that sound like it´s a bad thing.”, she snickered and looked over to Luke. “Luke, wanna hear some music?”, he nodded.

“It would be an honor.”, his sentence made her giggle as she walked past him.

“You´re really cute.”

[y/n] walked into the recording room, Tom, Leroy and Hank following her. She put on her headphones and lit a cigarette, putting the package on the little table next to her mic. Philip closed the door and started pushing some buttons on the sound mixer in front of him. JJ whistled impressed.

“You do the technical stuff too?”, he nodded, chuckling.

“Since the stalking started, I try having as little people near [y/n] as possible. Thought it might just be a little crush from a weirdo and when he doesn’t get to see her, he gets over it.” “We need a list of the people that worked here though.”, Emily told him and he nodded.

“Of course.”, then he pushed a button and started talking into his microphone. “You guys, ready? Last song. ‘My Medicine’, then we can go home.”

They all approved of his words and started to playing. [y/n] relighting her cigarette and clearing her throat. Spencer couldn’t tell if that was her simply not caring or doing it for the feeling of the song. However, it seemed to fit the style.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

“I love this already.”, Luke whispered and JJ chuckled.

“You haven’t even heard anything yet.”, she snickered.

“Doesn’t matter, the feeling is there.”, he lifted his arms, showing her his goosebumps.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

And somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

Spencer watched [y/n] starting to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips and tapping her left foot to the beat, then looked to Philip pressing some buttons.

“She´s gonna be happy with that one.”, he whispered almost to himself and the next time Spencer looked at the band again, it almost felt like she was attentionally singing in his direction.

“Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh

See you cross the room with that look in your eye

Got a man to his left and a girl to his right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

She started moving her head in a way that made her long black hair fall in her face, framing her features almost delicately. While Spencer starred and earned some grins from [y/n], he could hear Luke whisper with Emily, who actually seemed to like the music too.

“There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet”

The room laughed and Spencer looked confused, having JJ tell him, that it was a movie reference. Sometime he felt like an alien, having such simple references fly over his head. Star Trek or Book references would´ve been easier for him…although he still didn’t know what that ‘Twilight’ book was Penelope and JJ talked about a couple of times. Or that other book all the women had talked about in their break….what was it called, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’? They had told him it was a romance novel, so he just assumed it was like ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

“Pour another drink mom I don't even want it

Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you”

Philip pressed some buttons again, [y/n] now harmonizing with herself.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again again

And somebody mixed my medicine

Again, again, again

Again, again, again”

The music started to slow down again, just like [y/n] movements, making Luke whisper words in awe.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

Philip and the team applauded as [y/n] took her headphones off and the men put their instruments away.

“I´m happy with that.”, she said looking at Philip. “You, Philly?”

“Sounded great to me.”, he gave back, happy to answer.

“What about my new favorite fan. Luke?”, Luke quickly pushed Spencer aside to get to the microphone.

“Loved every second of it! Like- Amazing! Really!”, she giggled, throwing her head back and came through the door.

“What about my new guard dog?”, Spencer pointed at himself, not knowing if she was talking about him. “Of course you. So, what do you think, Doctor?”

“I- I don’t really know.”, she raised her eyebrows at his answer.

“Okay? Was it the drugs or just the music in general?”, he felt himself go pale. “Ah, okay. You´re prude, get it. I mean you already have that whole tutor-thing about you, so…Bach or Chopin?”

“Pardon?” “Which one? Or is it Mozart, or the deaf bitch, Beethoven?”, she grinned snarky.

[y/n] had a mocking tone in her voice, making Spencer feel embarrassed and like he was in school again, when the other kids in high school were making fun of him for not being cool enough. But he was too old to be bullied by a little junkie, who thought she was better than him.

“I´m surprised somebody like you would even know them.”, her smile vanished.

“Little bitch.”, she snapped at him, stepping closer as he cocked his eyebrows at her. Philip quickly walked between the two of them and smiled.

“So, what are we doing next? The albums done. Taken care of. [y/n] have you eaten something today? You wanna go out for dinner?”

“No, I haven’t and no, I don’t want to, when THAT is around.”, with ‘that’ she clearly meant Spencer.

“Now don’t be grumpy, Princess. You started it.”, Hank told her and she started to pout, shoulders relaxing.

“Wasn’t worth my time anyways.”, she murmured and Spencer felt himself getting proud. This was the first person, trying to bully him, he had stand a chance against.

“So, we´re gonna need you at the police station, if that´s okay?”, Emily asked Leroy, Hank and Tom, who nodded. “And Spencer, you should take [y/n] home and check out her house.” “Mansion.”, [y/n] corrected Emily. “I have a mansion. Worked too hard to have it being called a house.”, Emily only nodded, not letting herself get bothered by her words. Philip nodded, completely ignoring his clients snappiness too.

“I follow you in my car.”, he told Spencer. “[y/n] give Dr. Reid your keys, please.”, she shook her head indignant.

“No. That guy is not driving my car. I´ll drive.”, the whole band now started saying no.

“[y/n], you´re not driving.”, Tom ordered and Leroy nodded. “You´ll get an DUI so quick, it´s not even funny.”, Spencer lifted his hand, waiting for the key. “Oh, come on.”, she groaned, looking at her bandmates like her childish behavior would change their mind.

A nice sound. An annoying person, not getting what they want. Almost as beautiful as her [y/e/c] eyes, that actually were rather bloodshot, when Spencer thought about it.

“Should the police pull you over and see that you´re high, they´ll look through your car and I don’t think you want be taking in custody for drug possession, right?”, she handed him her keys and Spencer couldn’t help it and whispered “Thank you”, in the most mocking tone he was able to.

“Fucking cunt.”, she whispered back at him and he just chuckled.

“I´ve been called worse. So your little words don’t hurt me…sorry.”, she then grinned.

“Things like Spencer?”, [y/n] asked him, spitting his name like poison.

Spencer took a deep breath and watched her go out the door, telling himself to not answer her.

“Hey, kid.”, Spencer looked at Hank and he just lifted his thumb.

“You held yourself better than we thought you would.”, Leroy added, Emily looking at Spencer concerned.

“You sure you can handle her?”

He nodded, walking out the door and to the elevator which doors [y/n] was holding open for him.

“Hurry up, bitch boy! I wanna go home.”

*****

Of course the rich, spoiled brat drove an imported sportscar. When Spencer got in, he firstly had to push back the seat, not having enough room for his legs and then tried getting [y/n] to tell him where she lived.

“Try google, smart ass.”, was her answer and he sighed.

[y/n] then rolled down her window and grabbed a joint from her glove compartment. Spencer quickly leaned over and snatched it from her hand, making her whine as she tried getting it back.

“You´re such a bitch. Give me-“, he interrupted her whining.

“No. First tell me you´re address.”, she sat back into her seat.

“Fine. I´ll lead you there.”, [y/n] said, making grabbing motions with her hand and he handed her the joint back. She lit it and smoked out of the window.

Spencer knew he should have questioned why she gave up and let him win so easily. After ten minutes they weren’t at her mansion, they were at a McDonald´s.

“You´re fucking kidding me, right?”, he snapped at her and she began to giggle.

“You´re kina hot when you´re angry.”, her flirty grin and the way she bit her lip made him furious, because it was hot.

“What is wrong with you?”, Spencer almost yelled and she leaned back and pointed somewhere. “I´m hungry. Drive-Through. Over there.”

“No.” “Come on. Don’t be a bitch, dog.”, she snickered, resting her feet on the dashboard.

He looked at her, for a second thinking about simply getting out of the car and leaving, before he could hurt her. Maybe she was really too much for him to handle, the drugs were manageable, but it was her personality that drove him mad, yet he wasn’t someone to give up easily. Cars started to honk behind them.

“You´re holding up the traffic. I just wanted something to eat.”, [y/n] said, now almost annoyed because she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Okay.”, she looked at him confused.

“Okay?”, he nodded, pulling into the Drive-Through. He was above this. ‘Give her what she wants, so she´s at least quiet.’

“You win.”

She started clapping and hugged him, smelling like marijuana and something he couldn’t quite make out. When they came up to the microphone box, [y/n] crawled over Spencer´s lap, forcing him to look and think respectfully. She ordering a bunch of stuff and then looked at him.

“What do you want? I only have booze at home, so…”, he looked at her a little startled. Was she trying to be nice to him?

“You wanna buy me something?”, she nodded like this behavior was normal to her. “Sure.”

“Surprise me. I never eat fast food, I don’t know what´s good.”

She nodded and then told the voice from the box to double her order. Sitting back into her seat, [y/n] took out a hundred dollar bill from her purse, handing it to Spencer. When they pulled up by the window, taking their things, the woman in the window nearly lost it when she saw the rockstar, starting to cry. [y/n] was really nice to her and asked her if she wanted to take a photo in the parking lot. Of course the woman said yes and after paying, where [y/n] had left almost fifty bucks as a tip, Spencer had to park and wait till they had made the photo and given an autograph.

“Okay, now drive before it goes viral. I wanna eat that stuff before it gets cold.”, she told him, taking a sip of one of the milkshakes.

“That was nice.”, she shrugged and then told him her address, telling him she´d scream when they reached it.

*****

Lo and behold, no twenty minutes later they parked in front of [y/n] mansion, next to another, more run down car, belonging to Philip. The mansion would´ve made Rossi´s mansion cry. At least twice as big and the property was enormous. In contrast to [y/n], it was very light and minimalistic from the outside and the inside.

“Most rooms are empty. Too big.”, she explained walking straight into the open living area, that had a large terrace with pool and a view over the Hollywood hills. She put the paper bags filled with food on the large kitchen island and sat on a barstool.

“You could sell it and buy a smaller one.”, [y/n] shrugged and took out a burger, starting to eat it.

“Philip says I´m gonna grow into it.”, she answered, mocking the tone of voice her manager had probably had.

Spencer watched her type something on her phone and a minute later Philip came into the room.

“Hey, where were you? I got worried.”, he asked them and [y/n] handed him a salad.

“It´s the one you always have.”, he smiled at her.

“Thank you. You´re so nice.”, she shrugged at his words, not really caring.

“Yours is in here too, dog.”, she now told spencer.

Ah, yes. She was being bitchy again. Spencer had only waited for it to happen. He said nothing, but walked up to the white kitchen isle and took the bag she pointed at.

“Milkshake, burger, fries. Fast food essentials.”, she stated, finishing her small cheeseburger and getting up to her fridge, taking out a beer. She held it to Spencer who declined and then to Philip who did the same. “Lame asses.”, she chuckled, opening it and standing at the counter, watching Spencer eat. “So you´re here for…?”

“Technically it would be the easiest for all of us, if I just stayed.”, she raised her brows.

“Staying like, in my house staying?”, he nodded and she shook her head. “No chance. I enjoy my solitude.”

“[y/n]. If it´s easier for the agent and better for you…”, she sighed, opening a drawer and taking out some pills, swallowing them with her beer. “Fucking hell. But don´t expect me to be considerate of you.”, the rockstar told him.

“Should you consume them with alcohol?”, Spencer asked, taking a bite of his burger and she shrugged.

“I´m going to sleep…you guys…do what you want, I don’t care…”

“Do you need me to do your laundry?”, Philip asked and [y/n] shrugged again, it seemed to be her favorite motion. As she walked down the hallways and Phillip yelled after her. “Don’t forget that you have a gig tonight, [y/n]!”

“THAT`S WHY I`M GOING TO SLEEP NOW, DUMB ASS! WAKE ME UP WHEN WE NEED TO GO!”, she yelled back, followed by the smashing of a door.

“She´s a nice girl.”, Philip said in the middle of the silence, as Spencer took place on one of the barstools.

“Like a car crash.”, the man in his fifties chuckled.

“I know she´s difficult, but in here she´s good.”, he pointed at his heart. “She has suffered a lot of losses in her life.”

“Then, just as a random thought, you should get into therapy before she OD´s.”, Spencer answered sassy.

“I know what you mean. But as long as she doesn’t want help or overdoes it…she has a system.”, Spencer let his head fall back and groaned.

“You know about that fucking thing?” “You too?”, Philip asked back in surprise. “Profiler. Took me no longer than the nap in her car, to figure that out.”

Yes, a small lie from Spencer, but it sounded better then: Oh yes, I was addicted to dilaudid once. I had a system too!

“Tell me, how does that train wreck of a system work?”, Philip leaned back from his salad.

“Well, she takes her painkillers in the morning and smokes some cannabis to get out of bed. When we´re touring or she has to be at shootings, interviews or anything else that needs her to focus, she only smokes and takes the pills all day, alcohol in water bottles is a new one though.”, Spencer sighed and thought if he even wanted to know more.

“And when she´s alone or not busy?” “Then she does the harder stuff.” ��Harder stuff like cocaine, LSD…?”, Philip nodded. “Nothing with needles though…she´s scared of them.”

“She will not always be, if she continues like that.” “I know. That´s why I do my best to keep her busy. She even has her own recording studio here, knows how to handle everything herself. I thought it might make her spend more time making music than getting high. I also go out with her a lot, to a point where my wife starts to get jealous.”, he laughed bittersweetly. “Have you ever been to Disney World, agent?”, Spencer shook his head. “I take [y/n] there once a week, because she likes it there. I spend more time with her there then with my own daughter.”, [y/n] was famous, no chance people wouldn’t notice her.

“Does she even get to do anything there?”

“Not often. She mostly meets her fans there, but she loves that a lot. She is really sweet to them too, they mean everything to her.”

That was the first time Philip had said something that was true about [y/n]. She had, not once been mean to a fan. The complete opposite actually. She had been nice and thoughtful, going out of her way to make the woman at the Drive-Through happy and was nice to Luke.

“I know she was a little mean to you today, but she also bought us food, seeing it as a matter of course. There are two sides to every person, like a coin.”, Like a coin, just that [y/n] sides flipped as quickly like one too. Philip sighed and got up from his barstool. “I´ll show you around a little, if you want to.”

Spencer nodded, getting up, following the short man around the house.

*****

[y/n] had been right.

It was way too big and many of the rooms were empty. When Spencer asked Philip about the necessity of such a big mansion, he told him, that he had hoped to motivate [y/n] to have a family one day. But now the only rooms in use were her bedroom, one of the five guest bedrooms, which Spencer got to stay in, the open living area with kitchen and living room, the recording studio and a little library. The latter made Spencer a little jealous. In the middle of the room even stood a white piano with notes on it. [y/n] also had a lot of books, all dusty, because she never read anymore. He would´ve killed to have his own library…she probably didn’t even value what she had.

When they returned into the living area, Philip gave Spencer some spare keys, beginning to clean up a little and putting the food in the fridge. [y/n] didn’t lie, when she said, she only had alcohol at home. JJ came over and brought Spencer his go bag, asking him how it was going. Of course he said he was doing great, but couldn’t help but rant to her about [y/n]´s behavior.

“Well, she is an addict, Spence. You know how erratic some drugs can make you.”, he nodded.

“Yeah, but she really tries pushing me and then, one second to the other, she´s nice and polite. Have you talked to her bandmates?”, JJ laughed.

“Way too long. We had interviews with them and then Luke just couldn’t stop talking to them, he has also taken about a million pictures with them and facetimed Penelope so she could meet them too.”, Spencer chuckled.

“Sounds like they had a good time. Anything else happened? Found out something?”

“[y/n]´s mother was an addict and left the family when she was younger. When she found out her daughter was famous, she got back in touch with her, to borrow money. [y/n] didn’t care and even got her to live with her, in one of the guest bedrooms. She overdosed a few months ago, since then [y/n]´s addiction got worse.”, Spencer´s eyes got wide.

“She didn’t die in the guest bedroom though, right?”

Just as JJ wanted to answer, [y/n] walked in. Philip walking behind her with a duffle bag.

“She died in the bathroom and she didn’t overdose perse, she drowned after falling unconscious in the bathtub, while being high.”, she answered cold, seeming to have overheard their conversation. [y/n] grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued calmly while taking some colorful pills. “I found her. The bathroom that it happened in is always locked. Don´t worry.”, Philip fidgeted a little with his hands, looking for his keys.

“Uh-Uhm. Agents? We need to go. The concert…”

“You coming too?”, [y/n] asked, looking at JJ and she shrugged. “We could also invite the cute one…Luke. It´s about 20.000 people so two more won´t hurt…right Philly?”, Phillip nodded.

“You´re all invited. SSA Prentiss as well.”, he said and JJ smiled at them.

“Thank you. That´s very nice, but I´ll have to talk to them first.”, [y/n] shrugged at that and drank her beer.

“You have my number, just call when you know. We start half past eight.”, Philip then took the empty beer bottle from [y/n] and threw it away. “Show time.”

*****

Half an hour into the concert Luke had shown up, completely hyped.

“What did I miss? We had some ex-staff members to talk to. Did they already play ‘Going to Hell’?”, Spencer nodded. “Argh, dammit. Doesn’t matter, that song´s amazing too.”

During the whole concert Spencer watched [y/n]. The music wasn’t that bad, a little harsh, but it was mix of hard and alternative rock after all. At least that´s what Penelope said, when Luke started facetiming her. After the last costume change, Spencer pulled [y/n] aside. He asked her to not be so ‘touchy’ with her fans. Since she would kneel down and hold their hands. He tried telling her about the risks of having the unsub in the audience, but she only laughed.

“I´ll be as touchy as I want, bitch.”, he started to frown.

“At least don’t stagedive. Luke says you always do that and the risk of the unsub use-“, she interrupted him, wanting to go on stage.

“Fuck off, dog.”, he held her arm, trying to reason with her.

“Can you ple-“, she tried pulling away, like an angry child.

“No.” “Stop being so fuck-“, [y/n] interrupted him again.

“Stop trying to fucking babysit me.”

“I just want to hel-“, she ripped her arm away. “Yeah, fuck you too.”, the rockstar answered, not letting him finish and walked back on stage.

Philip walked up to Spencer, having seem the ordeal of him trying to talk to [y/n] and him now driving the heel of his palm into his eyes. This girl gave him migraines.

“What happened?”, Philip asked and Luke answered for Spencer.

“He told her not to stagedive.”, Philip laughed a little and shook his head.

“Oh yeah. Never tell her what to do. She hates that and then does it out of spite.”

“You don’t say?”, Spencer answered sarcastically.

On stage [y/n] took her microphone, saying something to her bandmates and then smiling sweetly, while talking to her fans.

“This next song is for my lovely new babysitter, who thinks he can tell me what to do.”, the crowd started booing and she laughed. “I know, I know. But it looks like he doesn’t know how things work around here…So I think we have to help him out a little.”

The music started to play and Luke patted Spencer´s arm.

“She dedicates ‘Heaven Knows’ to you! Penny have you heard? She sings ‘Heaven Knows’ for Reid!”

“NO! SHUT UP!”, the blonde on the phone squeaked.

He and Garcia started to freak out while Spencer watched [y/n] clapping her thigh and stomping to the beat.

“Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close, you can hear him cry

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Sing it!”

She lifted the mic to her audience she started to sing for her.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below, way down below, way down below

“Judy's in the front seat picking up trash

Livin' on the dole, gotta make that cash

Won't be pretty, won't be sweet

She's just sittin' here on her feet singin'

Oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Go!”

Again her fans obeyed her, Luke and Penelope freaking out next to Spencer. If it wouldn’t have been a moment, were he had to fear which move she had planned next to unnerve him, he might have even enjoyed this song and the involvement of her fans in it.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

“Sing, oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below”

She now looked at him for a moment, while her audience sang. Before, again, walking around the stage, touching her fans hands.

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've had better days, man, I've seen better days

I've had better ways, man, I know better ways

One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door

Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie

Show your life with your head held high

Now you're on your knees with a head on low

Big man tells you where to go

Tell them it's good, tell 'em ok

Don't do a goddamn thing they say”

Spencer was surprised how well her fans knew her lyrics. She would just have to point at them or lift her mic and they would instantly sing were she stopped. Not missing a beat.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've seen better ways, and I know better ways

I've seen better days, man, I've got better days”

[y/n] now stood at the edge of the stage, back turned to her audience. She smiled directly at Spencer, fingers held like a gun to her head.

“Gina's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close you can hear the cryin'”

At the last word she mimicked shooting herself and let herself fall back into the crowd. Her fans got wild and continued her song, while Spencer certainly not in a long time, if ever, felt so much spite and frustration against a woman, other than Cat Adams.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Singin' oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

The crown placed [y/n] back on her stage, where she walked up to her bandmates again, waving at Spencer and Luke with the sweetest smile.

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

*****

After the concert and the encores she and the band got behind stage, where Spencer for the least thirty minutes had waited to give her a piece of his mind. As [y/n] giggled and walked up to him and Luke. He grabbed her arm, a little harsher than planned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she blinked at his yelling, answering with her innocent eyes blinking and a mocking tone.

“What´s the prob, dog?”

“What´s- Do you really care so little for your own safety?”, Hank came up to them, having seen Spencer´s grip on the girls arm.

“Hey! What´s going on here? [y/n], are you okay?”, Spencer quickly let go of her.

“Yeah, the dog is just pissing himself because I stage dived.”, he quickly took a deep breath.

“I´m not pissing myself, [y/n], but I told you not to do it. What would you have done when your stalker would´ve been in the crowd and lost it? Nobody would´ve been able to get to you fast enough and help!”, Hank looked at her in disappointed shock.

“Is that true, [y/n]?”, the black haired girl ignored her friend and just continued arguing with Spencer.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anybody’s help!”, she hissed at Spencer.

“Then why are we even here?”, Spencer hissed back. “BECAUSE I BRING MONEY! Else the label would let me rot in a fucking corner! GOD! You are ruining my after-show-high. I hate you!”, [y/n] yelled and Spencer tried not to yell back, tried to be the bigger person, only hissing back at her.

“Oh, trust me. That feeling is mutual.”, she swallowed hard and then turned around, stomping away.

*****

After half an hour waiting, Spencer got a call from Philip, telling him that [y/n] refused to see him again and would be sleeping at his house tonight. He told him, that he should just let himself into the mansion and eat what´s in the fridge. It wasn’t from use, to try talking to [y/n], when she was that angry. Tomorrow Philip would call him and bring her back into Spencer´s care.

Spencer did as told, Luke driving him to the mansion, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He then got into the large, empty mansion and grabbed himself a well-deserved beer. Being alone in this big house was depressing. After his third beer he stopped, walking into his room.

He pulled his blue and gold sobriety token, he had gotten for being clean ten years, out of his bag. Thumb rubbing over the golden X in the middle of it. He actually had deserved a twelve year token by now, but since prison didn’t actively attended the meetings anymore, having grown past it. Yet, he still kept the tokens he had, close to him.

They reminded him of his achievement, reminded him to be proud at himself.

Spencer never wanted to fall back into the dark hole he was in, when he was addicted, and even when [y/n] would throw tantrum after childish tantrum, she wouldn’t cause him to relapse. He was stronger than this. Stronger than her.

To be continued...

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 4

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 3103

WARNINGS: Child abuse, night terrors, fluff

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Six weeks had passed since your ship went down and Maul 'rescued' you. Thanking him with a kiss to his cheek that neither of you mentioned after that night. Since he was rebuilding muscle that used to be there rather than starting from scratch, he built himself back up fairly quickly. Especially because you were constantly nagging at him to eat if he didn’t take the initiative to do it himself at least three times a day. His face was fuller and his arms and chest much more prominent under his trademark deep v tunics. His thighs were also thickening up quite nicely you thought often to yourself. His eyes still glowed gold but it was a honeyed glow like a sunset, so much softer than they once were. No longer bloodshot and raging.

Some days he would push his progress much too far and require soaking in an unbelievably hot bath. You would’ve been almost frightened if he hadn’t told you his core temperature was much higher than yours. You always offered massages to which he would try to turn down but you never really let him refuse. You could tell he wanted them. His entire demeanor would change if you only brushed against him let alone actually dedicated time to rubbing the strain from his muscles. Whatever horrors he dealt with as apprentice to a Sith Lord he had no comfort to turn to before, that much was apparent. Followed by a decade of forced solitude, you always made him melt with ease.

He was a worthy sparring partner to say the least. Despite having new legs, he was incredibly nimble. His muscle memory was powerful at worst, awe striking at best, but he was still easily flustered which was his downfall. Every. Single. Time. Just recently you dodged a swing of his crimson Saber by dropping into a split and throwing your head backwards. The sight of it caused him to lose his footing. One of the goats bleated at him like she was laughing which of course sent you into a giggle fit of your own as you stood back up to your feet clutching your sides.

Today you two would be doing something different though, assuming he would accompany you, which was a safe assumption. The two of you sat at your small table by the kitchen drinking caf, Maul was eating waffles you had freshly cooked while you flipped through an encyclopedia you yourself had written on the planet.

"What are you looking for?" He asked, trying to see what you were reading from the other side of the table.

Leaning back in your chair you took a long drink of your caf, finishing the mug with a sigh. "Well, there's a particular ocean species that lives here that migrate through this side of the planet once every few years. If I remember right, because I can't find my notes..." You stood and walked to refill your cup. "If I remember correctly, they should be passing right by us today or tomorrow or… sometime soon. Honestly I don’t know why I write anything down if I can’t look back on it when I need it.”

Maul suppressed a smirk. He had come to realize that with all your brilliance and various talents you could be unorganized and forgetful. Just the other day he caught you frantically looking for a seventh goat, having to remind you that you only had six. Six goats, seven chickens, one rooster.

Still wearing your dangerously short sleeping shorts and with your back to him, Maul had a moment to admire your legs without threat of you noticing. "What creature is it?" He asked while eyeing a scar on your inner thigh he hadn't noticed before following the curve of your backside.

"Well, they don't have a name, from what I know anyway but they look a lot like the Purgill that live in space. Not nearly as big cause, you know, space is a lot bigger than the ocean here." You stirred cream into your brew and sat back down crossing your legs.

Now he leaned back in his chair, shoulders shaking lightly with a silent chuckle, “you know I did know space was bigger than the ocean here.”

You playfully pointed your spoon at him in a mock warning before smiling and continuing.

"I'm gonna go down to the beach and see if I can find them. They're one of my favorites on this planet. We're nearing the mating and migration time of a few species actually so wildlife is gonna be more apparent around here."

"I'll have to flip through that book of yours and study up." He smiled at you.

"Well you're lucky you have someone like me who knows this planet pretty damn well. Even if I can’t find my notes." You flashed him a returning smile and stood. Your hand ran over his scalp affectionately as you made your way to your room to get dressed for your adventure.

~~~~~

Maker, did she realize exactly what she did to him he wondered. He swore he could still feel her touch after she had left. He was indeed lucky to have her, not just for her knowledge of this strange world. A now familiar knot grew in his belly once again, the same one that never failed to show up when she touched him. He wasn't sure what it was.

He stood and cleared the table, washing the dishes from their breakfast in the sink. The first time he did this she had actually flustered almost embarrassed 'thank yous' saying she had meant to do them herself. Since that moment he made it his job. After all she did everything else for him. He ran fingers over his hearts down to his belly and gripped where the invisible knot formed. Most of her books were educational, breeching just about every topic at least fundamentally. She did however have a small collection of fiction. One of which he had read that held a romantic theme. Was this what love felt like? Happiness? Is this what Lord Sidious had kept from him his entire life? Or was it simply admiration?

Not ever having felt anything like it before he couldn't say but one thing he did know for a fact. He hoped against all hope that in a way he'd never 'fully recover' fearing once the scale she talked about was perfectly balanced again she'd send him away and continue her life of solitude. She had sought this out. She had chosen this life. This planet, purposefully unpopulated with sentient life. As far as he knew and saw she was the only person here.

His brows furrowed and as if she could sense his distraught increasing, he heard her call to him. "Darling," she mewled just loud enough for him to hear. Possibly too quick he made his way to the door of the fresher where he heard the water running. Darling he thought, he had never heard her call him that before, he was sure.

"There’s a pack hanging from the door, could you fill it with snacks for us? It'll probably be a while on the cliffs." He silently carried out her will, obsessing over the name she had called out from the shower. Thoughts of her naked body dripping with warm water, calling out to him filled his mind. He had to physically shake his head to focus. Just as he finished packing the last Meiloorun she entered the room wearing her usual training garb, barefooted as usual when she dressed in it.

He watched as she added her encyclopedia and another small notebook to the pack along with a pair of electrobinoculars and a blanket. Swinging it over her shoulder she beamed at him obviously excited to see this strange creature.

Once they were out the door she started sprinting calling out "race you!" Maul smiled and gave her a few more seconds head start greedily watching how her body moved so gracefully before taking off after her. Allowing himself to fall into the role of a hunter once again. This however being the only prey he ever really wanted to catch. This was his element. This is where he was most comfortable, chasing, hunting. His legs propelled him forward while his arms pumped at his sides, feeling the wind push him onward towards his goal. It was a long race but her speed never let up, she was incredibly fast but not so fast that she could escape him. Just before she reached the cliff's edge preparing to jump, he darted in front of her and caught her in his arms, spinning from the velocity alone. His arms latched tightly around her waist and hers wrapped around his neck pulling his face to that sweet spot just below her ear.

They sat like that for what felt like only a second but also an eternity before a shaking hum rang through the air. Remembering what she had come for she pulled away excitedly.

"I thought we would be early but maker we made it just in time!" He released her and she jumped off the cliff, falling 200 feet before using the force to slow her fall lowering her safely to the sand below. Maul followed suit and met her where she stood, her toes wet with the tide rolling in over the sand before pulling back out to sea. Salt was heavy in the air but he could still smell her. Making her way back to the rock and clay cliffs she laid out the blanket and took a seat, spreading out her books and setting the food to the side. He joined her, sitting where he hoped wouldn't be too close.

Before his mind could roam too far, she gasped and pointed to the sea clutching his arm in excitement. Breaching out of the depths a giant creature almost took flight but just for a moment, calling out in a singing hum. They had massive heads and rounded teeth with four tentacles that trailed behind them. They were all painted in the same deep blue but had uniquely shaped and colored markings. Unlike their space brethren they didn't have bioluminescent streaks on the inside of their tentacles.

Maul watched in amazement as the creatures sang to one another, jumping and diving back down below like they were dancing for Y/N and his eyes alone. Looking through her electrobinoculars with one hand and sketching furiously with the other in the smaller of the two notebooks, never taking her eyes off of the Sea Purgill, she was entranced.

"Have you ever seen such a beautiful, mysterious creature," she inquired utterly enthralled.

Now he was watching her, smile plastered on her face, cheeks rosy with excitement and salt flecks sticking to her hair. "I can honestly say no, I have not in all my life witnessed such a beauty." She closed her notebook and put away the electrobinoculars, pivoting her head to look into his eyes again; softer than she had ever seen them.

She scooted closer to him so their hips touched and leaned her head against his shoulder. Cautiously, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Together they sat like this for hours, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the mighty creatures frolic through the waves on ahead.

~~~~~

You didn't want to move from this spot. He hadn't touched you since he pulled you from your crashed shuttle yet you found every excuse to make fleeting contact with him. Now, with his strong arm wrapped around you, hand gripping your waist, your head nestled into his chest you could hear his tandem hearts beating. Beating hard, it both soothed and excited you. Falling for this tattooed warrior was not on your original agenda. Falling for anyone at all was never something you craved or saw yourself doing. Not because of the same reasoning as the Jedi you had tutored under. No, you didn’t fear attachment. It had always just looked like a distraction or a nuisance.

Yet you found yourself falling for him nonetheless. Selfishly you had hoped that the scales would never again be balanced because once they do, once he is completely and utterly healed... he would leave. Wouldn't he? Why would he want to stay here on this unpopulated world with you and you alone? He had been forced into his solitude while you had searched for yours. You no longer craved silence; no longer did you wish for the seclusion of this lovely planet. All you wanted was to listen to the velvety melody of his voice, to feel the almost impossible heat he radiated.

If you asked him to stay, would he? If he would ask you to leave with him, would you? You didn’t think you could leave. Not with the war raging across the galaxy. This was the only place where you couldn’t hear every scream of every person torn from life by mindless violence that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place. Feel every tear through the fabric of the force every time a Jedi either fell to the dark side or was killed. You can’t leave, and if you can’t leave for him; how could you ask him to stay for you?

The sun was starting to set and the creatures' appearances became less frequent. A realization dawned on you. Sensing your change Maul lifted his head to look at you, brows furrowed.

"The night of every migration a storm follows these beings. We should head back, whether it's rain or snow or wind it will be brought down on us soon." You watched him stand and extend a hand to you, taking it, he pulled you into a tight embrace. Both arms around you securely he whispered a thank you, lips just brushing against your ear. You didn't ask him what he was thanking you for, simply returning the hug with an equal fervor.

The two of you quickly packed up, leaping up the cliffs and making your way back home. Just as the cottage was in your eyeline the dark sky opened. Temperatures plummeting, snow fell from the heavens with a savage determination. Running now, you locked your animals in the barn and cranked up the heat. Power was hard to come by here with only the infrastructure that you had installed yourself, allowing only one heater for your homestead. Giving it to the animals was an easy decision.

Maul took your hand and ushered you inside, 6 inches had already stuck to the ground and your exposed skin was cold to the touch. Your bare feet no exception. He lit the hearth himself to take the chill off the room and wrapped you in a warm blanket. Before you could even think to ask, he brought you a hot cup of your favorite tea. He glowered over the fact that you still shivered.

He took your blanket and gathered you up into his arms, draping the blanket around the both of you. Holding your freezing feet in his hand. The heat he put off was almost burning against your form but you were more than grateful, sinking into him. You both fell asleep in each other’s arms but the dreams you had that night weren't your own.

A darkly hooded figure stood tall above a scarlet whimpering child. Tears streaked the red and black face of the young boy until the figure spoke. "Did I say you could eat yet?" He asked calmly but with venom in his tone. "N-no master I'm sorry I'm just... so hungr..." the boy was cut off when bolts of electricity shot out of his master and punished the boy. He screamed in agony, his cells burning. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE FROM ME APPRENTICE!" eating in front of the starving boy he screamed and continued to shock him. "YOU WILL KILL AND EAT WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR!" The boy still screaming managed to reply. "Yes master... I'm sorry master... Forgive me... PLEASE." He begged. He was attacked until his body started smoking "WHAT ARE YOU!" His master demanded as he finally released the child. The boy's claws dug into his forehead until he bled, sobbing. "I said WHAT ARE YOU?" his master demanded, shocking him again.

"I AM HUNTER... I AM FEAR... I AM FILTH... I AM NOTHING!" Screaming in torment he fell over, silent. He was tossed out carelessly onto a burning terrain surrounded by fiery pits of lava.

You awoke first, tears falling from your own eyes and you looked upon the man that lay next to you. He was still asleep but he was shaking, whining, nails digging into his own arms. You took his wrists and begged him to wake up.

"Maul... Maul darling please wake up!"

His eyes shot open blown out in fear and snarling, sitting up ready to kill until he focused on you. You softly pushed him down on the couch so he rested on his back. You leaned over him, wrapping your legs around his waist and running your hands soothingly over his body. Peppering his face in kisses whispering "you are safe... you are cared for... you are my joy... you are cleansed... you are everything." Tears welled in his eyes threatening to spill over. He gripped you with bruising fingers as if you would disappear should he let go. "I have you... you're with me... he can't find you here.." you continued to sooth him between tender kisses.

He looked up at you with those shimmering gold eyes, one hand entangling in your hair, he pulled your lips onto his with a desperation. He needed proof that he was in fact awake and not in a different dream. You brushed one of your hands against his cheek and gripped the back of his head, horns between your fingers and deepened the kiss. He slightly opened his mouth in a pleasured moan; eyes rolling back. Taking it as an invitation you glided your tongue over his teeth and against the tip of his tongue which he immediately responded but not the way you expected. He broke the kiss and pulled your body even closer to his as if to turn the two of you into one. For the rest of the night, you held one another, he had never been so thankful for his night terrors.

#maul fluff #maul x reader #star wars maul #jedi knight #sith warrior #star wars #starwars au #swtcw au #star wars fluff #starwars x reader #x reader #maul x y/n #grey jedi

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midnightseonghwa · 3 years

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐤.𝐲𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟒

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Merman!Yeosang x Drowning!Reader

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mermaid, Halloween Au, fluff

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: Arms crossed over your heart, you’re ready to fling yourself off the edge of a cliff but good thing Yeosang is there to save you. Alternatively: “To hold a love that knows no elements.”

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Strong langauge, mentions of death, suicide and drowning. Yeosang is shirtless (he’s a merman...). He’s quite fascinated with you, slightly obsessive themes and stalkerish themes.

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Here is the mernman Yeosang...oh boy...how exciting! I hope you like it! I watched his v live where he wore the pumpkin hat and oh my god! He looked so cute with his little ponytail. This took me wayyyyyy too long to write and I know many of you were excited and stuff but like I’m not very satisfied with how this turned out? I will revisit this once I’m done with all au-s.

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here

The waves crashed into the rocks under you as you peeked down at the sea with dried tear stains on your cheeks.

"(Y/n)," a voice called out from the back and you closed your eyes, not wanting to hear your brother's voice for a second longer.

"G-go...go away, Seonghwa," you said, your voice tight and scratchy. Hiccups escaped your mouth, each one making the bruises on your chest hurt more.

The ocean wind whipped at your hair, making it stick to your wet cheeks and the snot running down your face.

"(Y/n), you're being stupid again. Step away from there, now," he said and walked closer with his hand stretched out.

"That's all I am for you anyway. Stupid," you spat but your voice got lost in the wind, your sobs overpowering and breaking each syllable.

"Come on, (Y/n)..." Seonghwa huffed in distress and reached out further for you.

"You don't have to do this. Please, just think it through."

His words fell on deaf ears, every thought leaving your head empty and spiralling.

"I've thought about it enough, Seonghwa. It's time for me to take action."

With that, you crossed your arms over your thumping heart and threw yourself off the cliff, every regret leaving your body.

You were finally free.

Silence surrounded your shivering form as you floated through the blue abyss. It felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in your ears. The water felt smooth and silky and left every part of your skin caressed with the hands of the ocean.

The salt stung your eyes as you managed to open them. The world above you looking blue through the lens with the refracted rays of white sunlight hitting your form. Trying to desperately blink away any sort of illusion, you felt a burning feeling rise in your chest.

The fire was so great, spreading through your entire body before you started struggling, pushing yourself up with your hands but no matter how close you thought you were to the surface, you never seemed to reach it.

That's when you realised...you were going to die.

You had wanted it, standing above sea level, ignoring your brother. But now, all you really wanted was...air.

Were you really free?

Your hands thrashed around the water, trying to grab onto anything that might provide you with aid but the quiet hum of the ocean waves above you reminded you that there was nothing.

You were alone, just as you had been your entire life.

The pain in your chest started subsiding to a dull throb and you felt your eyes grow heavy, the liquid weighing down on them. Forcing them to stay open, you thrashed around with the last of your might but to no avail, you started fading.

Eyes fluttering close, you felt your throat close up, the last bit of oxygen leaving your body. With an impending sense of doom, you closed your eyes, hoping that the ocean would spit you out instead of swallowing you whole.

You coughed. Once, twice and a third time until you shot awake, salty water flooding out of your system, each hack paining your lungs and causing your body to shake. Your hair was stuck to your face, every strand, dead and dry as reached up to wring the water out of it.

The ground under your limbs was hard and cold. Icicles shooting up your legs, rendering them numb and disabled.

"You...you're awake," you heard someone call and take a breath of relief. Whipping your head around, you squinted and examined your surrounding trying to figure out if you were already dead or not.

"Purgatory sure is shit," you muttered and took a deep breath of the salty air before stopping and looking around again.

"Is purgatory under the ocean?" You asked, completely bewildered, feeling even more lost when a certain figure attracted the attention of your eyes.

"Who...?" You trailed off and rubbed at your eyes, the reminiscent salt making your eyes sting, scratching it raw.

The figure was looking at you with narrowed eyes. His skin and hair as pale as snow, the upper portion of his body completely...naked. His porcelain skin was almost glinting in contrast to the onyx rocks as he sat with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Who are you?" The question tumbled from your lips before your brain had even registered your situation.

"Kang Yeosang," he said and you heard a bit of splashing in the water below.

Curiously, you let your eyes drift down and almost screamed at the sight of a tail instead of legs. Pushing yourself against the hard rock wall, you swallowed the gasp that was threatening to bubble up your throat and clapped a hand over your mouth. Eyes roaming, you studied his tail. The rich blue scales glistened as the little light reflected off it and his fins curved in, delicately, a translucent blue. The scales looked as if they were sequins made of the finest sapphires and were sewed in by the most skilled hands.

A bit extravagant for a Halloween costume.

"You have a tail," you stuttered out and crawled forward to the edge of the rock platform you had been placed on. The water beneath you was a dark murky blue, the depths of it unfathomable as the creatures lurked underneath.

"You're stating the obvious," the male snorted and pushed himself off the rock, swimming towards you with an offhanded curiosity that glittered in his eyes.

Approaching your figure close to the jagged edge of the rocks, he held his hand out and you found yourself slowly leaning towards him, eyes wide as you got lost in his, the dark brown surrounding you with a sense of normalcy.

His touch was soft, unlike his narrowed eyes and snarky look. Dainty fingers traced your jaw as they tapped along your cheeks and played with your hair strands.

You observed all his sharp but delicate features as they matched the energy of the sea, every wave like his unflickering eyes. Before you knew it, you were leaning closer to the water, closer to where he was before he jerked you back by the shoulder, the tip of your nose almost touching the water.

"For a species that's supposed to be smart, you sure are stupid," Yeosang said and checked you over once before swimming further into the water. Resuming your position against the rock wall again, you brought your knees up to your chest, wiggling your toes to get rid of the freezing numbness was that was taking over.

"You humans have such odd features," Yeosang commented as he swam around a bit before resting his arms and head on the rock platform. His platinum blond hair stuck to his forehead as some of the strands came down into his eyes.

"And what do you know about humans?" You asked and narrowed your eyes a bit, getting oddly defensive at his careless comment.

"Nothing actually. I've always heard about them from my brothers. You're the first one I'm seeing up close."

Gulping, you crossed your legs and leaned against the rocks, the pointed edges digging into your back, making every small move uncomfortable.

"When can I go home?" You asked to no one in particular but Yeosang just snorted and flicked some water at you.

"The one I caught drowning, now wants to go home?"

There was a certain sarcasm in his voice that just didn't sit right with you. He had stabbed you right where the festering wound was and you bit your lip, swallowing every bit of abuse and inhaled the salty ocean air instead.

"Can you at least tell me where I am?"

Yeosang looked around, the moon had now risen on top of you and was visible from a tiny hole in the rocky walls.

"An island a couple kilometres from where you jumped," he said as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

You looked around once more, seeing nothing but saltwater dripping from onyx coloured rocks and more pointed edges.

"How do I get out of here?" You said Yeosang gave a bit of a sad look.

"Why would you want to leave? Just live here! You didn't want to live anyways so you can think of this as your fresh start." Yeosang rushed before his face turned a bright red and he ducked his head into the water.

The words that flew out of his mouth were fast and didn't quite register in your head until you went through every letter he had uttered.

"Huh...?" Were the only words that left your mouth until you heard a huff from Yeosang who had now begun to swim away. It was strange to you that a half fish-man would have any sort of fascination with you even if it was purely just scientific.

But then again, you are the first human he's ever seen up close.

You watched with a confused face as Yeosang's blue tail flipped on the surface before disappearing into the blue abyss again.

Yeosang swam through the reef as he came face to face with his older brother, Hongjoong.

"Where have you been?" He asked, the red scales on his tail resembling a fiery colour.

"Somewhere," Yeosang replied and tried to move past his brother when a hand caught him.

"Wooyoung said he saw you lurking by the surface again, says that you've brought a human into the ocean."

Hongjoong's voice was cold and hostile. In entire merfolk history, never has a human ever been intertwined with their kind and for good reason. Humans were simply just too extreme for their own good. See something pretty, they'll hunt it until it's extinct. See something foreign and they'll alienate it.

"And what if I have?" Yeosang bit back with a snarl in his voice getting defensive about the human he had been observing for a while now.

"What's so special about this human," Hongjoong said and Yeosang found himself thinking back to the first day he saw you.

You had been sitting on one of the rock clusters near the beach, crying. Bleeding from the strange fingers that you had attached to your lower body as you furiously wiped at the blood with seawater, only for it to sting some more.

Absolutely fascinated by your odd state, Yeosang found himself lurking by the surface often, just to catch a glimpse of you.

He heard those other humans call you by your names, (Y/n) and what a pretty name he thought it was. Prettier than any of the pearls he would collect from the sea.

And oh, how his heart almost stopped when he saw you floating alone in the empty ocean. He had seen you enough to understand that you couldn't breathe in water. You didn't have the gills he did at the side of his neck. You needed that foul-smelling air to survive.

"I saved that human," he replied watched as Hongjoong's eyes widened before narrowing distastefully.

"Where are you keeping the human?" He asked in a clipped tone and Yeosang's shoulder dropped before he told his elder brother of the small island he was keeping you on.

"Return this human to the surface, Yeosang. And make sure we never hear of this again."

With that, Hongjoong swam away, his red tail flicking aggressively as he pushed himself through the water disappearing from Yeosang's view.

Yeosang watched as his elder brother swam away with sad eyes. He had only begun to exchange a few words with you and his brother was already telling him to return you to the surface. But he knew the truth. Yeosang knew how much you hated the surface, there was nothing for you there! At least under the sea, you'd have him and maybe even his brothers after they come around.

Sinking to the ocean floor, Yeosang let out a few tears fall out of his eyes and watched as they turned to sea glass, hitting the sandy floor before getting washed away with the slow current.

He's going to have to return you to the surface.

The ground beneath you was soft and warm and you were reminded of the warm sun that would often soak your bones as you played with Seonghwa in the backyard of your childhood home. It was different that time, the chilling cold of loneliness never cracked at your bones and you were satisfied with your, completely wholesome.

"You...you're awake," you heard a voice say as you sat up, clutching the back of your head in pain. You were half expecting the half fish-man to greet you again but instead, you saw Seonghwa's piercing gaze looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"(Y/n), don't you ever do that again," he said as he collected you in his arms and held you close.

You bit back the feeling of sadness that bubbled up in the back of your throat. You never wanted to see Seonghwa again, your elder brother who had made the recent past of your life a living hell but yet, he tried to talk you down and then was also the one to find you.

You had every reason to be grateful to an extent.

"Seonghwa, just..." you trailed off and pushed your brother off you slightly, dusting the sand that clung to every crevice of your body.

A lump of green caught your eye as you moved to lift yourself up from the sand. Clutching the small parcel like thing, you unwrapped what seemed to be seaweed to find small pieces of translucent sea glass that thrummed under the sweltering sun of the beach. Each one had a blue-ish colour and the familiar blue hue of the half fish-man's tail crept into your head. Shaking your head, you wrapped the seaweed again and tucked the small parcel into drenched clothes.

"Let's go home, (Y/n)," Seonghwa said as he pulled you forcefully towards town.

Looking back over your shoulder one last time, you blinked as you saw a mop of platinum blond hair bop in the ocean. Just as you snatched your hand out of Seonghwa's to go closer, the ocean stilled again, leaving you with nothing but the curling waves.

"You're thinking about that human," San, one of Yeosang's brothers stated with a sigh as he settled next to Yeosang on the rock.

"No..." Yeosang trailed off and watched the fragments of sea glass drift away into the ocean current that glittered under the sunlight.

"Yes, you are," San pushed and Yeosang just sighed, ripping one of the seaweeds out of its roots and tearing it apart in frustration.

"I'm just so fascinated by (Y/n). There's something about that human that calls to me, San," he said and pouted at the fish that floated through the coral reef.

"Then go to them," San concluded with a determined tone and Yeosang just looked at his brother with narrowed eyes.

"Hongjoong would never allow that," he said and flicked the end of his tail, losing all hope and sulking.

San sighed in frustration and grabbed Yeosang by the arm, dragging him through the ocean by his arm, inching closer to the surface.

Breaking through the water surface, San and Yeosang settled near a cluster of rocks, the wind whistling and mixing with the ocean sunlight.

Human littered the shore, some walking their dogs and others just sitting on the sand. Yeosang's eyes searched for yours but in a crowd filled with strange limbs, he never saw yours.

"(Y/n)'s not here" he sighed and dived back into the ocean, San following.

As Seonghwa dragged you through town, you found yourself cowering under the gaze of all the individuals you thought you had left behind. The stares and the whispers, isolating you from the world just as they had before.

Seonghwa didn't stop until he had reached your room and pushed you inside of it.

"You're going to stay here until I deem it safe for you to go out again. What do you think mother and father would've thought if they saw you now, huh?" He demanded and you hung your head in shame.

The sound of Seonghwa exiting the room and locking the door echoed through the drab grey walls as you sat on the single bed with white bedsheets wallowing away in your self-pity and loneliness as you had in the past.

Days passed and you found yourself teetering on the edge of insanity, with nothing but the grey walls staring back at you.

Trying your luck for the fourth time today, you banged your hand against the door as the sound of footsteps shuffled closer.

"Seonghwa...please...just please let me out. I'm going to crazy in here," you cried and banged on the door one last time before your brother's face appeared in front of you.

"(Y/n)," he sighed and pushed a plate of food into your hands before closing the door again.

Only this time, you jammed your foot in between, preventing your elder brother from closing the door.

"What-" he started but wasn't able to finish as you thrust the plate of food into his hand, shoving him aside and running towards the front door and throwing yourself to the wind.

Seonghwa watched with frustration in his eyes as you ran, barefoot through the town.

This time, he'd have to let you go, his little sister.

Yeosang yelped with peaking curiosity and a racing heart as he saw a human sitting on the same cluster of rocks he had first seen you on. Said human was bleeding from their toes, scrubbing at them with saltwater furiously.

The merman found himself thinking about you again as he inched closer, hoping it was you.

Ripples formed in the water under you, causing you to look up and squint into the distance. A familiar blue tail diving into the distance caught your attention as you hurried to your feet, diving into the ocean again, trying your best to follow the tail.

The gashes on your feet stung with the salt being rubbed in the wounds but you wanted to catch the blue tail. Your lungs burned, the lack of oxygen reaching your head, making you dizzy.

Before you knew it, a hand reached to grab your ankle, pulling you close and into their chest. You opened your eyes, eyeball stinging as you saw Yeosang in front of you, his platinum blond hair sticking up in the water.

You opened your mouth in shock, a rush of bubbles leaving your mouth as Yeosang drew you close and pressed his lips to yours.

There was a sense of urgency in the kiss, desperation that you had never felt as he moulded his lips against yours, air entering your system, flooding it to life.

You pushed yourself away from him, feet kicking as you tried to reach the surface, clawing at our throat to rid the closing feeling.

Yeosang rubbed at your arms in an indication to calm down.

"(Y/n), just calm down and take deep breaths," he said and but you shook your head and continued to struggle, pulling away from him with thrashing arms.

He was trying to kill you.

"Just please, let me go. I'll find a way to go back to the island you had held me on, I don't want to die like this," you said and breathed in only for Yeosang to chuckle and stroke your cheek.

He found you so impossibly endearing that his brother's words felt like some sort of blur in his mind.

"You can breathe fine," he said and let you go, only for you to freeze up and take another breath just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your throat opened up and found yourself taking deeper inhales just to put Yeosang's theory to test.

"Holy shit," you whispered as you stared at the blue-tailed boy in front of you.

"How did you...what did you?" Your lack of words made Yeosang smile as he swam towards you slowly, pulling you by the arm and leading you deeper into the water,

The water shimmered under the sunlight that reached the surface as the bottom morphed into an inky blue. Fish of different colours swam by you as they tickled your skin, giggles escaping you at the sensation.

Yeosang stayed quiet as he watched you marvel at everything his world could offer.

If only he was a human or you were a mermaid, maybe he would have an actual chance at winning your heart. This thought made Yeosang frown as his heart dropped to his stomach. His sensitive scales bristled against the water due to his sudden mood change and you felt the water around you get colder.

"Are you okay, fish-man?" You asked and drew your eyebrows in with concern.

Yeosang shook his head and scoffed lightly, trying his best to change his mood and divert your attention to another topic.

"My name isn't fish-man. It's Yeosang, I've already mentioned it to you before."

There was a tone of annoyance in his voice and you couldn't help but give him a playful smile which he happily returned.

Swimming further, Yeosang led you back to the small island where you had first woken up.

Hosting yourself up onto the rocks, you looked around at the drab atmosphere and inhaled, feeling good to have some oxygen in you.

"Isn't there any vegetation here?" You asked and Yeosang just tilted his head in confusion.

"This is the only part that's connected to the water. You can try and find a way out but I won't be able to help you," he said and brought the tip of his fins out of the tail, flicking some water at you.

"Oh, alright," you said, slightly disheartened at the reminder that Yeosang wasn't human like you.

Yeosang must have seen the drop of your expression as he quickly swam up to you and hoisted himself up so that he was at the same level as you.

"You'll never be alone, though," he said and pushed some of your wet hair out of your face.

"You're still a stranger to me," you whispered back and he smiled.

"You're not one to me and I'll try my best to not be one to you either. Although now that I've saved your life twice, I would say we're past the stranger phase."

You gave a dry laugh and squeezed some of the water out of your clothes causing the seaweed wrapped sea glass fragments to fall out.

You reached up to tuck it back into your clothes when Yeosang's hand grabbed it first.

"You...you found this?" He asked and you nodded, slightly scared he was going to accuse you fo stealing something precious.

"What is it?" You asked, voice pitchy as you tried to hide your growing panic.

"My tears," he said and you found all panic fade as sadness replaced it instead.

Silence lingered in the air as you stared at the translucent blue glass pieces.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he just shook his head.

"It's alright, I left them with you for a reason. I just didn't think you would find them, let alone keep them," he finished and pushed himself back into the water.

"They're very tragically beautiful," you said and laid them out in front of you. They had faded in colour a little but they still no doubt resembled Yeosang's blue tail.

"My brothers just don't understand my fondness for you," he sighed and pushed himself below the water before raising his eyes to meet you again.

You pushed your legs forward, just enough to dip your toes into the water.

Yeosang swam around in circles before stopping in front of you.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he said and cocked his head like a little puppy asking for a treat.

You hummed in response, completely ignoring the fact that he knew your name even though you never told him.

"Who's that human that always makes you sad? He was there when I saw you jump from the cliff."

The question made you stiffen and stare at your toes as they dipped in and out of the water.

"His name's Seonghwa...he's my elder brother," you said and Yeosang just nodded, oddly watching your legs.

"I don't like him," he concluded like a small child and you laughed, tilting your head back and Yeosang swore it was the prettiest sound that had ever graced his ears.

"I don't either," you said and rested your chin on your folded elbows that were rested on top of your knees.

"I can sacrifice him to the sirens, if you want," Yeosang suggested and you laughed again.

"That's so romantic," you said and smiled at the way Yeosang's face lit up.

"Anything for you," he said and your heart soared at the declaration. This half fish-man wore his heart on his sleeve and it seemed as if it was for you.

"Thank you, that'd be nice."

Silence once again engulfed the atmosphere as you watched Yeosang play with the water. It was comforting to hear the water drip from the jagged edges of the rock.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he asked once again and you raised your head.

"Yeah?"

"What are those strange things attached to your lower body?" He asked with a certain childlike innocence that made you want to coo and stroke his hair.

"You mean..." you sniggered and pulled your legs closer.

"My legs?" Your lips curled up into a smile as you broke out into the heartiest laughter that ever racked your body.

"Oh, they're called legs. What about those small fingers?" He said and touched one of your toes, swimming back slightly when you wiggled them in his face.

"They're called toes," you said and watched in inhumane curiosity as Yeosang inspected them, only to bring his face close and sniff them.

"What are you- no! You're not supposed to put them in your mouth! Yeosang, stop!"

The waves crashed onto the shore as you peeked down at the sea with a smile on your face.

The sun was bright above your head as the cool wind blew through your hair, making you close your eyes and reminisce in the feeling.

"(Y/n)," you heard a voice call and you giggled at the smooth tone of the voice that was calling your name.

"Are you ready?" Yeosang called and you smiled, crossing your arms over your chest and jumping into the water below, squealing due to the pure delight.

Landing in the water with a gush of bubbles, Yeosang wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close for a kiss as he gifted you with the ability to breathe underwater.

"Let's go," he said and you nodded, letting yourself be pulled by Yeosang as you watched his blue scales twinkle in the ocean and his tail flicker seamlessly along with the current.

You were finally free.

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

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what’s the line between a good adaptation and a bad adaptation? I’ve been running circles in my head thinking about where cql stands these past few days. Because i was also thinking about other adaptations like the pjo films and howl’s moving castle, like one of these is hated and the other is very much loved but both of them change so much from the original source material that it cannot be considered the same, movie howl and book howl are completely different characters and the plot for pjo was messed w so much in the films. So I was thinking about how much an adaptation can change before it’s considered a bad adaptation? or if changes really even matter if the adaptation achieves what it set out to achieve regardless of how different it is to source material? For the record I think cql is a bad adaptation but I’m unsure how to word it because the line seems kinda blurry

Hi anon,

As much fun as it would be to be the final arbiter on what constitutes a good or bad adaptation, it is a question to which there are unfortunately no definitive answers. But I am of course happy to share my opinion and thoughts on the topic!

I think a good adaptation needs first to meet a crucial condition, which is that it must be, on its own, a good work of fiction. That means on the one hand that it should not rely on the source material to be thematically or narratively cohesive--if prior knowledge of the source material is necessary to understand fully the adaption, I personally consider it a failure. On the other hand, this also simply means that the work of fiction must be competently-made, coherent, enjoyable, etc. on its own merits. However, some adaptations that are well-made and generally self-contained works of fiction remain bad adaptations. There is obviously more to the process than just producing a strong work of fiction based on elements of another work.

It’s good to keep in mind that changes are not inherently a bad thing since the process of adaptation requires change. Generally an adaptation aims to tell a story through a different medium, which requires changes even when the creative(s) in charge of the adaptation want(s) to remain as faithful as possible to the original. Telling a story through a visual medium vs the written form demands a different approach! And technical limitations might end up having a huge sway in the process: do you have the budget or the technology to execute everything described in a fantasy novel, for instance? how much time or locations do you need to tell the same story? As well, since adaptations are generally spear-headed by different creatives, changes to the source material are part of the creative process, by adding another perspective and by being forced, in a sense, to choose a specific interpretation of the source material. And that’s not even covering how adapting something from a different era or from a different cultural moment will require a form of “translation” to make it both intelligible and relevant to contemporary audiences.

In addition to these sort of “unavoidable” changes, there are many other factors that may enter into question. With CQL and MDZS, we have a salient example of how censorship might influence the process of adapting a property. The people who have a veto, in some shape or form, over the project may also pursue their own agendas. Matters of marketability and of targeting a specific market will also influence the direction an adaptation takes, especially when an adaption is done in a medium that requires large initial financial investments.

Personally, I believe that the way to make a good adaptation is to go either of these three ways: 1) take a source material that contains obvious weaknesses and improve upon them; 2) figure out exactly what is the appeal of the source material and what makes it original, and make sure that these elements are kept in the adaptation; or 3) reinvent the source material. In the first scenario, it is a case of stronger story-teller being handed a property that has a lot of flaws, and either doing away with them or filling up the gaps in the original narrative--thereby allowing the good in it to finally shine. A good example of that, imo, is The Old Guard movie, a tight narrative that excised a lot of the less savoury elements of the graphic novels and included a lot more emotional depth and pay offs.

In the second scenario, the most important factor is that the creative (or creatives) in charge of the adaptation really understand not only the source material but also why it became loved enough to be picked up for an adaptation--why it appeals to people, what makes it unique, what stands out. What I mean is that creative liberty and changes to the source material are totally fine so long as they do not lose the identity or appeal of the source material and do not present an interpretation that is not actually rooted in the original text. For instance, I personally hate the Anne with an E adaptation of Anne of Green Gables because to me it fundamentally misunderstands the point of the novels and why they became a phenomenon. Making a story that was written to be an uplifting fantasy about an abused orphan who still managed to find beauty in the world and to find love and acceptance in it into a grim “realistic” drama to try to “appeal to modern audiences” is fundamentally stupid and, honestly, offensive. As well, while I enjoy Pride and Prejudice 2005 as a film, I think it is an horrid adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, mainly due to the fact the director Joe Right clearly did not understand the novel. As a result the film is a representation of what he projects unto the narrative (something that is very clear when he talked about the novel in interviews or in the bts), and not what is actually in the text.

In the third scenario, what would be a loose adaptation is a situation where perhaps very little of the source material may remain. It might only be the premise, or some plot points, or some character relationships that are ultimately kept. These also include for me the “what if X narrative but Y set-up”, which can be awful (the Pride and Prejudice and Zombies movie is so shockingly bad when it could have been a fun, campy romp) but also a way to explore a source material in new ways or underlining certain themes that might have been not given as much light in the source material. In this case, I guess that what really makes it a good “adaptation” is whether it has something new or interesting to add to the source material through this loose adaptation, or whether it is just a gimmick.

To me, CQL fails as an adaptation both on its own merits (due to plot holes, on-the-nose and clumsy storytelling, inconsistent characterisation, technical failings, etc.) but also as it does not retain, for a number of reasons, what makes MDZS appealing imo (WWX’s characterisation, Wangxian’s journey, its heavy reliance on mystery, intrigue and themes, its willingness to show characters do cruel and violent things, etc.), all the while making the cardinal sin of being a weaker story than the source material (when the source material already provided them with all the material they would have needed to tell a story of at least equal complexity and competency).

#anon ask #long post

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whetstonefires · 3 years

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Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Naruto

Hm! Only Positivity huh? I still don’t know why this is defined as Reverse Unpopular; some of my least popular opinions are already Thing Good.

Okay I actually really liked how Naruto (the manga, which I followed week to week for most of high school lol, hurrah for scanlators and rip mangafox) carried off the Big Twist about Itachi. The followthrough could have been better, as is the case with basically every element of the story, but the basic sell of Itachi’s real motives just landed really successfully, in my eyes.

There are a few reasons for that--mostly that it was the endpoint of quite a lot of direct buildup, of weird choices by Itachi that seemed just like his weird personality at a glance but which added together made foreshadowing, plus actual foreshadowing, followed by his absolutely bananas behavior during the climactic fraternal battle and the panel comp for his last words. Which really got me in the heart before I even had context.

But also that it snapped into place with a lot of the story’s strongest existing themes and tied them together in what looked at the time like the potential for a strong wicker sort of framework.

About the harm their society did its people and especially its children by molding them for war, and how seductively meaningful that shape could feel, going back to Haku. About cut-throat intra-clan bullshit going back to Neji.

About the weird emphasis placed on the concept of genius and its enforced advancement, going back to either the early Chuunin exam arc with Lee or earlier with Sasuke’s basic characterization. And about the fuckery that isolation wreaks on the psyche and how easy it is for authority figures to take advantage of vulnerable children, going back to literally the first chapter.

A lot of the time these twist-reveals that some baddie was Actually A Victim All Along are really unsatisfying, because they tend to diminish the horror of their crimes and even argue they were Justified.

With Itachi, the true story of the Uchiha Massacre was worse. Konoha’s government or a subset thereof (it was never clarified who was complicit) actively coercing a thirteen-year-old child into helping to kill his entire family and taking all the blame so they (that is Danzou) could avoid the potential repercussions of a civil war in the worst way possible while eliminating the Uchiha as internal political rivals is so much more deeply horrifying than a genius just snapping. Systemic rot is so, so much worse than individual violence.

(That’s why we as a society are encouraged to view crime as an individual thing, after all, and the prototypical criminal mind as the serial killer driven by nothing but deranged psychosexual needs.)

The fact that everything Itachi put Sasuke through was out of love and a desperate need to keep him alive, because Sasuke was who he loved most and the only thing he loved that he was allowed to save, that is so much more awful than it being out of hate. That that very love was cynically used to corral this child into leaving the corner he’d been backed into at an angle useful to others.

It’s obscene, but it pulls so many elements of the setting and characterization together.

And even though Itachi’s scheme technically went off exactly as planned, the narrative does not embrace it as in any way a good plan that reflected good judgment or even sanity. Which was nice.

The new version of What Really Happened is worse and it adds dimension to the past events being retconned rather than flattening them, which is cool and honestly difficult to pull off.

Also I love the premise of Itachi being, by nature, a very gentle person. Because that hasn’t stopped him from being a mass murdering serial killer, when the correct pressures were applied. He hates violence. He hates people being hurt.

No one ever cared what he wanted. And his family pressured him into a particularly violent and traumatic version of their murder career extra young for the prestige. And that was why, when more pressure came from different angles, he was already someone who could shut down his personal volition and kill whoever he was supposed to kill, no matter how much it hurt him.

They made him into a knife and he was turned against them. I go wild for that. It wasn’t right or fair and so many people died who weren’t directly at fault, but it is a closed circle. Which I find narratively satisfying.

Itachi also played interestingly against Gaara, the series’ previous benchmark for its recurring theme of Utterly Broken Boy, because he was walked a steady path down from Being At All Okay by the demands of the adults in his life, then took a really big hit, then just kept getting worse and worse without ever really snapping completely, but also without anybody ever even coming close to saving him.

While Gaara was betrayed by his family much harder and faster and in many ways more comprehensively, went completely insane when the big hit came, and then with Naruto’s help pulled himself together and ascended to a position of power, and began making things better and having positive sibling relationships.

Another thing that always struck me about the Real Itachi Backstory is that, because the breaking of him was conducted so much within the system--without kidnapping or sand demons talking in his head or social collapse or abandonment or even overt abuse or torture, unsanctioned wetworks divisions and insane cousins impersonating insane great-grandfathers notwithstanding--he makes it much easier to see the parallels between the way the ninja world eats its brightest stars alive very young, and the abusive expectations the real, contemporary school system tends to lay on high performers.

Fugaku’s abuse of Itachi is in some ways understated for fiction but also utterly deranged, in terms of the kind of gore and horror he pushed his genius child into confronting at such a young age. But it’s still sufficiently normalized within his society that it looks enough like a normal dad demanding outstanding academic achievement at all times to be really...the opposite of trippy. Strangely grounded for a relationship whose core element is ‘refused to let son choose not to be a child soldier.’

I’m torn about the level of intentionality there.

Of course, salt incoming lol I can’t hold it back, praising this kind of thing in Naruto just brings attention to how the resolution of the story was unsatisfying, because it ultimately disengaged from all its major themes other than self-sacrifice and friendship being A Big Deal in order to bring a big finish and a firm conclusion.

Which...man looks like an even stupider decision in hindsight considering it now has a sequel. Hah.

#ask meme #naruto #uchiha itachi #kishimoto pulled this kind of twist a lot of times #a lot a lot #and i think itachi was the most successful #although the followthrough and payoff after that point was #utter pants #because the narrative lacked the courage of its convictions #as is common in this genre lmao #reverse unpopular opinion #a nonny mouse #ask #hoc est meum

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eugene-not-flynn · 4 years

Text

rooftop

word count: 1993

Summary: The night before he marries Rapunzel, Eugene sits on the palace roof and finds himself with unexpected company. Eugene-centric.

Warnings: brief mention/gesture to Rapunzel’s abuse, some discussion of Eugene’s upbringing as an orphan, self-doubt and tangential themes, Eugene is not as confident as he seems in himself but he gets some reassurance, dialogue-heavy, introspective for Eugene and his relationship to Rapunzel, overall v soft, Eugene almost cries but doesn’t.

A/N: Basically, I decided there were elements of Eugene and his relationship to this character that the canon content doesn’t really address much, and I really wanted to explore potential for their dynamic.

...

Eugene liked the palace roof, especially at night.

He couldn’t explain why, exactly. He supposes the habit had started when he and Rapunzel had first arrived at the palace. Eugene hadn’t slept particularly well those first several weeks; nightmares that didn’t involve a knife in his gut usually were filled with Rapunzel’s muffled scream. Add that to the fact that Eugene’s body hadn’t yet caught on to the whole ‘it’s okay to sleep near royal guards’ idea, and Eugene didn’t get much sleep at first. The roof had been one of the few places in the palace that he’d known how to get to already, thanks to his escapade with the Stabbington Brothers. It’d also had the added appeal of the promise of fresh air and quiet.

Even when the nightmares eventually eased and his fight-or-flight stopped kicking in every time so much as saw a guard, Eugene found himself drawn to the roof. He liked the near bird’s-eye view of the kingdom, and even in the dark of night, the stars just seemed brighter to him up here. The late summer air breezes through loose strands of his brown hair and Eugene takes a deep breath as tension eases from his shoulders.

“Wedding jitters?”

Eugene jumps at the unexpected voice, glancing over his shoulder. It’s well past midnight. He hadn’t expected anyone to be up here. And even if he had, the last person he expected to interrupt his evening was the queen.

“Your Majesty,” Eugene says quickly, moving to push himself to his feet before Queen Arianna stops him by lifting her hand. She’s in the purple gown she’d been wearing earlier in the day, but her hair is loose from its usual half-pulled-back regal style. It is almost startling to see her so… normal.

“Please,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She nods to the space beside him. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

Eugene sits up a bit more as the queen settles herself beside him. For a long moment, neither of them says anything. Eugene listens to the quiet hoot of an owl and the very distant chirp of crickets. The thumb of his left hand skims his ring finger almost absent-mindedly.

“Did you ever learn to find constellations?” the queen asks after a moment.

Eugene glances at her, then follows her gaze to the sky above them. “A few,” he answers, realizing very suddenly that he can’t remember the last time he had a one-on-one conversation with her Majesty the Queen. It makes him suddenly nervous. “Some of the older kids at the orphanage used to use them to tell stories.”

The queen hums. When Eugene glances over quickly, she’s smiling faintly. “When my sister and I were children, we’d make up stories for the stars. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned some of the actual mythology.”

Eugene glances down at his hands. “The first time I’d read anything formal on the stars was—” he falters, “was when Rapunzel and I were first in Corona.”

“It is strange to think that Rapunzel was within our city walls for an entire day before we’d even realized.”

A part of Eugene wonders quietly if perhaps Rapunzel might’ve been sooner reunited with her parents if they hadn’t been ducking and dodging guards left and right that day. Even though none of them—not even Rapunzel—knew at the time that she was the Lost Princess, Eugene remembers how the Queen had taken one look at her daughter and seemed to just… know.

“We didn’t know,” Eugene says, “who Rapunzel was.”

“I know,” she replies easily. “In a strange way, I think it was best that Rapunzel experienced our kingdom as a member of it, as part of the city’s community, before she knew she was to rule it.”

Eugene’s mouth quirks fondly at the memory. He remembers the way her tongue poked out between her lips when she’d painted the crest of Corona in the street. He remembers her gasp of wonder when he’d showed her Corona’s library. And then, of course, how she’d managed to get an entire city square full of people to join her in a dance. Even Eugene himself, who hadn’t danced in many years.

“She really fell in love with the people of Corona that day,” Eugene tells her softly.

Eugene senses more than sees the way the queen glances at him. “From what she’s told me, it wasn’t just the people of Corona she fell in love with that day.”

Eugene feels his cheeks warm, and he’s suddenly grateful for the cover of night. His thumb skims his left ring finger again, his heart giving a small squeeze at the words.

He clears his throat. “She, ah—she wasn’t the only one.”

The queen hums again, but when Eugene looks over at her, her smile is soft and her gaze is trained out over her kingdom. “Are you nervous for tomorrow, Eugene?”

He pauses before he answers. He looks back out over the kingdom. If the queen had asked him at any other point during the day, he’s pretty sure he would have answered immediately. Of course not! But the night makes him want to be more fully honest. Eugene wonders if the tiredness lowers his defenses. Or if the dark offers an illusion of safety. Or if the quiet of the world in nightfall forces a gravity to the words spoken in it. Eugene doesn’t know.

But he’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t a part of him that was nervous. Though now, it was more about remembering his vows and the toast the groom was expected to deliver. The details. The only detail Eugene wasn’t nervous about was the rings, as he’d put Max and Pascal in charge of those. But the idea of getting married? To Rapunzel? That… made a warm, fluttery feeling expand in Eugene’s chest that he knew to be excitement, not nerves.

“Not for the reasons I’d thought I’d be,” he answers eventually. “If you’d asked me five years ago if I’d be nervous the night before my wedding, I would probably laugh at you first.”

“Marriage wasn’t something you wanted?”

“Well, it…” He sighs. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. It was more… “I wouldn’t have considered it as something meant for me.”

Marriage meant several things needed to be true. He’d have to want to settle down. He’d have to fall in love. And he’d have to have that person fall in love with him in return. Five years ago, none of those things had seemed attainable for him. He hadn’t even dared to dream that perhaps they could be some day. Instead, he’d convinced himself that security could be found in the accumulation of wealth. After all, it seemed to have worked for Flynnigan Rider.

But then he’d met Rapunzel. And everything he’d convinced himself of had been turned upside down.

“Something must have changed your mind.”

“Rapunzel,” Eugene answers without hesitation. “Rapunzel changed everything.”

Queen Arianna chuckles softly. “Yes, I seem to remember you had been a wanted thief prior to your return with my daughter.”

Eugene ducks his head sheepishly, turning his gaze to distant, silhouette figures of citizens moving through the streets of Corona below them. He can feel the careful gaze of the queen on him and it makes him feel, not for the first time, uncharacteristically self-conscious. He knew how the king felt about him, but Eugene had always had a harder time reading the queen.

“Well, what can I say?” Eugene rubs the back of his neck. “Rapunzel brought out the best in me. She continues to do so, every day.”

There’s a brief, thoughtful pause. “You know, I’ve never truly known my daughter without you there too. But I can see how you bring out the best in her, too.”

That brings Eugene up short. It certainly hadn’t been what he expected. “That’s… kind of you, Your Highness,” he decides. It’s a nice thought, Eugene thinks, and one that he desperately wants to believe. But Eugene can’t help the haze of self-doubt that lingers in the back of his mind, formed from years of experience and countless voices insisting he wasn’t enough for his parents, wasn’t enough to be adopted, wasn’t enough—

“You may not always believe it,” the queen interrupts as if she can read his mind. Eugene startles, then stares at her as she continues. “But it’s true. Rapunzel doesn’t talk much about her childhood, and when she does, we both know she tends to gloss over a lot of the… unpleasant details. But from the little that she has shared, it’s become clear that for a long time, Rapunzel didn’t have someone who truly believed in her. Who looked out for her in a way that encouraged her strength and independence, rather than hiding her away.”

“I—”

“You believed in her when others doubted,” she presses on, “You believed in her when doubt in herself was all she’d been taught. You looked at my daughter and… saw there was more in her.”

Eugene looks at the queen, wide-eyed. He opens his mouth to reply (because of course, of course he believed in Rapunzel, he always had and always would) but words get lost somewhere on the way up his throat, which is growing unexpectedly tight.

The queen meets his eyes, her green eyes sparkling in the dark. “You two bring out the best in each other, Eugene.”

Eugene is certain now that his face must be bright red. He wonders if she can tell in the dark. “I, um… I…” he pauses, then swallows thickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The corner of the queen’s lips curl up in a soft smile. “I only speak the truth. Frederic and I fought against all odds to keep hope alive that our daughter would one day come back. It was shock enough when she did. I never, in a million years, would have expected that on the same day I get my daughter back, I’d also be gaining a son.”

Eugene freezes, his heart giving an unexpectedly warm squeeze.

“I know you are in your twenties,” she adds, oblivious to the way Eugene’s eyes are beginning to sting the faintest bit, “and I know you spent your childhood believing yourself to be an orphan. I know you’ve recently been reunited with your birth father. I know all of that, and I apologize if I am crossing any lines, but… should you find yourself wanting a mom, Eugene… just know that I already consider you my son.”

The edges of Eugene’s vision begin to blur and he blinks quickly to clear it. He had spent his entire life either wishing for a mom or berating himself as weak for wanting one in the first place. He is 26 but he feels very suddenly like he is a small child again, wondering—for the millionth time—what it might feel like to be hugged by his mom.

He should say something, he realizes, but his throat is still too tight for all the things he thinks he should say.

When he does eventually speak, his voice sounds a bit thick even to his own ears. “Well, I… That is, when Rapunzel and I were looking at Corona wedding customs, we saw that the bride and her father usually share in a dance, followed by, um, the groom and his mother. We, ah… we were going to forgo that last part, but… and I know it’s short notice, but… that is, Your Highness—”

“Eugene,” she interrupts, but gently, “I would love to share in the mother-son dance with you.”

Eugene releases a breath and smiles. “Great.” He swallows again, then pushes himself to his feet. “Well, big day tomorrow. I should probably get some rest.”

She nods. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

Eugene’s smile grows a bit more. “Goodnight, mom.”

#tangled #tts #tangled fanfiction #new dream #eugene fitzherbert #eugene fitzherbert fanfiction #queen arianna #abuse mention

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redstaratmorning · 3 years

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Amnesia: The Dark Descent - Astarion

Ahoy there me hearties! It is time to embark on yet another long voyage into the seas of discovery and character exploration, to fill in the details of the blank map with speculation and musings alongside the occasional sea serpent drawing! Tonight we are once more focused on Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3, and we set sail with navigation logs that include Scents And Sensibilities, or more specifically how both taste and smell might impact Astarion as a vampire and his perception of the world. The second major topic of speculation would be the one that gave this post its title: amnesia possibilities with speculations on the influence of torture and starvation for induced memory loss. This is of course all speculation based on early access content, so beware of spoilers upon the horizon! Content warnings include discussion of food items, consumption of food, consumption of rotting food, graphic descriptions, maggots, insects, emetophobia, vampirism, blood, dark backstories, abuse, torture, horror, and other themes typical of the Baldur’s Gate 3 setting. Spoilers for both Baldur’s Gate 3 and some spoilers for Amnesia: The Dark Descent and Amnesia: Justine included. Google story details of the Amnesia series at your own risk, these tags are intended to be reflective solely of mentioned elements in this essay, not of all potentially disturbing content in those games.

So with the starting fact of how closely the senses of taste and smell are in real life, what does this mean for Astarion and other vampires in DND when it comes to how things smell versus how they taste? Referencing another of Pjenn’s fine posts regarding everyone’s favorite local vampire spawn, Astarion has a line regarding consuming a treacle tart from Auntie Ethel’s cottage: “Hell’s teeth! Was solid food always so foul?” [click here for a link to said post] Now this could just be because Auntie Ethel is a hag and cooks horrible food, and according to tumblr there are poisonous apples to be found at her place as well. [Alas no post citation to confirm the poisonous apples.] If Astarion’s reaction isn’t due to Ethel being a terrible cook, and is more to do with the fact that he’s a vampire, then that’s a horse of a different color. Presumably, through speculation based on his surprise and lack of disgust prior to consumption of foodstuffs, standard humanoid foods likely still smell or at least smell similar to how they used to smell to him when he was alive. An apple still smells like an apple, as it were. It may just be that instead of Astarion feeling hunger at the smell of an apple, it might be more akin to smelling pleasant like apple-scented perfume or such though for him...curiously, that would suggest that he did not try or more likely could not try to eat anything of the sort under Cazador’s rule. On that note, it would be a certain flavor of tragedy for regular humanoid foods to still smell appetizing and edible to Astarion but taste like ash in his mouth, or worse. But how does food fit for vampires smell to Astarion? Namely, blood, of course. Though one might wonder at rare steak or other cuts of meat still bloody to the taste—could he eat beef tartare and enjoy it, for example? Sashimi or other raw seafood? That’s straying into headcanon territory though. Back on topic, in the one camp scene where everyone is feeling ill with the beginning sensations of ceremorphosis, he mentions “I can smell the blood in your mouth” on one dialogue branch. It could be that the two are standing awfully close together while discussing matters, and/or the MC’s bleeding a pretty significant amount and the scent is quite noticeable, or Astarion’s got a pretty keen sense of smell, or a combination of the above. It probably smells pretty good if it tastes as good as Astarion’s reactions and comments would strongly suggest, and if we’re going to go wild with fun fantastical interpretations, I’d put forth the idea of Astarion being able to smell the difference between different people’s (or animals’) blood at close range. If Larian puts the following datamined not-present-in-game-yet scene in, the former idea would tie in very nicely with how Astarion speculates on how the different companions’ blood might taste, from this datamined text post once again kindly provided by Pjenn. [click here for text post link, bottommost “tastingparty” section] Transcription of some of the possible lines in question (not in the game at time of writing, and possibly may not appear in the final game): “Take Gale, for example. He strikes me as someone whose blood is rich, refined like a well-aged brandy.” “Take Wyll, for example. A man of the people, very palatable, like a sweet cider.” Above lines chosen for their more descriptive wording, thus why the other party members (both current and future as of this time of writing) are not added in the above examples. Astarion is quite colorful in his descriptions of how he thinks some of the companions’ blood would taste, based off of their personalities. So what does everyone’s various MCs’ blood taste like? There could be delightful variety based on the details of the various MCs’ personalities and personal life histories, I’ve seen some explorations on the dash here and there which is delightful, and I’d shan’t say no to seeing more. It is a beautiful opportunity for character exploration regarding the MC, Astarion’s perception of them, the reality of who they are (and perhaps Astarion shifting said perception of them), and all around a great potential moment to have some fun writing descriptive prose if one is so inclined. One internet search later, I will say that it appears that reddit and other google search sources do seem to suggest that in real life the blood from various different species of animals looks and tastes different from one another, even without going into factors such as age and health’s impact on blood. If we as normal humans are able to tell the difference in that, it seems reasonable to think Astarion would be able to do that and more with supernatural augmentation as the basis for that line of thinking. What do people smell like to him? Different from one another one might suppose. Is that part of what informs his imaginings and wonderings about how their companions’ blood might taste? Individuals tend to smell unique to some degree, due to body chemistry among other factors. One would expect blood to be a factor in that, seeing as that’s how many hormones and such get sent about the circulatory system—which might mean Astarion (and our potential future weregnome companion) may have more of a time having to deal with the whole party foregoing soap for better or for worse, unless Gale or Shadowheart have a Summon/Conjure Soap spell, or perhaps the MC is a ranger who can find a soap plant. Not a great time to have a sensitive nose potentially, though foregoing soap and thus additional layered scents like floral infusions and such might be beneficial. One can only imagine hunting might turn out better for the entire party’s dinner-scrounging efforts by not alerting the local wildlife that there’s someone about who smells like a potpourri bowl...though that’s another idea, does Astarion volunteer to go hunting moreso for the party in order to be able to drain blood from the kills? One would bleed and gut a carcass anyway as part of the processing, so who would know if he drank it dry versus bled it out with a knife from a tree? Moving on though, imagine what it must’ve been like the first time after he rose up from being turned and he smelled another living person’s blood, only to feel his mouth suddenly start watering. Was he confused? Repulsed? Horrified? Startled, but accepting? There’s potential ripe for the picking to interpret that in any number of ways, including conflicted and complicated in multiple directions all at once, which his actions and emotional depictions might suggest so far in early access. Imagine the torment of being ravenous every night—and I am personally impressed that Astarion actually can keep his mental faculties and presentation together well enough to seduce someone given potential speculation of his physical state,—and knowing only a meager portion of the most putrid, rotting rat flesh awaited him back at Cazador’s mansion, while he had to interact and seduce with people who smelled just so good to his vampiric senses. Consider the added twist of the knife in Cazador’s torment of Astarion with the fact that one can consider saliva to be filtered blood—if one headcanons Astarion as actually being quite physical with his seduction up to and including kissing of any kind. Consider also, the fact that if Astarion has shared a kiss with one of the unfortunate victims-to-be, he might have more of an idea of what they might taste like but must also now sit and SMELL their fresh-spilled blood right from the vein, right there in front of him, and watch while Cazador enjoys his own supper, while being forced to down a disgusting rotting carcass under threat of punishment. [in-post content warning: Graphic description of rotting dead rat carcass, food, maggots, etc in the next paragraph] Did Astarion throw up the first several times? Cazador would’ve surely punished him for so “rudely” rejecting a dinner all set out especially for Astarion and everything. To get to the point where one can consume let alone look at and smell a plate of rotting food,—specifically a dead rat with the fur still attached, the guts bloating up and putrifying from within, that very well might have live, wriggling maggots in it,—and not vomit? It must be one hell of a potent cocktail mix between primal hunger-driven desperation and fear of punishment applied over a prolonged period of time for Astarion to actually be able to consume that, let alone look upon it. This essay by the by will not be doing any in-depth exploration of the overarching situation relating to the victims’ point of view, as I feel that’s been implied in previous meta posts by both myself and others on Astarion, in the “Clearly The Other Victims Have It Bad Too And No One Deserves To Suffer Cazador” thread of implications. We are however acknowledging that all of this experience for everyone else, aside from Cazador, is Fucked Up And Very Very Bad. Continuing past acknowledgements of the large moral cluster of ideas over yonder, let us move forward into the “present” time when Astarion has joined the party, and no one is as of yet aware that he is a vampire. Consider the scenario where he can smell their individual scents, but it’s nothing he hasn’t handled before, even if he seems to be...curiously free of the immediate need to get back to Cazador right away, while still wrapping his head around this bizarre new reality of walking in the sun. The inescapable reality of how different everything looks bathed in the all encompassing colors of sunlight, compared to moonlight and lantern light. Be it the blinding yellow, white, and blue of the noon time sun, or the violent golds, oranges, reds clashing against the violently deep blue shadows of night’s approach during the fall of twilight, or the brilliant and mellow pale grandeur of all the world’s color coming to life as the dawn breaks forth...it has been so long since last he saw any of that. Do you think he sat up specifically to watch that first dawn, while the other companions slept? It’s a beautiful thought. But I would follow that with the unfortunate potential consideration that he is starving—and when hunger eats away at one’s mind for long enough and in a demanding enough fashion, it can be remarkably difficult for a person to feel much of anything save very faint echoes of emotions or on the other extreme end only the strongest emotions, and more often than not those emotions are very likely to be the negative ones. Just about nobody’s happy when they’re starving after all. Astarion may very well feel awe at seeing the dawn again, but how deep does that feeling go, when instinct is screaming and gnawing at his very bones to insist that he is hungry? Famished. Starving. Appreciation for beauty is a privilege that is hard to enjoy at all in any degree of depth when the basic needs are wailing inside one’s head so loudly. And he can smell his companions’ blood, even when they’re not bleeding. He has also smelled their blood spill out into the open air too, during fighting. How does that eat at him, how does that sharpen his appetite so? Does it make his stomach twist in pain to smell what his senses are clamoring for and labeling as food so close, so near, as he slowly loses his mind waiting all day for the party to break camp so he can try to slip away and hunt? Does he catch anything? He does find some animals canonically in some encounters, but there is no guarantee he will find enough without expending strenuous effort, assuming he finds anything at all on a given night. And his luck does run out eventually it would seem. One night he just doesn’t have any reserves left in him to go hunt down another animal, to take another gamble that’s stacked even higher against him with how badly off he is. Does he feel an uncomfortable chill set in, cooling his blood and rendering his flesh even colder than his normally low body temperature standards as his undead form slips just a little bit closer to a semblance of true death, whether or not he can starve to death as a vampire? Do his hands shake? Can he think at all as thoughts fade in and out from hunger-induced weakness? Can he think through the haze of sensation and awareness if he breathes in through his nose, his open mouth, inhaling a lungful of the smell and taste of living blood right there? The smells that he’s grown familiar with over these last few days? The companion origin for Astarion definitely seems to spin it towards needing to know if he can resist Cazador’s orders now, but consider this thought: imagine the progression of realization that Astarion might have as he considers the idea that he could resist Cazador’s rules, with the lack of magical-compulsion to return to Cazador’s side right away. That if Astarion himself is no longer bound by those supernatural, unyielding, magically-enforced laws, he can also drink the blood of thinking creatures. He can drink the blood of people. He can drink the blood that he’s been smelling the enticing scents of this entire time. The blood that is right. There. And he is starving. Imagine how that must feel, that pupil-dilating moment of realization as muscles tense and the next breath comes in as a sharp inhale at the instantaneous, primal understanding that you can have food, real food, good food, right then and there when you feel like you’re dying for something, anything to stop the hunger from eating you alive from the inside out. And all you have to do, is take it. Humans in real life can potentially have very predatory responses to hunger at times, especially when it comes to hunting down prey animals, and when it comes to spotting an easy meal when one is working on empty reserves. Imagine how that can scale up for a vampire...and for Astarion, this is the first time he’s been free to actually choose to act on those instincts. Cazador’s rules have always been the backbone holding him in place as surely as the mindflayer prison pods kept everyone well and truly trapped—until our merry lot was broken free. Now though? The only thing standing between Astarion and his sleeping, delicious-smelling companions’ blood, is his own will and choice. That has to be equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. He’s never been free like this—free, with vampiric needs clamouring for his attention. Free, as a vampire, spawn or otherwise. But does he want to? I would actually suspect he feels conflicted about that on multiple levels, given a possible line Auntie Ethel might say should you fight her. ”You’re one thirsty night away from betraying everyone!” [One of Auntie Ethel’s taunts when using Vicious Mockery during her potential fight, linked here in astarions-ears’s post.] On the one hand: the power to take what he wants, what he needs, is at his fingertips. Much like how the power of the tadpole is. It could help him protect himself, be stronger, do whatever he wants...just like the tadpole power. This whole situation is a mess of temptation in the long term for Astarion in so many ways. On the other hand though...I suspect based on that line from Ethel above, assuming it makes it into the final version of the game, given that it’s used during a casting of Vicious Mockery, I would say there’s fair grounds to assume Astarion does have at least reservations about betraying the party, at the very least with the hesitation given rise from self-serving desires such as wanting to have a group of people in his corner. I would say though, it wouldn’t cut so deep, and wouldn’t be so vicious a mockery, if he didn’t care that it was betrayal. I think it safe to say that if he truly didn’t care in some shape or form, Ethel would’ve ended up mocking some other aspect of Astarion’s personality or insecurities, likely something along the lines that everything he does is futile as he will still end up killed or enslaved by either Cazador or others (such as the party and MC having so much sway over his life and choices), rather than needling him about betrayal of all things. Another reservation he might have from lack of experience is that he’s never hunted other people for his own food before. He might never have hunted for someone personally of his own free will before this point, either. That little nuance could be a hook on which he hangs onto for dear life—or unlife—in order to keep what remains of his perceived identity. Who does he want to be, and among those details, what must he be, in order to survive? What can he avoid doing? Does he want to be what he perceives as a monster? Is he hoping not to become a monster, to validate that he isn’t one already, based on his conversation after you catch him trying to steal some of the MC’s blood? “I’m not some monster!” There’s also the line from the post-Raphael first meeting, “If I keep the tadpole, I risk turning into a monster.” which all seem to imply that Astarion draws a line between what he thinks is and isn’t monstrous, much like in the first meeting with Astarion where if you tell him about the tadpole, he laughs bitterly and goes, “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster.” Isn’t that an interesting turn of phrase? It implies so much fertile ground for speculating on what he thinks of both his own vampirism, and what precisely makes someone or something a monster. The MC has come into Astarion’s life at such a fascinatingly crucial point in time, beyond just Astarion’s sudden new freedom, however fragile, from Cazador. Because of that freedom, this is also the time of exploration and self-definition for Astarion to decide who he is, and who he will be, a coming-of-age if you will, which is hysterically ironic and well-played by Larian Studios in my opinion given that he is almost assuredly going to be the chronologically oldest member of the main party. This dovetails so very neatly into the MC’s already obvious potential influence on how Astarion views his condition, other people, the world around him, his own self and morality...it’s really just so rife with potential. This particular part is nothing too new, just added detail and layering on top of previous musings in past posts, but there are elements of interest to examine I think. Personally, I was inclined to guess Astarion as being older, even as elves go, based largely on the fine lines one can see upon his face when he’s emoting, some elements of his attitude and dialogue—(“A fine effort, but I’ve seen it all. I was walking this land while your ancestors were learning to crawl.” - said if you fail a skill check during his recruitment scuffle)—but looking at some of these other elements has me reconsidering that. Perhaps he was more on the young adult side of the elven age range, rather than middle aged prior to being turned? If he can retain scars as a vampire under the living conditions Cazador subjected him to, perhaps he also has stress-related aging tells, since it seems from other DND materials (Curse of Strahd I believe has a vampire locked in a basement that’s largely starved of blood if I recall correctly? I am uncertain of the details regarding the situation unfortunately) that vampires can at least show physical deterioration when it comes to being starved for blood. It would be an entertaining take in my personal opinion to see an older character having a coming-of-age growth type arc, since those are almost always strongly associated with a relatively narrow range of ages from teenaged-to-middle-twenties-ish protagonists and characters. Whichever way Larian goes with it though, it is looking quite promising just based on the overall quality of the various game elements so far. To build on that possible theme interpretation though, there is another element that I think ties into Astarion’s uncertain age as well—how much he remembers of his life before Cazador, and how much life there was to remember to begin with. One might generally presume that the older a character is, the more time they’ve had and thus more opportunity to learn, to be exposed to life experiences, to garner wisdom. Often, this also tends towards a certain amount of cementing of a person’s outlook, personality, and other core traits along with potential varying levels of self-awareness regarding those elements. It goes without saying that people do still change sometimes dramatically other times gradually over the course of their lives, but typically the more easily-influenced vibes commonly go with younger and/or more naive character builds, though not always of course. Without addressing significant or otherwise notable exceptions, specific nuances or variations though, there is something of a vague expectation and template starting-base that older characters and personalities are typically more “put together”, “collected”, and less likely to be outright mutable. Astarion though? As a character in an RPG that is built upon the foundations of choices, in a DND world where choice IS the defining feature in both character expression and storytelling? His core will remain as himself I’m sure, but by the very nature of the game attempting to make this an enjoyable experience for the audience, odds are very good that Astarion will be heavily influenced in his outlook into a set number of branched endings based on what the MC chooses to say and do. But I have some potential suspicions now that Astarion might actually be a touch more malleable in some parts of his outlook and manner beyond the influence of just the aforementioned elements above. Consider the following lines Astarion currently has in Early Access, including one mentioned previously: “Hell’s teeth! Was solid food always so foul?” [Said in the previously posted link above when eating a treacle tart for presumably the first time, stolen from Auntie Ethel’s before illusion is lifted.] “I’ve seen so little of the world. Still, there’s time now.” [Looking at a globe, post linked here, from Pjenn’s blog] “I haven’t spent much time with helpless old ladies. Was that normal?” [If you kill Mayrina’s brothers and Auntie Ethel disappears into thin air. Video from Danaduchy on youtube linked here] “Probably wise. No one gets that old and crooked playing by the rules.” [Same conversation as above mentioned in the video regarding Auntie Ethel if the second option “I’m not sure. We should watch ourselves around her.” is chosen in response to Astarion’s question.] While one could certainly retain youthful or what one might call immature or dramatic inclinations even through to one’s golden years, I am on the fence on how far Astarion’s presentation is strictly personality-based versus influenced by a possible lack of diverse life experiences. Nature versus nurture, as it were. The first of the above quotes seem to suggest he hasn’t done much traveling, and may have some wanderlust in him (potentially hinting at moon elf wanderlust leanings?), but then why wasn’t he out traveling? Why did he become a magistrate? There is much life to be lived in great depth and diversity when one stays in one place, true. But we really know so little about Astarion’s past before Cazador, all in all, and that intriguingly puts him back in step with most of the other companions at this point of backstory reveal, I’d say. If we include Cazador’s influence, I’d say we’ve seen quite a bit more of his story than most of the others because there’s a lot more visibility and immediately-threatening emotional tension in his story, even when compared to Gale’s, surprisingly, followed by Wyll’s, Shadowheart’s, and then Lae’zel’s as of what I personally have seen of their stories (my knowledge may be lacking, even as far as Early Access content goes.) To be fair though, Astarion is the one who thus far shows the most visible, dramatic expressions of fear and trauma regarding his backstory than all the rest, so that would be a major factor as to why it feels like we’ve seen more of his tale, among other factors. Regarding life experiences within a more geographically limited area though—that puts some of Astarion’s comments as even more markedly odd to me. Specifically those comments of his after Auntie Ethel poofs away into thin air, should the party slay Mayrina’s brothers for Ethel, “I haven’t spent much time with helpless old ladies.” Perhaps his specification is the helpless part, but even if he was spending time with powerful old ladies, who asks “is it normal for the elderly to disappear into thin air like that?” He must have met some older people, ladies included, as Baldur’s Gate is not a strictly elven city, according to the wiki its demographics are mostly human but widely diverse. [Link to wiki page here.] This is especially strange if he’s of a noble background and was ostensibly working with other government officials, one would expect a range of ages with plenty of older individuals present both in his work and social circles, even if only in passing. That’s just not adding up, especially if it’s a genuine question, which his expressions and tone of voice during his inquiry in addition to his responses afterwards to the MC’s various dialogue options all seem to suggest if not confirm. If that question was coming from a young character who hasn’t seen the world, one would assume they were just incredibly sheltered. What does it mean coming from Astarion? What’s even stranger is that Astarion is the one who baits the MC into a trap using a similar disception upon meeting—”Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered!” One would think Astarion would recognize a ruse like that as one of the oldest tricks in the book: pretend to be helpless to get someone else to do the dirty work for you. Such a trick often is pulled off well especially when the pretender is either a) pretty/handsome, b) innocent looking (young or otherwise), c) dressed in a uniform or clothes that have helpful connotations for snap judgements in one’s favor (e.g. wearing good-aligned clergy garments), d) helpless looking (young, old, specific subgroups depending on culture, disabled, etc), or has other elements to their advantage there. If Astarion doesn’t recognize that particular ruse, which he doesn’t seem to, that has additional implications going on for him. If he did recognize the ruse, one would expect his reaction to be much more in line with Shadowheart’s. If he recognized it and was hiding it, one would think he wouldn’t want to play stupid, if only for pride’s sake—for all that Astarion has done things that have unquestionably humbled him, his penchant for verbal wit and criticism (various insults aimed at the MC and others regarding their intellect/stupidity) and touchy ego makes playing stupid seem like a very emotionally taxing and potentially painful thing for him to do, and thus not worth the mental/emotional effort in what looks like a very low-stakes situation. He seems too impulsive and reactive to be planning out a long-term con of hiding his intelligence, he makes far too many quips to pull that off at this point. Assuming Astarion does indeed not recognize the ruse beforehand, some of the possible implications for that could speculate on his overall awareness of his techniques when it comes to deception and manipulation. He definitely can spot it on occasion based on a narrated internal monologue line presumably from his origin— *I gave her a hard look. Never play a player.* [Linked to the audio of this line here from scionsandsinners’s blog] That he spots it in the potential origin line above, but presumably not with Auntie Ethel, might suggest that his experience is likely limited to within certain restricted lanes of behavior, likely seduction were one to guess based on what we know of his backstory and some datamined emotional directions/descriptions for voice acting, along with speculation based on his in-game behavior and demeanor. That would potentially push him moreso towards appearing when being manipulative to be doing so out of either self-perceived need (e.g. defending personal interests, inquiring after information of interest, etc), learned response, social norms, and other short term motivations that are more situational than long-term planning. I admit I’m still personally not of the opinion he’s playing a long-term game, and is playing it by ear as he goes—both honestly and not-so-honestly, as mentioned in previous posts on the subject. [Mentioned past essay post of mine linked here] In regards to short-term machinations, I think they’re all largely emotion or survival driven, as far as we’ve seen. I would include the voice acting direction for the romance scene where it’s noted that this is a power game for Astarion and that he’s an old hand at seducing others. Specifically from the synopsis: “For Astarion, this is a game of power - one he’s played many times before in the taverns of Baldur’s Gate, trying to lure people back to his master. He’s an old hand at seduction, very self-assured at first, but the player might not go along with the script he expects them to follow.” [Link to Pjenn’s post here.] I’ve seen intriguing, angsty, and fun takes on what this might mean all around tumblr, so allow me to offer up an additional one that might either compliment some of the already circulating pre-existing ones, or stand on its own depending on personal preference. Consider what power means to Astarion in the context of seducing someone specifically when it’s to lure them back to Cazador’s mansion under orders. It truly isn’t power in the sense of anything one might consider meaningful even under broad definitions. It’s a short-term deception, appealing to someone enough to get them to do what he wants for a short time, likely just enough time to flirt and then bait them back to Cazador’s estate (we’ll be skipping over speculation of anything else Astarion and company might get up to between point A and point B in this essay for simplicity’s sake, though there is much to consider on how it might impact his behavior and outlook there.) One of the specific words of interest I would say is the use of “script” in there. I’m sure others can hear it too when they listen to his dialogue during the party romance scene, but it really does sound like he’s putting on a tried-and-true act that might come across as a little over the top in romantic-dramatic-flair. One potential inference that can be gleaned from this might be some of Astarion’s expectations regarding how people perceive him, and most specifically how people perceive him in a desirous way. I will admit, Astarion’s romance scene makes me laugh, I'm impressed he and the MC both can avoid laughing at his lines in-scene, no disrespect intended. To me, he sounds like he ripped those lines straight out of a torrid romance novel, the kind where women might have a momentary description of heaving, delicate bosoms barely constrained by their bodice laces, while the men have had their shirts ripped open to display rippling muscles in a moment of romantic daring do. It makes me wonder if someone will go with a modern AU idea of BG3′s main crew that includes Astarion moonlighting as a much beloved romance/erotica writer under a nom de plume—the man has lines and characteristics that would shift well in such a verse-transposition. With that comparison in mind, I would suggest that Astarion is very, very used to playing the role of the illicit lover, the tempter of passions and other archetypes wherein he is the one confidently enticing people to cross the line of propriety with him for the implied, unspoken promise of a night filled with unparalleled ravishment. It might be he is fully, intentionally playing up to people’s fantasies about the passionate lover who falls madly in love with them at first glance. The fantasy of being so madly desired, as put forth by some romance stories. Then we have this other portion of the acting direction for the scene, “... very self-assured at first, but the player might not go along with the script he expects them to follow.” Isn’t that interesting? “Very self-assured at first,” why only at first? What changes? Does he have little doubts springing to mind then, because the realization that he knew, but didn’t really know until this moment when he feels the difference, that this isn’t just another routine night like all those other countless nights over the past two centuries where he had to tempt some poor, unfortunate soul back to Cazador’s waiting clutches? That this is someone he’s picked to spend the night with, solely for his own motivations, with no one else pulling the strings? Is it another moment of the realization of freedom, wherein he feels a touch terrified? Suddenly there is no script, there is no expectation of what he’s seen happen time after time after time after time to each person who’s looked at him the way the MC is looking at him now. Is it anxiety? Is it trauma? Is he feeling a moment of distant, cognitive dissonance that this time, this time, this person whom he’s picked, won’t be dead at the end of this? That he doesn’t have to hold them at arm’s length with the they’ll be dead soon or worse mentality he may have had previously...but can he afford to care? Does he dare? Whether he does or does not, it could be such a scary little moment of epiphany, that he even has the option to do so without immediate, horrendous repercussions. But can he really care, even without Cazador looming overhead as an immediate threat? Even if Cazador is slightly more distant now...there’s still the matter of the tadpoles. There is so much uncertainty potentially. Could this be the last chance he gets at having as close to a normal night of fully consenting, fully aware, mutual passion with another person as he can ever have, as a vampire spawn? Astarion could be interpreted as a character who is very strongly ruled by his emotions, in particular his fears and his desires. Does it befit his fears or his wants more to engage as he does in the romance scene? I’d guess moreso his fears, but it’s a fun back-and-forth he’s got as a character, zigzagging between those two extremes. He fears trusting as denoted in the dialogue from him if you fail the persuasion check asking him to trust you and to talk about who he dreamed about, but since you can persuade him...does that mean he wants to trust? If he speaks truthfully in this following scene, he does trust the MC to some degree out of necessity and/or the want to trust, as mentioned if you use the illithid powers in the camp bite scene where he’s revealed to be a vampire. He has likely been alone among the crowd of Cazador’s other spawn, given the lack of mention of anyone else, friend or otherwise, in his banter with Shadowheart regarding if there was anyone waiting for him back in Baldur’s Gate and other general conversations and discussions. That’s rather concerning truth be told, to go two hundred years with what might be a complete lack of positive or healthy social connection. Another thing Cazador has ripped away intentionally, it would seem. Does he want connection, meaningful friendship or otherwise? The fact that his approval rating has an impact on his manner of address of the MC or other selected origin character seems like it could be read as a suggestion that he does show whom he likes and dislikes openly in fairly standard socializing behaviors. That he does want to spend time around people whom he likes, who like him back. What would’ve been terribly clever of Larian (said without being able to compare all the different levels of approval shown via dialogue general greetings from the different companions), is if they had a character whose greeting was still amicable, polite, and most importantly friendly even when their approval of you was low. What if such a theoretical character’s greetings never changed, or changed very little aside from some variation at higher approval levels? That could be a great little twist of game mechanics to show either Something Isn’t Right, or that the character is a great liar, through meta knowledge on the player’s part of comparing all these disparate little details to compare and contrast. That kind of tell could be used to show that a character lacks either a degree of empathy and care for the main character, or that they are keeping the MC at arms’ length regardless of what the MC does (barring some potential high-approval impact and side-quest-completion that leads to influencing such a character, who might otherwise be a betrayer, into remaining loyal.) Seeing as Astarion lacks those major tells as of yet and that he does engage honestly either through persuasion or eventual revelation (such as if you fail the first dream-convo persuasion check, you find out from when he wakes up from nightmares regarding Cazador “reading poetry” what his dreams really were about), one could assume he does, in spite of all he’s been through, despite all the reasons he’s been given to fear, all the repetition beaten into his head to never trust another person ever again or to ever be trusted ever again... ...in spite of all that, perhaps a part of him still wants to reach out and engage with others. That some part of him still wants to interact as most if not all people do, in an emotionally meaningful and honest way. He says to the MC that he thinks they want to be known—and as I’m sure many of you clever lot who are in the shipping business alongside the rest of us have already thought or written out into fic, it very well may be that Astarion wants to be known too. Not just in the romantic or impassioned-love-affair manner of speaking, but simply for who he is, with both the MC and the rest of the group too. Accepted. Does he enjoy the little quips and barbs (assuming he actually is allowed to drink humanoid blood) such as from Shadowheart regarding his vampirism? Does that feel like a new, pleasant normal to him that he likes after a while? A joke between friends? Like the line “You know? I’m a little proud none of you were stupid enough to trust him!” [Linked here from scionsandsinners’s blog] while definitely still sporting his current insultingly low bar of expectations, it could be a nice potential build towards actually getting attached to the group on the whole as friends. Did he have that before he turned at all? Did he want that before? It seems likely given what we’ve seen of his raw emotional drive, that his potential desire for meaningful connection however obscured behind quips and barbs, that those elements were always a part of him in some way, shape or form. Does he remember, though? Or is it potentially something he’s forgotten, to some extent or other? Does he remember vaguely what friendship was like as another hollow memory among many, after so many years of torment wearing away at his mind? Do his friends from life if any still live? That could be bittersweet, if he did leave someone behind from when he was alive, that we might meet in Baldur’s Gate. He calls that Before—that time when he was still alive, before he lay dying and accepted Cazador’s offer of eternal life and was thus turned into a vampire spawn—so long ago it’s ancient history. “Everything before that is so long ago it’s ancient history and everything that came after…well uhm–I’d rather not reflect on it.” [Link here, from scionsandsinners] In some lines, tentatively guessed as post-vampire-status-reveal casual dialogue regarding his past before Cazador, relating to his days as a magistrate, he says he can’t remember what happened too clearly. “I…can’t remember much, truth be told–centuries of torment will do that to you.” [link from scionsandsinners blog] According to google searches on the internet for DND rules regarding the turning of vampires and vampire spawn, they do seem to retain the memories of their life even into undeath. Astarion certainly could be obfuscating and lying about how much he remembers from back then...but consider this alternative as a possibility: What if he isn’t? [Spoilers for some of the Amnesia game series ahead, specifically Amnesia: The Dark Descent, and the DLC Amnesia: Justine.] What if he does have a certain degree of memory loss? Enter the comparison of Daniel and Justine both from Amnesia: The Dark Descent and the game’s DLC. Astarion, unlike the main character for Amnesia’s main campaign Daniel, did not technically volunteer for memory loss...unless one counts agreeing to take Cazador’s deal as volunteering, specifically without full and knowing consent of what he was getting into. Daniel in comparison knowingly and willingly ingests a potion to erase his memories, and leaves a note to motivate himself and thus the player to follow the course of ensuing events that make up the game. Justine does so in a similar fashion to Daniel, but her memory loss is intentionally temporary, whereas Daniel seems to have meant for it to be of a more permanent fashion. What if part of Cazador’s intentions regarding torturing his spawn, including Astarion, was to break down memories of happier times until those spawn could only remember that they had ever been happy once, not the actual memory, not the actual feeling—only the bitter, hollow forgetfulness and knowledge that they had known, once? Starvation is devastating in many, many, many ways. Ways that are so rarely fully explored in fiction beyond the feeling of extreme hunger. Few, after all, would consider the impact of malnourishment or a constant caloric deficit upon mental faculties unless they have observed it, experienced it, or studied it. It is possible to suffer actual physical brain damage from starving, so one must ask is it so surprising that the ability to think, comprehend, and process information, memory or emotion also falters when under the very real physical stress of prolonged famine? The brain eats up at least a fifth of the baseline caloric intake required for the average person’s bodily needs. It does not compromise well for less without the person in question suffering consequences for most if not all individuals. We know Astarion has not had more than enough to barely survive under Cazador, and the quality has been well below subpar at best. What if, after all he’s been through, with the exhaustion of constant fear and extreme pain, of unending ravenous hunger, and so much more...what if Astarion can’t remember much of before at all? What if he has forgotten chunks of his past? He does remember large, broad brushstrokes yes, the shape of ideas and what he once knew. The home he might long to see that he has not laid eyes upon in centuries [mentioned in the conversation with the Ornate Mirror if Astarion is the one talking to it (or does it require he be the chosen main origin?) I have no source available at this current time alas.] How much of that home does he remember in full? I’m sure he can recall some details...but are they the abstract knowledge of those details of what he knew they were like, or the actual memory? Can you imagine the added layer of pain for an elf, if Larian is working with any of the racial features involving trancing, or the Reverie, if it’s built based off of the 2e DND Complete Book of Elves excerpt as mentioned in the following linked thread? [Posted by Remathilis, key word phrase is “The Reverie” or “The reverie is akin to sleep”, linked here] Specifically if these elements are at play: “The reverie is akin to sleep, yet is very much unlike it. When elves enter this state, they vividly relive past memories, those both pleasant and painful. Like the dreaming of humans, elves have no control over which memories rise to the fore when they relinquish their bodies to the reverie. Occasionally, elves do actually dream, but this is not a frequent occurrence and mostly occurs only when they truly sleep.” “Although the reverie provides rest, it is primarily an important memory tool that helps the elf maintain a strong sense of identity. Since their lifespans are so great, elves must periodically recall the events in those hundreds of years that were integral to the making of their personality.” This is from older versions of DND rules it’s true, but if it still applies, and applies to Astarion? This man has had over two hundred years’ worth of memories full of suffering and torment that, if he’s having traumatic PTSD nightmare episodes also helping to induce a higher frequency of recalling his torment at the hands of Cazador both during those centuries and afterwards, are potentially shaping his personality not only through the channels we can recognize in both fiction and the real world in psychological and physiological terms, but also supernatural or magical influences due to his being an elf and potentially shaped by the influence of what memories his reverie might dredge up. And the larger the number of traumatic, dark, fearful memories he has, the more likely he is to encounter them, especially if they’re coupled with a constant, ongoing fear of knowing these memories will be made anew each night unto infinity if he is stuck bound to Cazador’s service forever. Who wants to bet Cazador knew about this aspect of elven psychology/biology? Or at the very least speculated it, as far as having elven vampire spawn went? It will be interesting to see if there are other elven vampire spawn among Cazador’s underlings—either for the route of Cazador taking a particular extra pleasure in breaking elves because they are supposedly harder to influence in such a manner if he had others before Astarion, or if Astarion was the first elf Cazador turned, then perhaps Astarion received particular, special attention for being seen as an added challenge due to being an elf. Alexander from Amnesia however had to use a slightly defter touch to manipulate Daniel, having not so concrete a hold over him as Cazador over Astarion. But the torture of others, of fleeing to Alexander’s or Cazador’s promise of safety from an impending horror or threat of death, followed by a descent into the dark, unyielding despair of what Daniel or Astarion have done to survive? They do have potential parallels enough to make for a possible AU exploration in fics, certainly. One question that arises in this scenario of comparison though, is how much is Astarion aware of? How much of Cazador’s insidious influence does he recognize, in particular the more subtle parts that have seeped in over the years? Consider then the added layer of stark, blinding contrast, that he now has new memories, of new people, new experiences, in particular ones that are not torture or the anticipation of said torture, and it’s all in the daylight. Memories of daylight the likes of which he’s not had in two hundred years. Consider the mere color contrast from the lighting difference of daylight versus night time, like in the line where he asks “Was the sky always this blue? It’s magnificent…” [Link here to the audio, presumed triggered after vampire status reveal] If he dreams in reverie and the memory that comes to mind is set in the daytime...would he feel a bit safer in hoping that it will be a safer, better dream, than if it’s set in the night time? Consider how much of a horrible, terror-inducing surprise it might be to dream of a sun-filled garden, only to see an idealized version of Cazador show up, a la the tadpole. That has to be the meanest surprise-twist Astarion could have for a dream setting there. But on other nights if he does not have memories of Cazador or tadpole dreams plaguing him, does he dream of the camp, the companions, the MC, the actions their group has undertaken? What does he think of those dream-memories? Are they only relatively restful compared to the other dark memories lurking in his head, or are these new daylight-filled memories actually objectively restful for him? Perhaps one additional group of reasons he’s willing to join up with the party, is to get away from the memories. With people, there is the added unknown factor of complexity and chemistry, of lives and histories not his own added to the mix of any situation they come across. Of interaction. Of not being left alone to his own thoughts and nightmares. This group’s members aren’t victims meant for Cazador’s fangs and thirst, nor are they Cazador’s spawn, fellow damned souls and torturous devils both who alternate suffering upon the rack and potentially being the ones to turn the rack’s wheels for whoever is tied down upon it that night. Mayhaps Astarion wants to remember more of the things he’s forgotten in the darkness of all the years he’s suffered under Cazador—to make new memories of things he would associate with living, with being free. To fill in the hollowed out abstract memories with fresh, new details of life lived in the sun, in the here and now. Is he aware of just how much he’s forgotten? Even if he isn’t fully cognizant of the full tally of all that he’s potentially lost...it must still hurt to have an idea of how much he’s lost even if he’s only partially aware. In this, he might hold more comparison to Justine from Amnesia’s DLC moreso than Daniel, depending on what choices Astarion makes if he’s the chosen origin, or on the MC’s choices if it’s a custom origin playthrough—with Justine, her choices are all setup and intended to be an exploration of who she is as an exploration of character, to find out if she is capable of mercy and compassion still—while exercising a great deal of monstrous cruelty for her own amusement. With Daniel there is still the solid comparison of thematic elements in that his quest is a desperate pursuit of revenge while trying to outrun a great evil, all while acknowledging that he himself is horrifying as well. Justine’s story would parallel Astarion far more so on the dark path through Baldur’s Gate 3, naturally, whereas Daniel, if one selected the Revenge Ending at the end of Amnesia, has more in common with Astarion’s tentatively projected good route—revenge, while also ending a greater evil than himself. The parallel with Daniel may possibly even include a comparison to Amnesia’s Good Ending depending on what direction Larian takes Astarion’s story in. I doubt Larian would have Astarion become self-sacrificial, but I could see him potentially becoming much more inclined towards helping his friends and party members on a good-aligned path, as he seems at least not entirely unwilling to engage in do-goodery, particularly if bribed enough. There’s also certainly the idea of comparing Daniel being “tainted” as Alexander put it by the Shadow to Astarion’s potential point of view on his vampirism, given some of his expressions at times in emotional scenes relating to it. Then also the comparison of all the horrors Daniel has inflicted upon people, as have Justine and Astarion, and the fact that after the amnestic-influence of their specific story elements in this build, they are ultimately all able to be influenced towards better or worse endings dependent upon more immediate influences, namely the people surrounding them, and less so from long-standing influences of their past such as tradition, upbringing, and other core elements of identity that memory so often brings to the table, or at least helps formulate the detailing of. Justine admittedly does not really have “better” endings, but her horror story’s core could be interpreted as “was truly a monster at heart all along” from start to finish. Will Astarion prove to be similarly corrupt at his core, something that had always been true deep down regardless of Cazador’s influence on him, ultimately sowing harm and ruin upon the world and people around him, like Justine? Or will he turn out to be leaning towards being more of a good-inclined, flawed character with a bloodstained history he regrets and seeks to overcome, like Daniel? As a disclaimer though, Daniel is not a Good-aligned personality. He did many horrifying things to preserve his life, and Astarion certainly has done terrible things canonically under Cazador’s direction, though we still wait to see what Astarion did back when he was free to choose. With the attention to detail Larian Studios is applying as is to just what we’ve seen in Early Access, I would expect a fairly nuanced backstory for Astarion with murky morality, based on what we see of his opinions and character traits now. Another idea just to let loose an additional fox among the chickens: Consider the added layer of potential morality conflict in the scenario where Astarion might actually have very well been pursuing his idea of justice as a magistrate— coupled with his low opinions of others which he may have had before Cazador turned him, along with his racist/discriminatory comments and behaviors (re: Gur, Goblins, Gnomes, Kobolds, etc), likely suggests he could very well have been very biased in his perspective on how he meted out justice. I would not be surprised if Larian Studios kept the story idea that he was selling criminals off, but I also would not be at all shocked if they added details where it made what Astarion was dishing out closer to overly-harsh street-justice—he makes a fine murder-hobo adventurer as it is when the watchword of the day for many an adventuring party is “Murder Is An Acceptable Solution If Words Aren’t Working.” I also wouldn’t bat an eye should we find out he was as judgmental and cynical before Cazador as he is now, albeit perhaps with a different bend to his outlook from life experience influences. This all really ties in well with the usual game build of everyone starting at level one, as brand new, green adventurers—barring past adventuring experiences for backstory like Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart do or potentially have—at the start of their journey, off to explore the world and grow into the world-savers (or world-enders) they’re destined to be in a given campaign. Astarion fits this very well on many levels, among them given the fact how new everything is to him with this sudden change of the rules altering the very fabric of his existence. He has to deal with figuring out how to deal with his vampirism under his own agency and all the ensuing complications that come with that, has to figure out how to socially interact with others in all new ways, has to level up to go on his personal quest to save his own hide and eventually his friends’ and the world—it’s all so new and different, even the things he’s experienced before with such a drastic perspective shift and a change in power. It ties right back into his tagline so nicely too if that ends up being a possible theme of his, the whole memory-loss/memory-informing-his-identity element of being an elf: “ Astarion prowled the night as a vampire spawn for centuries, serving a sadistic master until he was snatched away. Now he can walk in the light, but can he leave his wicked past behind?” Can he leave those memories behind and forge himself into a better version of himself, if that is what he wants? What choices will Astarion make, if he does indeed have warped memories due to Cazador’s corroding influence to the point of some degree of memory loss? How will this flood of new sensory and social experiences change him as he goes forward? Who will Astarion choose to be, at the end of the day when they reach the road’s end? Will he let those dark memories twist and shape him, or will he try to make new ones among new friends, and follow their lead back into the sunlight? So many potential questions! Speaking of potential good-versus-bad-paths, this line isn’t in the game yet, but I feel it suggests Astarion might have a certain tolerance or perhaps even willingness to at least consider going out and saving the world, beyond lines we’re all familiar with already at the Tiefling celebration party: “Don’t you think we have other priorities right now? We need to save ourselves before we can save the world.” [Link here from Pjenn’s datamined post, dialogue theoretically occurs after a currently locked-off from Early Access encounter with a drow servant of the Absolute in the Underdark] It makes for a lot of intriguing possibilities, I dare say, all of which could make for marvelous variations in core character trait builds and influences for different interpretations of Astarion as a character. So many choices and gradients to play with, he and all the rest of the main cast have such nuance, it’s fantastic. The cast of characters all so far seem to have a wide variety of wants and motivations, and Larian seems like they might be quite determined to blur the line and inspire more rich exploration opportunities regarding perceived morality among many other potential topics of discussion—we have good characters with on-going flaws and darker motivations, evil characters with recurrent virtues and sympathetic appeal, and quite a few in-between when non-party-member NPCs are included in the mix. I do think Astarion along with all the rest of the party fit into those kinds of complicated-morality situations we’ve seen play out and be hinted at so very nicely, and it will be such fun to see how they grow through these experiences! It’s marvelous writing, directing, animation, acting, and just straight up work all across the board it looks like from over here. Anyway, thank you all for coming along on this literary ramble with me, I hope you had a fine time and that you all have a lovely day or night as befits your current timezone. Happy tidings to you, and stay safe everyone, and see you next time! :D

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