#I hope someone learns something new about one of the first women in STEM

[onefriendeveryday]

Ada - 8/3/2023

The two hundred and fifty third friend. A cog in honour by Ada Lovelace. She was born in England in 1815, though her parents separated shortly after she was born and her father left the country forever. She was horribly ill for most of her childhood and could barely walk for a long time. She was privately educated when she was young. She then educated herself with help from the professor of mathematics at the University of London. She was introduced to Charles Babbage in 1833 and became interested on his work. In 1835, she married William King She translated and annotated an article by an Italian mathematician and engineer in the early 1840s. These annotations contain what is considered to be the first computer program, though some say Babbage's notes contained earlier examples. Her and Babbage built a machine called the Analytical Engine, a machine which is considered to be the first computer, and the majority of it was built by Ada herself. In 1852, she died of cancer, though she is still remembered for her contributions to computing. An early programming language was named after her and the second Tuesday in October is now celebrated in her honour.

Here is a link to the article I got most of my information on her from, in case anyone wants to do any further reading.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

hi! hope you're doing okay—I've got a holocaust-history-in-media question for you. I was talking to my brother the other day, and he mentioned how his 10-year-old son tried out "Anne Frank mode" on the meta VR headset. I was kind of horrified, because that sounds deeply exploitative and disrespectful—but he went on to say it's just a VR version of the Anne Frank house, and that it let my nephew explore history in a new way. He was able to touch things and move them around in a way he wouldn't be able to IRL, not to mention the accessibility of not having to travel.

My nephew's kind of an unusual kid, and he chose this "game" while at a friend's house. All the other kids got bored and left pretty much immediately, but he stayed to learn, and my brother says that at the end his takeaway was, "It's so sad. It's so sad and awful what human beings do to each other."

Part of me is just like "No, absolutely not, that is not for VR companies to profit off of in any way, this feels inherently exploitative." But idk. If it increases accessibility and education in a meaningful way, then perhaps that disquiet is simply reactionary.

Then I remembered I have access to an actual Holocaust historian, someone who even specializes in women's narratives and the media portrayals of same.

So, no worries if you're busy/don't have time to respond to this, but I thought it might be an interesting question for you. Do you think the VR Anne Frank house is a good thing?

Ooooooh this is an interesting one. It's also a question that I think I would have answered differently a few years ago. I mean, I've posted here about my issues with central role Anne Frank has been accorded within Holocaust memory, I've posted about the politics of people playing Pokemon Go at sites of atrocities and disasters...

But. Technology changes SO quickly. I read this fantastic article probably 10+ years ago now about how the millennial generation began to express collective nostalgia SO quickly and so young, because technology and the norms it introduces change so quickly. I'm 34 and while that's hardly ancient, the technological world inhabited by children and adolescents is effectively alien to me because of this massive, rapid, ongoing change.

Moreover, I think the pandemic gave us all an...unwanted but helpful bootcamp in what works wrt education over the phone/computer, and what doesn't. In my personal and professional life, I've met and spoken with STEM companies/individuals who specialize in working with museums, historical societies, etc. And they're not just in it to make a buck--they're there to work with museums etc in increasing access and keeping up with educational trends because they know it's important and smart people value STEAM education.

So, despite my acknowledged concerns issued in the first paragraph, and the kneejerk negative reaction I think you and I share, I think my conclusion is that this is a good thing. Like, as a Holocaust historian, pubic historian, educator, and now a Hebrew School teacher of 7-11 year olds, I think whatever gets kids interested and engaged is Good; whatever draws them and gets them thinking about it is Good; even if the tech and infrastructure involved is something that I previously took (philosophical) issue with.

This doesn't mean I don't still have concerns about the centrality of Anne Frank, but let's be real: I lost that battle a long time ago. I've said my piece, and if Anne Frank is going to be kids' gateway into learning about the Holocaust, I'm glad to see that it's being done responsibly, well, and in keeping with how kids engage with education and tech in 2024.

There are, obviously, many theoretical conversations to be had about the implications of this kind of thing, and I hope a grad student applies like, Walter Benjamin to it for a first year paper, but this is my answer purely in terms of access and education.

[trashsketch]

unfortunately i've heard the korean 4b movement is pretty transphobic

yeah it's incredibly unfortunate. I'm first hearing about the Korean 4B movement today, but it reminds me a lot of a roommate I used to have, who's originally from a rural part of China. I've had to talk her out of some blatantly transphobic takes before, but it all stems from her upbringing as someone who was raised to dedicate her whole life to supporting her brother (she's cut ties with her family after immigrating to Canada and is free from that obligation now, but...I cannot imagine having to work through like 20+ years of trauma by yourself with no one to talk to about it besides radfem echo chambers online).

I'll go ahead and copy paste something from the article that was linked in the post: Some 4B practitioners also were turned off by the movement’s focus on cisgender women to the exclusion of trans women; many of the online communities require verification with a photo ID attesting to the applicant’s sex, and Minji said that one of the feminist communities she joined asked her to submit a video of her Adam’s apple, ostensibly to ensure she wasn’t assigned male at birth.

Regardless though this movement is still something new to learn about. I've only heard of the horrific instances of spy-cam sex crimes before this (and it reminds me a lot of similar crimes in Singapore where perpetrators mostly got only a few months of jail time). There's a lot to unpack here, but regardless I will say that Asia still has so much more to learn about trans rights and trans acceptance. I can only hope that it gets better with time and the help of activist groups.

[moonvalecrossing]

Alright, I've asked about your thoughts on the Paldea Gym Leaders. But instead of the Elite Four (there are only 2 Elite Four members [3 if you count the Champion] that don't have another significant role, anyway), I'm gonna ask what your top 3 favorite and least favorite of the Academy teachers in Scarlet and Violet are.

Sorry for the late reply. I was taking a wee break from pokemon related things! I'll get to teachers happily in a moment, but there's something I want to say first. And, as always, POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR SCARLET AND VIOLET THINGS AHEAD WOO WOO! Also probably unpopular opinions! Lets get this shit!

Gotta disagree about what you say about the Elite Four. Loathe as I am to view it on equal footing with any of the other established elite 4s (even freaking Alola's) because of the GODDAMN LITERAL TODDLER IN THE RANKS, it's still an elite four with 4 members. I'd argue Mrs. Topmost champion isn't exactly the best at her job running the league considering said toddler's status as well as the fact she's placed people who clearly prefer their other jobs to being a gym leader. Plus, listening to what Larry has to say she seems to be a bit of a shitty boss, too. Can't get another person for the elite four so you pick the one regular joe who sees this as his 9 to 5 and then you make him use a completely different type of pokemon than what he specializes in? Damn, Geeta I think I hate you. Top Champion, my ass. Nemona's final fight was harder than yours. There didn't turn out to be an actual villain team in this game, but god damn if I didn't spend the whole game hoping it would be Geeta so I could kick her ass and jail her. She runs a joke of a league, and is a joke of a champion.

Now then! Onto the main establishment in the Paldea region! The school and its teachers!

Favorites first!

#3. Mrs. Tyme. I adore this woman. Her makeup and fun hair style are as on point as her sister Ryme. She is a delightful woman and I loved her classes. Plus, according to Bulbapedia, she's the homeroom teacher for the STEM track at the academy. Something something women in science careers booya! I also liked her little side story as you got to know her at the school. At first I thought it was odd that she had such a strong sense that someone was watching her. I mean, I suffer from anxiety and paranoia about people around me and even I don't really notice when someone's staring at me unless I see them doing it. But, remembering her sister's basically a rapping medium (which by the way is still fucking awesome goddamn), it wouldn't be too strange for Tyme to have a bit of a sixth sense about her.

#2. Mr. Saguaro. I looked forward to his classes almost as much as the top slot's classes whenever new classes unlocked. He's an absolute delight. I love when they make tough intimidating turn out to be actual sweethearts. When I sat in on my first class I had to tell my girlfriend that I'd found her fairy trainer OC's real father. Buff scary looking man who isn't afraid of wearing pink and does presumptuously feminine things? Dead ringer, son. Now if this guy trained solely fairy types I'd be getting a paternity test ready! xD

#1. Mr. Hassel. What can I say, I'm an artist at heart. It was my favorite class in school growing up, and it will always be. Hell. My senior year schedule was 50% art classes. It was the greatest school year of my life. Anyways. Hassel. I love this man. I am in love with this man. I would marry this man, damn. He is so damn sweet and emotional and I just want to hug him. I wanted to learn so much more about his history after his side event at school. When I first saw him I thought 'oh god this guy's gonna be unfun and boring teacher man'. I could not have been more wrong. This man? This man is my favorite adult character in the game. I'd pair my player character with Arven, but me? Mr. Hassel. GIVE ME A RING, SIR. (Sorry that got kinda weird but dang this character is wonderful.)

Now here we go! To the fun part! Get your pitchforks ready kids because I'm sure someone's gonna be unhappy here!

#3. Ms. Dendra. Hoo boy. I am a fat kid and I hate gym class. So taking her class and standing in the middle of a running track gave me some bad Mile Run flashbacks. Her class was actually nice, though. Simple, I'd argue. But I have at least two decades of pokemon battling under my belt so I wouldn't expect to be challenged by the battle instructor's lessons. So why did I put Dendra down here? Well. It's not her design. I like it (even if she screams Dark Types and not Fighting Types) as simple as it is. No. She's friends with Tulip. She makes me do that fudgemuppeting ESP training gym challenge. I still don't know if I was only supposed to emote once or spam the button since my character didn't hold her pose like the rest of the people there. Dendra is getting hella hate by association, and I feel kind of bad. However, that's not hte only reason I am unimpressed at her character. Her side story is the least impressive of all the teachers. Well besides another on this list, but yeah. Ha ha tough girl character can't cook (or in this case, make a sandwich how is that a thing these crazy bastards would happily eat a pickle and cheese sandwich slathered in mayo and enjoy it). Her story is learning to make a decent sandwich. And as far as I can tell, she still didn't 100% figure out how to do that. Good lord, woman. Meat. Cheese. Lettuce. Condiment of your preference. This would at least make a little sense if she were in Galar struggling to make curry. You could burn that shit. In Paldea your cooking only screws up if you fail to stack the stupid sandwich right. (And I did often because the table liked to shake for some damn reason. And then there were hte times everything fell off when I put the top slice of bread on. My sanity is in shambles, there's bacon all over the table and I am inconsolable.)

#2. Mr. Jacq. He was almost #1. But while thinking about it I decided I dislike the other teacher more. I don't hate Jacq's class. If anything I wanted to learn more about pokemon biology. Dude's a bishie and I like staring at his face. So long as I ignore whatever that eyebrow situation he has going on. It looks like he drew it with a dry erase marker and the maker faded at the ends. Why is he so pretty. Anyway. I hate everything else about his design. Dude literally looks like he rolled out of bed and put on a lab coat and sandals. Dude is wearing pajamas and you will not convince me otherwise. Doesn't even look like he fixed his bedhead. Good lord man a little professionalism's too much to ask, apparently. I hate those sandals. His classroom looks like a science lab classroom. Put on some gosh damn shoes, sir. The only worse job he could have had with that outfit is teaching cooking. And I get it my dude. You're the pokedex guy this generation. Which is funny because you're not even the same kind of professor as the others. The actual professor's Sada/Turo and those two are [a pair of peas in a pod]. Yeah lets no spoil that one. Thanks, Spamton. He mentions that goddamn pokedex more than I care about. He even puts a damn question about it on his midterm and gets in trouble for it. My guy. My dude. This is the age of the internet just ask online. You did a good job on the pokedex design it's actually really neat to get new entries and see the pictures and the book design is really cool. I think that saved you from being #1 on this list. But the fact you can't separate your two jobs makes me more than mildly salty. They may go hand in hand but I will throw you into the bowels of the deepest volcano for wanting me to get the entire pokedex again to finish your stupid side thing at the school. You don't get a story, you just give me my least favorite challenge in the game. My guy that pokedex has entries for pokemon from the ancient past and I chose Violet. I will strangle the life out of you. How in the in-universe fuck can you expect a child to accomplish that in a timeline where we had Professor Turo as the professor? When its clear the strange pokemon are from the future? Frick off with that nonsense, Jacq give me my shiny charm.

#1. Ms. Raifort. Oh goddamn. This woman. Best teacher sidequest because of what it unlocks and its unsurprisingly interesting lore-wise. But I'll get to more on that later. I have some words about this woman. Bench cannot even come into class with her shirt tucked in. I don't care about that sort of thing but god damn woman either leave it untucked or fully tucked in you look as sloppy as Jacq. And this woman is obsessed with History to the point I don't want her teaching children. She's one of those asshole teachers that picks someone to answer a question if you make eye contact. God damn did I hate teachers like that. Do you want your students to disengage from your lesson? Do you want to really mess up the kids with social anxiety? That's what's gonna happen. The air she has about her reminded me of my French Teacher in Highschool and that woman was such a massive bitch that I dropped the class completely. She doesn't care about her students. Not unless they meet whatever standards she sets up for them. And boy howdy does she go about making you feel stupid if you answer wrong. And did I say this woman is obsessed with history already? Because damn I meant it. Whinges about a new addition added to the school building because its marring the ancientness of the structure. I remember her also complaining about events that occur more recently to present day because they're so recent. Even wants a time machine so she can go see things back when they were pristine and untouched history. Bitch be crazy. Now, back to that side quest. While I enjoy the side quest for the pokemon in it... this woman is completely off her damn rocker for setting it in motion. "Hey kid, remember that story I talked about where Paldea's empire was torn asunder because of pokemon that were cursed treasures or some shit? And they were sealed away afterwards? You know what would be absolutely poggers? If you went out and removed all the spikes keeping those seals shut! I bet the pokemon will be thrilled as can be to be free and I'm sure this won't have any negative effects what so ever! HISTORY! HNNNNNNN!" I didn't get to finish this side quest yet because I didn't find all the spikes before needing a break from pokemon for a bit (oops accidentally wanted to play Fire EMblem Three Houses again and then got further distracted with Deltarune Fanfiction) but if my character wasn't so gosh darn special because she's got me controlling her, I can imagine all of Paldea would once more be turned asunder by some angry chinese monsters. Because looking at the dex entries.. hoo damn are those some vengeful spirits taking the form of pokemon. And to top it all off. When you finish this sidequest and show her all the angry spirits you captured and prevented from being unleashed had someone more stupid and less powerful did it? She gives you the TM for Nasty Plot. What is it with the characters being obsessed with other time periods in this game and seeming sus as all fuck?? Someone give me Looker's phone number I need to make an anonymous report on dangerous individuals.

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

[gatheringbones]

["My friend has long brown hair and a kind of bushy beard. He is from a working-class coal mining town in the southern US. He looks a bit like a good old boy. Like a redneck straight white guy, to use his words, not mine.

He had been riding the good old Number 20 Victoria bus downtown a couple of days ago, reading a book. To be more specific, because it matters to the story, he was reading one of my books. As in a book I wrote, not just one I owned and then lent to him.

So he notices kind of by accident that there is a young woman sitting right across from him, in those seats that face each other in the back of the bus, and she is glaring at him. Staring and glaring. He ignores her for a bit, hoping she will just go away, or decide to stare at someone else, but she just keeps right on, laying the old stink eye on him.

Finally she breaks the silence. She asks him why he is reading that book.

He tells her because he likes to read.

The exchange that ensued goes something like this:

"Do you know the author of that book is a lesbian? Why would someone like you want to read a lesbian book? What is in it for you?"

I should mention at this point— not that it really mattered to my friend or myself, but the story requires it— that this young woman had short hair and was dressed, well, kind of dykey. Not that one should assume anything about a perfect stranger, but it is important for the narrative here that we all understand that my friend figured it was more likely that she was taking issue with his choice of reading material for some sort of political reasons stemming from the fact that she was queer herself, rather than her being a right-wing evangelical Christian who objected to apparent straight guys reading queer books on public transit for religious reasons. Just so we've got that part straight, at least.

So my friend answers her.

"Well, I am reading it first of all because I like the writing, and second it is funny, and if I am getting what you are getting at here, then yes, I am reading a book written by a lesbian because I am learning something from it, and it challenges me. Isn't it a good thing, that a straight guy can read a queer book in broad daylight on a city bus without even thinking about it? Because I didn't think about it at all, until you brought it up. I mean, isn't that the kind of world we are all wishing for?"

But she was like a dog after a bone.

"It challenges you?"

"Yeah, it makes me think about stuff in a different way. Also, Ivan is a friend of mine."

She snorts. "Oh, of course. Ivan is a friend of yours."

This is where my buddy started to feel a bit defensive. They trade a few more clipped sentences. Then she says:

"Oh, now you're going to get all angry at me. How typically male of you."

The conversation continued to swirl around the drain like that for a short while, and finally my friend realized this was a discussion he was biologically predestined to never win, so he went back to reading his book. Or should I say, my book? He bought it with his own money.

My friend and I had a lengthy caffeine-fueled discussion about it all later that afternoon. The first thing I felt when he told me this story was shame. Shame for my people. Shame that she slid herself so easily into the stereotypical shell of the man-hating lesbian and harassed a perfect stranger on the bus, backhandedly in my name.

He reminded me that we had no way of knowing the kind of pain or suffering that the young woman might have survived at the hands of men that looked just like him. He reminded me that even though she pissed him off and he walked away feeling defensive and ruffled, he never once felt unsafe, and that we might not be able to say the same for her. I feel it is important to the narrative here to stress again that it was he who reminded me of these things, not the other way around.

And it got me thinking. I was reminded of a discussion I had recently with a femme friend of mine who is a coordinator of a women's centre at a university, and every September she does orientations for the new students, of all genders. She tells all the young men that she assumes that they are her allies in the fight against sexism. That she assumes they are on her side and there to help her change the world, until proven otherwise. She tells me she loves to watch them raise their heads and straighten their shoulders. She loves to watch the young women too, as it washes across their faces that they can be real feminists and fight sexism and get to keep their boyfriends if they want to; it doesn't make them any less a part of the sisterhood.

What a powerful thought. To assume that a stranger on the bus is on your side, until he (or she) proves they are not."]

Ivan Coyote, from Some Of My Best Friends Are Rednecks, from Missed Her, Arsenal Pulp Press, 2010

[saey707]

How You Met Shen & Leading Up to the First Date

✿ Prompts: You are invited to dinner at your best friend Akali’s house and come across her handsomely large brother Shen / You want to spend more time with Shen, while he tries to avoid your attention ✿

♡ champion focus: shen ♡ tw: light body dysmorphia ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: I absolutely adore the whole concept of big boy Shen with a dad bod so that’s going to be the focal point of this series. I think it’s just the most wholesome thing (///♡∀♡) So let’s show Shen some love! If you would like for me to continue this series you are more than welcome to request for more (υ◉ω◉υ) Enjoy!

How You Meet Shen ♡

Much of his insecurities stemming from the constant comparisons to his adopted brother, there was a part of Shen that had always been insecure about his body. Of course, Shen did have a pretty good amount of muscle for a man of his stature, but it didn’t spare the fact he was well over 200 pounds and had a diet many didn’t understand.

You have always had a thing for bigger men, though it seemed like nobody knew it! Far too often have you fallen for the wrong people: Those who were only concerned with appearances, public image, your money, the list goes on.

However, when you learned your best friend Akali had a brother, your attention stuck to the handsomely plump man with black hair.

“Is that… Your brother??” You sputter out, dumbstruck. 

Akali nudged you, pulling you along. “Yeah, don’t make fun of him.“ “N-No I mean! He’s just really… hot…?” 

At that, Akali scrunched her nose up, shaking her head in disgust. Someone thinking her brother was hot? Oh kill her…

As dinner came around the corner, you knew you had to meet him!! He’s been on your mind since you and Akali passed by his room!

Placing plates down on the dining room table, Shen looked up only to find you shyly standing at the doorway, cracking a smile to the thick man. You waved to him with a flustered grin. 

Confused as ever, Shen looked behind him. There was no way you were actually flustered to see him. He looked back at you, pointing to himself.

You nodded, stepping forward to get a closer look at Shen. The poor man nervously fumbled with his fingers, hands behind his back now. 

“U-Uh… Hi?” “Hi...”

Leading Up to the First Date ♡

For some time, Shen spent his days avoiding you like the plague whenever you came around. Why you wanted so desperately to be around him was beyond him! He just didn’t feel comfortable with such a wonderful and beautiful individual such as yourself giving him any sort of positive attention!!

Usually Zed was the one with women and men sauntering his way. But for you to want his attention of all men? It’s strange!

However, you obviously had plans of your own to gain your Shenpai’s attention! 

They say the best way into a man’s heart is through his stomach… 

Naturally, you knew you would have to cook something wonderful for him! 

The first thing you made for him was chanko nabe, hopeful that it would be enough to gain his trust. At first, you played it off as something you and Akali are going to bring to a gathering, but decided Shen was “way more fun than some silly gathering”. 

You remember how his eyes lit up the moment he took the first bite. From there, you were hopeful to keep getting that same reaction from him. 

Soon, you were making all sorts of food to bring Shen so the two of you could share and grow closer to one another. You made just about everything: hand-pulled noodles, barbecue, homemade dumplings, stuffed rice cakes, sour pork soup, you name it!

You were certain all of your efforts wouldn’t go to waste if it meant Shen would at least put some of his trust in you. 

Plus you loved the excited look on his face whenever you brought something new over, the way he sunk into his chair whenever he took one bite of your cooking.

“I hope you’re hungry!” “Heh, always..!”

Shen started anticipating his little sister’s friend coming around more, hopeful that he can repay you for all you’ve done with his own cooking.

He wasn’t the best of cooks like Zed, but he did know how to make pretty decent cup ramens!

Honestly, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t developing the tiniest of crushes on you… And of course, you would definitely be lying if you said you weren’t falling maddeningly in love with the twilight eyed man yourself!

[blossomingimagines]

Fall Again

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff 

Word Count: 3,856

Summary:

Notes: I hope this what you were looking for.

Warnings: Depressive thoughts and talks of dying.

The faint sound of buzzing filled your ears as the man sitting before you droned on and on. His words are meaningless beyond the first sentence. ‘The tests came back positive, I’m sorry, you have cancer.’ Words that had instantly filled you with a certain hollowness you had never expected. As if your entire being tried to comprehend the words. As your mind tried to wrap itself around the idea that you were dying. Causing everything else to simply fade away into a static background. Simple white-noise to your predestined existence. Even still bits and pieces slice through like knives. Cutting you open to the world that you would never experience in the same way again. Leaving you exposed and bleeding without any semblance of protection. 

The sound of the hospital filtered through your ears. Shuffling of feet and the distant voices of doctors and nurses speaking to one another. An overabundance of cheer and hope floating through the halls like air, but you could now detect the underlying sense of despair. The darkness that festered beneath the light pretenses of the spotless halls. A feeling that only seemed to come to the dying. The beautiful lies become a painful truth. You simply stared straight ahead at all the degrees hanging proudly on the wall. All mocking you, because no matter how many awards your doctor may have-- nothing could ever truly cure you. Nothing could stop your body from tearing itself apart. Nothing could stop the suffering you were going to experience. His words mean nothing more to you than the mindless chatter you hear on the subway. 

‘I believe we caught it early, which is a good sign.’

‘You’re going to have to start radiation immediately.’

‘If we don’t get ahead of this thing… I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do.’

Turning, you finally meet the warm gaze of the man that was trying to save your life. Your mouth opens in hopes that your brain just knew what to say. That a few simple words would stop the spinning of the room. That your entire world would make sense again. 

Nothing came out. 

You simply stared at the man, with your mouth slightly open, as silence settled over the two of you. An oppressive silence that spoke more than either of you ever could. Brown eyes staring into yours with compassion and understanding. Lowering your head, you could feel the way your body seemed to wilt. Your shoulders slumping as you canted forward. Normally graceful hands, fumbling to get a grip on your knees. Anything to keep you anchored. To keep your thoughts on the current moment. On what was happening right now. You didn’t want them to stray to your future. To what you knew was coming for you. 

You didn’t want to think about the fact that you were dying. That you would be dead sooner than you ever thought possible. 

You had always known that with the life you lived you more than likely wouldn’t live to see your elder years. But you had always thought you would at least go out on your terms. Either a fire-fight where you were protecting your team or protecting innocent life. You had never thought that the true enemy all along was your own body. That it had been biding its time to finally land a crippling strike-- God did it land one. 

Closing your eyes, you try to stem the oncoming tears. You hated to cry in public when you were near strangers. You hated to look weak to people that didn’t know you. To people that would judge with their own preconceived notions. Nothing was going to stop the onslaught, however. Not as images of the ones you loved came flashing across your mind. 

Tony’s snarky voice filtering through your ears as if he was in the room with you. His teasing tone filling you with warmth. He always knew how to make you forget all your troubles. 

Steve’s warm smile as he looked up at you over the newspaper. His blue eyes crinkling with happiness as he offered you a mug of coffee. Having learned how you liked it long ago.

Bruce’s calming presence as he sat beside you as you read. A companionable warmth shared between the two of you.

Thor’s booming laugh as you told him a joke that you had heard. Easy conversation passing between you both as you shared joke after joke-- as well as ale, of course. 

Clint’s grin as you cooked together. His shoulder bumping into yours with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times over. 

Vision’s practical words always seemed to make you chuckle. As you always found his no-nonsense ways both endearing and amusing. 

Then Natasha and Wanda appeared and the choked feeling in your throat only grew. Their green eyes sparkling with all the love in the world. Wanda’s open grin filling you with the same amount of warmth as Natasha’s half-smile. The laughter that so easily flowed between the three of you. Your body naturally wedged between them both as you tried to get as close as possible-- though that never seemed to be close enough. 

Clenching your hands, you try to ignore the way your heart broke all over again. Try to ignore the fact that not only your heart was going to be broken by the end of the day. That the two women that held your heart had already lost too much. And now… they may lose you too. 

A simple fact that caused a choked sob to escape your mouth. You want nothing more than to go to a time where this was the simple case of the flu. When the only reason you had gone to the doctor was because of worried green eyes tracking you wherever you went. Even when you had done everything to reassure them that you were fine. Their worry, their fear, had been the tipping point. 

“How long?”

It took you a moment to realize you had been the one that spoke. As the voice that had broken through the silence sounded nothing like your own. It was weak… feeble… everything you strived not to be. And even as the question hung between the two of you, you weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t even sure what had caused you to ask in the first place. 

You weren’t sure about a lot of things anymore. 

“With what we’ve seen? I’m afraid that if you don’t start treatment as soon as possible you’ll be dead within a few months.” The words only cause your stomach to drop even more. “However, I am confident that we caught it early enough. That, with the treatment, you may be able to make a full recovery.” 

A sardonic smile twists your mouth. “And if I don’t? I’ll end up dying as something I’m not, right? A shell of who I used to be.” 

“Yes,” he agrees softly. “But would you rather take the chance of living? Or succumb to your body’s wishes of death?” 

His words echo like a mantra as you make your way back towards the Tower. Your eyes are taking in the landscape of New York City. The bustling of life that always permeated the streets. Whether it’s children pulling their parents excitedly to the next store or a businessman that was rushing to his next meeting-- New York City never seized in its constant state of motion. No matter what happened amid its confines nothing ever seemed to disturb that simple fact.

If you were to die tomorrow nothing would truly change. The shops would still open in the early recesses of the morning. Taxis and other means of transportation would still rush through the streets looking for passengers. There would still be the distant wails of ambulances on their way to the hospital. Life would go on as it always had. The world wouldn’t stand still simply because you were no longer in it. Even if yours had the moment you had heard the news. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you stand and follow the line of people that were getting off. Your feet touching the rough pavement of the sidewalk with a hollow thud. With your hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat, you make your way through the throngs of people. Ignoring some of the looks you received once people recognized who you were. You weren’t in the mood to socialize. You also weren’t in the mood to dismiss the people that looked up to you. You knew what it was like to be dismissed by the people who you used to idolize-- your own personal heroes. You didn’t want that to ever happen to anyone that felt the same way towards you. 

So, you just kept your head down and plowed through the bustling streets of New York. Towards the beckoning light of Avengers Tower. The great A situated on its side a beacon for home and safety. The dull echoing of your footsteps on the marble floor of the lobby as you bypass security. Your mind somewhere else entirely as you make your way up towards the communal floor of the Tower. Only the soft sound of the elevator pulled you out of your reverie. Announcing that you had arrived at your destination. 

Following the faint sounds of voices, your body follows the well-worn path to the kitchen. Taking in everything as you near the entrance-- trying to remember everything as it was before the fallout that you knew was about to happen. From the faint crack along the sidewall of the living room that had appeared when Thor had ‘tripped’ while playing Nerf Wars. To the many pictures that lined the walls-- from amusing candid's to group pictures from intimate affairs. The happiness that suffused the walls of the Tower was always present. 

You hated that you were about to taint it with the same underlying sense of darkness that the hospital held. Hated that your own body has betrayed you. 

You stop, just at the precipice of the room, and smile at what you see inside. Natasha at the counter cutting various vegetables while Clint stole as many as he could manage before she noticed. Steve at the stove as he continued on with a conversation with Bruce. Tony sitting at the island with a StarkPad in his hands-- no doubt tinkering with more ideas for the next Iron Man suit. Wanda and Vision were standing side-by-side as Wanda taught the android how to properly set the table. Laughter flowing between them all. It was a serene moment that you didn’t want to break. That you wanted to capture and live in forever, but all good things must come to an end eventually. 

It seems like this one had to the moment Vision noticed you standing at the doorway. His bright smile is an indicator that he was glad to see you. 

“I wasn’t aware you had returned. If I had I would have greeted you like I normally do, Y/N.” 

At the mention of your name, and Vision’s voice, the team turns and greets you with varying responses-- mostly cheers and grins. At their sudden attention, you take another step into the room. Offering a small smile towards Vision. Hoping that it would show that you didn’t mind he wasn’t waiting for you once you had returned. As you weren’t expecting to have lessons tonight either way. 

“It’s all right, Vis.” You shrug. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

At your words, Vision’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as he detected the underlying stress that you were trying to hide. Something you knew he was about to comment on before Tony interrupted with a question directed towards the android. You never wanted to kiss a man more. 

Knowing that you needed to get some air, but not wanting to be rude, you turn towards Steve. “When will dinner be ready, Cap?” 

“Another thirty minutes,” he admits with a rueful smile. “It would have been finished sooner if Thor hadn’t eaten all the final touches for the meal. He’s out getting them right now.”

You flash a smile at him. “That’s all right, Steve. I think I’m going to go up and get changed. I feel a little grubby in these clothes.” 

He simply smiles back at you. Taking that as a sign to make a quick exit, you’re half-way out of the door before Bruce’s soft voice halts you. 

“So what did the doctor say?”

You shoot him a confused look over your shoulder. Trying to desperately appear neutral as all the attention of the room, once again, shifted towards you. 

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you go to the doctor today, má lásko?” Wanda steps from around the counter. A worried frown began to make its presence known on her beautiful face. The same expression that was starting to appear on Natasha’s. Something that you didn’t want at all. Your mind screeches at you to fix the situation you had suddenly found yourself in. You couldn’t tell them all right now. You could barely wrap your mind around it. You didn’t know if you could handle dealing with them trying to as well. 

“I have the flu,” you offer with a weak smile and a shrug. “A few days of rest and I should be as right as rain.” You turn your gaze towards Natasha and Wanda. Your eyes noticeably softening as you did so. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

At your words, the team seemed to relax. The tense atmosphere, that you hadn’t even been aware of before now, dissipating as they all turned back to what they were doing. Sighing, softly, you quickly make your way out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards your room. 

Trying to ignore the feeling of two green gazes following you as you did so. 

The bright lights of New York City shone like the millions of stars that hung above it. Shimmering in the oncoming darkness that the night brought. The buildings, and the people, standing strong against the presence that many tried to avoid. Standing just beside the large window that made up a wall of your room, you could clearly see the nightcrawlers coming out down below. A completely different society awakening as the sun disappears behind the horizon. 

Having changed into fresh clothes, you felt slightly rejuvenated. As if the clothes you had been wearing were bars to a cell. Locking you in with the truth that you were trying desperately to come to terms with. Being out of them brought a small semblance of peace, of stability, that you had been searching for. The simple act allows your mind enough time to get its bearings once more. It may not have been the ground-breaking epiphany you were searching for but it was enough. For now. 

“Dorogoy?” A soft voice whispers from the entrance of the room. Your eyes slipping shut as the knowledge of their presence seeped into you. They have given you enough time to prepare yourself. You were a fool to think that they wouldn’t have noticed that something was wrong.

Turning, you meet their gazes with a tired smile. “Nat. Wanda. Is something the matter?” 

Your question causes both their eyes to flash. Whether it be in a warning or something else, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“I believe you have the answer to that question, Y/N,” Wanda says, her brow furrowing in concern. “We know that something is bothering you but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what that is.” 

“We’re concerned,” Natasha admits, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her green eyes shimmering with suppressed emotion as she stares at you. “What did the doctor really say to you?” 

A defeated feeling wells itself up in your chest. You know that you couldn’t lie to them. You had never been able to lie to them. Slumping forward, you move over to your bed and sit. A sigh escaping your mouth as they followed suit. Natasha settling on your right as Wanda settled on your left. Their hands immediately clasping yours in gentle, yet strong, holds. 

Your jaw clenches as you try to work up the courage to speak. Try to put the words you didn’t want to be true out there. To make them materialize as a reality instead of the nightmare you wished they were. 

“I have cancer.” 

The events that followed went by too fast for you to truly react. Natasha’s hands tightened around yours with a stricken look painting itself across her face. Wanda stood with fury written across her face, green eyes flashing red as she tried to control her powers, though you knew none of that fury was directed towards you. At least not yet. 

A soft hand on your cheek pulls your attention away from Wanda’s pacing. Your eyes taking in the pained expression on Natasha’s face. An almost desperate edge underlying it made you sick to your stomach. A quality that only resonated itself within her voice. Tears already forming in her emerald green orbs as reality came crashing down around you all. “They caught it early, right? There’s still a chance for you to beat it? Please tell me there’s still a chance. Tell us there’s still a chance to save you. That we won’t lose you.” 

Tears flow unbidden down your cheeks at her desperate pleas. At the faint sound of Wanda kneeling before you and pressing her forehead against your knees. The trembling you could clearly feel as her hands clasped onto your only available one. The tears you could already feel seeping through your leggings. You want nothing more than to take their pain away. To tell them that this was some horribly fucked up joke that Tony put you up to but you couldn’t. You couldn’t and that hurt you more than any bullet ever has. 

Your throat clenches around the words that try to escape your mouth. As you try to choke out the words through your despair. “Yes.” Natasha’s eyes lighten at your words and Wanda’s head raises from its position on your knees. “The doctor says that they caught it early but I’ll have to begin treatment right away.” 

“That’s good though, right?” Wanda murmurs, settling back onto her feet. Her wide eyes filled with so much hope. “You’ll just begin treatment and everything will be okay.”

At their expectant looks, you lower your gaze towards your lap. Your heart thudding against your chest as you tried to formulate what you wanted to say. But how could you tell the two people that made your life worth living that you weren’t going to have treatment? That you were letting everything rest and have the universe take its destined course. 

Your silence seemed to be all the answer Natasha needed, however. Her words filled with thinly-veiled fury. “You’re not going to go forward with the treatment.” 

“No.”

The silence that follows your feeble answer was even more oppressive than the one in the hospital. Both Natasha’s and Wanda’s hands tightening around yours as they processed your answer. Both their emotions heightening as each second ticked by. Swirling around the three of you like a vortex. Having them both stand suddenly pulls you out of your reverie. Your head snapping up to watch them both pace. Agitation is clear in each graceful movement of their bodies. 

Whipping around, Wanda snarls at you. “Why don’t you want treatment? It could save your life, Y/N.”

“And it could also make me a husk of who I am,” you cry, standing up from your bed. “We don’t know if the treatment will work and I refuse to die as something I’m not.”

“We don’t know that it will fail, Y/N.” Natasha cries back, equally as outraged as you were. “We don’t know what the future will hold. Except for the simple fact that you will die if you refuse treatment. It’s just a maybe right now.” 

Wanda steps forward with an anguished look on her face. “Please don’t sign your life away because of something you don’t even know will be the end result. Don’t make this into a certainty.” 

“Even if I do start treatment I will be completely useless to the team,” you hiss. “Who knows how long I’ll have to fight this until it goes into remission. I don’t want to be a burden on any of you.”

Natasha takes your face into her hands, her thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. “Do you think they will care, Y/N? Do you think they won’t jump for joy when they find out that you’ve decided to fight? That they won’t be there for you every step of the way?”

“We’re a family, Y/N,” Wanda murmurs with a loving look shining in her eyes. “Family doesn’t let family fight their demons by themselves. You’re more to us, to them, than just a teammate. Nat and I love you with everything that we are. And you know the boys love you like a sister. They wouldn’t want you to just give up.”

“Yeah,” Natasha chuckles. “And I’m pretty sure you’re Vision’s surrogate mother.”

You laugh softly at her gentle teasing. Feeling warmth blossom in your chest for the first time since you had stepped foot in the hospital. “What about if I get too sick to take care of myself like I used to?” 

“We’ll be there, dorogoy,” Natasha whispers, one hand falling from your cheek as Wanda’s took its place. “When you fall we’ll always be there to pick you back up. Just like we know you’ll always be there for us.” 

Your eyes slip shut as the feeling of complete warmth and safety settles over you. Your world is finally beginning to make sense once more. Everything came back into focus as you were surrounded by Natasha and Wanda. The two people that knew how to set your heart on fire with emotions you never knew you could feel. 

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll begin treatment.” 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that they were smiling. Nor did you have to, to know that they were leading you towards the large bed. Easily pulling into the center with their bodies snugly pressed into both sides. Your nose nuzzling into Wanda’s neck as Natasha pressed herself firmly into your back. Both of their arms holding you in their warm embrace. 

All other thoughts slipping from your mind as you succumbed to the dark recesses of sleep. The only things that mattered were the two women that were holding you like you were the most valuable thing in the world to them. Their warmth better than anything a blanket could ever provide. The feeling of completeness overwhelming you as the darkness finally took hold. 

Your last thoughts being of the two women who would always be there to pick you back up again. 

No matter how many times you may fall.

[winterscaptain]

balancing out.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all for your patience this week! i hope you enjoy this one - a few of you have been asking for mom’s route 66 moment. here it is! i’ve got some really fun graphics comin out this weekend, so keep an eye out!

words: 3k warnings: canon typical mentions of injury and death, language

summary: “accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― marcus aurelius, meditations. au!january 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Haley’s sitting next to you when you snap to, sitting on a bench in a park. The same park, in fact, down the block from the apartment where you first lived with Aaron and Jack in 2012. 

This is the park where Jack learned to play soccer…

You have a feeling that something terrible has happened, that something isn’t right. 

“Don’t worry about that, right now,” Haley says, startling you a little. “You’re safe.” 

You look at her, finding her surprisingly aged in the time since you last saw her. “Haley? It really is you, isn’t it?”

She smiles at you. “Glad you can still recognize an angel when you see one.” There’s something behind her voice, the glints of her offbeat sense of humor you love so much. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snort. “You’re not an angel.” 

She shrugs with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but then again, maybe none of us are.” 

You take a moment to look around, finding the park exactly the same as you left it. Except, you note, you’re the only people there. The playground rests empty of children, curious dogs are absent from the grounds, couples lounging in the grass are nowhere to be found.

Why here? Why now?

All at once, the memory rushes over you. 

“Aaron,” you say, struggling for breath. You cough, and something wet crawls up your throat, making you cough again. Something dark lands in spatters across Aaron’s face and the collar of his shirt. You feel the compulsion to brush it away, but one of your arms feels leaden, trapped. 

He’s crying. And talking. 

“Hang on, baby. Hang on. I’m here.”

All you can say is his name, over and over, as you reach for him with the arm . There’s blood on your hands and part of you realizes you’re dying, probably. 

“What happened?” You hear yourself sputter. 

Aaron shushes you, brushing a shaky hand over your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re going to be okay. I love you. I’m here. You’re gonna be just fine.”

It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you. You don’t mind. 

Everything goes dark. 

“Haley…” You look over at her again and she grabs your arm, stemming your panic. 

She shushes you once, short. “You’re fine.” 

Tears pool in your eyes before falling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to go. Aaron, the kids, they - ” 

“You’re not going to die,” she assures you, standing and holding her hand out to you. “You’re just spending some time with me for a little while. Is that okay?” 

Her small, concerned frown warms you, and you know she’s actually asking. There’s a kind of understanding that she’ll just go away and you’ll be left in the darkness if that’s what you want. 

It’s not. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “That’s okay.” 

“Good.” Her face brightens and you stand. She tucks your hand into the crook of her arm and the two of you begin to walk, the landscape transforming around you. 

It doesn't make a lot of sense. You seem to walk through the park, then the apartment where you lived when Isaac was a baby, then the new house in Woodbridge with the twins, then the bullpen, all the way down the block to a house you recognize as Aaron and Haley’s - the big house they bought when they moved to D.C. in ‘98. 

The house where she died. 

“I have a couple people who really want to see you,” she says, by way of explanation. “I figured it would be easiest to meet here.” 

You step up to the porch and into the house, removing your shoes out of habit. There’s no trace of the blood or broken glass from the Foyet altercation. Everything seems in place, right down to Jack’s army men neatly arranged on the living room coffee table. 

It even smells the same - the light, floral smell of Haley’s perfume and something you can only describe as Aaron winds through the house, making it feel more lived-in than any time you’d been inside it after the divorce. 

“Momma!” A little girl with dark hair streaks across the room and throws herself into your arms. 

You catch her and bring her close. She’s probably six years old, maybe a little younger. When she leans back to look at you, you’re met with Aaron’s eyes. 

The recognition is immediate and you grin at her. “Hi, baby girl.” 

She smiles back at you, a mirror image. “Auntie Haley told me you’d come to visit.” 

“Did she?” You look over at Haley, whose fondness for your daughter is open and obvious. 

It’s only fair - my fondness for her son knows no bounds. 

“Yep. Gramma’s here, too.” 

You look around, your baby girl tucking into your chest as best she can given her size. Evelyn steps in from the back porch, closes the sliding door behind her, a glass of wine in her hand just like it would be in life, and smiles at you. 

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she says, crossing the room to embrace you and press a kiss to your cheek. She and Haley look about the same age, maybe forty or forty-five. Her resemblance to Sean is more obvious in her youth, but Aaron’s still her own personal carbon copy. 

You relax into her arms, your daughter squished between your bodies. “Hi, Mom.” On the first inhale, the smell of her detergent washes over you and tears spring into your eyes again. “I miss you.” 

She laughs, leaning back to place one hand on your cheek and the other on your daughter’s shoulder. “I miss you, too. How are those girls? And my sweet boys?”

The thought of your family makes you smile and you attempt to push away the fear of leaving them…

Of leaving Aaron a widower again…

Stop. 

“They’re perfect.” 

Haley huffs from beside you. “Ev, can you please tell someone stubborn that dying isn’t an option here? At least, not right now?”

Evelyn smiles at you. “You’re not going to die, sweetheart. This is just a stopover point so you’re not alone. Aaron had one too, when he was in surgery a few years ago.” 

“He told me,” you say, feeling a little more confident. “He told me he talked to Haley.”

“Yeah and I reminded him it’s a good idea to pull his head out of his ass every once in a while.” 

You look over at her. “Thanks for that.” 

She snorts. “I thought he’d never ask you. It was the least I could do.” 

+++

Eventually, you end up on the back porch, sitting in the lawn chairs with the other Hotchner women. Time seems to move differently here, the golden light of the evening hours stretches far beyond what you’re used to, but it's nice. It’s not cold, not too warm, just comfortable. 

You hear the gate open and a familiar voice calls, “I thought I might find you here.” 

Standing, still keeping your little girl on your hip, you embrace Jenny with your free arm. 

Her smile is just as bright and warm as the first day you met her. Your daughter wiggles out of your grip and latches onto Jenny’s slacks. 

“Auntie Jenny, did you bring Aunt Shannon with you?” 

She shakes her head. “Not today, sweetie. Today is for your momma.” 

You take a seat on the arm of Haley’s chair and she snags her finger into your belt loop and says, “It’s almost time to go back.” 

You look back at her, a kind of forlorn feeling creeping up in your chest. “Can you come with me?” 

With a rueful little smile, she shakes her head. “No. But, I can show you something.” 

A screen sort of comes from nowhere, propped like a drive-in movie on the other side of the yard. Foyet’s there, manning the projector. You squint at him and he shoots you a salute and blows Haley a kiss. She catches it with a smile and a fond shake of her head.

By way of explanation, Haley says, “Things are a little different here. If they weren’t different here, they’d be different there.” She points at the screen and you redirect your attention. 

Time moves a little differently, but you learn that you’re watching your life unfold as if Haley hadn’t died, as if the most pivotal moment in your life with Aaron hadn’t happened at all.

You see years pass by on the screen - Foyet is eventually caught and killed (by Derek - a surprise). Haley and Jack come home. 

Aaron and Haley come to an understanding, and you make up the tripod in their odd little fitful family unit. Aaron moves back into the big house on the river - he’s never there anyways and he sleeps in the room that used to be his office when he is home. 

Emily actually dies. That one is another, rather more unpleasant, surprise. 

When you look at Haley, she tells you, “Where there is death, there will always be death, eventually. It balances out, one way or another.”

With Haley in the picture, Aaron isn’t as fearless in love as he learned to be with you, doesn’t have as much perspective. He’s riddled with self-doubt and addled with fears of disappointing her, of disappointing you.

You and Aaron dance around each other for years and years and years - it’s almost 2015 before he kisses you for the first time, almost another two years before he finally asks you out, another one before you get married, another one before you have your first child. 

Upon seeing him, you can tell he’s not Isaac. He’s a different boy, one that looks more like Aaron than you, who’s remarkably neurotypical, loud, and much scrappier than Isaac. 

Jack doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ and you’re not as close. 

Things are...wrong. 

Well, maybe not wrong, but they aren’t the same. Even with the added joy of having Haley in your lives after the fear and uncertainty, you’re acutely aware that this is the timeline that was warped in some way or another. Everything feels delayed or just off. 

You never have the twins or move into the Woodbridge house. Aaron doesn’t close the gap with Sean, who overdoses after a tumultuous battle with his addictions and demons. 

There’s a kind of smallness to that life that you don’t have in yours.

The images fade, leaving the blank screen, after what seems like an eternity spent experiencing an alternate reality that you might have wished for if you didn’t know any better. 

Haley tugs on your belt loop. “See? Couldn’t stay, can’t go back. The life you have is the best one that exists. And,” she adds with another little wry smile, “the only one you’ve got.” 

Jenny places her hand on your shoulder, your daughter still stuck to her leg like glue. “You’re not done yet.” 

“And,” Haley adds, “you have another surprise coming next year - around August.” 

At your squint, she continues with a little smile. 

“I’m not going to tell you, so you’ll have to stick around and find out.” She winks. “Thank me later.” 

When she stands, you follow Haley to the front porch. The rest follow behind you like a little band of ducklings. Even Foyet, who could be an unwelcome interloper, seems like a member of the family. Evelyn passes him a glass of iced tea when she settles in the doorway. 

It’s kind of funny, if you’re honest. 

“Aaron and Jack will be there when you wake up. Jessica has the little ones at home.” Haley holds your hands as she speaks, swinging them back and forth a little. “You’re…” She sighs, “really hurt. Like, really really hurt. You’re gonna be out of work for a little while, and your lung capacity will be pretty fucked...forever. You’ll be able to do everything, but you’ll need to take more breaks than you’re used to.” 

Your lower lip disappears into your mouth. “How’s Aaron?”

“Terrified.” 

+++

Aaron sits by your bedside holding your hand, watches the way your chest mechanically rises and falls with the ventilator. They intubated you right away to give your lung the space it needed to heal, but all he wanted was to hear your voice before they put you under, just one more time. 

It’s been a wretched three days. Your surgery seemed to stretch on forever, digging the bullet out of your chest, repairing the gunshot wound that shattered four ribs and perforated your left lung in six places. 

After surgery, you coded after your lung collapsed again due to a pulmonary embolism. That little incident sent you right back to surgery and Aaron’s blood pressure to the stratosphere. 

Since then, you’ve been stable, quiet, and, in the doctor’s words, “lucky to be alive.” 

He can still feel the blood you coughed up running over his fingers and landing on his face, the shallow heaving of your breath under his hands. 

Images of Haley and Kate and Emily flashed before his eyes as he tried to hold you together - horrible, horrible reminders. 

Would he lose you in the field, like Emily? 

Would he lose you in surgery, like Kate?

Would he be too late, like Haley? 

Selfishly, the thought of playing the part of a single parent to four young children scared the hell out of him. The twins were hardly two and a half, Isaac almost five. Jack…

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to hold Jack’s hand as he delivered another eulogy for another person he called ‘Mom.’

If he was a single parent again, he would be tasked with raising three more children who wouldn’t know their mother - wouldn’t remember you after some time. 

Just like Jack with Haley. 

He was terrified of becoming a shell of a man without you, leaving his children practically orphaned overnight. 

Sitting in the waiting room during your first surgery, he decided that he’d quit. He’d take whatever the bureau offered and quit for the sake of his children, for the sake of Jack and Isaac and Caroline and Sophia. He wouldn’t let them lose another parent to the field, to the relentless pursuit of evil. 

Now, beside you, he holds your hand and talks to you as much as he can, knowing all the while you can’t hear him. 

+++

“I love him, Haley.” 

She grins at you while Foyet rolls his eyes. “I know you do.” Pausing as if to think for a moment, she adds, “When you wake up, don’t panic. You’re intubated. It’s...” Her head wavers back and forth a little as she searches for words. “...Unnerving. And uncomfortable. But you’re tough.”  

She kisses your cheek, Evelyn and Jenny give you a hug, and Foyet kisses your hand. 

“Say hi to big man Aaron for me, will ya?” He asks. 

You snort and shake your head. “Gimme a break.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.” 

+++

Your eyes snap open and you see the ceiling before anything else. Remembering what Haley said, you try to ignore the deeply uncomfortable pressure in your throat, chest, and mouth as you squeeze Aaron’s hand. Jack’s asleep, his long legs curled up like a little spider in the little corner chair.

Aaron meets your eyes and immediately reaches for the call button, assuring you, “You’re alright. You’re intubated, honey. Don’t try to talk. Just a second, I promise.” 

The nurse arrives and takes care of your ventilator. You take it like a champ, mostly to avoid scaring Aaron any further. Your voice is raspy and worn when you speak. 

“Hey.” 

He takes a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

A little chuckle leaves you and you cough once. It hurts. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“That easily,” he scoffs, reaching for a lidded cup of water with a straw. “Your left lung practically exploded. You think that’s easy?”

You take the cup of water, pulling small sips. It instantly soothes your throat and you latently realize you have a feeding tube winding its way up your nose and down your throat. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

“Easy enough. You were stabbed multiple times - I hardly think one-upmanship is useful here.” 

Your humor has the intended effect. His shoulders relax and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Before you ask,” you tell him, “I feel like hell.”

“Yeah I bet.” There’s a little laugh in it. 

“I saw Haley, though. And our little girl. She’s almost six now.” 

Aaron perches on the edge of your bed, still holding your hand. “Tell me about her.” 

You do, as best you can remember. Things are disappearing from your memory, but you cling to the important bits. You tell him what you saw, how life would be different if Haley had lived, the way you two talked about him, the way his daughter fits seamlessly into the lives of those they’ve lost. 

“So she’s alright.” 

You nod. “She’s perfect. Haley’s taking excellent care of her, of course.” 

“Only fair,” he says. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

+++

You’re in and out of sleep, but eventually, they remove the feeding tube and let you sit up to eat some bland pasta with some juice. It’s the best meal you’ve had in what feels like years. 

Jack sits on your good side, tucked under your arm and drinking all your cranberry juice and showing you the new games Dave got him on his Nintendo DS. The girls sit at your feet, playing with some blocks Aaron brought them. They’re attempting to stack them on your shins to no avail. 

Isaac’s sleeping against your chest. It hurts to breathe with him there, but you don’t want him anywhere else. 

It’s Aaron’s turn to sleep. He’s got untouched files on the little table beside the chair, just as he usually does. Maybe one day he’ll give up trying to pretend to do work with one of the team hospitalized. 

Haley’s right. This is the life you’re supposed to have. 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @roses-and-grasses @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 2

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I'm outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I've missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly.  -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I'm using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what's said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn't matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 3, The Runaway Room!

Episode 3: The Runaway Room.

We're skipping the first two cases, as they have no relevance to Barok van Zieks, and starting off here.

So Ryu is tossed into the deep. The Lord Chief Justice tells him that he’s basically the defendant’s only hope; if he doesn’t at least try to fight in court, McGilded will lose the trial and die for sure. (HAH… Good one, Stronghart.) So Ryu falls for this would-be motivational speech and heads for the courthouse where he finds out why McGilded doesn’t have a defense attorney to begin with; it’s because of the prosecution. No one dares to go up against Lord Barok van Zieks, also known as the Reaper of the Old Bailey, because all who he prosecutes are damned. This should sound familiar to anyone who’s played an Ace Attorney game before. ‘The prosecution has never been defeated before’ is the implication, which would initially lead us to believe Van Zieks is another one of those prodigies. Sure enough, Susato points out he must be very talented, to which McGilded replies that Van Zieks is not talented, rather, he’s cursed. This sets the mood even further. With words like “Reaper” and “curse” being tossed around, we’re sooner reminded of a prosecutor like Simon Blackquill, who was a convicted murderer wielding psychological manipulation techniques. Either way, with the grim atmosphere set, Ryu is ushered into the courtroom before he can ask any more questions.

As a sidenote, McGilded really scored some negative points with this remark:

Feels a bit softened compared to how fan translations tackled that line, but a nasty jab all the same.

So anyway, entering the courtroom we get our first look at Van Zieks and if the foreshadowing in the Defendant Antechamber wasn’t already bad enough, he honors his eerie reputation.

So far, he’s meeting the requirements then. He’s intimidating and as a wealthy white man, he’s perfectly juxtaposed to Ryu, the rookie from another country. Meanwhile, the first micro-aggression of this trial is actually uttered by the judge:

Which also makes narrative sense. Ryu’s more practical goal isn’t to win the prosecution’s trust. Heck, he could get through any trial just fine with Van Zieks’s dislike. No, what he needs is to win over the judge and the members of the jury. For them to also hold prejudice but put that aside in order to side with the truth is another important end-game here. So let’s continue. Van Zieks also has something to say here:

Initially, the remark about Ryu’s eyes might read as a typical racist jab towards someone from the East, but he is in fact referring to the way Ryu’s eyes are ‘swimming’ when he’s nervous, as evidenced by the next lines. “They shroud your fear, your doubt, your trepidation… They run wild, clinging to some phantom notion of courage.” Van Zieks is saying that while Ryu puts up a brave front, his swimming eyes betray just how nervous and unsure of his cause he really is. So really, he’s targeting the fact that Ryu is new to the courts. He did, however, make a point of tossing the word “Nipponese” in there when he didn’t need to, drawing attention to Ryu’s race in a derogatory fashion.

After the jurors are introduced, something else of interest happens. The judge points out that Van Zieks hasn’t been seen in the courtroom in a number of years. The judge had assumed that Van Zieks had renounced his fame, to which he replies with the following:

This is a very telling line. We learn several things. Firstly, Van Zieks had retired, and secondly, he doesn’t seem to think too highly of his title of Reaper. If he did, he would have gloated. To describe his reputation as infamy implies negative associations with this ‘curse’ that McGilded spoke of. Putting these two things together, one might conclude he retired because of this curse. When asked why he’s returned to the courts, he says that he’ll leave that to the judge’s imagination. So there’s hints of a backstory already being tossed in before the trial’s even properly kicked off.

Which it does now. So the opening statement happens as always and witnesses are brought in, but once it’s done Ryu interjects to say that he doesn’t understand the circumstances. ‘How could the witnesses have seen the inside of a moving carriage’? It shocks the entire courtroom and Van Zieks is the one to speak:

“-But you’re here in London yourself. Are you really so ignorant about our omnibuses? Tell me, my Nipponese friend… Have you even travelled in an omnibus?”

I have to be honest, I struggled to pinpoint just how I felt about these remarks. Sure, I can overanalyze this, looking at how the words “I’d read-” imply he doesn’t know the following sentiment to be true and therefore doesn’t feel confident enough to say something like “I knew-”... But it doesn’t change that he’s being scummy here. In a roundabout way, he’s still saying Japan is far less civilised than Britain and that Ryu is extra ignorant for not knowing about omnibuses when he’s in London. So basically, he gets scumbag points for this. But then there’s…:

Which is just a basic jab at Ryu’s intelligence. It’s the sort of remark we’d get from every single prosecutor. I think even Klavier would say this sort of line with a smile on his face.

But definitely more scumbag points here, because this was a direct attack in more ways than one. Particularly the word “stray” was uncalled for. CEO of Racism, indeed. Something very interesting happens when the knife gets pulled into the story halfway into the first cross-examination, though. When Ryu asks about it, Van Zieks replies with this:

He’s… actually being civil? (I doublechecked with Scarlet Study, and they are in agreement on the timid nature of this line, translating “yes, Counsel” as “Quite so”.) Instead, Van Zieks turns his attention to the fact that there’s an M on the sheath, directing all his offensive attitude towards McGilded. It gets even more curious when the last juror refuses to cast a guilty verdict, instead talking about what a good man she believes McGilded to be. Van Zieks says:

So he’s not only frustrated with McGilded now, he’s frustrated with the people of London for not knowing what sort of person McGilded really is. Van Zieks reveals he’s a dirty money lender who gained his fortune through corrupt means. He even takes the time to inform Ryu of this with the words “Your client is a shylock, sir!” Edit: I feel a need to address this: shylock is a word with antisemitic roots. It originally came from a Shakespeare play involving a very bad stereotype. It later evolved to have a more broad meaning basically synonymous to loan shark and I think that’s the context the localization means to use it in. There’s absolutely no indication of McGilded’s religious beliefs and even if there were, I highly doubt the localization would use that sort of slur. Still, it’s a very unfortunate choice of words and is sure to accidentally sour Van Zieks even more with some players.

With that, the last juror votes, the scale tips towards Guilty and Van Zieks assumes the trial to be over. He thanks the jurors for their work. Unfortunately, once Susato brings up the Summation Examination, Van Zieks gets very frustrated again. This happens:

IIII don’t know what to do with this line. On first glance, I didn’t think much of it and was even willing to consider it was a compliment. Then I thought it must’ve been passive aggressive somehow; that it’s the sort of thing he wouldn’t believe until he’d seen it with his own eyes. A friend directed me to the notion that it might be referencing a stereotype that ‘Eastern women are fierce’ because they were associated with, well, certain ‘paid services’. I don’t think I need to explain, I’m sure you understand what I mean. And if indeed that’s what Barok is insinuating, that’s a new low I never thought he’d reach. However, when you’ve finished the games and know that Barok was friends with a married Japanese man, it’s entirely possible that he’s remembering a story once told to him by Genshin Asogi. So this is either a bittersweet reminiscence or the most scumbag association he ever could’ve made, but I’m not sure we can ever prove which it is. Edit: As another option, it’s possible he’s referring to the Yamato Nadeshiko stereotype, if indeed it already held the ‘touch of iron’ aspect to it back in 1900. He proceeds to toast his hallowed chalice to “the enigmatic East” and to be honest, I’ve once again got nothing. All I know is that he once again drew attention to the defense’s race when he didn’t need to, so… Scumbag point. As a sidenote, in regards to the wine… I don’t count this as a humanizing trait. The same applies to the leg slam. These are animations meant to add some more lighthearted air and breathe more life into Van Zieks, so he doesn’t just stand there like a statue. They’re just quirks meant to have him stand out from other characters. So yeah, fun as the wine and leg slam animations are, they don’t count in the redemption requirements. Anyway, Van Zieks mocks the age of Susato’s book, saying that judging by its bindings it must be fifty years old. Considering the context of the conversation, this isn’t out of bounds. The defense is using ‘outdated’ information on the law, so he points that out. Any prosecutor would’ve done it like this. Simon Blackquill likely would’ve offered to shred that outdated tome to bits for Susato. Van Zieks does toss in a “Hmph, typical Nipponese” later though, which earns him one more scumbag point. Van Zieks continues to dismiss the Summation Examination, but the judge overrules him and allows it. Law is law, after all! And this is what I meant in my previous post when I said it’s satisfying to see Ryu use actual British law against Van Zieks. Ryu is using a perfectly legitimate technique to win the jurors over, and as Susato tells him, he can only do it by turning the jurors against one another with facts. He can’t appeal to them, he can only have them see sense. Which is difficult, because some jurors are more prejudiced than others:

… Yeah. Uh. Calling Ryu a “Dark Jinx” is pretty awful. Scumbag points for Juror No. 1! Meanwhile, Juror No. 4 keeps us updated on Barok’s actions throughout this trial:

Wow. Typical prosecutor behavior, though. Regardless, Ryu manages to win them all over in the end. With enough of the scales set back to not-guilty, the trial is allowed to continue, which leads to this:

Bye, hallowed chalice. A fun animation to keep things fresh and show us that the trial is about to take a turn. Once again, nothing new. We’ve seen prosecutors lose their patience before. What does interest me, though, is that Barok doesn’t direct physical frustration towards the defense. Remember: Franziska snaps a whip at Phoenix, Godot throws coffee at his head, Blackquill sends a hawk to attack the defense or uses that aijutsu slicing move, Nahyuta throws restricting beads… These were all direct physical attacks. Van Zieks, much like Edgeworth and Klavier, directs his frustration more inward and as a result he destroys his own property.

He succeeds in intimidating Ryu, though. Van Zieks explains that he kept silent, as is the norm during Examination Summation, but makes it clear that he considers it a charade all the same.

Van Zieks has been a pretty good gentleman towards the jury up until now, speaking to them politely despite that one remark about having their head in the clouds. Now that he’s seeing them ‘buy into Ryu’s stories’, as one might describe it, he’s getting frustrated with them. Maybe he’s even frustrated they’re choosing the defense’s side over his own.

He removes his cloak, entering what he says to be the next round of their ‘battle’. More typical prosecutor behavior, this. I’m not sure there’s an underlying thought to this, other than to indicate to the audience that ‘things have gotten serious’. When the next bit of testimony is going on, I noticed something odd. Both Fairplay and Furst testify to having seen blood on McGilded’s hands, to which Van Zieks says:

“... Reported that there was no trace of blood on Mr. McGilded’s gloved hands.” So in a way, by establishing this fact, he’s helping the defense and going against what the witnesses are saying. It doesn’t help the prosecution in any way at all.

The trial continues on, with Van Zieks uttering things like “My Nipponese friend” and “my learned friend from the East” and lord knows what else… I suppose to soften the harshness of the original wording a bit and make Van Zieks just a bit less dislikable? Edit: Tumblr user @beevean​ has pointed out that “my learned friend” is an actual term used in courts of law. There’s a tradition (also employed in British courts of law) that when addressing either the court or the judge, a barrister refers to the opposing counsel using the respectful term, "my learned friend". Of course, it can be said with an air of passive aggression and pretending to be respectful to the court while shamelessly disrespecting it is something Barok has always done, so the addition of “my learned friend” to the localization text is amazingly in-character. Then of course we have:

This is both a scumbag remark and foreshadowing. Naturally, those playing the game for the first time won’t recognize it as the latter and therefore take it as nothing more than a harsh blow. Things spiral even further out of control when he starts talking about how people who claim the island nations of the Far East have a learning and culture of their own use those terms ill-advisedly. He also uses the words “artless backwater” and really, this is the low point of the trial right here when it comes to prejudice. Van Zieks is just plain lashing out with these sort of jabs.

Eventually, McGilded is dragged onto the witness stand to testify about whether or not there was another passenger aboard the omnibus. McGilded admits that there was, and Van Zieks snaps at him some more for using convenient excuses. Ryu is forgotten here for a moment. The whole smoke bomb thing happens, Van Zieks confers with McGilded and Gina in his own chambers, then the trial resumes. McGilded testifies, then Gina testifies… The jury votes not-guilty, buying into McGilded’s story about protecting a poor young pickpocket and Van Zieks loses it. He slams his heel down on the bench, pointing out that this is why he doesn’t like the jury system; because emotions are ruling where evidence and facts ought to be paramount. He points out while the cubbyhole Gina had been hiding in was empty now, it had been full of the coachman’s belongings during the police investigation. Someone tampered with the omnibus. This is where things get interesting, because Van Zieks addresses Ryu:

He’s giving Ryu the benefit of the doubt here. He’s offering an option for Ryu to be truthful about this matter. And that’s curious, because any defense attorney would naturally say what’s best for his client- or so it’s assumed. It puts Ryu in a difficult position for sure, but for some reason Van Zieks put the question forward anyway. The game responds as follows:

For the sake of argument, I attempted all three options. So when Ryu says he didn’t look, Van Zieks says: “Hm… Perhaps I credited you with too much intelligence.”

So when feigning ignorance, Van Zieks is kind of a scumbag about it. He is correct in his expectation that any attorney worth his badge would thoroughly examine the details of the evidence, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. Now, when outright lying and saying it was empty, Van Zieks instead says:

The lines are very similar, which is an interesting note. It adds a feel of these responses being 'rehearsed', in a way. Just a default for him to fall back to. But the real kicker comes when Ryu tells the truth and says it wasn’t empty. Van Zieks is actually speechless at first with no more than a “...!” Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Ryu to respond like this. Everyone in court is baffled, McGilded gets angry… Van Zieks is a bit rattled now.

“Your task is to defend the man in the stand. Why would you say something to compromise his position?”

So really, it seems as if Van Zieks had only ever offered the question to Ryu with pessimistic intentions. He too had assumed there was only one answer the defense could give and was prepared for just that with his silly little wine analogies, only to be shocked when Ryu defies his expectations. Ryu confesses that he’s not entirely sure on where he stands in the matter, to which Van Zieks replies with “... Interesting.” 

So now the jury members are doubting themselves again, with some offering guilty verdicts. Van Zieks decides to honor the ‘Scales of Justice’ once more now that they’re back in his favor, like the hypocrite he is. Gina testifies, Ryu points out an inconsistency, Van Zieks takes that opportunity to turn the tables back in his favor by implying Gina is a liar… He passive aggressively thanks Ryu for saving him considerable trouble and whatnot with some more “my learned Nipponese friend” remarks in there… Ryu turns the tables once more by insisting the victim came into the omnibus through the skylight, Van Zieks demands evidence and points out that furthermore, if indeed such a thing had happened, the witnesses on the roof would’ve seen it. McGilded hops into the conversation to imply that the witnesses themselves were the killers, which sends the court into a frenzy. Both Van Zieks and the judge shift the responsibility of the accusation towards Ryu, even though he never said a word to directly accuse the witnesses. Kind of a douchey move. Barok even states that Ryu’s ‘command of the English tongue must be wanting’, since

Yeahhh, that's pretty unfair. McGilded was the one who dropped that implication. However, since the judge basically accuses Ryu of the same thing, it’s a narrative choice to warn Ryu he needs to anticipate where his reasoning will lead him. Fairplay and Furst testify, pandemonium ensues. McGilded eventually gets what he wants when it’s revealed the skylight can open and there’s blood in there. Van Zieks once again turns his attention to McGilded:

He knows McGilded is at the root of all this tomfoolery and evidence manipulation. McGilded is the real enemy here, in Van Zieks’s eyes. The conversation shows this by having Van Zieks point out that he’s well aware of McGilded’s involvement in dubious matters and that evidence is often ‘adapted’ to suit this guy’s stories. And now, once again, he turns his attention to Ryu. Once again, he’s giving the defense the benefit of the doubt:

The game gives you the illusion of choice here. If you choose to say it’s ‘out of the question’ that the evidence was tampered with, Ryu will refuse to say it out loud. If you say it’s entirely possible, Ryu will admit to that.

This is probably baffling to Van Zieks. It would’ve been so easy for Ryu to insist the tampering couldn’t have happened, but he doesn’t. The game won’t even let him. No matter what you choose, Van Zieks is clued in on the fact that Ryu doesn’t condone the deceit that McGilded is resorting to. But it gets even better, because a short time later, we get:

Another option to either draw attention to forgery, or to feign ignorance. Once again, I chose both options for argument’s sake, but having Ryu say he has no idea doesn’t get us anywhere. Susato will instead object to say it for him. With “I have an inkling”, Ryu says it himself. Van Zieks once again confesses, in his own words, that he’s caught off guard.

Ryu clarifies that he thinks the blood stain inside the omnibus is decisive evidence, but he can’t say for certain whether it’s genuine. McGilded loses it and by this point, is outright branding Van Zieks an enemy. Since the player at this point doesn't know whether McGilded is guilty or not, it leaves Van Zieks in a bit of narrative limbo. One might think: 'if the prosecutor is so intent on taking down a murderer, shouldn't we be on his side? Is he perhaps not as bad as he seems?' Unfortunately, McGilded points out that recollection and memories don’t matter, only evidence does. And… Well.

Which means they can’t rule on a guilty verdict and will have to let McGilded go. Van Zieks admits that he has no more witnesses or evidence to present. He’s out of options. As a formality, the judge asks the defense’s closing statement and we get one last option. Do we believe him to be guilty or not-guilty? When claiming he’s innocent, Van Zieks says:

It seems he means “abject” in the sense of “without pride/respect/dignity for oneself”, which… You know, is fair. By this point it’s very clear that McGilded is guilty, and since Ryu has already admitted that the evidence may be forged, insisting otherwise is indeed pretty spineless. Scumbag points to Van Zieks for continuing to draw attention to the fact that Ryu is from Japan, though.

Let’s instead just admit that we can’t say for certain McGilded is innocent. Unfortunately, we don’t see Van Zieks react to this, which is a bummer because this could’ve been very telling. The judge questions Ryu’s sanity (no joke) and McGilded laughs because it doesn’t matter; it was just a formality anyway. The judge scolds Van Zieks, saying that his case was flawed and it was his job to keep the evidence secure. Instead of objecting, Van Zieks just outright takes the blame for this and apologizes. Very interesting reaction, here. He stops pointing the finger to McGilded, he doesn’t attempt to accuse anyone else… He just admits his performance was flawed. Ryu tries to interject here:

(A badly-timed screenshot if I’ve ever seen one.) Ryu is making an attempt here to defend Van Zieks, the guy who has built up like 20 scumbag points by now. Ryu sincerely doesn’t hold a grudge against him. That’s very interesting. It doesn’t matter, though. The judge won’t hear of it, Ryu thinks it’s unfair, Van Zieks warns McGilded that this isn’t over and then we get the not-guilty verdict.

Hurray??? Profit??? It’s a victory that’s bound to leave the player feeling conflicted and jarred.

But after all’s said and done, we get one last cutscene to establish just how ominous Van Zieks really is. The omnibus is on fire, someone is inside and we know McGilded went into the courtroom earlier to investigate the omnibus in question. So really, by putting two and two together we can already guess what’s going on here. Van Zieks approaches the scene and watches silently.

It’s a good reminder to us that every defendant he prosecutes is ‘damned’ and he’s called the Reaper for a reason. Really puts the finishing touch on the eerie undertones of his character.

All in all, a pretty typical first time against a new prosecutor. Now I just want to draw attention to the fact that the first time we face Van Zieks in court… he’s actually on the right side of the courtroom and Ryu is not. Van Zieks presumably specifically returned to the court after those five years to target McGilded, as he knows about this guy’s shady reputation when it comes to ‘adapting’ evidence. Barok is 'cursed' in such a way that every defendant he faces is damned. So long as he stands as the prosecutor, McGilded can’t get away with his crimes. No matter how much forgery is done, the Reaper will go after McGilded and it seems Van Zieks was banking on this happening.

He likely also expected Ryu to have been bought off by McGilded; to say whatever’s convenient for his case. Turns out, Ryu is actually a man of integrity who’s invested in the truth and near the end of the trial, Barok has seen evidence of this. So what will happen next? We’ll have to play The Clouded Kokoro and find out! Stay tuned!

[bluebellravenbooks]

It's January and winter blues is real, people! I've been trying to do more stuff that I love to keep the spirits up, and this includes studying animation. I've admired it for a long time, but mostly by just staring at concept art and reading on how really advanced stuff is made; however, after catching up on some cartoons during the lockdowns (such as Avatar, Over the Garden Wall, Gravity Falls and Steven Universe) I realized that I'm much more interested in the character animation and storyboard/storytelling part, which very nicely intersects with my other interests in writing and drawing - and I decided to study it all a bit more!

So these are my

complete beginner's notes on learning character animation that no one asked for, by someone who is definitely not qualified to talk about it

Figure drawing. This is the first thing that will hit you like a ton of bricks if you as much as glance in this direction. I'm in two minds about this: on the one hand, some practice in this area is obviously essential (duh!); on the other, this sometimes becomes a genre in itself, a specifically stylized drawing just for the sake of, well, pretty drawing. Which isn't helpful if you're doing it for practice. Also, if you thought that art of naked women in ridiculous poses is about two centuries dead... well, yeah you're wrong. (Seriously, what's up with that? There are some things in the art world that I just don't get.) As for how to learn it, there are plenty of classical books on the subject and apparently a lot of Discourse on which method is The Best; I'm trying not to get too deep into that and currently am just learning by practice and trying out different techniques.

The Animator's Survival Kit by Richard Williams. This book was quickly pointed out to me as A Classic, and I'm having a lot of fun doing some basics with it in Pencil2D, but oh my God a good portion of this book really did not age well. It's full of reverence towards the Golden Age of animation, blatant misogyny and the ever-present incompetent "in-betweener" (animation assistant), whose problems seem to stem from the fact that he's always "plugged in" listening to music (because I'm sure that's the only reason the lowest link in the famously underpaid industry would not produce a masterpiece in every drawing). Basically, animation basics are covered really well, but there are tons of animation industry (and just life) details that are decades out of date (or at least no longer relevant for most western studios from what I know about their workflow). I didn't know that an animation handbook could be so annoying.

Perspective! For Comic Book Artists by David Chelsea. I picked this one up because of Rebecca Sugar's recommendation and all the interesting stuff she talks about in interviews about perspective. I can't comment on the book much yet since I've barely started it, but it looks fun, and perspective is definitely an important aspect that I hadn't been paying enough attention to; also interesting to try and tanslate some of these concepts to perspective in writing (reminds me about what Philip Pullman said about "camerawork").

Art books (featured here WolfWalkers and Steven Universe). I have a few more back at home - have always enjoyed them, and one can learn much from them as well. However they are heavy and expensive, so that's something to consider - for example if you're a student like me, who doesn't have tons of free cash and will probably have to move a lot. But hey, times are dark, so sometimes I do threat myself...

Software. I like doing doodles digitally, especially when learning - spoiling a lot of paper makes me feel bad, while digital drawing allows me to relax a bit more, since every bad drawing is just one click away from oblivion. The conventional choice for drawing is Photoshop, but there are definitely decent free alternatives out there. For animation tests I'm using Pencil2D - it's free and perfect for a beginner. However, one thing that you'll need if you want to try out digital art is a graphic tablet - I'm afraid computer drawing isn't really feasible without one, unless you're into VERY specific art styles. But in good news, there's not much difference between super advanced and very basic ones, so a simple one will serve you just fine! I'm using my old trusty Wacom, purchased many years ago for saved-up pocket money, and it's working great.

Well, there we are - no idea whether this is useful for anyone, but I hope it is. My take-home message here is that learning art is fun, and there are many different types of "art" that you can learn and do on your own - it's not just oils and pastels :) And of course it's not really feasible to get as good as actual art school students on your own - but there's still plenty of interesting stuff you can do!

If there are any actual art/animation people reading this - I apologize for my amateur dabbling, and would be interested to hear if you have any tips!

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[bangtanblurbs]

autumn leaves

song: autumn leaves by BTS

first experience: my first listen of autumn leaves was when HYYH pt. 2 released. thanksgiving had just ended -- it was 2015. i was well into my fourth year of undergraduate studies and going through both a rough patch in some respects but also in others -- hitting my stride. i remember my first listen through of HYYH pt. 2 was in my tiny dorm room, perched on my bed, avoiding the responsibility of studying for my final exams. autumn leaves followed skit in the tracklisting, and before skit came baepsae. talk about whiplash... my emotions were all over the place. immediately i was taken by the unique backbeat and the beautiful blend of devastating vocals with emotional raps. for me, autumn leaves was immediately a favorite of mine from the album -- following closely behind butterfly. i can confidently say today though that the song is one of my top ten bangtan songs of all time. something about the sound, the lyrics, and the emotions i can hear in their voices makes it one of the most powerful rap ballads in the bangtan repertoire. i can remember distinctly i came to this revelation around christmas of 2015 as i continued to loop HYYH pt. 2 and really feel each beat and sound within the individual tracks. 

at this time i was going through a period of great change in my life - and autumn leaves is the perfect song for change. it’s a song about losing a love but also about feeling as if you are losing a piece of yourself. there are many ways to interpret the song outside of just being another sad love song -- that is something that struck me. the lyrics speak to several facets of what happens when you give pieces of yourself to others, or when you reach crossroads in your life. finding this song at this particular moment in my life was like finding energy and light at a time of extreme darkness. it was healing. soothing. 

feelings: i have too many. as always. autumn leaves is special to me because when i listen to it i’m reminded of both the place i was in when the sound found me, but also more recent development in my life that continue to relate to the song. when i first heard autumn leaves, i’d recently ended a relationship i’d been far too invested in despite knowing it was going to be a dead end - for about three years. i felt like i was at a point in my life where i needed to figure out who the hell i was without the one i’d loved. it’s funny though - i was happy to be free of that relationship, to be free of him, the pressures he’d put upon me. what do dead leaves mean if not a new spring right around the corner? perhaps i was feeling lost, but in my mind it was only temporary -- the dead must fall away to bring forward the spring. 

that being said, i did mourn. not in the way you might think, but in the way that one mourns for lost time, lost identity. so often we, as women, give up our identities when we are in relationships. we allow others to define us in terms of those that we are in relationships with. i’ve realized this now that i’m older -- now that i’m more at peace with my bisexuality -- the notion that our patriarchal society defines us in terms of the men within our lives rather than our own talents and identities. this particular blog isn’t a space for my feelings on that topic though -- what i will say is that autumn leaves comforted me. perhaps i felt that i was at a point where my leaves were dying -- but does that mean the tree is dead? absolutely not. spring would come. my life would be reborn with a new focus taking over. 

this being said -- i’ve always been one of those people that holds onto the past. i always wanted to be solid, non-changing, someone with convictions that they carried along from life. i think this stems from experiencing the death of a close friend while i was very young. i cherished the memories associated with her to the point where i didn’t want to lose the person i was when i knew her. so that’s always complicated change for me -- made the moments where the last leaves fell from the autumn trees that much harder. sure, spring was on its way, but what did that mean? would i lose the memories and the moments when my leaves where at their brilliance the previous season? or would i still carry those with me? what if i needed to correct course and completely rewrite who i was over the past -- would that mean losing who i was when i was loved by those i valued in the past? of course not -- but for some reason the more emotional sides of me didn’t see things in such a fluid way. lost was more profound when i was younger because it was also accompanied with these fears over the loss of my identity. 

as i’ve gotten older i’ve realized that identity can have staying power whilst also being something that is fluid. transmuting something doesn’t mean destroying or overwriting it. it means building upon the base and modifying it so that things are more brilliant. the me that existed before and during my long-term relationship was the same me i’d carry into the future, but with many more improvements for my own wellbeing and ability to express myself. for me, autumn leaves is just that. whilst on the surface it may convey the emotions of a breakup -- it also simply conveys the feelings that we get when we progress from one period of life to another. we leave parts of ourselves behind in order to improve. does that mean we are fundamentally changed? absolutely not. it means that we have learned from the past -- that we have made progress. in the same way that trees grow and change over the years. perhaps they look differently (taller, greener in hue? more branches?) but they still provide us with lushness and shade. 

personal connection: perhaps i’ve jumped ahead... i’ve already delved into this in the feelings section. that being said... i hope that my story can bring comfort to someone else. or perhaps help you all think about the ways in which bangtan songs can promote healing in your own lives. 

since my initial experience with the song i’ve had many other moments where i’ve turned to autumn leaves for comfort. i didn’t just leave it in the past -- it’s come with me as i’ve gotten older and moved into new spaces in my life. particularly i quite literally moved and started a huge new chapter in my life. and on this, autumn leaves has been a song i frequently find myself searching for. there’s a line in the song that resonates with me -- it’s in the bridge: “i hold on to these faded memories / is this greed? / i try to look back on these lost seasons / i try to turn back” 

initially i’d been excited for my big move from atlanta to washington dc. i thought it’d be the moment where i finally showed people back home that i wasn’t a failure, that all the pride i’d held in myself and my intellectual accomplishments was valid... but partnered with that came the intensive homesickness, the feeling of being an alien. i wasn’t really welcome here in dc. i still don’t feel welcome, but that’s a story for another day - another song. the reality is though, i moved just as the seasons turned to fall. it felt like my old life was falling away, i was bidding adieu my old life -- the community that had raised me since i was eighteen -- it was all gone. i was scared, terrified my friends wouldn’t keep in touch, afraid i’d have to change who i was to experience success (mask my accent, dye my hair, use the language of the elites)... while it’s not a breakup in the way the autumn leaves reads, i felt like i was having to plead with myself not to let go of who i was just for the sake of being accepted here, or for the sake of making my day to day life easier. the beat of the song brought me comfort as i walked to school, where i received the fake smiles of professors and classmates... i pleaded with myself -- to never let the parts of me that had gotten me to where i was fall away... to always let those dead leaves be the fertilizer for who i was becoming, for the me that would deliver myself closer to my dreams. 

even now -- i listen to autumn leaves and think about what i’m going to carry forward as the seasons change and we begin to work our way into a new normal in this pandemic. what parts of me will remain? what relationships will i keep? what *should* fall away, and what will i beg to keep around rather it’s healthy or not? i’m not sure. but closing my eyes and listening to the steady sound of autumn leaves brings me nothing but comfort. 

song breakdown

musically: autumn leaves is one of the most iconic songs from the HYYH era. the beat is iconic, the mix of vocal line and rap line from verse to chorus is completely seamless, it’s almost like a ballad rap (so iconic of the HYYH era, with songs like love is not over). the asian style beats, and synth... the sounds of the song are flawless from start to finish. the underlying beat of the song is so smooth, it feels almost like constant crashing waves, the ebb and flow of the beat with a few accents to highlight the emotional pick-ups of the verses. 

now -- it was controversial at the time -- many claim that autumn leaves samples beats from deadroses by blackbear. rather that’s true or not, i don’t know. but i find that listening to both songs back to back, they’re speaking to a lot of similar themes but with their own distinct sound and messages. there’s something about the genius of the back beat mixed with the emotionally charged rapping that sets autumn leaves apart -- also the use of vocal line is completely distinct and adds to the emotion in the sound. 

vocally: i don’t have as much to say about the vocals in this song. they’re beautiful, with vocal providing honey belts throughout the choruses, which sound more like a repeated bridge. we also see the slower, more emotionally accented rap style from each of rapline. the integration of the vocals and rap are iconically HYYH and BTS. we see the raps pick up, and slow down providing for pre-choruses to build into the beautiful vocal ballad ranges. 

autumn leaves performed live -- it’s something incredible. something i’m thankful i was able to experience. bangtan obviously never disappoint, but you can really hear the emotions in their voice with autumn leaves. the perfect adlibs, the changing rap paces, the roughness of rapline’s lower registers... it delivers the sadder themes of the song perfectly. 

lyrically: time for a DEEP dive yet again. autumn leaves is about change, the loss of a love. of course meanings can be layered, it can be about change, but on the very surface its a song about loss of love because of changes over time. 

jin and jungkook start out the song beautifully. the lyrics lead in directly addressing the theme: “fall like those dry leaves / just falling without strength, my love.” indicating that the song is like a letter - it’s a message to a love. the speaker is comparing their situation to a dead leaf, useless... time has run out... time to leave and fade away... something new to come a replace. falling without strength, it seems as if the speaker is saying they’ve got no more fight in them anymore, they’ve given up and realized continuing the fight is futile. it’s time to just let everything fall away, fade into black. “your heart just goes far away / i can’t catch you / i can’t catch you anymore, anymore / i can’t hold onto you, yeah” as much as the speaker would like to hold onto the moment they are in, hold onto the person they’re with... they can’t anymore. the other person is too far away. time has led to them drifting further apart, their relationship falling away like a dead leaf.

yoongi starts off the first rap, leading in with heavy emotions and continuing the story, and theme of a tree moving into fall. “those fallen leaves that look so insecure / seem like they’re looking at us.” the leaves have already fallen off the tree now, they’re dead on the ground -- peering back up at the speaker and their partner. i interpret this as the leaves are looking back at something they used to be a part of, something familiar to them, just as leaves are a part of our lives, trees spectating our lives as we live. these leaves were a part of their lives -- and now they’re gone, a piece is dead now. “if i touch your hand, even if it’s all at once / it seems like it’ll all become crumbs” -- this line illustrates again the analogy that the leaves are like the speaker’s significant other, someone that might just crumble away like it was never even there before, like a dream, it’s that distant. “i only looked / with the autumn wind” the seasons have changed, it’s that time, it’s been that time, and now the wind is a force that finally pushing the leaf off the tree, finally pushing the relationship or moment of life to end. “your words and expressions that become cold at some point / i can see that our relationship is fading / an empty relationship like the autumn sky” this line directly refers to the relationship like the seasons -- there was a spring, beautiful and blooming, love blossomed. and in summer it burned. but as time went on, the clouds went away and the rain stopped (the autumn sky doesn’t bring the spring showers to nurture the relationship anymore) and the fire consumed everything, burning it out and leaving nothing. “an ambiguous difference compared to before / today of all days, the much quieter night” there’s nothing left -- there no more crackle of the fire burning, no more love. it’s empty, and gone. but nobody knew when it became this way or why, it just did. “one lead left clinging to a branch / it’s shattering, i see the end.” there’s something hanging on -- perhaps it’s just the memory -- perhaps it’s just the part of them that is afraid of change, that wishes they could stay in the warmth. but even so, it’s beginning to crumble, it’s beginning the process to fall away. “dead leaves becoming dried / the silence inside your aloof heart / please don’t leave me / please don’t leave me, crumbling dead leaves” from dead to dried, the emphasis is made that at some point things have moved past ending or that they have been done for quite some time and for them to now also be dried. that being said they’re dried, not gone, the memories exist the emotions have left their place. someday the marks of this relationship will impact and provide the basis for another with someone else -- for better or worse.

then, we reach the bridge-like chorus. it’s simple in lyrics despite emotion packed in tone. “i want the you that meets my eyes / i want the you that wants me again” this line indicates that the partner in this situation has walked away and had decided not to even acknowledge the speaker. to pretend they don’t exist, to remove them from their life -- perhaps to not even keep them as a memory. “please don’t leave me / please don’t fall / never never fall / don’t go far away” the speaker begins to beg, holding onto the last few minutes of whatever they believe is left of the relationship. the begging of “don’t fall” is at odds with the previous verse about a leaf already fallen -- perhaps the chorus is coming from a more desperate state, or a moment before the inevitable happened (the season changed, the leaves fell). 

the post chorus brings in jin and continues with the same lament - the same desperate begging. “baby you, girl i can’t let you go / baby you, girl i can’t give up on you” the speaker is determined to hold onto the moment before the final fall. they are unwilling to let it all go -- hanging on to the last moments but also to the memories it seems. “like those falling dry leaves / this love, like dry leaves / never never fall / it’s fading.” at this point the chorus has progressed to where the leaves are fading and falling -- morphing into something that is no longer a leaf anymore. what is the speaker holding onto any more? just as memories too fade -- is there anything even left?

the next verse brings in namjoon, it plays off of the themes and tones in yoongi’s verse. it begins with the leaves already having fallen. there’s no more grasping onto what was, it’s much more about moving on and the ways the memory frames our ability to go forward. “like all the dry leaves fall / like all the things i thought would last forever are leaving / you are my fifth season” the speaker couldn’t imagine this happening -- a fifth season, there is no such thing. the leaves have fallen, despite him never imagining that it would occur, he’s dumbstruck. there’s a level of naivety here -- speaking to the things they thought would last forever -- which harkens back to the entire HYYH era theme. youth. learning growth. namjoon is speaking to new steps in life happening after finding out that what was familiar and comfortable is gone, and will not return as he is stepping into a fifth season and uncharted territory. “even if i try to see you, i can’t look / you’re still green to me / even if the heart doesn’t move, it moves by itself / lingering feelings hung out piece by piece like laundry” namjoon is charging here that he’s placing more emphasis on the past and the memories he holds rather than wanting to confront the reality that the other person has changed. they’re still green - young, fresh, healthy... he can’t help but still be in love because he cannot confront the fact that the other person has in fact changed. and at the same time all of this change and loss has made him raw, he cannot conceal his feelings even when doing mundane day to day things... his emotions hung out for all to see. “only crimson memories fall / from above me / even if my branch doesn’t shake / they constantly fall” the colors have changed from green to crimson, he is forgetting the hard times -- the memories that are rotten. the other memories, even if he keeps trying to hang onto them, they’re also going - being tainted by the dark and unhappy reality of things begin done. “right, my love must fall / in order to rise” he realizes, he need to cut the baggage, cut his false belief that things are still good, so that he can start a new season and try again. embrace his youth once again and heal. “even when you’re near, my two eyes / are far away, it’s happening / i’m being thrown away like this / inside my memories, i become young again” he emphasizes again that he cannot confront the reality of loss of this other person but realizes that it’s completely out of his control - he is the one being thrown. but he knows he can retreat to whatever space he needs to in order to cope or heal, he can hide inside his youth in his mind. he can stay there until he heals and can emerge once again. 

the chorus the repeats again, but this time it moves into the beautifully delivered bridge by taehyung. he begins with his low and smooth range “why can’t i give up on you yet / i hold on to these faded memories” which calls directly to namjoon’s verse. the seasons are changing, but he cannot let go of the past. things are fading but they remain his refuge. “is this greed? / i try to look back on these lost seasons / i try to turn back” he begins to realize that there’s an element to these emotions that might be toxic, that he wants but he knows he cannot have what he wants, or that he wants too much. he wishes he could retreat back to the summer, or the spring. turn back time and hide in those brighter moments. 

the final verse is beautifully delivered with hoseok’s unique style. he offers an unexpected conclusion to the hopelessness of yoongi’s verse and the denial and dismissal in namjoon’s. “burn them brightly, woosh / it was all beautiful, right, our path / but they’ve all faded” hoseok remembers fondly the memories, reflects positively on the way that things had been going... but he recognizes that that path exists no more -- those leaves are dead and gone. he uses the word “burn” which is often what happens with dead leaves, they’re burning brightly those memories -- like they’re seared into his mind and heart. they’ll never leave his essence. “dry leaves come down like tears / the wind blows and everything grows apart all day” this line beautifully captures the mourning process and the confusion that follows -- the learning to unlearn and untangle your life from another person’s. to move away from something that was so permanent in your life and mind. “the rain is falling and you’re shattering / until the very last leaf, you you you” the weather references in this verse are fitting for the theme of seasons but they also take control away from the speaker - make reference to the fact that even as they speaker would like to, he cannot control his emotions just like he cannot control the situation and relationship coming to an end. the very last leaf -- he tried to hold on, he waited till the end, but finally the hope is gone. 

the chorus repeats with some additional lines bracketing it by taehyung. ultimately the song leaves us with a feeling of being unsettled as things came to an ended. time passed by and things changed -- and end was inevitable. memories are what is left to hold onto. seasons change, just like we grow up or change. things in our lives will run their course, especially relationships. we learn from them, and even if we don’t want them to -- they leave scars... no matter how much we plead. but the reality is, we can retreat to whatever place in our mind or memory that we need to in order to repair ourselves to try again.

performance: the main video that is available online for autumn leaves is a performance from HYYH on tour. i cannot pinpoint the location of the filming, but it is the same as it was when i saw BTS live in 2016 in macau for HYYH the epilogue on tour. you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrM53Y9hHV0&ab_channel=lestwins1524 

the performance is very much understated but beautiful. vocals and raps are delivered with more emotion than was captured in the recorded version. members do not perform any choreographed dances, but lights and graphics highlight each member as they come into focus to deliver their portion of the song. it’s beautiful and it’s just what was needed to portray the emotion and depth of the themes in autumn leaves. 

in my own personal experience, seeing this song performed live was incredibly profound. the entire arena was silent. all eyes on bangtan and listening for each of the incredibly raw verses to be peformed. the crisp emotion laden in the vocal line choruses. the song is beautiful. it’s somber and mature. it exemplifies the drama of the HYYH era -- with lyrical and performance genius that is unparalleled. i’ve uploaded to this post my horrible video but i hope you enjoy ~~

tl;dr: autumn leaves might seem like another breakup song, but there’s more to it. it beautifully emphasizes the power of memory, time passage, and the desire to hold onto past versions of themselves. which for many listeners is far more profound than just a breakup -- there’s so many times when we need to leave behind moments in our lives, friends, family members... and while we want to hold onto something that is familiar, we can’t. they’re leaving, we are moving on... seasons come and go no matter how much we wish they’d just stay constant. dead leaves fall away, even when we’d wish the summer and spring would stay, they can’t. life is cyclical in nature. which harkens us back to the themes in spring day as well. the sun will always come out, the seasons will change... but we have to confront the fact that sometimes we will experience pain, loss, and change. 

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it. 

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink. 

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again. 

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to  change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. 

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love. 

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less. 

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there. 

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book. 

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research. 

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.  

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

E

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood. 

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes. 

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik, 

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor. 

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome. 

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.  

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee 

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him. 

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What? 

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man. 

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.  

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe. 

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp. 

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now. 

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet. 

“Here goes nothing.”

--- 

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister? 

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question. 

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate? 

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.” 

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik. 

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.” 

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her. 

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down. 

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee. 

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee. 

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space. 

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok. 

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it. 

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!  

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly.  Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love. 

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

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[mdelpin]

Male Order Bride - Chapter 2

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Chapter 2

Gray examined the crowd of people, attempting to figure out what they were doing there. There were a lot of young couples in attendance, which seemed strange for an old building away from the town center. Several recognized him and offered a friendly wave.

It appeared Lyon hadn’t caught the guy yet, as he observed some of his father’s hirdmen walking around the room and studying the faces of those assembled. Gray was further impressed by the fire mage, although considering his outlandish appearance, it probably wouldn’t be long before they found him. He kept an eye out, hoping to catch sight of him again.

Gray continued to explore the large room, careful to avoid any attempts at conversation. He noticed a platform at the back decorated in silver and blue, the colors of Isvan, while a colorful sign welcomed everyone to the Isvan Employment Auction.

Employment Auction? He’d never heard of that before.

“What are you doing here? I thought I heard Erza say you went home.”

Gray recognized Lyon’s voice behind him and turned to smirk at his friend. “Never thought I’d see the day someone else would put you in your place.”

“It’s just a matter of time. He’s in here somewhere.”

Lyon didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, instead looking around the room with an odd smile. “This place takes me back.”

“Huh? Back to what?”

“Don’t you remember? This is where your Dad found Ur and hired her to take care of your sorry ass.”

“Here?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot we met later.” Lyon pointed to the platform, “Right up there. The organizers had demanded I wait in some back room, but Ur wouldn’t have it. Your dad came to see what the commotion was. That’s how they met.”

“What is this place?”

“Well, most of the time it serves as a storage building for merchant cargo, with the occasional dock worker meeting thrown in. But twice a year it hosts this employment thing for women. They can get hired as governesses, teachers, housekeepers, nannies, you name it. Ur had heard about it when we were in Brago. It’s what brought us here, actually. She’d wanted us to start a new life. You know, after everything.”

Back then, Gray hadn’t cared about where Ur and Lyon had come from, but he struggled to accept that Ur’s introduction into his life had stemmed from anywhere so ordinary.

He’d resented her at first, convinced she was trying to replace his mother. But once her magic lessons began, he’d cast all those feelings aside. Ur was strong. Stronger than any other ice mage he’d ever met. He’d figured if he worked hard and learned everything he could from her, he’d soon be able to avenge his mother and grandfather, and the countless others who had died at the hands of that foul demon. Lyon had been the perfect training partner, equally determined to push through all their limits.

Why had he never thought to ask him why? He’d always known Ur wasn’t Lyon’s mother, but it startled him to realize that even after all these years, he had no clue how they’d ended up together. Lyon was the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother, and it disheartened him to realize how little he truly knew about him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance as a man he recognized as Invel Yura, one of his father’s advisors, stepped onto the platform and commanded everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s Winter Employment Auction.”

The participants crowded around the platform eagerly, applauding the announcement.

“As many of you might know, our late Chief, Sterling Fullbuster, founded the Employment Auction over twenty-five years ago.” Invel peered at the audience, smiling when he recognized Gray.

“An ardent supporter of women’s rights, Chief Sterling sought to create a safe environment for women to find employment in our great town. Over the years, we have helped place hundreds of women, and as word of our experiment has reached other towns, we have seen increased participation. We are proud to continue this tradition, and we hope that our future Chief, who is with us today, will see fit to continue it for many years to come.”

Gray groaned internally, even as he smiled and waved at those who acknowledged him, realizing he now had no choice but to stay until the conclusion of the event. He attempted but failed to ignore Lyon’s laughter at his predicament. With a parting clap on the shoulder, Lyon informed him he was returning to his search, promising to check in with him later.

He listened as Invel followed his introduction with an explanation of how the auction worked. It seemed to be divided into three phases. In the first phase, employers received a clipboard with several bid forms and were allotted two hours to interview candidates. Each candidate wore a pin on her right shoulder that showed her identification number.

Once time was up, the second phase began. Employers submitted their bids at the platform, placing them into envelopes marked with the candidate’s identification number. Each bid needed to describe the job duties and pay offered clearly.

During the third phase, all candidates would receive their envelopes. They would then evaluate the enclosed offers and pick out the job situation that most appealed to them. Should any issues arise, Invel would mediate them. Seemed simple enough.

With the explanation now at an end, Invel announced the candidates’ entrance and ceded the platform.

Gray was curious to see how many women were taking part, considering the number of people present, but Invel’s approach blocked his view.

Invel bowed his head briefly, and then immediately launched into a scolding. “This is most unusual, Master Gray. All prospective employers must pass a thorough investigation before being allowed to take part. It is one of the safety measures we’ve set in place. Given your position, however, I will allow it this one time. In the future, see that you submit a request in advance.”

Invel thought he was here to hire someone? For what, court jester? Lyon already filled that role nicely. Still, it was easier to play along than attempt to explain how he’d gotten there.

“I apologize, I wasn’t thinking. Thank you for your understanding.”

He accepted the clipboard Invel offered him with a polite smile.

“Of course,” Invel said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone trying to get my attention. Good luck.”

Gray killed time by walking around the room and trying to blend in, half-listening to conversations around him while keeping an eye out for his mystery man. He still found it hard to believe Ur had been a part of one of these. None of the participants seemed remotely like her. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he recognized one candidate.

Shit! What in Hel’s name was Lucy Heartfilia doing here? She’d been the last girl he’d sent home before Juvia. Was she here because of that? Should he go talk to her?

Just as he was deciding it would be best for him to avoid her, another girl joined her. One that immediately drew his interest. Her steps were awkward, and she seemed ill at ease in the formal clothes. Her walk reminded him of a young Erza proudly showing off her first pair of heels, even though she could barely walk in them.

Her pink hair came down to her shoulders in loose waves, while the blue gown she wore contrasted nicely against her tanned skin. At first glance, Gray merely thought her a beautiful girl, until he got a good glimpse at her face.

His eyes widened as he recognized the features. He forgot all about avoiding Lucy, compelled by the need to know if he was right.

“Hi Lucy.”

“Gray.”

Her tone was not welcoming in the slightest, but he ignored it, smiling at her as if they were old friends. His gaze soon shifted to her companion, hoping to force her to speak. If he was right about who she was, she’d try to avoid it.

“Hello, I’m Gray Fullbuster, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Gray offered his hand in greeting. The girl had been about to shake it when Lucy noticed.

“Natsu!”

The girl’s hand stopped in midair, and she peered at Lucy in confusion. Gray smirked, that was one point for him.

“Natsu, that’s a lovely name, and something we could certainly use a lot more of in Isvan.”

She tilted her head, frowning cutely at him.

“It means summer, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it does,” Natsu replied in a silken voice, which was not at all what Gray had been expecting. Could he be wrong? Was she just a small-town girl who’d come to Isvan in search of a job and was understandably nervous?

“What sorts of jobs are you interested in?”

“We’re looking to be nannies, or governesses. Something I know you’re not in any need of, so if you’ll just excuse us,” Lucy grabbed Natsu’s hand and yanked her away towards a young couple.

Natsu tried to keep up, but ended up losing her balance. Gray was quick to catch her, and as he did, he felt her magic flare, materializing into a thin layer of flames that traveled across her arms.

“Let go of me!”

She struggled in his arms; the flames spreading as she did so, skirting ever closer to the fabric of her dress. Gray’s eyes darted up to follow their path, noting absently that her pin had the number seven emblazoned on it. “I don’t want to hur-.”

“Steady there,” Gray interrupted, smiling down at her as he called on his magic, coating her arms in an icy mist that quickly put out the flames before they could blaze out of control.

Natsu’s jaw dropped as Gray dispelled his flames, “How did you do that?”

Gray wasn’t able to respond right away, for after the initial satisfaction at having succeeded, he’d peered into Natsu’s eyes and now found himself utterly lost in them. He’d never seen any more beautiful. Bursts of green converged on a gold-rimmed pupil, reminding him of the early morning nature walks he’d once taken with his mother in the summers. And when those eyes met his, Gray couldn’t help but recognize the fear and desperation that lurked in their depths.

Pink hair, tanned skin, fire magic, fear - not to mention the awkward way she carried herself. Everything pointed to this being the guy Lyon was after but made up to look and sound like a strikingly beautiful woman. Hell, he’d done such a good job it would even convince Silver.

Natsu must have gotten help from someone here. No, not someone. Gray knew exactly who.

Lucy Heartfilia.

What was her magic? He wracked his brain but couldn’t remember, and that more than anything forced him to acknowledge he'd barely paid any attention to her during their meeting, or to any of the others. But none of that mattered right now because he had a choice to make.

“I just used my magic to push yours back,” Gray finally replied, struggling to keep his voice level so as not to give away that he knew Natsu’s identity.

Natsu gazed at him, his mouth suddenly breaking into a lopsided grin that elicited a strange fluttering in Gray’s chest and complicated his thoughts further.

“Let’s gooo, Natsu,” Lucy urged, and while Natsu had seemed ready to protest, she spun around and followed.

Gray turned to see what had spooked her and spotted Lyon walking swiftly towards them. He could tell from his friend’s expression that he’d already reached the same conclusion.

What should he do, which side should he take?

Gray was the future Chief of Isvan. He knew well that his thoughts should be on the danger this man could pose to his people. But that brief interaction had shown him his instincts had been correct. Natsu didn’t appear to have control over his magic, and Gray had sensed no malice coming from him. In fact, it had been just the opposite. He'd acted terrified when his magic had flared. It just didn’t add up.

Still, Lyon was his best friend, his foster brother, and he didn’t want to get him in trouble either.

Then Gray thought about how his heart had felt at the sight of that grin and how he’d considered Natsu’s appearance could fool even Silver, and a plan formed in his mind.

Confident that Natsu didn’t pose a danger to Isvan, Gray considered pursuing a different choice. One that could both help him and protect Natsu from the hird until he could learn control of his magic.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Gray became it was the only way to get out of this wedding mess. If he could persuade Natsu to pretend to be his fiancee, he wouldn’t have to marry Juvia and it would give him time to see if something could blossom between them.

He grabbed Lyon by the arm, ignoring his protests as he searched for a place where they could speak privately.

“We need to talk.”

0-0

Gray found a small office near the building’s entrance and shoved Lyon inside. He closed the door behind them and launched into a swift explanation of his plan, but Lyon wouldn’t even let him finish.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re being unreasonable. Erza said no one was hurt in any of the fires. You must have felt his magic signature. If that were his intent, why only target abandoned buildings?”

“To gauge our response for when he launches his actual attack.”

Gray groaned as he recognized Lyon’s stubborn streak kicking in. He didn’t have time to argue. For his plan to work, he’d need to put a bid in soon.

“What did you expect me to say?” Lyon crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about this guy, and what little you know points to him being a criminal.”

“He’s terrified. I could see it in his eyes when he lost control a few moments ago. You didn’t see his face when I pushed his fire back. He was relieved.”

“He lost control here?! That’s even more reason to keep him away from our house. He could hurt everyone we care about.”

Lyon had that I know better than you expression on his face that Gray hated with every fiber of his being.

“While surrounded by ice mages?” he snapped, struggling to keep his temper in check despite Lyon’s attitude. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped Lyon would be more willing to see his side. Screw it, if logic wouldn’t work then he’d go for pity. It’s not like he wasn’t desperate.

“When I talked with him earlier, I felt something.”

“You just met him, Gray.”

“I know that, but feeling something is already more than the nothing I feel for Juvia. And if I don’t find someone soon, I’ll have no choice but to marry her on my birthday. Fader said so after you left.”

“He said that?”

Lyon looked away, the first outward sign that he was weakening.

“Time’s up, please enter your bids now,” Invel’s voice echoed through the building’s speaker lacrima, injecting an air of urgency to their conversation.

Lyon had shifted his gaze back to him, his eyes boring into him for what seemed like a lifetime. Gray held his breath, worried the slightest gesture from him might work against him.

“I won’t pretend to understand the attraction you feel toward guys, but I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Ur forced me into a marriage.” He remained silent for a few more moments before announcing, “I’m so going to regret this.”

It took Gray a full minute for the meaning to seep into his brain, but once it did, he beamed with excitement. “I knew I could count on you!”

Lyon grinned, “You mean you knew you could con me.”

Gray didn’t have time to refute the charge as Lyon swiftly turned serious, “Just promise me you’ll be careful,”

“I will.”

And he meant it. He understood the trust Lyon was placing in him, and he would do his best to be worthy of it.

“I gotta go put in my bid,” Gray reached for the doorknob, but Lyon grabbed his arm.

“Hold on there, Romeo. You’re going to have to hire someone for real.”

“What? Why?”

“Invel saw you, dumbass. I’m sure he’ll mention it to Silver. If you only show up with your dream girl, Silver will know something’s up.”

“Oh.”

Gray hadn’t considered that, but had to admit it made sense. Who could he hire and for what? The only other person he’d talked to was Lucy, and he was pretty sure she hated his guts.

But if she’d helped Natsu, he should probably monitor her too, just in case he was wrong about all this.

“Oh, and Gray?” Lyon said as Gray opened the door.

Gray turned his head impatiently, waiting to hear what Lyon had to say, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

“If he refuses your offer, I will arrest him.”

Gray scowled at the words but nodded his understanding. He’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

As Lyon issued new orders to his men through his communication lacrima, Gray offered a silent prayer to his favorite deity.

He had a feeling Loki would understand where he was coming from..

0-0

“I can’t wait to see how many bids I got!” Lucy said as they stood with the other candidates, waiting for the organizer to arrive with their envelopes.

“I just want to get out of here.”

The last two hours had been incredibly stressful for Natsu. He’d felt ill at ease with all the stares and attempts at conversation, not to mention the uncomfortable clothes Lucy had forced him to wear. It had taken all of his self-control not to run out of there. When that light blue-haired hirdman had walked towards them, he’d thought he’d get arrested for sure.

The organizer finally got to them, checking the numbers on their pins against the large envelopes he was carrying and handing them each one. They both thanked him.

“I bet you I got a bunch,” Lucy said while opening her envelope, “I was killing it out there!”

Natsu held on to his envelope but didn’t bother opening it, assuming it was empty. Instead, he watched the expressions of the other women with interest. There were a lot of happy tears, and it made him feel good that things had gone well for them.

“One?! I got one stinking offer? Don’t these people know who I am?”

Natsu turned his attention back to Lucy, alarmed by the loudness of her voice. “Hey Lucy, can you keep it down? We’re trying to avoid attention, remember?”

“Right,” Lucy said, her voice coming back down to normal levels. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I stuck around here for this I thought I’d have lots of choices, you know?”

“Well, but one is better than none, right?”

“I suppose.”

“What’s it for, anyway? Is it from that guy that kept staring at your boobs?” Natsu nudged her with his shoulder, trying to get her out of her foul mood.

“Ew, I hope not,” Lucy giggled, “You’re right though, I bet it’s gonna be something great, and at least I won’t have to go back home.”

He should have realized her sudden silence wasn’t a good sign, but he was too busy thinking about how he couldn’t wait to get back into his clothes to notice. His thoughts wandered back to that ice mage, wishing he’d been able to talk to him longer and ask him for help with his problem. He’d seemed like an okay guy.

“That sonofabitch! Does he think he’s funny? Is that it? Is he trying to ruin my life?”

Lucy continued to rant, getting progressively louder. All the other candidates had moved away from them and the man who had handed them their envelopes was making his way towards them, his features set in a scowl. Natsu wanted nothing more than to leave his friend there and make a run for it, ridiculous shoes and all. He could feel his magic surging and his panic mounted.

“Shh, Lucy, please!”

Natsu closed his eyes, resigned to his imminent arrest, this time for disturbing the peace.

“Invel, you may return to your duties, I’ll handle this.”

“Of course, Master Gray, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

“You!”

The venom in Lucy’s voice surprised Natsu but not as much as recognizing the other voice. It belonged to the guy who had caught him earlier, who, now that he thought about it, had acted as if he knew Lucy. His pulse sped up as he realized there was still a chance to ask him for help.

“So, you finally found someone who wasn’t quite so... what was it you said? Oh yes, perky,” Lucy seethed, “and now you want me to be your nanny? Do you even know what your little stunt cost me?”

“Look, I’m sorry about the whole turning you down thing,” Gray said, “It was nothing personal, okay? I’m sure you’re perfect.”

“Damn right I am!”

Natsu looked from one to the other, completely lost to what was going on.

“Could you keep your voice down?” Gray hissed, “I just want a minute to plead my case before you decide.”

“She only got the one offer,” Natsu revealed without thinking.

“Seriously?” Gray laughed, “Must be her charming personality.”

Natsu wanted to laugh at the retort, but he knew better than to provoke Lucy when she was seriously pissed. “Dude, you are so not helping your case.”

He frowned, hating how strange his voice sounded.

“Oh, right.” Gray ran his fingers through his hair, and flashed a sheepish grin that, while oddly distracting to Natsu, did nothing to placate Lucy.

“Well, you can take your job offer and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.”

Gray’s shoulders slumped at her words, “I already said I was sorry, didn’t I? Besides, I only wrote nanny cause it was something you were considering. You can do whatever you want. If you’d bothered to look at the actual offer, you’d see the pay is more than fair.”

Lucy examined the paper, her eyes widening as she read the offer over, finally looking up at Gray with a guarded expression. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll be happy to explain, but not here. I’ll need both of you for what I have in mind. Well, to be honest, it’s up to Natsu. If she doesn’t agree, then the offer is off,” Gray said, turning to Natsu.

“You want my help?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see my offer?”

“There’s something in here?” Natsu opened his envelope, saw there were several pieces of paper inside, and snapped it shut quickly.

“Well? Let’s see it,” Lucy gave him a curious glance, “What did he put down on yours?”

“Um, it doesn’t matter. He can just tell me.”

“Honestly, I’d rather you read it, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It, uh, doesn’t matter what it is,” Natsu said, hiding the envelope behind his back, “I’m happy to do it as long you promise to help me with my magic.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Gray looked relieved and Natsu wondered what he’d just gotten himself into, but it didn’t really matter. Lucy had saved him from the hirdmen, and it seemed as if she wouldn’t have a job if he didn’t accept. Plus, he wasn’t afraid of hard work, and getting help in controlling his increasingly erratic magic would make it worth his while.

“Alright, then you have yourself a deal,” Natsu offered his hand to seal the deal, not knowing how to respond when Gray pulled it up to his mouth for a kiss instead of shaking it.

It was then he understood two things. First, why Lucy had yelled at him earlier. It hadn’t occurred to him that girls rarely shook hands. Second, and by far the most important, Gray thought he was a girl.

He was about to clear that up when a more pressing issue presented itself. The hirdman who’d been chasing him earlier walked up to them, and although Natsu desperately wanted to run away, he knew he couldn’t do that without giving himself away. He only hoped that the guy would leave quickly and not look at him too closely.

“Everything okay over here, Gray?”

“Everything’s fine!” Gray smiled, “I’d like you to meet Natsu. And you remember Lucy?”

“Yes, of course, lovely to see you again, Lucy,” The hirdman bowed slightly to both of them, gazing at Natsu with open curiosity.

“Natsu love, I’d like you to meet Lyon, my foster brother.”

That guy was Gray’s foster brother?!

That complicated everything! How could he tell Gray the truth about who he was now?

He couldn’t and he didn’t like what that implied. The more agitated he became, the more his magic roared, itching to get out. Natsu had almost given up on containing it when Gray placed his hand on the small of his back, reining in the fire that churned inside him with one simple gesture.

Natsu didn't understand the how or why of it, but it made him realize that the safest place for him right now was by Gray’s side, at least until he could regain control of his magic. So he met Lyon’s gaze and flashed him his most disarming smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

[wildlittlefoxsworld]

Loving you against all odds | The Old Guard | Andy x Fem!Reader

Part 1

A/N: I got this idea from a prompt of @promptsforthestrugglingauthor.

You find it here.

Summary: Andy meet the reader in San Francisco in 1929. The reader is twenty-three years old and will marry her fianceé in a few weeks. Andy and the reader get very close, but is this enough for the reader to stop the wedding? Leaving her family to be together with Andy? A family curse makes the reader's life difficult and the reader will need to fight for what her heart desires.

Warnings: slow burn, family curse, minor character death and temporary main character death (in later parts), soft Andy, more tags follow

The Old Guard Masterlist

***

San Francisco, 1929

As the firstborn, you had never worried about the family curse; every second child was doomed to short life of misfortune, but everyone else was left unharmed.

But after your father passed and your mother remarried a partner with a child older than you, you discovered that the curse considered step-siblings as part of the order. But you only noticed it when it was almost too late.

The life of your younger sister Mary, the second the child of your mother, was filled with castastrophic incidents since the day she was born. As a premature infant the pediatrists gave her a loss expectation of life, but your mother called Mary a miracle when she was allowed to take yor sister home after twenty weeks in the children's hospital.

Mary was of slight build, always smaller as the children of her age, caused by the consequences of two months born premature. Children were cruel and made fun of her. You were three years older than her, which made you her protector on the schoolyard. It was something your mother had wished for, but you were well-informed about the family curse. Unlike your mother you understood the impacts the curse had on Mary. Everyone were powerless, nobody could stem Mary's future of never ending misery.

Nobody, until the day your mother married a rich, kind-hearted man named Chandler Prescott. His first wife died a few years ago and together they had a son, Jonah Prescott. Handsome, tall, icy-blue eyes, dark-brown hair. A boy that broke every girl's heart one day. You never hated him, nor did you liked him.

The summer you, Mary and your mother moved in with the Prescotts will you never forget, it was very sticky for early June and you remembered the smell of azaleas, this time changed your life irrevocable.

You were curious of the new town where you lived now. Unknown and mysterious places to discover, but always the voice of your father in the back of your head: never trust strangers. You did follow this rule on every day and it came a day when you didn't. In a little café a half hour by feet away from your home, you met a brunette women, a few years older, maybe in her early thirties. Pretty green eyes, tall, slim figure, very athlectic. You couldn't tell what was special about the woman, but you were impressed by her.

The curve of her mouth formed a charming smile and you felt your stomach doing a flip. It was a foreign feeling when you looked at her, but you ignored it and left the café hurriedly.

The next Wednesday you found your way miraculously back to the little café you liked so much. And there was a spark of hope you would see the stunning woman with the green eyes again. Your eyes roamed the room for her, but you were dissapointed when she wasn't anywhere to find.

“Hello,” spoke a melodic voice behind you and you flinched slightly. You turned your head and looked at the woman that haunted your mind for an entire week. “Hi,” you replied shyly.

“I hoped to meet you again,” she acknowledged and smiled at you. Her gaze was earnestly and you felt your cheeks heating up. You had the same feeling in your stomach as last Wednesday, it was familiar with your typical reaction when a handsome man had complimented you.

“I'm glad to see you. My apologies… for leaving so fast … last week.” You wondered that her presence made you nervous and stuttering. “Well, you came back today,” she appreciated.

She told you her name was Andy. No surname. You respected it and she was relieved that you didn't ask questions about her origin. You spend the whole afternoon together, time flew by like the wind. You talked about casual things, your childhood and parents, but the curse wasn't a topic. And Andy simply listened. You had the feeling that she was the first person in your life who was really interested in you. The moment for your goodbyes came and she hugged you like an old friend. You agreed to meet on next Wednesday at the same time.

At the weekend your mother was buzzing with excitement when the daily newspaper arrived and she read the announcement on page three that the heir, Aaron Grey, of the richest bank director of San Fracisco will marry you on 28th of July in St. Margret's Cathedral.

At twenty-three you could call yourself lucky to get a outstanding match with an noble man like Aaron Grey. You met him at one of the countless parties your step-father hosted. You danced the whole evening with Aaron and you fell in love his his dark brown eyes and warm-hearted laugh. At least you thought it was love you felt.

You couldn't await Wednesday. Andy sat at the same table and you sat down across from her. Her charming smile was back the second she looked at you and a warm feeling spreaded in your chest. You felt bad for the blink of an eye, because you never were so happy when Aaron smiled at you. But you brushed it off, you needed to know him better first.

You forget about Aaron on this afternoom completely. Andy spoke of the places she visited in her life and you decided that you want to see them, each of them. Andy chuckled and responded vague she would take you there someday, but you saw in her eyes she wished for it.

When you walked home, after you promised Andy to come next Wednesday, you thought about your up-coming wedding and if you should tell your new friend about it. Shouldn't you be happy to marry a good man like Aaron Grey. You weren't. In your mind were only green eyes and a charming smile.

Aaron picked you up for dinner with his parents in one these fancy restaurants at Friday night. His parents were very polite and friendly. Aaron and his father talked about business and his mother couldn't wait to have grandchildren. In your opinion the evening was a disaster. But you assured Aaron how lovely his parents were and you looked forward to marry him. You lied to him. You were dissapointed of the outlooks for your future, but you still hoped it will get better. Anyway you liked Aaron and you were sure he would be a caring husband.

The meetings with Andy on Wednesdays were becoming a routine. You entered the café punctual at 2.30 p.m. and spotted Andy in your usual corner. You learned she loved her coffee black, no milk or sugar. You approached her and noticed the white mug with hot chocolate. She remembered your favorite and you beamed with delight. A simple gesture that showed you she cared.

Your conversations were easy, you found always topics you could discuss and you were impressed how adept Andy was in arts, history, languages and travelling. She talked about those things like she had expierenced all of it, like she lived hundreds of lives. Yet you didn't know what she did for living, but you knew she lived with good friends in a cottage at the outskirts of town, near a forest with a lake. She was always vague with informations of her current life and spoke only about her past. One time you asked about her family and she went silent, her mouth a thin line and her eyes cold that it made you shivering, she answered they were passed away a long time ago. You never asked her again.

At home you didn't tell your mother or sister about Andy. She was your only friend here and you wanted something for yourself. You knew it was selfish, but you were sure Andy wouldn't like to be pomped for information about her life.

On the Wednesday three weeks before your wedding she brought you a gift. A box full of conch shells she collected all over the world in different shapes and colours. You loved it. You took a few in your hands and admired their beauty. But you had to admit you never saw more appealing or dazzling than Andy. Sadly you weren't brave enough to tell her. Little did you know she thought the same about you.

The box got a special place in your room.

A week later you had your usual drinks. Andy seemed pensive.

“Are you alright?” you asked her worriedly and knitted your brows together. Andy nodded slowly and glanced outside on the street. It was a sunny day, no cloud in the sky and pleasant warm.

“Would you like to take a walk? There's a park around the corner,” she suggested smiling suddenly. You were excited. You never went anywhere else with Andy than the café.

“Sounds good,” you agreed. Your mugs were already empty and you followed her out of the café. She walked elegant, her back straight and head up. Andy was confident and you wished sometimes you would be like her. She was free to go wherever she wanted and you would marry a man in one and half weeks who you didn't love. The more time you spend with Andy, the less you were in Aaron's company.

The park was marvelous, pink and red and yellow and white flowers everywhere. You weren't the only people here and you walked along the gravel walks.

“It's long a time ago that I was in park. Well, with someone else than the people I live with,” Andy confessed. “I feel honored,” you replied truthfully.

You knew that Andy didn't have many close friends and you were happy that she considered you as a friend. You were lost in thoughts and didn't notice that you went into an area of the park where was only Andy and you. You didn't mind privacy, but it took you by surprise when Andy interlaced your fingers with hers. You watched her with widened eyes, but when you noticed her insecurity, you felt sorry for your reaction. Your expression softened.

“Is this okay?” she asked carefully. You nodded smiling slightly and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Andy's touch, feeling her warm and smooth skin, made your heart beating faster and your stomach flutter. You thought a lot about the feelings you had for Andy and admitted it was more than a friendship between two women. You read about feelings for the same gender and it wasn't common in the society. But your private life wasn't an issue of the society. You knew your mother expected from you to marry and have children, but in this moment you got doubts if you could ever be a loving wife for Aaron and if the wedding was the right decision. Andy made you to question every decision of your potential future and you thought if you could have a future with Andy.

Andy savoured every minute with you. She felt so alive like she hadn't in centuries and you made her life brighter. She hoped that you cared for her as much as she cared for you. Andy was happy when you didn't pull your hand away and it was a milestone. She knew that you were mortal, but maybe the both of you could make it work, even if these thoughts were ridiculous.

Andy felt like someone watched you both behind her back and glanced over her left shoulder. Not far away stood Booker and nodded once. Something was wrong and she knew it was time for her to leave today.

“I'm devasted, Y/N, but I need to go. I know we usually spend more time together,” Andy declared and her heart ached a little when she saw you were dissapointed. “It has nothing to do with you. A friend need my help,” she added hastily.

Andy didn't want to leave you and she thought about what would make you smile. She looked down at your hands and got an risky idea. She lose your hands and pulled you in a gentle hug. She rubbed the small of your back and then shortly before she pulled back, a feathery kiss was pressed on your cheek. You felt your heart racing and the blush rised up your neck. The skin tingled where her lips touched and you smiled bashfully.

“I'm fine, Andy. Go help your friend,” you responded. Of course, you were sad that she wanted to leave so early. You only had one and a half hour together, usually you spend three to four in the café and you were glad about Andy's choice to walk in park. It made up for her early leaving.

With a small nod she went the way back you came before and you watched after her until you couldn't see her anymore.

*****

“She is a pretty, young woman, boss,” Booker remarked with a half grin.

“I know,” Andy answered simple.

“She seems nice.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Is it then wise to make her any hopes?” Booker accused and Andy stopped walking. She looked back to you and shook her head. “It's too soon to assume that.”

“I don't think she was uncomfortable when you kissed her,” he interjected. Andy snorted and went to the car she parked down the street.

“I didn't kiss her,” she gainsaid.

Andy groaned annoyed. “I don't know if I tell her. I know her for five weeks. It's not like… well, I will see.”

“But it was close. Next time it will be her mouth,” Booker said shrugging. “I only recommend you to be careful. She's mortal. She will age. Does she know you don't?”

Booker glanced at Andy when she started the engine of the car and pulled out into traffic. She didn't want to think about the possibilities she could have with you, how it felt to be loved by someone she loved back. You were the first human that catched her interest in her entire life. She spent time with you, because she liked you, but she didn't know it was worth it to risk everything because she could fall im love with you.

“How got you here?” Andy asked to switch the topic. She needed to be focused and concentrated for the mission. There wasn't any other reason she knew about why Booker would come to get her.

“Nicky and Joe dropped me off. Their already on the way. We will meet them at a dinner,” he explained and Andy nodded.

“Good.” The drive was silent and Andy tried hard to suppress the memory of the shimmer in your eyes after she kissed your cheek.

The job went off without a hitch and Andy was statisfied with the precise and flawless teamwork. She only suffered a few injuries from gun shots and a knife, but she didn't die this time and everything was already healed.

“Good job,” she told her family members and they drove back to the flat they stayed in a small town in the north Texas.

Andy's thoughts wandered to you and she asked herself if you would want a life like that. Always on the run, without knowing what will come tomorrow. And could she on the opposite settle down with you. Spending fifty or sixty years or a little more with you before the nature would take back the life it gave you.

Andy took a deep breath. She had to make a choice: destroying the tender bonding between you or letting her feelings grow for you and risking that it could break her heart.

***

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