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writefightandflightclub · 5 years ago

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Calm after the storm (dad!Nathan x fem!reader)

Summary: dad!Nathan / ex-husband!Nathan and angst. He comforts your son during a storm. You were always better at dishing out comfort, but Nathan is trying his best to learn how. He’s had to, since you left him. If only he could get you to come home, after he pushed you so far away.

Author’s note: my 1st go at writing something emotional / angsty with Nathan. Different to my other Nathan stuff, so won;t be offended if you don’t like it! No-one asked for this but this popped into my head and ended me and I figured I’d drag you down with me. Will add taglists tomorrow :o) (If you DO happen to like it, please let me know! Writing has been so slow for me lately and honestly I’m just pleased to have finished something.)

Warnings: language, themes of children, divorce / separation, angst, alcohol abuse / misuse, parent!reader.

Warning that there is zero smut in this. Nathan is literally a father when I say daddy here. Just to be clear. Some may feel this is ooc (I may have used a bit of license with his character to achieve angst, but actually, I don’t think it’s too far from a potential truth?)? Mistakes etc. maybe, but I can’t look at this a second longer so here it is.

Word count: 8.8k (sorry!)

Nathan’s head whips up from his computer screen as he sees a tiny, shadowed figure appear in the doorway to his lab. He pauses his frenzied typing, but retains the frown weighing on his brow.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, buddy,” he says sternly, bathed in a pool of blue light and looking at the child from beneath his lenses. Hell, when did it get so dark?

“I’m scared,” a tearful little voice says, and Nathan sighs, pushing back his chair with a small, thin-lipped smile as he regards the boy. His soft, dinosaur-adorned pyjamas have been twisted by sleep, and he is rubbing his balled-up fists into his cheeks, a pet lip trembling beneath. Nathan never did understand the kid’s obsession with dinosaurs.

Unlike father, unlike son.

Things long dead and gone? Nathan didn’t like to look back, after all. He looked ahead. Moved forward. There’s nothing for me over my shoulder.

With his headspace out of his work, Nathan suddenly notices the rain drumming down against the skylight. The rumble of thunder and flash of lightning carving the sky open.

“The storm?” he asks, rising to meet the boy as his little feet pad with trepidation across the cold lab floor to his father. The boy nods. He looks slightly uncertain, since he’s not allowed in the lab, but enters and sticks his arms up into the air all the same. He does that tentatively too, since Nathan hasn’t historically been generous with affection; and yet, this time, Nathan wordlessly scoops him up on to his hip, his heart clenching as the boy’s wet, grabby little hands fist into his Henley. His severe gaze softens instantly; though not all the way. The gesture is still a little rusty.

“That’s illogical, bud - it’s not gonna hurt you. Let’s get you back to bed.��

Irrational. Emotional. Unlike father, unlike son.

You were always better at the comfort stuff. Of course you were. Still, Nathan thinks he’s learning, without you. He’s had to learn.

Nathan quietly carries the little spider-monkeyed bundle back to his bed. He offers no words of comfort, but he does offer a firm and reassuring pat on his back as he walks. The boy smells of bath bubbles and baby oil, mixed-in with fresh detergent and that indescribable kid smell, and Nathan feels alarmingly soothed as he inhales the scent.

A flood of memories comes back, but he pushes them down. There is nothing for him over his shoulder, after all. Nothing in the past he would care to resurrect.

Carefully balancing the boy with one strong arm, Nathan peels back the covers and slots him back into his soft bed, the glow of the nightlight illuminating the boy in a blue halo.

Like father, like son.

The man securely tucks him in and smooths the covers, his eyes alarmingly gentle now, even amidst his stony face; however, the boy is still not entirely placated. His eyes are still wide. His bottom lip is still trembling.

Nathan sighs and lowers himself on to the edge of the bed, his genius brain struggling with this problem. Apparently, simply telling a 4-year-old they’re being illogical doesn’t cut it. Children; so inefficient. So tiny and fragile and…

The best thing I ever created.

Let’s hope he doesn’t grow up to stab me in the chest.

“Okay,” he begins, with a sweep of his hand over that buzzed head of his. “Do you know what static electricity is, buddy? One of the forces which attracts or repels things? Remember?”

“Repels. Pushes things away?” the small voice asks him.

I pushed her away. I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

Fear is often based on lack of knowledge. Nathan imagines if he explains the storm, he can demystify it. Take its power away. Still, the 4-year-old looks up at him in confusion, little fingers tightly gripping the edge of the bed covers. His mess of curls splaying over the pillow like a rolling black cloud.

Maybe you did get your mother’s average brain.

We can hope you got fuck all from me, kid.

“Come on, champ, we talked about this...” Nathan sighs, with mild impatience, and then he thinks some more – just like he’s always thinking, except algorithms make sense to him, and how could he hope to solve this?

Nathan shuffles up on to the bed until his back is against the wall, perpendicular to the boy. “Okay,” he says, slapping his palms gently against his thighs. “Remember when we were at Ankita’s party, and you rubbed that balloon on your head, huh? And then all of your hairs stood-up and it kinda tickled?”

The child giggles – a sound that punches Nathan in the gut. “Yeah, Daddy, and it didn’t work on your bald head.”

Nathan exhales through a small smile which doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, you remember,” he nods, waving his hand in the air as he tries to find simple language to continue his explanation. “Well. It’s like the sky is having a party, and the clouds are rubbin’ up against each other, making all this static. Understand?” Nathan continues, and the child is rapt, listening to his father’s deep, steady, sandy voice. “But clouds don’t have hair-“ there is another giggle, and this time Nathan’s eyes do crease with his smile, “-so instead they send their lightning forking out in all directions. You got it?”

“A party?” the boy enquires, still unsure. His hands gripping more tightly to the covers and his face inching further below them as a particularly loud rumble of thunder sounds overhead.

“Right. A party.” Nathan runs with it, pleased that he’s getting somewhere. Moving forward. Making progress. “And parties can be noisy, right? All that dancing and singing and scraping chairs around?”

The kid briefly looks at his father as if he’s stupid -a trait you’d always had nailed- but in the next heartbeat he seems to accept the explanation given, the fear in his eyes beginning to ease, though not entirely gone.

He’s still afraid.

Like father, like son.

It’s evident that Nathan needs to devise something even more soothing. He vaguely considers trying to explain the unparalleled lightning and surge protection in-built into this facility, but he thinks better of it. He instead plumps for something he dearly hopes the kid will understand somewhat better than he comprehends static electricity. “You’re safe here and nothing can hurt you,” he says, raising his eyebrows up from beneath his frames and delivering an intent stare, smoothing a broad hand on the boy’s chest and shoulder. “I promise, kid. Would Daddy let anything hurt you?”

“No,” the boy answers, peeking up at Nathan with big eyes, shaking his little head and rustling his curls against the pillow. It breaks Nathan’s heart that his voice wavers, as if he’s a little unsure of his answer.

“Exactly. Not in a million fuckin’ years.” Nathan says adamantly, his deep, dark eyes intense with conviction to emphasise his point.

“Daddy!” The boy gasps when Nathan curses, little palms rising to clamp down over the shocked “o” of his mouth.

“Ah, shit. Don’t tell your Mama I said a naughty word, okay?” Nathan sucks air through his teeth and delivers a sheepish half-grin.

“I miss Mommy.”

The boy blinks. His eyes sad, his emotions constantly unmasked. Feeling. Always feeling.

Unlike father, unlike son.

Nathan’s chest tightens. He scoops up the plush dog, Crunchy, from on top of the duvet and settles her in the boy’s arms, buying him some time to arrange his busy thoughts.

Thinking. Always thinking.

The dog is so named since it spent the boy’s early years crusted with dried-in food and mud and whatever else. Nathan had dubbed it Crunchy Mutt, and the name had stuck. Memories nip at his heels, but he doesn’t let you creep back in. Doesn’t fill the gaps.

Nathan emits a shallow sigh. He misses you too.

Like father, like son.

His eyes are almost soft, almost apologetic as they meet the boy’s again. He is sorry, in that moment, for depriving the boy of you for half of his time. He shouldn’t have to miss out on you. You shouldn’t have to miss out on your son. Nathan knew all this was because of him.

Nathan had sworn never to let anything hurt you, either. To look after you, and yet...

I pushed her away.

I’m a force. A force of nature.

A storm.

“Mommy’ll be here to get you in the morning.” Nathan says in a taut, gruff voice, his beard bobbing as his throat wrestles around a hard swallow. “To take you… home.” At that, finally the boy finally looks content and sleepy, stretching his little face into a big yawn. Still, selfishly, Nathan no longer wants to be alone in this storm - alone with himself - and so, he keeps talking. “You know, your Mommy loves storms like this.”

“Really? Mommy doesn’t get scared?”

“No.” Nathan shakes his head, eyes becoming burdened with memories. “We would sit out on the deck, wrapped in blankets, and watch the lightning. Listen to the rain.”

“It’s science 101, genius. You can’t work in the lab during a storm. You might create Frankenstein.”

“Fuckin’… how many times? It’s Frankenstein’s monster, sweet cheeks. Frankenstein is the doctor.”

“I know, asshole. At this point I just say it to rile you. Never fails. You stay here then, and play at creating life. If you want to play at living one, I’ll be out on the decking.”

“How about I do both?”

“What are you saying, Nathan?”

“What about we make something together, while the sky is fucking rife with creation?”

The boy springs up in bed, capturing Crunchy in a choke-hold in excitement.

Nathan raises himself to standing - beginning to backtrack, and snapping back to the present day. Compartmentalising you. Putting long dead things to rest. He knows better than to look over his shoulder for too long.

“Can we go outside and watch it, Daddy?”

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so, buddy. It’s way past your bedtime. Go to sleep now, okay?” His voice is sterner again - his gaze back to being more severe.

Still, he guides the boy back down to the mattress and plants a soft kiss on to his forehead, brushing his dark curls back. He kisses Crunchy on the head too, as he is routinely instructed to do.

“Night, kid. Night, mutt. Come on, off to sleep.”

His hands move to his hips, elbows cutting a sharp shape in the near-dark. The boy, however, looks wide awake, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and an excited glow on his face.

“Please, Daddy?” the boy pleads, with big, puppy dog eyes. So closely resembling your eyes, which Nathan always was a sucker for.

Yep. He’s definitely your son.

Nathan is about to use his stern voice, and his finger is moments away from wagging. And yet…

“Fine. Quickly then,” he concedes. “Get your coat and shoes on. And find your little red hat with the Pom-Pom that you look fuckin’ adorable in.”

“Daddy! No bad words!” the kid scolds, even as a smile of glee bursts on to his face and he wriggles out from beneath the covers.

“Yep, sorry! Don’t tell Mommy,” Nathan repeats on autopilot.

The boy springs out of bed and zooms with enthusiasm to his little closet, while Nathan gathers up some blankets from a neighbouring chest.

Sure - it was past the boy’s bedtime. Yes, Nathan had a lot of coding to rehash. But Nathan had lost you. He had let work consume him until there was nothing left for you. He was always looking ahead to what could be, and he didn’t pay enough attention to what he had, when he had it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. Not with his son. This time, at least, work could wait.

Once the pair are both dressed in their outerwear, Nathan hoists the boy up on to his hip again, and carries him out to the decking, on the side of the house with the best view of the storm churning over the miserable valley. He clings on to his son tightly as the pulse of lightning illuminates his awed little face, a perfect mixture of your features and his, and yet someone entirely his own. The boy gasps and shrinks back from the vast, roaring sky, nuzzling closer into Nathan’s chest, grabby hands fisting in his clothes again.

“It’s okay, buddy. It can’t hurt you, understand?” Nathan reassures.

The child visibly relaxes, absentmindedly tangling his fingers into the soft texture of Nathan’s beard.

He does that when he’s nervous. Seems to calm him down, Nathan notes, and files for later.

“Look, Daddy!” the kid points as forks of lightning raze through the blackened sky, sparkling eyes following the display.

“I saw it, champ,” Nathan confirms, as the storm lights up his child’s face in more ways than one. However, Nathan is more awed by his boy than the storm. By the boy you and he created, on a night not unlike this one.

He fixes his eyes on him as he grows in confidence, facing his fear of the braying wind and rumbling thunder. Being a parent is everything Nathan anticipated he would hate. Full of things you can’t control, and yet, he loves every way this boy surprises him.

Shit, he’s braver than me, Nathan thinks, as he cradles the boy in his arms, holding him just a little bit closer – a little bit tighter.

Nathan isn’t afraid often. In fact, in his adult life, he’s only been truly afraid a handful of times. On those occasions, he didn’t face it like the boy did. He tended to bury his fear, in a landslide of work and drunkenness and insults and excuses. To cocoon himself in his own self-interest.

Nathan was afraid when he fell in love with you, even despite his best efforts not to. He was terrified he didn’t deserve you.

He was afraid when you told him you were pregnant; he was terrified of creating another thing that hated him.

But Nathan has never been as afraid as when you left him, and took the boy with you. He was terrified that you would never come back.

You were brave. You were so brave that you never ran away from a storm, and yet you had fled from him.

What kind of storm am I, if even you ran from me?

Despite his fears though, Nathan was learning to be brave. He’s had to, since you’ve been gone. For his son, for you, he would fight off any foe or threat. Turns out, he would even do the hardest thing of all, and fight his own demons.

Yes, Nathan knew he was a stern man. Serious. Flawed. Unyielding. An asshole, a lot of the time.

He hadn’t been ready. To be humbled. By you. By the boy. Hadn’t been ready to face his shortcomings and his demons and look them in the eye.

He was afraid of creating something that hated him, but he hadn’t been prepared to create something better than himself. A child who was open, and kind, and brave, and loving. Who wasn’t afraid to feel, and to be kind.

Unlike father, unlike son.

The boy made him strong. The boy was just like you.

“Wow!” the boy gasps at another display of lightning, even though he jumps slightly as a loud rumble of thunder sounds. The shock makes him laugh - a sweet, musical, innocent noise that makes Nathan’s chest tear in half like the sky. The boy watches for a while longer as the storm tires itself out and the boy with it, the rain dying off to a pleasant lulling noise.

Nathan looks up at the sky too and he feels almost complete, until he looks to the other side of him; where you should be. Until he looks over his shoulder. To where long-dead things still haunt him.

“Mommy will be sad she’s missing the storm, won’t she Daddy? Can we send her a selfie?”

No tech after 5pm. Bed by 7pm. One of the co-parenting rules rings in his head.

It’s 2:30am, and he worries you will ride him for this, but surely this is an exception, right?

“Sure we can, bud,” Nathan responds, and he fishes his phone out of his pants pocket. The boy nuzzles into his chest in that adorable red hat, and gives a thumbs-up as Nathan extends his arm to grab a quick selfie. “Great photo. She’ll love it. What shall we tell her?”

“Hmm...” the boy thinks, and then he lands on the perfect words. “Say… I wish you were here,” he says with a toothy grin, unaware of the emotional sucker punch of his words.

Nathan’s chest tightens again, and he attempts to school the frown from his face.

I wish you were here.

Like father, like son.

Smoothing himself, he types out a message.

“Storm watching with Papa bear. Kid says: I wish you were here.”

“Ok,” he says softly, pinging the message away to you. “Done.”

The boy beams at his father.

“Will she type back?”

“Dunno, kid, she might be asleep.”

Tiredness hitting him, the boy nuzzles closer and Nathan gently rocks him on his hip, the boy’s eyes gradually closing.

When Nathan feels his phone vibrate, he lifts it back up, bathing the pair in a halo of blue once again. He is surprised to see a photo. There you are, wrapped up in a chunky cardigan and blanket on your new porch.

You’re watching the storm too, and god, you look so beautiful that it hurts him.

Beneath the picture, you have typed out: “Storm-watching, Mama bear edition. Wish I was there too, baby bear. I’ll see you in the morning. xxx”

He knows the smile and the wave and the words are solely for your son’s benefit, and not for him, but oh, how he wishes.

“Mommy’s watching the storm too!” the boy says sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open in the comfort of Nathan’s warm, strong arms, as his soporific movements rock him back to sleep.

“Yeah, bud, she is.”

And Nathan tugs the boy into his chest, bouncing him on his hip and stroking his hair -as much for his own comfort as anything- until he is soothed too.

***

After the boy is safely back in bed, Nathan plods sullenly back down to his workshop, bathing himself once again in a blue halo. His fingers gravitate naturally towards the keys, and though he should work, his mind is very much elsewhere. His mind is wrapped up with long-dead things.

With a heavy sigh, he fishes his phone out of his pocket again, and spends a wistful moment staring at the picture you had sent him.

“Fuck it,” he says, and he lifts up the photo frame he’s had face down on his desk for some time now. For months.

Longer.

It’s a picture of you and him and the boy, out on a hike a few years ago. Nathan is carrying your son in a harness on his front, and you are side by side with them, clasping the baby’s hand in yours, and your head leaning on Nathan’s shoulders. You’re all smiling, though none of you had managed to look at the camera, only at each other.

The sight of it makes Nathan’s throat constrict. Lights a fire of yearning in the pit of him. A fire he’s tried to quell and resist for so long – hasn’t let himself feel, because he’s afraid of the power of it.

He stares at his phone again, so many things he wishes to say, but all he has the courage to type is:

“Just letting you know. Byron’s back to bed now, before you ride me for keeping him up. Woke up scared.”

Your reply pings back almost immediately, as if you were expecting him.

“Come on, Nathan. I’m not a monster. It’s a sweet picture. He looks happy.”

Nathan scratches the top of his buzzed head, and he sees the tell-tale dots disappear and reappear, signalling you are considering typing something further.

“Say it,” he types out to you, blunt and demanding as ever, and although the dots disappear for a moment, you come back - finding some courage yourself, perhaps?

“I wish I was there too.” He wonders if you held your breath while typing it, like he did when reading it.

This time, it is Nathan’s turn to convey nothing but dots to you, as he struggles to respond. As his pulse thrums in his ears.

“Say it,” you echo, just as plainly.

He takes a deep breath, knowing he’s going to curse himself for his stupidity even as he types the message. He has been earning your trust back. He has been rebuilding. He hasn’t pushed you too far yet, and yet he can’t help but plead with you now.

He says what he most needs to say.

“Come home.”

He stares at the phone, his heart hammering in his mouth.

But there’s nothing. No message. No dots. He throws the phone down on the desk.

Fucking idiot, he chides himself, launching himself out of his seat with a surge of nervous energy, and coming to rest his forehead and elbow against the cool window pane as he tries to steady his nerves. This is why he doesn’t let himself feel. Because when he does, it’s too much.

Nathan’s best quality is also his worst. He isn’t a man of moderation. He doesn’t know how to stop. When to stop. He never has.

Doesn’t know when to stop working, drinking, striving, fighting.

Loving.

He loved you enough to split the sky open, and god damnit, he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. How can he solve this problem?

I pushed her away and she might never come back.

He feels a tightening in his chest - worse than before - and he has thoughts of reaching for a bottle until he’s blackout drunk, or hitting the punchbag until his knuckles bleed, but he bites those urges back down.

He has to. He has to, because his kid is in the house. For him. For you. For his own good too.

Gradually, Nathan -who once naively believed he had already attained perfection, superiority- has become a lot stronger, and a lot braver. A lot better at feeling his emotions instead of pushing them down. He has learned it from the boy, who learned it from you.

Still, despite this newfound courage -or, perhaps as a result of it- he has his moments of weakness, just like anybody else. He’s not untouchable. Not a god any longer.

Nathan is weak when it comes to you. He loves you. And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Overcome by the impulsive need to hear your voice, and ignoring all reason, he tracks back to the desk and calls you.

You answer almost instantly, as if you were expecting him.

“Nathan...” you say, in your eminently familiar voice, and he can he the agitation and accusation veiled as you say his name. What are you thinking? Always thinking. He’s always thinking. Yet, no- this time, he is only feeling. Finally feeling.

Still, Nathan doesn’t respond until a taut pattern of breaths has been laid like a tightrope for him to walk across.

Then, with a deep exhale, he asks you again. A plea. His face sharp and contorted in the blue light. He is terrified of falling.

“Come home.”

“Nathan...” you say, again. What are you thinking? And the sound of his name in your mouth causes a lump to rise in his throat. He hears your discombobulated breath on the other side of the line, and it is all too familiar. You were always charged, rubbing up against one another, causing static. He was always a storm; the one storm that could drive you away.

Come home.

“I wouldn’t even know how,” you insist, your voice paper thin, syllables soft and measured and sorry like raindrops drumming against a window pane.

You were always his release. If he was the energy and commotion and anger behind the storm -the severe, withholding clouds- you were its beauty and majesty and release. Together, you created life, and you destroyed each other.

Nathan hunkers over on the desk, leaning his head in his spare arm for some morsel of comfort, his guard up over his face.

“Just walk through the door tomorrow and stay,” he says tiredly, as if it’s simple.

He hears you sigh again, exasperatedly - the sound he induced all too often, when you were together.

“It didn’t work Nathan,” you say through your teeth, like lightning might spark through them at any moment. “How would this be any different?” Still, he can hear the tell-tale break in your voice. A gentle plea. God, could you really want to come back to him? If he could find the right answers to your questions?

“I’ll be different,” he promises, all the muscles in his face pulled taut. His face and his body aching with the tension of the sky splitting open, creation or destruction imminent.

Fuck it. Fuck everything else. Enough of this. The measured conversations, the co-parenting, the negotiations. You are what he wants - his family back together; home.

True- love hadn’t come easily to him at first. He was an asshole, a misanthrope, a closed book. Sex came easily to him. Desire. Infatuation. Thoughts of you, bordering on obsession as they took over his busy mind. But love? That too came, in the end. But love as a verb- the act of loving?

Nathan had sworn he didn’t want love at all, but then, there was you. He has sworn he had no desire for the legacy of a child, and yet, then there was the boy. For all his arrogance and grandiose dreams of the ways in which the whole world might remember him, he was finally ready to admit that all he wanted was to be remembered by you as a good husband, and by the boy as a good father.

He had never wanted to create another thing that hated him.

It didn’t come naturally to him at first. He was withholding, stubborn, rigid, and self-involved. Still, when he was motivated, there were other, finer qualities Nathan possessed too. Dedication, focus, discipline. When he was motivated, he possessed those in abundance. Turns out, love is one hell of a motivator.

Turns out, sometimes it is still not enough.

“I’m doing better,” he offers as he is met with silence, clenching his fist in discomfort as he hears you sniffing intermittently through the phone.

“I know,” you enthuse, your voice almost sickly with sincerity. “I know. I’m proud of you, Nathan.”

But Nathan doesn’t want your platitudes.

“Baby, please. I love you,” he pleads, and even in his plea his voice is stern. He refuses to let it crack. He states his truth as a cold, hard fact. He loves you. It’s undeniable. It’s logical, that you should be together.

“You know…. You know that I love you too.” you say, your voice small and full of holes. A sigh billowing out of you. “Shit, Nathan…” You sniff on the other end of the line with greater frequency – definitely crying. Nathan knits his brows together, his eyes brimming with tears that he fights back.

He thinks of all the times you cried and he didn’t reach out to you. He would give anything now to wipe your tears away.

“Come home, then,” he pleads, bluntly, swirling with hurt like silt stirred up by the rains. It hurts. It hurts to feel things. “Fuck, why are you so fucking stubborn?”

You huff out air as he snaps and instantly, he knows he’s fucked it. He wishes he could retract the words but it’s too late. They’ve already become breath. Already thunder, splitting his sky in two all over again.

He throws himself back in his chair in defeat, his hand rasping over his buzzed head in some unconscious attempt to comfort himself. “Shit, look, I just-”

When your voice interrupts him, it is perfectly smoothed out. Cold. Withholding.

So that’s how it feels.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nathan.”

There is a beat, and you soften. You always soften. “I’ll come get him later so you can have some extra time, okay?”

Nathan sighs loudly, catching a glance of his calendar on the illuminated screen.

“Fuck. I have a meeting at 11am- I thought you would collect him early so I booked a board thing-” he says tiredly.

“Fine,” you bite off.

“No. Wait, I’ll rearrange,” he backtracks. “Let me have more time,” he reasons, his voice softening. He tips up the photo frame – that blessed and cursed item- and brings it to rest on his thigh, torturing himself with your smiling face. “Please. I need more time.”

You are silent for a moment, and this time when your voice comes back, it is level, but infused with intentional warmth. He hates that tone. That tone where he knows you are placating him rather than speaking your mind, just so he doesn’t do anything stupid. He hates that it must feel like you have a guillotine hanging over your head at all times, because you feel like you can’t push him over the edge.

“Fine. Get some sleep, Nathan, okay?”

He huffs out air, a sharp, self-pitying guffaw, and he rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, the frames lifting from the bridge of his nose. “Right. I can’t even fuckin’ sleep without you.”

There is another pattern of breaths, and whatever tightrope Nathan might have tried to walk across to reach you snaps. “Don’t do that, don’t guilt me, Nathan.”

The worst thing is, you don’t even sound angry. You just sound… tired.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, muffled through a hand over his beard, and though this time he means it, the words come out sounding entirely insincere.

“Sure. ‘Night. Try and get some rest, okay?”

Now that -that sounded genuine. Sincere. You never stopped looking out for him. Even if you couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.

“Yep,” he says tautly, with little feeling, and he hangs up, tightening his grip on the photo frame in his lap before slamming it back down on the desk along with his phone.

He leans back in his chair for a moment and buries his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

I pushed her away. I did that. I pushed her away.

With a knot building in his chest, partly out of need and partly out of habit, Nathan drags opens the desk drawer where an ever-replenishing stash of vodka used to reside. Where instead, he has taped a picture drawn by his son. For moments like this.

It helps, but it’s not always enough.

Nathan knits his brows together, his face set with a stony resolve, and his dark, turbulent eyes awash with a storm of emotion.

The boy. He’s braver than me.

Somehow, because he has to, perhaps- because he’s had to learn how, Nathan smooths himself. He cannot solve the problem of how to bring you home, when this simply isn’t home to you anymore. So, instead, he bathes himself in blue light. He basks in the glow of algorithms he can solve, and works and works his mind until it shuts off. Feeling to thinking to nothing.

I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

He can do anything he sets his mind to.

And… fuck. I pushed her away.

Anything, perhaps, except bring you back.

***

The next day, you arrive to collect your son.

It is familiar by now. It is an encounter that Nathan both longs for and dreads, in equal measure. Today, especially so; especially both.

Byron runs down the hallway and leaps into your arms, the sound of your laughter scooping Nathan out from the inside as you pepper the boy with kisses, a toothy smile on his angel face.

In these encounters, the moments are always too fleeting; always slipping away too quickly. It seems to happen so fast that it’s a blur to him, his mind zoning-out and working through a million things he wants to tell you, and simultaneously hyper-focussed on every single aspect of you he’s missed desperately. He wracks his brain for the right things to do and say, as if desperately searching for the one remnant of code- the one function or command that will simply make you stay.

With effort, he tunes back in to the scene as the boy wraps his arms around his leg.

“Did you pack Crunchy?” you ask Nathan, as he hands over the kid’s weekend bag to your waiting, outstretched arm.

His mouth opens to respond, but you are already unzipping it and rooting through the bag, checking in amongst the clothes and tiny boxing gloves and dolls for the dear mutt. You find him nestled in there safely, and you smile softly at Nathan for remembering.

You shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks. He remembers things – he remembers everything. It’s forgetting he typically needs a little more assistance with. Maybe he does look over his shoulder more than he’d care to admit.

You ruffle the boy’s crow black curls as he clings to his father’s leg, snapping your hand back as if you’ve been burned when Nathan opts for the same gesture in the same moment.

You opt to fold your arms against your chest instead, casually clearing your throat. “What did you do with Daddy then, baby? Have you had a good time?”

“We watched the storm,” the boy begins animatedly, swinging around Nathan’s sturdy leg, “and we did boxing and I learned a new combo,” the boy looks up at his father who nods and smiles gently in proud confirmation, hoisting the kid up on to his hip – a gesture that is becoming increasingly less rusty- “and we did a new trail to the glacier, and, um, what else Daddy?” Byron asks, waving his up-turned palms in the air and turning to his father for guidance. Nathan dips forward to whisper a prompt in his ear. “Oh yeah! And we watched Trolls and I put lots of my dolly’s bows in daddy’s beard,” the boys giggles, and scrunches his fingers through Nathan’s wiry hairs.

The kid’s smile is infectious, even fracturing Nathan’s stony resolve, and it has the three of you joined in a smile for a moment, until Nathan sees your eyes mist subtly over with tears as you observe the father and son together. You quickly quell them, but they don’t go unnoticed.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, voice expertly smoothed, and a masking smile on your face. The strength of you. “Did he look pretty?”

“Yeah, I guess he looked pretty,” the boy giggles. “And this morning Daddy taught me about static electric.... um-” the boys stumbles over his words for a second, and again looks to Nathan for guidance.

“You got it -go ahead,” Nathan encourages firmly.

The boy gains confidence, brushing his black curls out of his face with a little hand before continuing. “Static electricity, right?”

“Right, champ,” Nathan says, and as the boy barrels happily through his recital of events, Nathan barely realises that he’s holding him a little tighter, because with each moment that passes, so fleetingly, he feels it’s getting increasingly harder to think about letting him go.

“And Mommy, did you know this whole valley was made by a glacier that crawled all the way along and carved out all the shapes of the hills and then melted, like, a super long time ago?”

“You know, I did know that, but that’s smart of you to know too, baby,” you say fondly, a tremble at the corner of your lips that the kid doesn’t see, but Nathan is sharp enough to catch.

And then, suddenly, Nathan has no trouble contemplating passing the boy over into your arms, because you look like you need someone to hold too. However, as he motions to do so, Nathan can see tears threatening to spill out of the corner of your eyes. You shake your head subtly at Nathan in apology as you brush away a stray tear, in a moment you hope the boy won’t see, so, instead, Nathan sets your son down on the ground. He crouches and pulls the boy’s shoulders squarely to face him, providing you with a discreet moment to compose yourself.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly. “I remembered I need to talk to your Mommy about boring grown-up stuff. Gas prices and 401ks and… major yawn. So, hot tip, you might wanna go and play in your room for 5. That okay, champ?”

“Okay,” the kid says, unphased, and skips off down the hall.

That leaves Nathan and you in the hallway. He hover-hands his palm against your lower back and gestures, with his other arm, towards the living space, guiding you towards the seating area.

You sit on opposite sofas, positions stiff and formal, hands clasped on laps. Your gaze looking just past Nathan because you can’t seem to meet his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks gently, feeling a lump grow in his throat. He hates this- how tense it is, when you used to be so intimate and relaxed around each other. “Why are you crying?”

Unlike Nathan, you were usually an open book, yet this time, you decline the invitation to share. You pinch your lips in between your teeth.

You’re so strong, and so brave that it breaks Nathan to see you succumb to tears like this. Plus, you’ve given so much already- so much love, and so much heart, and he hasn’t given you nearly enough back.

Still, he looks at you from beneath his lenses, gently encouraging, waiting until you are ready to share. Your gaze fixes on a spot in your lap. “I… It’s just. Seeing you and Byron together. Why in the hell couldn’t you have been this man while we were together, Nathan?”

Nathan’s heart aches at your words. Years ago, even months ago, he would have bristled. He would have snapped back at the insinuation that he was ever in the wrong. Ever less than godly.

This time though, he lets the sad truth settle over him like a dark cloud. And, as much as he wants to pull you towards him, he also- and he can’t believe he’s going to do this- he realises he needs to push you away from him one more time. There is only one way to solve this. To let you go. To realise it’s your choice. You are out of his control. Unsolvable.

He shifts his position, until he is perched on the coffee table in front of you, his palms resting on your knees and smoothing circles there. His dark, calculating eyes intent on yours, and for once unobscured by agendas. For once, he has things to say to you that aren’t intended to provoke a particular response, or establish a particular gain. He has things to say that he simply needs you to hear.

He needs to show you his fear. He needs to face the storm he was never too afraid to create, but was always quick to flee the wake of. Nathan imagines if he explains the storm, he can demystify it. Take its power away. Then, even if you don’t come home, at least there can be calm. Calm after the storm. Both of you able to move on, with all the cards laid out on the table.

With effort, he begins.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan says gently, and even with those two words a gentle sob wracks your chest, perhaps with the relief of a weight you didn’t know you were carrying. “Honestly, I don’t think I told you that and meant it yet. So, I’m sorry. About last night, by the way. But, shit, about everything that I did, and didn’t do…” Your hands come to clasp his in your lap, fingers gripping fingers tightly as his face contorts with regret. His dark eyes wander over your face as tears stream freely down your cheeks. Where once he would have shied away from you, in a state like this, now he has courage enough to be present.

“I missed you,” he continues, his voice tattered by emotion. “I miss you. I didn’t want to tell you that. Didn’t want to admit that I’m scared either. But I am. Of losing you. Scared that the best thing for us… the best thing for you, might be being without me. To get out of the black hole I suck everything in to.” Nathan tears his eyes away from yours as his vision becomes blurry with tears, his voice cracking. “I’m scared because I love you, and I love that fucking kid and I... I’m scared that I might get better, and be better… but that you, and him… that you still might deserve better. Better than me. So, I’m sorry. Actually fuckin’ sorry, for all the ways I’ve been a dick. Shut you out. Put you last. Made you hurt.”

“Nathan,” you breathe through tears, as if you can’t fathom this onslaught- this emotion tearing your chest in two, like the sky on that night.

He reaches up to fumble some tears away from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I need you to know that I finally see it, even if it is too late,” Nathan nods to himself, eyes fixed down at your hands clasped in his. “I see that if had to lose you to realise what I had; I never did deserve you. You’re so… fuckin’ unreal. And he’s just like you. And,” Nathan presses on, despite the mortifying ordeal of baring his heart to you. Despite the tears which finally spike out of the corners of his eyes too. “I need you to know. Even if it didn’t last forever… This fuckin’ family? It will always be the best thing I ever created. And if there’s one thing I want to be remembered for- any fuckin’ legacy I wanna have, I just… I need it to be known that I love you, and I love that fuckin’ kid. I want you to be happy, and I’ll always regret that I didn’t make you happy while I had the chance to.” He huffs out another small, self-pitying laugh “Guess in the end, I’m an idiot; not a genius. Guess I should have realised that when I got stabbed by my own AI…”

He drags his big brown eyes back up to meet yours from beneath his lenses, and your eyes are shining softly at him, brimming with bittersweet pain, and you tug him into you for a hug, holding him close and your tears wetting each other’s shoulder.

After a moment he pulls away and settles himself back on the edge of the coffee table, already missing your embrace.

“You did. You made me happy, Nathan,” you promise. “So, so happy, and so, so miserable,” you let out a small, self-pitying laugh too, and then suddenly you are both laughing, as bizarre at that seems, as you palm the tears away from your puffed cheeks.

When the laughter fades, you reach out and place your palm fondly on the side of his face. Nathan knew that even in all his years of marriage, he had never been so vulnerable with you as he had been just now. He knew that had been precisely part of the problem. He had thought it would feel horrible to open up, but he finds that he feels fresh, like ground after nourishing rain.

Your gaze flicks back to him, and he swears he can read the look in your eyes.

Why couldn’t I have been this man when we were together?

Then, it is as if you remember you are touching him. You snap your hand back from him, and back from the brink as if you have been burned. It would be so easy, Nathan thinks. So easy to just fall back into you. As if wrestling with the exact same thought, you surge up from your seat, wiping the remainder of your tears away and immediately putting some distance between the two of you. You track to the nearby mirror, leaning forward to fix your appearance a little, before the boy returns.

Nathan watches you fondly. Longingly.

You turn back to him again, a little more composed, and retake your seat opposite him – in the same spot, but feeling much further away this time.

You bite your lips between your teeth, gazing at that same spot on your lap again.

He wishes he could reach out to you. Take in the textures and scents and feel of you in all your glory. But he does not want you to jump away as if you’ve been struck by lightning.

“I miss you too, you know? I miss our family. When it was good it was…” your voice is small and you trail off, perhaps not wanting to look too far over your shoulder. With a visible effort, you seem to drag yourself back to the present. “Byron adores you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve told you this since we… but you’re a good father, Nathan.”

A pride ignites in Nathan unlike anything he’s felt before.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, and instantly closes it again, his throat bobbing around a hard swallow before he can push his words out.

“Just a terrible husband?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, with a wistful expression on your face, and Nathan is surprised that you sound sincere. “No, not terrible at all.”

Nathan knew his flaws well enough, but you always reminded him of his attributes. You never poisoned the boy against him, even though the split was largely on him – a fact he had denied for a long time, because it was your decision. And, because of your strength and commitment to that, the three of you -oddly- had never made a better team than you do now.

He examines your face. Your beautiful face.

Come home. Please.

For your sake, he makes an effort to lift his thin smile up until it creases the corner of his eyes.

“I think you’re forgetting what an asshole I can be,” he smiles lopsidedly at you and succeeds in lightening the air. Lightening it a little too much. Enough that there is an alarming hint in your eyes of what used to be there for him. He hopes it is not the shining of false hope.

It would be so easy. So easy to kiss you.

You chew some words over in your mouth, and Nathan can see their failure to launch on a couple of breaths as you wring your hands in front of you.

“You, um. Last night… you asked me to come home.”

Nathan’s breath stalls in his chest.

“Did you mean it?”

Nathan can’t speak suddenly. He can only nod, slowly, tears sparkling in his eyes as he looks at you.

“I could… I could never just move back in. It didn’t work, Nathan. But… maybe…”

Nathan holds his breath, like a latent storm, the hint of a new energy buzzing in the space between you.

“Maybe,” you continue tentatively. “We could start over again. See if we can build something new. Not the same old patterns. No looking over our shoulders or trying to resurrect what’s long-dead. Instead, maybe we – I don’t know- try to create something… new?”

While the sky is rife with creation.

“You’re good at that. Building things,” you finish, fondly, everything about you tentative yet somehow hopeful, and Nathan’s chest constricts, his blood thrumming nervously through his body in a blind panic.

Just shut up, Nathan, and don’t fuck this. Just refrain from being a dick for five fuckin’ minutes.

The muscles in his jaw twitch. The vein on his forehead pops, yet his whole body is still. Breath bated.

“Like, fresh code?” he asks, with shining, hopeful eyes.

You nod, and it is the tiniest gesture, but one that means the absolute world to him.

A new way of doing things. Moving forward. Looking ahead.

“Sure, I guess - fresh code.”

Don’t fuck it up, Bateman, you fucking shithead.

“Yeah,” he agrees weakly, yet with all the conviction in the world. “How?”

Anything.

You nibble on your lower lip, thinking things through as you go. “Take me out for dinner. A first date. Somewhere away from this goddamn house. From everything that happened. All the… mistakes.” As Nathan’s eyes swim with guilt and regret, you squeeze his hand, dipping your head towards his to catch his gaze. “Yours and mine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” Nathan responds, his eyes glowing as they meet yours.

He immediately feels you withdraw from his burning hope, and so he consciously tries to reel his natural intensity in.

“No promises, Nathan,” you caution, firmly.

He nods, slowly. Outwardly disciplined and measured.

Don’t fuck it. Do not fuck this, you mother fucker.

“And please, don’t get his hopes up?” you say as a quick aside before delivering a broad smile over Nathan’s shoulder, signalling that the kid had arrived back in the vicinity.

The boy runs over and starts happily wheeling a toy news truck over Nathan’s thigh. The man unconsciously, automatically, winds his arm around his son and dips a kiss into his black curls, causing your eyes to shine softly in admiration. “I love you, champ,” Nathan says, the words heavy with the weight of his feeling even as he reaches to tickle the boy’s tummy, earning a chaotic giggle.

“Love you too, Daddy,” the boy replies, but Nathan pats him gently on the back.

“Time to go though, bud.”

“Yeah, baby. We should… go,” you announce, and yet there is a tug of hesitation in your voice. A rope binding you to Nathan which he is desperate to reel in; however, he pushed you so far away, and he knows that if you do come back to him, it must be on your terms. In your own time. He understands now.

Nathan leads the two of you to the door and helps pile all of the bags into the trunk of your truck. You strap Byron into his car seat, and Nathan dips to bid him farewell. “Ok, get out of here, kid. Look after your Mommy, you hear me? She’s special.”

There is a moment, before you open the door to slot into the driver’s side that Nathan comes to face you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, a familiar furrow in his brow and tight-lipped expression on his stony, impassive face. “When was the last time you had your tyres checked?” he wonders idly, shifting forward to poke at the tread on the front wheel and finding them satisfactorily safe.

He is surprised to find you smiling softly at him when he looks back at you. You seem like you can’t help yourself, but you lean forward and press a kiss into Nathan’s cheek, your face lingering against his as he closes his eyes and leans in to it, just a little.

You pull back from him, your hand clasped around his upper arm. “We love you, Nathan. Will you be okay?”

His eyes grow overcast. “Uh, don’t like it when you go,” he states plainly, his brow pulled down and cloaking his big, brown eyes with shadow.

You nod in understanding.

“Text me later. About dinner,” you add casually before you slot yourself into the truck. Still, he can see you tearing up, just a little.

“You mean it?” he asks, his stare intense.

“Dinner and we’ll see, okay? No promises.”

He had made you so many promises that were broken.

Nathan nods his agreement and you clasp the door shut. Reluctantly, Nathan steps aside as you swing the truck around, and he doesn’t stick around to wave you off, aside from a quick hand in the air for the boy.

He doesn’t like it when you leave.

He knew he had pushed you away, and now, just maybe you would come back to him. He feels hopeful- ecstatic even- at the prospect, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty. A little selfish too. He feels as though he’s sucking you in to a black hole all over again. He thinks maybe it would be better for you if you could escape him.

But, as Nathan settles back in his chair down in the lab, and gazes at the framed picture of his family, he knows that as much as he has grown and changed - because he’s had to, with you gone- that he will never quite be selfless enough to let you go.

I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

You had always revelled in storms. You were always happiest when it rained. Maybe this time, he could make you so, so happy, without the miserable.

Oh, how he hopes.

Don’t fuck it up, Bateman, he thinks, glancing at the picture one more time. Don’t you ever fuckin’ push her away.

This time, he pledges to stop looking over his shoulder, and looks ahead to something new.

That’s what he’s best at.

Fresh code.

He types away, and his chest feels lighter than it has in a long time.

The calm after the storm, perhaps.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina fanfiction #oscar isaac #nathan bateman angst

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purpletaecup · 5 years ago

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10 ☾ he said that’s how he still remembers me

warnings: explicit language (cursing), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of infidelity (not rlly but on thin ice)

notes: you guys... this is a long one and it’s kind of fast paced, but we are finally getting some answers and the drama really begins! next chapter will be emotional, that’s all I know. I’m sorry for putting you through all this angst!! also, I wanted to bring some attention to the crisis in the Philippines right now with all of the dangerous typhoons. A lot of people need donations and rescuing, so HERE is a link to a twitter thread of donation drives! Please make sure to check it out, share and help spread awareness!

as always, come talk to me in my ask box! and if you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, or reply to this post or the masterlist!

not edited!! sorry if there are any mistakes lmfao i usually am sleep deprived when i write so yeah, there are probably some errors.

word count: 5,614

☾

The days following Jungkook’s visit were dull, if anything. You’ve received texts from Yoongi saying that he couldn’t come visit until that weekend because he had to finish wrapping things up in advance at the company so that he could spend some time with you. You had argued over the phone like teenagers when you insisted that he didn’t need to do that and you could take care of yourself until Jin came back. Of course, that led to him ranting about what the doctor said about monitoring you and your symptoms for concussion and to get him to just shut up about the medical stuff (it made your brain hurt more than it did usually), you reluctantly agreed to his ‘visits’, as you’d rather call them.

[nov. 20, 2020]

It was Friday now and you still haven’t gotten any glimpse of actual memories back, although you have been having these strange dreams that you couldn’t really remember when you woke up. You could only describe the feeling it gave you as ‘sinking’, like you were drowning and you couldn’t escape. As much as possible, you tried not to think about these feelings, and focused more on trying to get to know the version of you who lived in this amazing apartment.

The past couple of days that you spent at this apartment put you in awe. It really was the apartment of your dreams, from the color of the furniture down to the little plants stuck in the corner of that tiny shelf in the kitchen. It was beautiful and so you. The only problem was that you couldn’t find anything to help with your current situation. You scoured every nook and cranny and couldn’t find anything dated after your wedding reception. No pictures, no post-its, notes or anything past that date. What you had found in your apartment, you already knew of (aside from the wedding photos). Past photoshoots, high school photos, a notebook full of movie ticket stubs. There was absolutely nothing in this apartment that gave you a clue to the life you lived during the four year gap in your memory.

You even tried to get into your twitter and instagram from when you were nineteen but you couldn’t log in. Wrong password every single time. When you tried to change your password for social media, the email you used had a different password too. You couldn’t figure out what you could have changed your password to. Every password combination you could think of, you tried, but none worked, so you decided to just skip that and maybe go over it later on. Or make a new one. That could work, too.

You couldn’t even look at your twitter account because for some reason, it was private and that seemed strange for someone with almost 130,000 followers. You could see your instagram account from your browser, but it wouldn’t let you see the pictures and posts in full size with the captions and comments, so you were really stuck.

A quick internet search of your name yielded things you already knew. Former model, current writer (that fact was still surprising to you). Old news articles of dating scandals that weren’t true, except for the one with Yoongi. More news articles about your divorce with no further information than what Yoongi had told you already.

It’s as if any clue about your life during your memory loss is unaccounted for. It seemed like at this point, you could only rely on other people telling you about your life and pray to whatever higher power there was to give you your memories back.

This futile search was beginning to make your stomach churn. You almost couldn’t suppress the bile rising up in your throat. Hopefully Jin would return soon. Maybe he could put all of the pieces back together for you.

☾

Jungkook sat in on the uncomfortable leather couch in Yoongi’s office as he waited for the man to finish up whatever he was typing. He looked through his instagram feed and saw one of your posts from July. For a while, he was confused as to why this picture from July would end up on his feed, but he remembered the new instagram algorithm. Curious, he clicked on your profile and looked through it slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to your posts.

“I forgot to ask but what did you and Yn do at her apartment? She said you stayed over for a couple of hours.” Yoongi asked though his eyes never strayed from his paperwork.

Jungkook looked up at him and pondered on what to say.

“Hm, yeah. I got roped into staying. She asked a bunch of questions and we looked through her apartment and her photo albums. Her apartment’s cute, by the way. Way different from what your house looked like.” He comments.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was bright. Lots of green. Nothing I’ve ever seen in the house you guys shared.”

“How was she when you picked her up? She told me a couple of things but I haven’t seen her yet so I can’t know if what she’s telling is the truth or not.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of turning pages filling the room, as Jungkook wondered what to say to this. He didn’t really know when to start with you, especially with how different you were acting.

“Well, she’s fine. The personality is definitely different. She seems a lot more outgoing, and she had a lot of questions but she didn’t push. I think she wants to try and figure things out on her own.” Jungkook replies as he continued to slowly look through your previous instagram posts.

“She’s been like that. She hates being a burden and gets really defensive about it sometimes.” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook pauses at your most recent post. He checks the date. September 22.

“When did you guys divorce again?” He asked.

At this, Yoongi looked up.

“The divorce was finalized on September 29, I think.” He answered, but looked questioningly at Jungkook as if to ask why.

“Did you know she was going to therapy?” Jungkook asked again.

Hearing this, Yoongi stood up abruptly and hurried over to where Jungkook was sitting.

“What? Where did you see that?” Yoongi asked as he looked over Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook showed him the post. Yoongi took the phone from him and examined the post carefully.

It was a picture of clouds with text on it. Is this the life we really want? The caption read “as per the advice of my therapist, i’m just here to pop in and say that I’ll be going on a hiatus for a little bit”.

“What the fuck? I didn’t know this!” Yoongi yelled, evidently angry.

Jungkook looked at him confused. They were together for four years, how could he not know that you were at least going to therapy?

The same question was running through Yoongi’s head. He took a seat next to Jungkook to process this new information.

“Hyung, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Jungkook requested.

Yoongi could only nod.

“What was Yn like when you were together? Why did you marry her?” Those were the first questions that came out of Jungkook’s mouth.

He was truly, genuinely curious. Though he’s heard some things that Yoongi had said about you, he never knew the full story.

“We married each other because we loved each other. Wasn’t that obvious?” Yoongi retorted.

Jungkook pursed his lips at this. “Well that's what you tell everybody and yeah we get it, but considering the fact that I’ve barely seen you two together more than two handful of times in the past two years, I had to ask.”

“That’s because we were both busy, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spend time together. Of course you never saw it because you weren’t there and I’m not one to actively talk about my love life. Yn and I both liked our privacy.”

“Okay, then what was she like when you were together?”

Yoongi was quiet for a while. There were a lot of things he could say about you when you were together. He just didn’t know how to articulate it to Jungkook.

“When we were together… she was charismatic, beautiful and intelligent. Something about the way she communicated made you feel like you could forget about all of your worries and live life to its extent with her. She constantly dragged me out to picnics and made me forget about the business and my career. She made me feel young again. And she had so much love and care for people around her. For a long time, I felt like I would never be deserving of her. She was kind of like a sunflower. Or sunshine, you know what I mean?” Yoongi poured out.

Jungkook nodded. He realized that this was the time to try to figure out what happened to you in your marriage. From his conversation with you at your apartment, to the description of you that Yoongi had just given, he surmised that the version of you that he knew was someone different and he could only wonder if Yoongi saw it too.

“Did you ever feel like she changed? In the time you guys were together?” He probed.

Yoongi thought about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I always found it strange that she decided to quit modelling. When I met her, she said it was all she ever wanted. I never asked because it seemed like a sensitive topic to her, but I supported her regardless. Writing seemed so out of nowhere for her. I don’t know where it came from. Then she stopped wanting to go to business dinners and events with me and after that we just drifted. And in between that, you introduced me to Yura.”

When Yoongi mentioned Yura, Jungkook winced. He had thought about it some nights ago, but he realized that he might have had a hand in your divorce by introducing Yura to Yoongi. Though he knows Yoongi would have never physically cheated on you, he could see how Yoongi and Yura gravitated towards each other. Jungkook had to admit that Yura was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and when she smiled it was like sunshine.

Yoongi interrupted his train of thought. “Yura is kind of a complicated subject to our marriage. I would never, ever cheat on someone I loved. And I loved Yn, so much. When you introduced Yura to me, I was happy to meet a new friend and that’s all I saw, but the more you made me hang out with you guys, the more I started to see something in her that I stopped seeing in Yn. I never meant to have any sort of romantic feelings for Yura, but it happened and I feel so fucking shitty for doing that to Yn when I’m the one who promised her a lifetime together.”

Jungkook straightened his posture as Yoongi’s confession.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“By what?” Yoongi looked at him confused.

“What happened to Yn that pushed you to Yura?”

At this, Yoongi scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t say that it pushed me to Yura, but remember when I said Yn and I started getting distant? As time went on, I felt like she changed and I didn’t know who she was. She used to be so bubbly and happy and always wanting to go look at flowers, but towards the end of our marriage, she stayed holed up in our room no matter how much I asked her to spend time with me. Yura, she was happy to spend time with me. She made me feel like I could forget about everything just by talking to me.”

“Yura made you feel like how Yn used to make you feel?” Jungkook cut him off.

“Well… I guess so.”

Jungkook thought about this for a while but narrowed his eyes at his hyung.

“Hyung, answer this truthfully; do you love Yura?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red after hearing this.

“Love? I don’t know. I like her? I like the way she makes me feel. She’s beautiful and smart and she makes me happy.”

“Hyung, I don’t know if you realize this, but the way you described Yura is exactly the same way you described Yn.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you started liking Yura because she reminded you of Yn when you met her. So, do you really, truly like Yura? Or do you just like her because she reminds you of what you don’t have anymore?”

Yoongi lowered his head.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought of it like that.”

Jungkook put his hand on Yoongi’s back to comfort him. Obviously, the man was confused.

“I don’t know if this helps, but I just wanted to let you know that whenever I saw Yn, during those dinners or events, she never gave off the vibe that you described her to be. To me, she was quiet, reserved and never bothered trying to get to know us, your friends, or your business. That’s what she came off as. When you told us that you loved each other and that you eloped, I thought you were joking. When I saw her, she just seemed like the typical trophy wife. Just for show. I never liked her and wondered what you saw in her all the fucking time, but now after hearing this, and after being with her for a couple of hours, it’s obvious that something happened that fucked her up and then fucked your marriage up.” Jungkook ranted.

“I think you might need to reevaluate the relationship you had with Yn so we could help her recover from this whole amnesia thing and hopefully figure out what happened. Something definitely happened, but since I don’t know your marriage like you do, I don't know what it is. I feel guilty now after realizing that I might have had a hand in whatever the fuck she was going through. And maybe figure out what you’re going to do about Yura. Can you keep dating her when your feelings for her are based off of your feelings for your ex-wife, who is currently pregnant with your wife and doesn’t know about it?” He continued.

Yoongi took a deep breath, taking all of this conversation in.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost done with the shit here at the company. When I go home, I’ll sort everything out and talk to Yn and Yura tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep seeing Yura with the current situation. I have to tell Yn about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but I’m scared because the doctor told me to monitor for residual symptoms for her concussion. I don’t even know where to begin with the situation.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here for you. You have to tell her about the pregnancy before she finds out herself. In the meantime, I’ll help you out when you can’t take care of her. I already feel shitty enough for how I acted with her when you two were married. I feel like I had the wrong impression this whole time.” Jungkook offered.

Yoongi remembered the moment earlier when Jungkook confessed that he never liked you and that baffled him because he thought that you two, of all people, would get along well together. More often than not, he would feel jealous of Jungkook, who had your admiration when you first started dating. He remembered you always asking him to introduce you to Jungkook and it took a year for him to budge and actually make it happen.

“I’m sure you’ll get along now. I always thought you did get along. Did you know she liked you before?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t know until the other day when you had me take her home. It probably would have helped if you told me she knew who I was before you introduced us after you got together. She never acted like she was a fan of my music and admittedly, I was a dick to her.”

Yoongi glared at him. It was a first for him to hear about how Jungkook treated his ex-wife.

“Well, you should feel shitty because she really liked you and your music. For a while, I thought she liked you more than me. If I had known you were an asshole to her, I probably would have ripped you a new one. Hearing you admit you treated her like shit makes me feel like shit because I never knew and just assumed you guys were good with each other. You didn’t do or say anything bad to her, right? You’re not that type of person.”

Jungkook could only pretend to smile at Yoongi as he asked this.

He shook his head and lied. “No, never.”

Lying through his teeth to his best friend about how he treated you made his heart fall to his stomach. Well, Yoongi didn’t have to know because it was in the past. You couldn’t remember any of the mean things he’d said to you, so now was the perfect time to make a new, much better impression of himself to you. He decided days ago that he would be better, because deep down, he knew that you didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you.

[nov. 21, 2020]

Yoongi had taken the day off after his somewhat enlightening conversation with Jungkook last night. He decided that he needed to go see you and spend some time with you today, but before that, he needed to settle things with Yura.

They decided to meet up at his apartment for maximum privacy, just in case anything happened. He wanted to account for the worst case scenario of Yura probably getting angry and throwing things around, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to do dramatic things like that.

Turns out, she’s not. When he reluctantly tells her that he can’t continue on with what they had because of residual feelings for you, in addition to the fact that there were complications in that relationship that he can’t speak about carelessly, she had reacted calmly and amicably. Though Yoongi hadn’t expected her to throw a tantrum, he was expecting some kind of anger, but all he got was a sad look passing on her face followed by comforting words.

He apologized profusely for having dragged her around when he still had apparent feelings for his ex-wife and not figuring out his feelings for her, or lack thereof, sooner. She reassured him that it was okay and she’ll be fine.

“I’ll be fine Yoongi. I liked you, but it’s pretty obvious that you used me as some kind of rebound or replacement for your ex-wife, and I was okay with it. Truthfully, I was waiting for you to just come clean and break it off with me. I hope you and Yn figure things out this time, and I hope you can talk to her. Communication is important.” She reminds him before she leaves, but not before letting him know that she would always be there for him as a friend.

He had texted her after she left, and after a couple of minutes to himself, that he was thankful for her being so nice about the situation and all in all, he didn’t regret whatever short-lived affection they had for each other.

Yoongi still couldn’t believe how smoothly everything with Yura went. He hoped that the rest of the day would be the same.

☾

You woke up to a message from Jungkook asking if you were free, so you had to tidy up the apartment and yourself because you didn’t want to look messy in front of someone you had idolized for a long time.

Luckily enough, you didn’t have to cook since Jungkook offered to bring food. You thank your lucky stars for that because for some reason, you’ve been feeling incredibly sluggish and nauseous. It was probably some symptoms of the concussion you suffered. You remembered your doctor saying something about that the last time you were at the hospital.

About 20 minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring so practically skip to the door, excited to see Jungkook and steal the food that he brought.

You opened the door to see Jungkook standing there with a big back of food in his hands. He was wearing all black, with a leather jacket that looked a tad too big on him.

“You look warm.” You comment.

He rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna invite me in or not? I even brought you food.”

You laugh a little and move to the side to give him room to step inside the apartment.

“So, what have you been doing?” He asks as he makes his way to your dining room to put the food down.

You make your way to the kitchen to get some plates for the both of you.

“Nothing. I’ve been trying to look for some stuff but I don’t know where to start so I just gave up until you or Yoongi could come help.” You reply as you move to the dining room to set the plates down.

Jungkook takes the food out and puts some on the plates. Kimbap, like you asked, and some seaweed soup.

“How have you been feeling? Okay?” He questioned.

You nodded, though hesitantly.

“Eh, I’ve been feeling kind of tired. I think I might be sick because I keep wanting to vomit. Is that my wintermelon tea, by the way?” You pointed to the drink in his hand.

Jungkook poked the straw through the lid and handed it to you.

“Sick? Did you take any medicine? Are you feeling better now?”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed, missing the sweet taste of the drink. It felt nostalgic.

“Mhm, took some earlier and I'm feeling much better thanks to the food you brought!” You smiled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes jokingly once again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t think about your illness any further. It was probably a cold and nothing else.

For about 20 minutes, the two of you ate and spoke about little things, mostly about Jungkook and his career. It helped you get to know him a little bit better since he’s the only person besides Yoongi who could help you in your situation until Jin comes back.

After you finished eating, you told him that you needed his help going through your room in case there was anything that could jog your memory.

“I would ask Yoongi but he’s been busy lately.”

“So I’m just your last resort?”

“You’re literally the only other person in my contact list besides Yoongi and Jin.”

“Right, anyways, lead the way!” He exclaimed.

You laughed as you led him to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I didn’t have that much time to clean up before you got here!” You explained.

Jungkook shook his head, telling you it didn’t really matter since it was gonna be a mess anyways while you two went through your things.

☾

When Jungkook walked into your room, he was once again hit with the feeling that he had no fucking clue who you were in the past years he’d known you. If he could describe your room in one word, it would be enchanting. White walls, white sheets adorn with a baby blue blanket, wooden floors, giant plants and a mirror much bigger than himself. Your desk was filled with different kinds of pens, different notebooks that look to have been trifled through, and an unnatural amount of books and crystals.

From the looks of the rest of your house, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at your bedroom, but it’s still a bit difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that you were this type of person. Bright, intelligent, and incredibly neat.

He walked up to your desk and picked up the different notebooks laid out messily on the table. When he opened each of them, he noticed that they were mostly blank, with the exception of a few doodles. There were some things he’d recognized as lyrics from songs he knew, but nothing truly relevant to the memories you lost.

You stood next to Jungkook and looked at the notebooks in his hands.

“I went through those already. Nothing but a few sad lyrics here and there. None of them triggered any memories.” You mentioned.

Jungkook put them down and started walking around the room with you as you talked about what you did find during the days that you were left alone. What he got from that conversation was that you had no luck with anything and that’s why you waited until either he or Yoongi could come over and help you. Jungkook knew that Yoongi was coming over later, so if he couldn’t help you find anything or answer any of your questions today, then maybe Yoongi could.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that I can’t even access any of my social media, so do you think I can look through my instagram through your phone? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I know some people feel uncomfortable giving their phone to someone else to play around with.” You asked.

Jungkook shook his head and stuck his hand in his pant pocket, reaching for his phone.

“It’s fine, you can look at your profile, I think I follow you. The password is 061313.” He stated as he handed his phone over to you.

You grabbed it excitedly, finally getting the chance to see what your life was like during the four years that were missing from your memory. You fell back onto your bed as you unlocked Jungkook’s phone and clicked on his instagram app quickly.

You took a look at his profile first, staring in awe at the pictures he’s posted. Most of his pictures are very dark and he had quite a few selfies. You smiled a little bit as you admitted in your head that he was indeed handsome.

Okay, Yn, onto the more important things! You thought to yourself as you quickly searched your username ‘faeyn’ on the search bar. At first you were excited, but it deflated when you saw just how many posts you had. 13 posts. And almost all of them were just landscapes. Some had pictures of you by yourself, or with Jin, but that was it. How the fuck were you supposed to try to figure out your life through 13 pictures?

Scrolling through each picture and their captions from the oldest to newest, you quickly realized that you must have decided that privacy was something that should be valued. There was nothing of substance to your situation in the captions you’d written. Just casual mentions of how your day was, or what you did that day. The only thing that caught your eye was the latest post you had, dated September 22. It was a picture of clouds and the caption said something about your therapist advising you to take a break, so you were going to be on a social media cleanse for a while.

Well, at least you learned one thing. Apparently, you started going to therapy again. For what? You don’t know. You only remembered going to therapy a couple of times after the whole incident with your bastard ex-boyfriend.

You filed this little detail into your brain and hoped that maybe it would make more sense later on. Swiping up on Jungkook’s phone took you to his home screen, but you paused for a little. Maybe you could snoop through some more apps and see if there was anything else you can find.

No, that would be an invasion of Jungkook’s privacy, you thought. Another part of you argued that he wasn’t going to know and he’s here to help you. If there was anything worth hiding, he wouldn’t have given you his phone and his password so easily. And if there was anything, it wouldn’t be incriminating since he mentioned that you two didn’t really know each other that well, so you shrugged and clicked on his messages.

I’ll just see if there are any messages to me. I won’t look at anything else, you justified, as if it made it any better.

After scrolling for a little while, you finally saw something worthwhile. A text convo between you and Jungkook and from the preview of the message, it looks like it was from the middle of September. You opened it, excited to see the contents, but what you saw made you furrow your brows.

What is this?

☾

After Jungkook gave you his phone, he continued walking around your room until he got to the side of your bed that was next to the window. He looked around for a bit and saw something in the corner of his eyes. Crouching down lower, he saw something on the floor behind your headboard. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but as soon as he moved closer, he realized it was a thick notebook. Jungkook surmises that you probably hadn’t seen it despite telling him that you looked ‘everywhere’. He took the notebook and sat down on the floor, completely hiding his figure, but not before he could look at you. He wanted to see what was in the notebook before he showed it to you, and luckily enough, you had been facing away from him.

So he sat down and opened the notebook. From just the first page, he could tell it was some kind of diary or journal. There were lots of drawings and stickers and a picture of you in a field of flowers right in the middle of the first page. He flipped through the whole notebook really quickly and found that half of it was already filled.

A part of him wanted to read through the whole thing and see what kind of things you wrote, but another part told him that it wasn’t appropriate. Despite that, he convinced himself that he should read maybe just one entry, just to see if this notebook was something substantial to your current situation.

Jungkook took a peek at you again and noticed you still had your back turned to him so he took that as a sign that he could probably get away with reading an entry. He flipped to a page randomly and focused his eyes on the writing.

The entry was dated August 4, 2020. Fairly recent. He noticed that there were some dark blotches on the paper that made the ink bleed.

He began to read the entry, not knowing what he was going to find out.

It still seems weird to be writing about my problems in a journal. I’m still not used to it, but it’s been helpful since I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.

That made him frown.

I went to my OBGYN today because I’ve been having severe cramps and bleeding, but I already had my period so I was worried. And the cramps were starting to really hurt, so I had to go get it checked out just in case. Well, apparently I was pregnant and lost the baby.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Luckily enough, it wasn’t loud enough for you to notice. He clasped his hand over his mouth at the disbelief in reading this information. A miscarriage? And so recent, too. He didn’t know how to feel. Yoongi had never said anything about this.

Jin actually just left my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the news hit me until now. I texted Yoongi earlier to tell him but he was busy so I think that was a sign that I should probably not tell him. It’s not like it matters right? Since the baby was gone anyways.

I know my therapist told me to stop with the negative self-talk, but it’s moments like this that really push me to just keep thinking I’ll never be good enough for the men that I love. Thanks to my bastard ex for fucking my mind up like this. No matter how hard I try, I always just circle back to the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him, and that I’m not good enough for Yoongi. Even fate is telling me that I’m not good enough to carry a child with the man I love. How fucked up is that?

Jungkook’s heart dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. There were so many things going through his head right now. He felt like he was violating something that was so private. Yoongi didn’t even know that you went through this. You didn’t even know you went through this. He shut the journal quickly, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes.

At that exact moment, he heard your heavy breathing and quickly got up to check on you. He walked around to your side of the bed and found you trembling with his phone in your hands. He noticed that his messages were open and he began to panic.

“What the fuck is this?” was the last thing he heard you say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you fell limp into your bed.

← masterlist →

taglist: @victoriedulce @yoongistruth @rebeccawoodrow @moon-asia @koochiekoo @sonderkook @fangirling-gallifreyan @teresaisla @veronawrites @haeilove @rjsmochii @mama-m0chi @agustd-2020 @imluckybitches @dreamer95 @coldfreakeggsexpert @loveyoongles @selfproducingfanfictionauthor @mr-robot-x @alinerl @lunaarya @somewhereinthestarss @moonlitmyg @liriaus @coolpeanutskeletonpersona @scentedsope @seoul9711 @sbtzhoe @ggukkieland @mariand @deolly @fandomstogetherweunite @pairdeune @baekstans @mickmoon @iamnamjoonsbxtch @cloudbuffalo @kimmalik @laabellaavitaa21 @liveoffyou @vantedollz @1this1is1me1 @yulisaangelica @madnesstaking0ver @venxtaetae @pimpnameyannie @bobrouxsky @cheesecakes-randomshitz @ceoofjjksimping @minclangyyy @ysljoon @eilenebeniquez @laurynne5 @jalexad @yoongicap @hellotherehoneybee @thequeen-kat @haveumetbadeth @goldenkookietae @miss-jupiter @arcadechick @neverthefirstchoice @zxlummxxd

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jasmine-tea-latte · 4 years ago

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Since nobody asked for my input, here’s a lovely PSA for antis in general, because some of y’all need a reminder / a reality check.

(Excluding the folks who properly tag stuff as anti-__, of course, because that’s the whole point of that tag.)

Also, please note that I’m not saying don’t engage in debates ever or feel like you should be silent about subjects that matter to you. Create dialogue! Learn from other people! By all means, share your POV! Discuss the numerous other things you’re passionate about. Speak your mind.

Also, this is not in reference to critical thinking posts regarding fandom content or metas. This is about being an ass on a post that harms absolutely no one.

This post is strictly about how we consume media for entertainment (I.e. ship preferences) and how, if you’re constantly seeing posts pop up for something you hate yet you keep diving into the tags of said thing and feel compelled to comment on it, especially if it’s that stupid “No❤️” shit - congratulations, you’re playing yourself, and I’m about to show you why.

Also, the point of this post is not to be holier than thou or overtly preachy. I posted plenty of obnoxious stuff on fandom forums back in the day, so learn from my mistakes, okay?

Here’s something you need to understand right here, right now:

You are responsible for cultivating your own internet experience.

Don’t like seeing tons of posts about a show / ship / topic you dislike or have no interest in?

Don’t interact with it.

Just keep scrolling along.

I’m serious.

Let it go.

Devote your time and energy on things you do enjoy and let the fans of whatever it is that you hate enjoy that thing in peace.

Take for instance pecan pie. I hate pecan pie with a passion. Guess what I’m not going to do, though? Go over to a forum or group of people who like it and start screaming about how gross it is and how anyone who likes pecan pie is a terrible, horrible person.

Because why waste my time deliberately going somewhere that I don’t have to be and know I won’t like, picking fights and being an asshole in general?

But if it’s posted in a public forum it’s up for debate, I hear you complain.

Yeah, so?

What do you honestly think you’re going to accomplish by raining on someone else’s parade?

Seriously, I’m asking you, what do you really think is going to happen if you waltz up and start yelling at fans of something about how they’re stupid or awful for liking XYZ?

What’s it going to cost you to keep scrolling and find something that sparks joy instead of rage?

Answer:

If you’re lucky (that is, if you present a well-thought out and cohesive argument) then you might convince some people over to your side.

But realistically in the best case scenario, you’d have a civil debate where absolutely no one changes their mind.

If that’s what your goal was, congrats! You successfully shared your opinion without making yourself look like an asshole who has nothing better to do with their time than pick unnecessary fights and looking to stir shit up just because you’re bored.

But if you go up to a table of people chowing down on pecan pie and tell them that they’re stupid for liking it when cherry / chocolate / whatever pie flavor that floats your boat exists, guess what’s gonna happen?

You will get eyerolls and be considered a douche, but no one will give an actual fvck what you have to say.

I straight up insulted a group of fans for liking something I hated and I did so by going out of my way over to their corner of the fandom. AITA?

Yes, YTA (you’re the asshole) in this scenario.

There’s a post floating around out there explaining how you wouldn’t walk into an Italian restaurant and yell about how you don’t like the food and that you’d rather eat at the Chinese restaurant across the street.

Who in their right mind would do that? Nobody, that’s who, and that’s what you look like deliberately poking around a fandom you hate to cause discord.

Also pro tip: you’re ultimately shooting yourself in the foot when you do obnoxious things like that.

The more you interact with a certain topic or spend time posting about it online, the more you’ll see of it, because that’s how the algorithms work.

It doesn’t matter if you post “I love pecan pie!” or “pecan pie is the worst!”

All that algorithm picks up on is the keyword “pecan pie” so if you hate it? Guess what, you just served yourself another slice of crap and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.

A few years ago some people on Facebook got sick and tired of seeing Buzzfeed constantly post about KUWTK. Which I get, because idgaf about them, tbh - don’t hate them but don’t care, either. But someone decided to fill the comment sections of those posts with pet pictures as a protest of sorts to prove that literally anything else was more entertaining. Yeah that’ll show them!

Except that it didn’t matter that all of their comments were irrelevant. The algorithm just saw a bunch of traffic on the KUWTK posts, which in turn caused Buzzfeed to post about them even more. It turned into a cycle of self destruction by the commenters, because the more they posted pet pics, the more traffic they gave to the very posts they wanted to destroy.

Hence why I preached earlier about how I keep scrolling whenever I see a post for a ship or movie / show / other media for something I dislike. Because guess what happens? It goes away and I only see posts for things I dislike on rare occasions.

Also, the block / hide option is sitting right there, folks.

I just don’t understand the mindset of someone who spends all their time online complaining about a ship / show / media and actively seeks it out to further spread their discontent, then is Suprised Pikachu when the topic keeps showing up in their recommended lists.

Look, I’m ultimately here to have fun and interact with other fans of media that I enjoy. I’m not here to tell you what to do or how you should use your time. If going out of your way to antagonize fans of the thing you despise fills you with warm and fuzzies then don’t let me stop you if that’s how you actually choose to live your life. Some people just want to watch the world burn, so you do you, boo.

But the fact of the matter is that you can waste your time whining about how gross pecan pie is or you can choose to spend your time by promoting the kind of pie you do like, cultivating a much more pleasant experience for yourself, not to mention peace of mind.

You don’t win the pie war by hijacking posts and acting like a tool. You win it by creating content of your favorite pie until it outnumbers the kind you dislike.

Plus, if you put out more posts praising and promoting things you do like, it’ll help the algorithm suggest more content that you actually would enjoy.

Yeah but it’s my right to do that! I hear you argue just for the sake of being argumentative or because you genuinely enjoy the attention that it gets you. So I have to ask,

Why are you making yourself mad when you could make yourself glad instead?

Basically what I’m saying is that when it comes to spewing contrarion opinions in a forum for the sake of causing drama:

The world is a shitty enough place at times already, and fandom is meant to be fun.

Stop seeking out things you hate and then bitch about seeing them. Love yourself and take care of your mental health.

Don’t be that asshole.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

And now, I’m off to go find some delicious key lime pie and be thankful that it’s not pecan.

#I was in some kind of mood y’all #but seriously #don’t be an asshole #my stuff #not atla

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theda-rison · 4 years ago

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Thursday Night Link Roundup - 2/11/2021

So I was trying to think of something to present to you guys that was thematically appropriate for Black History Month; since I’ve been OBSESSED with Outer Worlds since I’m finally playing it, and that sort of seems out of place. I was hoping to find some black youtubers I could talk about, but…

Ugh. The algorithm.

Then I randomly had a nap today, and as I was falling asleep I was trying to think of something to talk about, and this old PBS incidental series (the things they played in between the shows instead of commercials) they would play during Black History Month popped into my head:

[THERE IS NO VIDEO]

I could NOT find it on youtube at all, but they were played mostly in the 90s and so I guess no one’s decided to look for it on a VHS tape anywhere and upload it.

Anyway, the thing that is seared into my mind is “...Josephine Baker invented the banana dance” (which, I had to look this up, was apparently 1926?) because I heard it so many times as a child. There were more clips than just the one about her, but it seemed like that was the only one they ever played, I don’t know why. I heard it constantly all February, and that was all I knew about her for the longest time.

Once, I saw a different one, and I was confused and almost enraged that it wasn’t the one I saw constantly. Emotions are confusing sometimes lol.

Anyway, after thinking of this randomly, I wondered if there was maybe a clip of her or a documentary or something and of course there was a bunch! I really enjoyed this one:

youtube

But this clip has one of her adopted kids speaking in it, so I think that’s pretty cool too:

youtube

In case the title didn’t tip you off, I was trying to find the “...Josephine Baker invented the banana dance” clip, lol.

But yeah, I don’t even know what to say about her life, she had so many different phases and had so many different incarnations to herself and just constantly reinvented herself. It’s sort of wild though that her trajectory went something like: comedy dancer in America, sexy dancer in France, wartime spy, pissed off at being in America, delighted at being back in France, adopting a dozen children, and then working until about the time she died.

I literally had no idea about any of that shit because (like some other famous women) I’ve only ever seen pictures of her young (in the 20s) and nothing else. But, that’s a lot of personal reinvention.

[Cher, Madonna, Lady Gaga, pick whichever], eat your heart out.

#Thursday Night Link Roundup #Black History Month #Josephine Baker #I have a new appreciation of her #but despite speaking fluent French-- she still sounded like an American speaking French #Her rendition of La Vie en Rose almost murdered me lol #I'm sorry Josie #But how did you not learn how to pronounce it? I don't get it

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years ago

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Hallow-Queen (Joe)

I wrote three Hallow themed one shots back in October for the Boh Rhap cast (There was supposed to be a fourth, but unfortunately some things came up, and I was unable to write it. Maybe this Halloween I’ll finally get it done!?)

Anyways, there is a fic for Joe, Ben and Gwil

First up will be everyone’s favourite Dino boi! Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

The monster mash filled the bathroom as you got ready for the evening, your poor spotify algorithm will be so confused after tonight. You go for months listening only to the hits of the 80’s, and then suddenly, monster mash, and the Addams family theme are on loop! That however did not stop you from grooving along to the song, moving your hips to the beat and bobbing your head. You could hear Joe downstairs, setting everything up for the party he had organised at the last minute. Joe had sent a group text to the BohRhap cast, demanding everyone be free for Halloween. This, of course had been met with a rather loud outcry. Rami and Lucy had already made plans, Gwil was travelling to Wales to see his brother, and Ben well, Ben was free and had accepted immediately. Up until two days ago, it had been planned for just you, Joe and Ben to have a quite night together, watching scary movies, and pigging out on pizza. That is, until Joe had received a message from Gwil, his brother had come down with the flu, and didn’t want to pass it on to him. Your party now consisted of four. Next came a message from Lucy, “Okay, this is crazy, I haven’t seen you in months! Tell Joe that Rami and I will be there this weekend! (Don’t mention anything to Rami please, I’ve still got to figure out how to tell him…)”

With six confirmed people, you had taken it upon yourself to invite a few extra people, work mates, old school friends, and the castmates of Joe’s current project. As far as Joe knew, there were only going to be four of you in attendance tonight, yet somehow the extra bags of crisps, candy, and drinks hadn’t clued him in on the fact that there would be a lot more people in your house tonight. The doorbell rang downstairs, and you pause your music listening out for Joe as he shuffles around the floor below. There’s the faint mumbling of voices, though they’re too quiet for you to pick up on who had arrived. Your phone ‘dings’ on the bathroom counter, and you turn your attention to it, a message from Ben illuminating the lock screen. “How long am I keeping Joe occupied for?”

You had a rather special surprise instore for Joe tonight, but to execute it properly, you needed Joe to give you some space for a little while. Ben had been more than willing to help out, offering to keep Joe away from you and the bathroom for as long as you required. “Just need 20 mins.” You send back just as the doorbell rings again. If you had planned everything correctly, everyone would arrive at roughly the same time, which meant Joe would be busy greeting all his unexpected guests. Turning back to face the mirror, you grin at your reflection, time for the piece de resistance! Carefully, you step into the legs of the suit you had chosen to wear, shimmying the material up to your hips. The suit is incredibly baggy on you, and it only becomes more noticeable as you shrug the outfit over your shoulders, but that was all about to change.

*****************

“What the hell is that noise?” Joe asks, turning his attention to Ben beside him, who paused as he went to open a beer. A loud ‘whirring’ noise seemed to echo around the entire apartment, Ben had a suspicion as to who the cause of the noise was, but had promised not to say a word.

Instead, Ben simply shrugs, popping the cap off his beer and taking a swig. “No idea sorry.” Joe squints at the blonde, but says nothing more on the topic, his eyes traveling over the costume his best mate had opted to wear. “Ben, mate, I’ve gotta ask. What are you wearing?” He waves his hand in the general direction of Ben’s costume, which consisted of a lime green skirt with purple flowers, salmon coloured tank top, and black boots.

Ben looks rather outraged at Joe’s obliviousness to his costume. “I’m sexy Patrick Star you uncultured swine!” He cries out, folding his arms across his chest, glaring at Joe. “What about you? You’ve barely put any effort in at all!”

Joe looks down at himself pouting at the blonde. “What do you mean? I’m in costume too!”

“It doesn’t count if you dress as your own character!”

Now that was something Joe hadn’t considered, he hadn’t even run his costume by with you, he just assumed that what he had decided to wear would be fine! He had on his baseball outfit from undrafted, lucky number 15 for Pat Murray. Looking at the slightly faded red shirt now however, Joe realised it was perhaps a somewhat lazy costume choice, he had just been so excited to still be able to fit into it! He never stopped to think, should he wear it? “At least my ass looks good in these pants.”

Ben can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “Well, you’re not wrong.” A grin is plastered to Joe’s lips, as he gazes around the kitchen. Clearly you had been up to something, as there were currently at least fifteen people milling around the apartment, none of which he had invited, not that they were any less welcome though.

“No fucking way!” Joe screeches, as he looks over to the front door. It had been left open, allowing the warm night air flow into the apartment, also to stop people from constantly ringing the doorbell, allowing the guests to just walk right on in. Ben casts his glance towards the door also, an identical look of glee on his face also. “RAMI! LUCY!”

The sheer volume of Joe’s voice carries over the small crowd of guests, and the two people of his calling turn to look at him, only to find the man in question jumping up and down like a child on Christmas, waving his hands in the air. Ben looks almost embarrassed to be stood beside him, though he would never leave his side, especially seeing as the only other people who he knew at the party, were headed straight for him now. The ever impeccably dressed couple, now stood with them, dressed as Jack and Sally from the nightmare before Christmas. It was a classic costume, but they both pulled the look off so well! “What the hell are you two doing here?” Joe grins, as he wraps his arms around Lucy, then Rami in a tight, welcoming hug.

“You know, I would love to know the answer to that also Joe. Lucy, perhaps you could shed some light on the situation?” Rami smirks, wrapping an arm around the blonde bombshell.

Ben raises a quizzical eyebrow at Lucy, while she shies away from the interrogation she was currently facing. “Maybe, I accidentally typed in the wrong address when booking our uber?” She offers in explanation, though it’s obvious that even she doesn’t believe her own lie.

“Did Y/N have something to do with it?” Joe laughs, swiping a beer off the table for himself.

“I’m pretty sure Y/N had something to do with this entire party. You just weren’t told.” Ben offers quietly. Joe nods in agreement, there was no denying you had created this party, even if Joe had thought he was the one planning the whole thing.

The front door continues to swing open and closed, allowing more and more people inside, the dull mumble of conversation rising to one of a low roar. A tall shadow looms over the small group, who had migrated into the sitting room, Rami was scrolling through Joe’s phone, creating a playlist for the night, while Lucy, Ben and Joe discussed their latest projects. “Looks like our mission from God was a success. We’ve gotten the band back together.” The deep voice of Gwilym is one that cannot go unrecognised, and the small group all turn to face him. The Brit was dressed as Indiana Jones, complete with a whip from a children’s costume of the adventurer, and a brown sable fedora.

*****************

You switch the air pump off, turning to face the mirror once more, a broad grin covering your concealed face. “Joe is going to love this!” You chuckle to yourself, moving to exit the bathroom. Your walk is a slow, lumbering one, your oversized costume causing you to take short steps, as apposed to the long strides you usually took. You left your phone on the bathroom counter, having realised you had no way of picking it up and storing it on your person, now you had your costume fully applied. As you exit the bathroom, the soft notes of the time warp, melt into those of the much louder all star, the smash mouth hit blaring through the speakers on the floor below. “Stairs, okay, we can do stairs. This is fine, I am fine...”

At no point during the costume planning process had you considered the need to travel downstairs, and now here you stood, trying to gauge what the best way to tackle your descend. To say it was a slow process down would be an understatement, as you neared the bottom, a few guests stopped to look at your larger than life costume, attempting to peer in and see who had donned such an outrageous outfit. However they soon gave up, when you took too long to reach them. You could hardly blame them for walking away, by the time you got off the stairs, it had taken you close to seven minutes! You wouldn’t wait for you either.

You scan over the crowd, costumed people milling around your apartment drinking and eating, a few dancing along to the music that filled every crevice of the small home. Finally, you spot the people you had been looking for, your small band of misfits who had taken up one of the sofa’s in the sitting room. Somehow Ben, Lucy, Gwil and Rami had managed to sit themselves of the two-seater, leaving Joe sat cross legged on the carpet beside them. Moving closer, Ben is the first to spot you, not that you had expected anything else, he was the only one who knew what your costume was, in all honesty, he had been keeping an eye out for you all evening. Your shadow looms over Joe, who frowns slightly at what he would deem, as a rude intrusion into his personal space. “Hey mate, I think one of your guests needs a hand.” Ben smirks, raising an eyebrow in your general direction.

*****************

Joe looks up at Ben, his neck straining from having to continuously tilt his head back at an awkward angle to see his friends. He pushes himself up from the floor, adjusting his now lopsided baseball cap, before pivoting on the spot, only to come face to face with an inflatable T-Rex. The grin which takes over his face, is one you had been praying you would see tonight, and it only cements the fact, that you had worn the perfect costume. Sure it would likely never be worn again, you couldn’t think of a time where you would require a T-Rex costume, and you could almost guarantee that after tonight, it would be folded back into the amazon box it had arrived in, then shoved under your bed, never to see the light of day again. But just for this moment, the look on Joe’s face, made it all entirely worth it!

“Y/N that had better be you under there. Or I’m about to profess my love for a complete stranger.” He chuckles, the grin never wavering from his cheeks, as he looks past the mesh below the dinosaur’s head, searching for a face he could recognise.

You shake your head from side to side, the dinosaur’s head moving erratically as you do so. “Of course it’s me! Honestly, who else would do something like this?” You laugh, as Joe wraps his arms around you, hugging as best he can through the thick layer of inflated costume.

“Bugger me I love you.” He breaths out softly before he whirls around on the spot, one arm remaining wrapped around you, causing you to stumble forward with him. “Benjamin! Did you know about this?” Joe cries, mock hurt flashing through his hazel eyes.

Ben simply shrugs, downing the last of his beer, before leaning forwards and placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Don’t yell at Ben! If it hadn’t of been for him, this whole thing would’ve been ruined with your snooping!” You laugh in your friend’s defence.

Joe turns to look at you, mouth agape at your outcry. “What do you mean, my snooping?”

You roll your eyes, though quickly speak up, having forgotten no one can see your face terribly well. “Oh come off it Joe, you know as well as I do that if you get a hunch something is going on, then you do everything in your power to get to the bottom of it!”

“I do not!”

This time, there is a chorus of people agreeing with you, and Joe now turns to the group who he had only moments ago been sitting with. “Ben, I expected this from you. But the rest of you? I expected better!”

“Oh Joe, we love you, But Y/N is right. You remember Christmas last year, when you thought Gwil had you for secret Santa? You wouldn’t let it go for weeks! Not until you finally got you present, only to find out Rami had had you!” Lucy grins, shaking her head softly. Joe has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

“You followed me home one night after filming! It was bloody terrifying!” Gwil chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “I nearly called the police, I thought someone was about to rob me, until I realised it was you lurking by the front door!”

You can’t help but laugh at this, as Rami turns to look at Gwil in shock. “I’m sorry, Joseph did what now?” Joe fumbles with his words as he attempts to explain himself, as Gwil simply laughs loudly, unable to form words to explain the situation to Rami. You remember that discussion quite well with Joe.

*****************

It was close the four in the morning when you heard the front door creak open, you had been napping on the sofa, the show you had been binge watching on Netflix long since finished. But Joe had promised he would be home at a reasonable hour tonight, so you had decided to stay up and wait for him. This, however, was not what you considered a reasonable time! And from the way he had been talking when you spoke on the phone earlier in the day, he was expecting to be home just after midnight.

“Hey babe.” He smiled, toeing off his shoes at the front door, and hanging his coat up on the hook by the door. You frown over at him, peering over the back of the sofa, sleep clouding you vision momentarily.

“Where have you been?” You sigh, on any other night, you would likely get into an argument over his late arrival. But you were too tired for that right now, and quietly you were just glad that he was home now.

Joe has the decency to look somewhat guilty, as he moves around the apartment, settling down on the sofa beside you. He lifts your legs for a few moments, before lowering them back down, now resting over his lap. “I’m sorry Y/N. I had a few errands to run. I guess I lost track of time.”

“Errands at three in the morning?” Joe goes still, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind as he tries to think up an excuse. “Out with is Mazzello.”

Joe pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index fingers, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “I, um, followed Gwil home.” He mumbles.

You’re at a loss for words, and blink steadily at the ginger beside you. You had met Gwilym only a handful of times, he was such a gentleman! And for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Joe had felt the need to follow the man home. “Expand and explain.”

“You know how the cast and I are all doing secret Santa this year?” Joe pauses, and looks over to you, watching as you nod in understanding before he continued. “Well, Rami kept asking me about things that I liked, and what I would perhaps want for Christmas. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I saw him and Gwil whispering to each other, and they kept looking over at me when I was grabbing a coffeein between takes. I put two and two together, and figured Rami was collecting information for Gwil! I asked around, tried to find out if anyone knew who had me, but either no one knew, or they refused to tell me. So I decided to take things into my own hands! We finished up for the night, and I decided to follow Gwil, to try and confirm my suspicions. He went to a department store, and I followed him as best I could, but I couldn’t see what he purchased, there were too many people around. So I realised I just had to follow him home, and see if I could catch what I was wrapping. And well, that’s kinda what I did. Problem is, he caught me lurking around the place, swung the door open, demanded I come inside, and proceeded to give me the lecture of a lifetime.” Joe finishes looking like a kicked puppy.

You can barely contain your laughter, and if it were to be told by anyone else, you would say they were lying. But you knew Joe, and this was exactly the kind of thing he would do! “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that right? The whole point of secret Santa is right there in the name, it’s supposed to be a secret!”

“Yes, I know that! But I just had to know if he did have me!”

“And, the verdict was?”

“I still don’t god damned know! I couldn’t see what the gift was when he wrapped it, and he refused to tell me!”

You shake your head, sighing deeply, it was a good thing you lived this man, otherwise you would be on the verge of sending him to a psychiatric ward. “Bloody hell Joe, I’m going to bed before you tell me anymore.”

*****************

As you stand with your rag-tag group of friends, you make a note of the one flaw in your costume, you have no way of eating or drinking whilst wearing it. A pout forms on your lips, as you join in with a conversation Lucy had sprung up with Ben. After a while, you excuse yourself “I’d best go play hostess to the rest of the guests.” You say with a grin, stepping away from the group.

“We all know we are the best guests here!” Rami calls, giving you a double thumbs up as you walk away.

You grin, shaking your head softly as you move around the large number of guests. It seemed like most people had taken the option of bringing a plus one, not that you could blame them. You often did the exact same thing, dragging Joe along to most social gatherings you were invited to. Slowly, you made your way around to everyone, making polite conversation with the guests you didn’t know well, and speaking enthusiastically about your costume with those you did know. By the time you had made the rounds a few times, you were hungry, and honestly really frustrated about not being able to eat. You made your way over to Joe, attempting to be subtle as you slide into the conversation he was engrossed in, Gwil talking animatedly with him about his latest project. “Hey babe, could I borrow you for a few minutes?” You ask softly.

Joe turns away to look at you, smiling at you, leaning down to hear you over the loud noise of the party. “Sure love, let’s go somewhere quiet so I can actually hear you?” He grins, before leading you away, towards the laundry. It was a rather small room, and was barely more quiet than where you had just been, but you were thankful for not having to manoeuvre the stairs once again. It was one thing to go down, and you wouldn’t know where to begin with how to go up. “What’s up?” Joe grin, leaning back against the washing machine, arms folded loosely over his chest.

“Can you give me a hand getting out of this?” You laugh, gesturing as best you can with you tiny T-Rex arms, at the costume you were surrounded by. “It was a bitch of a thing to get on, and I don’t even know where to start with taking it off.”

Joe grins, though moves to you quickly, helping you out of the outfit with ease. Perhaps you should’ve asked for some help getting it on also? That probably would’ve been a good idea… Joe places the sad looking T-Rex in the corner of the laundry, grinning across at you. “Now who are you supposed to be?” He chuckles, taking in your now lack of costume.

You look down at your yoga pants and shirt combo. “I’m a Jurassic Park fan still, can’t you tell?” You smirk, pointing to the faded Jurassic Park logo shirt, which you had long ago stolen from Joe. “I’ve got a soft spot for ‘lil Tim Murphy. He was my first movie crush.” You giggle.

Joe sighs, rolling his eyes at you, though a smirk tugs the corner of his lips. “How about a soft spot for Pat Murray too?” He suggests wriggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You walk over to him slowly, rolling your hips as you do so, watching as his eyes travel from yours, and down to your hips. You stand up tall, taking the dusty cap off his head, planting it firmly on your own. His hair is an absolute mess underneath, his auburn locks pointing in all directions.

“Perhaps I just have a soft spot for that actor in general?” You tease, before making your way out of the laundry, and back to the party. You don’t wait for Joe, making your way over to your group once more, throwing yourself onto the sofa with an “Ooof.” Ben barely had a chance to get out of the way before you land partially on him, and Lucy grins at you from where she sits on the arm of the sofa.

“Someone pass me something alcoholic in nature please.” You grin, as you make yourself comfortable, sinking into the cushions. You don’t have to as twice, a glass of what you assume is rum and coke, thrust into your hands from Rami. “Cheers!” You grin, raising your glass in the air, before tipping the contents back.

You quickly fall into conversation with Ben, thanking him over and over again for keeping Joe distracted earlier in the evening, to which he brushes you off, telling you to not worry about it. Completely unaware, that when he brings up the promotion you recently got at work, that perhaps he was now keeping you distracted. Joe had reappeared recently, sitting on the opposite side of you, with a bowl of hula hoops in his lap. Carefully, he takes your left hand, and places one of the snacks on your ring finger, a soft blush covering his cheeks. “Thank you Joe, I am starving!” You grin, eating the food off your finger.

You’re oblivious to what he’s getting at, paying no mind to which finger he continues placing the crisp on, and instead, eating it off each time a new one appears. Joe looks at Ben over you shoulder, who simply shrugs in response, unsure what either could do about it. “Babe, could I maybe have more than one at a time?” You ask sweetly, and Joe looks physically pained.

Lucy, who had been watching the events unfold before her, had cottoned on to what was going on early in the piece, and decided to jump to Joe’s aid. “Y/N darling, just take a second and look at your hand yeah?”

You frown slightly at her, before turning away from Joe, looking down at your hand. “What’s so special about? Oh….” Perhaps it shouldn’t have taken you this long to figure out what was going on. The hula hoop sat just above your first knuckle on your ring finger.

“Um, I know this isn’t how one normally does the whole, proposal thing. But we haven’t gone out looking at rings before, and I don’t know was your ring size is… So I’m kinda hoping this will do for the time being? As a place holder kind of thing?” Joe rambles, the blush creeping steadily up to the tips of his ears.

“Joseph, I’ll marry you with or without a ring.” You grin, throwing your arms around his neck, as his snake around your waist, your lips pressing together in a fierce kiss. A kiss full of promises of the future.

“Jeez, I don’t know how we’ll upstage Halloween next year.” Gwil smirks, as he and the other guests who were aware of the happenings clapped for the newly engaged couple.

My Masterlist

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 5 years ago

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 16 – Sudden Shift

“Here.”

Though Lunark gingerly offered her hand, Frankenstein maintained his speechless stance, merely staring at her hand.

“What is it? Did you need more?”

“No... I felt that you’ve gotten better at this lately.”

Frankenstein’s eyes were noting the plastic bags she dispensed from her robe, packed with pink petals.

Her first trial at botanical excavation did not turn out beautiful. The bag she submitted to Frankenstein contained balls of dirt and soil dangling from roots of the wolfsbane plants, which later turned out to be partially mangled, thanks to Frankenstein’s inspection.

But this time she brought what looked like samples ready to be used at a lab. Frankenstein could not fathom what happened to her in the meantime.

“Did you ask your medical staff for a tutoring session on sampling?”

“Of course not. No one is supposed to know we’re seeing each other on...”

“I’m just saying. Or did I just get you?”

Lunark had to force an extraordinary calm on her mind in order to keep her body from a flinch.

Because, yes – he got her. He got her good.

Prior to this trip, she paid a visit to the medical staff of her kind, particularly those in charge of collecting and managing medicine. While pretending to check if they are doing what they are supposed to, she watched how they harvest, wash, and pack herbs and plants that will be used at labs and wards.

Lunark did not trust in her own acting skills, so she opted to change the subject in order to stay safe from Frankenstein’s uncanny skills in piecing together what he could see to deduce what he was not there to see.

“Anyways, where’s that damned roommate of yours?”

Though she changed the subject to get herself out of what could be an awkward situation, her excuse was more than legitimate.

It has been two days since the 3rd Elder promised her the list, and she intended to get it.

Thus she expected him to be waiting for her arrival, with Frankenstein, if not alone. Her eyes were displaying foul curves in displeasure as she looked around the lab yet again, knowing that she will pick up no signs of him.

“He’s outside, getting some food. He asked me to make the delivery before he left.”

Lunark pouted as she accepted a thin envelope Frankenstein passed on to her.

“That’s so not like what an elder of the Union would do. I bet he didn’t even dream that he’d turn out like this, wasting your resources and tasked with something that only the bottommost servants would do.”

“Sounds like you have sworn to hate him for the rest of your life. Not that I don’t get why.”

“But is it okay to let him spend time all by himself away from you? What if he uses this opportunity to get in contact with the Union?”

“Don’t worry. That’s why I implanted in him a special recording device, equipped with a tracker. Once it stops functioning, gets destroyed, stays immobile at a given coordinate past the set amount of time, or gets separated from his body, I will get an automatic notification.”

“You devised it yourself?”

“Yes. He’s also wearing a nano-camera on his shoulder, so I can get a visual record of his whereabouts. And of course, he consented to all of this beforehand.”

Lunark nodded, as she could finally see why Frankenstein did not seem worried about the 3rd Elder.

“You must be running out of time every single day. I mean, you must be busy checking what he does inside and outside this island.”

“Nah, not really. Unbeknownst to the 3rd Elder, the recording device and camera do not work while he is within the shorelines of this island.”

Instantly Lunark’s eyes popped wide open.

“What? So you don’t give a damn about what he does as long as he’s on this island?”

“Nope.”

“What are you thinking?! There’s no telling what he’d do on this island once he decides to do something! And this isn’t a moral issue – you said he consented to your surveillance!”

“I’m not like the Union. I have no intention whatsoever to do what those fiends would have done to M-21, Tao, Takio, and countless other test subjects. Since the 3rd Elder believes his camera and recording device are running 24/7, he wouldn’t dare plot something behind my back. Besides, now we’re in this together. So it can’t hurt to give him the least of my hospitality as an ally, can it?”

Lunark fired a huge ball of air from her body, as if she wanted him to feel guilty upon hearing the noise of the air current.

‘I knew it. He’d do anything he can in order to offer the very least of his generosity.’

She tried another complaint out of concern and frustration, only to give up when Frankenstein jokingly bickered, “Please don’t tell me you don’t trust me. And please don’t question what I can do; otherwise you’d kill my pride.”

Lunark then knew there is no way she could talk against his decision or benevolence.

‘Well, what did I expect? This is one of the many reasons that I fell for him.’

Lunark realized how the corners of her lips were tugging upwards on their own at the last part of her own thought and stiffened her facial muscles.

And she just had to meet Frankenstein in the eyes when she has done so. This time, she chose to turn herself somewhat unintentionally towards the entrance.

“You’re leaving?”

Lunark produced a reply that she had composed beforehand in case he calls upon her like this, and it was more than just an excuse.

“I have a job to do – related to the QuadraNet project.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just the day before, a noble messenger visited our land to ask us to escort the researcher sent by KSA. And since I already had a trip to this isle scheduled, I volunteered for the job.”

“Don’t you think you’re making yourself too busy? You should give yourself some rest from time to time.”

“I can’t do that. Not at a time like this.”

“...In that case, make sure you don’t starve.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m about to feed myself on my way.”

Not having anticipated her to give a positive answer, Frankenstein retorted by raising half of his eyebrows.

“Actually, there is this personal dining spot of mine, close to the Lukedonian boundaries. I’ll get there and wait.”

“What do you mean, Lukedonian boundaries?”

Frankenstein’s voice hit a pitch lower than usual. He was rather startled by what she revealed.

“Are you saying you have a history of waltzing near Lukedonian boundaries on regular basis?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Why would you do that? What if you get in troubles with the nobles?”

“I said it’s close to the boundaries. I didn’t say it’s at the boundaries. And you honestly think I didn’t take the nobles into consideration?”

“You never know when you might slip and...”

“Well, I’ve never been caught. So why worry?”

Lunark stared straight at him, as if posing incomprehension at his response, which rendered Frankenstein’s eyes no longer pacific.

‘What is with this woman? I knew she’s fearless, but...’

Frankenstein was about to scold her again, before he stopped short in his attempt.

Because he remembered that he, too, has a history of trespassing Lukedonia in order to thwart nobles’ hunt for him, thereby proving he contains no definition of fear in his brain.

And if she has never been caught for nearing Lukedonian boundaries, there was no point or reason for him to reprimand her. Not to mention now the conflict between nobles and werewolves is history. With diplomacy between two kinds set on a smooth sail, nobles will not protest about her behavior whatsoever, as long as she does not bring any threat to them.

“Need I remind you, I’m a warrior. Please don’t question what I can do; otherwise you’d kill my pride.”

She tilted her head and reiterated what he had said before.

She was, in a way, sassy.

Something Frankenstein has never imagined he would get to witness from her, who was usually shy and rather unjust to her genuine feelings.

Which is why he could not get her image out of his head even after her departure.

‘To be honest, she looked kind of adorable.’

As soon as he mumbled in his head, he stomped his own tongue with his teeth in horror.

Did I just dub her adorable?

Ever since he was young, Frankenstein took interest in the influence that illnesses and science would bring upon mankind’s welfare. It was not long before he bowed to dedicate his all to medical arts and technology.

Because of which he naturally cut himself from all means to associate himself with women.

And because of which he got to stay single for more than 2000 years.

In other words, he was clumsy in treating women as women.

So it was no wonder Frankenstein could not understand why he evaluated Lunark as adorable.

However, Frankenstein was a scientist. His instinctive gift in pinpointing causes and effects kicked in, and he soon reached a potential theory at work behind all this.

‘Do I really love her...? No, that’s impossible!’

Frankenstein attempted to negotiate with his mind, to stop it from occupying itself with Lunark.

Unfortunately for him, his curiosity refused to cooperate.

‘I have had spent at least 1000 years at Lukedonia under the wings of my master, but during that time I have never heard for once about a werewolf constantly showing up near Lukedonian boundaries.’

So either Lunark has never been caught by nobles upon her visits, as she asserted, or she has been caught, but not during the timeline when Frankenstein had made Lukedonia his home.

After weighing several options, Frankenstein came up with a new inquiry –

‘Just how old is she? She’s obviously more than a couple centuries old. So how many years are there between our birthdates?’

Then Frankenstein realized there was no reason for him to be curious about their age difference, wasting his time and mentality like some soon-to-be-40-years-old who received confession from a young lady who just became an undergraduate.

And Frankenstein was appalled once again that he just had to come up with such a metaphor.

Frankenstein sighed, his head drooping in defeat after a battle lost against his mental algorithm, infinitely far from sane.

Although the chances are slim, he hoped that Lunark would take as much time as she can to take Yuhyung to her kind’s territory. That way he would get to reserve some time for himself before she revisits, during which hopefully he would sort out his head and free it from thoughts about the werewolf lady so very successfully blowing his mind upon every appearance.

And thus Frankenstein once again ignored his sudden shift of heart, albeit with pain and struggle.

*****

“...This is not what I had in mind.”

Lunark ruefully sucked pink-orange flecks of flesh remaining on her fingers.

It has been less than 24 hours since Lunark left the island (and the owner of the island in mental knockout), until she reached a certain point close to Lukedonian boundaries.

The “personal dining spot” she mentioned to Frankenstein happened to be the Bermudan Treasure Chest. Even centuries before humans named this spot Bermudan Treasure Chest, Lunark made it her personal hotspot for dining.

Because for a reason she could not decipher, the fishes of this place were much bigger and tastier than the identical species elsewhere.

She could not find time at all to look after something other than battles or missions, much thanks to the Union. Therefore, she was thrilled to find this place after all this time. She has exaggerated to herself how it has been at least centuries before she could make this trip, and she was excited for the fireworks that would soon take place in her mouth, which will surely bring glee for which she would not be surprised to find her eyes teary.

Alas, the taste and volume presented by the fish she had hooked up barehanded was not even close to what she remembered. She could find out the fault did not lie in her taste buds.

“Just what on earth is going on here...?”

She muttered upon spotting miniscule pieces of corals drifting by the surface of water, where she dumped the guts and bones of fish she ate.

Lunark was currently standing on a body of rocks stranded in the middle of water, distanced from coral reefs. Nevertheless, she could see pieces of dead corals wherever she turned.

Now she could not name the exact year or date of the time she was last here, but she could bet she had never once seen something like this in the past.

She would have made her move to check and see if this is something happening widely across this marine region, only if she did not happen to be waiting at the rendezvous.

“Greetings.”

The moment she settled with herself to come back here later, a voice beckoned her, not extremely familiar, not completely strange, either.

Rael was addressing her with his eyes, his entrance made so subtle she could not even feel his presence.

“Long time, no see. First time ever since the last showdown against 1st Elder, isn’t it?”

“Quite. I was at your kind’s territory the day before, to negotiate the escort of KSA researcher. But I don’t remember seeing you when I was there.”

“I had something to do. You must have visited when I wasn’t there. Anyways, is he the one?”

“Yes. Uh, so...”

Rael’s face distorted in an unspeakable way. In fact, Lunark was barely holding onto laughter from the moment she had recognized him.

For Yuhyung was clutching onto Rael with his entire body. Lunark would have mistaken him for a koala, had he not been born with limbs too long to be those of the said mammal.

To top it off, he had his face buried into Rael’s back, as if he were actually playing koala.

“...Is there a problem?”

“He assumed such position, saying how he is not used to transportation not using human transportations. I would like to offer an apology in advance; your trip will not be a comfortable or convenient one.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’d be nothing with what we had gone through against Union, and that was only weeks ago.”

Rael tapped Yuhyung’s arm, to hand him over to Lunark. At last Yuhyung peeked and clumsily detached himself from the noble, to go ahead and sheepishly offer his hand.

“P-pleased to meet you. Yuhyung Jang is my...”

Yuhyung got to look into Lunark’s face, which brought about a sudden shift out of blue.

His face turned pale as he squeaked in panic, and his body dropped and made an audible “plop.” His eyes backflipped, and his entire body fell to the ground as he started emitting bubbly fluid from his mouth.

It all happened so quickly Rael and Lunark could not even react.

Fortunately, it did not take long until they lunged towards the human in alarm.

(next chapter)

Personally I really enjoyed writing this chapter. You keep denying it, Frankie, but you know you love her. XD

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #frankensteinxlunark #lunark #wolfsbane

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lycorogue · 6 years ago

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Latest Story: “I Don’t Care”

I had posted this via an AO3 share on Friday, but it hasn’t had any notes, and I usually get at least one like on my ML stuff. Maybe it’s because it’s a Gabriel and Emilie Agreste love story instead of following one of the teens. Or, maybe because people can’t find the AO3 shares? I thought they were specifically designed to hit the Tumblr algorithm, but maybe I got that backwards?

So, in case it’s because I used the AO3 share button, instead of sharing as I normally would, I’m trying again my traditional way.

Summary: Gabriel Agreste's life was safe, stable, predictable, and boring. That is, until he literally ran into a strange woman at a club; a club he didn't even want to go to. He felt instantly that this Emiile woman would forever change his life. He didn't realize how true that feeling was.

Word Count: 5406; In-Progress

Chapters: 2 out of ?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (mostly because I don’t know where I’ll be going with this.)

Ship: Emilie and Gabriel Agreste

Characters: Gabriel Agreste, Emilie Agreste (before she was an Agreste), and a bunch of OCs. Perhaps Nathalie and/or The Gorilla will make appearances at some point.

You can find the story at my normal 3 spots: on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

In this story, Gabriel is probably about 21 or 22, and Emilie is roughly 20 or 21. Also, since Adrien is 14 in the late 2010s, then he must have been born around the turn of the century. Assuming Emilie and Gabe were together for a little bit before having him, this story is taking place mid- to late-1990s. I’m picturing some time between 1997 and 99.

**Disclaimer: I never intended this story to be more than a one-shot, so I have no clue how frequently I’ll work on it; nor do I know how long it will be once done. This will be a nice palate cleansing side-project whenever I’m stuck in my main writing. So, enjoy this casual ride through Gabriel and Emilie’s romance, and see how Gabriel once was: an actually loving man.

This story actually originated as my Tumblr Exclusive one-off: Stranger in a White Dress. However, I was inspired by Ed Sheeran’s acoustic of “I Don’t Care” and decided to come back to this universe.

For those who wish to read the full story here on Tumblr

Again, “chapter 1″ can be found here

Chapter 2: Alone at a Party

Of course she wasn't there. Why would she be?

Gabriel nodded his thanks to the rented bartender, and walked his glass of whiskey to the far side of the apartment great room. The party was in full swing. A party for someone Gabriel didn't even know. He hated that he let his flatmate Sylvain talk him into coming along. He didn't belong there. He belonged at home.

Or, perhaps with her.

The memory of a slinky white dress and golden Hollywood loose curls flashed in his mind. His phone number on a bare arm. The mysterious fleeing of an astonishing woman. She was his Cinderella, but she hadn't bothered to leave him a glass slipper.

Gabriel settled onto one of the few collapsible chairs scattered about the perimeter of the room. Around him, people were dancing, and laughing, and joking with each other, and catching up on wild tales, and even making out. He didn't want any part of it. In a room stuffed with people, he was alone.

The majority of the party loomed before him. The small rented bar and accompanying bartender were in the opposite corner, past the picture windows and French doors to the balcony. Off to Gabriel's right was the main entrance, constantly flowing with party-goers. There was a chance he'd be able to sneak out unnoticed via the crowd, but if he got bogged down at all Sylvain could spot him and wrangle him back into the party. The hallway behind his left shoulder lead to the bathroom and bedrooms. Gabriel could sneak back to one of them. There had to be an emergency exit; a fire escape or something. He could use that.

Except it was probably off one of the bedrooms, which were all most likely preoccupied already by some promiscuous twenty-somethings enjoying their youth. Something Sylvain swore Gabriel should also be doing.

Gabriel took a sip of his drink. It wasn't top-shelf whiskey, but it was at least smooth with a nice flavor to it. Also, it was free; thank god for hosts who had the decency to set up open bars. Eyeing up the crowd once more, Gabriel plotted his excuse for Sylvain. Would he even notice Gabriel's retreat? He'd most likely go home with at least one person at the party, and wouldn't be bothered to check for when Gabriel made it to the flat. He could just tell Sylvain that he made it home around two. That seemed customary for one to enjoy a "night out."

Maybe he'd go to that club again instead of going home. Could he meet her there a second time? What would the odds be of that? What if she were a university student? Should he walk the campus and hope she's on one of the great lawns? Would he seem like a creep if he did?

First, he had to get out of this blasted apartment.

"Don't have much diversity in your wardrobe, huh?"

Gabriel startled. Something about the voice rang familiar; a tone that he couldn't quite shake out of his head for the past week. He turned, and standing by his right shoulder was the blonde woman he met at the club; the woman he was just thinking of, the woman he couldn't stop thinking about: Emilie.

She had her hair in a ponytail this time, and she wore a simple, Merlot-colored, off-shoulder, long-sleeve t-shirt covered by a deep-dyed, fitted jean vest. Her matching skinny jeans were tucked into black knee-high stiletto boots. A thick, black choker with a silver heart charm dangling from it wrapped around her neck. She looked casual and dressed up at the same time, the gorgeousness of someone who just "threw something on."

She held her warm smile for a few more seconds, but when Gabriel didn't respond, her face fell.

"Oh. Right. The whiskey. You probably don't remem-"

"I definitely remember you." With Gabriel's hand on his lap, he was actually about even with Emilie's hand, which was dangling temptingly by her side. His hand inched across his thigh as he debated wrapping his pinkie around her index finger. Would it be too forward for him to reach out and take her hand? She did kiss him within five minutes of them meeting. Gabriel had no clue what the protocol was for their relationship, if one could even call it that.

Emilie's smile returned, and she sat in the chair to Gabriel's left, forcing him to pivot again to keep eye contact.

"You look like you're having a good time," she teased.

Gabriel huffed. "Flatmate's idea. He's under some impression that he's in charge of my social life, and that I don't have enough of one."

"I have no clue where he could get that idea when you clearly give off such party-animal vibes." Emilie gestured at Gabriel's khakis and rust-colored cable-knit sweater over a white button-down.

"That's true." A smile started tugging at the corners of Gabriel's mouth. "Did you know, a sweater fairly similar to this very one got me ambushed by a complete stranger last Saturday?"

Emilie laughed as a pleasant blush pinked her cheeks. "What can I say? Thick sweaters are like catnip to me."

They shared a short laugh. Emilie inched closer, and crossed her left leg over her right knee. As she settled, her left toes brushed against Gabriel's shin.

"So, tell me about this flatmate of yours. He just kick you out the door like at cat at night?"

"No. He's here. Dragged me with him to this party."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Emilie popped upright, planting both feet to the floor. Gabriel instantly missed the feel of her boot against his leg. "I didn't realize he could go invisible!" She leaned around Gabriel, to where she was standing when she greeted him. "How do you do, Mr. Flatmate." She smiled at the air.

"What on earth are you doing?" Gabriel glanced past his shoulder – half expecting to actually see his flatmate standing there – before staring back at Emilie. "Of course he's not invisible, what kind of nonsense is that?"

"Well." Emilie squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest. "I thought to myself 'Gabe's flatmate brought him here, and yet I don't see him. So either he abandoned his flatmate while at this party, or he's invisible and I was rude to have ignored him this long.' I simply went with the more pleasant answer." The right side of her mouth curled up in a playful smile.

Gabriel laughed and shook his head. He took another sip of his drink before using the rocks glass to gesture towards the cleared out living room floor. A small mob of party goers were dancing, but they were too tightly packed for Gabriel to find Sylvain within the pack.

"He's in there. Somewhere."

"Did he even last ten minutes before lassoing some cutie to grind against?"

Gabriel choked on his sip of whiskey, coughing it back into his glass. He let out a few more chuckles.

"It's fine," Gabriel told her lightly. "It just means I can sneak away without him realizing I cut out early."

"Oh? You're leaving so soon? But I just re-found you."

"Well, I-"

"We can't have that." Emilie stood up and grabbed Gabriel's drink from his hand. "Whiskey again?"

Gaping, Gabriel slowly nodded. Emilie shrugged, and then downed the rest of his drink.

"What are you-?"

Emilie placed Gabriel's now-empty glass down, grabbed his hand, and tugged him out to the dance floor.

"Come on, you have to at least have some fun before you run away."

"Who said I wasn't having some fun just now?" Just like the first night they met, Emilie easily flowed through the crowd, whereas Gabriel, dragged behind her, bounced off nearly every person they passed.

"We didn't dance at the club. We should dance here." She halted to the right of the crowd. Her chest rose and fell like she was panting, even though they didn't do anything terribly strenuous.

"First of all, we didn't dance because you mysteriously disappeared back onto the dance floor without me, and without so much as a proper goodbye. Secondly, I don't dance."

"Alright. I accept your first point, but I refuse to believe the second one. Everyone dances, even if it's goofily while alone in their bedrooms."

"I do structured dances; ballroom dances."

"Ballroom?" Emilie nearly screamed with surprise. "Alright, that I definitely have to see. I doubt they'll let us put on Chopin, however. Either way, it still means that you do indeed have a sense of rhythm. So, come on, don't be shy."

She started bobbing her head and shuffling her shoulders to the synth beat of the club music playing. Adding in some snaps on the downbeats, she wiggled her hips. Raising her hands over her head, Emilie slinked around Gabriel as she danced. As her hip passed his, she bumped them. With a quick spin behind his back, she bumped his other hip with hers, then continued to dance in front of him.

Gabriel was thrown off balance with each hip bump, and not just literally. The contact from her short-circuited him each time. All he could manage was dumbly watching her dance before him. Suddenly, he once more wondered what he was doing at that party; with her. At the same time though, he didn't wish to be anywhere else.

"Well?" Emilie giggled, "Are you joining in?"

Gabriel bashfully shook his head. "I told you, I don't dance."

"Actually, quite the contrary. You just told me that you do dance. So let's see it." She then smirked and grabbed each of Gabriel's hands. "Here, I'll even help you get started." She altered pumping each of their arms over their heads, then she leaned away from him so she could wiggle their arms as if they were swinging double-dutch rope.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel laughed.

"Helping you dance to prove that you can do it. Your shoulders are still a bit stiff though." She dropped his hands and instead grabbed his shoulders to shake them to the rhythm.

He laughed harder and grabbed her hips to try to stop her. Instead, she smirked and rocked her hips more enthusiastically. Her own hands shifted from his shoulders to the sides of his chest in an attempt to get that to move as well.

"We look ridiculous." Gabriel shook his head, and stubbornly didn't move his feet.

"Exactly! That's how you know we're having fun."

"Okay, enough 'fun' though." Gabriel chuckled and pulled her against him so she had no room to keep moving. It kept him a second too long to realize what he had just done.

They stilled as they stared at each other, their arms wrapped around each other's backs. Somehow, Emilie's jade eyes seemed a richer green than Gabriel remembered. The scent of lavender enveloped him. His body burned, and their chests rose and fell in sync.

A smooth jazz song with an electronic bass started up, causing the crowd to slow down and pinch close to each other.

Very much like how Gabriel and Emilie already were.

The song was in three-quarter measure, and had a sultry flow to the notes. Gabriel eased at the familiarity of the rhythm. He pulled Emilie's left hand off his back, and placed it on his right shoulder. He then tugged gently on her right elbow to coax that hand off his back as well. Sliding his fingers down her right forearm, he took her hand in his.

"Gabe?"

He smiled and gave her a quick wink. Mentally counting the start of the next measure, he began twirling her around their little circle of the floor. He smoothly lead her in a simple waltz. There was more space between them then there was a moment before, but somehow it felt more intimate; dancing with her like that. Her eyes enlarged and sparkled as a grin grew wider and wider across her face.

"Does this mean I know how to dance the waltz as well?" Emilie teased.

"It means you have a good partner."

She bit her lip as her smile kept crawling up her face. "I do, do I?"

Gabriel blushed and averted his gaze. Emilie quickly cupped his chin in her left hand, and redirected it back towards her. Running her fingers along his jawline, she then brought her hand back to his shoulder so they could continue dancing.

"Tell me about this mysterious flatmate of yours. Why does he feel like he's your keeper, and why the need to force socialization onto you?"

"He's one of those exhausting people-persons who needs stimulation every waking moment, and he's quite confused as to how I can enjoy our little flat, and be content with just my drafting table. So he shoves me out into the world and demands I take part in it."

"Drafting table? Are you some sort of architect then?"

"Fashion designer. Aspiring, at least."

Emilie leaned further away from him, eyed up his outfit, and giggled.

"Please tell me this isn't one of your designs."

"What's wrong with it?"

Emilie grew red, and pulled against Gabriel's hold, trying to shrink away from him. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to insult you, I just figured the outfit was sort of plain, especially for a party like this. But I'm wearing a t-shirt, so I shouldn't judge what's fashionable. It was so insensitive of me, I just-"

Gabriel burst into a laugh. "I was just joking." Emilie backhanded his shoulder, and Gabriel reflexively muttered 'ow.' He laughed a bit more at her surly pout, but quickly settled. "I focus mostly on women's clothing designs, although you are probably right that I should start dressing the part a bit more myself. I might have to branch out into men's clothes as well."

Emilie's head slowly rocked side-to-side as she studied him. "You know, your blue eyes are almost a silver color."

"They are?"

"Yep. You would look really sharp in an ivory, or maybe a nice royal purple. It would really make your eyes pop."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Gabriel pressed gently on Emilie's back, directing her into a spin under his arm. He held her at arm's length, and she leaned away from him, waiting to be pulled back in.

"Why did you let him bring you here? Your flatmate. If you weren't going to enjoy yourself at this party, then why come? Why not stay at your drafting table designing the next great fashion trend?"

Gabriel tugged gently to again spin Emilie under his arm, and caught her back in the standard waltzing pose.

"He was persistent. Also, perhaps a part of me hoped I would stumble into you again."

"You didn't even know I'd be here. I bet you can't tell me who invited me to this party."

"That's true, but it had been a week, and clearly you didn't need more cheering up. So, I decided to leave our meeting up to Fate, and Fate seems to have delivered."

"So you're saying it pays to leave the flat every now and again."

"In this one instance, yes, but don't let my flatmate know, otherwise I'll never get any rest."

"I'll be sure to avoid the topic, however I still don't know who your flatmate even is."

"Good. We should keep it at that."

"Afraid he'll whisk me away?"

"More that he'd scare you away. He's a bit... intense."

"Damn extroverts."

"Precisely."

Emilie giggled as the song ended. Tucking a non-existent stray strand of hair behind her ear, she tugged on Gabriel's hand. Silently, he allowed her to lead him out onto the balcony.

"You have a thing with balconies, don't you?" Gabriel hung back by the door as Emilie continued towards the railing.

"I enjoy taking in Paris. Your flatmate is right; you need to be out in this glorious city, not trapped inside with a drafting table. How could you not be inspired by all of this?" She swung her arms wide as they overlooked a sea of dazzling lights.

"It's not much different than the view I have by my drafting table. I did make sure to place it by a window."

"But it's not just the view! It's the people! The experience that is Paris!"

"The experience? You sound like a tourist."

"That's the point!" Emilie grabbed his hands and pulled him to the railing. She then gestured out towards the grand view, pointing to a large spire poking out in the distance on their left. "The majesty of the Eiffel Tower." She then pivoted Gabriel to face to their right. "The romance of the Love Locks on Pont des Arts." She stretched in front of him, pointing to the large tower looming just past their peripheral on their right. "The breathtaking views of Paris seen from atop Montparnasse." Gesturing to her left again, she pointed in a vague direction. "The history of the Place de la Concorde."

"You don't know where the Place is, do you?"

"Eh, it's over there somewhere." She wiggled her fingers roughly straight ahead. "I'm not the best with cardinal directions. I do know it's to the east of the Eiffel Tower."

Gabriel smiled, keeping his eyes on Emilie instead of the view she was trying to show off.

"But it truly is the people of Paris that makes this city special. You have to walk among them; greet them; rub elbows with them-"

"Kiss them?"

Emilie blushed. "Uh, about that. I didn't mean-" She turned towards Gabriel, and found him pressed against her side. "-to, uh, offend." Gabriel leaned in, and her blush deepened. "I'm sorry I never called you."

"Did you not want to?"

"No. I did. I wanted to so badly."

"You don't seem the type to hold back when you want something."

"You had been drinking. I didn't know if you'd want to hear from me again. Didn't know if you would even remember me."

"I don't think I could ever forget you." He ran his hand across the railing, and rested it on top of hers.

Emilie's eyes darted to his hand, then back up to meet his intense gaze. Her hand grew hot under his. Her lips parted slightly; welcomingly. Gabriel ran his index finger across the edge of Emilie's swooped bangs, following their line to her ear. He then brushed his thumb down the side of her face, their eyes never breaking contact. His thumb continued across her chin, and stopped just below her lips. He could feel the gloss of her lipstick, and wondered if it tasted of anything. Maybe the remnants of his whiskey that she had downed before they danced.

Emilie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached out to kiss the tip of Gabriel's lingering thumb. It made his own breath catch.

"We both had some whiskey this time," Gabriel whispered.

Emilie hummed in response.

"I don't think that's why I feel drunk though," he continued.

Emilie's breath was sharp and loud. Her eyes darted open, and her hand wrapped around the nape of Gabriel's neck, pulling him hungrily down to her. Gabriel's hand quickly shifted to Emilie's back so his thumb wouldn't be in the way.

She seemed so tiny in his hands, and yet she was so fierce. He still barely knew her, but he wanted to more than anything else in the world. Every second he was with her, he craved more. He hated the world, hated being in it, but he'd gladly stand in the middle of a crowded Tokyo if it was to be with her.

He didn't understand what his appeal was to her, but he'd figure that out as well. He'd learn everything about her. He'd spend the rest of his life as her student; mastering every nuance, every scent, every movement, every tone, every kindness, every flaw; everything that made up Emilie.

They pulled apart after Gabriel had no clue how long, but he knew it was too soon. He rested his forehead against hers, his thumb running across the hand still tucked under his.

"I think you should give me your number this time, since clearly you can't be trusted to pick up a phone."

"Does that mean you'll leave your Fortress of Solitude again; join society?"

"As long as it means spending time with you."

She smiled and pulled away from him. She slinked her hand free of his, and held it palm up to him.

"In that case, I hope you have a pen on you."

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paulisweeabootrash · 7 years ago

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New Year’s Cleanup: End of 2018 Mini-Reviews

It’s a mini-review pack!

Sometimes I watch shows that I have something to say about, but I don't feel like writing a real review of them. Let's close out 2018 with some short appraisals of a few shows I watched this year that fit that bill. Happy New Year, nerds!

-----

1. Chu-Bra (2010)

(based on 3 episodes)

I found this show purely by scrolling alphabetically through VRV's catalog of Crunchyroll shows. The synopsis sounded like a total disaster, so I clicked on it, and it pretty much is, but surprisingly it's mainly because of the execution, not the premise. This school life comedy follows Nayu Hayama, a middle schooler who aspires to design underwear. It seems like it's trying to use an otaku-friendly mindless fanservice format as a vehicle to sneak in some endearing friendships and surprisingly informative information about puberty, ordinary adolescent insecurities, and, uh, how to properly fit bras. But if you want that, just go watch Please Tell Me! Galko-chan instead. It is a much better show that won’t leave you feeling nearly as uncomfortable afterwards.

Classic W/A/S: 2 / 6 / 7

Weeb: There's a little bit of particularly Japanese attitudes and references that pop up regarding how others react to Nayu, but anyone who has gone to school with judgemental classmates or teachers should understand.

Ass: Brief actual nudity, plus tiresome levels of conveniently-timed gusts of wind and/or pratfalls lifting skirts, and groping that is played for laughs but ultimately pretty uncomfortable, especially because of the age of the characters.

Shit: The "ass" score, and how it’s executed, is closely related to why the show falls apart for me. The whole show just felt icky.

-----

2. Love and Lies (2017)

(based on 4 episodes)

A complicated love story set in an alternate present where Japan decided to boost its birthrate through algorithmically-enforced matchmaking. Drama ensues as a forbidden romance between a couple who are not matched to each other, Yukari (who, by the way, is named after the Yukari Law — the law that authorized the matchmaking system!) and Misaki, gets cheered on by Yukari's assigned wife, Rinina. It's a beautiful and engaging work of speculative fiction and criticism of overconfidence in automation with varied, believable, and lovable characters and please just go watch it.

Classic W/A/S: 3 / 3 / 1

Weeb: There are some very distinctly Japanese allusions, most commonly and notably the "red string of fate", but if you're watching the subtitled version, anything likely to need explanation is explained on-screen. The most foreign concept to an American audience might be the idea of a government agency that is widely trusted and assumed to be competent.

Ass: Brief partial nudity and allusions to sex because of course there are, the show is about romantic relationships. Little that's fanservicy or gratuitous, though.

Shit: The only complaints that come to mind are a few off-looking facial expressions and the weirdly variable competence of the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare — not in their matchmaking, but in their ability to find Yukari in a park at midnight but not find Misaki's legal address. But maybe that's intentional, and it seems almost in character, given their supreme confidence in the perfect system and obliviousness to anything being wrong with it.

-----

3. KADO: The Right Answer (2017)

(based on entire series — 12 episodes)

Speaking of great works of speculative fiction you need to go watch, this is that, at least for most of its run. Watch Ministry of Foreign Affairs negotiator Shindo Kojiro accidentally become humanity's ambassador to a radically-non-human alien while he's trying to go on vacation! Explore the social and political implications of sufficiently advanced technology indistinguishable from magic! Ponder the disturbing implications of being unaware of higher spacial dimensions but still existing in them! Then nosedive into a poorly-set-up, literal deus ex machina ending that defeats most of that development and speculation and exploration!

Classic W/A/S: 1 / 1 / 3 for most of the series, then suddenly 9 at the end. Seriously guys this ending is baaaaad.

Weeb: Not so much Japanese as just very sci-fi geek. Not in references, but in topic. This is a show for the committed sci-fi fan.

Ass: I watched it pretty early in the year and wasn't actually planning on reviewing it, but I don't remember any nudity or innuendo or anything at all. If the mere mention of sex is too much, that’s the only thing I can think of justifying a point of Ass for this show.

Shit: Other than the terrible ending, my biggest complaint complaint by far is some aspects of the CGI. The entire show is 3D rendered, which makes the intricate and shifting surface texture of KADO, the alien craft, look incredible (and suitably alien), but the human characters often end up looking oddly robotic, maybe due to a failure by the animators, maybe due to the software itself. It’s frequently unpleasant to look at, but the story was so interesting I wanted to keep watching!

-----

4. Magical Girl Ore (2018)

(based on entire series — 12 episodes)

A couple of aspiring idols, Saki and Sakuyo, become magical girls... who are ridiculously muscular men after they transform. A love triangle immediately ensues, with Sakuyo crushing on Saki, Saki crushing on Sakuyo's brother Mohiro, and Mohiro only returning Saki's feelings when Saki is in her transformed male form. The rest is an over-the-top parody of magical girl shows, full of twists on or outright subversions of the usual tropes of those genres and frequent tangents and fourth-wall breaks. But I think I've seen a lot of these jokes before in Excel Saga (which is such an old favorite of mine that I really should review it sometime), Pop Team Epic, or both. A somewhat-surprising plot twist later and we're at a climactic showdown with the Big Bad.

Classic W/A/S: 7 / 4 / 3

Weeb: Jokes may still work in a "lol so random" kind of way, but are much funnier if you get the references. The show relies heavily on familiarity with not just magical girl shows but several anime in other genres, the formulaic expectations set up by recent anime across genres, and even to some extent the animation industry. This is a show by otaku for otaku.

Ass: Most questionable content occurs in the context of occasional parodies of fanservice — spun not to be genuinely sexy but to laugh at the way typical anime fanservice portrays women by treating male bodies the same way. There's also quite a lot of partial male nudity in the obligatory hot springs episode, which is treated sexually because of the aforementioned love triangle. (Psst, anime writers and directors: more fanservice shots of men in other shows, plz.)

Shit: A lot of gags are kinda just low-hanging fruit of "haha, look at this, it's a thing you recognize from other shows". The things that aren't are pretty well developed, and a few things that appear to be art errors turn out to actually be part of the joke.

-----

5. Polar Bear Cafe (2012–2013)

(based on 6 episodes)

This mellow slice-of-life follows a group of humans and surprisingly-realistically-drawn animals, focusing on the patrons of Polar Bear Cafe (run by — surprise! — a literal polar bear named Polar Bear), especially on the terminally-lazy Panda's attempt to work part-time as a zoo exhibit. Its slowness is a nice part of the atmosphere, but it's also not a show suitable for binge-watching. You might end up falling asleep, and the running jokes get grating after a while. Watch only an episode or two at a time when you need something happy and relaxing.

Classic W/A/S: 5 / 0 / 1

Weeb: Polar Bear constantly makes puns that only make sense in Japanese, which are explained as on-screen notes, but seeing a pun accompanied by a note is not nearly as funny as actually getting the pun. I don't think I've ever seen an American show from any time period or genre that is similar to this show's format or pacing, so I'm also going to maintain that "mellow slice-of-life" is itself a concept that deserves a few weeb points.

Ass: Near-constant nudity... by the non-human characters. Seriously, guys, this show is far more innocent than your typical Disney movie.

Shit: I'm sure there's something wrong with this show, but I'm blind to whatever it is because it's so cozy.

#weeaboo trash #mini-reviews #chu-bra #love and lies #kado: the right answer #magical girl ore #polar bear cafe #happy new year #anime review

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somekpopfics · 8 years ago

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November Rain (JungkookXOC)

Angst/Romance/Dystopian JungkookxOC story with some JiminxOC. Extended on several parts, total ~37k words. You can read Part 1.1 / Part 1.2 / Part 1.3 / Part 2.1 / Part 2.2

Part 3.1

Nature of things, cold as ice, please have mercy.

When Jungkook saw another man on the screen, he never thought his heart would ever ache more. He never thought there was a feeling worse than having your dreams crushed by something more powerful than you. He never thought It could do such a thing to him, who had so patiently waited to have what he had silently asked for.

But when time ticked, when the rain poured and drenched his clothes, when he waited, hidden under the shadows near the border, when he never saw her coming to him, he knew.

He knew that there was something worse than having your dreams crushed by a more powerful being.

Having your dreams crushed by the one who was supposed to make then come true.

But then again, wasn’t he not surprised? How foolish was it, to think Dayeon would put everything aside to run away with him? To think she would let go of everything just for him, and him only.

Jungkook hated the rain in November.

It was cold, piercing through his clothes, wetting his skin to his core. Maybe he should have brought a coat, at least. Or some spare clothes.

Or maybe a toothbrush?

Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff out loud. Was he supposed to simply go back home, now that he knew there was nothing to do but accept whatever was planned for him? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want anything to do with that girl they showed on the screen for him. He didn’t want anything of the dream job, dream house, dream life. He never wanted any of it.

All he asked for, the only, one, tiny little thing he wanted, was Dayeon.

He wouldn’t be able to witness her going around hands in hands with her so called match. He wouldn’t bare seeing her smiling to and looking at anyone else the way she used to with him.

Was it that easy for her to let go of him? To go on and blindly follow a calculation? An algorithm?

It seemed like it.

Without a single look backward, Jungkook turned on his heels, eyeing the darkness in front of him. There was a path that led to the unknown, to his chosen future, and he would follow it even if it meant losing everything else. If he had lost Dayeon for good, then he had lost everything that attached him to this Society.

He cared for his parents for a certain extend, but there were so many things he knew about them that made his adoration for them more… pointless.

Not every match was perfect. Not every life was, either. If only Dayeon knew… then maybe, hopefully, she would have thought otherwise.

His first steps through the night were slow, filled with thoughts of the one he would need to forget. The more his feet moved, the more he wished to go back and see her again.

If only she knew… how much he wanted her with him. How much she deserved more than a traced destiny. How much she deserved to choose.

It was useless, though, because his steps became faster and faster. Then he started running. Nothing was stopping him, he was free. He continued like this until his lungs begged for air and his legs to stop. He didn’t want to turn around, but was curious to see what the city looked like from this far.

But then he just continued running.

He did for a while until stopping again when the rain did as well. He had never run this much before and it felt completely ecstatic. When he looked up at the sky, the clouds were gone and billion of stars stared back at him. He could almost imagine them smiling at him, encouraging him to pursue, to go even further. It’s like they screamed his name in oblivion.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Jungkook!”

He smiled, his strength renewed and he sprinted again. He continued looking up, arms flailing to the sky, waving at the stars.

And then he screamed.

He screamed like he never did before. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t allowed to. He yelled to his freedom, to the choice he had made.

Then his scream transformed into a cry. A cry for the loss of the ones he cared about.

Exhaustion hit him again and he stopped, body bending in half to try and catch his breath. When he looked up he froze, eyes attracted by the faint yellow lights near the horizon.

The Other Cities.

They were real, they really did exist. He was nearing one. He felt excitement burst in his veins, he wanted to run again, but his legs hurt to much, his heart was beating too fast.

He walked slowly, keeping his glaze on the lighted horizon, almost scared it was going to disappear if he looked in another direction. They were getting bigger as he continued his way, he was oh so close to his well-deserved liberty.

His legs trembled and he collapsed on the soaked mud. His muscles ached too much he could barely move at all. He tried crawling with his hands, fingers digging in the dirt, but in vain. He was stopped, once again, so close to his desire.

Jungkook turned to lay on his back, staring up at the stars that seemed to share his melancholy. They weren’t screaming his name anymore, nor smiling. The sky was starting to change color, probably announcing the sun’s arrival.

His chest was heaving up and down at a rapid pace, his heart trying to compensate from the large amount of energy he had just spent. He had no idea what time it was and for how long he ran, but it was simply futile now.

With everything that was left in his lungs, he parted his lips again to scream. It sounded different from his first scream, which irradiated strength and determination. This one came deep from his broken heart.

His vision clouded, as if the stars were being turned off one by one, he was tired and desperately needed sleep. When he closed his eyes, he felt like he was laying in the most comfortable bed of all.

And, right before blackness enveloped him, there was a faint yelling in the distance.

***

15 months later

So many things changed after the Matching Ceremony.

It wasn’t very long after that all the newly matched were announced their job, the one they would have chosen, the one that fitted them perfectly. We would receive at our house a letter in which the big news was announced. Jimin was almost jumping in happiness when he told me would be teaching dance to the school I studied at.

On my part, I was incredibly grateful they gave me a job at the Health Counseling office. I never had anything in mind for my future while studying, but my excellent grades paid off as it was a rather important work throughout the whole Society.

After that, there were only two months left before we would move to our future home, which went by quickly. I barely had time to breath twice before I was packing the truck that would bring me to my new home. My mother tried hard not to let any tears fall but she wasn’t able to, and so didn’t I.

Diving into our new adult life was a challenge we overcame with the help of each other. Jimin was an easy-going, fresh and energic person and I was surprised how well we lived together. We’d never spent more than two days in a row together, which was the two following days of the Matching Ceremony. Except from that, there were a couple of days from here and there. Though the more I spent time with him, the more I grew attached to him.

It didn’t prevent Jungkook from creeping in my mind from time to time, though. I concluded that he would just never leave my thoughts and I started accepting it that way. Sometimes I would walk around the busy streets and imagine him somewhere in the crowd. Every time I hoped I wouldn’t feel this tingle in my stomach while thinking he had finally come back, but I still felt it, even one year later….

…And even almost two years later. It had become an habit, but the more I grew used to it, the less I was able to hide my frowns every time his face would pop in my head. Which meant, it had become harder to hide these thoughts from Jimin.

“You didn’t seem happy at all today, Dayeon. Did something wrong happen?”

Jimin’s soft whispered brought me away from my daydreaming and I opened my eyes to look at him. The bedroom was pitch black but my eyes were accustomed to the darkness and it was easy to spot him beside me, staring with a frown.

I had, indeed, have a bad day. Since Jungkook was gone, the first day of September was a day I’d rather not know it existed. I just wanted it to pass as quickly as possible, so I wouldn’t constantly think of my best friend.

“It’s… It was Jungkook’s birthday, today.” I whispered back to him and closed my eyes again.

There wasn’t one’s birthday we wouldn’t spend with one another. Even though we did spend almost every day together, Jungkook and I had a special tradition of ours whenever it was one’s birthday.

It was my fifth or sixth birthday. For the event, my parents would invite their two friends and their son to celebrate. After a nice meal and a birthday cake, while the parents would go in the living room to talk, Jungkook and I would go in my bedroom to play.

“Dayeon-ah! Wait here, there’s something I want to show you!”

Jungkook, with a childish smile on his face, ran from my bedroom and went downstairs while I waited for him, sitting on my bed. He was back a couple of seconds later with his school bag in his arms and I frowned.

“What are you going to show to me? Your homework? It’s my birthday, I don’t want to help you with your maths!” I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest but my best friend simply giggled and sat beside me, holding his bag close to his chest, as if something precious was inside.

“Of course, it’s not homework, we’ll do them tomorrow since today is your birthday.” The boy said and slowly unzipped his bag. I leaned to try and sneak in but he brought it closer to him and pouted. “Close your eyes and put your hands on your lap.” He said and I nodded slowly, watching him for another second before doing what I was told.

I heard him unzip his bag some more before he took something out of it. I felt something like a piece cardboard on my lap and I frowned a bit. “Don’t open just yet!” He warned me, placing the thing correctly so it wouldn’t fall. A few seconds passed while everything stayed quiet.

“Okay, you can check now…” Jungkook’s voice was more quiet than it was earlier. When I finally opened my eyes, I looked down at the cardboard on my lap and gasped. I immediately smiled and sat more comfortably, elevating the object to my eyes level and staring at it.

On the piece of cardboard were glued so many pastas of different kinds. There were bow ones all around for decorations and longer ones that formed words. Words that made me feel weird in my stomach for the first time.

I ♥ Dayeon

From Kookie

When I finally looked back to him, my best friend was smiling nervously, playing with his fingers. “I hope you like it. I had to steal these dry pasta from school so I could make it for you. Happy birthday, Dayeon.”

I kept it hidden under my bed for years so my parents wouldn’t discover it and ask me questions about it. After that event, for each of our birthday, we tried to find something to do, something original for the other that no one would ever receive on their birthdays. Every year, this special gift stayed a secret between the two of us. It was our way of making the other feel special.

I felt Jimin’s hand caress my arm and I gasped, startled as I was harshly brought back to reality and away from the memory. When I turned to Jimin, I saw the pain in his eyes as he looked at me and I couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“I… I’m sorry, Jimin, I just can’t stop thinking about him, he’s been in my life for so long and-“

“It’s okay, Dayeon, it’s okay.” He whispered, attempting a smile, but there were still visible traces of sadness in his eyes.

I shifted on the mattress and got closer to him. He took me in his arms and I rested my head on his shoulder. His nose ruffled my hair as we hugged tightly. “I understand, Dayeon, it must be so hard for you. But sometimes in our life, we reach a point where it’s better to let go, and I’m here to help you go through this.” Jimin added before pressing a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll always be here by your side, because I love you.”

I held him a bit tighter and hid my face in the crook of his neck. “I love you too, Jimin, thank you.” I whispered and bit on my bottom lip. I did love him, I knew I did. I would have been worse if it wasn’t for him, who thoughtlessly caught me every time I’d risk falling. He was there to prop me back up on my feet and his gorgeous smile would convince me to go on and fight.

But it wasn’t just enough.

I would love Jimin from all my might, I knew I’d still feel like there was something missing.

We held like this for a little while, his hand moving up and down my back in a soothing motion while his lips would deposit a few kisses on my scalp. I was going to fall asleep in his embrace when I started hearing his breathing more distinctly, as if it was hard for him to inhale.

I opened my eyes and moved back a bit to look at him. He seemed asleep since he didn’t react to me moving away and I frowned a bit. “Jimin?” I called, nudging his shoulder. When I did, the sound of his breathing stopped. It wasn’t because he didn’t have difficulty anymore, but he just wasn’t breathing at all.

Startled, I sat up quickly and nudged him harder. “Jimin! Wake up!” I called louder until his eyes opened wide and he sat up, taking in a deep breath as he hadn’t for too long. When he tried to exhale, it transformed into coughing and he reached to grab tissues. His coughs didn’t seem normal, and when I looked at the tissues on his mouth, red patches were appearing on the white fabric.

“You’re bleeding!” I called to him and when his throat was finally freed he threw the tissues away and wiped his mouth before looking at my shocked face. He smiled to me reassuringly and shook his head.

“I’m okay.” He said, but I wasn’t convinced at all. He laid back down and it was my turn to shake my head.

“You just coughed blood, Jimin, you’re not okay. Is it the first time?” I asked him and he simply motioned me to lay back down beside him, which I did, but I wasn’t planning to stop the questions.

“It’s not.” He admitted, “But I don’t think it’s really important. I must have hurt my throat from screaming through the music during the dance classes.” He said and smiled at me. I wasn’t an ounce more convinced.

“You should go get checked. Do it quickly, you understand?” I told him and he simply chuckled before kissing my nose.

“Yes, doctor, I understand.” Jimin whispered, pulling me closer again. “I’ve been busy, but I’ll go when I have free time. It’s probably nothing to worry about anyways, it happens sometimes and I’m still top shape.”

I wanted to believe him, so I just did for the moment. It’s not like Society hadn’t already eradicated every sickness from the area. Things such as cancers or mortal diseases were long gone from the population, so we had nothing to worry about. Things we would catch from time to time were never really important -it was my job to treat these, but with a pill or two, they always disappeared.

In our Society, every one had the right to a long, meaningful, and peaceful life.

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violetsystems · 5 years ago

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Since the first person took two Edison cylinders home to their log cabin and put them in the top shelf of their chifferobe, record organization has been a logistical problem for everyone who collects records. Once you seriously start collecting a musical medium—be that MP3s even—how to organize that musical medium in a way that you can find that right song and record at the right time becomes a full time job (well, at least part time, weekends only).

But there’s very little practical advice on how to organize your records. Each record collector is treated as an island: you figure out how to organize your records on your own, without any guidance. So I’m here to help: I’ve assembled 10 different ways to organize your records, and laid out why a person would choose to organize their records that way, and followed that up with which people will find that method most amenable.

Option 1: You Don’t Organize Them At All

This option is the one that happens in the upside down, the darkest timeline, the version of history where Russia wins the Cold War, your mom and dad didn’t meet, and Bob Dylan died in that motorcycle crash. If you take this option, you are essentially saying that you crave disorder in your life, and you refuse to let logical human emotions and behaviors have any bearing on your day-to-day existence.

Best for: People whose appearance on a forthcoming season of Hoarders is already booked.

Option 2: You Organize By Genre

Spotify and Pandora and other algorithm based human experiences have taught us that humans like the novelty of having the art they appreciate broken down into tiny microgenres and labels that don’t actually have any bearing on the piece of art itself. So, you could choose to organize your records by genre, though that creates it own problem; how do you classify something like Purple Rain? How do you classify a 12-inch of Run-DMC’s “Walk This Way”?

Best for:If you are a soulless computer program organizing the record collection you got from your dad, Jeff Bridges in Tron: Legacy.

Option 3: You Alphabetize by First Name & Band Name

Alphabetizing something regarding your records is the most obvious and efficient way to organize your records. It’s how libraries are organized, and libraries are the shit (they have free books, and books are also the shit). This method is the province of people who like the obvious efficiency of alphabetization, but want to organize things like a maniac, where Kanye West sits next to Kings of Leon, and not Bill Withers (who’d be next to the Black Keys in this scenario). There is a way to be right, and awfully, maniacally wrong at the same time, and this is it.

Best for: The people who organize like this are like people who stayed in their rooms as the Titanic sank. They’re like “I swear, everything is going fine!” even as they get literally drowned by history.

Option 4: You Alphabetize by Album Title

This is self explanatory, and actually kind of a good idea, until you realize that this means having to remember the exact title of Our Love to Admire, instead of calling it “that sorta crappy third Interpol album.”

Best for: People who like album titles more than they like artist names; people who own Our Love to Admire and want to brag about it.

Option 5: You Organize Autobiographically

The High Fidelity nuclear option: you want to appreciate a movie that is actually super misunderstood (people seem to miss the point that judging someone based on what pop culture they like and consume is at least as bankrupt as basing someone’s value based on their looks) so you’re paying homage to John Cusack and his homie who ends up with the cool daughter from Roseanne at the end of the movie by organizing your records based on when you purchased/received them.

Here’s a video to explain this:

Best for: Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, John Cusack, people who have a memory like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, sociopaths.

Option 6: You Organize Chronologically

In this scenario, your records are organized based on the year they came out. This is a cool option, but also creates a weird level of organization conundrum: do you organize your copy of Rumours based on when the album itself came out, or when your club edition came out a couple years later? If you can look past that, and accept that your pressing will be messing up the chronology, this one should garner a lot of respect. This is a lifestyle as much as an organization technique.

Best for: People who are super good at making timelines; archivists.

Option 7: You Organize By Color

This is a trend for #shelfie enthusiasts the world over in the book world: organizing your collection not based on size, or genre, or alphabetically, but by the color of the spine. This method would be insane to see pulled off, but I don’t think it’s ever been attempted. I also suspect 74% of vinyl records have a black or white spine.

Best for: People who can see the full spectrum of the rainbow.

Option 8: You Organize by How Much Money the Record is Worth/You Paid For It

Look, a record collection is technically a commodity. It was bought, and it could be sold. What better way to celebrate that copy of Silent Alarm that sells for incongruent $95 on Discogs by putting it as the top slot of your record shelf. Conversely, it could be devastating to be constantly reminded you paid $300 for the first edition of 808s and Heartbreak only to see it’s value crater via a reissue. Though, that could also be a reminder that life is fleeting, and your relative value to society is only dependent on no reissues.

Best for: Business school graduates, Wall Street employees, people who check Discogs for record values as they crate dig, whoever is historically the opposite of Karl Marx.

Option 9: You Organize by Last Played

This is a fun one, but also feels just a shade removed from “not organized at all because I am a lunatic allowed to live among law-abiding citizens”: you organize based on when you’ve listened to the album last. The stuff you’ve listened to most recently goes all the way at the top, those Maynard Ferguson albums foisted upon you by your uncle will go all the way to the back. The challenge, of course, is finding the albums you forgot you own and suddenly decide you want to listen to.

Best for: People who own fewer than 10 records.

Option 10: You Alphabetize by Last Name & Band Name

This is, objectively, the only correct way to organize your records. Search your feelings: you know it to be true. It’s the way every record store on earth organizes records (after they organize by genre). If you walked into a library and things were organized solely by color, all hell would break loose. If you went to the courthouse to get a copy of your birth certificate, and they had to find it by your relative net worth, it’d take forever. This is how you know which way is right. Clint Black alongside Black Keys alongside Black Moth Super Rainbow. Fiona Apple next to Apples in Stereo. The thought of organizing my records any other way makes me break out into hives.

Best for: Everyone. Literally. Why don’t you organize like this?

#Alphabetize by First Name & Band Name

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lunapaper · 5 years ago

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Album Review: ‘Manic’ - Halsey

Halsey’s 2017 album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom was, well… utterly hopeless.

Based on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet (or more specifically, the 1997 movie adaptation), the record was a rather bloated, and unfocused set of algorithm-friendly tracks built around a rather flimsy narrative. For me, it was a definite sophomore slump.

Thankfully, her latest effort, Manic, sees the New Jersey-born singer (aka Ashley Frangipane) go back to basics in her most raw, revealing record yet.

Opener ‘Ashley’ is both a love letter to fans and a return to the past in order to leave it behind, intentionally invoking the hazy, pulsing bleeps first heard on her 2015 debut, Badlands. ‘Graveyard’ also revisits the sombre yet colourful pop glitch of her debut, balancing her obsessive lust atop rippling synths and softly lit acoustics.

While the intro track takes a soundbite of Kate Winslet’s character from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, ‘clementine’ is an all-out tribute (“I basically built my whole personality off of Clementine,” she told Rolling Stone in an interview last year). Though long part of the Holy Trinity of Tortured Pixie Dream Girls (alongside Effy from Skins and Ramona Flowers, of course), this track strips back the curtain – ‘Too many guys think I'm a concept’ - its piano and sluggish beat constantly shifting in an out of focus as if to mimic the highs and lows of her bipolar disorder as Frangipane insists: ‘Cause I don't need anyone/I don't need anyone/I just need everyone and then some.’

Like her previous two albums, heartbreak is something in which Halsey is well versed, though Manic is a lot more brutal in its specificity.

‘You should be sad’ – a gorgeously mellow country ballad with decent crossover appeal – has her fire back at an ex (presumably G-Eazy): ‘You're not half the man you think that you are/And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars/I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you/'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you.’ ‘Finally // beautiful stranger’ is weathered folk tortured by first love, while ‘I HATE EVERYBODY’ has Frangipane confront her propensity for infatuation. The rapper also cops a serve on the slinky RnB feel of ‘Without Me,’ released all the way back in October 2018, though it still manages to hold up without sounding too obnoxiously trap, reminding him: ‘You know I'm the one who put you up there/Name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?’

Throughout Manic, Halsey turns her vulnerability into her greatest strength, translating into an even stronger second half.

‘killing boys’ quotes another cult movie classic with 2009’s Jennifer’s Body, a revenge fantasy set against a moody, minimalist thrum that’s devilishly fun but criminally short. ‘Alanis’ Interlude’ (with the 90s icon herself), is a female empowerment and bisexual love anthem making great use of a Brand New sample, featuring the line ‘Your pussy is a wonderland.’ Speaking of which, ‘3AM’ sees Halsey receive kudos from ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland’ songwriter John Mayer as she struggles to cope during the witching hour (‘I keep on hanging on the line, ignoring every warning sign/Come on and make me feel alright again’). 15 year old me would be so goddamn jealous right now… It’s also the 00s pop rock revival we deserve.

‘More,’ however, is simply heartbreaking. A ghostly, neo-gospel ode to a child not yet born, the singer discusses her battle with endometriosis in stark, uncomfortably vivid detail. You can feel her desperation, her hopelessness cling to each and every word. Like the piano ballad ‘Sorry’ from Hopeless Fountain Kingdom, it’s a frank late-album entry that cuts all too deep.

Ending with a thorough examination of events on the sparse ‘929,’ Manic makes for a truly redemptive experience. Though still a little long at times like its predecessor, Halsey’s third outing leaves her with nowhere to hide with its brutal analysis of fear, angst, paranoia, fame and all-consuming love.

Where Badlands was both revered and reviled for being a Manic Pixie Tumblr pop dream, Manic is Halsey at her most refreshingly human, eschewing aesthetics to craft wistful, incredible storytelling and running not only the gamut of emotions, but also genres, ranging from hip hop, trap, pop rock, country, 90s indie, folk and even K-Pop, collaborating with BTS’ SUGA on ‘SUGA’s Interlude.’ Despite her anxieties, Halsey’s has never sounded so confident, her creative vision clear and evenly paced. It’s the singer finally growing into her own.

Though Manic doesn’t see her defeat her demons, it’s the dawning of a new era, nonetheless. As Halsey told fans via Twitter back in March 2019:

‘Writing this album has been a lesson in forgiving myself. In being proud of myself and kind to myself despite how much this world is designed to make you hate yourself. I hope when it’s finally in your hands it brings you that same peace. It’s not a quiet peace. It’s a loud one.’

- Bianca B.

#music #halsey #manic #new #reviews #albums #Bianca B

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magzoso-tech · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://magzoso.com/tech/technologists-are-creating-artificial-intelligence-to-help-us-tap-into-our-humanity-heres-how-and-why/

Technologists Are Creating Artificial Intelligence to Help Us Tap Into Our Humanity. Here's How (and Why).

New AI tools like Cogito aim to remind us how to be ‘human,’ issuing reminders and alerts for empathy and compassion.

December 31, 2019 15+ min read

When being empathetic is your full-time job, burning out is only human.

Few people are more aware of this than customer service representatives, who are tasked with approaching each conversation with energy and compassion — whether it’s their first call of the day or their 60th. It’s their job to make even the most difficult customer feel understood and respected while still providing them accurate information. Oftentimes that’s a tall order, resulting in frustration on both ends of the call.

But over the last few years, an unlikely aide has come forward: artificial intelligence tools designed to help people tap into and maintain “human” characteristics like empathy and compassion.

One of these tools is a platform called Cogito, named for the famous Descartes philosophy Cogito, ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”). It’s an AI platform that monitors sales and service calls for large corporations (among them, MetLife and Humana) and offers employees real-time feedback on customer interactions.

During a call, an employee may see Cogito pop-up alerts on their screen encouraging them to display more empathy, increase their vocal energy, speak more slowly or respond more quickly. Interactions are scored and tracked on internal company dashboards, and managers can gauge, instantly, what different members of their team may need to work on.

As a call center representative in MetLife’s disability insurance department, Conor Sprouls uses Cogito constantly. On a typical day, he takes anywhere from 30 to 50 calls. Each one lasts between five and 45 minutes, depending on the complexity of the issue.

Sprouls’s first caller on the morning of Sept. 12, 2019, was someone with an anxiety disorder, and Cogito pinged Sprouls once with a reminder to be empathetic and a few times for being slow to respond (not uncommon when looking for documentation on someone’s claim, explains Sprouls).

When Cogito first rolled out, some employees were concerned about constant supervisor oversight and notification overload. They were getting pinged too often about the empathy cue, for example, and at one point, the tool thought a representative and a customer were talking over each other when they were in fact sharing a laugh. But Sprouls says that the system gets more intuitive with every call. As for over-supervision, call center conversations are always recorded and sent to supervisors, so it’s not much of a change.

In fact, Cogito may even offer a more realistic reflection of performance, says Sprouls. “A supervisor can’t be expected to listen to every single call for each of their associates, so sometimes when we’re just choosing calls at random, it could be luck of the draw — one associate could be monitored on an easy call, and another could be monitored on a hard one,” he says. “Cogito is going to give you the end result: who needs to work on what. I think the way a lot of us really look at Cogito is as a personal job coach.”

MetLife has been using Cogito for about two years, though it was first introduced in a pilot capacity.

Emily Baker, a MetLife supervisor with a team of about 17, says that her associates all benefited from Cogito’s cues during the pilot process. She says one associate’s favorite was the energy cue; he’d start slouching in his seat at the end of the day, and the posture meant he didn’t project his voice as much. When the energy cue appeared (a coffee cup icon), he sat up straight and spoke more energetically so that he appeared more engaged in the call.

“I like the fact that I can see overall, on my particular supervisor dashboard, how we’re doing as a team, if there are any trends,” Baker says. “Is everybody speaking over the caller? Is everybody having trouble with dead air? You can drill down into each person, and it’s really good for coaching one-on-one.”

Now, MetLife is in the process of rolling out Cogito across even more of its customer-facing departments — claims, direct sales, customer growth. The company also plans to more than double the number of employees using the platform (from 1,200 to over 3,000).

“It’s a little bit of a strange dynamic,” says Kristine Poznanski, head of global customer solutions at MetLife. “We’re using technology and artificial intelligence to help our associates demonstrate more human behavior. It’s something you don’t intuitively think about.”

A growing trend

At his consulting job in the New Zealand Department of Child and Family, Josh Feast, co-founder and CEO of Cogito, says he learned that social workers could experience burnout in as few as three to five years. He was shocked by the irony — that a profession designed to care for people wasn’t conducive to caring for the people in that profession.

An idea began to form, and it took further shape after a course at MIT’s Media Lab, during which Feast had a key revelation: Big organizations understand data well, so if he wanted to help people inside a large organization, he needed to present his idea in a language the corporate team could understand. “It was almost like being hit by a lightning strike,” he says.

And so Cogito was born. In the R&D phase, Feast and his co-founder worked for DARPA, the U.S. government’s Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. The agency had in mind soldiers struggling with PTSD, and DARPA provided the Cogito team with funding to research aid for psychological distress. So Feast began studying how nurses interacted with patients.

“There was a real ‘aha’ moment where we discovered that if you could use that technology to understand the conversation — and to measure the conversational dance between nurse and patient — you could start getting a read of the degree of empathy and compassion they displayed … and the resulting attitude the patient had to that interaction,” says Feast.

He built dashboards to display measures of compassion and empathy, and he found something noteworthy: When people were given real-time feedback while speaking with someone, levels of compassion and empathy during the conversation improved. That realization was the key to Cogito’s future.

But Cogito isn’t the only AI-powered tool aiming to help us tap into our humanity.

Butterfly

There’s Butterfly, an AI tool that aims to help managers empathize with their employees and increase workplace happiness. After Butterfly is embedded into a workplace messaging system, it functions as a chatbot — executive-coaching managers in real-time based on employee surveys and feedback. Butterfly analyzes the latter to measure levels of stress, collaboration, conflict, purpose, creativity and the like. Then, it provides managers with calls to action and reading materials to help them deal with problems on their team. For example, an executive with a highly-stressed team might receive an article on how to create a more compassionate work environment.

“In a nutshell, Butterfly was created in order to help managers to be on point when it comes to their… team’s level of engagement and overall happiness,” says co-founder and CEO David Mendlewicz. “Think about an AI-driven happiness assistant or AI-driven leadership coach.”

Supportiv

Another AI-powered empathy tool is Supportiv, a peer counseling platform aiming to use natural language processing to take on daily mental health struggles such as work stress, anxiety, loneliness and conflicts with loved ones. Seconds after a user answers Supportiv’s primary question �� “What’s your struggle?” — they’re sorted into an anonymous, topic-specific peer support group.

Each group has a trained live moderator (who is also equipped to refer specialized or emergency services as needed), and an AI algorithm scans conversations to detect mood, tone, engagement and interaction patterns. On the moderator’s side, prompts pop up — user X hasn’t contributed to the conversation in a while, or user Y shared a thought above that hasn’t been addressed. Co-founder Helena Plater-Zyberk’s vision for Supportiv’s next iteration: additional AI advances that could help identify isolated users in chats and alert moderators with suggestions on how to be more empathetic towards those individuals.

The aim, says Plater-Zyberk, is to create “superhuman moderators” — using compassion, empathy and hyper-alertness to facilitate a group chat better than any normally-equipped human.

IBM’s Project Debater

Finally, when it comes to the theory “I think, therefore I am,” IBM’s Project Debater fits the bill. Introduced by the tech giant in January, it’s billed as the first AI system that can debate complex ideas with humans. At its core, Debater is about rational thinking and empathy — considering opposing points of view and understanding an opponent enough to be able to address their argument piece-by-piece and ultimately win them over.

Dr. Aya Soffer, vice president of AI tech at IBM Research, envisions a variety of real-world applications for Debater — a policymaker who wants to understand the range of implications for a law they’re considering. For example, in the case of banning phones from schools (a law the French government passed in 2018), what are the precedents, the pros and cons, the arguments on both sides of the equation? A financial analyst or investment advisor might use Debater to make smart projections about what a new type of technology may or may not mean for the market.

We typically look for supporting arguments in order to convince ourselves, or someone else, of something. But Soffer says that taking counterarguments into account could be even more powerful, whether to change a mind or strengthen a pre-existing view. That kind of empathy and higher-level logical thinking is something IBM Debater aims to help with.

Pitfalls and privacy

As is the case with all new technology, this type has some concerning use cases.

First, there’s the potential for system bias in the data used to train the algorithm. For example, if it’s taught using cases of predominantly white men expressing empathy, that could yield a system that charts lower output for women and minorities. A call center representative with a medical condition might display less energy than the perceived norm but does their best to make up for it in other ways.

That’s why it’s a good idea for individuals to be provided this data before it’s shared with their supervisors, says Rosalind Picard, founder and director of the Affective Computing Research Group at the MIT Media Lab. She believes it’s a breach of ethics to share data on an employee’s interactions, such as levels of compassion, empathy and energy, with a manager first.

And then there’s the temptation for this type of technology to go beyond its intended use case — a helpful reminder to facilitate a genuine connection — and instead serve as a driver for insincere interactions fueled by fear. After all, similar tech tools are part of the foundation of social ratings systems (think Black Mirror‘s “Nosedive” episode). In 2020, China plans to debut publicly available social credit scores for every citizen. That score will help determine an individual’s eligibility for an apartment, which travel deals they’re offered, which schools they may enroll their children in and even whether they can see a hospital doctor without lining up to pay first.

Within the next five years, experts predict we’ll make great strides in “sentiment analysis” — a type of natural language processing that identifies human emotions by analyzing facial expressions and body language or text responses.

But for Noah Goodman, associate professor at Stanford University’s Computation and Cognition Lab, there’s a moral dilemma involved: What’s the right thing to do with the information these systems learn? Should they have goals — prompt us, adjust our environments or send us tools to make us feel happier, more compassionate, more empathetic? What should the technology do with data on our feelings towards someone else, our performance in any given interaction? And who should it make that information available to? “This is a place where the creepiness boundary is always close,” says Goodman.

Another problem? AI simply can’t replicate, or fully comprehend, human emotion. Take Cogito, for example. Let’s say you’re a customer service representative on the phone with customers all day, and you receive an alert that you’re sounding low-energy and tired instead of high-energy and alert. That doesn’t mean you’re actually feeling tired, says Picard, and that’s an important distinction to make.

“It doesn’t know how I feel,” says Picard. “It has no consciousness — it’s simply saying that to this system listening to your vocal quality, compared to your usual vocal quality and compared to other people on the phone at this company’s vocal quality, here is how you might sound, according to the data we’ve collected… It’s not to say you are that way.”

There’s a misunderstanding that we’re already at the point where AI effectively understands human feelings, rather than just being able to analyze data and recognize patterns related to them. The phrase “artificial intelligence” itself may propagate that misunderstanding, says Picard, so to avoid fueling public fear about the future of AI, she recommends calling it software instead.

“As soon as we call the software ‘AI,’ a lot of people think it’s doing more than it is,” she says. “When we say the machine ‘learns’ and that it’s ‘learned something’ what we mean is that we’ve trained a big chunk of mathematics to take a bunch of inputs and make a mathematical function that produces a set of outputs with them. It doesn’t ‘learn’ or ‘know’ or ‘feel’ or ‘think’ anything like any of us do. It’s not alive.”

Implications and regulations

Some experts believe there will come a day when technology will be able to understand and replicate “uniquely human” characteristics. The idea falls under the “computational theory of the mind” — that the brain is a dedicated tool for processing information, and even complex emotions like compassion and empathy can be charted as data. But even if that’s true, there’s a difference between experiencing emotion and understanding it — and in Goodman’s view, it’ll one day be entirely possible to build AI systems that have a good understanding of people’s emotions without actually experiencing emotions themselves.

There’s also the idea that throughout the course of history, fear has often accompanied the release of new technology. “We’re always afraid of something new coming out, specifically if it has a large technological component,” says Mendlewicz. “Exactly the same fear rose up when the first telegraph came… and when the telegraph was replaced by the phone, people were also expressing fear… about [it] making us less human — having to communicate to a machine.”

One of the most important questions to ask: How do we avoid this being used to alienate people or to create more distance between human beings?

One prime example is social media platforms, which were introduced to augment human connectivity but paradoxically ended up as tools of polarization. “What we’ve learned from that is that human connectivity and the humanity of technology should not be assumed; it needs to be cultivated,” says Rumman Chowdhury, who leads Accenture’s Responsible AI initiative. “Instead of figuring out how we fit around technology, we need to figure out how technology fits around us.”

That also means watching out for red flags, including the tech “solutionism” fallacy — the idea that technology can solve any and all of humanity’s problems. Although it can’t do that, technology can point out things we need to focus on in order to work towards more overarching solutions.

“We as human beings have to be willing to do the hard work,” says Chowdhury. “Empathy doesn’t just happen because an AI told you to be more empathetic … [Let’s say] I create an AI to read through your emails and tell you if you sound kind enough and, if not, fix your emails for you so that you sound kind. That doesn’t make your a nicer person; it doesn’t make you more empathetic… The creation of any of this AI that involves improving human beings needs to be designed very thoughtfully, so that human beings are doing the work.”

Some of that work involves building systems to regulate this type of AI before it’s widespread, and experts have already begun floating ideas.

For any AI tool, Chris Sciacca, communications manager for IBM Research, would like to see an “AI Fact Sheet” that functions like a nutrition label on a loaf of bread, including data such as who trained the algorithm, when and which data they used. It’s a way to look “under the hood” — or even inside the black box — of an AI tool, understand why it might have come to a certain conclusion and remember to take its results with a grain of salt. He says IBM is working on standardizing and promoting such a practice.

Picard suggests regulations akin to those for lie detection tests, such as the Federal Employee Polygraph Protection Act, passed in 1988. Under a similar law, it stands to reason that employers would be unable to require AI communication monitoring tools, with few exceptions — and that even in those cases, they couldn’t monitoring someone without informing them about the technology and their rights.

Spencer Gerrol, CEO of Spark Neuro — a neuroanalytics company that aims to measure emotion and attention for advertisers — says the potential implications for this kind of empathetic AI keep him up at night. Facebook may have created “amazing” tech, he says, but it also contributed to meddling in the U.S. elections. And when it comes to devices that can read emotions based on your brain activity, consequences could be even more dire, especially since much of emotion is subconscious. That means that one day, a device could feasibly be more “aware” of your emotions than you yourself are. “The ethics of that will become complex,” says Gerrol, especially once advertisers attempt to persuade individuals to take action by leveraging what’s known about their emotions.

As for the founder of Cogito himself? Feast believes that over the next five to 10 years, AI tools will split into two categories:

Virtual agents that complete tasks on our behalf.

Intelligent augmentation, or services built around reinforcing or extending our own human capabilities.

Feast envisions more of a meld between man and machine, tools that we’ll deem necessary to help us perform the way we want to in particular settings. These types of tools, he says, will “extend and reinforce our humanness.”

#Miscellaneous

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marketingcomcaio · 6 years ago

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The Real Secret to My Social Media Success

The other day I was recording a podcast episode with my co-host Eric Siu and he wanted to discuss something in particular.

He wanted to talk about how I got to 62,000 Instagram followers in a very short period of time and without spending any money on ads or marketing.

Eric is a great marketer as well, and when it comes to social media, he spends much more time than me on it and he even has people at his ad agency dedicated to helping him grow his personal brand online.

And of writing this post, he has 4,056 followers.

It’s not just with Instagram either, I beat him on all platforms.

Heck, he even does something that I don’t do, which is smart… he continually pays for advice. For example, he had his team jump on an hour call with Gary Vaynerchuk’s social media team so they could learn from them and grow his brand faster.

So, what’s the secret to my success?

Well, before I get into it, let me first start off by saying I love Eric to death and the point of this post isn’t to pick on him or talk crap… more so, I have a point to make and you’ll see it in a bit below.

Is it the fundamentals?

Everyone talks about strategies to grow your social following… from going live and posting frequently or talking about the type of content you should post and what you shouldn’t do.

I could even tell you that you need to respond to every comment and build up a relationship with your followers, which will help you grow your following and brand.

And although all of this is true, I dare you to try the fundamentals or the strategies that every marketing guru talks about doing. If you do, I bet this will happen…

It will be a lot of work and, if you are lucky, in the next 30 days you may get 10% more followers.

Sure, some of you will get much more growth, but you’ll find that you can’t always replicate it and it won’t be consistent.

So, what is it then?

Is it luck?

Luck is part of some people’s success, but not most. The problem with luck is it doesn’t teach you much and it isn’t easy to replicate.

The reality is, some people will just get lucky and have tons of traction.

In other words, luck isn’t the secret. But if you do want to get “luckier”, then you can always become an early adopter which helps a bit.

How early is early?

When you jump onto a social network when it’s new, it’s easier to grow and become popular.

For example, I got to over 30,000 Twitter followers extremely fast when Twitter first came out.

At that time, I wasn’t as well known… it happened because of a few reasons:

Social algorithms are favorable early on – algorithms are typically favorable and most people will see your content. There aren’t many restrictions, hence it’s easier to grow. After a social network becomes popular, algorithms tighten up.

Algorithms are easier to game early on – when you are early, you can use a lot of hacks to grow faster. For example, on Twitter, I would just follow tons of people a day and unfollow anyone who didn’t follow me back.

First movers’ advantage – social networks want more users, that’s what they need to succeed. In the early stages of any platform, they want to help you gain more of a following so you will keep using their platform.

But here is the thing: even though being an early adopter helps, it’s not the secret to my success.

Just look at Instagram, I am really late to the game. But I started growing fast just this year as that is when we really started.

If you can get in early, you should do so, assuming you have the time to invest. For example, this is the time to get in on Tiktok.

When you get in early, there is always the chance that the social network may end up flopping. But if it does take off, you’ll be ahead of your competition.

So what did I do?

Here was the secret to my growth… and it still works today. Eric Siu is even doing it with me right now.

It’s piggybacking on brands that are already popular.

When I first started, no one knew who I was. And I’m not saying everyone knows who I am today… by no means do I have a large brand like Tony Robbins.

What I did early on in my career was piggyback off of other popular brands.

For example, I hit up Pete Cashmore from Mashable, Michael Arrington from TechCrunch, Adrianna Huffington from Huffington Post, and so many other popular sites like ReadWriteWeb, Business Insider, Gawker Media, and GigaOm to name just a few.

I know some of them don’t exist anymore, but back then they were extremely popular. Anyone who was in tech, and even some who weren’t, knew about each of those sites.

So, when I got started as a marketer, I hit up all of those sites and offered all of them free marketing in exchange for promoting my brand and adding “Marketing done by Neil Patel” or “Marketing done by Pronet”, which was my ad agency back then.

Just look at the image above. TechCrunch used to link to my site on every page of their site… forget rich anchor text, it really is all about branding.

The hardest part is, I had to email and message these influencers dozens of times just to convince them to let me help them for free. And a lot of them ignored me or didn’t accept my offer.

But of a few said yes.

Pete from Mashable was one of the first to say yes. Once his traffic and rankings skyrocketed, his competition hit me up. Especially TechCrunch.

What was funny, though, is that I was constantly emailing TechCrunch and didn’t hear back. 6 months from my first email, they eventually accepted my offer.

I made a deal with Michael Arrington at the time in which once I boosted his traffic, he would add a logo that I did marketing for him, which you saw above.

In addition to that, he would tell all of his venture capital friends what I did for him and share the results (so hopefully they would share it with their portfolio companies, which would help me make money) and write a blog post about me.

He didn’t end up writing the blog post, which is fine, but he did the other two.

When he sent out emails to VCs showing a Google Analytics graph of his traffic growing at a rapid pace, I quickly got inundated with inquiries about my marketing services.

In addition to that, I was building up my brand… and my social media following. I was gaining “social clout” because I was doing good work for influencers.

One could argue that boosting traffic for someone like TechCrunch by 30% is worth millions and I should have charged for my services. Although I spent countless time doing free work, I wouldn’t trade it for any single dollar as it is what made me and helped build up my reputation.

And I didn’t stop there. Even today, I try to associate myself with other popular brands. Just like how I was lucky enough to work with Robert Herjavec, who has a popular TV show in the US along with Mark Cuban…

Here’s how many visitors I was getting for my name “Neil Patel” on a monthly basis before I started working with Robert.

And this is how many visitors I get for my name on a monthly basis a few months after I worked with Robert.

That’s a 37.84% increase in a matter of months!

By piggybacking off of popular brands, it doesn’t just help my website traffic but also helps to grow my social media following as well.

Just like as you can see below with my Instagram growth…

Now it isn’t just me who can do this, anyone can.

How can you piggyback off of other brands?

Just like how I piggybacked off of brands like TechCrunch, Eric is doing something similar to me at the moment.

We have a podcast that generates over 1 million downloads a month.

Eric’s had a podcast for years, but the one he has with me has more than 10x the listeners. This has helped him grow his brand a lot over the last year.

Let’s just look at the data. According to Eric, due to the podcast, he has signed up 6 clients, which has generated 540,000 dollars in annual revenue.

Now when he goes to tech conferences, 3 to 4 people tend to come up to him and mention how they love Marketing School and his work. In addition to that, it has been easier for Eric to set up meetings (people respond back to him more now), and he is also getting advisory shares in companies due to his growing brand. And the best part is, he is getting more paid speaking gigs for up to $10,000 a pop because of the podcast.

The data shows it was a good move by Eric for partnering up with me. He pushed me to do a podcast years ago and I told him no because I was too lazy. He didn’t give up though. Eventually, he got me to say yes and flew to my house in Las Vegas to record our first episode.

He did all of the work and it has been a great mutual relationship as doing this podcast has also helped grow my brand at the same time.

Now you are probably thinking, why isn’t his follower count growing fast enough?

Well, he needs to do what he is doing with me with a few more influencers to really put fuel to the fire. Just like how I didn’t only piggyback off of TechCrunch… at one point the Gawker Media network was linking to me on every page of their sites, which was seen by over 100 million unique people per month.

That really gets your brand out there!

Another example is Brian Dean from Backlinko as he did something similar with me back in the day. Years ago I approached him to write a detailed guide on link building with him and he also created videos that were on my old marketing blog Quick Sprout, which helped him grow his brand.

I can’t take credit for “making” Eric or Brian successful. They would have done well without me… and in the grand scheme of things, I really didn’t do much for either of them.

It’s like saying TechCrunch made the Neil Patel brand. Of course, it helped, and helped a lot… but one partnership won’t make or break you.

And if I didn’t continually blog, create videos, speak at events, or do any of the other stuff that I did, the TechCrunch partnership wouldn’t have been as effective.

Eric and Brian would have grown their brand in other ways because their work stands for itself, hence they would have been successful on their own. I just helped provide a little boost, just like how TechCrunch provided me with a boost.

And once more people get to know you, you’ll naturally do better on the social web.

For example, when Will Smith created his Instagram account, he didn’t have to buy ads or anything. Everyone just knows him already and that’s why his Instagram account blew up really quickly.

And you can do what Will Smith did on a smaller scale. Similar to what I did.

But don’t expect it overnight. Will Smith has been on television for over 20 years. It’s multiple shows, movies, and connections with other famous people that have really helped grow Will’s brand.

Of course, we won’t get on TV as Will has, but you can piggyback on other popular brands multiple times to create a similar (smaller) effect.

All you have to do is help these influencers out for free.

If you are a web designer, offer design services. If you are a marketer, offer marketing services. If you are selling a product or service, keep giving it away for free and maybe someone will talk about your company.

If you don’t have anything you can offer that has value, just look at whatever influencer you want to associate with, see where they may need help, learn that skill, and offer it for free.

It’s the easiest way to become popular on the social web.

Conclusion

That’s my secret to being popular on the social web.

It’s also how I built a decent size company… purely by leveraging other popular brands in the early days.

You can do the same, but you have to be patient. Don’t expect it to happen overnight.

For example, Eric’s brand has been growing but we have been doing a podcast together for over 2 years now.

Plus, he continually pushes on his own and doesn’t just rely on leveraging other influencers.

Remember, nothing worthwhile happens overnight.

You have to be persistent with your emails, your direct messages, your text messages, and whatever else you can do to get a hold of these influencers. Most will ignore you but it is a numbers game and, eventually, you’ll be able to associate your brand with someone popular, which will grow your brand.

And last but not least: Don’t expect an influencer to make you successful. Sure, multiple influencers are better than one, but that’s not what I meant.

If Brian Dean from Backlinko wasn’t good at link building, creating content, SEO, and educating, he wouldn’t do well… no matter who he associated himself with. The same goes for Eric.

Your skills, your abilities, your product… whatever you are trying to brand needs to stand on its own.

So, what do you think about my secret? Are you going to copy it?

The post The Real Secret to My Social Media Success appeared first on Neil Patel.

The Real Secret to My Social Media Success Publicado primeiro em https://neilpatel.com

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lafaiette · 8 years ago

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Give Yourself To Harmony - 4 / ?

This huge alien who looks like a chubby, purple potato, this loud man who is part of the newest alien species just discovered in Heleus, this angara who expresses himself so freely and openly just like the rest of his species, is his sister’s boyfriend.

Her first boyfriend, since her nerd ass never found someone intelligent enough to understand how special she is.

At least, that means this weird guy is clever.

In which Scott Ryder finally meets Jaal Ama Darav, his sister’s boyfriend. It will take him a while to get used to this.

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3

Also on AO3

Warning: this fic contains spoilers of the game, the ending, and the post-game content!

“Ryder,” SAM’s voice says, interrupting her dreams, “it is 0800 and Kallo wants you to know we have arrived at destination.”

She groans, rolling on her back; it’s a bit difficult, considering Jaal’s limbs are practically glued to her body and his embrace is so tight she can barely move.

He is snoring against her hair: if the sound was at first disconcerting and a bit deafening, now she can’t sleep without hearing it.

He even talks in his sleep sometimes, like the Moshae told her: random mumblings that don’t really make sense, but sometimes he also pronounces her name and calls her or asks her silly questions.

She actually writes them down whenever she hears them and later shows them to him; some make sense and reveal his interest for topics he must have thought about for a long time, but didn’t find the time or willpower to ask her directly.

Others are… special.

The silliest one was probably “did you ever cry watching a vid?”. She showed him which movies had made her bawl her eyes out in the past and she promised they would watch them all together.

The sweetest one was “how can I ask you to marry me without offending you?”

She didn’t tell him about that one, but she holds it dear in her heart, waiting for the day when he will find out the answer for himself and act.

Today he isn’t talking, just snoring and snorting, but he refuses to let her go when she tries to get off the bed.

“Thank you, SAM.” she whispers, not wanting to wake him up abruptly. “Are the others awake?”

“Kallo and Gil worked for most of the night as usual.” the AI says. “Cora and Suvi are on the bridge, Drack and Peebee are eating breakfast in the galley, Liam and Vetra are in the cargo bay, Scott and Lexi in the med bay.” A pause, then he adds slowly: “My responses tend to slow down when I use the crew’s first names, but you are right. It feels more familiar, this way.”

“Of course it does.” she smiles affectionately. “You can’t keep calling your family with their second names, SAM.”

“I agree. I noticed a change in their behavior too. Liam and Peebee call me Sammy sometimes.”

“If you start giving us nicknames too, I’m sure Dad will shed tears of happiness from up there.”

“I’m not sure my humor algorithms have developed so much. Playful nicknames depend on one’s talent to find amusing or endearing characteristics in another person’s appearance or personality and turn them into a funny, inoffensive name.”

Chloe manages to sit up, although Jaal’s arms and legs instinctively tighten around her, anchoring her to the bed. She starts caressing the arm draped over her stomach, watching intently the holographic figure of the AI on her desk.

“SAM, I doubt you could ever offend us.” She grins, even bouncing a little. “Come on, try it with me! What nickname would you give me?”

She never thought she would have a conversation about nicknames with an AI while in bed with her alien boyfriend, in their comfy room illuminated only by the stars outside.

For a second, it all reminds her of those vaporwave songs she and Scott always listened to while studying.

If SAM could stutter, he would probably do it right now. Instead, he just stays quiet longer than usual and then he says, very slowly: “I’d call you Static.”

“Well.” She blinks, then frowns, thinking about the reason behind such a choice. “That’s original. Why would you call me like that? Jaal is the one with the electromagnetic abilities.”

“That’s right.”

She scratches her head, not really sure she understands, and then she does.

Her hair. Like every morning, it’s sticking out in all directions, thanks to Jaal’s electric waves she constantly sleeps next to.

“Oh!” She beams at SAM’s round figure, hoping he can sense her pride. “SAM! That was a cool joke!”

“Thank you, Ryder.” SAM sounds almost smug and even a little bit flattered, but maybe it’s just her imagination. “I still need some time to think about good nicknames for the rest of the crew.”

“Please, do. I want to hear the one for Jaal.” Speaking of him, he’s still snoring like there is no tomorrow. His arm moved and his hand is now on her belly, warm and broad.

“Come on, honey.” she whispers, kissing his cheek while trying to get untangled. “It’s time to wake up.”

But he looks way too content and adorable, so she decides to let him sleep a little more. She manages to get out of bed and find her clothes they threw on the floor the night before.

Her breasts and the space between her legs still ache in that pleasant, soft way that speaks of how delicate and gentle Jaal is. She dresses slowly, blushing while she thinks about last night, Jaal thrusting into her and moaning words of love in her ear as she gasped and called his name.

She is about to tie her hair in the usual ponytail, the one she makes without even using an elastic band or ribbon, but then she changes her mind and lets it flow down her shoulders. They are not going into battle today, so she can keep it free for once.

She isn’t used to the feeling and it’s weird to look down and see the brown curtain follow the movement of her head and even block her line of vision. But Jaal loves her hair and she saw his face when he looked at that old picture of her with the pigtails.

“SAM, do you think I would look good with a different hairstyle?” She rubs her neck, suddenly self-conscious. “When I don’t have to fight, I mean. It would be nice to change it once in a while, at least here on the Tempest or on the Nexus.”

“I’m not an expert about human hairstyles and my opinion wouldn’t be much helpful.” SAM gently replies. “I suppose Alec never thought such knowledge would benefit me and our work.”

“Yeah, of course.” She looks at the mirror that popped up on the console of the wardrobe when she approached it.

She brushes two locks of hair fallen near her eyes with her fingers, staring critically at her reflection, then she takes a red hairclip shaped like a star and ties those locks behind her head: this way her hair is still let loose, but she managed to style it in a more tidied up way.

To be honest, she never felt beautiful. When she was little, some human kids at her school used to mock her looks, saying her nose was too big and her lips too full, and those comments stuck with her ever since.

Letting her hair frame her face like this would highlight all those flaws, she thinks, but she also admits she looks older and more sophisticated this way, almost elegant, sort of like Mom was.

You are more lovely than anyone I have ever known, in body and in spirit.

If Jaal told her that, it must be true, so she believes him and goes for it, brushing the tip of her hair with the comb one last time before going back to the bed and kissing his cheek.

He makes her feel gorgeous every day and she almost doesn’t know how to show the full extent of her gratefulness.

“SAM, please, wake him up in… let’s say, five minutes.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at her boyfriend, then at her reflection in the mirror and moves to leave her room.

Before she steps into the corridor, SAM says: “That hairstyle suits you, Chloe.”

She laughs and smiles at AI, nodding.

“Thank you, SAM.”

There is no time for a shower, so she goes straight to the galley to eat something and make sure Jaal’s favorite nutrient paste is still there and hasn’t been entirely used by Suvi for her weird culinary experiments.

“Who the hell are you?” Drack’s amused voice asks her as soon as she enters, the krogan’s eyes quick and attentive as always. Peebee, busy munching some of those dry cookies she likes so much, is slower, but when she finally raises her head and sees Ryder through bleary eyes, she gasps.

“By the Goddess!” she exclaims, in a fake high-pitched voice. “Ryder! You look so cute!”

“She’s right, kid. You look great.”

“Aw, thanks.” she laughs, fidgeting on the spot. She wonders if make-up would be too much, but then she changes her mind. It has never really been her strong suit and she doesn’t want to ruin this humble, but decent result by painting her poor face clumsily.

“Jaal won’t stop touching it for the whole day.” the asari cackles, wiggling her eyebrows, then she gasps again, an idea forming in her restless mind: “Oh! Remember your pigtails? I saw a human wear them differently once! She kept them on the front, not the back, though.”

“Yeah?” Ryder opens the pantry and sees that the paste is still there, much to her relief. She starts preparing a bowl of it, while Peebee continues excitedly: “Yes and it was cute! Actually, now that I think about it, it reminds me of the neck flaps angara have.”

She can’t see it because her back is turned to the table, but Ryder can definitely hear her sly tone as the asari concludes: “Why don’t you style your hair like that, the next time? I’m sure Jaal will love it.”

“It would give him an instant boner.” Drack comments dryly and Chloe’s cheeks turn beetle red.

“I… I will think about it.” she babbles, doing her best to ignore – or at least erase from her memory – Peebee’s next words: “Using hair during sex, huh… I wonder how that feels like.”

“Kid.” Drack grunts. “Please. I’m eating.”

“Thanks for the chat, guys!” Ryder exclaims, voice cracking, and she flees the room, a bowl of paste in her hand and one of cereal in the other. She forgot the milk, but she doesn’t really want to go back into the galley to retrieve it, not with Peebee describing in detail how cool a hairjob would be like.

She lets out a long, relieved sigh once she is back into her quarters. Like she asked him to, SAM has called Jaal, who is stirring and moving in bed, but still refuses to completely wake up.

“Let’s give him more time.” she giggles, placing his bowl of paste on the small table, before sitting on the bed and eating her milk-less cereals. It’s almost heretical and her mind can’t comprehend exactly what she’s putting into her mouth, but it will have to do for today.

Jaal seems to sense her presence, because his arms immediately look for her body; once he finds her, he smiles contently, eyes still closed, and nuzzles her thigh.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” she says, poking his forehead with her spoon. “It’s time to get up.”

“Five more minutes.” he mumbles, his voice deeper and hoarser than usual. It does things to her groin, but she fights the urge to undress completely and join him back under the covers.

A part of her cannot wait for him to wake up and see his reaction; another is scared and timid, but she knows he loves her no matter what. He told her so yesterday too.

To be honest, they always tell each other how much they love each other, almost every day. Liam once said they are the couple with the highest level of PDA he ever saw.

“Alright, only five more minutes.” She leans down and kisses his cheek, holding back a giggle when her hair tingles his face and he scrunches up his nose.

He is still too sleepy to open his eyes, but his hand on her legs refuse to move when she tries to get up after finishing her breakfast.

“Come on!” she laughs, poking him with the spoon again. “Eat your food and join us on the bridge. We’ve arrived on Aya.”

He hums affirmatively, but whines sadly when she frees herself from his hold and leaves the room again, her laughter making him smile into the pillow.

On her way to the bridge, she meets Scott and Lexi: her brother’s eyes are less red today and he clearly took a long, hot shower, because he looks refreshed and his cheeks are finally pinkish.

“Oh, how cute!” Lexi exclaims as soon as she sees her. “I wonder what caused this sudden change in style…?”

“She never braided her hair like that before!” Scott gasps, pretending to be shocked. He even puts a hand on his chest and takes a staggering step backwards, as if hit. “Sis! What’s gotten into you?”

“Come on, I just wanted to try something new.” she grumbles, blushing, and glaring at the smiling asari and her silly brother. “It’s not that bad, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not. You look really pretty.” Lexi reassures her, although she is definitely going to write this in her next psychological report.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” Scott’s smile softens and it becomes a little melancholic, but also very sweet. “You remind me of Mom.”

Then, before she can react and hug him, he turns smartass again and grins cheekily: “I’m sure Jaal will have fun touching it.”

Chloe huffs, redder than her shirt, but seeing her brother like this is a balsam for the soul. Maybe a good night of rest really did miracles or maybe he’s just really excited of finally setting foot on a new planet.

Frustration. That’s what SAM felt when he was briefly connected to Scott. At least, that’s what he told her and that detail has always been carefully stored in a corner of her mind, a painful reminder of what her brother went through, even before leaving the Milky Way.

It seems a part of that frustration is finally leaving him, transformed into relief, excitement, healthy curiosity. If everything goes right, then he and Jaal will be finally able to develop a beautiful friendship.

She wonders if he will ever call him “brother” like Jaal does. Scott can be pretty awkward with new people, even more than Dad was, and it might take him a while to get used to let himself go when around Jaal, but there is time and they are in no hurry.

At least, not until Sahuna will learn that he is finally back on his feet.

“I saw Aya from the windows. It looks great!” Yeah, that’s definitely impatience and curiosity. He is grinning more than he ever grinned before. “I read some info about it, but the Initiative doesn’t say much about it.”

“Yes, we don’t want to risk the kett learning too much from our communications, should they ever start to spy on us.” Chloe sighs, shaking her head. She admits that’s always been a big fear of hers: accidentally leading the kett right to the angara’s most important planet.

Fortunately, that has never happened and both the Initiative and the government on Aya have taken even more extreme measures to ensure only the minimal and most protected information would be transmitted; also, confused and lost as the kett are now after the Archon’s death, she doubts they have the resources and time to try anything reckless like diving through the Scourge.

“I want to visit the museum. And the Embassy. Oh, and the tavetaan!”

“Wow, you remembered the name.” Ryder chuckles, heading with him to the bridge, and he grins at her from above his shoulder as he climbs the ladder.

“I’ve had my fair amount of free time, remember? Ugh, sis, you really need to install a lift here. My back can’t take this ladder.”

“And where would you put a lift here? Come on, move your ass!”

Despite his complaining, Scott rushes to the bridge, happy like a child, and Suvi shares his excitement, listing to him all the flowers and cool rocks she found on Aya.

“There is this plant, the tavarv, and I tried following an angaran recipe to prepare snacks with it, but…”

“Let’s just say they weren’t good.” Kallo flatly adds from his seat, earning himself an angry pout from Suvi. He is the only one who can bear to see her like that without feeling bad.

“How rude! Jaal said they were good!”

“Of course he did.” Scott chuckles and Chloe, behind him, braces for a bitter joke or an annoyed comment.

But that never comes. Her brother shakes his head at Suvi and says matter-of-factly: “He is an angara. His taste-buds can appreciate that kind of food.”

There, nice and simple, the most practical statement in the world, pronounced without any snarky remark.

“See?” Kallo exclaims, pointing at him. “He gets it! He is the third one, after me and Cora, to tell you that!”

“Ryder tasted an angaran pie.” Suvi mumbles, her pout reaching the “trembling lower lip” stage. “She said it was excellent. Isn’t that true, Ryder- oh!”

She and Kallo see her only now and they both beam at her and her new hairstyle. Suvi even gets up to go near her and admire the red star-shaped hairpin.

“Ryder, you look so good! It’s so nice to see you like this!”

“A simple, but elegant look.” Kallo agrees, before smirking playfully. “Addison might treat you better, if you styled your hair like this all the time.”

“Oh God, no. I can’t let the people on the Nexus see me like this. I have a reputation to defend.” she jokes, but a part of her knows that she will have to look the part in the years to come.

‘Tight shirts and boring shoes, here I come.’ she thinks wearily, but the thought of Aya manages to make her feel instantly better.

That place brings so many good memories and the lake where Jaal brought her has truly become her favorite place in the universe. That day was so perfect and she can still taste the sweetness of the water on his lips or feel the timid touch of his broad hand between her legs.

(“Like this…?”

“Yes... Just like that, I think.”

“You are…” he chuckled, face flushed, in awe. “Very soft.”

“And you are…” she giggled, reaching for the length between his legs. “Very hard.”)

“Uh-oh, dreamy eyes again! She must be thinking about Jaal.”

Her brother’s voice reaches her ears and brain and she snaps out of it, staring at Scott’s smug grin.

“I…”

“Red cheeks, too.” Kallo sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “Must be something sweet.”

“Don’t you have a ship to fly?” she grumbles, suddenly happy to be able to cover her face with her hair. “Scott, stop laughing, or I will force you to meet Evfra.”

“Who?” A hint of panic does appear in his eyes – and Chloe feels bad for that -, but he’s also so thrilled to finally visit new places that the idea of meeting more angara, new people, doesn’t scare him anymore. In fact, he looks curious about that too.

“Evfra, the leader of the angaran Resistance. He helped us on Meridian too, but I doubt you saw him.”

“My brain was kinda fried in that moment, sis.” He hesitates, playing with his sleeve, eyes focused on Aya, which is getting closer by the minute as Kallo pilots the ship.

“Do you think I could meet the Moshae? She sounds interesting.”

“As soon as we land on Aya and she hears about you, she will expect you to go to her office.” she chuckles, before grimacing. “Sorry. It’s just that she is an expert about Remnants and she will want to hear what happened exactly on Meridian.”

“Oh boy, she’s gonna be so disappointed.” Scott laughs nervously, but he calms down when his sister pats his shoulder and says, smiling: “Don’t worry, she is also very kind and I’m sure she will understand. I’ll come with you too.”

“No! I mean, thanks, but…” He swallows, looking at the clouds now surrounding the ship as they fly towards the LZ. “I want to do this alone. I want to get used to all this by myself.”

“Scott…” she sighs, eyeing him worriedly. “Don’t strain yourself. You know you can ask for help, right?”

“Yes, yes! And I will ask for it, if I need it, I swear it. It’s just…”

“Chloe.” SAM intervenes on their private channel. “I believe Scott wishes to experience this by himself. Landing on Aya and exploring it will be his turning point, just like it was for you.”

“Oh.”

I… I will never be like you or Dad.

SAM is right. Scott needs to feel ready, useful, professional. If she and Jaal accompanied him around like two babysitters, he would probably feel like a child and it would probably hinder his experience with the angara.

“SAM, you are getting wiser than me.” she jokes, using the private channel, and the AI replies a millisecond after: “I’m flattered.”

“Alright, then.” she tells Scott, who beams at her. “Go have fun. You will probably meet Drack and Liam at the tavetaan, so don’t get too drunk.”

“Psychologically prepare yourself for the food, man.” Liam’s voice says behind them. “Angaran paste is the… shit, who replaced our Pathfinder with this new girl?”

“Ha ha.” She glares at the grinning man, folding her arms. “Yours was the rudest reaction, by the way.”

“What, are you writing them down? I’m sure Gil made a smartass comment.”

“He didn’t see me yet.”

“Hey, Gil!” Scott opens the comms, dodging his sister’s hand before she can swat him. “Did you see Chloe’s new hairstyle?”

“What?” the engineer sounds flabbergasted, then he pauses. “Please, tell me it’s pigtails.”

“Shut up and help Kallo pilot the ship.” she huffs, starting to regret her choice, but she knows Scott is just joking – probably to feel better and avoid thinking too much about his First Contact experience – and she still can’t wait for Jaal to see her and…

The door of the bridge opens and she doesn’t turn around at the speed of light, absolutely, she is ready to swear it in front of Tann and the rest of the leaders. She just moved very quickly, clearly alerted by the sound that isn’t absolutely familiar after all the time spent on the ship.

Nobody believes that, of course, judging by Liam’s snickers and Suvi’s giggles, but her initial embarrassment goes away when Jaal enters the room, perfect and perfumed as always.

His eyes immediately settle on her, recognizing her face among the others, and then they widen beyond measure. They are already pretty big, like all angara’s, but now they are practically filling his entire face.

He walks over to Ryder in two fast strides and stops just a few inches from her, staring at her like she is the most wondrous of creatures, the birthplace of creation, the answer to all questions, a stars-filled deity riding a yevara in the sky.

“Incoming boner!” Drack announces with his unmistakable belly laugh and Chloe splutters, hiding half of her face behind a hand, trying to ignore Liam’s louder snickers and her brother’s amused snort.

Jaal successfully ignores them as if they even aren’t on his same plane of existence. He keeps looking at Chloe, eyes big and full of nebulas, and his hands at his sides twitch, yearning for contact.

“Do you like it?” she asks, fidgeting, feeling like a teenager on her first date wearing her best frilly dress. “I… I wanted to try something different today.”

He doesn’t reply, but he’s blushing a lot and she suspects some of that blood is flowing down like Drack said.

“You can touch it, you know.” she giggles, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaal has always been fascinated by her hair, but she usually lets it down only in bed.

He touches it and kisses it before and after making love or before falling asleep; when on the Tempest or while taking a break somewhere while on mission, he twirls her ponytail around his index finger or brushes back her bangs, sweet gestures of love shared while modding weapons, eating, or waiting for a shuttle to arrive.

To see her hair like this, out of bed, must be pretty interesting, exciting, and yes, perhaps even arousing for him. He immediately raises a hand and gently brushes it against the side of her head, watching the delicate brown threads flow through his two separated fingers like silk.

Then he notices the two locks of hair tied behind and he tilts his head to see what that’s about: she hears him gasp when he sees the star-shaped hairpin.

“The wonders of human hair.” she jokes, getting redder. Jaal’s eyes quickly move back to her face and he says slowly, with all the sincerity, love, and certainty in the world:

“You are stunning.”

And here she giggles again, looking down before looking at him again, biting her lips as she grins at him.

His hand grabs hers and he is about to say something, something important and sweet and tender, she can see it, when Kallo announces: “We’ve arrived.”

Scott is bouncing on his feet right in front of the console of the galactic map and Chloe hears him point at all the cool things he’s already spotting in the docks of the city.

“Wow, it’s all so clean! Look at those cool roofs! And what are those things, solar lights?”

“Well,” she chuckles, looking back at Jaal, who seems to have just remembered where he is, “someone is eager to get off the ship. We should go.”

“Yes.” he says, voice hoarse and rumbling. He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses it without breaking eye contact. She grins again.

“Scott!” she then calls. “Come on, we will accompany you to the main entrance.”

Her brother runs to her like his life depends on it and then he remembers Jaal is here in the room too; the two men look at each other, slightly embarrassed, then Scott clears his throat and nods at Jaal with a smile.

“Good morning.” he says and Jaal smiles back; for a moment, they really look like two brothers-in-law and Scott even opens his mouth to say something else, but then he stops and nods towards the airlock.

“So…? Shall we go?”

“Yeah.” Chloe swallows down the slight disappointment and prefers to feel only the hope blossoming in her heart instead, the one that tells her these two dorks will soon talk with each other without embarrassment and fear.

She also dreads it a little bit, because that will also be the day when they will joke about her and Scott will show her boyfriend all the old, mortifying pictures of their childhood.

But that’s not a bad thing, after all, she thinks as Jaal’s hand move to caress her hair.

- - - -

Aya is beautiful. It’s alien, different, and new and Scott’s heart thrums wildly in his chest.

It’s like he finally boarded a ship and went through one of the relays of the Arcturus Station, leaving it all behind.

Well, he did do that – he did that to a so large extent that he left his whole galaxy behind -, but that’s not the point.

The point is that he’s finally exploring Heleus. Seeing the people and things that live in this new home so unfamiliar, so scary to him.

And even if his First Contact experience didn’t go so well, he’s not going to consider those two encounters on Meridian and the Nexus official, but will instead focus on what and who awaits him here on Aya, hoping he has learned one thing or two after a few hours spent on the Tempest with his sister, her angaran boyfriend, and the angaran dictionary SAM was so kind to update for him.

The docks of the city are cool – tidy and colored, they remind him of those Greek or Italian cities the Alliance often advertised to sea-lover aliens like the salarians and the drells.

The angara seems used to the Tempest landing in their city, but some still glance at its shape and engines with a yearning to learn more about them. Some even stop to admire it from afar.

Almost everyone acknowledges Chloe and Jaal’s presence, nodding at them, greeting them with a wave of their hand or a big smile, often followed by a “Pathfinder!” or “Hi, Jaal!”.

Then they see him and their curiosity returns: they don’t conceal it and it’s clear they notice his similarity with his sister – or perhaps they even recognize him from the vids -, because he hears the words “brother” a lot.

The two guards at the entrance are forced to ask him questions; he doesn’t appear on their records and they scan him first, eyeing him and Chloe.

“A new member of your crew, Pathfinder?” one of them asks, her tone kind, and she chuckles.

“Yes, he’s my brother, Scott.”

“H-Hello.” Babbling again. Why does he always have to babble in front of the angara?

He remembers what he told Chloe and what she told him; he thinks about the stuff he read while ill and the stuff he read the previous night and a bit of his anxiety dies out, although his hands keep sweating a lot and his throat is dry.

Thank God angara do not shake hands or he would have made a mess.

“Wait! You are the one the Archon caught!” the other guard gasps. He can’t see their faces due to their helmets, but the tone of the guard’s voice is unmistakable: awe, surprise, and even a tiny bit of admiration.

“Yes, that’s me.” he says, lamely, but the angara don’t seem to mind the obviousness of his words. They are thrilled by the confirmation, instead, and one of them laughs, even bouncing on his legs.

For a second, he reminds Scott of a cute, big, purple rabbit.

“I heard you helped killing him! Anyone who kicked the Archon’s ass is welcome here.”

He smiles at that, a true smile, and his next joke is decent, caused by his anxiety, but also his joy to be here, be alive: “It was a pretty good ass-kicking, I admit it.”

The angara laugh and then the door opens; Jaal and Chloe exchange with them a few more words while Scott proceeds, entering what looks like a small plaza, with a holographic news outlet and a beautiful mural depicting angara in ceremonial outfits.

There is a particular smell in the air, pungent, odd, but not unpleasant and he fills his lungs with it, his mind unable to give it a name. It reminds him of lilac or perhaps basil, but he isn’t sure and he stops trying to recognize it. Everything here is new, different, but that’s not always a bad thing.

“The market is this way.” Jaal tells him, pointing at a beautiful pathway lined with flowers, benches, and round floating lights, which turn out to be a bigger, more complex version of the angaran omnitools that everyone in the city can use.

The feeling of being in a tropical or Mediterranean city increases, but there are also many details that tell his mind he isn’t on Earth; first of all, the angara he can see everywhere, accompanied by their melodious voices, colorful garments and scarves, and loud manners.

Then the flowers and plants, so mysterious and strange-looking; Scott has never been an expert about flora, but he recognizes a new ecosystem when he sees one.

There are waterfalls too: he can hear their sound echo in the pathway and then he sees one, tall and majestic, its sweet water falling on his hair and skin in round, luminescent droplets. It’s not cold and he is sure it shimmers faintly: perhaps an effect of the angaran bioelectricity?

At last, the market appears in front of his eyes, framed by more colored tiles, by the symbols of the angaran alphabet – which looks eerily familiar -, by more angara talking, bartering with each other, selling and buying or simply enjoying the view from the terrace.

A sight like this would have overwhelmed him just the day before, after his first awful encounter with the angara; now he feels calmer, even though he cannot deny how painful that little bit of anxiety still boiling in him is, especially when it twists his stomach like that.

He prays there are public bathrooms here.

“Well… We will leave you to your exploration, then.” his sister says, smiling at him, and she shakes her head when Jaal asks her a question with his eyes. He doesn’t even need to pronounce it: she immediately understands what he wants to tell her and she replies in the same way, using her expression and a simple gesture of her hand.

She has learned a lot from Jaal and the angara.

Despite the startling openness on his sister’s face – she has always been so awkward and goofy that reading her was like trying to decipher a Hanar poem -, Scott doesn’t feel bad, jealous, or scared.

He’s surprised and a part of him – one he still doesn’t want to admit exists – wants to become extroverted and clear about his feelings too.

“Alright, I… I will start from the market, I guess.” He clears his throat, looking around with his hands on his hips, a typical Dad’s pose. “What should I do if I get lost?”

“Use the map on your omnitool – SAM automatically downloaded it for you – or the one provided by the transport service.” Chloe explains without missing a beat, precise like Mom. Then she smirks and he sees a trace of amusement in her eyes. “Or ask for directions.”

Jaal laughs at that, but he is not mocking him, just agreeing with her, and Scott plays along, lightly punching her shoulder.

“Go, you two. Go smooch somewhere and let me explore in peace.”

“Brother. Scott.” Jaal hesitates for a second, before lowering his voice: “If someone bothers you, call us or come to us. Understood?”

“What?” Part of his anxiety spikes up. “Why should someone bother me?”

“They might exaggerate with their jokes or ask you too many questions, for example.” Jaal is eyeing him like he is a frail child, one who needs a lot of protection to go around. He feels mildly offended, but then he understands the big guy’s intentions.

He isn’t trying to offend him nor he thinks he really is weak and in need of assistance. He just wants to make sure his experience on Aya will be good, for the sake of Chloe too.

Every time he stops to think about things for a second without giving in to panic, things look better.

So he doesn’t snap at Jaal or glare at him; instead, he smiles at him and punches his shoulder too, seeing how happy that makes him and Chloe.

“Don’t worry! I’ll handle them better than yesterday, I promise. And if I won’t…” He looks at them both, serious: “Then I’ll come to you, I promise.”

“Good!” His sister and Jaal beam at him, then they leave, heading hand in hand towards the raised side of the market, the one with the terrace looking out over the beautiful, incredibly diverse landscape of Aya.

He thought it was strange seeing lava and hurricanes coexist together with lush vineyards, vines, and tropical forests. This sight that he observed from the Tempest as they landed was jarring enough to confuse him, but now he thinks it’s a pretty good analogy to the angara: welcoming and full of life, but also passionate, stubborn, ready to show how lively they can be.

He admits this was a thought that frightened him a lot: it haunted him during dinner, because if the angara can be so open with their love and kindness, that means they can be open with their rage and frustration too, right?

But then he saw the love in Jaal’s eyes, he saw the way he worries for Chloe, the way he always touches her with respect, with a sense of healthy possessiveness that says “you are mine and I am yours, whenever you go take me with you.”

Even now, from the distance, he watches them walk along the terrace with huge smiles on their faces and Jaal’s eyes never leave hers as she speaks or points at stuff on the horizon. His hand grasps tightly hers and he admires the shape of her nose and the color of her hair.

Believing the angara capable of being abusive partners just because they show their emotions without restraints was a foolish, rude, childish thing to do and Scott is aware of that now, so aware that shame burned his heart more than once during the night, as he spent hours reading their vocabulary, filled with poetry and affection for every little thing in life.

Ascribing to this new alien species human faults or characteristics is stupid and he should know better than that. He knows it was his fear talking and that he really didn’t think all angara capable of being dangerous with their feelings, but that’s not an excuse and he feels the strong urge to shout how sorry he is at the top of his lungs, so that every angara can hear him.

He glances at his sister and her boyfriend one last time, before they disappear from his sight, swallowed by the crowd and foliage: Jaal is whispering something in her ear and Chloe is laughing, her hair moving in the wind and drawing shapes in the air.

Scott sees some angara look at them, probably surprised by seeing one of their people and a human be together. They glance down at their hands, then at Chloe’s smile as she kisses Jaal’s cheek, then at his dark, intense look as he whispers something else, his other hand moving to touch her hair.

Ah, he was right, then. They are really going to smooch each other somewhere.

Chuckling, he enters the market and is relieved to see it’s not dissimilar from the market one would see in a small town of Earth or in specific neighborhoods of the Citadel: there is food – surprisingly, only a vast array of fruit and vegetables -, but also weapons and armors and anything angara may need in their fights against the kett.

One of the merchants glare at him when he timidly approaches his booth, so he steers away from him and stiffly moves to the fruit merchant, an angaran woman with a small, but kind smile.

“Hello.” she says, noticing his interest. “Would you like some angaran fruit? It’s all cultivated here on Aya.”

“Uh…” His bad habit of torturing his hands come back, but as long as he doesn’t snap his fingers in half, he should be good. He spots a round, yellow fruit similar to a mango, but it clearly isn’t a mango and he has no idea how it tastes like.

“That is a paripo.” the merchant explains. “It’s sweet, with pungent undertones. I think you might like it.”

“I…” Scott takes a deep breath and looks at the angara. Small steps, he tells himself. Small steps. Don’t mince your words.

“Forgive me if I’m rude,” he starts, hoping it won’t sound like a terrible apology for what he’s about to say, “but I was told angara mostly eat… paste? Is that right?”

The angara chuckles, a crystalline sound. Like Jaal before, she isn’t mocking him or laughing at him, but simply expressing amusement and it’s fascinating and refreshing how immediately clear the meaning is, how Scott can understand it so easily, without misunderstandings.

“Yes, we turn our food into paste. Easier to carry and consume in battle without wasting precious resources. That way more people can eat and we… how you humans say it? Kill two birds with one stone?” She chuckles again, shaking her head. “That’s a silly, but funny idiom. I like it.”

“Silly, but funny. That’s us!”

He uses humor to feel better, and he does feel better, especially when the merchant laughs with him.

“Fruit in this form is rare.” she continues, gesturing at her goods. “And expensive. If you buy a paripo from me, it means you are have something to celebrate.” She stops, blinking slowly. “You know, it’s strange. I’m sure I already had this conversation, long ago.”

“Maybe another alien asked you the same questions.” Scott suggests, taking a new interest in this paripo fruit. It looks good and if angara think it tastes sweet, then it must be the most saccharine thing human taste-buds will ever taste.

Also, if it really means what the merchant said it means… he has another reason to buy one.

“Yes!” the woman exclaims all of a sudden, making him jump. “You are right! I said the exact same thing to the Pathfinder, the first time she was allowed through the gates.”

“Oh, you mean my sister!” he blurts out, a huge grin spreading on his face. He’s always happy to brag about her and hear more about her experiences, especially now and here, surrounded by her First Contact species.

The merchant blinks again, eyes wide, then she narrows them, studying him intently. Scott stays still, continuing to smile, and the angara murmurs: “Stars. You do look like her.”

“We are twins.” He rubs his neck, not used to being stared at like that. “Uh… So…”

The angara starts chuckling again and this time the sound turns into a giggle.

“She was calmer than you.” she says, sincerely but without judging. “But still very, very excited and curious, like you are. I can see you are part of the same family.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and nods at a paripo. “Can I buy one?”

“Yes, we accept your credits. Bartering for a paripo would cost you too many things, anyway.” She taps something onto her omnitool and Scott’s pings; a window opens up and he can see the total, which apparently includes a “bag” to carry the fruit.

It’s a lot of credits, but it’s not like he didn’t bring any money from the Milky Way. Chloe was also kind enough to send him some, a few days before his discharge from the Cryo Bay.

He accepts the transaction and both omnitools ping again.

“Thank you.” the angara smiles, before turning to take a bag of unknown material and one of the round fruits. She stops, though, and looks back at Scott.

“Wait, do you plan to continue your visit? You can leave the bag here and come get it later.”

“Oh!” He glances at the fruit: it’s not big, but it will definitely get bothersome to carry around. “You are right. Thank you.”

The merchant takes a rectangular label and what looks like a short, green pencil. She hands them both to Scott and motions him to write.

“Your name.” she explains when he stares at her without moving a muscle. “So we will know which bag is yours.” She grimaces. “Not that I expect more people to buy a paripo, but you never know. The Archon’s death is cause of celebration.”

“Tell me about it.” he chuckles, writing down his name in clear – Latin – letters; the angara observes them take form on the label with an appreciative hum, then asks: “What does it say?”

“Scott.”

“Scott Ryder.” She nods, as if she heard that name before and she probably has, although she didn’t know it had his face. “Mine is Felaan. Thank you for helping kill the Archon, Scott Ryder.”

“You are welcome.” he grins, suddenly feeling proud of himself, and he gives her the label. She sticks it to the bag with another giggle.

- - - -

He reaches the tavetaan next and it’s a cozy, relaxing place. There are mostly angara sitting at the tables or at the counter, but he also sees Nexus scientists and researchers, taking a break or talking with the citizens of Aya.

He sees hope and enthusiasm in everyone’s eyes and he knows it’s all very recent, that things were bad at first, especially when exaltation was first discovered or when the truth about the Jaardan came out.

The war isn’t over, of course, and both the angara and the Initiative know this, but with the Archon dead and the kett confused and leaderless, it’s obvious people just want to let themselves go for a while and enjoy this moment of relative peace.

This is what his sister and her team achieved. When she first came here, there were fear and distrust, then she changed it all for the better.

But, he admits to himself, even if rather timidly, I guess I did my small part too.

He asks for a drink and the bartender – he discovers he’s actually a very important figure, a sort of cook-slash-scientist who continuously works on nutrients and food to help the population – smiles at him and gives him a tall glass full of… something.

“Oh boy. What is it?” Scott chuckles, not nervously, but excitedly. The drink smells funny, but not bad. It looks like plain water, but he sees that beautiful shimmer again, as if it is full of glitter, and realizes it really is the water of Aya.

The bartender – Roaan - confirms it is, his grin growing.

“There is a small quantity of tavum in it. It’s an intoxicant, but it shouldn’t get you drunk.”

“Alright. Here goes nothing!” He closes his eyes and drinks the water all in one gulp.

At first, he tastes only the light, peculiar sweetness of the water, then the tavum hits him like a sack of bricks to the face: he coughs and sputters, but thankfully he doesn’t spill any of the drink onto the counter and the bartender lets out a roaring laughter, not unlike Jaal’s.

The unpleasant experiences he had the previous day are gone from his mind: Scott laughs with the bartender and the other angara who watched the scene and then two of them let him taste their own drinks, sharing directly the glass with him, not caring that he’s an alien.

He learns the names of the fruits used to make those cocktails, the names of the drinks, and then the names of the angara themselves. They are loud and kind and it’s almost like being back to the barracks on the Arcturus Station, but there isn’t an underlying sense of shared frustration here, only joviality and camaraderie.

And instead of looking at his map, Scott asks them for directions.

Thanks to their explanation, he finds the Repository of Memory without problems, but he risks to get lost in it: not because it’s particularly big or anything, but because it’s full of angaran, Remnant, kett, and Milky Way relics.

He looks at every single stand, reads every single plaque, and asks so many questions to the curator – an angara called Avela – that her two assistants have to intervene so he can ask them questions too, without bothering the poor, busy woman too much.

They say this with the most amused and fond smiles he ever saw on someone’s face and when they learn he’s Chloe Ryder’s twin brother – “Stars, I didn’t notice the similarities!” – they become even friendlier.

“She found three very important angaran relics! They predate the Scourge, a detail of the utmost importance.” the curator says and his pride for Chloe grows, just like his hope to be able to find similar artifacts in his journeys.

He still fears he won’t be able to grow like she did, but perhaps all that matters is that he grows, even if his results will be different from hers.

Just as he ponders about that, admiring an ancient angaran musical instrument, a door opens and two other angara enter the room, coming from what looks like an underground part of the Repository or another floor entirely.

They catch his attention immediately: one angara, a woman, looks rather elegant, with golden accessories on her head and clothes. She looks different from the other female angara he saw: more… delicate, but tougher at the same time. She gives him a lot of maternal vibes.

The other angara, a man, is scary. A big, frowning guy with two ugly scars on the left side of his face, glaring at his angaran omnitool as if it just offended his mothers.

“You work too much, Moshae. Your vitals are still low.” he says with a tired sigh and Scott thinks he is the one who should rest more, if that’s how he usually sounds like. Then he realizes how he just called the woman next to him.

“That’s not true. I believe I’m not working enough, to be honest.” the Moshae chuckles graciously. “I enjoy being ambassador of Heleus. It is a huge responsibility, but it’s not like I never had those before.”

Then her eyes – so big and galaxy-like like all angara’s – set on Scott and she lets out a small, whispered “oh”. She smiles at him and walks over to him, followed by her confused, tense companion.

“Paavoa.” she greets him, slightly bowing her head, and Scott does the same, mouth dry, sweat running down his back.

“Hello.” he says, hoping that’s the right way to respond to that. “So… you are the lady Moshae?”

She giggles at that, but doesn’t correct him or anything, so he assumes he didn’t say something entirely stupid. The guy behind her, though, looks even more confused and annoyed.

“I am. It is a stubborn title that will never leave me, I fear.” Her smile grows and it becomes warmer. “You are Scott Ryder, are you not?”

Her friend, who is busy typing something onto his omnitool, freezes and his head snaps back at where Scott is, big eyes drilling a hole into his face.

“What?” he murmurs and Scott desperately tries to remember whether he ever offended this guy or his family in any way in the past.

“I… I am.” he confirms, looking back and forth from the Moshae to her friend, silently asking for her help or any kind of explanation. “You saw me in one of the vids going around?”

“Oh, no, I saw you that day on Meridian! You probably didn’t notice me, you were far too weak and hurt.” Her tone turns sympathetic and kinder when she pronounces the last sentence. He knows she is perfectly aware how painful a meeting with the Archon could be.

“You were on the battlefield, too?” he says, not really able to imagine such a lady punching or shooting kett, but angara are surprising creatures, he learned, so his confusion passes soon.

“I was and I greatly enjoyed myself.” She raises her chin high, proud. “The day the Archon died will probably become an angaran holiday.”

Then she turns to her friend, her smile containing a hint of amusement.

“Evfra, stop glaring at this poor boy and introduce yourself.”

Being in the presence of the leader of the angaran Resistance should fill Scott with his familiar anxiety and panic, but the past hour he spent in Aya did miracles for him and he feels reborn, so much he is able to beam at the towering angara and extend his arm to shake hands with him in the angaran way.

“Evfra of the Resistance, right? I heard about you. I’m Scott Ryder.”

His gesture greatly surprises Evfra: he obviously didn’t expect him to know how angara greet each other and he looks at his arm like it’s a poisonous barb, before relaxing a bit and bumping his fist against his shoulder.

He grunts while doing so, but at least he isn’t glaring at him anymore.

“Ryder.” He pronounces that name with a fake calm and his expression hardens for a second. “Please, tell me you are not related to the Pathfinder.”

“I am her twin brother.” He feels like joking, even if Evfra looks ready to die. “Can’t you tell from my face?”

The angara stays silent, then he inhales and exhales slowly, even closing his eyes while doing so.

Then he looks pained and a sound much similar to a low, resigned sigh leaves his lips as he turns to the Moshae, scowling.

“I want to retire.”

- - - -

Half an hour passes until the Moshae lets him leave the Repository. Like Chloe expected, she asked him some questions about the Archon and the Remnant tech, but it went better than what Scott hoped: not only he didn’t panic or answered rudely due to his trauma, he also managed to keep calm enough to answer honestly and clearly, sometimes even cracking a joke or two.

He promises her he will come back soon to continue their conversation and the last impression she gives him is that of a very wise, strong-willed woman.

Evfra is probably the grumpiest angara he has ever met, but there is great sincerity in his manners too and he goes straight to the point, blunt and honest like very few people in the Milky Way were.

There was a moment when Scott stared too much at his scars and the angara glared at him again, barking: “What? Never saw scars inflicted by a kett weapon before?”

“Sorry!” Scott’s panic rose a bit in that moment, but he managed to keep it under control and fix everything with a candid: “The kett left some scars on me too. On my brain, to be more precise.”

Evfra narrowed his eyes and frowned, perfectly silent, while the Moshae gasped loudly.

“The Remnant tech, right?”

“Yeah. When my sis and I interfaced with it without our AI, it fried our brains a little. The doctors found some faint scarring on them.” He realized he had probably revealed a very alarming detail, so he hurried to add, also to defend his sister’s reputation: “But it’s nothing serious! It doesn’t stop us from doing our work, it was just… uh… a flesh wound?”

The Moshae smiled at that and reassured him that she understood perfectly, but Evfra stared at him with something akin to sympathy and a weird kind of respect for the whole time.

Now Scott is wandering near the entrance of the Resistance Headquarters, admiring the way the light plays with the waterfalls and the differently colored skin of the angara.

He’s getting hungry and just as he debates whether go back and buy some fruit to eat while walking or see if the nutrient paste the tavetaan sells really is that bad, he spots his sister and Jaal near the terrace.

She is laughing as he plays with her hair – no, he’s trying to braid it.

He’s laughing too, but there is also a look of deep concentration on his face whenever he looks back at the brown locks in his big hands. She is holding her hairpin, waiting for him to complete the hairstyle.

“So I twist it… just like this?” he asks, seizing the hair in a delicate grip and twirling it; Scott realizes he’s trying to tie it in Chloe’s usual ponytail, but with little success, also because of his bioelectricity which causes a lot of static to go around.

“Yes, then ...” she starts, but another laugh bubbles up in her throat and she lets it out, bringing a hand to her mouth to muffle it. There are tears of mirth and joy in her eyes and Jaal laughs with her, bumping his forehead against the back of her head.

They laugh like two teenagers in love – no, that’s not right, their love actually looks more mature than that. It reminds Scott of a kind of love he already saw before and then he understands.

They are just like Mom and Dad were in private, in those quiet moment when Dad thought he and Chloe were asleep or too busy in their rooms to hear how loudly their parents were laughing and joking.

He remembers a particular day, when he walked in on his parents playing like that: Dad couldn’t close the zipper of Mom’s dress, no matter how hard he tried, and they were giggling so much their faces had gotten all red.

Dad looked rather sheepish when he noticed Scott, but the twinkle in his eyes stayed there for the whole day, another proof of how much he loved his family and how much strength his hard job took from him.

“Wait, I’ll show you again.” Chloe says and she ties her hair in just a few seconds, with swift, precise movements of her hands and wrists. Jaal hums thoughtfully, then he delicately unties the ponytail and smooths her hair with his large palms.

“Beautiful.” he murmurs, before kissing the back of her head and her cheek, and she laughs again, patting his thigh.

“Come on, Darling One! Try again.”

They look adorable and Scott smiles, wondering how he could ever fear the angara to be dangerous, how he could ever fear Jaal to be dangerous for Chloe.

He is about to leave, his heart finally at peace like never before, when he hears them.

“Ugh, can you believe it? The alien took him!”

“It means he really is dense, then.”

He slowly turns to where the two voices are coming from. Two female angara are whispering to each other while giving sidelong glances to Chloe and Jaal; they look surprised, disappointed, one of them might even be a bit angry, but most of all they look confused.

“I don’t understand. What does he see in her? She is not bad-looking, but…”

“Her head is small and her legs are weird. Also that hair he’s touching… Skkut, it’s disturbing.”

Scott breathes deeply and counts to ten, although he keeps glaring at the two angara without pause.

“The most handsome fighter of the Resistance… together with an alien.” One of the two women sighs, folding her arms on her chest. “What a waste.”

“I heard humans might be compatible with us, though.” her friend says, causing the other angara and Scott to jump.

What?

“What?”

“Yes, I’m not joking! They are much similar to us, even internally, and since we were… you know… created, maybe the Jaardan wanted us to be similar to other races they found in the universe.”

The other angara babbles some unintelligible words, then she manages to spit out: “What are you saying? The Jarevaon Imasaf is too far from here! The Jaardan…”

“The Jaardan created life. Who knows, maybe they were able to travel through galaxies without much problems, they saw the humans, and thought it would be useful to make us compatible with more species.”

“Useful why?”

The angara shrugs. She is talking about her species’ creation and the possible implications and reasons behind it like one would talk about the weather.

Her friend shakes her head, scoffing, and goes back to her unashamed staring. Chloe and Jaal are laughing again after the ponytail Jaal tried to make immediately got loose.

“Stars, can you imagine? Their children would be so odd. Her nose is so big.”

“I like her laughter, though.”

“Yes, but he is more stupid and blind than I thought.”

Scott can’t stand that anymore: grunting, he stomps towards the two women and clears his throat loudly to catch their attention.

They gasp and turn to him, tensing up.

“That human is my sister.” he starts, making the two angara gasp again. He can’t tell, but they are paler than before. “And she is the best person in Andromeda. The fact that the best fighter of the Resistance was able to see that and got together with her means he is a great person too.”

He folds his arms, glaring at the two women, trying to look imposing and bigger like Dad taught him before he went to work on the Arcturus Station.

“So, please. Stop talking ill of my sister and my brother-in-law and aim your jealousy and envy at someone else.” He grunts. “Better yet, appreciate how special their love is and find some harmony in your lives. I just did that and it feels good.”

He smiles at them, to show them he’s not angry anymore – he still is, but he doesn’t want to appear too frightening or resentful – and walks away, heading towards the Resistance Headquarters, his steps light, his heart even lighter.

The two women share a dumbfounded look, then they glance at the couple again: they are now facing each other, Chloe’s hair tied in a messy, but tight ponytail, and Jaal is caressing her cheek while holding her close. They are staring into each other’s eyes, murmuring words of love.

“Alright.” one of the two angara admits with a sigh. “They are kind of cute, I guess.”

Her friend stays quiet for a while, then she timidly asks: “Don’t you think the Pathfinder’s brother is particularly… fascinating?”

A few notes about this chapter!

- The frustration Scott feels is actually canon. After finishing the game, you can ask SAM how being connected to Scott felt like. He says that he sensed frustration and a growing desire to explore the unknown while staring at the relays of the Arcturus Station. "The rest is private", but he also says that despite his illness, Scott was ready to jump on his feet and fight. Ryder is as strong as he is, but she expresses that potential differently, probably because her job was more satisfying and she didn't miss anything while in Andromeda.

- All the angara mentioned in this chapter actually appear in the game: Felaan really is the fruit merchant, Roaan is the bartender/scientist who takes care of the tavetaan and works on the nutrient paste, and the two whispering angara are the ones who gossip about Jaal when you first explore Aya.

- I'm not sure whether Bioware really is pushing the "angara and human are compatible" idea or not with all their hints scattered around, but I like to think that through some space magic (or perhaps thanks to the angara's nature itself, like the end of the chapter implies) they might really have children together. Hybrids are actually canon in the Mass Effect universe: in the OT, it's stated that there are ways to create interspecies offspring, but they are illegal and frowned upon just like experiments with AI. It's a pretty delicate topic and I still have to decide whether an angaran/human hybrid would look good and healthy or not, but since the angara were a The Sims-like experiments made by the Jaardan, I wouldn't be surprised if their creators made them compatible with other species they observed in other galaxies (maybe the Jaardan could observe the other galaxies thanks to their synthetic nature or, if they weren't synthetics, they used the Remnants? Who knows?). It's all crazy theories, so let's just say it's all a big, bolded "?" and let's go with adoption for now :'D

- The comments about Chloe's look and her insecurity come from the heavy criticism the default/Sara look (the one I used for Chloe) got when the game was released. At first, I didn't like it much either, but then it really grew on me and now I think the default face is the cutest. I love it a lot ; v ;

#mass effect #me:a #jaal ama darav #chloe ryder #rydaal #lafaiette's fic #THESE CHAPTERS ARE GETTING SO FREAKING LONG

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